《悟真直指》Vol. 1

The art of cultivating the Dao is a study of the principles underlying all things, of exhausting the potential of human nature, and ultimately of reaching the source of life. Therefore, to exhaust one’s nature, one must first understand its principles; to reach the source of life, one must first understand the principles of life. Only by understanding these principles can one form true and precise knowledge, avoid being misled by false claims, and thereby fulfill one’s nature and realize one’s life. Otherwise, without investigating the principles, one cannot distinguish right from wrong or the orthodox from the deviant. One is easily led astray, becoming attached to emptiness or outward appearances. This is not genuine cultivation of the Dao, but a pursuit of what is false. Such learning only takes one farther from the Dao and, instead, jeopardizes one’s own nature and life. How, then, could it cultivate them?

This is precisely why Immortal Elder Ziyang (Zhang Boduan) wrote the Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality). The text probes principles that are subtle, hidden, far-reaching, and difficult to grasp. It draws analogies both from things in the world beyond oneself and from the human body, using many metaphors and symbols. Its original hope was that everyone might understand the truth and practice the orthodox Way. Unfortunately, some foolish and confused people in later generations, having failed to receive the true transmission, clung to its words and symbols and speculated recklessly according to their own opinions. Some claimed it taught “bedroom alchemy,” a practice based on sexual union between men and women; some thought it described the firing of Waidan (external alchemy); others suspected that it spoke only of empty stillness, while still others understood it as attachment to physical forms. All these interpretations deeply betray the Immortal Elder’s compassionate effort to save the world.

Those who wrote commentaries on the Wuzhen Pian in the past sometimes offered worthwhile insights, but they often explained symbols with other symbols and metaphors with other metaphors. Their language was obscure: they discussed the surface without pointing out the foundation, and failed to explain the principles clearly, leaving students bewildered and unable to grasp the text. This does not explain the Wuzhen Pian and help people understand it; it merely repeats what it says. Alas, the more commentaries there are, the more obscure the principles become; the more books there are, the more confused people become. The orthodox Way has steadily declined, while deviant teachings have flourished. Genuine cultivation has been buried, while false doctrines keep springing up and strange, outlandish theories appear one after another. Small wonder, then, that Confucian scholars regard Daoism as heterodox.

I have been fortunate to hear the teachings of the Daoist tradition and to learn that this book is a treasury of principles and methods for cultivating the Dao, and a ladder to realization. It sets out in detail the roots of nature and life, along with the stages and timing of cultivation. Yet for a long time it has been obscured by heterodox interpretations, like the sun hidden behind dark clouds, its light unable to shine forth. Though my learning is meager, I have had the good fortune to draw near to my teachers. I cannot bear to keep this true treasure hidden, and wish to study it together with those who share my aspirations. I have therefore named this book Wuzhen Zhizhi (Direct Guidance to Awakening to Reality). I do not presume to claim that I have attained the true Dao; I only hope, for the time being, to help restore it.

On the day of the full moon at Mid-Autumn in the year Jiaqing 4 of the Qing dynasty, the year jiwei, Liu Yiming, the Plain and Simple Wanderer Wuyuanzi of Qiyun Mountain, wrote this preface in his Abode of Ease.

How lamentable that the human body is so difficult to attain, while the years of a human life pass so easily. No one can know how long life will last, and who can escape karmic retribution—the consequences brought about by one’s actions? If we do not awaken early, but merely wait for life to end, a single mistaken thought at the moment of death may send us straight into the Three Evil Realms of Hell, Hungry Ghosts, and Animals. There we may endure vast kalpas, with little chance of escape. By then, regret will be too late.

For this reason, Buddhism and Daoism alike offer expedient methods through teachings on nature and life, instructing people in cultivation so they may transcend birth and death. Buddhism takes emptiness and stillness as its fundamental aim: if one suddenly awakens to the complete and all-pervading truth, one can cross directly beyond the sea of suffering and death and reach the other shore. But if habitual tendencies and afflictions have not yet been fully severed, one remains drawn into the cycle of birth and death. Daoism, by contrast, makes refinement and cultivation its essential practice: if one grasps the key to cultivation, one can quickly enter the ranks of the sages; if one has not yet understood one’s original nature, one remains bound by the illusory body.

The Book of Changes says, “Fathom principle, fulfill nature, and arrive at destiny”: this means probing the principles of things, fully understanding human nature, and thereby attaining insight into Heaven’s mandate. The Analects also speaks of “not presuming, not insisting, not being rigid, and not being self-centered”—that is, not relying on subjective conjecture, making dogmatic judgments, clinging to fixed views, or placing oneself at the center. These sayings, too, touch on Confucius’s inquiry into the mysteries of nature and life. Why, then, does Confucianism usually speak of these matters so briefly, without explaining them in detail? Because its main purpose is to order human relationships and promote worldly instruction through benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music. Confucianism does not openly expound the Dao of Wuwei; instead, it entrusts methods for cultivating destiny to the images and numbers of the Book of Changes, and weaves principles concerning nature into subtle, allusive teachings. Zhuangzi’s inquiry into freeing oneself from the burdens of external things and attaining the freedom of one’s nature, and Mencius’s teaching on skillfully nurturing the vast, flowing Qi, also come close to the essential meaning of the learning of nature and life.

Later, in the Han dynasty, Wei Boyang used the Book of Changes to explain the principles of Yin-Yang union and wrote the Cantong qi, clarifying the role of cultivating the Great Elixir, the central aim of Daoist Neidan. In the Tang dynasty, National Preceptor Zhong began his recorded sayings by discussing the words of Laozi and Zhuangzi and …

During the Eastern Han, Wei Boyang drew on the principle of Yin-Yang union in the Book of Changes and wrote the Cantong qi, explaining the function of the Great Elixir, the fundamental result sought through Neidan cultivation. In the Tang, National Master Zhong began his recorded sayings by recounting the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi, showing how the principles of the Supreme Dao extend from their roots to their finest details. Do these examples not show that, although the teachings are divided into three traditions, their underlying principles ultimately converge? Sadly, in later times the Buddhist, Daoist, and other schools drew clear boundaries, accusing one another. This obscured the essentials shared by the three traditions, led them into erroneous and deviant paths, and kept them from integrating their teachings and returning to unity.

Some people today believe the Daoist tradition emphasizes cultivating life, but they do not understand that methods of cultivating life fall into two kinds: some are easy to encounter but hard to bring to success, while others are hard to encounter but easy to bring to success. Refining the Qi of the five sprouts and taking in the radiance of the seven celestial bodies—drawing and refining the Qi of the Five Phases and the essences of the sun, moon, and five planets—along with visualization and massage, inhaling the clear and exhaling the turbid, reciting scriptures and holding incantations, sprinkling water and invoking talismans, tapping the teeth and gathering the spirit, abstaining from sex and food, visualizing spirits, holding the breath, directing intention between the eyebrows, replenishing the brain and restoring Jing, practicing sexual techniques, and taking and refining minerals, metals, and plants: all these belong to methods that are easy to encounter but hard to bring to success. Most cannot fully achieve the purpose of cultivating the body. So even after much effort, their results are hard to see. Even with concentrated, arduous practice day and night, at most one can ward off illness and prevent mishaps. Once the practice stops, its effects gradually fade. In this way, year after year, true success remains difficult. How hard it must be to succeed once and preserve the result for the long term, to regain youth, transform oneself, and ascend in flight! It is truly regrettable.

Practitioners in recent times often cling to these practices without grasping the true meaning of the wondrous method. Instead, they complain that the immortals’ teachings are false. They do not know that those who attain the Dao do so by refining the Golden Elixir through Neidan. To avoid revealing Heaven’s secrets, the ancients referred to it by many different names. Of these practices, breath retention alone, if one can set aside artifice and quiet one’s thoughts, resembles seated meditation in the Lesser Vehicle of Buddhism. With diligent practice, one can enter stillness and send out the spirit. But the spirit is Yin, and the body that houses it is difficult to keep stable for long; one therefore cannot escape repeatedly changing one’s dwelling. Without attaining the return of Metal and Mercury, the Neidan method symbolized by these substances, how could one restore the bones, exchange Yin for Yang, and ascend in flight by broad daylight?

The Refining of the Golden Elixir through the Return of the Elixir—an inner-alchemy term for cultivating Jing, Qi, and Shen until the “internal elixir” forms—is difficult to encounter. Yet once its essential principles are grasped, success comes readily. Practitioners must understand the transformations of Yin-Yang and deeply comprehend the workings of creation in Heaven and Earth. Only then can the two Qi of Yin and Yang meet along the Yellow Path, the route along which Yin and Yang circulate in inner-alchemy practice; the Three Natures—Jing, Qi, and Shen brought into union through cultivation—gather in the Primordial Palace, where the body’s original Qi converges; the Five Phases converge; and the Four Images are harmonized. Then the dragon roars and the tiger howls, husband and wife respond in accord. It is as though water boils in a jade cauldron and flames blaze in a golden furnace. At last, the Mysterious Pearl, a symbol of the internal elixir, takes shape, and the Qi of the Great One returns to its original state. All this takes only a moment, yet brings lasting, boundless bliss.

As for guarding against dangers and carefully regulating the drawing in and adding of Qi—the increase and decrease, or adjustment, of Yin and Yang Qi during cultivation—the key lies in nurturing upright Qi and keeping it full, while holding to the feminine and embracing the One: remaining gentle and still, with one’s focus undispersed. In this way, the Qi that arises from Yang naturally returns, while the cold, declining form of Yin fades away. When the cycle of cultivation is complete, one can shed the mortal body and undergo spiritual transformation, have one’s name entered in the registers of the immortals, and become a perfected person. This is the moment when a great man achieves success and distinction.

Some practitioners today take lead and mercury to be the two Qi of Yin and Yang, identify the internal organs with the Five Phases, divide the heart and kidneys into Kan and Li—the Water and Fire trigrams of the Bagua—regard the liver and lungs as dragon and tiger, treat Shen and Qi as mother and child, and take bodily fluids to be lead and mercury. They do not understand the ascent and descent, sinking and floating of Yin and Yang, nor can they distinguish the active and receptive roles in cultivation. This is like claiming another person’s property as one’s own, or calling someone of a different surname one’s biological son. How could they understand the subtle interplay of Metal and Wood in overcoming one another, or the mystery of Yin and Yang acting through one another? Their practice is like the sun and moon moving out of order, with lead and mercury each kept in a separate furnace. How could they hope to form the Elixir of Return?

From childhood, I sought the company of people devoted to the Dao. I read widely in the classics of the three teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—and also studied penal law, writing and arithmetic, medicine, divination, military strategy, geography and astronomy, and methods concerning good and ill fortune, life and death. But as for the Golden Elixir method, I read every kind of classic, along with the verses and treatises of various masters, and found only claims that the sun’s soul and the moon’s spirit, the Geng Tiger and Jia Dragon, quicksilver and cinnabar, white metal and black tin, and Li and Kan, male and female, could be refined into the Golden Liquid Elixir of Return. They never explained what True Lead and True Mercury actually are, or clearly set out the rules for the firing process and the essentials of nurturing the elixir.

Worse still, some deluded people in later generations have let their imaginations run wild, arbitrarily annotating the classics of the ancient sages and filling them with errors. This not only throws the immortals’ classics into confusion, but also misleads those who study the Dao in generations to come.

I have long lamented that I never met a true master or had the good fortune to hear the oral formulas for cultivation. Day after day, I was so troubled that I could neither sleep nor eat, and my spirit grew weary. Though I traveled everywhere seeking teachers and asking for guidance, and sought counsel from many people, no one could help me grasp the true purpose of cultivation or awaken insight in my heart.

Later, in the year Jiyou of the Xining era (1069), I accompanied Lord Lu, a Longtuge Academician, to Chengdu. My resolve to seek the Dao had never wavered, and my original sincerity had only grown stronger. At last, I received a response from a Perfected One and obtained oral formulas concerning the Golden Elixir, the medicines, and the firing times—the timing and stages of cultivation. These teachings were very concise, and their essential points were not complicated. They pointed from the nearby tributaries to the source; hearing a single phrase could bring understanding of many things. It was like clouds and mist clearing to reveal the bright sun, or dust being wiped away so that a mirror shone again. Compared with the immortal scriptures, these teachings matched them completely. I therefore marveled that although many people in the world study the way of the immortals, very few truly understand its essentials.

Now that I have received a true transmission, how could I remain silent and keep it hidden? So I wrote down everything I had learned and composed eighty-one regulated poems, giving the work the title Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality). Sixteen poems in seven-character quatrains represent the number “two times eight”; sixty-four short poems follow the number of hexagrams in the Zhouyi; and one five-character poem symbolizes Taiyi, the supreme and unified source. Later, I added twelve Xijiang Yue lyrics to correspond with the rhythms of the seasons. The work includes the hierarchy of the vessel, the proportions of the medicines, the advance and retreat of the firing times, the order of host and guest, and such matters as presence and absence, being and nonbeing, good and ill fortune, and regret.

Once the work was complete, I felt that it spoke chiefly of methods for preserving life and strengthening the body, and had not yet fully explored the source or the nature of awakening. I therefore studied Buddhist books and the Transmission of the Lamp, which records the events of Chan transmission. When I read the story of a patriarch who awakened upon hearing bamboo being struck, I composed thirty-two pieces—praises, poems, lyrics, and miscellaneous verses—and appended them to the end of the volume, hoping thereby to grasp the root and understand one’s original nature.

I hope that those who share my aspirations, when they read these words, will understand the root through its branches, abandon the false, and return to the true.

On New Year’s Day in the year Yimao of the Great Song Xining era (1075), written by Zhang Boduan, courtesy name Pingshu, of Tiantai.

Human beings are born because deluded passions give rise to the body. Once there is a body, there are troubles and anxieties; without a body, where could they come from? To be free of these troubles, it is best to realize the highest Dao (the Way). To realize the highest Dao, it is best to understand one’s original mind. The original mind is the Dao’s essential nature, while the Dao is the original mind’s functioning. When a person can look inward and awaken to their nature, the complete and luminous essence becomes manifest, and the functioning of Wuwei (non-action) comes naturally to fulfillment. Here, “Wuwei” means following what is natural and acting without contrivance. Without relying on deliberate practices of cultivation, one can suddenly transcend the anguish of life and death and reach the far shore of liberation.

