《悟真篇阐幽》Vol. 2

“Moving with Heaven” means following the course of the Dao. The practitioner draws on the yang principle of the Kan trigram, which symbolizes Water, the kidneys, and related qualities, to illuminate the yin aspect associated with human desires within the Li trigram, which symbolizes Fire, the heart, and related qualities. This is the meaning of “overcoming the self and returning to ritual”: restraining selfish desires so that the human heart becomes the Dao-heart, and restoring the pure yang original nature represented by the Qian trigram.

This process moves from “refinement” to “unity”: cultivating with precision and single-minded focus. This is the subtlety of what is called “reversal.” At first, the Qian and Kun trigrams transform into Kan and Li, and the prenatal state turns into the postnatal. Later, Kan and Li are made to return to Qian and Kun, and the postnatal state once again becomes prenatal.

Once the Qian body is restored, transformation follows. As the six lines of the Qian hexagram in the Zhouyi describe, one may at times lie hidden, at times emerge, at times leap upward, and at times soar. The essential use of the firing times of the celestial circuit—a metaphor in Neidan for the stages and rhythms of cultivation—is precisely the function of “riding the dragon and steering through Heaven.” Though transformations are countless, in the end they are all governed by the mind. “When Qian’s primal energy is brought fully into use, the laws of Heaven become visible”: when this energy is used to its utmost, the principles of the Dao are revealed, and the foundation is laid for moving from the ordinary to the sacred, and from manifestation to spirit.

“Taking from Kan to replenish Li” is the fundamental key to refining the Golden Elixir. This chapter continues the preceding discussion and leads into what follows; it is also a pivotal passage in the work as a whole, and readers should pay particular attention to it.

First establish Qian and Kun as the cauldron and vessel;

then gather the medicines of the Raven and the Rabbit and refine them.

Once the Sun and Moon have been guided into the Yellow Path,

how could the Golden Elixir fail to form?

These lines give a concise account of the essential method for refining the Golden Elixir, which depends on deliberate cultivation. First, Qian and Kun are made the cauldron and vessel; then the medicines of the Raven and the Rabbit are gathered and refined. When the Qi of the Sun and Moon has returned to the Yellow Path, the Golden Elixir will naturally coalesce.

This chapter offers an overall account of the essential methods for refining the Golden Elixir, which depend on active cultivation. The previous chapter explained that using Kan to replenish Li and restoring the Qian body is the key to refining the Golden Elixir. But without knowing how to set up the furnace and establish the vessel, or how to cook and refine the medicines, how could the Way of the Elixir ever be perfected?

Qian above and Kun below form the framework of Kan and Li; together, they are the vessel. The Sun Crow and Moon Hare, symbols of the sun and moon, are the essence of Qian and Kun; together, they are the medicines. During the twelve double-hours of the day, practitioners first gather in their gaze, focus the Shen, and listen inwardly, never letting their attention wander, even for a moment. In this way, body and mind gradually merge into one and naturally converge in the Central Yellow Spirit Chamber, an internal alchemy term for the center where body and mind gather for refinement and cultivation.

Thus it is said: “First take Qian and Kun as the vessel, then obtain the medicines of the Crow and Hare and cook them.” Once body and mind have merged and returned to the Central Yellow, the three families—Jing, Qi, and Shen—meet and naturally unite as one, forming the sacred embryo, the name for the Elixir embryo in internal alchemy. The timing and intensity of the fire are also contained in this process. Hence it is also said: “Once the two medicines have been made to enter the Yellow Path, how could the Golden Elixir fail to form?”

According to astrological texts, the moon follows nine paths, of which the central one is called the Yellow Path. The sun and moon meet along this path. The Crow and Hare represent the sun and moon, which in turn correspond to Kan and Li. Setting up the furnace and vessel and gathering and refining the medicines is what the previous chapter called “taking Kan to replenish Li”; making them enter the Yellow Path and produce the Golden Elixir is what it called “transforming into the Qian body.” These four lines encompass the vessel, the medicines, and the timing and intensity of the fire. That is why they are said to sum up the essential methods of active cultivation in refining the Golden Elixir. The next chapter will explain each of these elements in turn.

To set up the furnace and establish the vessel, take Qian and Kun as your model; refine the essence and blend the Po and Hun. Amid gathering and dispersal, the diffused, intermingling Qi transforms. How could such a mystery be spoken of casually?

This chapter further explains the purpose of “setting up the furnace and establishing the cauldron.” The ancients used the “crow in the sun” as a metaphor for the sun’s vital essence, and the “rabbit in the moon” for the moon’s radiance. The sun belongs to Yang and symbolizes true fire; the moon belongs to Yin and symbolizes true water. The moon itself is dark and without light; it shines only by reflecting the sun. The moon’s dark portion is called the “earthly po,” while the light that appears when it reflects the sun is called the “heavenly hun.” Together, the two are originally one. The “true sun and true moon” within the human body work in the same way.

The Li trigram, which symbolizes fire and contains Yin within Yang, has Yang lines on the outside and a Yin line within; that inner Yin line symbolizes the sun’s true essence. The Kan trigram, which symbolizes water and contains Yang within Yin, has Yin lines on the outside and a Yang line within; that inner Yang line symbolizes the Great Yin’s true radiance. Those who cultivate the Dao must use the true fire of the Li palace to shine back upon the Kan palace. The Kan palace’s golden radiance will then appear and respond to it, just as the moon brightens in the sun’s light, or as Yang returns with the renewal of a single Yang line after Yin reaches its extreme.

The initial work of refining the Golden Elixir must therefore begin by “setting up the furnace and establishing the cauldron,” followed by refining and nourishing the medicinal substances. “Gathering in sight and returning hearing” means drawing the gaze inward rather than letting it wander outside, and gathering in the hearing so that the mind and spirit turn inward. This is the first step in setting up the furnace and establishing the cauldron. Unifying body and mind is the key to refining and bringing them under control. Only when body and mind have merged into one can the true “seed” be obtained, accompanied by signs such as Qi gathering in a warm, misty fullness and inner transformation.

The heavenly hun and earthly po follow the same underlying principle; the sun’s essence and the moon’s radiance are not two separate things. The key to this is exceedingly subtle and profound. It must be taught by a true teacher and should not be treated like an ordinary instrument for casual speculation and talk. What Mencius called “difficult to speak of” refers precisely to this principle, which cannot easily be conveyed in words. On the surface, this chapter speaks only of setting up the furnace and establishing the cauldron, but it also contains the essentials of the medicinal substances and the timing of the fire.

Although swallowing saliva and taking in Qi are outward actions in cultivation, genuine transformation must still have a real “substance” as its foundation. If the cauldron contains no true seed, it is like putting water and fire into an empty pot and boiling them: nothing will be refined in the end.

This chapter further explains that alchemical practice must begin with the true Elixir seed, the foundation that initiates the work and enables the substances to coalesce. In discussing alchemy, once one understands how to set up the furnace and establish the cauldron—that is, how to set the proper positions for cultivating body and mind—one must also discern the substances. False substances are easy for anyone to talk about and work with. But when it comes to the true seed, most people are at a loss.

Swallowing saliva and taking in Qi are merely minor methods of heterodox practice. Even these methods can work only when a guiding principle directs their practice. How much more so the Great Way of the Golden Elixir: how could it generate and transform things on its own without a substantial foundation? The Most High said, “There is something formed in undifferentiated wholeness, born before Heaven and Earth.” This thing exists before Heaven and Earth and can generate Heaven, Earth, and human beings; it is the source of all creation and transformation. Within the human body, it is our original nature before birth, the primordial Shen that cannot be destroyed even through ten thousand kalpas. In the Way of the Elixir, it is called true intent—the Elixir seed needed for alchemical practice.

While an infant is in the womb, its breathing follows the mother’s; it does not yet breathe independently. Only when its Qi is sufficient and its body fully formed does a spark of numinous light enter the body, and the infant cry out as it comes into the world. The cultivation of the Golden Elixir works in the same way: one must settle true intent, gather a point of primordial Shen, and establish it in the central palace, the center of inner cultivation within the body. Then Jing condenses and Qi gathers, forming the embryo. From this point, one returns to the root and restores life, as though the transformations of the cosmos were held in one’s hands and the generation and transformation of life took place within oneself. Thus it is said, “Only where there is a thing can creation and transformation bring forth life.” This “thing” is what is whole and undifferentiated: the true seed, or the true intent of the central yellow.

If practitioners do not know how to establish this point in the central palace, the spirit chamber has no master. Even if Jing and Qi temporarily coalesce, they will eventually disperse, leaving the vessel as empty as a pot. Even if one tries to boil with Water and Fire, the Elixir cannot form without the Elixir seed of the great medicine. Thus the patriarchs said, “If the cauldron contains no true seed, it is like using Water and Fire to boil an empty pot.” This reminds practitioners how crucial the Elixir seed is.

There are many points here that are easy to confuse. Apart from the furnace and fire of Waidan (external alchemy), few heterodox schools understand what the true seed is. Some mistake ordinary Jing for the true seed; others mistake ordinary Qi for it; still others mistake the clear, seemingly numinous conscious mind—the discriminating awareness—for the true seed. The scripture criticizes this: “The root of birth and death through immeasurable kalpas—the foolish call it their original self.” If one has lost one’s original nature, where can one seek the true seed? Although this chapter discusses the true seed, it also encompasses the principles of the furnace and cauldron and the regulation of the fire.

