《女子丹经汇编》Vol. 3

Fluid substances: The liquid matter in the body, when affected by external heat, turns into sweat and is expelled through the pores. The fluid in the eyes, when one is excessively sad at heart, turns into tears and flows from the tear glands.

In the kidneys it becomes essence; in the nose it becomes nasal discharge: The fluid in the external kidneys (the reproductive organs)—when lust arises in the mind—turns into seminal essence and is discharged through the urethra. The fluid on the nasal mucosa, when stimulated by cold wind from outside, turns into nasal mucus and flows from the nostrils.

Flowing vertically and horizontally, moistening the whole body, yet in the end not departing from divine water: “Vertical” means up and down within the person; “horizontal” means front, back, left, and right. “Circulation” means ceaseless movement throughout the body; “moistening the whole body” means reaching every place and nourishing it everywhere. These transformations and effects, when traced to their root, never stray from divine water (in internal cultivation, a fundamental “water” nature, related to sweat, tears, nasal discharge, saliva, essence, blood, and the rest).

Divine water is hard to put into words, and those who recognize it are few; all that sustains life comes from true Qi: The principle of divine water is extremely subtle and cannot fully be expressed in language. Though many are literate, few truly know divine water. Know that sweat, tears, nasal discharge, saliva, essence, blood, and the like all arise from divine water; divine water in turn arises from true Qi (the fundamental Qi that sustains life and practice). Without true Qi, divine water dries up; once divine water is exhausted, the eyes cannot see, the ears cannot hear, the nose cannot smell, the tongue cannot taste, the reproductive organs cannot beget, the limbs and joints cannot move—and one is not far from death.

Note: Among the difficulties students of the Way encounter when reading elixir scriptures, one of the most common is that a single term may be used across different methods yet carry different meanings. Take the two characters Shenshui (spirit water): in this text they are explained in one way; in another elixir scripture the same term may appear but must not be read the same way.

Zhang Ziyang’s postface to Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality) states: “The crux of the golden elixir lies in Shenshui and Huachi (spirit water and the flower pool).” In the preface to Zhang Ziyang’s Quandan sibai zi (Four Hundred Words on the Complete Elixir) he also writes: “When lead meets mercury, it is called Huachi; when mercury enters lead, it is called Shenshui.” This is Shenshui in the renyuan dafa (Human-Origin Elixir Method).

He also says in the preface to Zhang Ziyang’s Jinyao miju (Secret of the Golden Medicine): “Jinshui (gold-water) is the mysterious water that has obtained the qi of metal; it is also called Shenshui. The secret of refining the elixir is simply to draw Shenshui into Huachi—then all is complete.” In Xu Zhenjun’s Shihan ji, the Shengshi zhixuan pian (Holy Stone Points to the Mystery) says: “Lead and cinnabar are kneaded into a lump like earth; the six-one solid mixture protects and guards… draw Shenshui into Huachi and all is complete.” (The source text repeats a sentence here.) The same Shengshi zhixuan pian also says: “Lead and cinnabar are kneaded into a lump like earth; the six-one solid mixture protects and cherishes. Fire refines them for a day and a night; when the fire dies and smoke clears, the earth turns to ash. The sublimated lead is poured into the ash pool; when fire rises, the lead melts into Shenshui.” This is Shenshui in the tianyuan dafa (Heaven-Origin Elixir Method).

Mingjing xia (Bright Mirror Casket) says: “If one knows true mercury, divine fire lies within yellow gold; if one knows true lead, Shenshui lies within white gold.” Bai Ziqing’s Diyuan zhenjue (True Formula of the Earth Origin) says: “Huachi and Shenshui—Shenshui is true gold. It flashes forth from the pre-heaven, releasing dry metal.” This is Shenshui in the diyuan dafa (Earth-Origin Elixir Method).

Lingyangzi also writes in Dongtian Micdian (Secret Canon of the Cave Heaven): “The two qi of yin and yang and the substance of lead and mercury combine to form shenshui (divine water); when one works with shenshui, lead is still not left behind. Who can recognize the shenshui in the elixir furnace? The shenshui in the pool is in truth the body of true gold. In the pre-heaven realm it flashes and shines, thereby releasing the qi of Qian metal.” The shenshui spoken of here belongs to diyuan danfa (an elixir approach grounded in earth qi, external medicinals, and the like).

The same book also says: “Yin-yang, lead, and mercury are shenshui; in application one cannot do without lead; who can know the shenshui of the elixir furnace? That is the golden essence of the moon’s soul.” In his self-commentary to Xiuxian Ge (Song of Immortal Cultivation), Wu Chongxu writes: “Secret advance means secretly advancing shenshui and divine fire—work at the layer of cooking and refining; open advance means openly advancing shenshui and divine fire—work at the layer of transcendence and release.” Zhu Chibo’s Jinhuo Deng (Lamp of Gold and Fire) states: “In the stage of raw lead there are only ren water and gui water; only after refining white gold does shenshui appear within it.” This kind of shenshui refers to shenshui in huangbai shu (external elixir and gold-transmutation arts).

In the elixir scriptures quoted above, the term “shenshui” does not mean the same thing in each case; compared with “shenshui” in Lingyuan Dadao Ge (Song of the Spiritual Source Great Dao), the difference is very great and the usages must not be confused.

Langranzi wrote a poem that says: between the jiaji (spine) the river chariot pierces the crown gate; in true cultivation this shortcut is held supreme; from the huachi (Jade Pool) shenshui (spirit water) is swallowed again and again, and the yuanjun (primordial lord) of the purple mansion rushes straight upward; keep making qi rush through the joints, and naturally jing fills and gushén (valley spirit) is preserved; once you gain the path of long life, you must be grateful to the one who first pointed the way. In this poem, “shenshui” refers specifically to saliva in the mouth—it is shenshui in the narrow sense. The shenshui in Lingyuan Dadaoge (Song of the Spiritual Source and Great Dao) includes every coarse and fine fluid in the body—it is shenshui in the broad sense. The names are close, but what they point to is not quite the same. If a student knows only one meaning and not the other, fixes on the first reading, and whenever the same term appears assumes the method is the same, that misleads others and oneself alike.

The tianyuan (heaven-origin) elixir method stresses ingestion and does not emphasize transmutation. The diyuan (earth-origin) method can both transmute and be further refined into something fit to ingest, thus linking to the human-origin path.

As for the main theme of the Song of the Spiritual Source of the Great Dao, it is about cultivating the Dao—not refining elixirs, and not Chan meditation or cessation-and-contemplation practice. Each of these has its own role; students should distinguish them clearly and not gloss them over. Among the various alchemical scriptures and Daoist books in circulation, the common fault is vagueness and confused reasoning, which often puts readers off. I am well aware of these weaknesses, so I emphasize analysis and wish to apply a scientific spirit to the study of immortality cultivation, to guide later companions on the path. For this reason the tone of my humble writings often refuses to echo earlier authorities, sometimes out of necessity; I hope readers will understand.

Furthermore, the closing couplet of the Yangshan Banyue Kan (Fortnightly Journal for Spreading Goodness), issue 41, page 6, in the poem Yuhua Palace Attendant Immortal’s Descent Verse, reads: “To cherish past affinity and open later awakening; / To keep the true fluid early and ferry decline and decay.” Here “true fluid” (zhenye) matches exactly the sense of “divine water” (shenshui) in the Song of the Spiritual Source of the Great Dao. Only by retaining the true fluid can one ferry decline and decay—that is, only by retaining the divine water can one sustain life. This line of teaching stands like an iron verdict and is hard to overturn. In her day, Realized Woman Cao Wenyi spared no effort in making the supreme cultivation method public; you at least have affinity—though born eight hundred years later, to read her song is as if hearing her voice and seeing her person. I therefore urge you all to practice it earnestly and not waste your years; otherwise, in rebirth you may not again meet such an opportunity.

“Danzhi” (Simply Know) and Cherishing Time

The two characters danzhi (“simply know”) mean: just devote yourself to doing what must be diligently practiced below; do not bother with other matters. If you waste your days, after rebirth you may not again meet an opportunity for study and practice like the one you have today.

Simply Know Tranquility and Plainness, Free of Thought and Worry; Fasting and Purification, Settling the Mind, Restraining Speech

Danzhi still means: act only according to the methods described below, and set everything else aside.

Tian is inner quiet. Dan is taking lightly the empty fame and fleeting gain of the world. Si is thoughts and ideas. Lü is worry and entanglement. Zhaijie (fasting and purification) was how people in antiquity prepared before offering to Heaven, Earth, and spirits—bathing, changing clothes, abstaining from alcohol, meat, and amusements, so body and mind were clean. Ningxin is keeping the mind from running off or indulging in idle imaginings. Jie yanyu is not speaking rashly and saying less that is idle.

Single Flavor of Ghee and Sweet-Dew Nectar; Hunger and Thirst Fade, and True Simplicity Appears

In metaphor, tihu (ghee) often stands for the finest product of milk after four stages: the first turning yields lao (curd), the second sheng su (fresh butter), the third shu su (clarified butter), and the fourth tihu, the cream of the cream. Ganlu jiang (sweet-dew nectar) is likened to ganlu jiao (sweet-dew plantain)—dew gathers in the flower bud, tastes sweet, and stands for the essence of the plantain.

Yiwei (single flavor) means that when the work above is pure and still, the responses within the body are likewise sweet and cool, with nothing else mixed in.

Ordinarily when hungry one thinks of food, when thirsty one thinks of drink, which shows the body still lacks something and needs nourishment to go on. When inwardly nothing is lacking, hunger and thirst naturally cease; one can enter great samadhi (deep stillness), and then see one’s original face—one’s inherent reality, the nature of true simplicity.

Any silk that has never been dyed is called su—plain, unadorned simplicity. A person’s original “true face” ought to be clear, flawless, and unstained; for that reason it is called true simplicity (zhen su).

When Neidan (internal alchemy) reaches fulfillment, one will naturally be free and at ease; yet in the first steps of practice, in those earliest days, refining (lian) and cooking (peng)—the two kinds of fire—truly demand diligence and hardship.

In intense fire (wuhuo), the work is called refining: rouse your spirit, clear away stray thoughts, sit with body straight and settled, and let mind and breath stay close together. In gentle fire (wenhuo), the work is called cooking: relax the whole body, hold the light within (hanguang neishou), and let the breath be fine as if there, quiet as if not there.

Although the beginning requires patience through difficulty, this is not the sort of “busyness” that wears out mind and body or keeps hands and feet in constant motion. Laozi’s Daodejing offers a line that says “use it without forcing diligence” (yong zhi bu qin)—speaking both of diligence and of not being diligent, which seems contradictory. Not forcing diligence means not stirring restlessly, not clinging, not pulling up seedlings to help them grow. Diligence means not wasting the days, not slacking off, not one burst of effort followed by ten days of neglect. Ease at ease (xianxian) is precisely not that strained kind of “diligence.” Only when one can be ease at ease can primordial Qi (yuanqi) be preserved; only when primordial Qi is preserved can primordial spirit (yuanshen) be nourished.

Alas, it is often impossible to make the heart truly idle and at rest; release (zong) and gathering in (qin)—letting go and reining in—are entirely up to oneself.

The human heart in this world always wants to rest yet cannot rest. Though partly this comes from circumstances that will not allow a complete letting go, half of it is also habit formed through kalpas of experience—hard to change all at once. Those who practice cultivation are often dragged down by this kind of thought. At this stage, one either goes along with it and indulges, or finds a way to gather the mind back in; it all depends on each person’s own mastery.

Perfected Cao (Celestial Worthy Cao) described in his own words how much hardship he endured while practicing: he wore garments of coarse grass and ate “wood food” (meaning a rough diet of tree bark and wild plants), and his surroundings were lonely, quiet, and still.

In his heart he clearly knew the Great Dao was good, yet he could not live it out. What kept him from living it out was three kinds of drag: first, empty fame; second, worldly duties and obligations (suwu, responsibilities); third, the body (food, clothing, shelter, and daily routine). The drag of empty fame is like “the capable bear more work”; the drag of duties is like being bound by authority, righteousness, and obligation; the drag of the body is simply being tied to food, clothing, housing, and travel.

Those who cultivate the Dao fear above all that they cannot obtain leisure. When leisure finally comes, they are pulled again by all sorts of “active” side-door minor methods. If body and mind have already entered a realm of quiet ease, rather than trying this and that among those side paths, it is more fitting to let everything go and devote oneself solely to “Great Stability” (da ding)—settling calmly into deep absorption, unmoved as a mountain. (In the phrase “zheng si,” “zheng” and “zen” share the same sense: “how could it compare to.”)

Note: In Zhang Ziyang’s Wuzhen pian, the character zheng appears in several places—for example in regulated verse 2, “Great medicine is not sought—zheng can one meet it?”; verse 13, “Zheng like planting lotus in fire”; quatrain 1, “Zheng can one obtain the golden elixir yet not understand birth?”; quatrain 8, “Zheng like true lead matching the sage mechanism”; quatrain 40, “Zheng can one grasp the golden crow and seize the hare?”; quatrain 64, “Teaching people—zheng can they see conduct and hiding?” In all these lines zheng should be read as zen (“how,” “how could”). In Song-dynasty prose some common characters differ from modern usage; this note is offered to help readers of Daoist books.

Though form and spirit are said to be hard to complete together, one may finish life-work only after finishing nature-work

The crux of the Great Dao lies in both “fully completing spirit” and “fully completing form.” “Fully completing spirit” is what is usually called xinggong (nature cultivation—practice centered on regulating mind and clarifying nature). “Fully completing form” is what is usually called minggong (life cultivation—practice centered on essence, qi, and the physical body). For those on the path, the best course is to complete both form and spirit—that is the highest strategy. If that cannot be done at once, one may first practice xinggong to fully complete spirit; when the right opportunity arrives, one may then practice minggong to fully complete form—that too is acceptable. What follows describes the method of finishing nature first and fully completing spirit.