Unless the mind is as clear and open as a bright mirror or a spirit pearl, how could all outward forms vanish at once, leaving no trace of defilement in the heart, freeing the source of the mind, and bringing certain knowledge that one has reached the state of non-birth? “Non-birth” means transcending the cycle of life and death. Those who clarify the mind and embody the Dao do not let the body burden their nature or external circumstances disturb their true self. How, then, could weapons wound them, tigers and other beasts harm them, or raging fires and floods give them cause for fear? Those who understand the Great Dao have a mind like a bright mirror: it reflects all things without clinging to or retaining them. They respond as things change, meeting each circumstance with calm and never rushing to take the lead. In this way, they engage with external things without being harmed by them. This is the unsurpassed, most perfect, subtle and wondrous Dao.

The Dao originally had no name; the sages only reluctantly called it “Dao.” The Dao could not originally be expressed in words, so the sages likewise explained it only by borrowing words as best they could. Yet if names and speech were to fall silent, people would have no way to know the Dao in its essence or to return to their original nature. Thus the sages established teachings and left words behind to make the Dao clear. Once the Dao has been revealed through words, people should then forget the words and experience the Dao to which they point.

Yet the principles of the Dao are exceedingly subtle and mysterious, while people are dull in their natural capacities. They cling to the body, fear death, and covet life, so in the end they find it difficult to grasp the Dao fully. Huangdi and Laozi took pity on people’s attachment to life. Following their wish to prolong their years, they taught methods of nourishing life and guided them step by step. The essential secret of nourishing life lies in the Golden Elixir (the state sought in Daoist Neidan cultivation, in which Jing, Qi, and Shen are refined and brought together); the essential secret of the Golden Elixir lies in the Spirit Water and Flower Pond (terms in Neidan for the transformations of Jing and Qi during cultivation). This is why the teachings of the Daodejing and the Yinfujing spread so widely in the world: people are, perhaps, all attached to life.

However, the language of these texts is obscure and their principles profound. Even those who study them often fail to understand their meaning, no matter how many times they recite them. Without instruction in oral formulas from someone who has truly understood the Dao, they may speculate over many possible interpretations, but in the end they will still struggle to achieve results in cultivation or bring their practice to completion. Is this not because learners are as numerous as hairs on an ox, while those who truly understand are as rare as qilin?

In the year Jiyou, one of the traditional cyclical year names, Bo Duan met his master in Chengdu, who passed the methods of the Elixir to him. Afterward, Bo Duan passed these methods on three times to unsuitable people, and each time disaster followed, coming to pass in less than twenty days.

Recently, Bo Duan recalled his master’s warning: “If, in the future, someone can untie your reins and remove your shackles, you should pass the methods of the Elixir on to him. You must not teach them to anyone else.” Later, Bo Duan wanted to have his name removed from the registers, but worried that the Daoist authorities would not believe him, so he wrote the Wuzhen pian, setting out the methods of the Elixir from beginning to end. As soon as the book appeared, many people came seeking instruction. Seeing how eager they were to learn, he could not bring himself to turn them away, and selected some to teach. Yet none had the great sense of responsibility to support others in times of danger, the open heart, kindness, discernment, and understanding of the Great Dao that were required.

When Bo Duan suffered disaster the first and second times, he still did not recognize the cause. Only after the third did he reflect on his earlier mistakes. He then understood that the method of the Great Elixir, though seemingly supremely simple and easy, could enable even the foolish and unlearned to transcend the ordinary and attain sagehood if they received and practiced it. For this very reason, Heaven cherishes and keeps the method secret, forbidding it to be passed lightly to unsuitable people.

Bo Duan had not followed his master’s warning and had repeatedly revealed Heaven’s secrets; in consequence, he himself had suffered punishment and disaster again and again. Heaven’s warnings had proved so swift and sure. How could he fail to feel fear and blame himself? From now on, he would keep silent. Even with a cauldron set before him or swords at his neck, he would never again dare speak of this method.

The Great Elixir, the medicines, the subtleties of the firing process, and the other essential teachings praised in the Wuzhen Pian have already been explained in full. A sincere seeker of the Dao who is naturally endowed with the capacity for immortal cultivation will understand their meaning upon reading them and grasp the import of the words. Why, then, would Bo Duan need to teach each point in person? Such understanding is bestowed by Heaven; it does not come from Bo Duan’s freely passing on the teachings.

The hymns at the end of the work concern the realization of one’s nature—that is, the “Way of Supreme, Wondrous Awakening” mentioned earlier. The Way of Wuwei (non-action) places helping sentient beings first; even if its secrets are revealed, no fault ultimately arises. Yet ordinary people differ in the depth of their karmic ties and in the acuity of their innate capacities. Even when they hear the same teaching, they understand it in different ways. Thus, the Dharma taught by Shakyamuni and Manjushri was originally the One Vehicle, the teaching that leads to ultimate awakening. But those who studied and listened understood it according to their own capacities, and so the distinctions of the Three Vehicles naturally arose.

If, in the future, someone of keen capacity reads this work, they will know that Bo Duan heard from Bodhidharma and the Sixth Patriarch the wondrous essence of the highest One Vehicle, and that a single phrase can enable one to understand the ten thousand teachings. If, despite this, he retains old habits and ultimately falls into lesser or middling views, that is not Bo Duan’s fault.

On the day Wuyin, in midsummer of the Wuwu year, the first year of the Yuanfeng era, Zhang Bairui, courtesy name Pingshu, wrote this preface again.

The Wuzhen pian uses sixteen seven-character regulated verses to express the meaning of “two eights.” “Two eights” means sixteen: according to the phases of the moon during a month, the waxing half-moon symbolizes eight ounces of “Metal within Water,” while the waning half-moon symbolizes eight ounces of “Water within Metal.” Together they make exactly one jin. Metal and Water are blended evenly, their light balanced and unbiased, reaching a state of central harmony. The alchemical method uses the waxing and waning moon to explain cultivation: the Yang contained within Yin is true Yang and is symbolized by the waxing half-moon; the Yin contained within Yang is true Yin and is symbolized by the waning half-moon. True Yin and true Yang harmonize with each other and ultimately become one. This is “two eights making one jin,” and it also symbolizes the accomplishment of the Golden Elixir. The sixteen verses express this very idea.

The first

If you do not seek the Great Dao to find your way out of delusion, how can you be called a great man, however worthy your talents? A hundred years pass in an instant, like sparks struck from flint; the whole course of one’s life is as fleeting and insubstantial as a water bubble. People devote themselves to craving official rank, salary, glory, and success, without noticing their faces and bodies gradually growing haggard and decayed. Tell me: can gold and silver piled high as mountains buy release from impermanence and escape from death?

The world is full of temptations of sights and sounds and the pursuit of fame and gain. People mistake suffering for pleasure and falsehood for truth, thereby depleting their Jing and Qi and harming their nature and life, until at last they approach death. Those who understand this and transcend it are called “Perfected Ones”; those who do not understand and remain immersed in it are lost.

Thus, the Perfected Ones who cultivated the Dao and attained immortality from ancient times were also filial to their parents and loving toward their brothers in youth, fulfilling their human duties well. By the age of forty, they practiced the Dao of keeping their minds steady against the influence of external things, preserving their innate nature and life. A hundred years pass in an instant, and the honors and humiliations of a lifetime are over in the blink of an eye. If one does not know how to return to the origin, restore the source, and go back to the root to renew one’s life—returning to life’s source and recovering one’s original nature—then when one’s lifespan ends, even gold piled as high as a mountain will be of no use; one can only leave the world empty-handed. The Immortal Elder said, “Tell me, if gold were piled as high as Mount Tai, could it buy you immortality?” His words are like the ringing of a golden bell and the beating of a ritual drum, enough to awaken everyone.

Part Two

Although people are said to live for a hundred years, no one can know in advance whether they will die young or live long, remain poor or rise to prominence. Someone who was riding through the streets yesterday may already be a corpse in a coffin today. After death, one’s wife and wealth no longer belong to oneself, but the karmic consequences of one’s deeds follow one along. How can one deceive oneself? If one does not seek the “Great Medicine”—the crucial path of cultivation in Daoist Neidan that serves as a metaphor for attaining long life—how could one ever encounter it? To know of it yet fail to cultivate it is truly foolish.

People struggle endlessly for fame and profit, busy day and night, imagining their lives will never end and that they can enjoy comfort and pleasure for a long time. They do not realize that no one can foresee how long a person will live, or whether their circumstances will go well or poorly, or bring gain or loss. Do not suppose that few people in this world live to a hundred. Even those who reach a hundred must eventually be buried in some desolate place. We often see people die suddenly—some even collapse and die while walking along a road or talking and laughing. Their number is beyond count.

Alas, while their eyes are open, people imagine that money, wives, and children all belong to them, and so they cling to them greedily. Once their eyes close, all things become empty; they can take nothing with them, leaving behind only their many sins, as though they had returned laden with them. Why not see through worldly affairs early and hurry to seek out a worthy master, asking for the “Great Medicine”—the essential method or substance in Neidan cultivation? To encounter the right opportunity and obtain the Great Medicine is a sign of great good fortune and deep spiritual roots. At that point, one must devote oneself to cultivation at once in order to transcend death and bring an end to impermanence, the inevitable passing of life. If someone has encountered the Great Medicine but refuses to cultivate with care, they are abandoning themselves and acting in folly. They are no different from those who cannot see through worldly affairs: in the end, they too will die. How, then, could they claim to have truly understood?

Third

Those who study to become immortals should aim to become Celestial Immortals, the highest order of immortals in Daoism. The most upright and dependable path is the Golden Elixir of Neidan cultivation. When Yin and Yang meet, feeling and nature unite; where the Five Phases are complete, the Dragon and Tiger—the symbols in Neidan of interacting forces such as Yin and Yang—coil together and merge.

Originally, Wu and Ji, the Earth stems used in Neidan to represent the forces that harmonize and bring things together, serve as matchmakers, joining husband and wife so that the two may remain in joyful union. Once cultivation is complete, one need only await an audience at the Northern Gate of the celestial palace, then ride a phoenix upward amid the radiance of the Ninefold Clouds.

The two poems above teach people to see through worldly affairs and quickly seek the “Great Medicine”—the key method for cultivating immortality—so they can escape birth and death. Escaping birth and death is the path to becoming an immortal.

There are several levels of immortality. Those who cultivate only the nature of the spirit and can move freely in and out of the body as a Yin spirit are called “ghost immortals.” Those who cultivate both nature and life and can preserve the physical body for a long time are called “earth immortals.” Those who perfect both nature and life, attain a body beyond the physical body, reach wondrous states of form and spirit, and unite with the Dao in truth are called “celestial immortals.”

Though ghost immortals can move freely in and out of the body as Yin spirits, the form they inhabit is unstable. They still face the trouble of leaving one body and taking another elsewhere. Though earth immortals can preserve the physical body for a long time, they find it difficult to escape the “Dharma body”—the form of body and mind achieved through cultivation—and remain burdened by the eventual abandonment of the illusory physical body. Ghost immortals fall on the side of “having death,” while earth immortals fall on the side of “having life.” Neither has truly transcended birth and death.

Only celestial immortals can shed the illusory physical body and attain the Dharma body, transcend the limits of transformation, and cease to be ruled by birth and death. They can escape birth and death, share the lifespan of Heaven, and endure without decay. Those who practice the Dao and wish to escape birth and death should cultivate the way of the celestial immortal. To begin this cultivation, they must practice the Great Way of the Golden Elixir—the highest method of Daoist internal alchemy.

“Gold” refers to what is firm and strong, something that cannot be destroyed; “elixir” refers to a state of complete unity, flowing freely without obstruction. Firm and indestructible, whole and unobstructed, these combine as one Qi, like the open, boundless sky: vast and seamless, unfathomable, able to contain all things, and beyond harm. Thus, one who succeeds in cultivating the Dao is called a “Heavenly Immortal.” Because such a being is imperishable, they are also called a “Golden Immortal”; because their appearing and disappearing are beyond measure, they are also called a “Spirit Immortal.” In fact, “Golden Immortal” and “Spirit Immortal” both refer to a Heavenly Immortal. To become a Heavenly Immortal, there is no method apart from the way of the Golden Elixir.

The Golden Elixir spoken of here is the innate knowing and capacity for goodness that each person receives from Heaven: a complete and flawless spiritual source, condensed from the primordial, supremely Yang Qi. It encompasses Yin-Yang and contains the Five Phases. It has Qi but no form or substance, and cannot be compared with the tangible, turbid things formed later in the physical body. When refined to maturity through Yin Talisman and Yang Fire—the regulation of Yin and Yang and the application of the firing process in Neidan cultivation—it can never decay. This is called the “Golden Liquid Great Return Elixir of Seven Returns and Nine Restorations.”

The Golden Elixir is another name for one’s original nature in its complete and undivided state; it is not a separate elixir existing outside that nature. Everyone possesses it, and everyone is complete from the beginning. It is not increased by occupying the place of a sage, nor diminished by living among ordinary people. It is the seed of becoming an immortal or a Buddha, and the foundation for becoming a sage. Yet without refinement through the firing process, Yang at its utmost will eventually turn to Yin, and what is complete at its utmost will eventually suffer loss, causing one to fall into the acquired state. As a person’s knowledge grows, selfish desires become mixed in; as temperament takes shape, innate goodness is obscured. Innate knowing and capacity for goodness change as well: they are no longer purely good and lose their original purity. For this reason, the sages of antiquity established the way of returning through the Golden Elixir, so that all people might return to the root, recognize their source, and recover what they already possessed from the beginning.

What does “returning and recovering” mean? “Returning” means that something that has already departed comes back; “recovering” means regaining something that has been lost. Human nature and the spiritual root become obscured because Yin-Yang falls out of harmony and the Five Phases injure one another. If Yin-Yang can be brought into unity and the Five Phases gathered together, their original, whole and perfect state can be restored.

The “two things” mentioned here are two complementary yet contrasting functions: one firm and one yielding, one active and strong and the other responsive and compliant. They are “true knowing” and “spiritual knowing,” as well as “true feeling” and “spiritual nature.” True knowing belongs to the Dao-heart and is associated with firmness and strength; when it manifests, it is true feeling. Spiritual knowing is concealed within the human heart and is associated with yielding and responsiveness; what it holds within is spiritual nature.