Even if one recognizes cinnabar and black lead, without understanding the firing times, all one’s effort comes to nothing. Cultivating the Golden Elixir depends entirely on steady practice; even the slightest mistake can prevent the Elixir from forming.

This passage again explains that the key to refining the Golden Elixir lies entirely in the firing times. Those who study the Dao must first identify the true substances before they can use the two substances, Kan and Li: cinnabar refers to mercury in the Li trigram, and black lead to gold in the Kan trigram. Both are substances used in elixir refinement. Identifying them is not especially difficult; mastering the firing times is. The substances cannot develop without fire, and fire cannot accomplish anything without the substances. Simply knowing the substances without understanding the firing times will naturally bring little result.

The secret of the firing times lies in true intention: thoughts must not arise recklessly, for reckless thoughts make the fire too strong and fierce. The mind must not grow scattered either, or the fire will turn cold. During practice, one should keep thoughts from arising and the mind from scattering, while attending to movement and stillness, and to warmth and coolness, within. For this reason, mastering the firing times is harder than identifying the substances. The slightest mistake can bring about “lead flying and mercury fleeing” in an instant: the substances are lost and the work of refining and nurturing is ruined, so the Great Medicine may be lost in a moment.

What, then, do the firing times actually mean? The true fire is one’s own Shen (spirit); the true timing is one’s own breath. To refine the substances with fire and form the Golden Elixir is to use Shen to guide Qi (the vital energy of life, in Daoist teaching), thereby realizing the Great Dao. This is the true foundation of the firing times. Although this chapter focuses on the firing times, it also includes the substances and the furnace and vessel—the implements used in elixir refinement, or inner symbols of cultivation. The furnace and vessel, the substances, and the firing times are described as three things, but in practice they point to one and the same process of cultivation; these are simply names used for it. Without the ability to understand how they fit together, it is difficult to speak of Qi or realization of the Dao.

White light within darkness is the foundation of the elixir; the female hidden within the male is the Sacred Embryo, formed through the cultivation of the inner elixir. Taiyi, a Daoist term that here refers to the core Qi of inner refinement, resides in the furnace and vessel and must be guarded with care. When the precious Qi gathers in the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (energy centers), it corresponds to the Three Terraces, the name of a group of celestial stars.

This chapter says that the union of Kan and Li is the supreme treasure for refining the Golden Elixir. Earlier, the text discussed the crucible, the ingredients, and the firing process separately; here, it explains how they come together.

The secret of the ingredients lies in Kan and Li: within Kan’s darkness, white is concealed, signifying the presence of utmost Yang Qi; within Li’s Yang, Yin is hidden, signifying the presence of utmost Yin Qi. Kan and Li are the foundation of the Golden Elixir and the basis of the sacred embryo—the inner foundation formed through cultivation. Their union and fusion is called “Taiyi containing the true Qi”: true Qi joins and is held together as one. At this point, the true fire is already in the crucible.

At this stage, the practitioner need only use the natural true fire: knowing the dark yet holding to the white, knowing the strong yet holding to the yielding, and sustaining the practice continuously without forgetting it or deliberately forcing it to grow. In this way, original Jing naturally transforms into Qi, original Qi into Shen, and original Shen returns to emptiness and stillness. The body’s Three Treasures gather in the Three Dantian, the inner centers where Jing, Qi, and Shen are cultivated, corresponding to the three celestial stars known as the Three Platforms. This is the joining of the three and their return to unity, through which the Golden Elixir is formed.

“Amidst the hazy and indistinct, seek an image; within the deep and obscure, seek true Jing. From this, being and nonbeing enter one another of their own accord. If it has not yet appeared, how can you imagine it into being?”

This chapter also says that the two kinds of Qi, Kan and Li, must unite for the Golden Elixir to be refined. Without the union of these two, the great medicine of the Golden Elixir cannot take shape. The Dao De Jing says, “Indistinct and vague, yet within it there is something; dark and obscure, yet within it there is Jing.” The something within the indistinct is “being within nonbeing,” referring to Li’s true Yin. The Jing within the dark and obscure is “nonbeing within being,” referring to Kan’s true Yang.

To seek an image amidst the indistinct and to search for true Jing within the deep and obscure means that, without deliberate searching, the two can be brought together through the action of true intention and returned to the central Earth—the place in Neidan where things are harmonized. In this way, being and nonbeing merge.

Yet the indistinct and the dark and obscure describe states actually experienced in cultivation; they are not scenes invented by the imagination. The practitioner must experience and verify them directly before the great medicine can be refined. Without firsthand experience, relying on imagination alone is like trying to grasp the moon in water or look at flowers in a mirror: the great medicine of the Golden Elixir cannot be formed.

The eldest son (the Zhen trigram, symbolizing Yang Qi) has just drunk the wine of the West, while the young maiden (the Dui trigram, symbolizing Yin Qi) has only just blossomed in the northern garden. If you have not truly seen this and are relying only on imagination, how could it be anything but fishing for the moon in water or admiring flowers in a mirror? How, then, could you possibly refine the great medicine of the Golden Elixir?

The eldest son has just drunk the wine of the West, and the maiden has only just opened the flowers of the northern garden. Once the Azure Maiden (the maiden symbolizing Yin Qi) meets him, the two must immediately be locked together in the Yellow House (the central position, or the Central Yellow).

This chapter discusses the union of Metal and Wood and their congealing into the Golden Elixir. The Dao of the Elixir takes Water and Fire as its roots, and Metal and Wood as its workings. The Zhen trigram is the eldest son, symbolizing the Wood Fluid within the Li trigram—that is, the Dragon and Mercury. The Dui trigram is the maiden, symbolizing the Metal Essence within the Kan trigram—that is, the Tiger and Lead. In cultivation, one must guide the Dragon to meet the Tiger: the Wood Fluid within Li first arrives in the West, and the Metal Essence within Kan then emerges from the water to respond. Hence the saying: “The eldest son has just drunk the wine of the West, and the maiden has only just opened the flowers of the northern garden.”

This is the Qi at the moment when the Dragon and Tiger first respond to one another. The interval when the two kinds of Qi are about to meet but have not yet joined is extremely brief. One must use true intent (a settled and focused mind) to bring them into harmony and guide them back to their proper place at the Central Yellow. In this way, Metal and Wood unite and congeal into a pearl the size of a millet grain. Hence the saying: “Once the Azure Maiden meets him, the two must immediately be locked together in the Yellow House.” Here, “Azure” is the color of the East, “Maiden” symbolizes the young woman, and “meeting” is a metaphor for the beginning of the union between Zhen and Dui. From this point onward, the text describes methods for joining the two kinds of Qi into one and refining them into the Golden Elixir.

On Mount Huayue, the male tiger gives a long roar; beneath the sea of Fusang, the female dragon gives a low cry. The Yellow Matron (a symbol in Daoist internal alchemy for the harmonizing force at the center) will naturally bring them together, so that they become husband and wife, united in purpose and harmony.

This chapter further explains that when Metal and Wood meet and merge, a sacred embryo can form. Mount Huayue is the Western Peak; the West belongs to Metal and is associated with the number four. The tiger belongs to Yin, and the male tiger is Yang within Yin. Here it symbolizes true lead in the Kan trigram—that is, the nature of Metal. The Fusang Sea refers to the Eastern Sea; the East belongs to Wood and is associated with the number three. The dragon belongs to Yang, and the female dragon is Yin within Yang. Here it symbolizes true mercury in the Li trigram—that is, the nature of Wood. When the dragon cries, clouds rise; when the tiger roars, winds arise. The dragon and tiger meet like a couple coming together. Then the True Intention serves as the “Yellow Matron”—a Neidan term for the intention that harmonizes and brings Yin and Yang together—so that the nature of Wood and the nature of Metal unite as one and return to the Central Yellow, the central pivot in Neidan. From this, the sacred embryo takes shape. This, too, symbolizes the process of Golden Elixir cultivation.

The white tiger of the Western Mountain surges fiercely;

Even the azure dragon of the Eastern Sea cannot resist it.

With both hands, seize them and set them against each other;

In the end, they become a shower of purple-gold frost.

This chapter further explains that when Metal and Wood meet and merge, the great medicine can arise. The white tiger of the Western Mountain is the male tiger on Mount Huayue; its roar symbolizes the body’s difficulty to tame. The azure dragon of the Eastern Sea is the female dragon beneath the Fusang Sea; its cry symbolizes the mind’s difficulty to subdue. Only by using the True Intention to unite body and mind, making them wholly one, can one grasp the key to cultivation and bring the two into unity. The great medicine then arises and ultimately transforms on its own into “purple-gold frost,” an image symbolizing the achievement of the Golden Elixir. The meaning of this chapter is broadly similar to that of the previous one.

The red dragon and black tiger dwell in the east and west;

The Four Images meet within Wu and Ji.

From then on, one can work with the changing patterns of Fu and Gou;

Who, then, could say the Golden Elixir cannot be achieved?

This chapter concerns harmonizing and uniting the Four Images. The red dragon and black tiger are set in the east and west, symbolizing Yin and Yang each occupying its place. The Four Images meeting within Wu and Ji means that the central quality of Earth, represented by Wu and Ji, brings the forces from every direction into harmony and convergence. Fu and Gou are the names of hexagrams in the Book of Changes (Yijing); in Neidan cultivation, they often represent the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang and their cycles of coming and going. If one can thereby master the movement of Yin and Yang, the Golden Elixir may be successfully refined.