Do not run after fame or chase profit; cut off human entanglements and all affairs cease

If you do not contend with others for name and gain, and you sever social obligations and polite busywork, you can enter a state of quiet leisure with nothing to do.

Bold resolve lies in the person—where is the stagnation? As for restraint, upon myself—whom else would I have control me?

Renouncing fame and profit and refusing social engagements looks very hard, but success depends on the person; with a truly juelie (fierce, decisive) mind, there may be no obstacle that cannot be passed. As for “zhiyu” (restraint, keeping in check)—on one’s own person, whom else could one call to govern? (The meaning is to govern the mind by oneself, not by relying on externals.)

Two layers of meaning are involved. On the surface it looks hard: not craving fame and profit, cutting back on social obligations. The real hinge is the heart—if you truly steel yourself, it may not be impossible; for my part, if I mean to cultivate, who can hold me back? “Zhuzhi” (staying stuck) means blockage and entanglement; “zhiyu” (being controlled) means others managing or steering your life.

However loud your name or how fast you write, none of it truly helps cultivation. “Xiantian” (shaking heaven) paints fame raised to a startling height; “yima” (leaning on the horse) paints prose finished in a flash—on the Way, neither counts for much.

Fine dress and rich food need not occupy the mind. Gold heaped and jade piled—if you never cultivate the Dao, when old age, sickness, and death come, money cannot save you.

Skill in craft, polished essays, verse and rhapsody—the more you excel, the more they often choke the path of practice.

Literati rarely attain the Great Dao. They are like thin mist and light smoke drifting beside fallen flowers and willow fluff—roots unsettled, hollow and without substance.

They wander between heaven and earth yet never become rain and dew: mist and smoke stay mist and smoke and cannot turn into rain and dew. “Piaomiao” (ethereal drift) is floating without root; “fuyou” (floating free) is empty and unreal. Rain and dew can nourish the ten thousand things; mist and smoke do people no good.

Between name and person, which is closer in the end? Half a lifetime often slips away empty in delay and habit.

Who in the world does not love reputation, who does not cherish the body? If you compare closely, nothing is closer to the body than the body itself. Yet most people spend half a lifetime in just this way of “following the old path”—yin xun means clinging to inherited habits of eating, drinking, sex, birth, aging, sickness, and death, refusing to change and not daring to go against the creative order of nature; that is what yin xun means.

In recent practice, everything depends on work with shen and qi; after midlife this is especially so. As the body declines, only when shen and qi can settle within the body does the effort not go to waste. If shen and qi are unsettled, further practice is empty expenditure.

A good foundation site, golden hall and jade chamber are metaphors for the human body; the master is the yuanshen (original spirit). The body is like a house; yuanshen is like the master. If the master always wanders outside and will not return to the inner chamber, it is like a fine house with no one living in it, no one sweeping or repairing it—it gradually falls into ruin.

So the advice is to urge the master to dwell there long—not in busyness and turmoil, but at rest in emptiness and leisure; what looks “useless” on the surface is precisely what cultivation relies upon.

First section

Employ every suitable means to call the “master of the house” back and keep him dwelling at home for the long term, so the heart is not a restless “monkey” and “horse” always straining outward. Settle him in an environment of emptiness, stillness, and freedom from disturbance, until the mind has nothing to cling to and nothing to busy itself with; only then can entrenched habits gradually be transformed.

(In inner alchemy [Neidan], the “master” often stands for the Yuanshen [original spirit] or the true self, and the “home” for the empty, still place within the body—such as the Dantian [energy center]. The point is to gather the mind inward and guard the center, and not to be carried away by circumstances.)

Second section (wondrous being within non-being; rigid grasping hard to release; nurturing the “infant” depends on the “mother”)

Our Yuanshen [original spirit], when utterly still and unmoving, cannot be called “existent”; when it responds and penetrates and its function appears, it cannot be called “non-existent” either—only “wondrous being within non-being”: real, effective function arising within emptiness.

“Rigid grasping, hard to release” means that if you deaden your grip on a single thought or a single method, you only bind yourself tighter and fail to enter the Dao.

“Nurturing the infant must rely on the mother”: in practice the “infant” is a metaphor for the inner elixir [Neidan] or the “sacred fetus” formed from true breath; the “mother” is a metaphor for pre-heaven Qi [vital energy] or the Yuanshen. You must warm and nourish it as an infant relies on its mother—holding to this root and not abandoning the foundation to chase what is secondary.

Many truths in the world cannot be made clear with words alone, nor grasped by guesswork in the mind alone—such things are called “subtle” (miao). So it is with “subtle existence” (miaoyou): it does not lean toward “there is nothing at all,” nor toward “there is something solid you can hold,” which is why it is so hard to fix and keep. “Hard to hold fast” means you always feel you cannot grip it or settle it. Given that, where do you actually begin practice?

You must understand: in the world, raising a child depends chiefly on the mother’s strength. If we compare the yuanshen (the root of one’s inborn clarity and true nature) to an infant, we must ask: what is the “mother” of yuanshen?

Laozi’s Daodejing chapter 1 says: “The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; the named is the mother of the ten thousand things.” Chapter 20 says: “I alone am different from others, and value seeking nourishment from the Mother.” Chapter 25 says: “There is something confusedly complete, born before Heaven and Earth—silent and void, standing alone and unchanging, revolving without ceasing—it can be the mother of the world. I do not know its name; I style it Dao.” From this we can conclude: the Mother is Dao. To nourish yuanshen, you must rely on the power of Dao.

What is Dao? Dao is Yin-Yang; Yin-Yang is xing and ming (nature and life); xing and ming are Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy). At the start of practice, it is using Shen to command Qi, using Qi to nourish Shen—employing spirit to lead and gather qi, and employing qi to warm and sustain spirit. When Shen and Qi unite in one place, that is cultivating the Dao.

(In practice you also) fold away sharp speech and debate, set aside cleverness and cunning, gather spirit inward, and outwardly prefer to appear dull and plain—that is the attitude of holding back eloquence, dismissing cleverness, reining in spirit, and acting foolish and blunt: not showing off wit, but guarding the middle and harmony.

When spirit issues through the ears and eyes, it is called “cleverness”; when it issues through speech and writing, it is called “sharp eloquence.” “Seal” (jian) means to close off; “store” (cang) means to put away; “set aside” (chu) means to discard. To roll up and gather in is the same idea. The gist of these two lines is to advise one to keep spirit gathered within the body and not to vent it outward; one should emulate what Laozi says in the Daodejing: “Great eloquence seems tongue-tied; great skill seems clumsy”—that is the first practical method at the threshold of cultivating the Dao.

One must be resolute and single-minded, let oneself walk straight along the right path, and in the end one can reach the goal; only then will one see that the Great Dao does not fail those who trust it. What to fear is that people themselves refuse this great path and prefer crooked byways—not only is this life wasted, but the next life brings every sort of karmic retribution. Why choose that?

Front Section of the Nüdan Shiji (Anthology of Female Alchemy Poetry)

Compiler: Jiyi Zi Fu Jinquan of Jinxi, who gathered and edited the collection

Immortal Lady Wu Cailuan

Three poems, with preface

Cailuan was the daughter of Wu Meng. Wu Meng served the state of Wu as magistrate of Xi’an. The perfected man Ding Yi transmitted the Daoist arts to him; Wu Meng in turn passed them to Xu Xun of Nanchang. Xu Xun held office as magistrate of Jingyang. Hearing that the Lady Mother Chen of Danyang (a title often used in female alchemy for an accomplished female master) possessed the Dao, they went together to visit her. The Lady Mother Chen transmitted the essential points of the Dao to Xu Xun; Xu Xun asked her to teach Wu Meng as well, but she did not agree and only ordered Xu Xun to pass the teaching on to Wu Meng. Cailuan took as her master Ding Yi’s daughter Xiuying; when her cultivation was complete she ascended together with her father (rising to immortality and flying upward).

The heart is like ice in a whole jade pot—no speck of dust may stain it; even if the pot gathers dust, one does not mind at all, with a single mind climbing straight to the highest tier of the Jade Terrace.

Favor and disgrace have no fixed measure—why struggle for them? Floating clouds cannot block the moon’s light. However others may label you, ox or horse, meet it with ease; nor will you allow a thread of stray thought into the heart.

The body dwells in the city, yet the nature is as if living in the mountains; in the puppet-theater of the human world, treat affairs as ordinary. A void can hold a mustard seed; the words of the great thousand worlds may all be deleted—do not cling to names and forms.

Immortal Lady Fan Yunqiao (Six Poems with Preface)

Fan Yunqiao was the wife of Liu Gang. Both possessed Daoist arts: they could issue summons to gods and ghosts, forbid transformations, and secretly cultivated secret verification—outsiders did not know. When she governed, she honored purity and simplicity; the people benefited, harvests were abundant, and near and far admired her.

In daily life she often competed in arts with Liu Gang: Liu Gang worked a spell to burn the guesthouse pestle—fire rose from the east; the Lady spread rain from the west to suppress it. In the courtyard were two peach trees—Liu Gang’s spell made one fall outside the fence; the Lady’s spell made hers fall into a chest. Liu Gang spat on a plate and turned the saliva into a fish; the Lady spat and turned hers into an otter that ate the fish.

One day, entering Siming Mountain with Liu Gang, they met a tiger on the road. Liu Gang restrained it and the tiger lay prostrate and howled; the Lady glanced at it with contempt and the tiger dared not raise its head—they captured it and tied it beside the bed.

On the day they were to ascend, beside the county hall stood a great honeylocust tree. Liu Gang flew up from the treetop; the Lady sat level on the bed and rose slowly like a cloud—they ascended together. Later they appeared again in a boat at Blue Bridge, summoned Pei Hang into the Way, and gave him her younger sister Yun Ying in marriage—they together achieved the true fruition.

Heaven’s image is firm, Earth’s virtue soft—gongfu must first be settled in seeking ding (stillness); clarify one dipper of water from the Jasper Pool—why must the bright moon rely on the “seven treasures” to be cultivated?

(Using Heaven-Earth firmness and softness as metaphor: cultivation first works within ding; when the heart-pool is clear as Jasper Pool water, inherent brightness need not be patched together with external “seven treasures.”)

At the opening, three pieces (mnemonic verses)

The dragon and tiger together with the wild horse are the hardest to gate and lock; if you let them run free without restraint, you only add karmic hindrance. The true method of utmost stillness and suchness—once you seize it—turns into a single heaven-wind (meaning spirit and qi turning freely on their own).

Nourishing nature must begin with quieting the mind; there is no need to seek clever tricks outside. Only when the iron ox (a metaphor for the original spirit) is led and turns with you does the depth and breadth of wisdom-karma show.

There is no need to bow and pray for long life; when the root-nature is thoroughly clear, that is enough. Shatter attachment to emptiness and true ease appears; names like the wish-fulfilling jewel and śarīra are all empty labels.

One golden house holds two (metaphor for yin-yang or body and mind); if bearing and intent do not match, they cannot unite. If you obtain “a sun born within the moon” (metaphor for true yang in the moon-phase, the firing process), like the black dragon spitting out the night-luminous pearl (metaphor for inner elixir accomplished)—

Six poems on Immortal Lady Cui Shaoxuan · Preface

Cui Shaoxuan was the daughter of Cui Gong, prefect of Fenzhou in late Tang. From birth she was graceful; as a child she loved the Way, and after coming of age she married Lu Chui. After ten years of arduous cultivation she attained the Way at twenty-four. When Chui served in Min, passing Jianxi and Wuyi Mountain, he saw the Purple Empyrean Sovereign Lady and the Fusang Lady in the clouds. They asked Chui: “Has the Moon Splendor Lord arrived?” Startled, he asked why; they answered: “I was once attendant at the left hand of the Jade Emperor, titled Moon Splendor Lord; because of past karma I was demoted to become your wife.” Later, when he left office and returned home, she left a farewell letter in Luoyang. In it she wrote:

“Gaining the one yuan (the root single qi), not received from outside heaven. The True of the Grand Old, the supreme immortal. Light holds shadow hidden, form in the natural. True peace not sought from without—yet humans long linger. Pure and beautiful is this truth, nature both firm and yielding. In cinnabar sky and jade heaven, peer of the highest sages. After a hundred years, only the old mound remains empty.”

When the letter was finished, she transformed (passed away seated).

Plain-language gloss on the quoted preface text

Gaining the one yuan (root single qi) is not something taken from nowhere outside. The True of the Grand Old, the supreme immortal—light and shadow both contained, hidden and not displayed, form appearing in the natural. True peace is not sought in external things, yet people long cling to the world; that truth is pure and beautiful, its nature both soft and firm. Equal to the highest sages in cinnabar sky and jade heaven. After a hundred years, only the old tomb-mound is left, while the immortal truth has already departed.

Continuation of the Scripture (Fundraising Edition)

“When on the third day the shadow appears naturally”—at a certain stage of practice, visions manifest on their own without forcing; true peace lies not in seeking outside, but in long abiding in the Dao. “Pure and beautiful is her truth, her nature both firm and yielding”—the woman inherently possesses a true body that balances firmness and softness. “Crimson sky and jade heaven, kin to the sages above”—of the same kind as the holy ones of the upper realm. After a hundred years, only the old mound remains. When the writing was finished, that person ascended in feather transformation.

Poem One

On the third day the shadow appears, like Chang’e facing the sun—sunlight clear and bright. To attain a night when yin and yang interweave like jade, one must first probe the message and capture the golden wave (referring to monthly signs / yin essence as a kind of firing process; women’s elixir methods often borrow lunar imagery).

Poem Two

When the nature-school is clear, the life-foundation becomes solid; the nine-turn river chariot and the nine cauldrons’ firing are complete. When the golden tiger and jade dragon meet and the three flowers gather at the crown, it is as if one holds up a little immortal—an image of inner accomplishment.