When true knowing and spiritual knowing are separated, neither firmness nor yielding can fulfill its proper role. The balance between them is lost, and true feeling and spiritual nature turn into deluded emotions and dispositions. When the two are united, firmness properly performs its function, and yielding properly performs its own, with both adjusting to circumstances. Deluded emotions and dispositions can then be transformed into true feeling and spiritual nature. The Immortal Master says, “When the two functions come together, feeling and nature become one. Could this principle be any clearer?”

The “Five Phases” referred to in the text are Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth.

The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) refer to five kinds of Qi. In the prenatal state, they manifest as original nature, original feeling, original essence, original spirit, and original Qi, together called the “Five Originals.” In the postnatal state, they appear as wandering soul, ghostly corporeal soul, yin essence, cognitive spirit, and deluded intent, together called the “Five Things.” The Five Originals possess the five virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness; the Five Things bear the five emotional states of joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, and desire.

When the Five Phases are complete, prenatal and postnatal forces are harmonized and brought together, with the Five Originals governing the Five Things. The dragon symbolizes yang Qi and the force of life, belongs to Wood in the east, and corresponds to nature within the human body. The tiger symbolizes yin Qi and the force of death, belongs to Metal in the west, and corresponds to feeling. When the Five Phases are out of balance, each departs from its own nature: the Five Originals turn into the Five Things, and the Five Virtues become the “Five Thieves” that harm people. With the dragon in the east and the tiger in the west, nature and feeling become confused and lost; Qi and nature act without restraint, desires and feelings run wild, and the yin force of death diminishes the yang force of growth. When the Five Phases are harmonized and complete, they return to a single nature: the Five Things become the Five Originals, and the Five Thieves turn into the Five Virtues. When the dragon coils and the tiger rests in its proper place, nature and feeling settle, revealing true feeling and nature; the yin force of death can then turn into the yang force of growth.

The key to cultivating the Golden Elixir, the aim and result of Neidan (internal alchemy), lies in harmonizing firmness and yielding, so that strength and gentleness suit one another and nature and feeling unite. When nature and feeling unite, Yin and Yang meet, and the Five Phases are complete, one can return to the undivided principle of Heaven: wholly good and free of evil, endowed with one’s original innate knowledge and ability. The Golden Elixir, too, is restored through this process. Once one’s prenatal nature has been lost, nature lies in the east and feeling in the west, and firmness and yielding no longer correspond. Without a force to harmonize them and carry communication between them, they remain cut off from one another and can never truly know each other.

What are called the “harmonizing substances” are Wu Earth and Ji Earth. Wu Earth is active and belongs to Yang; Ji Earth is still and belongs to Yin. What rests quietly without moving is Ji Earth; what responds when stirred and can communicate freely is Wu Earth. Among the five virtues corresponding to the Five Phases, Wu Earth and Ji Earth are separated from each other and cannot communicate.

When Wu Earth and Ji Earth are brought into harmony, this is called “true faith.” True faith resides within the heart and steadies one’s nature; true stillness, put into practice outwardly, brings one’s emotions to peace. Once nature is steady and emotions are peaceful, one’s temperament returns to its root, like a husband and wife joined in harmony. Benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and wisdom return to the virtue of “faith,” while temperament and spirit gather into a single Qi.

When “the three families meet,” the five Qi turn toward their source and return to the root; the Golden Elixir condenses. This is also called the “sacred embryo.” Cultivation must then continue, moving from practices that involve deliberate action into the realm of Wuwei (non-action). After ten months of nurturing, the sacred embryo is firmly sealed and protected. Excessive firmness is tempered, and insufficient softness is restored. Using the natural true fire, one follows the firing times of “Tun at dawn and Meng at dusk” to nurture and refine, gradually exhausting the Yin Qi acquired after birth.

What was originally formless now takes on substance, appearing gradually from what is subtle. When Qi is abundant and Shen complete, a peal like thunder sounds; it is as though the golden cicada sheds its shell, and one attains “a body beyond the body.” Once cultivation is complete, one can pay homage at the Northern Palace, ride a phoenix upward, and become a pure-Yang, deathless celestial immortal. What could be more exhilarating?

Alas, one’s original true nature is the Golden Elixir. The body’s four elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—serve as the furnace in which these are refined and joined into one. Those who understand this principle can swiftly rise to the realm of sages; those who lose their way sink for a long time. How could anyone aspiring to this path fail to cultivate with diligence?

This method of alchemical cultivation contains an exceedingly true and wondrous principle, because its essential workings differ from what ordinary people practice. Cultivators must understand that the sequence in which Yin and Yang unite may seem reversed, yet in truth it uses “Li” and “Kan”—trigrams symbolizing Yin and Yang, Water and Fire—to turn the workings of creation back upon themselves. Who can discern, amid rising and sinking, which is the host and which the guest?

To keep cinnabar Mercury—the elixir symbolized by mercury in cinnabar—in the Golden Cauldron, one must first guide water-born Silver, the substance symbolizing Yang within Yin, into the Jade Pool, a bodily site or inner landscape in cultivation. Directing the firing process—the measured pacing and regulation of cultivation—with wondrous methods cannot be accomplished in a day or two. When the practice has matured, a sun will appear in the depths of the abyss.

The preceding poem says that cultivating the Golden Elixir requires bringing nature and emotion into harmony and completing the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). Only then can the work succeed. Yet while the substances are easier to identify, the firing process is the hardest to master. Here, “firing process” refers to the stages and measured pacing of cultivation. Lü Zu (Lü Dongbin) said: “Those of high De (Virtue/Power) preserve their bodies through the Dao and maintain a state of pure, undiminished Yang. Those of low De rely on methods to prolong life, because the Yin and Yang symbolized by Kan and Li have already taken shape.” Thus, those of low De must use methods to gather and harmonize body and mind. Without them, it is difficult to return to the source and secure the foundations of nature and life, and so difficult to attain the Great Dao.

Thus the Immortal Master said: “This method is exceedingly true and wondrous; its essential workings differ from those of ordinary people.” “True” and “wondrous” mean that it is a method of utmost truth and subtlety. To attain the “true” is to accord with and set in motion the transformations of Yin and Yang, turn the changes of generation and destruction, and reverse the movement of Qi (vital energy). To attain the “wondrous” is to reach an obscurity so subtle that even spirits and ghosts cannot fathom it, nor can yarrow stalks and tortoise shells divine it. It acts ahead of Heaven’s timing without violating the Dao of Heaven; acting in accord with Heaven’s timing, it also fulfills that Dao. This is the path of cultivation by which sages are formed, beyond the reach of minor methods from side paths. The wonder of the true method lies precisely in “reversal”: it reverses Yin and Yang and proceeds against the familiar sequence of creation’s transformations.

Li and Kan, the trigrams in the Classic of Changes (Zhouyi) that represent fire and water, are Li as Fire and Kan as Water. The Li trigram is firm on the outside and yielding within; its inner yielding Yin is called true Yin. In the human body, this corresponds to the numinous awareness hidden in the human mind: its keen capacity for perception. When the human mind stirs, this numinous awareness disperses outward, like flames rising upward. The Kan trigram is dark on the outside and bright within; its inner bright Yang is called true Yang. In the human body, this is true knowing: clear and genuine perception, present in the Dao mind, the original heart aligned with the Dao. When the Dao mind grows dim, true knowing becomes hidden and fails to appear, like water flowing downward.

“Reversal” means bringing forth the Dao mind and settling the human mind. When the Dao mind emerges, true knowing becomes firm and vigorous, and the water of unified essence and Qi—pure and concentrated inner vital energy—rises. When the human mind is settled, numinous awareness becomes yielding and compliant, and the blazing, arid fire descends. As water rises and fire descends, they can mingle and harmonize.

Numinous awareness belongs to nature; nature belongs to Wood, whose yielding character makes it prone to float. The perceptions it expresses belong to emotion; emotion belongs to Metal, whose firm character makes it prone to sink. When numinous awareness floats above and takes the leading position, the genuine becomes mixed with the false. When true knowing sinks out of sight and occupies a secondary position, the false obscures the genuine. This is the ordinary course of things. To reverse the positions of host and guest, one must let the emotional aspect of true knowing take the leading position, causing what has sunk to rise; and let the nature of numinous awareness take the guest position, causing what has floated to descend. When host and guest exchange places in this way, Metal and Wood can unite.

When water and fire mingle and Metal and Wood unite, the Dao mind grows vigorous and the human mind becomes settled and compliant. True knowing and numinous awareness, once divided, come together; nature and emotion respond to one another; and the Golden Elixir, the attainment sought in Neidan cultivation, may condense. These subtle essentials are neither concrete forms nor mere empty talk. They require work in a place unknown to others and experienced only by oneself. This is why it is called “self-knowing,” and also “who can recognize it?” When others do not know, but one oneself understands the crucial secret, one has grasped the “secret mechanism of theft”—the hidden principle that accords with the workings of Heaven and Earth—which no one in the world can see or know.

The practice of this Dao has its sequence, and its degrees of urgency and ease. Without understanding the order and timing, even if one recognizes the “medicines” used in cultivation—a Neidan term for Jing, Qi, Shen, and other inner substances—one will find it difficult to put the method of reversal into practice or to settle the positions of host and guest. Therefore, the text continues: “The Golden Tripod would keep the mercury within the pearl; first, the Jade Pool must pour down the silver within the water.” The Golden Tripod and Jade Pool are bodily metaphors in Neidan cultivation. These lines emphasize that retaining the “mercury within the pearl” and using the “silver within the water” must follow an ordered sequence.

Gold is hard and strong, while jade is warm, smooth, and gentle. A cauldron is used to refine elixirs, and a pool to tend the fire. “The Golden Cauldron and Jade Pool” borrows the implements of elixir refinement as a metaphor for the path of cultivating the Dao, showing that cultivation rests on strength and gentleness.

The human mind belongs to the Li trigram. Li is rooted in the nature of Qian, so it is likened to a golden cauldron. It possesses the numinous awareness represented by the “Fire of Earth Two,” an innate capacity contained within Kun’s yielding gentleness. The human mind is originally empty, clear, and still, keenly aware and free from dullness. But when it mingles with the acquired knowing spirit—the mind that discriminates and deliberates—it uses its clarity to give rise to deluded thoughts. Perceiving the external world stirs worldly thoughts; it rises and falls with external things and can scarcely be still for even a moment. It is like mercury in cinnabar: at the touch of fire, it scatters and is difficult to keep. This is the state described in the Cantong qi: “The sun’s flowing pearl ever wishes to leave a person.”

The Dao mind belongs to the Kan trigram. Kan is rooted in the nature of Kun, so it is likened to a jade pool. Within it is concealed true knowing, represented by the “Water of Heaven One”: the innate, upright and firm conscience of the Kan palace. After people fall into the acquired condition, conditioning—the temperament formed through acquired habits—takes command, while vital integrity recedes. Yang sinks into Yin, truth is obscured by falsity, and people become immersed in desire. Their innate conscience grows dim, like silver in water, almost impossible to see.

Silver belongs to the class of Metal, so “silver in water” means Metal hidden in water. In the prenatal state, this Metal is the innate conscience of one’s nature; in the postnatal state, it is the true knowing of the Dao mind. Because true knowing is supremely firm and strong, it is called “true lead.” It is also the seed that forms the basis for cultivating the Dao and attaining immortality, and is therefore called the “true seed.” Since ancient times, sages have gathered and refined this great medicine to understand and fulfill nature and life.

The human mind naturally has the capacity to perceive and be aware, yet it is easily unsettled. If the true knowing of the Dao mind—the original mind in accord with the Great Dao—can be used to govern it, spiritual awareness will return to what is true and no longer wander in every direction. This is the state described in the Cantong (The Seal of the Unity of the Three, or Zhouyi Cantong Qi) as “suddenly obtaining the Golden Flower, and then depending on one another.”

The Rhapsody on the Yellow Crane says, “The seven cinnabars within Li cannot be kept for even a moment without the true seed.” The “seven kinds of cinnabar” refer to tears, saliva, Jing (essence), fluids, Qi (vital energy), blood, and humors. They cannot settle because the spiritual awareness of the human mind is unsettled; and that awareness is unsettled because the Dao mind has lost its mastery. To retain spiritual awareness, one must first establish the true knowing of the Dao mind. True knowing is like a genuine seed: once it establishes mastery within, it will not be confused by disordered Qi. The spiritual awareness of the human mind will then gather naturally and no longer dissipate.

The essentials of cultivation are to govern the human mind with the Dao mind, so that the human mind follows it; to direct spiritual awareness with true knowing, and then nourish true knowing with spiritual awareness. Hardness and softness should be balanced, while movement and stillness, advance and yielding, work together in harmony; then nature and disposition can be brought into accord. In less than half an hour, they condense into a round, luminous jewel, whose bright spiritual radiance shines out and prevents all manner of Yin and malign Qi from doing harm. Hence it is said: “Apply the divine art to refine the fire; not even a full day is needed. In the deep pool, a sun appears.”

“Spirit-guided practice” refers to the mind and spirit working in secret: the discipline of being careful and self-possessed when alone. “Fire” refers to true awareness, luminous awareness, and a calm energy in which firmness and gentleness are joined. “Tending the fire” means remaining watchful even over what you cannot see in yourself, and alert even to what you cannot hear. It is to use this true, luminous awareness to balance firmness with gentleness, allowing not the slightest impurity to linger in the mind.

This practice of tending the fire through the intent of the spirit takes effect swiftly, like a shadow appearing as soon as a pole is raised, or an echo answering at once when one calls into a valley. If you resolve firmly to do it, you need not wait a whole day to turn Yin back into Yang: it is like sunlight rising over a deep pool, and the Yin energy naturally receding. The poem’s most crucial words are “wishing to retain” and “first set in motion,” which convey the idea of acting first and taking the initiative. Once you grasp this, reversing Yin and Yang and harmonizing the Four Images—the Yin and Yang energies paired with one another—becomes as easy as turning your hand. This also serves as a symbol of Waidan (external alchemy). Waidan is also called the Returning Elixir: what has departed comes back, what has been lost is regained, and what is outside returns to the body. After this return, it is called Neidan (internal alchemy). This is the distinction between Neidan and Waidan.

Fifth

The tiger leaps and the dragon soars; wind and waves surge. In the central position, the Mysterious Pearl—symbolizing the elixir or the essence gained through cultivation—is born.

Fruit grows on a branch and will eventually ripen. A seed is hidden in the belly; how does it differ from the fruit on the branch?

The lineages of the Northern and Southern schools turn the trigrams, using their images to explain changes in Yin and Yang. The timing and stages of cultivation, morning and evening, must accord with the celestial pivot.