This chapter explains how to harmonize the Four Images and congeal the Golden Elixir. The previous chapters discussed the functions of Metal and Wood. On closer examination, Metal in the West, represented by the Dui trigram, originates in Water in the north, represented by Kan; Wood in the East, represented by Zhen, originates in Fire in the south, represented by Li. Thus, the functions of Metal and Wood already encompass the Four Images. That is why this chapter speaks not of the Azure Dragon and White Tiger, but of the Red Dragon and Black Tiger.

Kan contains Wu, and Li contains Ji. Wu and Ji together form the true Earth at the center. Harmonizing the Four Images and gathering them within this true Earth is what is meant by “spirit, essence, hun, po, and intention gather together and return to the Kun position.” From this, the great medicine that brings the Golden Elixir to completion is produced. From this point, a single Yang is reborn, and the Celestial Root stirs in the northeast; a single Yin begins to arise, and the Moon Cave draws inward in the southwest. When the original Qi of the two Yin-Yang arcs joins as one, is the work of the Golden Elixir not complete?

As the moon has just risen above the horizon and only half its bright disk is visible, the sounds of the Dragon’s roar and the Tiger’s howl have already appeared.

This is precisely the moment to practice: cultivate the “two eight” portions of Qi in each of the Yin-Yang arcs. Within a single double-hour, the Golden Elixir can be brought to completion.

This chapter explains how to gather the Qi of the Dragon and Tiger in the two arcs and use it to congeal the Golden Elixir. Everyone knows that the full moon on the fifteenth day symbolizes the Golden Elixir, but few may know that the moon reaches fullness through the joining of the Qi in its two arcs. This is what the Cantong qi means by “the two eights together make one catty.” The image of a half moon is also an image of the full moon: the upper arc corresponds to the Dui trigram and resembles the White Tiger; the lower arc corresponds to the Gen trigram and resembles the Azure Dragon. Here, the body and mind are aligned with the upper and lower arcs. When body and mind meet, it is like the Dragon’s roar and the Tiger’s howl. Then, with true intention—the focused, undistracted mind cultivated in practice—one subdues body and mind, joins the two arcs into a single Qi, and gathers it into the Kun Furnace, which symbolizes the vessel in which the elixir is nurtured. In less than a double-hour, the Golden Elixir is complete.

The preceding chapters all discuss harmonizing the Qi of the Dragon and Tiger in the two arcs to congeal the Golden Elixir. Saying that the elixir can be refined in less than a double-hour is a way of expressing the process simply and swiftly. In fact, the “double-hour” here is also symbolic, not a literal measure of time.

The Golden Elixir appears in full splendor and can be refined in a single day. The words left by the immortals of antiquity are indeed worthy of trust.

To say that it takes nine years or three years to refine it is merely to keep pushing the deadline further away.

This chapter discusses the mystery of the Golden Elixir, the attainment described in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy), and holds that the key to realizing the Great Dao can be grasped in a single day. The previous chapter said that gathering the Qi of the two arcs of the Dragon and Tiger—the refined essence produced by the union of Yin and Yang—and condensing it into the Golden Elixir could be accomplished in an instant. This shows that the way of the Golden Elixir is supremely simple and easy: even an ordinary person of dull ability can immediately transcend the ordinary and become a sage, provided they truly understand it.

Sadly, people do not understand the simplicity of the Great Dao. They are also misled by statements in the alchemical scriptures about “three years” and “nine years.” Their doubts remain unresolved, and instead they take this as a reason to belittle themselves and put off cultivation, wasting their lives. They do not know that the key to obtaining the Elixir is in fact exceedingly simple. An ancient immortal said, “The original true nature is called the Golden Elixir; the four borrowed things serve as the furnace in which it is refined into a whole.” Since the Golden Elixir is the true nature people already possess—their original nature of mind—those with keen understanding can grasp this at once. Once they let go of body and mind, without being tainted or entangled by external things, their mind becomes open and clear, and their true nature naturally appears. When true nature is restored, the very foundation of life is contained within it.

When “gold” returns to its original nature, it is called the “Returned Elixir.” Hence the saying, “The radiant Golden Elixir is completed in a single day.” This is precisely what Bodhidharma meant by “With a single thought, turn back the mechanism, and it is as if you have regained what was yours from the beginning”—turning back to one’s original mind in a single thought is like recovering what one always possessed. It is also the state Confucius described to Yan Hui: “If for one day you master yourself and return to ritual, all under Heaven will return to benevolence.” This is the crucial point that directs one straight to the root, and the transmission of the heart teaching passed down by sages through the ages. It is not only the teaching of the ancient immortals; it also reflects the common ground of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. Those who study and cultivate should understand and take up this teaching here and now.

If someone begins by saying that cultivation takes three or nine years, that is merely an excuse by those of duller disposition to put things off and waste their time. How could it be a definitive statement? They do not understand that once true nature appears, there is nothing left to put off or delay.

Why, then, do the alchemical scriptures speak of “three years” and “nine years”? It is because the principle must be suddenly awakened to, just as a child is born with a complete body; the actual work, however, must be cultivated gradually, just as becoming an adult takes many years. Even if the accumulated work of cultivation ultimately takes three or nine years, why should that prevent the root from being suddenly complete in a single day? Those with keen understanding should begin directly from this point.

Some may wonder: the previous chapter said that it could be completed in “one moment”; why does this chapter say “one day”? In fact, “one moment” and “one day” are both metaphors. What matters is understanding the subtlety of sudden awakening, which gathers all things into a single instant. One may call a moment a day, or a month an hour; these expressions of time are not fixed.

Tap the bamboo tube lightly to summon the tortoise, symbolizing the true Yang within Kan, and have it swallow the jade fungus, symbolizing the true Yin within Li. Pluck the zither strings to summon the phoenix, symbolizing the true Yin within Li, and let it drink the small measure of cinnabar, symbolizing the true Yang within Kan.

Recently, a golden radiance has appeared throughout the body during cultivation. This method of cultivation is not something to explain to ordinary people.

This chapter further describes the signs that appear when the Golden Elixir has been successfully formed. The previous chapter said that the Golden Elixir can be refined in a single day, which sounds remarkably easy and nothing out of the ordinary. Yet the signs of its formation are suitable to discuss only with wise people; they are difficult to explain to those of the world. The author therefore uses symbols to express them, drawing throughout on the images of Kan and Li.

Bamboo is hollow. The tortoise symbolizes the Black Tortoise of the north, one of the Four Images in Daoism, and serves as a metaphor for the true Yang within Kan. The jade fungus represents the true Yin within Li, also called “mercury within cinnabar.” The zither is an instrument for harmonizing musical tones and represents the Yellow Woman, symbolizing the true intention that harmonizes Yin and Yang. The phoenix represents the Vermilion Bird of the south and serves as a metaphor for the true Yin within Li. The small measure of cinnabar represents the true Yang within Kan, also called “silver within water.”

In alchemical practice, the true intention of the central palace is primary. First, let go of all distracting thoughts, settle into stillness, and turn inward in contemplation. Then, suddenly summon the true Yang within Kan and let it meet with the true Yin within Li. Next, use true intention to harmonize and draw in the true Yin within Li, allowing it to unite naturally with the true Yang within Kan and condense into a single Qi—the primordial Qi of the precelestial state. Hence the saying: “Tap the bamboo to summon the tortoise to swallow the jade fungus; play the zither to summon the phoenix to drink the small measure of cinnabar.”

The forces of Kan and Li unite and form the Golden Elixir. From then on, the interior becomes full and radiance appears; the mind grows settled and light shines forth. Golden, precious light streams through the body from head to foot, seeming naturally to illuminate Heaven and Earth and encompass the cosmos. How could ordinary people glimpse such a state? Their minds are full of doubt and their hearts clogged with deluded thoughts. What use would it be to explain it to them? Hence the saying: “Recently, golden light has appeared throughout the body; I do not discuss this method with ordinary people.” This is a genuine sign of successful Golden Elixir cultivation, not something that people may casually claim on the basis of an illusion conjured from nothing. The Patriarch therefore offered this solemn warning and praise.

In the crescent-moon furnace, jade-colored blossoms emerge; in the cinnabar cauldron, mercury settles level: A crescent-shaped furnace gives rise to jade-colored flower buds, while the mercury within the cinnabar cauldron comes to rest.

The true efficacy described in the alchemical method cannot be lightly claimed on the basis of the world’s various delusions and illusory visions. For this reason, the patriarchs offered especially solemn admonitions and praise.

In the Crescent-Moon Furnace, which symbolizes the Jade Pool, a jade pistil appears; within the Cinnabar Tripod, which symbolizes the Golden Tripod, mercury returns to balance. When the firing process is properly regulated, the Yellow Sprout—the symbol of the first emergence of the true medicine in Neidan cultivation—will gradually grow.

This chapter explains how Yin and Yang return to unity, thereby producing the medicine needed to form the Elixir. The preceding chapters say that when the Qi of the two arcs, symbolizing the two forces of Yin and Yang, join as one, the great medicine of the Golden Elixir is produced. But if the firing process is not properly managed, the great medicine will not readily form.