Poem Three

When the heart is still as water, one naturally rests at ease; ever silent, ever alert—good for advancing in practice. Nourish until “the crow is plump and the rabbit lean” (the tortoise-and-crow and jade rabbit in elixir lore stand for Kan-Li or essence and qi), and the spirit fungus will flourish on the jade peak—symbolizing vitality in the dantian or at the crown.

Poem Four

Know that beneath the earth there is also heaven: to seek oneself wholeheartedly is to seek immortality. Once one penetrates the essentials of yin and yang, the key is to put “the one breath of ceaseless generation” first.

Poem Five

How long do green temples and rosy cheeks last? In a moment, crane-white hair tangles like silk. Draw the curtain and glimpse plum blossoms opening—do not let this span of spring light slip by late; while the body is strong and qi full, do not miss the season for practice.

Poem Six (Similar in intent to the above)

Do not seek outer protectors or entangle yourself in external Chan; let the world’s changes pass before your eyes. The elixir path must go straight upward; the mysterious pearl (inner elixir / true nature) rests right upon my breast.

Four Poems by Tang Guang Zhen (Tang Guangzhen), with Preface

Tang Guangzhen was from Yanzhou and served her mother with utmost filial piety. After marriage she suffered a blood disorder; in a dream a Daoist gave her medicine and she recovered. From then on she loved the Dao and devoutly honored He Xiangu (the female immortal). One day she received in person the teaching of primal subtlety. In the Chunxi era of Song, three immortals led her to the seashore; she crossed the sea riding a giant toad and traveled famous mountains with them. The immortals asked: “Do you wish to transcend the mundane and enter sagehood? To remain in form and dwell in the world? Or to discard the bones and become an immortal?” She replied: “My mother is alive; I wish to serve her until the end.” They then gave her one elixir pill to swallow, and she could thereafter abstain from grain (bigu). Later she was summoned to the Degong Palace and enfeoffed as “Perfect Person of Silent Concentration and Spirit Gathering.”

Poem One

The subtle mechanism is before your face—yet people wear themselves out searching; only when you fix your gaze do you know how deep the ultimate principle runs. The learning of nature can hardly be fully pointed to with words; when karmic ties are settled, then the true heart appears.

Poem Two

The heart-nature was always easiest to clarify—but follow the Perfect Person of the peak (the preface ending seems damaged; “but follow…” is likely encouragement to follow the teacher and the Dao).

(In the preface, “Tang Guang… do not let it be late” may be a carved-text error, in the same spirit as “do not let the spring light slip by late” above.)

Five Poems with Preface (Xuanjing Sanren Zhou Yuanjun)

First poem

To grasp that hidden principle face to face often costs long searching; only when the gaze is truly aligned and the heart’s aperture opens does one see how deep the inner truth runs. The work of mind and nature (xing) is hard to pin down in words alone; when karmic ties are cleared and practice matures, the “true heart” shows itself of its own accord.

Second poem

Mind-nature was never far away; the hard part is not being dragged about by circumstances. When evening clouds on the peak break clear, one can abide in every direction—east, west, south, north—as if roaming Penglai and the blue seas: with the mind settled, cultivation is possible everywhere, not tied to a single place.

Third poem

If one does not know nature (xing) and does not know life (ming), it is as though heaven and earth were cut into two roads, each walked alone. On the day yin and yang merge and the elixir forms, spirit and intent blend; like one drunk inside the gourd yet needing no hand to hold him up—a image of inner refinement completing itself without leaning on outside force.

Fourth poem

Without anger, without elation, qi stays even and gently buoyant; meeting events as they come, like wind moving clouds. The tiger lies low and the dragon is tame (a figure for passion and desire, or the inner “lead and mercury,” brought to heel); the heart is still on its own. Jade sky, bright moon, whiteness drifting everywhere—such is the clear, empty, luminous state.

Fifth poem (preface title)

The series is titled “Five Poems, with Preface”; the author is given as Xuanjing Sanren Zhou Yuanjun—the five poems above together with the preface belong to the Zhou Yuanjun line of oral formulas in the women’s neidan (internal alchemy) anthology.

Xuanjing Sanren was born with the surname Zhou. She was the mother of Wang Chuyi, a Quanzhen adept of Dongmu in Ninghai (in the region of present-day Yantai, Shandong).

Wang Chuyi was born in the second year of Huangtong under Emperor Xizong of Jin. While Zhou was pregnant, she dreamed one night that red clouds wrapped around her body; waking in alarm, she knew she had conceived. As a boy, Chuyi was unusually bright. Once, while wandering in the hills, he met an old man seated on a great rock who told him that in time he would win renown at court and become master of a lineage of Daoism. The old man stroked his head and went away. Chuyi later composed a verse in his own praise: What use scrambling for name and profit? Better to refine the heart early; cultivation rests with oneself, one’s future rests with oneself—do not drift with the crowd.

In the eighth year of Dading (1168), Chuyi met Patriarch Wang Chongyang of Chongyang at Quanzhen Hermitage, entered his gate as a disciple, and brought his mother to practice alongside him—mother and son both received the Great Dao. The family was poor and had little to spare, yet they held to arduous cultivation. When Chuyi was later summoned to the capital, among the memorials he submitted was a line to this effect: A mirror, when clear, can still reflect things—how much more the mirror of Heaven and Earth, from which nothing hidden can escape? What is called the mirror of Heaven and Earth is the wondrous quality of one’s own numinous clarity (lingming). The emperor praised this highly. The next year, on his mother’s ninetieth birthday, Chuyi memorialized the throne asking to return for a single day to attend and nourish her. His mother said to Chuyi: My time to return has come—she showed him the attitude of not grasping at life and not fearing death, and passed away. After the burial, Chuyi told his disciples: The immortals invite me—I am going. Zhou had already bathed, burned incense, and ascended in transformation (zuohua, seated departure from the body).

The Kun formula—the key for women and internal cultivation—must be sought from within stillness. Stillness here is not dead emptiness; a thread of subtle living stir (dongji) is still preserved. If one only sits in vacancy and imagines barren silence, what is called “tiger runs off and dragon flies” (essence and qi fail to unite and form the elixir)—how then can the elixir (Neidan, inner elixir) be accomplished?

The single point of the Spirit Platform (Lingtai, the heart-mind, the lodging of shen)—set it steady as bedrock; let glory and decay, success and failure shift in every way outside. Yang radiance (the light of pre-heaven yang) is from the first like a Mani jewel (a pearl of luminous perfection); only by storing and nurturing it here can one condense the Great Elixir (the full fruit of inner refinement).

I. Three Sections of Verses

First section

The heart should be as clear as Caoxi (the stream associated with the Sixth Patriarch Huineng’s transmission, standing for an illumined mind-ground) in autumn; apply effort at the zi and wu hours (classic times for internal practice). When the “fish and dragon” (stirring of qi channels) in the body has settled and the waves are still, it is like the long sky holding only the moon’s image—meaning Shen (spirit) and qi united and wandering thoughts stilled.

Second section

Light smoke and thin mist veil even “emptiness,” so luminous awareness has nowhere to rest. Aversion, attachment, glory and decay—all such thoughts are like sharp blades. If, amid injury and loss, you again seek the “child” (true yang, the “infant”), it is like “seeking the child while wounding the child”—the more you seek, the more you lose.

Third section

Cultivation of xing (nature) and ming (life) must first be investigated at the yueku (for women, the lower Dantian and womb region). Seizing the dragon and binding the tiger cannot be put off. If true yang leaks away in the rising-yang phase, how can you guard it like holding “shumi” (one grain of elixir, innate primordial qi)?

II. Latter Part of the Female Elixir Poetry Collection (Account of Jishan Hall in Qian · White Lotus Immortal)

General theme

The places men and women observe in golden elixir work differ, but the logic of Yin-Yang is the same: both must refine to pure yang. The root is qingxin guayu (clear heart, few desires). For women, foundation-building must first zhan chi long—“cut the red dragon,” where the red dragon is yuexin (menstrual flow). Only when practice reaches the point that the monthly tide no longer comes, and both breasts shrink inward like a man’s retracted “turtle,” is the elixir foundation truly established.

Continued verses

From birth, nature is inherently still; seek achievement within stillness. Women often complete the elixir in stillness faster than men. Use steaming and moxibustion methods to repair the “broken boat” (a depleted body). Blood transforms into qi, the tidal sign ceases, and innate nature is recovered—then one may ascend Yingzhou (a metaphor for the realm of accomplishment).

Another poem

Women take blood as root; they must rely on xin (heart) and yi (intention)—heart as ruler, intention as minister—to lift blood upward and turn it into qi; then rely on breath (xi) working with yi to send qi downward back to the sea of blood. Thus coming and going, like the “black rabbit and white rabbit” (sun and moon, Yin-Yang) rising and falling within qian and kun, the Huang Po (intention as go-between) harmonizes, and only then can the shengtai (sacred embryo—the image of inner elixir completion) be formed.

III. Refining the Self and Building the Foundation (with original notes)

Verse

Refining the self must be worked at on wu and ji (central earth, the “intention earth”). Huang Po (intention) is the matchmaker joining Kan and Li (water and fire, Yin-Yang). If you ask where the ying’er (infant—true yang, inner elixir) forms, in the depths of the Dantian (the place of guarding the One below the navel) lies the true trace.

Plain prose

Refining the self and laying the foundation require effort on wu and ji; Huang Po is the go-between so Kan and Li interpenetrate. The infant is formed in the depths of the Dantian—the sign of inner elixir accomplishment.

Note: The above follows the annotations under the entry attributed to Jishan Hall in Qian and White Lotus Immortal, cross-read with the verses and notes. Where the first verse had editorial marks around “bind” in “seize the dragon and bind the tiger,” the usual reading qin long fu hu is followed. Technical terms are glossed in parentheses at first occurrence.

Modern Interpretation of Compilation of Female Internal Alchemy Scriptures

Women by nature tend toward stillness and are well suited to begin practice in quiet. With the same methods, they often progress more quickly than men. Cultivation centers on warming and nourishing with intention, letting that warmth steam through the whole body—like patching a boat before it leaks. Because women are naturally rich in blood, practice must turn blood into qi (vital energy). When menstruation stops, the “tidal signal” is said to be cut off. If one can return to the innate stillness of the prenatal state, one may hope to enter the path of immortals and buddhas, as if ascending to the Isles of the Immortals.

When feelings first stir and heavenly dew arrives—at menarche—it is like a ripe melon dropping from the stem. Everything depends on the warming nurture of “Earth Virtue,” so that the middle palace gives rise to the “Yellow Sprout” (in internal alchemy the five earths are the base; the sprout grows from earth, hence the name). Morning and evening without slackening, keep adding gentle warmth and do not let the work be broken. From sprout it gradually “flowers”—that is the root of long life.

Xiangyi Lingzhen Buddha

Within the body is the “White Sparrow Shrine,” a metaphor for the breasts: the method refines them from red to white, hence the name. Learn from Guanyin the Holy Mother, who once cultivated this method at White Sparrow Temple and in the end attained the Great Dao. When merit is full and the work complete, one may attend upon the Queen Mother of the West and go with the assembly to the feast of immortal peaches—meaning to urge all to cross to the other shore together, with a heart that universally saves.

Quanzhen Yihua Buddha

Women should lightly set aside the red dust of the world and hold the name “Amitabha Buddha” in mind. Do not part from the “Yellow Maid”—often sitting and lying in stillness together, warming and nourishing according to the secret instructions (“Yellow Maid” here means staying united with inner refinement and the Yellow Maid’s warming nurture). With long steady practice, the ordinary body falls away of itself and is exchanged for an immortal frame.

Plain-Language Interpretation of The Collected Women's Inner Alchemy Scripture

First Section

A woman should gradually loosen her attachment to the red dust of the mundane world. In her heart she should constantly recite “Amitabha Buddha”—this is the method of “tying the mind,” also called constantly reciting the four-character scripture. She should not part from “Huanggu” (the inner-alchemy image of a companion standing for true intent); sitting and lying together—always guarding true intent, practice can be completed quickly; the ordinary body naturally sheds, and immortal bones replace it.

Second Section

A woman should gradually loosen attachment to the red dust; in her heart constantly recite “Amitabha Buddha” (constantly reciting the four-character scripture is the way to tie the mind). Not parting from Huanggu, sitting and lying together (always guarding true intent, practice can be completed quickly); the ordinary body sheds on its own, immortal bones are renewed. (With such benefits, how could one not learn?)

Wuji Zhenren (Immortal of the Non-Ultimate)

Before you die, first learn “death”—in the end you will not die. Whenever a thought of “birth” arises, cut it off with wisdom—in the end you will not be reborn. Neither dying nor being born is the marvel of the true person; with one verification of nirvana, great achievement is complete.

• Learning death before dying, in the end not dying: Though alive, one is unmoved by outer things like a dead person, and so attains non-death.
• Meeting birth, killing birth, never being born again: Whenever the mind clings to “birth,” slay it with the sword of wisdom, and so ultimately there is no rebirth.
• Neither death nor birth—the marvel of the true person; one verification of nirvana, great achievement complete: Body not dying, mind not being born—one can verify the highest fruit of nirvana; how great is that achievement!

Annotation respectfully added by True One Ancient Mother (above, right)

Compassionate Ancient Mother

Turn the light inward and look back—mind intent guards the space between the two breasts; refine spirit and fix attention on the area “before the Golden Lock” (the place women guard in practice). After about two and a half days, yellow qi turns white; move the cauldron and change the furnace, and refine into an immortal.

Note: Terms such as “Huanggu,” “Golden Lock,” and “move the cauldron and change the furnace” belong to inner alchemy and women’s inner alchemy vocabulary; the plain-language text keeps the original names with brief explanation so readers can compare with the original cultivation literature.

Plain-Language Interpretation of Collected Female Elixir Scriptures

Returning the Light (Between the Two Breasts)

Draw your awareness inward and fix it on the spot between the two breasts, while settling your shen (spirit, focused attention) in front of the “golden lock”—the area below the two kidneys. Then the qi within will naturally circulate like the “river chariot,” rising to the middle dantian (around the solar plexus) to repair the “broken body” depleted by menstruation and the like.