Know this: one who is truly a recluse may live among the bustle of the marketplace. Why insist on dwelling in the deep mountains, cultivating in solitude and stillness?

The previous poem discussed the “Returning Elixir”; this one explains the “Way of the Great Elixir.” The Great Elixir is achieved through practice completed at a critical moment. The phrase “one moment” refers to a time in harmony with the virtue of Heaven and Earth, the radiance of the sun and moon, and the turning of the four seasons; it also bears on changes in fortune and misfortune. This moment is rare and easily missed. The slightest lapse may cause the “primordial Qi of original oneness”—the original Qi present from the beginning, formed through the union of Yin and Yang—to be lost. This Qi of original oneness is the Returning Elixir itself; there is no separate Qi of original oneness apart from it.

When the Returning Elixir is attained, the Dao-heart is firm and strong, while the human heart is supple and compliant. True knowing and numinous knowing merge into a single, rounded radiance. This is the innate knowing and capacity present at birth: still and unmoving in quiet, yet responsive and able to communicate when stirred. It is one’s original face. Because its nature is firm and strong, it is called “True Lead”; because its force is vigorous, it is also called the “Mighty Tiger.” True Lead and the Mighty Tiger both refer to the same vast, upright Qi: the innate nature, perfectly good and without evil, endowed in everyone.

Once this innate nature has been recovered, it must return to the state before one’s parents gave birth to one, where the Five Phases have not yet intervened. Only then can one attain an innate nature that endures and cannot be ruined. After it has returned, it must be gently nurtured and carefully sealed away, until mind and spirit become utterly empty and still. When Yang Qi has become abundant, stillness reaches its limit and turns into movement; then the wondrous sprout appears. This is the moment Lü Dongbin described as “the night watch stretches long; the Lead Cauldron glows warmly, its light shining through the curtains.”

At this point, Yang radiance emerges from its hiding place with the force of a Mighty Tiger bursting from its den, powerful and difficult to restrain. One must immediately meet it with a point of numinous, empty fire within one’s true nature. This numinous fire is called the “Female Dragon.” The leaping Tiger and soaring Dragon depict the coming together and gathering of Yin and Yang Qi. When the Tiger leaves its den, wind rises; when the Dragon leaves its pool, waves surge. These images symbolize Yin and Yang contending with one another. The Dragon and Tiger meet, their natures respond to one another, and at last they unite as one and return to the center.

Primordial Qi comes from emptiness and condenses into a pearl the size of a millet grain; the embryo of the sage thereby takes shape. The “embryo of the sage” is the “Valley Spirit.” The Valley Spirit is the spirit born when the “Mysterious Female”—the root of the union of Yin and Yang—comes together. The Yang “Mysterious” is like the Tiger’s nature, while the Yin “Female” is like the Dragon’s. When their natures unite, the embryo of the sage forms, the Primordial Female is established, and the Valley Spirit is born. At this stage, active cultivation is complete and the practice of Wuwei begins to emerge. There is no need for deliberate effort; one need only follow the natural course, like fruit growing on a branch until it ripens, or a child in the womb who will in time be born.

After the embryo of the sage has formed, Wuwei becomes the primary practice, but one must still guard against danger and protect it with care. The phrase “the sources of the Southern and Northern schools turn and seal the image” means that the South corresponds to Fire and the North to Water. Once the embryo has formed, harmonious Qi steams through it, and Water and Fire return to their roots and naturally refine one another. One must let this happen on its own, neither forgetting the practice nor deliberately pushing it forward. The phrase “at dawn and dusk, the firing times align with Heaven’s pivot” means that Yang Qi governs at dawn and Yin Qi at dusk. One should follow the movement of Yin and Yang Qi, using Yang at Yang times and Yin at Yin times, so that the advances and withdrawals of cultivation silently accord with the changes between day and night, while remaining diligent and alert.

By gently nurturing the embryo for ten months with neither neglect nor forced assistance, one can shed the acquired trigrams—the symbols of later Yin-Yang changes—and cast off the primordial Dharma-body, reaching the state expressed as “my destiny rests with me, not with Heaven.” This cultivation takes place among ordinary people and is practiced in the midst of worldly life. It requires genuine application and solid effort; it is not empty talk about Wuwei or a pursuit of extinction. Thus it is said: “Know that the great recluse lives in the dusty marketplace; why must one retreat to the deep mountains and guard one’s solitude?” True hidden cultivation can be practiced amid the bustle of the world; there is no need to withdraw into the mountains and remain alone in quiet.

Everyone already possesses within themselves the “medicine” that can make life endure, yet those who have lost their way cast it aside in vain. When sweet dew descends, Heaven and Earth unite; where the yellow sprouts grow, Kan and Li meet. “Kan” and “Li” are terms in Neidan (internal alchemy): they symbolize water and fire, and also refer to the Yin-Yang that must be brought into harmony through cultivation. A frog at the bottom of a well might think there is no Dragon Palace in the world; how could a bird by the hedge know that a phoenix has a nest? Once Neidan has been refined, it is naturally like a house filled with gold. Why go searching everywhere for herbs to burn and refine external substances?

The three poems before this one have already explained in detail the ingredients and timing of the fire for returning the elixir and refining the Great Elixir. The author worries that those who cultivate the Dao may mistakenly believe the Golden Elixir is made by burning and refining ordinary substances, so he writes this poem to remind them.

The Golden Elixir is the innate nature of good knowing and good ability that everyone possesses. This nature is complete in everyone: it is no greater in a sage and no lesser in an ordinary person. There is no need to seek it outside oneself; it is already within. If one applies oneself with sincerity, one can reach the realm of the sages directly, bringing one’s nature to stillness and making life firm and stable, enduring without decay. The nature of good knowing and good ability is precisely the “great medicine” that makes life everlasting. Those who have lost their way do not investigate the true principles taught by the sages, nor do they seek the roots of nature and life. They abandon what is true for what is false, seek far away while leaving what is near, and waste their lives, reaching old age with nothing accomplished. They have cast aside the precious treasure they already possessed—how lamentable and tragic.

A person’s good knowing is received from Heaven as the virtue of vigorous action, and therefore possesses the nature of Heaven from the start. A person’s good ability is received from Earth as the virtue of receptive yielding, and therefore possesses the nature of Earth from the start. Is this not cause for sighing and sorrow?

Human beings are endowed by nature with the virtue of firmness and strength. Because it is received from Heaven, it is called “Heaven.” They are also endowed with the virtue of gentleness and compliance. Because it is received from Earth, it is called “Earth.” Within each person there is an originally clear, subtle, and numinous Shen (spirit), which never grows dark or confused. This spiritual nature arises through the transformation of Earth’s Qi (vital energy) and is symbolized by “Fire.” Each person also has an originally pure and unmixed Jing (essence), a true feeling that arises through the transformation of Heaven’s primordial Qi and is symbolized by “Water.”

When a person brings firmness and gentleness into harmony, the Heaven and Earth within the body can unite, as though sweet dew were sprinkling the heart and dispelling its troubles. When a person avoids depleting the spirit, Kan and Li within the body—the symbols of Water and Fire—can join, as though yellow sprouts were naturally emerging and primordial Qi were being restored. The descent of sweet dew means that the mind is clear; the emergence of yellow sprouts means that thoughts are still.

When the mind is clear and thoughts are still, innate knowledge and ability come to light. The numinous, clear true nature hangs in emptiness, silent and free of reckless movement, yet able to respond to what it encounters and reach understanding. It is always responsive to things while remaining tranquil; it is neither altered by the workings of creation nor overcome by the myriad things. This is the meaning of the saying, “My destiny is in my own hands, not in Heaven’s.” The Way of long life lies here.

How could a frog at the bottom of a well know of the deep cavern where a dragon dwells? How could a quail within a hedge know that there are nests of phoenixes? Hearing talk of “medicinals” and “fire times,” some people suspect that these refer to strange arts of refining herbs and plants, capable of all sorts of bizarre feats. They do not understand that when the Great Elixir—the elixir formed through Neidan (internal alchemy)—is successfully completed, it is like a hall filled with gold and jade: it can preserve life and the body, and its blessings are beyond measure. What is there to cherish in the coarse, turbid, and tangible things of the world?

Seven

To understand the source from which the elixir’s ingredients—the Jing and Qi used in Neidan—arise, one need only seek one’s native place in the southwest. When Lead Qi encounters Gui Water, a term associated with Kidney Water and Yin Qi, and begins to sprout, it should be gathered and refined in good time. When Metal Qi reaches the period after the full moon, it should no longer be gathered. Place the gathered ingredients in the earthen crucible, a symbol of the furnace and vessel for refining the elixir within the body, and seal it tightly. Then introduce the flowing pearl, a symbol of mercury, and combine it with them. When the quantity of the ingredients reaches one catty, allot them according to the ratio of “two and eight.” Adjust the fire times in accordance with the changes of Yin-Yang.

The preceding poem says that everyone possesses the medicine of long life. This poem goes on to explain where and when the ingredients arise. Its meaning is to remind those who study the Dao to practice at every opportunity and to handle the fire times with care.

“Southwest” refers to the Kun position. It symbolizes the moon reappearing after reaching the deepest darkness, and also the first stirrings of Yang after Yin has reached its extreme. For a practitioner, this corresponds to the first impulse that arises after the mind has become utterly still—that is, the moment the “great medicine” appears, a metaphor in Neidan cultivation for primordial, fundamental Qi or vitality.

The “movement” described here is neither an external stir of desire nor a jumble of thoughts within the mind. It is the activity that naturally comes to light in perfect stillness: the original clarity and awareness of the Heavenly Mind, also called the Dao Mind’s true knowing, or the authentic awareness that accords with one’s original nature.

This awareness is called “medicine” because it can enable a person to transcend the ordinary and attain sagehood, and to return from death to life. It shows its first signs when all entanglements have ceased and the mind is utterly still, so this state is likened to the place where the medicine is produced. It is also like a patch of white appearing in darkness: it comes from nothingness and arises from stillness, as a river flows from its source. For this reason, it is also called the “source-stream” from which the medicine arises.

In the precelestial state, this medicine is the Heavenly Mind’s original awareness. In the postcelestial state, it appears as the Dao Mind’s true knowing. The Dao Mind is the true Heavenly Mind reflected within the postcelestial state, and true knowing is a reflection of original awareness. Once the Heavenly Mind has become submerged in the postcelestial state, it cannot appear at all times; when it occasionally shows itself, it is called the Dao Mind. When original awareness sinks into desire, its light is obscured; when it nevertheless appears from time to time, it is called true knowing. Through cultivation and return, the Dao Mind reverts to the Heavenly Mind, and true knowing reverts to original awareness. The awareness that occasionally appears at this point is precisely the source of the Dao Mind’s true knowing.

Because a trace of the precelestial, true unity’s vitality remains in this state of occasional yet undimmed awareness, the practitioner can begin with that vitality, reverse the postcelestial condition, and gradually return from the Dao Mind’s true knowing to the Heavenly Mind’s original awareness. The key is to recognize the movement that arises after utter stillness, and the “source-stream” from which that movement emerges.

Laozi says, “Attain utmost emptiness; maintain profound stillness. As the myriad things arise together, I observe their return.” The Yijing says, “The Way turns back and returns; after seven days comes return.” Both passages point to the source from which the Dao Mind’s true knowing arises.

Since we know that the medicine—the inner essence spoken of in cultivation—arises from the River’s Source, we must also understand when to begin. The subtle efficacy of refining the Elixir lies in taking the Dao-heart, the original mind aligned with the Great Dao, clear and upright, as the mother of the Elixir: that is, as the foundation of alchemical practice. The Dao-heart is firm and strong, and possesses true knowing; it is therefore the source from which the medicine arises.

The true knowing within the Dao-heart is symbolized by true lead. Lead is black on the outside and white within, just like the Dao-heart’s true knowing: from the outside it seems obscure and hard to discern, yet within it is lucid and clear. For this reason, the Immortals and perfected beings often compared the Dao-heart’s true knowing to true lead. The ancients did not speak plainly about this meaning because they treasured it deeply and feared it might be stolen by the wrong people.

The Dao-heart’s true knowing has long been obscured and submerged by desire, and cannot easily reveal itself on its own. Once its source is understood, it can gradually be gathered and recovered. To restore true knowing, one must still seek it amid desire. True knowing belongs to Ren Water, born of the One of Heaven: it is pure and clear, Yang Water. Desire belongs to Gui Water, born of the Six of Earth: it is mixed and murky, stagnant and heavy, Yin Water. Ren Water is hidden within Gui Water. This does not mean that Ren Water is produced by Gui Water; rather, while Gui Water has not yet appeared, true lead is also difficult to reveal.

The phrase “lead meets Gui and is born” refers to the moment when Yin and Yang Qi join, just as Gui Water begins to appear but has not yet taken the lead. At this moment, Ren Water has not dispersed, and true knowing has not yet grown dim. It should be gathered in time and collected in the Suspended Womb Cauldron, the place symbolizing the preservation and nurturing of Jing and Qi in internal alchemy. In this way, desire has no opportunity to act and will fade away of its own accord. Zhang Sanfeng’s words, “You must pluck its blossoms, fresh and blooming, from beyond the wall,” express the same idea.

“Gold meets the period after the full moon” refers to the moon’s passage beyond the fifteenth day, when it begins to wane after reaching fullness. After recovering true knowing, the cultivator uses the genuine feeling within that knowing to make it grow continually, until it reaches a state of strength, balance, and purity. This is like refining white metal from lead until it shines brightly. At this point, innate moral discernment and natural capacity for good action are clear and manifest, no longer obscured. Whether advancing, withdrawing, or responding to things, one moves with the circumstances and acts freely. Every step accords with the Dao, as though the bright moon hung in the sky, illuminating the three thousand great thousand worlds—a Buddhist and Daoist expression for the boundless expanse of the universe—and making even the darkest places accessible. At this point, no further effort needs to be added. One can relinquish deliberate action and enter the state of Wuwei (non-action).

If one does not understand how to regulate the firing time—the timing and degree of cultivation—and pursues fullness without knowing when to stop, it is like the moon waning after it reaches fullness: when brightness reaches its extreme, it turns to darkness. Yin arises within Yang, true knowing is damaged, and one’s genuine nature grows dim; false things then take advantage of the opening. In the end, only the mixed and murky substance acquired after birth remains, and it is no longer worth gathering.