The Crescent-Moon Furnace is the Jade Pool. The jade pistil refers to the true Yang within Kan, also called “silver in water.” The Cinnabar Tripod is the Golden Tripod. Mercury refers to the true Yin within Li, also called “mercury within cinnabar.” Neither may predominate; the key is to maintain balance. Harmonizing Yin and Yang depends entirely on proper control of the firing process: in cultivation, one must let no thoughts arise and allow the mind to remain undistracted. Once the firing process reaches maturity, the true seed will emerge naturally. In an instant, the Yellow Sprout gradually grows, as though breaking through the soil. The gentle nurturing of the fire during the medicine’s formation therefore calls for careful attention.

Do not fixate on the furnace and its implements and waste your effort. In refining the medicine, seek the practice within the Crescent-Moon Furnace. The natural firing process will arise of itself, so why rely on firewood, charcoal, and bellows?

This chapter explains the true timing of the fire to be mastered when the medicine is being produced. The previous chapter mentioned the furnace and the cauldron together; here it speaks directly of the “Reclining-Moon Furnace,” referring to the moment when the Great Medicine is about to form and the first Yang has just stirred.

Why is it called the “Reclining-Moon Furnace”? The true Yang within the Kan trigram and the true Yin within the Li trigram naturally join. Shen and Qi remain together, while the breath flows continuously back to its root. This is like the sun and moon meeting and becoming one at the end and beginning of the lunar month. The moon’s essence receives the sun’s spirit and conceives; on the third day of the month, a new crescent appears in the geng direction, and the nature of Metal takes on the form of a reclining moon. In the images of the trigrams, this corresponds to “Zhen, the upturned bowl.” It also symbolizes the first stirring of Yang and the breath returning to its root: the true sign that the Great Medicine has entered the furnace.

Only by focusing on emptiness and maintaining clarity and stillness, until stillness reaches its utmost, can this moment arrive. It has nothing to do with impure substances acquired after birth, with constructing furnaces and stoves by human effort, or with inventing various methods of cultivation. Hence the saying: “Do not cling to the alchemical stove and waste your effort; to refine the medicine, seek the Reclining-Moon Furnace.”

Once the true medicine has formed, it must be refined with true fire. True fire is nothing other than letting the breath flow continuously back to its root, without a single thought arising or the attention scattering, while waiting for the true seed to transform and grow of itself. No extraneous substances are needed to assist it, and no strenuous contrivance is required. Hence the saying: “Nature itself provides the true timing of the fire; why add firewood and charcoal or blow upon the flames?”

This chapter follows directly from the previous one. It explains the moment when the medicine is produced, so that practitioners learn to recognize the right time and apply the fire.

After the front bow, before the rear bow,

the medicine is balanced in flavor, its signs complete.

After gathering it, place it in the furnace to refine and nourish;

once refined, gently nurture it, as when cooking fresh fish.

After the great Golden Elixir medicine has entered the furnace, it must still be gently warmed and nourished over time. The previous passage mentioned that to refine the medicine one must seek the “Reclining Moon Furnace”—the furnace used in alchemy, which the text also uses as a metaphor for a state in which body and mind are joined. Here it further explains that the Yin-Yang Qi symbolized by the two lunar crescents, the front and the rear, is precisely the great Golden Elixir medicine.

The “front crescent” refers to the waxing moon, and the “rear crescent” to the waning moon. The waxing moon corresponds to Metal and is called “half a jin of Metal”: black with white within. The waning moon corresponds to Water and is called “half a jin of Water”: white with black within. White represents Metal essence; black represents the foundation of Water. The waxing moon’s image of light is black in front and white behind, while the waning moon’s is white in front and black behind. In each, the white portion occupies half the disk. “The rear of the front crescent, the front of the rear crescent” means drawing Metal out of Water. The two half-disks join to form a full disk. Yin and Yang Qi are brought into balance, the moon’s image becomes whole, and the medicine is thereby formed.

Once the medicine has been gathered, return it to the Reclining Moon Furnace for refinement and gentle nourishment. Do not rush: neither force the process nor neglect it, but let the practice continue steadily without interruption. When the firing process reaches its proper stage, the great medicine will naturally mature. The Laozi says, “Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish.” This means that governing a great state is like cooking a small fish: one must not keep turning it or act in haste. The text invokes this saying to explain that refinement and nourishment, too, must follow the proper firing process.

Ultimately, the two crescents above and below refer to body and mind. Using true intent—a focused and tranquil awareness—to harmonize body and mind until they become one is the work of refinement. In awareness, forgetting awareness and not clinging to intent is the work of gentle nourishment. Do not add further elaborations beyond these explanations. This passage describes how to tend the fire as the medicine forms, and should be understood together with the “bathing at Mao and You” described below.

“The months and times of the Rabbit and Rooster: when the appointed influence reaches the gate, the image of the medicine appears.” The Rabbit and Rooster correspond respectively to Mao and You. This line says that when the corresponding days and firing conditions of Mao and You arrive, the image of the medicine will appear. “The appointed influence reaches the gate” uses the language of divination to describe the arrival of the corresponding season and Qi.

“At this stage, the Golden Elixir should be bathed; if fire is added still, it will surely be endangered.” At this stage, the Golden Elixir should be “bathed”: in other words, stop adding fire and allow the medicine’s Qi to rest and harmonize. If the fire is continued, refinement and nourishment may become excessive, leading to danger and failure.

This chapter discusses the practice of “bathing” in Golden Elixir cultivation: gathering the mind at critical moments and maintaining single-minded focus. The previous chapter spoke only of nourishing and warming, but bathing was already implicit in that practice. Here, the text further explains the meanings of “the two uses of Mao and You” and “the union of Punishment and Virtue,” showing that bathing is indispensable.

In the language of symbolic correspondences, the second and eighth months of the year, and the Mao and You hours of the day, can all mark the times for bathing. But one must not cling rigidly to these symbols. Mao corresponds to the Hare, and You to the Rooster. At Mao hour, the Wood fluid is flourishing, at a time when Yin is present within Yang. Metal is concealed within Wood, so restraint accompanies the force of life; this is called “Punishment within Virtue.” At You hour, the Metal essence is flourishing, at a time when Yang is present within Yin. Wood is concealed within Metal, so the force that brings things to an end also contains the force of life; this is called “Virtue within Punishment.”

The two forces of “Punishment” and “Virtue” meet in an instant. This is the moment called “the Great Medicine entering the furnace and the Golden Elixir congealing.” When the Elixir is about to congeal but has not yet done so, life and restraint coexist, and the outcome remains uncertain. This is the most precarious point: if one obtains the medicine in time, Punishment turns into Virtue; if it slips away even for a moment, Virtue can turn into Punishment. At this stage of cultivation, one must cleanse the mind, set aside distractions, and remain free of wandering thoughts and scattered intent. Only through such steady practice can the Great Medicine complete itself naturally. If even the slightest distracting thought arises, one may lose this pristine state and invite danger.

The method of bathing is simply to entrust one’s mind to emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action). The practice lasts only an instant. “Mao and You” are merely symbols for the moment when one should remain empty, still, and steadfast. This is a crucial point in Golden Elixir cultivation; without direct instruction from a true master, its subtlety is difficult to grasp.

Ou Yezi transmitted the sword-forging method directly. Mo Xie brought Metal and Water into harmony, joining hardness with softness.

Once forged, the precious sword seems able to understand a person’s intentions. It can vanquish demons and malevolent forces a thousand miles away in a flash like lightning.

This chapter explains the role of the “Wisdom Sword” in Golden Elixir cultivation and says that it must be practiced together with the “bathing” method described in the previous chapter. The Patriarch uses the visible swords of the world as a metaphor for the invisible Wisdom Sword of the Elixir Way.

A sword is forged by tempering it with metal and water; likewise, forming the Elixir depends on the work of Metal and Water. Here, “Metal and Water” refer to two complementary forms of true Qi: one firm, the other yielding. Joined together, they congeal into the Elixir, just as the famous swords Gan Jiang and Mo Ye, paired together, make a treasured blade. How to use these two forms of true Qi must be passed on directly, from master to student. This is like the secret method of sword forging being taught by Ou Yezi. Hence the verse: “Ou Yezi personally passed on the way of forging swords; Mo Ye’s Metal and Water joined the yielding with the firm.”

Once the two forms of true Qi have joined and congealed, they must be tempered further with true fire in the Kun furnace, the vessel that symbolizes refinement and nurture. In the end, they transform into a single Qi. This is called a “sword sharp enough to split a hair,” also known as the “Wisdom Sword.” The image of a blade that must not be touched lest one lose one’s life expresses the need to treat this power with utmost care.

“Knowing the mind’s intent” is crucial. “Intent” refers to the true sovereign within the Central Yellow region: the inner directing awareness. The scripture presents intent and sword as one: intent is the sword, and the sword is intent. It is both close at hand and able to reach ten thousand miles away. When the Great Medicine enters the furnace for refinement, if Yin demons—dark thoughts or obstacles that disturb the mind during cultivation—intrude, they need only be struck down with the Wisdom Sword to be dispelled. Hence the verse: “Once refined, one will know the mind’s intent; demons ten thousand miles away are slain in a flash of lightning.” The first two lines describe the Wisdom Sword’s nature; the last two describe its function.