After Two and a Half Days, From Yellow to White

About two and a half days after menstruation ends, the “blood” within shifts from red to yellow. At that time, purify the mind and practice diligently: continue returning the light at the breasts and guarding shen below the kidneys. Before long it turns from yellow to white; the “red channel” ceases, and the bodily state becomes like that of an intact maiden who has not yet begun menstruation.

Moving the Cauldron and Changing the Furnace to Attain Immortality

Once the “red dragon” (menstruation, the red dragon) is cut off, the location and method of the alchemical “cauldron and furnace” differ from before. With the true oral transmission and practice by the method, one may complete the immortal path.

Spiritual True Great Transformation Buddha

Taking compassion as the root of the heart is what “po” means here—the female body capable of cultivation, the female way. Whether laywomen, Buddhist nuns, or Daoist nuns, all may cultivate; in every case compassion must be the foundation.

Everyone has a “bodhi tree”—you must know where it is and apply yourself there, persisting over time, and you will surely realize bodhi and ascend to Daluo (one of the highest heavens in Daoist cosmology).

Qingyun True Person

The medicine must be refined in fire; fire must manifest within the medicine.

Fire without medicine is like an empty pot boiling dry; medicine without fire will eventually scatter and vanish.

When fire and medicine are properly matched, once the golden elixir (jindan) is formed you may enter Langyuan (the immortal realm, the ideal paradise).

(This passage uses “fire and medicine” as an inner-alchemy metaphor: there must be “medicine” (jing, qi, and the like) and “fire” (intent, yang qi, and the like) working together—neither alone suffices—to form the elixir.)

Refining Medicine and Fire

“Medicine” is refined in “fire”—here medicine means Qi, fire means Shen: using Shen to govern Qi. Fire in turn manifests within the medicine—Shen grows clearer and brighter because of Qi. Fire alone without medicine is like an empty cauldron scorching dry; one must not fixate only on “fire.” Medicine alone without fire will eventually dissipate; one cannot do without “fire.” When medicine and fire are properly matched, the Golden Elixir coalesces and one enters Langyuan—the realm of immortality and attainment.

The Bright and Greatly Compassionate True Person

Quiet, secluded, chaste, and still—thus to nourish one’s nature; when the woman’s path is fully cultivated, virtue is by no means slight. Often attend to the breasts and the “sea of blood” (in female alchemy, key loci tied to blood-Qi and the Ren channel); gather the body inward and align with Taiyin (the greater yin). When Shen and Qi rely on each other, the logic of attainment unfolds of itself.

The Bright and Greatly Compassionate True Person (with commentary)

Quiet, secluded, chaste, and still to nourish nature; when the woman’s path is fully cultivated, virtue is not slight—the former line leans toward nurturing nature, the latter toward cultivating virtue: the work of cultivating both inside and out. The breasts and sea of blood must be kept in mind; this is the first-step practice. “Gather the form inward and unite with Taiyin” is the Taiyin form-gathering method, practiced until the breasts contract and appear like a man’s.

The Cloud-Rain and Glazed-Immortal

It is best to recite the six-character scripture: turn from front to back, and fix it in the heart. Within it is concealed the river-cart method (the technique of inner Qi circulating along the Ren, Du, and related pathways); without noticing, one refines true accomplishment.

In female cultivation, the simplest and most reliable method is reciting the Six-Syllable Scripture—the six-character name “Namo Amitabha.”

How to recite (from front to back, finally keeping the mind in place): At the area before the navel, say “Na”; at Yangguan (the region around the Mingmen, the “Life Gate” at the lower back), say “Mo”; at Yinyin (the lower dantian and kidney region), say “A”; at Niwan (inside the crown), say “Mi”; at the throat, say “Tuo”; and finally settle the character “Fo” in the heart. Reciting in this way both gathers the mind (so it does not scatter) and settles the Qi (so breath becomes even and steady).

This practice also implicitly follows the He Che (Pulley Cart) method—in internal refinement, Qi is moved up and down along the Ren and Du channels or through the dantian, as if a cart were carrying something. If you recite in this order at all times, you use the “cart” to send acquired Qi into the middle field (the middle dantian, the area below the heart). Over time this can replenish the innate (the root Qi).

The effect is to forge the true body (the foundation of forming the elixir and attaining the real) without your noticing it. The method is extremely easy: women may recite it, and men may recite it too; you must persist for a long time, and the results grow greater.

Lingquan Gumother (the Ruyi diagram as metaphor)

In your embrace you hold two Ruyi diagrams (symbols of protecting and opening the heart—also standing for the wish that things go “as you wish”). Everyone has this diagram by nature; it is not divided between men and women.

One may ask: can a person truly be “as they wish”? If you can accord with Rulai (Buddha-fruition, original awakening) and thus be “as you wish,” boundless subtle realms appear of themselves in the chest.

When you can truly be “as you wish,” you do not betray the name “Ruyi diagram,” and you also gain its reality; feisheng (transcendence, ascending to a higher reach) is then close at hand.

Great Compassion Pure Buddha

In movement and in stillness you must never leave “this” (this present thought, this aperture, this ball of true breath); if you leave it, the path goes wrong.

Kun yin (the yin body, yin essence, the yielding side) is refined into a Qian yang body (pure yang, firm and vigorous quality)—standing between heaven and earth; you must not be weak and yielding (you must not settle for empty talk without real practice).

(The last sentence of the original is damaged and repeats the previous section; the gist is still: hold to “this,” refine the transformation of yin and yang, and only then gain real accomplishment.)

Movement and Stillness, and True Intent

Neither movement nor stillness may depart from “this”; once you depart from it, the path of cultivation goes wrong. (Here “this” refers to true intent—that bit of clear, focused inner aim in practice. Hold this sincerity at all times, and pre-heaven qi will naturally return. When intent skews, it is no longer the right path.) The Kun-yin body must be transformed into a Qian-yang body. (Women belong to yin by nature; they must be refined until they rise lightly like yang, before the body can become light.) One must also stand between heaven and earth, not shrinking back in weakness. (Yin nature tends toward softness; on the Dao one needs the resolve to stand firm between heaven and earth, or there is little hope of attainment.)

The Limitless Jade Immortal (Wuji Qiong Zhenren)

Once you enter the empty gate, everything of the world should be set down—so why does the red dust still hang on the heart?

The example of the Ancient Buddha of Golden Sand (Guanyin Bodhisattva) remains—why not sit quietly in Chan, follow that model, and reach right awakening? (This speaks to those already left home: they should cultivate urgently.)

Buddha of the Awakened World

Most pitiable are widows who keep their husband’s memory (women who remain chaste after a husband’s death); holding to their vow like frost and ice, they suffer truly.

Steadfast chastity itself is the seed of immortals and buddhas; only by cultivating urgently can one escape the dust of the world.

(Ordinary people call such women chaste widows; they keep their husband’s honor, stern as frost and ice, not knowing how much they endure. Female immortals and female buddhas all take steadfast purity as their root. If one is already a chaste widow, one is already seed of immortal and buddha—what gain in lingering in the world’s dust? This says chaste widows should cultivate without delay.)

The Clear Pure Buddha

What the Queen Mother of the West selects is the true Way that honors female cultivation; “form is emptiness”—see it clearly.

Primordial undifferentiated qi is neither deficient nor damaged; once you obtain the method, one round of refinement and the work is done.

The Queen Mother especially values those who can attain the status of female immortal (nüzhen). “Form is emptiness” (se ji shi kong): for those with superior spiritual capacity, form and emptiness are not two—form is emptiness and emptiness is form. Cultivating along this understanding to become a female immortal is why the Queen Mother shows such favor and esteem toward such practitioners.

“Primordial chaos-yuanqi suffers no loss or damage”: innate primordial qi is complete from the start; women need not, like men, rely on “patching leaks” to preserve essence (jing).

“Once the method is obtained, one refinement completes the work”: once one receives the authentic pre-heaven method, a single round of practice can often bring accomplishment—showing that on the female path, when the root capacity fits, progress can be very swift. This is a reminder that girls should begin practice early.

Do not assume that household duties are so tangled they can never be set aside and cultivation is impossible. Women carry within themselves the virtue of Kun and a kind of upright qi of the feminine dimension (kunwei); one need not let a lifetime slip away because chores bind one forever.

“From nothing, entering being, nurturing the spirit embryo”: the spirit embryo is not inserted from outside; it condenses from emptiness through one’s own shen and qi.

“What forms in the lower field is not what forms in the middle field”: what forms in the lower dantian is the ordinary womb-body (linked to childbirth); what forms in the middle dantian (around the Yellow Court, huangting) is the spirit embryo of cultivation. The ordinary embryo depends on outer conditions; the spirit embryo arises purely from one’s own shen and qi—hence “from nothing, entering being.” The point is that women at home should still seize the path and anchor the work in the middle field, not the lower.

On the four famous sacred mountains there are many female immortals: some achieved through filial devotion, some through chastity and integrity, some through Chan meditation. The methods differ, but they converge on the same inner alchemy (neidan) Way.

“In all cases take mind-nature as the root; when merit is full and conduct complete, one mounts the jade lotus”: the two words “mind-nature” (xinxing) are the foundation of elixir cultivation—neither men nor women can do without them. This section sums up the whole scripture: only when mind-nature is thoroughly cultivated and merit and conduct are complete can one ride the jade lotus and ascend to the true realm.

[Upper Right] Annotation by the Jade Maidens in the Retinue of the White Lotus Immortal

Xichi Ji (Western Pool Collection)

Authors: Golden Mother of the Western Pool; Maiden Lady Wang of Great Perfection

Commentary: Emperor Fuyou, Huichunzi

Edited by: Fu Jinquan of Jinxi

Preface to the Xichi Ji

It is said: Qian (Heaven) is firm and strong and presides over the Way of Heaven; Kun (Earth) is yielding and governs what is inner and nurturing. The path by which all things are generated lies in the mutual blending of Yin and Yang; the harmony of Heaven and Earth in fruitful union gathers the three powers—Heaven, Earth, and Humanity—and, like shaping clay, gives them form.

The virtue expected of women lies in speech and conduct, needlework, and bearing; quiet restraint and gentle compliance are the norms proper to the inner quarters.

Yet even those born with a spiritual root and early wisdom still meet hard fates: one weaves a palindrome poem yet still suffers slander in waves of gossip; a fair face is buried in a green mound, and in the end the soul returns only to the moonlit night. As for the rest—cloudlike hair and misty coils, sunk in the sea of desire; weeping over fragrance and grieving over rouge, fallen into the pit of fire—the body of the five leaks often carries karmic hindrances from past lives; failing to awaken to the three causes adds fresh wrongs in this life. Long life and early death, poverty and success cannot all be counted; beauty and ugliness, foolishness and wisdom are beyond full telling. In the end it is because the world lacks transmission of the Kun Way (female cultivation), so people find it hard to escape the turns of calamity and fate.

Therefore a memorial was sent to the Most High; by imperial command the perfected assembled. In verse they expound the nature of mind; in turning phrases they lodge the shout of awakening. Knowing stillness, yet fearing a fall into dead emptiness, there is further true transmission teaching one how to begin in earnest practice. Every line is like yuye (jade fluid—the subtle essence of internal refinement); each is work for cultivating the body and establishing life. Every character is like a golden needle (a crucial secret); each is a formula for binding the tiger and leading the dragon (in Neidan, subduing Yin-Yang and circulating Jing and Qi). If one sincerely refines and exercises, before one’s eyes lies Xuanzhou (the mystic realm, the fairyland of the Way); if one cultivates by the method, jiangxue (crimson snow—the metaphor for the inner elixir) will congeal of itself in the cauldron.

Better than being tangled in the world’s net, clinging to this one thought of splendor, is to cut through the gate of emotion and secure a domain of the Way for ten thousand years. Xichi (the Western Pool—the realm invoked in female Neidan) has a path to cross; boat and oar are right here. A few words are appended to sound the mudu (wooden bell that awakens the world). Chongyangzi respectfully prefaces.

Eighteen Poems on the Work of Nature (section title: eighteen poems on the “work of nature”)

Part One

Main text

When the full moon hangs directly overhead, its light on the water shines with unusual clarity; heaven, earth, and the myriad things all seem turned to crystal. A slanting streak of cloud-shadow crosses the pool, and an inverted image appears in the water; a moment later, the bright moon is reflected again upon the clear waves.

Huichunzi says

When timing and method are right, the precious appearance is full and round as a sphere; the moon illumines the cold pool and its light reaches in every direction. Only what is clear can become limpid, and only what is limpid can reflect; in stillness one can illumine, in illumining one can penetrate, and awakened nature and luminous spirit will show themselves of their own accord. The wondrous meaning that came from the West is vast and perfectly round, lively and subtly mysterious, like the pearl of the Eastern Sea restored to its place. The four seas surge and swell, water meeting the sky at the horizon; in the depths where water and sky merge, there is a source one may encounter.

Haichanzi says

I delight in annotating these poems on nature and principle together with fellow enthusiasts, at the time when mind is clarified and nature seen, and the Way is fulfilled. Liu Chi also came to the Longhua assembly, drunk and slow in “catching the moon” in the clear pool.

Lingyangzi says

This evening we happily meet at the clever festival; clarity and purity are especially fitting at such a time; the moon’s light, bright and clean, imprints on the deep pool, truly as if the stars of heaven were hung upside down. Without clinging to bizarre forms and colors, how could one “empty” the mind merely because the realm is empty? One spirit penetrates and the pearl before oneself is revealed; fish eyes should know they are not the true pearl.

(Lingyangzi’s later lines largely repeat the earlier ones, with the same intent: do not fix on strange appearances, do not empty the heart just because the environment is empty; luminous spirit shines through, and one must not take fish eyes for the real pearl.)