When true knowing has returned to fullness, quickly send it into the central earthen crucible, which symbolizes the central place within the body where cultivation and refinement take place. Seal it firmly so that not the slightest trace of Jing and Qi can escape. Then join it with a single bead of empty awareness in one’s own nature—the clear, numinous, still and empty true nature. Use Yin to regulate Yang, and stillness and emptiness to nurture and enrich what is substantial, while carefully guarding against danger. The aim is for firmness and softness to become one and for Yin and Yang to balance each other. “When the numbers two and eight are complete” means that the Qi of Yin and Yang has been harmonized and brought to fullness, with neither excess nor deficiency. Refinement must then continue until all mineral impurity is gone and the nature of gold is pure, without a trace of acquired conditioning. Only then is the work complete.

Bringing the numbers two and eight to completion depends entirely on properly regulating the firing process: knowing how to judge timing and advance or withdraw during cultivation and refinement. One must distinguish between an intense and a gentle firing, know when to stop and when the work is complete, discern good fortune from misfortune, and control the pace. Advance Yang when it is time to advance Yang; circulate Yin when it is time to circulate Yin, so that neither is harmed and each remains whole. In this way, the primordial Qi of the One—the original Qi that precedes birth—will arise from the Void, gather without dispersing, and coalesce into the sacred embryo, the form that symbolizes the achievement of Neidan cultivation.

Regulating the firing process means allowing the changes of firmness and softness to move continually toward balance. When the medicine—the Jing and Qi being refined in Neidan—reaches the measure of one catty, firmness and softness return together to the center, and Yin and Yang are in equal measure. Yin contains Yang, and Yang contains Yin; Yin and Yang merge, and firmness and softness are completely transformed. At this point, there is stillness and Wuwei, yet responsiveness allows communication. One can respond and communicate while remaining still and unmoving; thus one becomes something enduring and imperishable.

The secret of the full moon must be understood through oral instructions; the mystery of the arrival of the Zi hour, the hour of midnight, lies in transmission from teacher to disciple. The medicine itself is difficult to recognize, and the firing process is not easy to understand. How, then, could a student of the Way fail to seek a true teacher at once? This poem contains the subtleties of the medicine and the firing process, as well as the wondrous functions of returning the Elixir and the Great Elixir. Of the sixteen poems, it is especially important. Readers should investigate it carefully and not pass over a single word lightly. If they gain some insight, they should seek confirmation from an enlightened master; perhaps a single sentence will then open many methods to them.

Eight:

There is no need to refine the so-called Three Yellows and Four Spirits. Turning instead to various medicinal herbs and plants is also not the right path. Only when Yin and Yang are of the same kind and joined together can they respond to one another. When Yin and Yang each attain their proper measure and follow from and join with one another, they can then…

Do not set out to refine the Three Yellows or the Four Spirits, or search for various herbs; none of these are true medicines. The “Three Yellows” here means sulfur, realgar, and orpiment; the “Four Spirits” means cinnabar, mercury, lead, and saltpeter. These minerals and herbs are not of the same kind as the Qi within the human body, so they cannot sustain life or bring one to realization of one’s nature. If you cannot cultivate life and nature together, your efforts are futile and do not constitute the true Dao.

The Cantong qi says, “With things of the same kind, it is easy to make progress; with things of different kinds, results are hard to achieve.” Human beings arise from the Yin and Yang Qi of Heaven and Earth, and the body, too, contains Yin and Yang Qi and their corresponding De. Yang is firm and active, and governs life; Yin is yielding and receptive, and governs nature. Yin and Yang are the roots of nature and life. “Of the same kind” means Yang matched with Yin, and Yin matched with Yang. When Yin and Yang meet in harmony, it is like firmness answering softness, or like spouses reunited after a long separation: they naturally respond to one another.

“Two eights” refers to the true Yang and true Yin present within each of Yin and Yang: true Yang lies within Yin, firm and upright; true Yin lies within Yang, yielding and upright. Firmness and softness both return to what is centered and correct. Yin and Yang correspond to one another without bias or excess, and naturally unite and draw close, gathering into a single, undivided Qi that no longer disperses.

When the red sun rises from the bottom of the pool, the baleful Yin Qi dissipates; when the bright moon shines at the mountain peak, the sprouts of the medicine begin to grow. The sun, moon, and medicinal sprouts here evoke the mutual interaction of Yin and Yang and the formation of the medicines of Neidan (internal alchemy). To recognize true lead and mercury, do not mistake them for the cinnabar and mercury of the ordinary world. The poem’s “true lead” and “true mercury” refer to the complementary true Yin and Yang Qi used in cultivation.

Yin and Yang must be joined in their proper kinds and proportion. Within the acquired state, a person returns to innate nature: the Dao-heart, aligned with the Great Dao, is strong and firm; the ordinary human mind is gentle, yielding, and centered. Both firmness and gentleness return to balance. Yin and Yang are even, neither one-sided nor excessive, and so naturally unite and draw close, condensing into a whole and undivided True Qi that no longer dissipates.

When Yin and Yang are joined in the right proportion, one can return from the acquired state to the innate. The Dao-heart is strong and firm, while the human mind is gentle and yielding; true knowing and numinous knowing—the inner awareness of what is real and the wisdom of spiritual clarity—come together. The innate capacity to know what is good and to act on it, like a numinous root, emerges from thought falling silent, from emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action). It is like a red sun rising from the bottom of a deep pool: dark and uncanny things vanish of their own accord. It is also like a crescent moon hanging high over a mountain peak, bringing new life to the medicinal seedling produced by cultivation. This means that when vital integrity arises, deviant influences naturally recede; when what is real is restored, what is false disappears.

The red sun at the bottom of the pool and the white moon above the mountain both describe the appearance of True Yang and the renewed clarity of the Heavenly Heart, one’s originally clear nature of mind. When the Heavenly Heart is clear again, perception and ability return to purity. This is called the Golden Elixir. Here, the Golden Elixir is a treasure already present within oneself: True Yin and True Yang, brought together through the balance of firmness and gentleness. It is the foundation for cultivating the mind and nature and recognizing the source of life. How could it be something refined from ordinary cinnabar and mercury?

Ninth

The Yin essence contained within Yang is not firm in its nature. Cultivating only one thing instead weakens and diminishes a person. Exhausting the body with Daoyin exercises such as pressing and stretching does not follow the Great Dao. Breath cultivation and “dining on rosy clouds”—using breathing practices or visualizing clouds as methods of cultivation—can also descend into delusion. People in the world pursue the refining and subduing of lead and mercury in vain. When will they truly witness the symbolic union and descent of the Dragon and Tiger, the joining of the two Qi?

I urge you to search deeply into the beginning of life, return to the root and restore the original state. This is the highest medicine.

The Golden Elixir’s medicinal substances mentioned above are not the Three Yellows, Four Spirits, herbs, or other materials found outside the body. Thus, the work of cultivating the Dao must ultimately be done within oneself. Yet after a person’s innate True Yang has been lost, what remains in the body is only “Yin essence within Yang.” Yin essence here does not refer only to semen produced through sexual intercourse. Tears, saliva, bodily fluids, blood, and breath also belong to Yin essence. These are inherently weak: they exist only while the body exists, and perish when the body perishes. Their presence or absence depends on this illusory fleshly body.

If one cultivates only this Yin essence, hoping thereby to preserve life and the body, one will instead grow weaker day by day and ultimately find success elusive. The methods practiced by those in the world who exhaust the body and pursue outward appearances, or who cultivate through breathing Qi or consuming rosy mists, along with the methods of various schools, either refine Yin essence or replenish it. These practices are separated from the Dao; the longer one pursues them, the farther one strays from it. How, then, could they subdue the true Lead and Mercury, symbols of Yin-Yang Qi in cultivation, and bring them together as one Qi? How could they command the True Dragon and True Tiger, symbols of the two Yin-Yang forces, and unite them as one?

The way of the Golden Elixir is the fundamental way by which life comes into being. The way life comes into being is the principle by which Yin and Yang separate and reunite, ultimately returning to unity. Where Yin and Yang unite, there is vitality. Ordinary people receive the fleshly body through their parents; becoming an immortal means attaining the true body through the “Numinous Father and Sacred Mother.” The Numinous Father refers to firm and strong true knowing; the Sacred Mother refers to yielding and receptive numinous knowing. Both human birth and the becoming of an immortal depend on Yin and Yang. The difference between ordinary people and sages lies in their paths: one follows the ordinary course, while the other reverses it.

If a person can investigate deeply how life comes into being and fully understand how parents meet and unite, how conception occurs, and how the embryo is nourished until it matures, is born, suckled, begins to walk, and grows, then the entire process of Daoist cultivation will become clear from beginning to end. One can then firmly return to the root and restore the origin, revive what has died, preserve life and the body, and become a “Great Medicine King”—one who uses the way of the Golden Elixir to save and protect body and mind. The Great Way of cultivating the True is, in the end, simply the principle by which life comes into being; there is no other method. How could those who pursue partial methods—cultivating Yin or Yang alone, clinging to empty appearances, or refining just one thing—understand this principle?

One must earnestly seek the “true lead”—an alchemical term that here refers to true knowledge within the mind of the Dao—and not let time pass idly. Once one has grasped the “earthly soul,” a name for the inner force of Yang within Yin, one can subdue the “cinnabar mercury,” which symbolizes Yin within Yang. Then the “heavenly soul” will naturally come to refine the “water-metal.” This may be called profound attainment in the Dao: the Dragon and Tiger, symbols of Yin and Yang Qi locked in contention, will also be subdued. With deep De, even ghosts and spirits show respect. Once one knows how to attain longevity equal to that of Heaven and Earth, troubles can no longer arise.

This poem teaches one to investigate the roots of life deeply, return to the beginning, and recover one’s original source. To do so, one must recognize “true lead,” this essential great medicine. Recognizing true lead is equivalent to grasping the root; everything else then becomes easy to manage. True lead is nothing other than the true knowledge within the mind of the Dao mentioned earlier. This knowledge is also called the “true seed.” If one cannot recognize the true seed, cultivation loses its foundation, and all the various methods of practice are merely wasted effort.

“Seek with focused attention” refers to the work of investigating things to extend knowledge and pursuing principles to their utmost. Those who cultivate the Great Dao should first clarify its true principles. Once these are thoroughly understood, they can begin their cultivation, and its effects will appear quickly. If one has not understood the principles and merely fantasizes about obtaining the “Heavenly Treasure,” one is chasing empty illusions and wasting time.

“Earthly soul” and “water-metal” are images that symbolize true knowledge and signify Yang within Yin. “Heavenly soul” and “cinnabar mercury” signify Yin within Yang.

“Earthly Po and Water-Metal” symbolize Yin with Yang within it and represent “true knowing”; “Heavenly Hun and Cinnabar-Mercury” symbolize Yang with Yin within it and represent “numinous knowing.” To use Earthly Po to restrain Cinnabar-Mercury is to regulate numinous knowing through true knowing; for Heavenly Hun to restrain Water-Metal is to nourish true knowing through numinous knowing.

True knowing is firm and vigorous, belonging to Yang, like a husband; numinous knowing is yielding and receptive, belonging to Yin, like a wife. When true knowing governs numinous knowing, numinous knowing can follow its lead. Once it does, true knowing in turn becomes attached to it. The two work in harmony, and the vitality of life can endure. The Cantong qi (Seal of the Unity of the Three) expresses this mutual restraint and dependence in the lines: “The sun’s flowing pearl ever seeks to leave a person; at last it obtains the golden flower, turns back, and depends upon it.”

As true knowing and numinous knowing move from separation to union, firmness and yielding return to balance and harmony, then transform into innate knowing and innate capacity. When the mind and spirit are still, they are undisturbed by external things; when touched by an encounter, they respond naturally and freely. The “embryonic sage” (the inner attainment described in Neidan practice) then takes shape. At this stage, one’s cultivation of the Dao is profound, and the Dragon and Tiger (Neidan terms often referring to the Yin and Yang forces within the body) can be tamed; one’s De is deep, and even ghosts and spirits show respect. In this way, one can live a long life, enduring as long as Heaven and Earth. How, then, could worries and attachments weigh on the heart?

Eleven

Yellow Sprout and White Snow are not hard to find;

the truly accomplished must have deep De.

The Four Images and Five Phases all depend on Earth at the center to bring them into harmony;

the Three Origins and Eight Trigrams likewise cannot do without Ren Water.

Once their numinous form and substance have been refined, ordinary people cannot discern them;

when all Yin influences have been dispelled, ghosts and demons can no longer intrude.

I wish to leave the secret teachings among humankind,

yet I have never met a true confidant.

The poem says that when one’s cultivation of the Dao is profound and one’s De substantial, the Dragon and Tiger, as well as ghosts and spirits, will be tamed and compliant. In cultivating the Five Phases and Four Images, the key is Earth’s harmonizing role; the workings of the Three Origins and Eight Trigrams also depend on Ren Water. Once the numinous form and substance have been refined, ordinary people cannot recognize them; with Yin influences dispelled, ghosts and demons can no longer intrude. The author wishes to pass the secret teachings on to the world, but has found no one who can truly understand them.

The preceding verse says that when the Dao is practiced to a high level and De is deep and weighty, even dragons, tigers, ghosts, and spirits can be subdued and brought into harmony. This shows that cultivating the Dao requires De, and that De cannot exist without the Dao. The highest principles are not complicated, and the key to refining the Great Medicine is not far away. The “white clouds” are right before us; the “yellow sprouts” are within ourselves. If one truly wishes to find them, one can follow the natural course and attain them. In this sense, they are not hard to seek. Yet this Dao can raise people beyond the ordinary into sagehood and restore life to the dying—an achievement rare in the world. Though it is not hard to seek, without deep De and good deeds one cannot truly understand it. That is why it is also said that those who penetrate this Dao must rely on profound De. For a truly virtuous gentleman, a person of great resolve, finding this Dao is naturally not difficult.

The “Four Images” refer to the four kinds of Qi: Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire. Together with Earth, they make up the Five Phases. The “Three Origins” may refer to the celestial, terrestrial, and human origins, or to the upper, middle, and lower origins. The Eight Trigrams express the Yin-Yang transformations of the Four Images and the Five Phases: Qian is Yang Metal, Dui is Yin Metal; Kan is Yang Water, Gen is Yin Water; Zhen is Yang Wood, Xun is Yin Wood; Li is Yang Fire, and Kun is Yin Fire. Although the Eight Trigrams correspond to the Four Images and Yin-Yang, Kun and Gen also encompass Wu Earth and Ji Earth: Kun belongs to Yin Earth, and Gen to Yang Earth. Thus, the Qi of the Five Phases is also contained within the Eight Trigrams.