This does not mean that there is literally a Wisdom Sword to wield, or that there are real demons to slay. The Wisdom Sword is still a glimmer of innate spiritual light. To “slay demons” means to notice a thought as soon as it arises, use right intention to dispel wrong thoughts, and maintain sincerity and integrity. Lü Zu said that he had three swords, which severed desire, affliction, and delusion. He, too, was referring to this Wisdom Sword.

Only by harmonizing the true Yang lead within Kan with the true Yin mercury within Li can one refine the Golden Elixir. The two may appear unequal in quantity, but when the true intent harmonizes them and brings the Yin and Yang energies into balance, they unite as one. This is true lead, unlike ordinary lead and mercury in the world.

Where does true lead come from? It is the true Yang energy within Kan. The commentary explains this process through the movements of the sun and moon: at the transition from the end of the lunar month to the new moon, the sun and moon come together. On the third day, the crescent first appears, like a golden toad exhaling light, symbolizing the emergence of the great medicine of the Golden Elixir. “Western River” refers to metal within water: the West corresponds to Metal, and a river to water, so metal within water is true lead. “Shining all day” means that the Golden Elixir’s light appears and its effects are complete.

This occurs at the same stage of cultivation described in the preceding chapters. Only after nurturing and bathing the elixir, and wielding the “Wisdom Sword”—an inner practice that cuts through distracting thoughts—is the refinement of the Golden Elixir complete. Once the Golden Elixir is formed and Yang energy first arises, one can gather the medicine and refine it further to form the Great Restoration Elixir.

On the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month, the moon is full, and the essence of Metal—the refined vital essence spoken of in alchemy—is at its height. When a single Yang energy begins to return, one should promptly advance the fire—that is, apply the firing times according to alchemical methods—and not delay.

This chapter discusses the moment when the “Great Medicine” is about to form and the essentials of acting in time. The earlier line, “The moonlight shines all day over the western river,” refers to “gold within water,” or the “Essence of Metal” mentioned here.

The moon’s two sides gradually grow full until they join as a round moon: the full moon on the fifteenth day. The eighth lunar month corresponds to the You month, and Metal flourishes in You. The scripture therefore uses the especially bright light of the Mid-Autumn moon to describe how, after Kan and Li unite, the Essence of Metal appears within water and the Great Medicine is about to form. “On the fifteenth night of the eighth month, delight in the moon’s glow: this is when the Essence of Metal is at its strongest” describes the flourishing of the Essence of Metal. Its appearance is also called the “living Zi hour,” signifying that the time to gather the medicine has arrived. The scripture compares this to the first Yang arising within pure Kun, explaining that as soon as Yang begins to return, one must immediately begin gathering it, laying the foundation for refining the Returning Elixir. Hence the lines: “When the first Yang returns and begins to rise, advance the fire without delay.”

As soon as the first Yang stirs, it is time to refine the Elixir. The breath in the Lead cauldron is gentle, and its light shines within the chamber.

When this Qi is first received, things tend toward good fortune and ease. But afterward, when adding to and drawing from the medicine and turning the fire’s timing, one must proceed with care to avoid danger.

This chapter explains that when gathering the medicine and refining the elixir, one must guard against danger and proceed with care. “Gold is born in water” refers to the first stirring of Yang, the living Zi hour within the body—the moment when Yang energy first arises in Neidan practice. At this point the medicinal sprout has only just emerged and is still tender, so it must be gathered in time and refined. Lü Zu’s words, “The lead cauldron grows gently warm; its light shines through the curtains,” describe precisely this moment. The poem therefore says: “As soon as Yang stirs, it is time to refine the elixir; the lead cauldron grows warm, and its light illuminates the curtains.”

At this time, the practitioner should promptly advance the fire—setting the inner Qi in motion according to the firing times—and guide it through orderly rises and descents. The firing times move between floating and sinking, between mature and tender, so exceptional care is essential. With care, the medicine can be obtained in an instant: this is “receiving Qi brings good fortune.” Without care, what has been gained may be lost in a moment: this is “guard against what leads to misfortune.” Hence the saying: “When Qi is first obtained, it is easy to turn toward good fortune; when drawing out and replenishing, and setting the fire in motion, one must guard against danger.”

“Drawing out and replenishing” means drawing out lead and adding mercury—that is, the work of gathering the medicine. “Setting the fire in motion” means raising and lowering the firing times to refine the medicine. The previous chapter explained that the fire should be advanced when the first stirring of Yang is sensed; this chapter continues by describing what to do once the fire has been advanced. The two chapters follow one another like pearls strung on a thread, and readers should attend to their continuity.

The sun and moon complete one meeting every three xun (about thirty days). By using the hours in place of days, one carries out the wondrous practice.

One must understand both how to defend a city and how to fight in the open field in order to distinguish good fortune from misfortune. As the numinous cinnabar—the refined essence obtained through cultivation—accumulates, the cauldron appears full and bright red.

The “Mysterious Pearl,” a term in Neidan cultivation for the great medicine or the Elixir body, gradually appears as Yang Qi stirs into motion. When Yang Qi reaches its height, Yin Qi begins to recede, and the Pearl’s form slowly comes into view.

By the tenth lunar month, at the time of Frost Descent, the Elixir is considered complete. The changes manifested through this cultivation are then enough to astonish even spirits and ghosts.

This chapter describes the signs that appear when the Golden Elixir sheds its embryo. The “numinous cinnabar” mentioned in the previous chapter refers to the great medicine of the Golden Elixir, that is, the primordial Qi from before Heaven. It must be obtained when one has reached profound stillness, with no distracting thoughts, in a state of natural Wuwei (non-action). As the Zhuangzi puts it, “The dark pearl of the Red River was obtained through the formless”: the dark pearl is gained from what has no form or image and cannot be grasped.

After obtaining the great medicine, one must still undertake the practices of gathering the medicine, cooking and refining it, and nurturing it. “Defending the city” and “fighting in the open field” are metaphors in Neidan (internal alchemy): they refer to guarding body and mind and subduing Yin influences, so that cultivation can deepen step by step. When the work is complete, all Yin withdraws, revealing the pure Yang aspect of “Qianyuan.” The Golden Elixir then separates from its embryonic body and rises to the Qian cauldron, a vessel symbolizing pure Yang; the foundation of transformation is thereby established. This gives rise to the signs described as “frost falling in the tenth month, the embryo perfected and the Elixir ripe,” a metaphor for the Elixir embryo reaching maturity and emerging from its body.

“Ghosts” refers to Yin spirits, and “spirits” to Yang spirits. When the primordial pearl manifests its form, it transcends Yin-Yang transformation, and neither ghosts nor spirits can discern its inner workings; they are therefore astonished. Note that the Golden Elixir shedding its embryo is not the same as the Reverted Elixir shedding its embryo. In the case of the Golden Elixir, Yang Qi reaches its height as Yin Qi recedes, symbolized by shedding the embryo in the tenth month. In the case of the Reverted Elixir, Yang first arises after Yin Qi has reached its height, at the moment when the first Yang stirs. This distinction must be made clear. A further stage of work follows, in which the furnace and cauldron are set up again and Heaven and Earth are remade; this too must be understood.

After drinking in the Jade Pool, under the clear moon, one rides a golden dragon to the Purple Tenuity Palace in Heaven. From then on, one becomes acquainted with the immortals. Even if the seas turn into fields and mountains become deep valleys, one remains untouched as the world undergoes its transformations.

This chapter further explains that the Golden Elixir can make life endure. The previous chapter says that after ten months of cultivation, one is born anew. This means that the great medicine of the Golden Elixir has risen from the Kun Furnace, which symbolizes the vessel of Kun Yin, into the Qian Cauldron, which symbolizes the vessel of Qian Yang. The Jade Pool is where the Queen Mother of the West resides; here it symbolizes the Kun Furnace. The Purple Tenuity Enclosure is a place of supreme honor in the heavens; here it symbolizes the Qian Cauldron.

The wondrous efficacy of the Golden Elixir hinges on the primordial Qi that precedes Heaven and Earth—the original energy from which they arise. When this primordial Qi first arrives, Yin and Yang energies mingle, as though one had ascended to the Jade Pool and drunk its nectar. Thus it is said, “Those who obtain it are often as if drunk.” When the Golden Essence is abundant and the toad’s light is full, the great medicine of the Golden Elixir emerges from the Kun Furnace and rises into the Qian Cauldron. A thread of Yang energy from within the Earth reaches directly to the Nine Heavens, just as the scene evokes: “After drinking at the Jade Pool, beneath the clear moonlight, ride a golden dragon to pay homage at Purple Tenuity.”

When the Golden Elixir rises to the Heavenly Valley and Niwan, a site of cultivation within the head, it is as though one has arrived at the Lofty Terrace of Yuluo and the sacred realm of Jade Clarity. The spirits throughout the body gather there, as if one were meeting the immortals of the Great Luo realm in that very moment. Even if the vast sea becomes farmland, mulberry fields become sea, high banks turn into valleys, and deep valleys rise into hills, my original spirit will never be born or destroyed and will remain unchanged. Only then can one believe that the Supreme One’s words, “The spirit of the valley never dies,” are true. The previous chapter says that cultivation can stir the spirits and ghosts; this chapter says that all the immortals gather together. From this we can see how wondrous is the efficacy of the Golden Elixir in establishing one’s life.

Do not resort to clever contrivances and waste your effort; recognize “the deathless formula of the other household”—a figurative name for the method of refining the Golden Elixir and making life endure.