Changchunzi says

Heart (xin) and nature (xing) were never the same thing to begin with; nature must be seen within the heart. Water and moon are both clear and pure, and the light on the waves naturally stays unstained.

Part Two

Main text

The Spirit Platform (lingtai) is deep and broad like the clear Yangtze, and where the source is distant, the flow must run long. Let the “poison dragon” struggle and frolic as it will—how could that compare to mud churned up in a ditch or stream?

Huichunzi says

Clear light is like a mirror; it needs no extra refining or polishing. With the slightest wipe, the poison dragon appears. Alas! Nothing more to say. The wondrous meaning from the West: the single sandal returns as before.

Part Three

Main text

Polished yet not worn thin, dyed yet not blackened; why envy favor, why shrink from disgrace? In stillness appears a perfectly round aspect; with the slightest wipe, the poison dragon appears.

Huichunzi says

(Same purport as above.) Clear light like a mirror needs no forging or grinding; one stroke of polishing and the poison dragon appears. Alas! Nothing more to say. The wondrous meaning from the West: the single sandal returns as before.

Brief glosses on terms (where first needed, lightly explained in the text above)

• Spirit Platform (lingtai): In Daoism, often the dwelling of heart and spirit; here a metaphor for the deep, broad source of the mind.
• Poison dragon: A figure for wandering thoughts, desires, or inner disturbance—not a literal dragon-beast.
• Wondrous meaning from the West: Borrowing Chan “from the West” language for the root, complete teaching.
• The single sandal returns as before: From the Bodhidharma story—the patriarch’s intent finally returns to its own place, not stuck in words.
• Longhua assembly: Name of a Buddhist dharma gathering; here borrowed for meeting with companions to discuss the Way.
• Fish eyes passed off as pearls: Taking the false for the true; Lingyangzi stresses that true spirit must not be confused with false appearance.

First

However you grind it, it will not wear thin; however you dye it, it will not turn black. When favored, there is no need to envy; when shamed, no need to argue. Only when a full round moon appears in stillness can one trust that this person is no fool.

Huichunzi said: A blow to the head—those who awaken grasp it for themselves; when the awakened nod in assent, they are one with penetration and quiescent extinction.

Second (the original marks this as “Fourth”; in sequence it should be the second—the heading follows the source)

Evil need not be deeply hated, good need not be self-praised; hold to your own nature and let the rest go. Like the earth thunder shaking, True Suchness appears; let spirit-consciousness roam and illumine in the “upper sea”—the high realm within the body.

Huichunzi said: What is the Dharma? One clod of dry shit! One clap of thunder—and no fear of being struck dead.

Third (original “Fifth”)

Thick clouds and dense mist, all bleak and blurred, hide the original “bodhisattva face”; unless a clear wind sweeps the clouds away, how can the moon’s light—the toad’s radiance, the clear light—appear full and round?

Huichunzi said: Sit on the meditation cushion a while; in an instant, one turn, one somersault—and the bodhisattva countenance is revealed.

Fourth (original “Sixth”)

Nature is like a pool of clear water; the mind is level as the great earth. When grass grows, cut it; where the wind passes, green waves are clear again.

Huichunzi said: Nature does not leave the mind; the mind must be empty and without attachment. The moment a thought of “being” arises, some use the harsh method of “cutting”—that is an inferior approach.

Fifth (original “Seventh,” with two comments by Huichunzi recorded)

The single point of numinous clarity is originally pure and empty; clouds come and go, yet the moon remains as it was. Meeting worldly affairs is like light briefly blocked; when the po (Yin spirit) arises, the bright pearl still shows.

Huichunzi said: Without understanding Chan, how can one know bowing to Buddha? One fist shatters—(one version) and that is the Dharma gate; (another) the five fingers still have not loosened.

Sixth (original “Eighth”)

The mind is like a wild bird, hardest to tame; as soon as it leaves the cage, seize it. Do not let it fly north and south with the wind—originally already in disorder, once you indulge it you fall into a deep pit.

Huichunzi said: Clearly it is a round moon, yet it is already pointed out as the sun. Sun and moon shine with heavenly virtue; rivers and mountains bolster the imperial capital. Ha! Who knows?

Seventh (original “Ninth”)

One point of numinous clarity, one point of gold—drift with the wind and it sinks without trace. Clearly there is a bodhi seed; where can one seek it when nature is confused and spirit dim?

Note: This passage relies heavily on neidan (internal alchemy) imagery—the moon, toad radiance, earth thunder, True Suchness, the “upper sea,” and so on. “Cutting grass” and the “wild bird” stand for subduing the restless mind; “one fist shatters” and similar lines belong to Chan staff-and-shout style, here read together with teachings on women’s elixir practice. In the source, “Seventh” appears twice and numbering jumps from “Third” to “Fourth”—likely copyist error; the explanation follows the text as given, section by section.

Huichunzi says: You dress and eat, yet do not cling to feeling full or warm; when heart and breath rest in mutual dependence and wandering thoughts are exhausted, the body of your nature is empty and luminous—then it is like a lotus opening in blazing fire: the true realm appears right in ordinary life.

The Tenth Saying

Let go of the seeds of grief and romantic attachment. Outwardly be as mild as a spring day; inwardly be as firm as iron and stone. Adversity and ease, death and life, are one in principle—yet if you split them and cling only to movement versus stillness, you have gone wrong.

Huichunzi says: You can stand your ground in a thicket of thorns and turn yourself around in the depths of a pool. What to fear is clinging to clear breezes and bright moons, sitting in a daze before green mountains, and wasting your practice on scenery.

The Eleventh Saying

Human life is as restless as duckweed; when will the waves in the sea of karma ever settle? To recognize your original face, you must earnestly, under the moon, inquire of the zhenren (True Person)—the inner true self.

Huichunzi says: One alms bowl, one rice bowl—wherever you go, that is home. Meet an old shen (stern master), and he raises his staff and strikes: no fixed form; take it up on the spot.

The Twelfth Saying

Primordial, undifferentiated qi has no shape to begin with; only when the gengjia interval arrives (the moment of alchemical union and firing) do you begin to discern that something has form. Do not say that “is” and “is not” are impossible to tell apart—you must see that seeking within yourself (inner practice) surpasses seeking from others (external reliance).

Huichunzi says: One Mani pearl—light from the whole realm of sand cannot cover it; the dragon girl’s offering of the pearl is just this one thought of recognition. Ah! One child, two mothers; kin at all four gates—none may be neglected. Lose this, and everything is wrong.

The Thirteenth Saying

Outward turbidity—you must know the inner is originally clear. “Dragon head, tiger tail” (longtou huwei—lead and mercury, the phases of firing) arise in their proper season. If you can merge the ordinary and the sage into one, white snow and yellow sprouts (the inner medicine) will slowly grow.

Huichunzi says: What is the Dao? When you need to urinate, urinate; eat, dress, live—there is no need to spin extra doctrine around it.

The Fourteenth Saying

The Great Dao must first nurture “timing” and “life” (breath, vitality, the living pulse); if the ordinary and the sage are united, white snow and yellow sprouts grow of themselves. (This repeats the previous passage in meaning.)

Huichunzi says: What is the Dao? Same as above—daily rising, eating, and dressing is the Dao.

The Fourteenth Saying (continued)

The Great Dao must first nurture the nature-spirit (xingling). When the light of spirit is thoroughly awakened, returning to the root is easy. Even if jing, qi, and shen are all full, if you still dwell in “darkness”—without clear awareness, without knowing the phases of firing—how can you understand refining and “cooking” (the alchemical firing)?

Huichunzi says: (The source text breaks off here; on what remains:) The passage above stresses the nature-spirit, returning to the root, and jing, qi, and shen. If you only accumulate qi without illuminating the nature and the firing hidden in the dark, practice still stays at the level of form.

Selected Passages from Collected Female Elixir Scriptures — Plain-Language Commentary

Section Fifteen

Close the mouth and gather the spirit; practice only inner observation. The Dharma-body constantly appears at the tip of a hair’s breadth. In stillness, hold the treasure of numinous clarity and settle it directly in the middle palace—that is the Golden Elixir.

Huichunzi says:

After you have got it, you must still keep the mouth closed. If you still refuse to accept what is yours, even a bamboo switch cannot drive you away.

Tut tut tut! If you come again, it won’t be worth half a cash—go rest behind the abbot’s quarters.

Section Sixteen

The long sky is clear and originally unstained; clouds coming and going are only busying themselves. Stir the “wind” at the Xun position (in inner refinement, often paired with breath and ascent/descent); it circles above and below. The light of nature and the treasure of life both return to the pouch (the lower Dantian or “sea of Qi”—imagery of storing and holding).

Huichunzi says:

Like a cloth bag—it holds everything, chaotic and dim, yet nothing can be let out.

Section Seventeen

Bright and dark need not be split by worldly affairs; in leisure, seek the face “before your own body” (innate nature, the untainted true self). Stay alert and clear, not swayed by heat and cold or changing moods; put birth and death aside together—only then do you reach utmost truth.

Huichunzi says:

Above the nine heavens and below the nine springs—it is like Shaolin staff technique, striking high and low together. Once it is opened through, act as your heart wills.

Section Eighteen

In leaping flames the green dragon dances; in vast clear waves the white tiger crouches. With a cord bind tiger’s tail and dragon’s head; bring them back to the spirit chamber and merge with the true source (inner alchemy often uses green dragon and white tiger for yin-yang and water-fire; the spirit chamber is the place of “joint refinement” in the heart or Dantian).

Huichunzi says:

Long absent from home, the road was far and long; now returning, you know parents and wife are each at peace.

Ah! The thousand-year stone pillar still stands—let mulberry fields turn to a blue sea.

Postface to Xichi Collection

A postface is a short note appended after a collection; it usually explains how the book was compiled, how it circulated, and urges readers to believe and practice—not merely to keep the title on the shelf without acting. Works on female elixir often stress here that women’s practice has its own passageways and stages; one must refine according to a clear master and authentic formulas, and must not mechanically copy men’s elixir methods.

The Book of Changes says: “The way of Kun is supremely great—through it all things receive their forms and life.” Is this not precisely the principle that Kun follows and supports Qian, receiving the firm with the yielding? Yet among women in the world, few truly understand the way of Kun or embody the virtue of Kun. Some cling to stubborn habits; some take extravagance and harshness as the fashion—countless kinds of delusion. Even when one or two have aspiration and wish to transcend birth and death, if they probe deeply they still do not know what “xing” and “ming” actually are. One often sees village wise women and old wives who learn a few phrases of oral karma-talk and assume the Great Way is no more than that—then they practice blindly and lead others astray as well. Alas! All this comes from the loss of the authentic secret of female Kun cultivation.

Now Xichi Ji appears, revealing secrets not transmitted for ages. With great compassionate mind it opens a skillful gate, hoping that women everywhere will revere, believe, practice, and study it thoroughly. Every word in the book carries merit; every line holds a key—do not pass them by lightly. What paper and ink cannot fully record rests entirely on sincere pursuit of the Way: then one will meet an enlightened master or true person for guidance. Above all, take shouxin (gathering-in the mind, settling scattered thoughts and stabilizing spirit) and yangqi (nourishing vital energy) as the first steps at the door. If the mind is not gathered, the xinggen (root of xing—the foundation related to nature/ spirit) grows dim; if qi is not nourished, the mingti (root of ming—the foundation related to life/ embodiment) disperses. Only when xingming shuangxiu (dual cultivation of nature and life—advancing spirit-work and life-work together) is complete is the Kun path whole. Readers of this book must not sit by and miss the opportunity, failing the author’s compassionate heart to ferry the world.

Respectful postscript by Lingyangzi

Female Golden Elixir

By Yongzhong Zhenyizi

The Great Dao does not divide men and women; anyone may reach completion in cultivation. A man who completes the work is called a True Person (Zhenren); a woman who does so is called a Primordial Ruler (Yuanjun). For ages, elixir scriptures have treated men’s practice in detail and at length, while dedicated discussion of women’s practice has been rare; when it appears, it is usually only a line or two—not because female cultivation is held in contempt. The likely reason is this: human nature and life are the same for all, and the basic work is the same, so if only men’s path is spelled out, one may assume women need no separate account. In fact men are yang on the outside and yin within, while women are yin on the outside and yang within; innate endowment differs and the body is not the same. Though nature and life are one and the same in principle, how one actually carries out the practice differs greatly.

Xiu Zhen Bian Nan (Discriminating Difficulties in Cultivation) says: “For a man, the essential starting point is refining Qi; for a woman, the essential starting point is refining the form.” Patriarch Xu said: “A man completes the work by not leaking essence; a woman completes it by not leaking menstruation.” At the first gate the paths are plainly not the same. Steps such as refining the self, obtaining the medicine, returning the elixir, warm nurturing, forming the embryo, and the spirit emerging are largely the same as for men, yet in fine detail and sequence there are still points of small difference and of large difference.

Preface

In the spring of the year Renchen, a female Daoist companion came to ask about the path of cultivation. I urged her to read more ancient books, so as to verify what she had received in transmission. Scriptures on internal alchemy devote little space to women’s practice, so it is hard to compare and contrast. Therefore, setting aside concern about revealing heaven’s secrets, I have written down what is the same and different between women’s and men’s cultivation, and the order of each stage, as signposts for those entering the path. Thus readers may follow the text to grasp the meaning and not mistake the false for the true; if they deeply understand and earnestly practice, mercury in the golden cauldron can be refined to completion, and they may attain the supreme Dao. In the future, at the gathering at the Jasper Pool, female immortals too may join the male immortals in audience with Mugong (lord of male immortals) and in homage to Jinmu (Golden Mother, lady of female immortals).

Written in the second month of the year Renchen of the Great Qing Guangxu era, by Yongzhong Zhenyizi (the author’s Daoist name), from the Reclining Cloud West Studio at Yudai Stream.