In the human body, the Five Phases appear as the “Five Origins”: nature, emotions, Jing, Shen, and Qi. When expressed in action, they become the “Five Virtues”: benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. In the person, the “Three Origins” appear as original Jing, original Qi, and original Shen. The Eight Trigrams correspond within the person to the Five Origins, the Five Virtues, and the qualities of firmness and gentleness. In sum, the Four Images, the Three Origins, and the Eight Trigrams all arise from the transformations of the Five Phases; they are not separate systems that exist beyond them.

Metal among the Five Phases needs Earth to support it, just as benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom all depend on trustworthiness to come to fruition. The Three Origins and the Eight Trigrams, too, depend on the Water and Jing symbolized by Ren. In the end, a person’s nature, emotions, Shen, and Qi all depend on the single-minded refinement of Jing. The “yellow sprouts” symbolize life beginning to grow in Earth, that is, inner trust. The “white snow” symbolizes Water’s clear lightness and signifies Jing refined to purity and unity. When benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom return to trustworthiness and maintain the centered and upright, the yellow sprouts gradually grow. When nature, emotions, Shen, and Qi return to purity and unity, the white snow seems to rise and soar through the sky. The “yellow sprouts” and “white snow” here are metaphors used in Neidan cultivation to describe transformations in the body, mind, Jing, and Qi.

In cultivation, one must refine and unify the mind, hold to the center, and practice persistently, keeping the Dao-mind ever stirred to life and the human mind ever still, until true knowing and numinous knowing become one. Then one is like a luminous, perfectly round jewel suspended in empty space: able to respond to things while remaining inwardly still, unconfined by forms or by emptiness, appearing or disappearing in accord with the moment. Act in accord with the Way of Heaven, and Heaven will not oppose you; act according to Heaven’s timing, and you can move in service to Heaven. If even Heaven will not oppose you, how much less will people and ghosts and spirits do so? People cannot see through you, and ghosts and spirits cannot intrude upon you. Could this possibly be empty talk?

This Dao is exceedingly simple, its guiding principles essential and free of complication. Those who understand and cultivate it can quickly attain the state of a sage, without waiting three or five years. Yet the world has few people of deep De and great resolve, and few who truly understand this Dao. Many hold the method in their hands and still feel that it lies beyond their reach. The Immortal Master said, “I wish to leave this secret teaching among humanity, but I have yet to meet anyone who truly understands it.” How can this not be cause for lament?

Plants and trees, too, have complementary Yin and Yang aspects. Without either one, they cannot flourish and bloom. First they grow green leaves: Yang Qi comes forth first. Then they produce red flowers: Yin Qi follows. The cooperation of Yin and Yang is a natural pattern we see every day, but who understands its fundamental source?

This poem continues the previous one’s discussion of cultivating De (Virtue/Power). It says that anyone cultivating the Dao (the Way) must understand the principle of Yin-Yang. The Classic of Changes says, “One Yin and one Yang: this is called the Dao.” It also says that when the Qi of Heaven and Earth mingle, all things grow in abundance; when male and female unite, all things reproduce. In Golden Elixir cultivation, firm, active Yang and yielding, responsive Yin are the guiding principles: when Yin and Yang unite, the Elixir can form and life can endure; when they oppose one another, they fall out of balance and harm life.

Even plants and trees, which have no conscious feelings, first grow green leaves as Yang Qi emerges, and only afterward bloom with red flowers as Yin Qi follows. By extension, the ordinary growth of every living being depends on Yin and Yang. The ordinary path follows their movement, while the immortal path reverses it. People know only how to follow the forward course; they do not understand how to turn it back. So they pursue illusory states and lose sight of the true source. When Yang reaches its extreme, it turns into Yin; when Yin reaches its extreme, it leads toward death.

Those who cultivate the Dao must first distinguish Yin from Yang. Only by understanding them can they find the true source: the “Gate of the Mysterious Female,” the fundamental opening through which Yin and Yang arise and transform. Both Yin and Yang originate there, as do the forward course and its reversal. To understand how to return to the source is to enter the realm of the sages.

Yin and Yang, however, take many forms: the precelestial and postcelestial, life and nature, the real and the false, the outer and the inner—each has its own Yin and Yang. Practitioners must distinguish these one by one before beginning their work. If they fail to recognize true Yin and Yang and cultivate blindly, abandoning the real to pursue the false, they risk their own life and nature.

Without understanding how Yin-Yang is reversed within the mysterious, how could one grasp the wonder of planting a lotus in fire? Lead the White Tiger—the innate Qi within the human body, symbolizing strength and uprightness—back home and nurture it, and it will form a luminous pearl, perfectly round like the moon. At this point, there is no need to watch the medicine furnace and monitor the fire. Simply still the mind, harmonize the breath, and let things follow their natural course. When acquired Yin has been entirely dispelled, the Golden Elixir is complete. One can then break free of worldly constraints and attain longevity.

The previous verse spoke of understanding Yin-Yang; this one concerns understanding the effects of cultivation—that is, the method for reversing Yin-Yang. “Reversal” means turning scattered and deluded emotions back toward true feeling and bringing them into accord with one’s true nature.

The White Tiger belongs to Metal. Here it refers to the strong and upright innate Qi in the Qian Palace, also called the “Dao-heart.” It manifests as genuine awareness and feeling. Once a person enters the acquired state, the human mind takes charge of body and mind, and the Dao-heart no longer shows itself. True feeling becomes obscured, and deluded emotions arise. This is like the White Tiger leaving its own home and running into someone else’s to cause harm. “Reversal” means turning back from deluded emotion to true feeling and bringing it into accord with true nature, like leading the White Tiger back from outside to nurture it at home.

When true feeling is set in motion, true nature becomes manifest. Nature and feeling become mutually attached, and the innate, true Qi of Oneness comes from the void and condenses into a precious pearl, perfectly round and bright like the full moon, as if the mountains, rivers, and earth were all reflected within it. At this point, the Golden Elixir has taken form. This is the state described in the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three) with the words, “Metal returns to the beginning of nature; only then can it be called the Returning Elixir.”

Once the Returning Elixir has congealed, a person’s innate capacity for knowing and doing operates naturally in stillness, without action, and flows naturally in movement, at ease and in accord with the Middle Way. The medicine is the fire, and the fire is the medicine. There is no need to collect or control anything deliberately; simply still the mind, harmonize the breath, and let things unfold naturally. The practitioner makes the transformations within the self into a furnace, uses the harmonious Qi of Yin-Yang as the true fire, and refines away acquired Yin until it becomes pure Yang. This is called the Elixir’s ripening. “Swallowing” the Golden Elixir and shedding one’s mortal form refer to the transformation attained through cultivation. In this way, one can transcend worldly constraints and attain longevity.

Of the three characters “Three-Five-One,” few people throughout history have truly understood their meaning. Three in the east and two in the south combine to make five; one in the north and four in the west also combine to make five. The central Wu and Ji Earth, too, belongs to five in itself. When the three families meet, they form an infant. From this we can understand that the Great One, Taiyi—the fundamental vital energy before the myriad things have differentiated—contains the true Qi. After ten months of nurturing, when the fetal Qi is complete, one steps onto the foundation of sagehood.

The previous poem explained the principle of reversing Yin-Yang; this one explains how to bring the Five Phases together in cultivation. At birth, the innate dispositions of the Five Phases are originally undivided and arise from the same primal Qi. Later, in the acquired state, the Five Phases separate: Metal and Wood no longer unite, Water and Fire no longer mingle. True Earth is buried, while the unruly nature of Earth gains the upper hand. When the mind and nature are thrown into disorder and nature and life are unsettled, Yang energy is depleted and Yin energy becomes dominant. How could human life then endure for long?

The Immortal Master presents the three characters “Three-Five-One” to teach people to reunite the scattered Five Phases and restore them to a single whole, thereby recovering their original innate knowledge and innate capacity, along with the undivided principle of Heaven. Throughout history, countless people have been puzzled by “Three-Five-One”; those who truly understand it can be counted on one hand.

“Three-Five” refers to the generating numbers of the Five Phases in the Hetu diagram: three in the east belongs to Wood, and two in the south belongs to Fire. Since Fire is generated by Wood, Wood and Fire form one family and together make a five. Four in the west belongs to Metal, and one in the north belongs to Water. Since Water is generated by Metal, Metal and Water form one family and together make a five. Earth in the center forms a family of its own and likewise makes a five.

If those who cultivate the Dao understand the principle of “Three-Five” and turn inward to practice it, harmonizing the Four Images—the four forces that represent the changes of Yin and Yang—and bringing the Five Phases together, then nature, emotions, Jing, Qi, and Shen will coalesce, and benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness will return to a single source. This is called “the meeting of the three families.”

Confucians call this state “Taiji,” “Heavenly Principle,” “Supreme Good,” or “Supreme Sincerity.” Daoists call it the “infant,” “primordial Qi,” “sacred embryo,” or “Golden Elixir.” Buddhists call it “perfect awakening,” “true emptiness,” “Dharma body,” “relic,” or “mani jewel.” All these names refer to a person’s innate goodness and original nature. Cultivating the Dao means returning to one’s nature, allowing innate knowledge and innate capacity to return to their source. After ten months of gentle nurturing, when the true Qi is abundant and the spirit complete, one can leave the sea of suffering, attain a “body beyond the body,” and enter the foundation of the sacred Dao, where there is neither birth nor death.

Poem Fifteen: If you do not recognize True Lead, the symbol of the primordial, original Qi, every method of cultivation is wasted effort. Deliberately abstaining from marital relations in the hope of separating Yin and Yang, or fasting until the stomach and intestines are empty, will accomplish nothing. Plants and trees, gold and silver, are coarse, impure substances; clouds, rosy mists, the sun, and the moon are only indistinct outer appearances. Even breathing exercises and the visualization of Shen remain different from Golden Elixir cultivation.

The previous poem said that the Five Phases must gather and return to a single Qi before cultivation can begin in earnest. But to gather the Five Phases, one must first recognize the primordial, original Qi. The single Yang line within the Kan trigram symbolizes the firm, centered Qi of the Qian trigram and the Dao heart’s true knowing. It is likened to “True Lead” and called “that which Heaven’s One gives birth to.” This primordial, original Qi is the root from which all things grow, and the foundation for becoming a sage or an immortal, attaining Buddhahood, and cultivating the Dao. It is regarded as the orthodox ancestral Qi of the Golden Elixir. The saying “Know the One, and all affairs are complete” refers to understanding this root.

If one does not recognize True Lead, cultivation has lost its foundation. Whether abstaining from marital relations, fasting, smelting plants and trees or gold and silver, consuming clouds, rosy mists, the sun, and the moon, exhaling impure Qi, or visualizing images, such practices either fall into emptiness or cling to outer appearances. All this effort is ultimately futile and has nothing to do with Golden Elixir cultivation.

Poem Sixteen: The ten thousand scrolls of immortal scriptures offer many explanations, but their teaching has the same root. The root of the Golden Elixir lies here. It takes form in the Kun position, which symbolizes Yin and the earth, and is planted at the point of union in the Qian abode, which symbolizes Yang and heaven. Do not be surprised that the secrets of Heaven have been disclosed so plainly; scholars themselves are simply ignorant and unclear. If someone understands the meaning of this poem, then…

Although the ten thousand scrolls of immortal scriptures—the Daoist cultivation classics—present different teachings, the foundation of Golden Elixir cultivation is one and the same: to form the Golden Elixir by following the Yin-Yang transformations represented by the trigrams Kan, Li, Kun, and Qian.

The Golden Elixir takes shape through the Kun position and is planted in the Qian family’s Palace of Union. Here, the trigrams of the Classic of Changes are used as metaphors: Kun and Qian represent Yin and Yang. “Planting” and “union” describe the cultivation principle by which Yin and Yang join and generate the Golden Elixir.

Do not be surprised that the secret workings of cultivation are stated so plainly. Those who study the Dao are often blinded by their own ignorance and so fail to understand what these words mean. Whoever grasps the poem’s teaching will be able to behold the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the highest deities revered in Daoism, and the Venerable Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun).

Of the fifteen poems above, some explain the forward course and others the reverse; some treat matters separately, while others bring them together; some identify the ingredients, while others reveal the firing process. They distinguish truth from falsehood in detail and address even subtle levels, but their teachings are scattered rather than concentrated. Fearing that readers might find the many particulars overwhelming and difficult to approach, this poem gathers the meaning of the first fifteen into a single, simple and accessible path of cultivation.

Since ancient times, perfected immortals have written elixir scriptures and Daoist books, using many metaphors and symbols to express the essence of cultivation as fully as possible. Though the wording differs from book to book, the teachings are broadly the same: each clarifies the foundation of the Golden Elixir. Yet as books multiplied in later generations, people became more confused, each clinging to a different interpretation and straying into side paths. How could they know that the foundation of Golden Elixir cultivation lies in this step: “taking Kan to fill Li” and “following Kun back to Qian”—using these trigrams to describe the transformation and restoration of Yin and Yang?

“The body formed in Kun’s position” refers to the single Yang line within the Kan trigram. “The palace where the Qian family mingles and responds” refers to the single Yin line within the Li trigram. Kan originally takes Kun as its substance, so it is called “Kun’s position”; Li originally takes Qian as its substance, so it is called “the Qian family.”

The Book of Changes says that Qian makes things understandable through ease, while Kun brings things to completion through simplicity. Qian’s nature is firm and strong; Kun’s is yielding and receptive. Firmness and strength allow one to understand how things work and face difficulty without fear. Yielding and receptivity allow one to accomplish things without force. “Easy to understand, simple to put into practice,” when applied to a person, refers to the innate capacity for good knowing and good ability.

At birth, strength and receptivity, firmness and softness are wholly integrated. Without deliberate thought, a person accords with the laws of Heaven. At that time, the mind and nature are complete and luminous, pure and unstained: they possess only the innate nature of good knowing and good ability, without any admixture.