Keep adding life-prolonging wine to the pot, and gather soul-restoring draught in the cauldron. Here, wine and draught are metaphors for the vital essence and elixir produced and accumulated through cultivation. The image expresses how Golden Elixir cultivation prolongs life and restores the spirit.

This chapter summarizes the entire process of Golden Elixir cultivation and, from there, introduces the role of “returning the Elixir”—the cultivation process of refining and nourishing Jing, Qi, and Shen so they return to their original state. The previous chapter’s passage about entering the Jade Pool to drink jade nectar refers to the “formula for immortality.”

“Hejia” (“the other’s home”) here refers to life, which occupies the guest position in cultivation; “I” refers to nature, which occupies the host position. Daoist Neidan commonly uses the terms host and guest to explain the relationship between nature and life. Practitioners cultivate life first and nature afterward, so they must begin with the “external medicine,” temporarily placing “the other” as host and “I” as guest. This reversal of the host and guest positions is the key point of cultivation discussed in this chapter.

Working the body in vain through rubbing, massage, and guided exercises, or practicing breath cultivation and eating the rosy clouds, are merely artificial minor techniques and cannot achieve the goal. Only the “primordial Qi from before Heaven,” arising from emptiness and regarded as the Qi of the original state, is unconstrained by the body and acquired Qi and can transcend life and death. Hence the saying: “Do not employ clever, artificial methods in pursuit of results; recognize ‘the other’s home’ as the formula for immortality.”

When the great medicine is about to form and is gathered into the vessel, this is called “returning to the root and restoring life”: it can revive a life foundation that has already withered and prolong one’s lifespan. When the “single Yang” first arises, rises anew, and enters the Yellow Court—an important inner region of the body in Daoist Neidan—this is called “returning to the source and restoring the original.” It gathers in spiritual awareness that has dispersed and enables the soul to return. Hence the saying: “The vessel is continually filled with wine that prolongs life; the cauldron gathers the nectar that calls back the soul.” The vessel and cauldron are symbolic containers in Neidan. Only after the cultivation that reverses the host and guest positions is complete can one be said to have mastered the function of the Golden Elixir; the practice of returning the Elixir begins from this point. To mistake “the other’s home” for bedroom arts of collecting and replenishing is to stray into a heterodox path, a grave offense.

In the Snow Mountain is pure, fine cream of the finest milk, often used as a metaphor for something refined. Pour it into the furnace of transformation in the eastern sun. If one can cross the Kunlun Mountains and travel northwest, only then can Zhang Qian encounter Magu.

This chapter describes the effects of the Golden Elixir. The “life-prolonging wine” and “soul-restoring brew” mentioned earlier are both proof of the wondrous efficacy of the great Golden Elixir medicine. Yet it must still undergo fierce refinement in the furnace before the Elixir of Return can be formed; otherwise, the work of refining the elixir through nine cycles remains incomplete. In the end, the wondrous effects of the Elixir of Return depend on “Metal within Water,” so it is likened to “a single flavor of ghee.”

The Nirvana Sutra says: “On Snow Mountain there is a powerful white ox that eats rich grass and excretes nothing but ghee, with none of the colors green, yellow, red, white, or black.” Snow Mountain represents the Metal direction; the white ox represents the pure white nature of Metal. “A single flavor of ghee” refers to the prenatal One Qi—the primordial vital energy formed before birth—that comes from emptiness. It is also Metal within Water. The nature of Metal is pure and unstained, unmixed with anything else, firm and complete. It first arises in the Geng direction, which corresponds to the west, then turns from west to east and ascends to the Qian position, the trigram direction representing Heaven. From there it is drawn into the Yellow Court, the bodily site where Neidan is cultivated, gathered, and refined. Is this not like the great furnace of Heaven and Earth’s transformations? At this stage, the life-prolonging wine and soul-restoring brew are both transformed into ghee, becoming one supreme flavor. Hence the verse: “Snow Mountain’s single flavor of fine ghee, poured into the eastern sun, makes Creation jealous.”

These expressions still use the symbols of the Golden Elixir. Once the great Golden Elixir medicine enters the furnace of transformation, at the true Zi hour—the crucial moment within the Zi hour when Yin and Yang shift—the River Chariot turns. The practitioner gathers the fire, carries the Metal, and refines it fiercely. The medicine rises to the Kunlun summit, the inner bodily height reached by ascending Qi; Qian and Kun meet, Yin and Yang unite, and the free-flowing state symbolized by the Tai hexagram takes shape. After this refinement, the liquid Metal falls back into the Yellow Court, and only then is the sacred embryo complete. Hence the verse: “Only after passing beyond Kunlun to the northwest did Zhang Qian come at last to see Magu.”

These lines describe the symbolism of the Great Elixir of Return. Zhang Qian was a man in legend who sought the source of the Yellow River, while Magu was an immortal maiden. It is said that Zhang Qian traveled upstream on a raft to the river’s source and saw Magu only after crossing the summit of Kunlun. The story here evokes the imagery of cultivation that reverses Heaven and Earth and turns Yin and Yang back upon themselves; there is no need to search for a deeper meaning.

The flickering firelight within Kan water is stirred at the point where Metal and Water meet. The fire rises from Kunlun—here, a part of the body or a point reached by the movement of Qi during cultivation—and Yin-Yang changes along with it.

When the two medicines can be united as one, the Elixir is naturally refined. The whole body becomes clear and open, as if giving off fragrance.

This chapter gives an overall account of the inner and outer medicines joining to form the Great Return Elixir. The substance used in Golden Elixir cultivation is Metal within Water, also called “the primal Qi of Heaven Before,” the original energy born before Heaven. It comes from emptiness. “Kan’s lightning” is a metaphor for fire within water. Bai Ziqing says that creation and transformation make no sound, and that the fire within water is stirred at the “Cavity of Emptiness and Danger,” a site named in Daoist internal alchemy practice. “The direction of Metal and Water” also refers to this cavity. From here arise the refining fire, like a cauldron at work, and vibrations like thunder. The practitioner gathers the Qi of nascent Yang and guides it back into the Qian cauldron, an inner organ or vessel symbolizing the alchemical furnace, where it condenses into the Golden Elixir. These processes describe the outer medicine.

At the exact hour of Zi, when Yang first stirs, fierce fire is applied to refine it, carrying Metal upward to the summit of Kunlun. As Qi is renewed by nascent Yang, it gradually rises through the six Yang lines to become Qian; then, as nascent Yin arises at Gou, it gradually descends through the six Yin lines to become Kun. The phrase “When Qian and Kun have joined, a single point falls into the Yellow Court” describes the inner medicine. The inner and outer medicines now become one. After further warming and nurturing, the Return Elixir matures; the practitioner feels clear and open throughout the body, with fragrance seeming to arise from every part. The scripture describes this change as “stripping away the many Yin to become pure Yang, and touching the ordinary body to form the sacred embryo”: Yin energy is entirely removed, returning to pure Yang, and the sacred embryo—the realized body spoken of in internal alchemy—takes shape within the ordinary body. This chapter explains how the inner and outer medicines unite to form the Golden Liquid Return Elixir; the next chapter discusses warming and nurturing.

To understand how to refine and nurture the Return Elixir, one must sow and cultivate within one’s own home, meaning the body and mind. There is no need to strain or force the process. Let things follow their natural course, and the fruit will ripen and form the numinous embryo. This chapter describes the continued warming and nurturing of the sacred embryo after the Return Elixir has entered the cauldron.

This chapter explains how to nurture the sacred embryo after the Reverted Elixir has entered the cauldron. “After Heaven and Earth have joined” means that Yin and Yang have united. When a single seed of truth falls into the “Yellow Court,” the Daoist inner-refinement site within the human body, it becomes the Great Reverted Elixir. After intense refinement, one must promptly use gentle nurturing to protect it.

There is no special, ingenious method for this nurturing. The key is to guard and continually nourish it within oneself; this is how the seed of truth is nurtured. The entire practice depends on the “true breath”: breathing should be natural and calm, without deliberately forgetting it or straining to make it grow. Let it develop on its own, like a dragon guarding a pearl or a hen brooding over an egg. This is the natural true fire. Let the true fire burn steadily and enduringly, without deliberately fanning it; let its movement continue without interruption, without forcing it onward. When the practice reaches the right stage, sustained without a break, the embryo will naturally emerge and the spirit will transform. This passage describes gently nurturing the Reverted Elixir, complementing the refinement practice discussed earlier.

Before the Reverted Elixir has been formed, one should devote oneself to cultivation. Once it has been formed, one must know when to stop.

If one continues to seek increase, never satisfied until everything is full, sooner or later one will fall into hardship and suffer humiliation.

This chapter explains that once the Reverted Elixir has been formed, one should protect it through the Dao of Wuwei (non-action). “Action” means deliberate cultivation used to complete the cultivation of life. “Non-action” means abiding in things as they are, used to cultivate nature. The practice of refining the Reverted Elixir is precisely for completing the work on life. If the foundation of the elixir is already full and one still clings to the desire for more, sooner or later one will encounter hardship and humiliation.