Volume One · Rules and Precepts · Setting the Will to Enter the Dao

Heaven is yang and earth is yin; Qian is firm and Kun is yielding. Yin cannot grow without yang, nor yang be born without yin. Firm and yielding take central harmony, and only then can fire and water achieve completion (jiji). Yin and yang must pair, and from this humans and things are conceived. Thus heaven and earth both partake of True Primordial Qi, and men and women alike possess bodies capable of cultivation toward deathlessness. Qian governs great generation; men may complete the Dao and attain right awakening. Kun governs broad generation; women too can realize the fruit of Yuanjun (the female immortal rank).

If one says that yin belonging to Kun makes it hard for women to enter the path of immortality, why did Xi Wangmu (Queen Mother of the West) dwell long on Kunlun? Chang'e once stole the elixir from the rafters and became mistress of the Moon Palace forever; some read Zhuangzi’s (Master Zhu of Qi Garden) book and styled themselves immortals banished from Yaochi. Luoshen and the Wushan goddess have been famous since antiquity; Zigu and the Xiang Consorts are still revered today—their deeds appear in historical records and can be verified. Those who embody Kun virtue—why could they not become immortals? Only because they sink in the sea of desire and never awaken the mind that seeks the Way, so they cannot leap from confusion and become women who ascend the clouds. Nature is yin and soft; insight easily skews. Some do not understand the Four Virtues (morality, speech, countenance, work) or the Three Obediences (to father before marriage, to husband after, to son if widowed). When wrong, they do not amend; fields of merit ought to be cultivated but are not. They indulge passion and lose true nature, abandon themselves, and sink lower. Know that the human world is like floating clouds; the dusty realm is originally a sea of karmic suffering—rather than fall again in samsara, why not turn back and reach the other shore? The path to Penglai is before your eyes; the ladder to Jade Capital is in awakening of the heart. Buddha is mind; mind is Buddha. Immortals can follow my example; I too can become immortal. Jade cinnabar and golden lead (metaphors in internal alchemy for refined essence and spirit) are truly the raft of deliverance; alchemical scriptures and Buddhist sutras are truly the steps into the Way. Yet heavenly secrets are not easily spoken plain; scripture often hides head and tail. Even if you read the luminous jade (fine scriptures) by heart, you still must seek teachers and visit friends—hear one secret to grasp one secret; each stage has another beyond. If you can cut worldly ties, bow to a clear master and seek the heart-method, how hard is it to enter the jade palace, pay homage to Jinmu (Xi Wangmu), and take your place among the immortals? People should set their will and encourage one another.

Entry Precepts (Twelve Articles) (below only the first five titles appear; the gist of each precept is as follows)

First precept: guard against successive deluded thoughts—restrain the mind from restless stray thoughts and unceasing fantasy.

Second precept: guard against indulgence and lust—restrain dissolute passion and clinging to lewdness.

Third precept: guard against harshness and cruelty—restrain a fierce, violent temper and treating others with severity.

Fourth precept: guard against vexation and anger—restrain worry that binds the heart and sudden rage.

Fifth precept: guard against worry, brooding, and terror—restrain long anxiety, brooding, and panic that disturb qi and spirit.

Third precept: harsh, violent, and cruel

Refrain from stubborn self-will, violent harm to others, and cruel, cutting behavior.

Fourth precept: vexation and angry rage

Refrain from inner turmoil and from hatred and outbursts of anger.

Fifth precept: worry, excessive thought, fear, and panic

Refrain from excessive sorrow, brooding, dread, and sudden fright.

Sixth precept: the eyes looking at what they should not

Refrain from the eyes wandering to what one ought not see or what is improper.

Seventh precept: the ears listening to what they should not

Refrain from the ears taking in idle talk, gossip, and heterodox teachings.

Eighth precept: much talk and arrogant speech

Refrain from excessive, loose speech and boastful, arrogant words.

Ninth precept: stinginess and clinging to wealth

Refrain from miserliness and being overly unwilling to part with money.

Tenth precept: killing and harming life

Refrain from killing living beings and damaging life.

Eleventh precept: not moderating flesh and strong-smelling foods

Refrain from eating meat and strong-smelling foods without restraint.

Twelfth precept: slighting the Dao and disrespecting the master

Refrain from treating the Great Dao lightly and disrespecting one’s teacher.

The precepts women should keep in cultivation are not limited to these twelve; yet if one truly upholds these twelve well, one is not far from attaining immortality (realizing the Dao).

Delusive thoughts are all kinds of arrogant, improper notions. The ancients said: “The single thought free of stray distraction is right mindfulness—that is, true intent.” This trace of true intent cannot be absent; with it, one can refine lead to obtain mercury and concentrate the spirit to nurture the embryo. The alchemical classics also say: “In walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, never depart from this.” What “this” refers to is true intent.

That is entirely unlike those improper delusive thoughts. Delusive thoughts branch in countless directions and cannot be named: at first they arise from nothing, then they turn into fantasies directed at outer things; one thought has barely stopped when another follows, spreading from this to that, stirred the moment any object appears. When thoughts turn to what pleases, one cannot help feeling smug; when they turn to what disappoints, one can hardly suppress self-pity and grief. All day there is not a moment of peace; at night in sleep, spirit and soul still find no rest.

When what one sends forth is delusive, nothing in one’s conduct fails to be delusive. How can such a person speak of the path of immortality? Even if it has not yet shown in action and is only groundless wandering in the mind—the eyes of the spirits are bright as lightning, their gaze how strict! Moreover, human birth and death in the cycle of rebirth often spring from a single thought—where emotional attachment binds, there one is reborn. Alas! One thought can plant boundless rounds of birth and death; how can people not be careful about what thoughts they send forth?

Those who truly realize the Dao understand that groundless, unsubstantiated deluded thoughts bind and harm one’s true nature and, after death, lead one to fall into the six paths of reincarnation. Therefore they devote themselves to examining closely and staying alert: Where does this thought arise? Where does it cease completely? What is it like before it has arisen? What is it like once it has arisen? The moment a thought stirs, they at once cut it off with the sword of wisdom, uprooting it entirely so that it cannot secretly grow in hidden corners. They must keep this mind empty, still, and silent, with all thoughts cleared away, leaving only a single thread of luminous awareness intact—spacious, free, and vividly alive. Then selfish desire is fully removed, the Heavenly principle runs its course naturally, and the path to becoming an immortal is not far. So those who first enter the gate of the Way must above all be careful and unwavering at this critical juncture; only then can they be called resolute female practitioners and genuine vessels of the Dharma within the Daoist tradition.

The hardest barrier to break is often the gate of lust (se yu).

Why do people have a body in this life? Because that “root of lust” has not yet been fully uprooted—once lust arises, the nature enters through the male and female organs and is reborn as a human. How does the body come to be? From the parents’ sexual union. People come from lust, so the habit runs deepest and the root is hard to pull out.

Moreover, human life depends entirely on this portion of Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). Indulgence in lust injures Jing; injured Jing leaves the Yang Pass unsteady, and myriad illnesses follow. The ancients said: “A hundred pills are not worth one night of sleeping alone.” That is urging us to cherish this Jing-Qi. For every bit of Jing-Qi preserved, years are added to one’s lifespan. Only when the foundation is established without leakage and the Yang Pass is closed can one speak of longevity.

Women’s emotions stir easily; once they crave sexual union, desire-fire burns the body and feeling is hard to restrain. Without a husband to satisfy desire, they often harm lifespan and De (virtue/power). (The original text here is repetitive and corrupt; the sense is roughly this.) In old stories, Wei Shiyi’s daughter studied the Way; her master transformed into a imposing man, teased her in every way, even forced violation—her mind did not move, and only then was she taught immortal arts. So many who have not uprooted the root of lust lose their chance at immortality; even if they luckily hear the teaching, if this practice is carried out amid appearances of form, it will not work; even if forced through, the embryo formed is only a “lust embryo”—when the spirit exits and meets lust again it re-enters the womb, and prior effort is wasted.

Heaven’s palace fairy maidens often descend into the red dust; mostly it is because emotional ties are not severed. How can one fail to observe the precept?

The method of the precept: do not think, do not look. Not thinking checks desire before it rises; not looking cuts off the thought on the spot. Wenchang Dijun said: “What you have not seen, do not think on; when you see, do not be disorderly; once seen, do not recall.” That is truly a fine admonition for keeping the precept of purity.

But is it only not thinking, not being disorderly, not recalling? You must uproot the root of feeling entirely—see form as emptiness, emptiness as form; forget feeling in the face of objects, have no desire within desire—only then can one discuss the immortal Way. I have never heard of anyone who, cherishing a mind of lust, still hoped to obtain the Way of the highest truth and succeeded.

Supplementary note: Wei Shiyiniang was a poor woman from Chang’an in the Song dynasty. She married a son of the Deng family from the same region; he was fond of knight-errant ways, and she often urged him to change, so the two fell out. During the Zhenghe reign he went to serve as a soldier on the frontier and for a long time no news came from him. Her elder brother-in-law was dissolute and often made improper advances in words; Wei Shiyiniang refused him firmly. She remembered Zhao the Daoist nun, a childhood friend who could pass on Daoist arts, and went to her for refuge. The nun gladly took her into the hermitage and taught her techniques. At dusk the nun went down the mountain, leaving Wei to stay alone overnight, and warned her: “Do not drink wine, and do not break the precept against lust.” Wei Shiyiniang thought that in such a remote mountain those two things could hardly happen. After the later watch of the night a man climbed over the wall and entered; she rose at once and questioned him, but he did not answer. He came forward to embrace her; she refused and would not yield, and his demands grew more forceful. She drew a sword to strike, but he drew a sword in reply—his fencing was very skilled. Knowing she could not win, she dropped the sword and pleaded: “My fate is unlucky; I have long kept my mind clear of worldly desire—how can you bear to ruin me? And my master laid a clear prohibition; I swear I will not break it.” He pressed the sword to her neck to force her; she stretched out her neck as if awaiting the blade. He put away the sword and laughed: “I see your mind is unchanged.” When she looked, it was the Daoist nun herself. From then on the nun taught her all her arts without holding anything back.

Three Precepts: rigidity and violence, cruelty, and harshness—this heading marks three dispositions that cultivation requires one to renounce: being stubborn and explosive, being cruel, and being cutting or unforgiving in spirit.

Fourth Precept: Let Go of Worry and Anger

“Firmness” (gang) is a virtue. Without inner strength, a person grows weak and listless and accomplishes nothing—this quality of firmness cannot be done without. But firmness without ritual and propriety turns into violence: clinging to one’s own view and refusing to yield, ignoring right and wrong and human feeling, showing no respect to parents-in-law, quarreling with sisters-in-law, failing to honor one’s husband, bullying nephews and nieces, and mistreating servants—this is what people call a “shrew.” Thus when firmness is paired with fierceness, it often becomes cruel, unkind, and harsh.

One must first have a heart of benevolence before one can have the expansive mind of baoyu—treating all under heaven as one’s own brothers and sisters. The Holy Mother Yuan Jun (a revered female immortal in Daoism) saw the world as one household and China as one person; she cherished every kind of being above and below, protecting them as one would an infant, never harboring hatred or sliding into cruelty. Guanyin Bodhisattva is called the “Compassionate Ferry” (Cihang) because she takes benevolence as her root and saves all beings, becoming a mother of mercy amid great calamity—so her spirit endures even through the ages of destruction.

If one is fierce and violent, one loses the Kun way’s virtue of yin softness and yielding; if one is cruel and cutting, one lacks the Kun virtue of broad sustaining and nurturing life. What use has heaven in choosing such a person? What good is there in the earth keeping them? Better to die early than speak of long life. Therefore, for those of fierce temperament, cultivate gentleness and ease, like a spring breeze that harmonizes with everything without clashing; for the cruel, turn toward kindness and grace, like timely rain that moistens all so none are left without its benefit. When the outer conduct is thus, the inner nature becomes clear and at ease within, lively and full, holding boundless vitality. In that case, is not the seat of the Compassionate Ferry Guanyin waiting for you?

Vexation means that when you run into things that are troublesome and wearing, resentment flares up inside. Who goes through life with nothing to do? You should take tasks one by one, at an easy pace, not tallying credit or blame, not shrinking from hardship or fuss—then things can actually get done. If every bit of bother and fatigue turns into resentment, what under heaven can ever succeed? Nourishing the nature calls for even more patience with bother and effort. The mind is used to wandering; the moment you try to gather and hold it, it is like taming a live dragon or tiger—it will not submit or yield all at once. You must nurture it calmly: neither clamp down to the point of stiffness nor let it run loose, neither neglect it nor push it, and allow it to settle in its own way. Cultivate it a little today and you gain a little; cultivate it a little tomorrow and you gain a little more. When you have nourished it to fullness, clarity and wholeness will come in their own time. If you grow vexed because purity does not come at once, how can the nature become clear and complete?

Anger and irritation mean that when things do not go your way, you resent and rage. Reflect: how can everything in the world bend to your will? It is unlikely that a single outburst will make events match your wishes—that notion has things backward. All you can do is accept what comes. Moreover, those in whom anger runs very deep tend to have cruel, harsh hearts; after death many are said to fall into the bellies of poisonous serpents—Xia La turned into a snake because of anger, Empress Chi into a python for the same reason; these are well-attested examples. Anger sometimes springs from vexation, and vexation sometimes from anger; both weigh on the heart and should be dropped as soon as you can.

(This section is titled “Five Precepts: Worry, Overthinking, Fear, and Alarm”; the main text emphasizes refraining from vexation and anger and irritation, which together with worry, overthinking, fear, and alarm are habits that harm the heart and obstruct the Dao, and should be renounced along with them.)