Around the age of sixteen, Yang Qi reaches its peak and Yin Qi begins to arise; a person then enters the acquired state. As Yin Qi gradually grows, the principles of Heaven become entangled with selfish desires, and firmness and softness lose their balance. Yang is thus hemmed in by Yin, and the pure original nature becomes obscured. The scripture uses the trigrams to explain this change: Qian and Kun interact, and one Yang from Qian enters Kun’s palace. Kun then contains a solid Yang line and becomes Kan. One Yin from Kun enters Qian’s palace, leaving Qian with one Yang line missing; it becomes Li.

When innate purity is obscured, the Dao Mind becomes hidden and faint, difficult to perceive. Knowledge and the faculty of discrimination gradually awaken, and the Human Mind arises with them, prone to danger. The “faintness” of the Dao Mind means it is almost gone, reduced to a trace, with Yang too weak to overcome Yin. The “danger” of the Human Mind means it readily gives rise to desire when it encounters external things, as Yin’s force presses down upon Yang Qi.

Yet the Dao Mind has not entirely vanished, nor has the Human Mind taken complete control. At times, even amid confusion, a glimmer of clarity arises; this is called “true knowing,” though it is easily lost as soon as it appears. The ability to respond flexibly when something occurs is called “numinous knowing,” but this quickness can also give rise to deluded thoughts.

The method of cultivating the Golden Elixir is to make the Yang hidden within Yin reappear: draw out the true awareness of the Dao mind (the original mind and nature) and use it to awaken the numinous awareness of the human mind (the mind ordinarily influenced by desires and ingrained habits). Numinous awareness returns to true knowing, and true knowing in turn merges into numinous awareness. The Dao mind is firm and strong; the human mind is yielding. Yin and Yang respond to each other, and firmness and yielding work together. When strength and yielding are in harmony, true nature and spiritual awareness are not lost. One thereby restores the innate capacity for knowing and acting, along with the original appearance of Qianyuan (the pure Yang, active source). This is called “taking Kan to fill Li,” using it to awaken the numinous awareness of the human mind.

“Taking Kan to fill Li” is also called “relying on Kun to plant Qian.” This means relying on the Kun position (the position associated with Yin) to form the body, then sowing the seed at the point of interaction in the Qian domain (the position associated with Yang). Taking Kan means bringing forth the Yang that has sunk into the Kan trigram, so that Kan is restored to Kun. Filling Li means transforming the Yin mixed into the Li trigram, so that Li is restored to Qian. Here, Kan, Li, Qian, and Kun describe the process of cultivation through which Yin and Yang transform.

Once the forms of Qian and Kun have taken shape, the Mysterious Female (the profound portal where Yin and Yang meet and all things are generated) is established, the Valley Spirit (the Dao-body, empty and still yet able to generate and transform) is preserved, and the Golden Elixir condenses, the cultivation of nature and life reaches completion and one is no longer bound by the laws of postnatal change. This is a celestial secret handed down through countless kalpas. The immortals of antiquity would not speak of it plainly. With immense compassion, the Immortal Elder expounded in sixteen poems what earlier writers had left unexplained, revealing the fundamental mystery and probing deeply into its principles. At the end, he directly identifies the source of the Golden Elixir and fully discloses the celestial secret. Whoever grasps the poems’ subtle meaning can reach the realm of the sages and behold the Supreme Lord of the Three Pure Ones in person. This is no empty claim.

Direct Guidance to Awakening to Reality, Book Two

Sixty-four seven-character quatrains, arranged according to the sixty-four hexagrams of the Book of Changes.

There are two poems on the cauldron and furnace:

First

First make Qian and Kun the cauldron and furnace; then gather the Crow and Rabbit (the elixirs symbolizing the sun and moon, Yin and Yang) and refine them. Once these two forces have been directed into the Yellow Path (the harmonious middle way where Yin and Yang move and meet), how could the Golden Elixir fail to form?

Qian symbolizes vigorous action and takes Heaven as its image; Kun symbolizes yielding compliance and takes Earth as its image. In the human person, Qian and Kun correspond to the temperaments of firmness and gentleness. Within the sun is a crow, symbolizing Yin contained within Yang; in the trigrams, this corresponds to Li. Li is Yang on the outside and Yin within, and the single Yin inside is true Yin. In the human person, it corresponds to the innate spiritual awareness stored in the human mind. Within the moon is a rabbit, symbolizing Yang contained within Yin; in the trigrams, this corresponds to Kan. Kan is Yin on the outside and Yang within, and the single Yang inside is true Yang. In the human person, it corresponds to the genuine knowledge possessed by the Dao mind.

To take Qian and Kun as the vessel is to make firmness and yielding the foundation of alchemical practice. Gathering the medicines of the crow and rabbit for refinement means using genuine knowledge and spiritual awareness in the work of alchemy. Refining genuine knowledge makes it wholly true in every circumstance, bringing firmness back to the mean and proper course. Refining spiritual awareness keeps it free from obscurity, bringing gentleness back to the mean and proper course. When firmness and gentleness both return to the mean, the Dao mind can act vigorously and the human mind can become yielding. Genuine knowledge and spiritual awareness then unite as one, like guiding the crow and rabbit back to the Yellow Path—the central course of the sun’s movement.

The Yellow Path is the central course, the sun’s trajectory. The sun travels along this central course, while the moon passes through nine paths: the four directions—azure, vermilion, white, and black—each divide into two paths outside the Yellow Path, making eight paths in all, both inner and outer. The moon’s meeting with the sun, and their alternating movements, together are called the nine paths. Where the sun and moon intersect, their two forces return to the Yellow Path.

At birth, a person has only a single, wholly true innate awareness and spiritual nature. There is no distinction between the human mind and the Dao mind, nor between genuine knowledge and spiritual awareness. Only after entering the acquired state do the human mind and Dao mind become distinct, and the difference between genuine knowledge and spiritual awareness arise.

The human mind refers to the various forms of perception and activity. Perception here means numinous awareness: the mind’s capacity to perceive. The Dao mind refers to remaining undeluded when faced with different circumstances. To be undeluded is to possess true understanding: wisdom that sees things as they really are.

The human mind can perceive keenly, but it cannot truly understand. Its nature is yielding and weak, so it is called Yin. The Dao mind has true understanding as well as numinous awareness; its Qi is strong and vigorous, so it is called Yang. Sages, too, have a human mind, and ordinary people, too, have a Dao mind. Sages have a human mind because they cannot eliminate perception; ordinary people have a Dao mind because at times they can remain clear and undeluded.

What distinguishes sages from ordinary people is that the sages’ inner True Numinous Mind—the mind that is genuinely and lucidly aware—forms a continuous whole. It both perceives and remains free of obscurity at all times. In ordinary people, by contrast, the True Numinous Mind is divided and disconnected: although they perceive, they cannot help being deluded. Hidden within the human mind is the cognitive spirit, an awareness that depends on thought and discrimination and readily gives rise to deluded thoughts in response to circumstances. Through numinous awareness, the cognitive spirit generates deluded thoughts; when it encounters the external world, emotions arise, and the mind is tossed about like waves stirred by the wind. Numinous awareness thus falls into delusion, and the human mind becomes perilous and unsettled.

The human mind is easily unsettled. Deviant influences—the thoughts and energies that stray from the Way—grow strong, while upright influences—the thoughts and energies that are proper and pure—grow weak. The Dao mind, which perceives and follows the Way of Heaven, is hard to make clear and therefore seems subtle and elusive. Cultivating the Dao means tempering the Dao mind’s steadfast true knowing until it returns to the center and to what is right. It also means tempering the human mind’s keen awareness until it gently returns to the center and to what is right. Firmness and gentleness come together; strength and yielding are in balance. One becomes wholly focused and pure, holding fast to the center. Innate moral understanding and the capacity to act blend completely with the principles of Heaven, and original Qi (vital energy) then flows naturally. How could the Golden Elixir fail to form?

The Golden Elixir is formed by the gathering of two kinds of Qi, the firm and the yielding. When true knowing and numinous awareness return to the center, Heaven and humanity become one. It is like a precious pearl suspended in empty space: it holds to the center and shines everywhere. Once the Golden Elixir takes shape, it grows from subtle to manifest, from its first beginnings to maturity. If one continues cultivating in this way, how could one fail to attain liberation?

Second: Set up the furnace and cauldron, taking Heaven and Earth as models; refine the essences and regulate the hun and po souls. Yin-Yang Qi gathers and disperses, transforming amid a swirling intermingling. How could such mysterious principles be treated as ordinary topics of conversation?

The furnace is used to regulate the stages of heating, while the precious cauldron is used to refine the substances. In cultivating the Golden Elixir, one must emulate the yielding nature of the Kun trigram and master the work of gradual progress; one must also emulate the firm vigor of the Qian trigram and use fierce fire for rapid refinement. Firmness and yielding, strength and softness, must all be present. One’s resolve and intention must remain steady and enduring, gaining strength with time. Only when the cauldron and furnace are stable and unmoved can one gather the substances and regulate the fire.

The mind’s thoughts are keen and discerning, manifesting as Yang on the outside and Yin within, like the sun’s essence shining outward. The Dao-heart’s true knowing, by contrast, is like moonlight, held within. Keen awareness belongs to the Hun, while inner true knowing belongs to the Po. The spiritual awareness represented by the Hun is “using the spirit deliberately”; the true knowing represented by the Po is “the spirit appearing naturally, though it seems not to be used.” The former displays spiritual awareness, yet mixes it with falsity; the latter seems not to display spiritual awareness, yet contains truth. Refining the essence means removing the falsity mixed into the human mind’s spiritual awareness and refining the truth contained within the Dao-heart, though it may seem false.

As false awareness recedes and true spiritual clarity settles, the Hun no longer scatters and is brought under control. As true knowing appears and false knowing disappears, the Po no longer becomes disordered and is brought under control. Once the Hun and Po are settled, true knowing and keen awareness, feeling and innate nature, come together and condense into a single Qi. Their energies blend in harmony and can gather, disperse, and transform. The mind remains still and unmoving, yet responds and connects when touched. Every action accords with the workings of Heaven. The subtle wonder of this is beyond words.

Two Poems on the Crouching-Moon Furnace

Third

Do not cling to the alchemical furnace and waste your effort. To refine the substances, seek the Crouching-Moon Furnace, the furnace that symbolizes the inner state of cultivation. The natural fire cycle is already present within it; no firewood or charcoal is needed, nor any bellows to fan the flames.

“Crouching moon” refers to the third day of each lunar month, when a hook-shaped crescent appears in the Kun direction, the southwest. Because the moonlight resembles a crescent lying on its back, it is called “crouching moon.” For the cultivator, a glimmer of Yang appears in a moment of profound stillness, like the first appearance of the crouching moon. In the trigrams, this corresponds to Zhen.

The “reclining moon” refers to the crescent that appears in the southwest on the third day of each lunar month. Its light seems to tilt upward or downward, hence the name “reclining moon.” In the human body, it symbolizes the glimmer of sunlight that emerges within a person in a state of profound stillness. In the trigrams, it corresponds to Zhen. The verse “On the third day, Zhen brings forth Geng; above the banks of Qujiang, the moonlight shines clear” describes this very scene.

This glimmer of sunlight is none other than the “Dao mind,” the original mind aligned with the Great Dao. The hardest thing to attain in Neidan cultivation is the Dao mind. Once it appears, the principles of Heaven become clear, and the vigorous energy gradually stirs. Everything in the land, mountains, and rivers can then serve as an ingredient for cultivation, ready to be used at hand and in accord with the Dao. The saying “the medicine is the fire, and the fire is the medicine” means that the ingredients needed for cultivation and the regulation of the fire correspond to each other. Since the body itself contains a natural furnace and cauldron, fashioned by the workings of creation, and a true fire, there is no need to rely on a pill furnace, firewood, charcoal, or bellows to refine the elixir.

Fourth:

In the reclining moon furnace, jade buds emerge; within the cinnabar cauldron, mercury returns to equilibrium. Only because the fire’s timing is harmonized does the yellow sprout, an image in Neidan of the life force within the internal elixir, gradually grow and mature.

The crescent-moon furnace—the cauldron that, in cultivation, symbolizes the Dao-heart—is the Dao-heart described earlier. In “jade pistil,” jade is gentle and yielding, and belongs to Yin; “pistil” suggests brightness and beauty, and belongs to Yang. The jade pistil therefore symbolizes Yang within Yin, and serves as a metaphor for true knowing within the Dao-heart.

The cinnabar cauldron—the cauldron that symbolizes the human heart in cultivation—is the human heart itself. Mercury flows and shifts without settling; it belongs to Yin and symbolizes Yin within Yang, serving as a metaphor for the human heart’s numinous knowing. When the Dao-heart is constantly manifest and true knowing remains clear, the human heart’s numinous knowing naturally grows calm and no longer surges and wanders. Then, through the work of harmonizing, use the Dao-heart’s innate true fire to refine away the human heart’s illusory, numinous knowing, returning it to empty numinosity. Heaven and humanity respond and set one another in motion; true knowing and numinous knowing unite as one, understanding becomes complete, and thoughts return to sincerity. This is called the Yellow Sprout.

The Yellow Sprout is a seed planted by true numinosity. Its spiritual nature is nourished and warmed by Earth Qi, and, like a young shoot emerging yellow from the soil, it is called the Yellow Sprout. After true knowing and numinous knowing have been harmonized through the firing process and brought into balance, they are planted in the central upper cauldron—the vessel symbolizing the central position in Neidan cultivation—and nurtured with true intent. When the Qi mechanism has matured after ten months, it naturally ripens and transforms.

Four Poems on True Lead

Fifth

Swallowing fluids and drawing in breath are what ordinary people do;

Only something truly real can bring about transformation.

If the cauldron contains no true seed,

It is like boiling an empty pot with water and fire.

The true knowing within the Dao-heart contains the innate One Qi. It takes the image of lead and is the true seed for becoming a sage or worthy, a Buddha or an immortal. To cultivate the Great Elixir, there is nothing else to rely on apart from this true seed. The deluded people of the world work only on their physical bodies, treating the swallowing of fluids and the drawing in of breath as Dao cultivation. They do not know that what the body produces is merely acquired and materially impure. How could it give rise to the innate, most numinous and sacred inner elixir? This is like having no true seed in the cauldron and using only water and fire to boil an empty pot.

Only by harmonizing Lead and Mercury can the Golden Elixir be refined; the greater and lesser must both remain unharmed for each to be preserved. If one asks what true Lead is, it is the toad’s radiance—the clear light of the moon—shining over the Western River throughout the day. Here, the Western River is an image for cultivation.