This chapter says that once the Reverted Elixir—the elixir formed through Neidan cultivation—has been refined, it should be guarded through Wuwei (non-action): without deliberate effort, allowing things to follow their natural course. Deliberate cultivation completes the work of cultivating life; Wuwei completes the cultivation of nature. Refining the Reverted Elixir is precisely the work of fulfilling life. Until the foundation of the elixir has been established, one cannot yet take charge of one’s own nature and life. Hence the saying: “Before the Reverted Elixir is refined, one should hasten to cultivate it.”

However subtle a method of cultivation may be, it still involves deliberate effort and has not yet returned to the natural state. It is like a raft used to cross a river: once you reach the other shore, you should set the raft down and turn to directly seeing your original nature. Hence the saying: “Even after it is refined, one must know when to stop.” If, after obtaining the Reverted Elixir, one continues seeking outside oneself and refuses to rest, manipulating Jing and Shen through deliberate practices and searching for methods, it is like reaching the shore by boat but being unwilling to let go of the raft. This shows not only that the cultivation of nature remains incomplete and liberation is difficult, but also that one cannot enjoy the treasure of life already attained. Hence the saying: “If one clings to fullness and refuses to stop, one will eventually suffer hardship and humiliation.”

Before the Reverted Elixir is formed, failing to understand Lower De—the use of deliberate methods in cultivation—can lead one into empty talk. After it is formed, failing to understand Higher De—the use of Wuwei in cultivation—leads one to cling to the outward forms of deliberate effort. Thus, the work of fulfilling life must also attend to the fulfillment of nature.

“Bi and Tai pass through the fullness of the myriad things; Zhun and Meng receive the trigrams and uphold generation and growth.” Bi, Tai, Zhun, and Meng are names of hexagrams in the Classic of Changes. The lines invoke these hexagrams to show how Yin-Yang transformations set the myriad things in motion, filling the world and bringing them into being.

“Once you grasp the meaning here, you must forget the images; if you probe every line, you merely exhaust your mind and spirit.” To understand the principle, one should leave behind the hexagrams and the outward forms of words. Fixating on the meaning of each line only wastes one’s mental and spiritual energy.

This chapter explains the subtle use of the firing process; one must not be constrained by the hexagram images. The preceding chapters discuss the function of the Great Returning Elixir, an important stage in internal alchemy, and also touch on the firing process. The images used to describe this process can be confirmed only through the Xiyi, the study of the Changes based on the hexagrams of Fuxi: the Former Heaven system establishes its foundation through the positions of the hexagrams, while the Later Heaven system explains their function through the interaction between them.

When Qian is above and Kun below, they do not meet, forming the Obstruction hexagram. When Kun is above and Qian below, they meet, forming the Peace hexagram. The union of Qian and Kun marks the moment when obstruction gives way to peace. At that point, the sequence of advancing Yang Fire and withdrawing Yin Tally completes a full circuit in an instant, encompassing all the changes symbolized by the various hexagrams and their lines.

In the sequence of the Zhouyi, the hexagrams after Qian and Kun are Zhun and Meng. This has a deeper meaning: when Heaven and Earth meet and become full, all things between them arise naturally. In Zhen, a single Yang line stirs beneath Kan, symbolizing the first sprouting of things; this is called “Morning Zhun.” In Gen, a single Yang line comes to rest above Kan, symbolizing the completion of their growth; this is called “Evening Meng.” To arise and to come to completion is to move and to be still. The mystery of the Returning Elixir is likewise a process of arising and developing into a concentrated form.

At the beginning of cultivation, one gathers the substance below Qujiang—the “substance” spoken of in internal alchemy—and builds up the power of the fire, raising it to Kunlun, a key upper region of the body in alchemical terminology. This is the image of “Morning Zhun,” and the process through which the “Heavenly Root” comes forth. Once Qian and Kun meet in the Celestial Valley, another alchemical term for a region within the body, the movement of Qi is allowed to complete its circuit and condense in the Elixir Cauldron, a symbolic site of refinement. This is the image of “Evening Meng,” and the process through which the “Lunar Cavern” takes shape. The Three Fields, the upper, middle, and lower Dantian, gather their treasures; this too embodies the image of all things becoming full.

In the Way of the Elixir, however, the hexagrams and their lines serve only to explain the principles for advancing the fire and withdrawing the tally through changes of movement and stillness, each rooted in the other. The key is to grasp the general meaning. To fixate on the hexagram images and the words, and insist that “Morning Zhun” and “Evening Meng” are two hexagrams to be cultivated in sequence each day, is like a fool’s dream. The mystery of the firing process lies, in essence, in the phrase “grasp the meaning and forget the image.” The patriarch makes this point especially clear here.

Trigrams are marks established as a method to aid understanding. Once you grasp their meaning, you need not be bound by words or appearances; the true meaning will become clear on its own.

People in the world often become lost in the trigrams. They mechanically follow changes in the trigram Qi, hoping thereby to ascend to heaven.

This chapter teaches that grasping the meaning and forgetting the appearance is the true way to understand the timing of the alchemical firing process. The cauldrons and furnaces, ingredients, Dragon and Tiger, lead and mercury, and other terms found in alchemical scriptures are all symbols used to express principles, not physical objects. Why, then, doubt that the firing process, too, is only symbolic? Words must not be interpreted rigidly, and symbols must not be clung to. Trigrams such as Zhun, Meng, Pi, and Tai are like patterns formed by a worm crawling through wood: they arise by chance, so what is there to cling to? The sages’ skill in establishing trigrams is like pointing at the moon with a finger: the moon is in the sky, not on the finger. If those who cultivate the Dao can grasp the meaning without clinging to symbols, and then use the symbols to understand that meaning, they will see the principles within them clearly. But if they cling rigidly to trigrams and words—using the Zhun trigram in the morning and the Meng trigram at night, practicing each day according to the rules of those two trigrams, and expecting to ascend to heaven in broad daylight—they are being led astray by appearances and refusing to see the truth. This chapter’s meaning is much the same as that of the previous one.

The waxing and waning of fullness and decline between Heaven and Earth each have their proper time. Only those who truly understand these cycles can recognize the moment they present.

Since ancient times, the directives of Geng and Jia—symbols used in the alchemical firing process to mark sequence and change—have been used to explain the patterns of Yin-Yang transformation. Those who can eliminate the Three Corpses, the spirits or desires said in Daoism to dwell within the body and obstruct cultivation, may hope to realize the Great Dao.

This chapter further explains the transformations of creation and change embodied in the Mao-You cosmic cycle, an alchemical cycle that uses Mao and You to mark the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang. The subtlety of the firing process must follow the natural patterns of Heaven and Earth. At its root, the Qi of creation and change is simply the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, within which lie their own moments of fullness, decline, growth, and activation.

This chapter further explains the patterns of transformation that govern the circulation of the celestial circuit at the times of Mao and You. In cultivation, the timing and intensity of the inner fire must be guided by the changes of Heaven and Earth. The movement of the creative Qi, in essence, is the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, following patterns of fullness and decline that change with the seasons. The celestial circuit’s general orientation takes north and south as its axis and east and west as its crosswise direction. In the diagram of the prenatal directions, Qian lies in the south and Kun in the north, while the sun is in the east and the moon in the west. From this, one can see how the movement of Qi waxes and wanes.

In general, fullness must eventually turn to decline; decline is the force of desolation and killing. After emptiness, new growth must arise; growth is the force of generation. Yang Qi is weakest at Zi hour and strongest at Wu hour. By Mao hour, its impulse to arise can no longer be held back. Yin Qi is weakest at Wu hour and strongest at Zi hour. By You hour, its impulse toward desolation can scarcely be reversed. Yet the force of killing is also contained within the force of life, and the force of life within the force of killing. At times, life and death arrive together, so one must understand the crucial turning points in their waxing and waning. Thus it is said: “The fullness and decline of Heaven and Earth follow their seasons. Only by observing their waxing and waning can one know the right moment.”

The subtlety of returning the Elixir—the collective name for processes in Neidan cultivation such as refining Jing into Qi and refining Qi into Shen—lies in the fact that its celestial-circuit timing follows the same patterns as the transformations of Heaven and Earth. When Yin Qi reaches its extreme, Yang arises: the six Yang Qi rise from beneath the earth with Zi hour. When Yang Qi reaches its extreme, Yin arises: the six Yin Qi descend from the heavens with Wu hour. This is the change along the north-south axis. And where there is a north-south axis, there is naturally also an east-west direction. Within the human body, each person has a sun and a moon: the sun in the east, the moon in the west. From these come symbolic Five Phases Qi such as Jia Wood and Geng Metal. While Metal and Wood remain apart, the work of refining Water and Fire together is not yet complete.

Therefore, after the great joining of Qian and Kun, when setting the celestial-circuit process in motion, one must promptly use the Dipper’s handle—the handle of the Northern Dipper, symbolizing the pivot for directing the movement of Qi—to turn the sun and moon within the body. They should rise and descend in an unceasing cycle, like the Xuanji, an ancient rotating instrument for observing celestial movements: from below upward, and from left to right, turning again and again. In this way, Yin Qi gradually recedes, becoming weaker and more depleted, while Yang Qi grows and strengthens. Then primordial Jing naturally transforms into primordial Qi, primordial Qi into primordial Shen, and primordial Shen returns to the Great Void. The Three Corpses and Nine Worms within the body are also thereby naturally eliminated. This is the practice of turning the force of desolation and killing into the force of life, and so attaining the Dao of returning to the root and restoring life. Thus it is said: “Since ancient times, once the Geng-Jia command has been proclaimed, the Three Corpses are entirely removed, and the Dao may be attained.”