How Excessive Thinking and Fear Harm the Body

Excessive thinking injures the Spleen; when worry and rumination run too deep, Qi stagnates and cannot move freely. Excessive fear injures the Kidneys; when shock and terror take hold, the spirit scatters and cannot settle within. Worrying endlessly before anything has happened, trembling in advance of what has not yet arrived—these are the first steps toward obscuring one’s true nature and the root of wasting essence, draining Qi, and scattering Shen. If one does not restrain them, internal injury easily follows. The way to restrain them is to remain calm and inwardly empty, not letting external things lodge in the mind. When worry arises, reason through it and discern the matter; if understanding still does not release it, let it be—what use is further fear? The internal illnesses people suffer often spring from this.

Why does the heart of panic arise? Mostly because one dreads calamity falling on oneself. Day by day, looking up to Heaven with a clear conscience and down upon others without shame—if I do not wrong others, others will not harm me; what is there to dread? Even if sudden misfortune strikes, life and death have their allotted measure; one accepts what comes. The sage does not startle though Mount Tai collapses before him, nor fear though blade and saw are at his neck—because Shen and Qi are settled. In ancient times at Wancheng, someone tested the Bluebird Lord with color, sound, fragrance, taste, touch, and with joy, anger, worry, thought, grief, fear, and shock; two of these impulses were not extinguished, and he became only an earthly immortal. If students do not work at these points, they remain ordinary people—how can they expect real accomplishment?

The Sixth Precept: Excessive False Looking with the Eyes

The eye is chief among the “Six Thieves” (the six senses—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—that plunder the spirit outward)…

On the Eyes

The eyes rank first among the “six thieves.” When the eyes see forms, the heart is pulled by those forms and the hun (soul) leaks out through the eyes, harming the liver. At night the hun is stored in the liver; by day it lodges in the eyes. Looking about recklessly lets the hun escape through the eyes and brings restless dreams at night. Sages are dreamless because they can turn the gaze inward and not let the hun run outward by day, nor let the heart be led by forms. To gather the heart, one must first restrain the eyes. The practice is to often return the light of the eyes to the “Gate of Mystery” (xuan guan yi qiao), so the nature-body stays clear and undimmed and one nurtures the spirit of “suchness without stirring.” Then the eyes do not look wrongly, the heart does not move wrongly, the hun does not wander outward, and the spirit does not race outward—and pre-heaven Qi can return to the body.

Seventh Precept: Listening Rashly with the Ears

The kidneys open into the ears. Rash listening makes the heart follow sounds and essence leaks through the ears, harming the kidneys. The kidneys hold the pre-heaven “true one” water that nourishes the body’s ying and wei. When the kidneys are injured, the complexion withers and essence is lost, leading to deafness. If one often turns ear-awareness inward and listens within, the heart is not moved by sound, the heart is nourished, and essence often condenses in the kidneys—then one is not far from the immortal path.

Eighth Precept: Much Talk and Arrogant Speech

Speech easily invites resentment. Nangong repeated, “A flaw in a white jade tablet can still be polished; a flaw in what is said cannot be undone”—and the sage praised him for being careful with words. Much talk does not nourish benevolence in the heart; when Sima Niu asked about benevolence, the sage answered with “ren” (caution in speech)—restraining the outer to nourish the inner. Speech is the voice of the heart; the heart stores the spirit (Shen). Much talk injures the spirit. Guard the mouth like a sealed jar, and the spirit naturally stays in the heart; nature is not disturbed by words, and in daily dealings one is less likely to slip in speech toward others.

On Wealth

Wealth is meant to sustain all under heaven; no one can do without it. What matters is not to let wealth bewitch the heart. If one is stingy to the extreme and will not part with a single coin, even a mountain of gold cannot buy the Five Constants—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and sincerity. Rather than hoarding riches and playing the miser for one household, it is better to give generously to cultivate merit and forge karmic ties in the Daoist community. Those who attained immortality and true realization have mostly done so by widely sowing fields of merit. The ancients said: “If you cling to wealth and treasure, ten thousand immortals will not come to you.” Perfected persons treat rank and riches like drifting clouds and gold and jade like dirt—untainted by the least attachment, holding nothing back. Even this body is not truly “mine”; how much less wealth outside the body? Therefore those who enter the Way must break through this barrier and not let wealth fool them.

The Tenth Precept: Killing and Harming Life

Heaven and earth take love of life as their fundamental intent; sages cherish all beings in their hearts. Heaven and earth give birth to the myriad things, yet people kill them—greatly violating the harmony of heaven and earth. Sages cherish life, yet people harm it—greatly violating the benevolence of sages. Moreover, humans and other beings alike possess life; all love life and hate death—the feeling is the same in principle. You yourself, while alive, fear being hurt; while living, can other species not fear death? Extending from self to others, one cannot bear to kill. The ancients said: “If you wish to prolong life, you must release life.” Having taken up the Way and sought long life, one must extend sympathy from self to others and cherish the lives of other beings. Though the fate of other lives lies in human hands, wanton killing often brings dire retribution: saving ants has been rewarded with selection as top examinee; releasing sparrows has been repaid with a luminous pearl—examples through the ages of merit from releasing life are many. How can people fail to hold compassion toward other species, thereby nurturing their own love of life?

The Eleventh Precept: Not Moderating Meat and Bloody Food

(Only the name of this precept appears here; the main text is not preserved, so it cannot be developed from the source.)

This passage addresses whether those who cultivate the Way and nurture life should eat meat, and why one should “fast and abstain from fish and flesh”, weaving together the usual reasons for avoiding meat found in Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist traditions.

Flesh and Blood as Food and the Nurturing of Life

Foods heavy with the odor of fish and flesh can indeed nourish the body, yet people who long observe vegetarian fasts and touch neither fish nor flesh are not known to harm their health for that reason. Clearly, nurturing life does not depend entirely on eating flesh and blood.

People of high antiquity wore garments of grass and ate the fruits of plants and trees; the common folk often lived long. Once they learned to use fire and ate flesh in abundance, people instead died young—why? Because rich, fatty, and heavy flavors easily “stir the fire”: eating too much leads people to indulge desire and deplete Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy); the five grains, which receive the harmonizing Qi of Heaven and Earth, are purest and cleanest in flavor and are best for nurturing life.

Moreover, using the flesh of other creatures to supplement one’s own flesh is often hard to bear in the heart. Buddhism’s complete abstention from fish and flesh likewise means not multiplying acts of killing for the sake of appetite.

Lady of Mount Nanyue’s Admonition to Yang Xi

The Lady of Mount Nanyue (Madame Wei) once admonished Yang Xi: those who cultivate the Way should not often look at flesh and blood; when they see it they should turn away—better still never to see it at all. What is already dead carries corpse-Qi (shìqì); contact with it most obstructs cultivation. Hence those who enter the Way especially value moderation and cutting off fish and flesh.

Summary: The whole section advocates nourishing chiefly with grain, abstaining from fish and flesh to preserve Jing, reducing killing, and avoiding corpse-Qi—typical “dietary precepts” in Neidan (internal alchemy) and women’s alchemy texts.

Between heaven and earth, nothing is more precious or harder to come by than the Great Way of the Golden Elixir (the practice of refining the internal elixir from jing, qi, and shen to seek long life and transcendence). It can free one from the bonds of ordinary folk, see through and go beyond birth and death, and bring blessing even to nine generations of ancestors. The ancients said such an opportunity is hard to meet even across myriad kalpas—how could it be an ordinary matter?

Even someone as exalted as Emperor Wen of Han bowed respectfully and humbled himself to learn from Master He Shang (the immortal said to be Laozi’s transformation, who transmitted the Daodejing); even someone as wealthy as Ma Danyang (one of the Seven Perfected of Quanzhen) studied the Dao humbly under Wang Chongyang (founder of Quanzhen); even someone as brave as Han Zhongli (Zhongli Quan among the Eight Immortals) bowed his head to receive instruction from Wang Xuanfu (Donghua Dijun, Zhongli Quan’s teacher); even someone as learned as Baopuzi (Ge Hong, author of Baopuzi) knelt to take Deng Siyuan as master—what then of ordinary people like us?

Therefore those who seek the Dao must not rely on wealth or status, must not swagger or put on airs, and must not pride themselves on cleverness or learning; they must be sincere, humble, and ask with an open mind. Like Wu Chongxu, who swept floors and did menial service and pressed his questions earnestly for twenty years before receiving the true transmission—and those who transmit do not lightly hand the dharma lineage to just anyone.

Baopuzi said: To receive the oral instructions of Zhenyi (one of the secret core formulas of Daoism), one must swear an oath, with the blood of a white victim as witness, receive the method on an auspicious day when the five phases are in flourishing aspect (wangxiang), with silver and white silk as pledge, inscribe a golden contract kept in two parts—and whoever speaks of it lightly or transmits it wrongly to others will not receive the spirits’ protection.

Chongxuzi said: Since antiquity, when immortal sages transmit the true Way, one must first perform purification and ritual offerings according to liturgical procedure, prepare the prescribed tokens of sincerity, prick the finger to seal a covenant before Heaven, and report to the Supreme Lord, also informing the Three Terraces and Northern Dipper, the Three Officials of the Southern Stars, the Four Sages and Five Emperors, the Director of Fate, and all such lords—only after receiving permission to descend and grant approval may transmission proceed. For each person who receives it, no spirit or sage between Heaven and Earth fails to know. If wicked persons presumptuously seek the Way with wealth and goods, or deceitfully confer it in private, master and disciple alike suffer interrogation and punishment—how can one not be cautious? Since the envoy will not lightly transmit, how can the seeker lightly slight the matter?

Baopuzi (Ge Hong, author of Baopuzi) said: The kindness of a clear master truly surpasses Heaven and Earth and weighs more than one’s parents—how can one fail to honor it? From this it is clear: when a seeker of the Way meets a true master, one should respectfully and diligently inquire, without slackening over long years, before one can hear the heart-method and find a path to ascension.

Oral Formulas from the Lower Volume of the Female Golden Elixir

Gathering the Mind

The principles of the Golden Elixir are the deepest; one must apply the mind section by section in practice. If you ask where to begin at the entry, first sweep away wandering thoughts to gather the mind.

The great Way of the Golden Elixir is supremely sacred, supremely numinous, supremely mysterious, and supremely subtle; it has inner and outer aspects, beginning and end. The finest points must each be understood clearly before the path can be walked through. Without deliberate practice, one knows the inner but not the outer and ends in empty failure; one knows the beginning but not the end and attains only a small fruit.

First Step in Practice: “Gathering the Wandering Mind” Comes First

When you begin serious practice, the first priority is shou fang xin—gathering back the mind that has wandered outward. Mencius said: “There is no trick to learning; it is simply finding again the mind that was let go.” If the mind runs outward day after day, restless as a wild horse or mountain ape, never still for a moment, tangled daily in desire and private aims, then zhen xing (one’s original clear nature) is veiled by worldly things. Once bing yi (the inborn goodness) is off course, ye qi (the clarity that settles in the quiet of night) cannot be preserved; desires knot together—how then can one form a tai xian (the immortal embryo of inner refinement)?

So at the threshold one must first set down wan yuan (every tie to affairs and people)—not holding to a single thread, not stained by the slightest dust—and place the mind in wu he you zhi xiang (the realm of empty stillness where nothing is fixed). Clear, quiet, empty, and silent: with long, steady practice, the deluded mind naturally “dies.” When the mind dies, the spirit lives—only when the false mind rests can the primordial spirit (yuan shen) come alive. Though one may not become an immortal at once, the path of immortality is already near.

Nurturing Nature

A single muni (a pearl-like luminosity), clear as crystal—who would have thought dust and grime would hide its brilliance? Yet if one can sit in stillness and huiguang (turn the light of awareness inward), it is again like the bright moon of heaven’s heart in the night sky.

True Nature (the luminous mind originally complete in every person) is inherently clear and bright; it only appears dim because temperament, endowment, and attachment to worldly desires obscure it—but the essential luminosity has never been extinguished. If one diligently clears away distractions and nurtures it with care, it will again shine like the moon at the heart of heaven, illuminating all directions.

Method of nurturing: Sit in meditation daily. First release all external entanglements and practice huiguang fanzhao (turning awareness back from the outer world to look inward). In the mind, cultivate a mood like “the moon at heaven’s center, wind on the water’s surface”—easy, lively, seemingly there and yet not quite there; wu wang wu zhu (neither forgetting nor forcing). When affairs arise and things come, still put every concern aside and turn the light inward, keeping that state of mind. Though one should remain unmoved like thusness, one must also liaoliao changzhi (stay clearly and constantly aware); if even awareness is lost, one falls into the fault of dullness, like wood or stone.

When turning the light inward, always remain at ease. If you feel ill at ease, you have not yet accorded with the proper measure and should not force the practice further, lest Qi stagnate. The ancients said: “At first one must both release and gather; later, when skill matures, neither release nor gathering is needed.” When gathering and releasing are balanced, nurture this over time until suddenly you see the shihuo dianguang (a flash like stone striking fire)—a sign that True Nature is first appearing. From there, continued effort will one day bring full round brilliance. Yet the work of turning the light inward must not be prolonged. The ancients said: “Before obtaining the Great Elixir, do not turn the light inward for too long, lest the yin spirit emerge and one enters a demonic path.” Therefore, among the twelve hours of the day, only one hour is suitable for turning the light inward; the rest of the time live freely and at ease. Practice must never cease; when it is pure and mature, wisdom light will arise naturally, shining over the nine regions and penetrating what is to come. One must also know yet forget what one knows, forgetting until there is nothing left to forget, and thus enter the realm of transformation.

Nurturing Qi

Though one can fix the mind in the first dhyāna, only when the breath reaches harmonious fullness does one see Heaven.

There is no special trick to the method of nurturing Qi—walk together, sit together, sleep through the night together.

(The gist: even if one can abide in the first dhyāna and keep the mind from scattering, one must still regulate the breath until it is harmonious before the “Heaven” state appears; nurturing Qi has no other secret—it lies in constant shared practice with companions—walking, sitting, and sleeping together—so that Qi and pulse resonate and daily rhythms align to support cultivation.)