The Golden Elixir here refers to the union of the Dao-heart’s true knowing and the human heart’s numinous knowing. To cultivate the Golden Elixir, one must first harmonize Lead and Mercury. The Dao-heart is firm and strong, belongs to Yang, and is called the “greater”; the human heart is gentle and pliant, belongs to Yin, and is called the “lesser.” Without the Dao-heart’s guidance, the human heart may misuse its numinous knowing and thereby harm the Dao. When the Dao-heart governs it, the human heart’s spiritual clarity does not grow dim and can instead assist the cultivation of the Dao.

The Dao-heart is indispensable, but the human heart cannot be eliminated either. The key is to keep the human heart from misusing its numinous knowing. When the ancients spoke of “putting the human heart to death,” they meant removing its deluded aspect, not extinguishing its genuine numinous knowing. To make no distinction between the false and the genuine and eliminate the human heart altogether is to fall into a teaching of inert emptiness and extinction. Injuring the Yin human heart also impedes the Yang Dao-heart; when Yin and Yang lose their balance, vitality cannot be sustained, and the Great Way of the Golden Elixir cannot be realized.

Thus it is said, “The greater and lesser must both remain unharmed for each to be preserved.” The phrase “both realms preserved” means that the human heart’s numinous knowing and the Dao-heart’s true knowing become one: true knowing governs numinous knowing, and numinous knowing follows true knowing. In this way, neither is lost. Both continue to exercise their innate capacity to know the good and do good, fully in accord with the principles of Heaven. One’s original nature becomes complete and radiant, and the Golden Elixir is refined.

True knowledge and numinous knowing together make up “innate knowing and innate ability”—the clear awareness and natural capacities that people possess from the beginning. In the primordial state, these are called innate knowing and innate ability; in the acquired state, they are called true knowledge and numinous knowing. If one can return from the acquired state to the primordial, true knowledge becomes innate knowing, and numinous knowing becomes innate ability. True knowledge and numinous knowing are originally one; there is no distinction between them.

After entering the acquired state, a trace of primordial, pure innate knowing is lost outside and falls into another’s house—a metaphor for true knowledge being drawn along by external things and no longer under one’s own control. The innate numinous nature and capacities originally one’s own also become mixed and impure, shifting without stability. To return to the root and restore the origin, one must discern true knowledge within the false knowing of the acquired state and lead it back within. Only then can numinous knowing become clear again and free of obscurity.

True knowledge is supremely strong and firm, so it is likened to “true lead.” It possesses the primordial Qi of unity and is also compared to “gold in water” and “light in the moon”—images that all signify Yang contained within Yin. Yet before it has returned, true knowledge remains as if in another’s house and does not belong to oneself. Hence the saying, “The toad’s light shines all day over the western stream.” A golden toad dwells in the moon, and “the toad’s light” means the light within the moon. It serves as a metaphor for true knowledge, dark in appearance yet bright within. It shines all day to the west and not to the east, showing that its brightness is still over there. The Immortal Elder later wrote, “The Golden Lord was originally a son of the eastern house; he was sent to dwell in the western neighbor’s body.” This expresses precisely the meaning of the toad’s light shining over the western stream.

If a practitioner truly understands where the true knowledge referred to by “the toad’s light shines all day over the western stream” resides, they can turn it to shine eastward, where it will meet numinous knowing. Alas! Following the course of the acquired state leads toward extinction; turning back against that course restores the life force. True knowledge is often elusive—how easy is it to recognize?

Before you have refined the Returning Elixir—the state of completion in Neidan practice—do not hurry off into the mountains. Neither in the mountains nor outside them is the so-called “lead” to be found. This precious treasure is something everyone already possesses, but the ignorant cannot fully recognize it.

Withdrawing from the world and entering the deep mountains for quiet cultivation is something to do after refining the Returning Elixir. Those who do not understand this think that retreating to the mountains to cultivate in stillness will bring long life. But to follow the Way of longevity, one must obtain true “lead” for the practice to work, and true lead must be found in the world. If one goes into the mountains to cultivate the Dao, where Yin energy fills the mountains and everything around them, how could true lead—the thing that is supremely Yang—be there?

True lead refers to the innate numinous root. It is also called the “root of Heaven,” “essence of the True One,” “Qi of the True One,” “lead of the waterland,” “metal within water,” “white within black,” “soul within the po-soul,” “black tiger,” “Lord Metal,” or the “deathless formula of another’s household.” The ancients used many metaphors, but at root they all describe one thing: the Dao-heart.

When the Dao-heart appears, it is a subtle and real awareness; when hidden, it is a pure and unified true emptiness. Everyone possesses it from the beginning, and it is complete in all. It does not increase in the sage or diminish in the ordinary person, which is why it is said that every household has it. Yet though every household has it, it cannot simply be treated as something each person may possess at will: when it appears, it cannot be grasped, and when it is put to use, it cannot be seen. Because everyone has it, yet it cannot be treated as private property, the ignorant fail to recognize it even when they encounter it, and so let it slip away right before their eyes.

Peng Haogu, who lived in the late Ming, did not understand this principle. He took “every household has it” to mean a woman’s cauldron—the female body used for gathering and refining. More recently, Zhijizi has explained it through the “Three Peaks” method of sexual warfare, which treats intercourse between men and women as a means of cultivation. The author considers such explanations benighted and mistaken: they mislead later students and bear grave culpability.

When bamboo breaks, it should be mended with bamboo; to hatch a chick, one should use an egg. Things can respond to one another only when they belong to the same kind. Use something of a different kind, and even the greatest effort may achieve little. The Cantong qi (also known as the Sanxiang lei, a Daoist alchemical classic) says: “With things of the same kind, the work is easy to carry out; with things of different kinds, it is hard to apply one’s skill.”

The Great Way of the Golden Elixir is the method of cultivation practiced by the sages. To learn from the sages, one must find the seed of the sage: the true knowledge referred to as “true lead.” Cultivating the Great Way with this true knowledge allows one to accord with the workings of the sages. These workings are the wholly pure and proper principle of Heaven. True knowledge knows all things and is true in every respect; it can bring a person back to the principle of Heaven. That is why it is said to accord with the workings of the sages. Once one accords with those workings, one has attained the realm of the sages. Why, then, are those who study the Dao unwilling to apply themselves?

On the use of lead:

Nine

The phrase “empty the mind and fill the belly” carries profound meaning. To empty the mind is to recognize one’s original mind. Yet it is better first to refine true lead and fill what is within, letting all the gold in the hall gather together for a time. Here, “lead” and “gold” are terms in Neidan cultivation, used figuratively for the foundation of practice and the essence and Qi gained through it.

The essence of Golden Elixir cultivation (Neidan cultivation) lies in two things: “emptying the heart” and “filling the belly.” Emptying the heart means clearing away the mind of selfish desires; this belongs to cultivating one’s nature. Filling the belly means making the original heart, in accord with the Great Dao, full and strong; this belongs to cultivating one’s life. Both concern the cultivation of nature and life, and their meanings are profound.

To empty the heart, one must first distinguish what “heart” means. There is the “human heart” and the “Dao heart”: the human heart should be empty rather than full, while the Dao heart should be full rather than empty. If one fails to distinguish what is genuine from what is false, or right from wrong, and simply empties every thought indiscriminately, one will cultivate neither life nor nature.

Once this is understood, there is no need to deliberately suppress the human heart until it is empty. Instead, one should first cultivate the “true lead” within the Dao heart, making the inner self full. “True lead” is a metaphor in Neidan cultivation for inner true Jing or primordial Qi. “Filling the belly” does not simply mean eating one’s fill; it means making the foundation abundant. When the foundation is abundant, upright Qi can gather, and agitated, superficial Qi from outside naturally recedes. The human heart then grows calm. When Yin-Yang and the Four Images are harmonized and the Qi of the Five Phases comes together, the practitioner can obtain the “treasure of life.” The human heart can then return to purity, the Dao heart can be nurtured, the roots of nature and life can be understood, and one can enter a state free of attachment.

Speaking of using lead, yet not using it

Chapter Ten

The lead used in Elixir cultivation must not be ordinary lead. Even after obtaining true lead, one must ultimately cast it aside. This is the true subtle secret of using “lead”: one speaks of using lead, yet in fact does not use it. That is indeed how it is.

The key to cultivating the Golden Elixir lies in gathering and refining true lead. But lead comes in different kinds: there is ordinary lead and there is true lead. Ordinary lead is a tangible, impure substance mined from the mountains, unrelated to self-cultivation.

Cultivating the Golden Elixir—the achievement sought through Neidan cultivation—hinges on gathering and refining “true lead.” There are two kinds of lead. One is a tangible, impure mineral found in the mountains, called “ordinary lead,” which has nothing to do with inner cultivation. The other is “true lead,” which arises from one’s own nature and mind: the “Dao mind,” the original mind aligned with the Great Dao. It is an intangible spiritual power that corresponds to the practitioner. The ancient immortals who attained the Dao were able to transcend the ordinary and reach the sacred realm through true lead—that is, through the workings of the Dao mind. Therefore, ordinary lead cannot be used to refine lead.

Although the Dao mind is an innate treasure, it must be brought forth through acquired cultivation. It need not be put to use at all times. Before the Golden Elixir has formed, one must rely on the Dao mind’s true knowing to restrain the human mind’s spiritual awareness. Once the human mind is settled and its awareness is no longer confused, the movements and stillness of the Dao mind and human mind accord with each other, and their true knowing and spiritual awareness correspond as substance and emptiness. When the Sacred Embryo—the inner foundation gradually formed through Neidan cultivation—has taken shape, one should promptly draw in the Dao mind’s firm, vigorous activity and gently nourish fetal breathing, the practice of quietly nurturing the Sacred Embryo.

The Dao mind is used to settle the human mind. When the human mind is calm and the cognitive spirit—the consciousness that discriminates and deliberates—has receded, innate knowing and innate capacity rest in stillness, yet respond and communicate naturally when stirred. The true spirit alone remains, clear and bright, without obscurity. At this point, the Dao mind no longer needs to be used. One should cling neither to “being” nor to “nonbeing”; both external things and the self return to emptiness and stillness.

Lu Ziye said that the method of using true lead is like a fish trap or a rabbit snare: fish and rabbits are caught with the aid of these tools, but once the catch is secured, the tools are no longer needed. This is the subtle secret of refining lead. If one does not understand when to stop using true lead, and persists in applying the Dao mind after the Golden Elixir has formed, the human mind may arise again, causing the true spirit to disperse and the Golden Elixir, once attained, to be lost. Hence the saying: “Having used true lead, one must also set it aside.” The secret lies in knowing when to use lead and when not to.

On Lead and Mercury:

Eleven

In a dream I paid my respects at Xihua and ascended to the ninth heaven;

a perfected person taught me the Chapter on Pointing to the Origin.

Its words are concise, with little to say:

it simply teaches one to refine mercury and lead.

The Great Way of the Golden Elixir (the path of Neidan cultivation) is extremely simple and needs little explanation. The key is to refine and nourish true knowing within the Dao-heart—the clear, undimmed original awareness—and numinous knowing within the human heart—the consciousness that arises in response to external things. When the Dao-heart is strong and firm and returns to central correctness, it can remain constant. When true knowing guides numinous knowing, the human heart becomes gentle and yielding, returns to central correctness, and can remain still. When numinous knowing cleaves to true knowing, firmness and gentleness work in harmony, and true awareness unites with numinous awareness. This is called lead and mercury joining, and the Golden Elixir coalescing.

This method of cultivation is simple and unencumbered. Even an ordinary person who encounters it can quickly reach the state of a sage. Yet people often lack great virtue and good fortune, so it is not easy to receive this teaching. If someone has the virtue and good fortune, and meets a realized person who points out this simple and wondrous method, it is like waking from a dream: only then do they understand that the Great Medicine lies within themselves. There is no need to seek it outside; they can draw on it at any time and use it appropriately.

The Immortal Elder’s dream in which he paid homage to Xihua and received this teaching carries a profound meaning; it was not invented. Xihua is a place where true gold is produced. “Hua” symbolizes the clear brilliance of true gold, “Nine Heavens” symbolizes a realm of pure Yang without Yin, and “true gold” symbolizes true knowing. When a cultivator’s true knowing suddenly arises amid darkness, like sunlight appearing, they should gather it within themselves and unite it with numinous knowing. They then refine it through the firing process until they reach the realm of pure Yang without Yin. This is called “Seven Returns and Nine Restorations” or the “Great Elixir of Golden Liquor”; it was not merely a dream.

A Single Qi from the Void

Twelve

The Dao arises from the void and gives birth to a single Qi; that single Qi gives rise to Yin-Yang.

Yin-Yang join once more to form the Three; the Three continue to transform and generate, and the myriad things flourish from them.

The Way of cultivating nature and life is, at its root, also the Way by which Heaven and Earth bring things into being. This process of creation is the continual generation and continuation of life. Tracing it back to its source, all things arise from the void as a single Qi. This Qi gives rise to Heaven and Earth, forming Yin-Yang. Yin and Yang then unite again, containing a single Qi within them, and thus form the Three Bodies. Once the Three Bodies have formed, the single Qi continues to circulate: Yang arises within Yin, and Yin arises within Yang. In this way, all things come into being.

The growth of plants can also illustrate this process. First, a seed sprouts underground, sending out a shoot, as though a single Qi had arisen from the void. Next, the tender shoot emerges from the ground and opens two cotyledons, like the single Qi dividing into Yin and Yang. A stem then grows between the two cotyledons, like the union of Yin and Yang forming the Three Bodies. After this, branches and leaves continue to grow, and all things multiply and spread.

Everything in Heaven and Earth, whether sentient or insentient, arises from the single Qi within the void, yet all follow the outward course of creation and multiply. If practitioners of the Dao understand this forward course of creation, they can cultivate in reverse: gather the myriad things back into three, reduce three to two, reduce two to one, and return one to the void. In the end, they reach a state beyond sound and scent, returning to the source.

On Kan and Li

Thirteen

Within Kan, thunderously, Metal and Water are refined together. Fire rises from Kunlun—here referring to the upper region of the body, or the head—and Yin and Yang unite. If these two forces can be brought into harmony, the inner Golden Elixir will form naturally, and its fragrance will spread throughout the body.

“Kan’s lightning” refers to the image of Fire arising within Water, and serves as a metaphor for true knowledge in the Daoist mind. The original text breaks off at “at the utmost…,” and the surviving passage says no more.