Buddhist teaching often says: in the first dhyana, the mind can settle in stillness and no thoughts of arising and ceasing stir within; in the second dhyana, the breath can settle so that respiration no longer shows the obvious in-and-out of ordinary breathing. When this kind of “breath” (xi) no longer moves wildly with the mouth and nose, the breath has settled and qi can truly be nourished. The breath spoken of here is not the in-and-out through nose and mouth, but rather the fetal breath that follows the mother’s breathing while one is still in the womb. After birth, when the caul breaks, this breath is stored in the ancestral aperture (zuxue—in internal alchemy, a pass related to the prenatal, often associated with the region between the eyebrows or the crown). It connects with breathing through the mouth and nose, yet ordinary people only let qi enter and leave through the mouth and nose and cannot gather the breath back to root in the ancestral aperture. A true person (one who has attained internal alchemy) roots every breath in the ancestral aperture. Hence Zhuangzi said: “The breath of ordinary people is in the throat; the breath of the true person is at the heels.” That is exactly this meaning.

To find the rooted breath of the true person, one must first harmonize the acquired breathing of mouth and nose, then from there locate the true breath rooting in the ancestral aperture. Once qi is stored and hidden in the ancestral aperture, it is “when the breath is regulated, qi is harmonious; when the breath rests, qi does not scatter.” The ancient immortals said “when qi returns to the primordial sea, life is boundless”—they meant this level. But the breath must be adjusted to chonghe (harmonious equilibrium: neither biased nor slanted, neither hurried nor sluggish, neither purely existent nor purely empty) before one can gather the medicine (ningjing caiyao—condensing and refining essence in neidan) and nurture the embryo (wuyang the prenatal single qi as one would nurture a fetus). Hence the saying “only in chonghe does Heaven appear.” Liu Changsheng also said: “In chonghe, Kan and Li unite” and “In chonghe, spirit and qi are nourished.” What is chonghe? Master Wu said: “Neither biased nor slanted, neither fast nor slow, neither being nor non-being.” How is it achieved? Master Wu also said: “Husband and wife walk side by side; yin and yang merge into one—by day they travel together neither ahead nor behind; by night they dwell together neither clinging nor parting.” Understood in this way, one grasps the samadhi of chonghe. Master Wu’s words are only a metaphor for mutual reliance of mind and breath (xinxixi): by day moving together without leading or lagging; by night sharing the same place without immediate union or distant separation. Zhongli Quan said: “When a person keeps mind and breath long in mutual reliance, the bodily form is exchanged and jade fluid flows.” Therefore, when mutual reliance of mind and breath is tuned to chonghe, the work of nourishing qi at this level is complete.

In verse, Shen (spirit) is likened to the husband and xi (breath) to the wife: the two must not go their separate ways or stand as far apart as cloud and mud. Only where they return to the root and work in concert can they climb the ladder of cultivation together.

In Neidan (internal alchemy), it is often said that Shen belongs to fire and xi to wind. Refining the elixir depends on wind feeding fire and fire refining Jing (essence); wind and fire are used together. Shen and xi must stay as close as husband and wife. That is why one concentrates Shen in the qixi (the “breath cavity,” usually the region of the Dantian (energy center)): use Shen to “embrace” Qi, and use intention to “tie” xi—neither clinging nor distant, neither forgetting nor forcing. That is true pairing and true union.

Zhu Yuanyu said: “If you seek the true seed of the pre-heaven, you must lay the foundation in chaos.” Chaos is the place of returning to the root and restoring life. Patriarch Haichan used “how many times the spirit-raven roosts in the cassia branch” as a figure for this; Patriarch Jingyang’s “the sun moves into the bright moon” is the same kind of image—Shen entering the qixi. Zhang Sanfeng said that in seated meditation Shen embraces Qi and intention holds xi; in the Dantian they turn gently, gather and do not scatter. Inner and outer Qi meet and bind in the Dantian, day by day filling until they reach the limbs and the hundred vessels, break through the paired passes at the spine, rise to the mud palace, enter the crimson palace, and descend the double tower. When Shen and Qi guard each other and each breath relies on the next, the path of the Heche (the “celestial carriage”—circulation along the microcosmic orbit) opens. When practice reaches this point, half of foundation building is already in hand—so Ningshen is indispensable whether one’s constitution is more Yin or more Yang.

The text then turns to “The woman’s life is originally threefold—purple, white, and yellow light are not like the man’s…” and related lines. These belong to women’s elixir methods on the three ming (three aspects of life), purple, white, and yellow light, and how they differ from men. They continue the same thread as above—guarding Shen and xi, running the Heche—while stating the life-pattern in terms suited to women rather than men.

Plain Explanation

Women also have three foundations of “life” (ming), though they differ from men’s and appear as three kinds of luminous qi: purple, white, and yellow.

In youth, transformation begins from the upper region; in decline, it shows from the middle. To attain a purely yang body, one must work from below upward—the entire sequence of passes and openings must be truly understood.

The three life-bases for women are purple, white, and yellow. Yellow light corresponds to the place in the Dantian where the elixir forms; white light to where the fetal origin coalesces; purple light to where the sea of blood generates blood. Above is the yang cavity; in the middle is the yellow chamber; below is the Dantian. In youth, when the heavenly dew (tiangui) has accumulated to the full measure of one jin, true origin in the Dantian is ample; when qi rises, the blood origin generates blood. At the peak of yang it turns to yin and becomes turbid menses flowing outward—so in the “young” phase change starts from above—the middle is the yellow chamber, the lower is the Dantian. In aging, heavenly dew is exhausted; qi can no longer rise to generate blood; when the waist dries and blood withers, menses cease—so in the “declining” phase it manifests from the middle. If one wishes to refine a qian body (pure yang), one must carry qi from the Dantian up to the upper yang cavity, steam it with spirit fire, until menses turn yellow, yellow turns white, and white returns to nothingness—then form hides of itself; hence “when complete, it is from below.” This path differs from men’s; without recognizing this pivot, the elixir cannot be achieved.

The Qi Cavity

The qi cavity has no other name: it is the place where the breasts sit—do not mistakenly take the area below the navel as the qi cavity.

If a person does not know where yin blood arises, how can the “poison dragon” (menses, the “red dragon”) be made to hide and stay still by itself?

The qi cavity is where the blood origin resides—that is, the breast region—one cun and three fen on the central line, not the breasts on either side. For men, life rests in the Dantian, so the lower field is the qi cavity; for women, life rests in the breasts, so the breasts are the qi cavity. When yang peaks and turns yin, yin blood flows outward from the qi cavity—therefore to “cut the red dragon” one must work from where yin is born; only with long persistence will form be concealed. To apply the man’s qi cavity (one cun and three fen below the navel) to a woman’s body is an error.

Knowing the Timing

“Knowing the timing” means grasping the right moments in women’s practice when vital qi, the menstrual cycle, and the fire phases (huohou) align.

Sustained cultivation

Practice must be kept up over a long time before the body gradually shows the hidden changes of successful refining the form (lianxing). If you take “the Qi aperture” to mean the spot one inch and three fen below the navel—as in the male body—you have misunderstood.

Knowing the right moment

When flowers open and the moon is bright, that is the juncture of “the he-goat about to butt the fence”—TianGui (Heavenly Water) is nearly due and the fire phase of the work is at hand.

The advice is: when faith/sincerity has arrived, begin at once; do not put it off until the Red Dragon has left the water (the menses have already started).

Xiantian Xuanwei says: Before a girl is born, at her parents’ union the father’s Jing (essence) arrives first and the mother’s blood follows; blood wraps essence and a female body is formed. At conception she first receives one liang of the mother’s Qian (lead) Qi, which forms in the right kidney, draws upward into threads to become the two eyes, and draws downward into threads to become the Golden Elixir (the inborn root). After that, on the twelfth day one zhu of Gui water (yin water) is produced; at one hundred eighty days one liang; thereafter every fifteen days one zhu, one liang per year, until at fourteen years there are fourteen liang, plus the one liang brought from the womb—together one jin (three hundred eighty-four zhu), matching the three hundred eighty-four degrees of the celestial circuit, three hundred eighty-four days in the year, and three hundred eighty-four lines in the Yijing hexagrams. When the count is full, yin reaches its limit and yang is born; Gui water is exhausted and Qian (lead) appears—at fourteen, TianGui descends.

After TianGui descends at fourteen, every twenty-six months and seven and a half days one liang of Gui water is spent, until at forty-nine it is used up. From er qi (the second seven-year period, age fourteen) the menses flow once a month, in step with the moon’s waning and waxing; the timing must not slip—if it does, illness follows. Thus every month “flowers open” and the flow comes on schedule; flowing means yang turning to yin, and when yin is strong one must not work recklessly. Chaotic practice at the wrong time has harmed many. Work must be done before the ram touches the fence, when xin (the signal) has truly arrived.

Shangyao Lingjing, “Sanming Pian”, says: “Monthly xin” does not mean the blood has already come. Xin is like a message that arrives before the person: when it arrives the person knows—perhaps sore waist and legs, dizziness, less appetite; the blood is not there yet, it is still Qi. For those two and a half days before the period one should apply the work single-mindedly. If flow has already begun, the Red Dragon’s yin Jing cannot be held; reckless work has killed not a few. Wait two and a half days after the period, test with white silk until the color is golden yellow—that is when the flow is truly finished. Then again use the earlier method to “cut” upward. All of this is teaching to cultivate only when you know the time—do not miss the window.

Slaying the Red Dragon

When yang qi is about to turn into yin and seeks to exit through the “Jade Channel” (the yin aperture), one must urgently drive the Xun wind and mount the fire wheel, sending them upward from the dantian to the Hongyuan Palace to slay it.

The Taiyin Refinement of the Form Method says: At the beginning of practice, close the eyes and preserve spirit; first rest deeply until mind is quiet and breath is regulated. Then fix attention on the qi cavity, cross the hands and cup the breasts, and gently knead and massage three hundred and sixty times. Again draw twenty-four subtle breaths from the dantian, still cupping the breasts and returning the light to regulate breath. After long practice, true breath comes and goes, opening and closing, nurturing the Yinge (the region of dantian and qi sea); spirit and qi become full, true yang flourishes on its own, menstrual flow ceases naturally, and the breasts shrink like a man’s—this is “slaying the Red Dragon.”

Practiced thus over time, one need no longer cup the breasts and draw breath; only fix attention on the qi cavity and return the light—this is “establishing the gate of the female.” True breath flows gently; reach utmost emptiness and deep stillness; yang qi steams and rises, the river chariot reverses its course, ten thousand purple clouds pay homage to the jade hall, a thousand channels and hundred meridians sow elixir in the mud ball—slaying the Red Dragon has such efficacy; therefore in women’s practice, slaying the Red Dragon is the essential gate.

Form Concealed

To kill without passing this demon spirit—seven times seven the cycle completes and life topples (meaning: if one does not slay the Red Dragon, the flow of menstrual water in weekly cycles drains life).

After refining until the lunar form is concealed, arrange celebration of long life in the Purple Palace—only after refining to Lunar Refinement of the Form and the bodily form hidden and transformed can one enjoy long life in the Purple Palace (the cerebral dantian).

Patriarch Xu (words attributed to a patriarch such as Xu Xun) said: “When a man completes cultivation without leaking essence, and a woman completes cultivation without leaking menses.” A woman’s menses is originally the starting point of giving birth to people; if you trust that one can “return menses to become qi,” then the breasts shrink like a man’s and menstrual blood no longer leaks on its own. A man refines essence into qi; the yin root shrinks like a child’s and essence no longer leaks. Only after no leaking can life be extended. If you do not cut off this “demoness” (here meaning lust, leakage, and the drain of menses—not worldly ghosts and monsters), by forty-nine years of age blood dries and menses ends, and there is no more vital force; when vital force is cut off, life topples.

Shangyao Lingjing · Sanming Pian says: “In a woman, blood is the kidney—it is an empty aperture. Past forty-nine, the waist dries and blood is exhausted; there is no vital force. Nourish it over time and blood origin is born again, like a maiden. This again is the wonder of producing something from nothing. When you see it and hold it, one cut and it transforms, and life is born.”

How to nourish so that blood origin is reborn? Nothing beyond gathering the heart and nurturing nature, nurturing qi and concentrating spirit. The Er Yuan Jun (Sun Buer) said: “Originally it begins in wuwei—who expected to fall behind Heaven; one sound just leaves the mouth and three inches already hold sway. Moreover disturbed by worldly toil, how can one bear being tangled in disease? When the child is plump it can benefit the mother—do not say it does not turn back.” There is supplementary practice as well, not lightly divulged—that is what Sun Buer meant by “bind the tiger and return it to the true cavity, lead the dragon and sever the benefit elixir.” When a woman cultivates to the point that menses does not leak, the later work on nature and life is largely the same as for a man; only few people use oral formulas to pierce the subtlety within.

Seeking the Elixir Pill

Work of refining form into qi and laying the foundation is not the same as the path of superior-grade celestial immortals. If you ask where the golden elixir ultimately lies, it must be in “the sun coming to reflect the moon”—sun and moon mutually shining, illuminating into Hongmeng (the qi mechanism at primal chaos), only then can the elixir coalesce.

When sun and moon mirror each other, their light can endure. Whoever grasps this principle is not far from the gate of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice.

In “refining the self” (lianyi), the “living dragon” and “living tiger” clash within the “lotus chamber”—a cultivation space such as the Dantian (energy center) or middle palace—and what one fears most is xinyuan yima: the mind scurrying like a monkey and the will bolting like a wild horse, never settling.

If refining the self has not yet reached a pure, rounded mastery, how could one truly pass the barriers and enter the Way, as when raising sail to cross the sea?

In Patriarch Lü’s Buchangong lyric there is the line: “In refining geng and jia, dragon and tiger must be brought forth.” Know that dragon and tiger here are not things outside the body, but images that arise when inner Qi (vital energy) moves and Yin-Yang contend. In practice, one must drive the “living tiger” toward the “living dragon” so Yin and Yang meet and unite—that is the correct path.