The Three Corpses are, according to traditional belief, corpse worms that dwell in the human body; they are also called the Three Peng. It was said that on Gengshen days they ascend to the heavenly court to report a person’s faults, thereby shortening that person’s lifespan. Practitioners seeking the Dao who maintained stillness and purity on Gengshen days, preventing the Three Corpses from taking the opportunity to report them, could eliminate the Three Corpses after doing so seven times. The author, however, considers the method of refining the returning Elixir more direct. Once the key timing of Mao and You is properly applied, Yin Qi will recede completely and Yang Qi will become pure and harmonious. The Three Corpses will then be naturally eliminated, even without waiting for Gengshen days.

When the Four Images—the four symbols representing forces such as Yin-Yang and the Five Phases—come together, the wondrous essence takes shape. Where the Qi of the Five Phases is complete, violet radiance appears. After the foetus is shed, the spiritual Elixir enters the mouth and opens the way to the realm of divine beings and sages, stunning even the spirit dragon.

This chapter describes the signs that appear when the practice of returning the Elixir is complete and the foetus is shed in transformation. At first, the Four Images converge in the Central Yellow, the central region within the body. The Golden Elixir begins to congeal, and the Mysterious Pearl, a symbol of the formed inner Elixir, takes shape. Next, the fire must be gathered to refine the metal, causing the Elixir’s Qi to rise against its natural course to the Palace of Qian, a symbolic name for the head or upper region. It is cooked repeatedly, then nurtured through gentle warming and nursing. In this way, Yin Qi is gradually stripped away and the original nature of Qian’s primordial force is revealed. Only when all impurities are removed, the metal’s nature is pure, and the smoke and fire have vanished is a single Dragon-Tiger Returning Elixir formed.

The Five Qi—the Qi of the Five Phases—gather together in the Upper Field, the upper of the Three Dantian, while the Three Flowers, the gathered Jing, Qi, and Shen, converge at the crown of Qian. The vast, noble Qi fills Heaven and Earth, and the light of wisdom shines throughout the great thousandfold world. This is precisely the scene described as “the Four Images coming together to form the wondrous essence, and the Five Phases becoming complete as violet radiance appears.” At this point, the practitioner establishes nature and life anew, as if creating Heaven and Earth again. The acquired “seed nature,” shaped by habitual conditioning, is transformed into true nature; the discriminating, attached consciousness spirit is transformed into the original spirit. Through self-cultivation and self-transformation, the practitioner is no longer governed by the creative processes of Heaven and Earth.

Even then, one must continue to forget external things and the physical form, accumulate merit, and persist in practice, constantly nourishing the sacred embryo cultivated within. When the work reaches maturity, like fruit ripening and falling from the stem, the spiritual Elixir falls of its own accord and is swallowed. In an instant, it is as if clouds rise and rain falls, thunder roars and lightning flashes: the Yin turbidity throughout the body vanishes at once, and an ordinary person is transformed into a sage. This startles the spirits and ghosts and draws the protection of the heavenly dragons. Such are the signs of becoming attuned to the numinous and entering sagehood, and of the spirit dragon’s astonishment.

The text specifically mentions the Elixir “entering the mouth,” which shows that it is describing the foetus shedding in the return of the Elixir, a process distinct from the foetus shedding associated with the Golden Elixir discussed earlier. The sequence of cultivation throughout the book is broadly clear: it first discusses the source and workings of the Great Dao, then the medicinal substances and furnace and cauldron; next, the joining of Kan and Li to form the Golden Elixir, along with the work of gathering, refining, and gentle nurturing; after that, the joining of Qian and Kun to form the Returning Elixir, along with the work of tempering and nursing. Only here does it describe the signs of the foetus being shed and spirit transformation. Each stage follows an ordered sequence; they are not confused, and readers should distinguish them carefully.

Medicinal substances must unite with Qi (vital energy) to condense into form; the Great Dao, by contrast, must unite with nature through emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action).

Only after swallowing a single numinous elixir can one understand that one’s fate is not entirely arranged by Heaven.

This chapter discusses the wondrous effects of returning the elixir, and holds that cultivation can change a person’s fate. The practice of the returning elixir begins with “deliberate action” and ultimately reaches “non-action”: deliberate action brings the work of cultivating nature and life to completion, while non-action brings the mind and nature to fulfillment. At the outset, one must gather true Yin and true Yang so that like kinds respond to each other; only then can the great medicine be refined. When the Mysterious Pearl—the symbol of the Neidan (internal alchemy) elixir taking shape—has formed, and the Great One—the Dao’s essential nature, or the Qi of true unity—has returned to its source, one then returns to emptiness and realizes the Great Dao.

The Dao gives rise to a single Qi from emptiness; from one come two, and from two, three, which then flow onward without end. Now the numbers five, four, three, and two are gathered back together and returned to the single Qi: this is following the Dao of nature. In this way, one can cultivate both nature and life while also tending to the mind and nature. After repeated refinement, the numinous elixir drops from the summit of Kunlun—a symbolic bodily site in Neidan cultivation—at the proper time, and is taken into the mouth and swallowed. From then on, one can command one’s own transformations, understanding that one’s life and fate are in one’s own hands, and that life and death are no longer governed by Heaven’s decree.

This chapter follows directly on the preceding discussion of the elixir “leaving the womb and entering the mouth,” and describes the confirmation of progress in returning-elixir cultivation. The elixir’s entering the mouth and entering the abdomen are presented as two different situations, but in fact mean the same thing. “Mouth” here does not mean the mouth used for eating and drinking, and “abdomen” does not mean the navel or belly. Their meaning will become clear to anyone who encounters a true teacher.

The practice of the Great Dao has both easy and difficult aspects. Although cultivation is said to depend on oneself, it is still affected by conditions such as the timing of Heaven.

Without long accumulation of good deeds and the discreet practice of De (Virtue/Power), one may readily encounter various demonic obstacles and hindrances in one’s actions.

Those who practice the Dao should cultivate De and accumulate good deeds so that they may resonate with Heaven. It is indeed true that once the elixir is taken, a person can take their life and destiny into their own hands and no longer be governed by Heaven’s decree. But this describes what happens after cultivation has succeeded. At the beginning of practice, some things are easy and others difficult; it is not the same for everyone. In general, those who undertake the Dao with sincerity can make progress more easily. Those who rely on falsehood and cunning, hoping to take shortcuts, will meet obstacle after obstacle. Only wholehearted sincerity can bring one into accord with the Dao of Heaven. Even a little deception can cut one off from Heaven’s heart and invite demonic hindrances.

The work of changing one’s destiny lies within oneself, but the opportunity to transcend the world also depends on the Dao of Heaven. These words emphasize that those who practice the Dao must accumulate hidden virtue: good deeds done without seeking recognition. Doing good without seeking a reputation is what is meant by hidden virtue. Practitioners should continually perform good deeds that help others and show compassion toward all beings, such as those recorded in the Taishang Ganying Pian (Treatise of the Most High on Response and Retribution). They should act willingly and with a settled mind, without ulterior motives. They must not harbor even the slightest thought of claiming credit, pursuing profit, or seeking blessings. Any such mixed motive goes against one’s original nature and the Dao of Heaven; it reduces one to the demonic and obstructs the chance to realize the Great Dao.

All manner of demonic hindrances in the world arise from the workings of the mind. Wholeheartedly accumulating virtue is naturally enough to resonate with Heaven and bring the work of cultivation to fruition. In this sense, the key still lies within oneself, not in Heaven’s decree. The principle of changing one’s destiny therefore applies not only after cultivation has succeeded, but also from the very beginning. Those who resolve to undertake the Great Dao should reflect on this chapter again and again.

Once the monkey mind and galloping thoughts—the mind’s restless fluctuations—have quieted, the hidden mysteries within the heart become apparent. Accumulate three thousand meritorious deeds, and one can accord with the Dao of Heaven.

Within the body, the cauldron and furnace will naturally arise to refine the dragon and tiger—symbols in Daoist internal alchemy for Yin-Yang and other elements of cultivation. Why remain attached to household affairs or long for one’s wife and children?

This chapter describes the state attained through Daoist practice once the mind has settled. The previous chapter said that realizing the Great Dao depends on cultivating merit and virtue: learn the mysteries within the heart, accumulate three thousand meritorious deeds, and one can accord with the Dao of Heaven. Once cultivation reaches a certain level, the cauldron and furnace will naturally take shape within the body to refine the dragon and tiger. Why, then, remain attached to household affairs or long for one’s wife and children?

This chapter describes the state reached after fully realizing the mind’s nature. The previous chapter said that cultivating the Great Dao requires both merit and practice: those who study the Dao should accumulate merit, perform good deeds, and align themselves with Heaven’s will. The scripture also speaks of “three thousand merits and eight hundred deeds.” At first glance, this might seem to require many lifetimes to complete, making fulfillment in a single life impossible.

In fact, the so-called “three thousand merits and eight hundred deeds” all arise from the mind. If you can turn back in a single thought and let go of attachment to body and mind, leaving the heart-mind empty, clear, and unobstructed, you can fully awaken. Then the three thousand merits and eight hundred deeds are fulfilled in the present moment, and the mind’s state becomes as vast and elevated as the Great Void. Hence the saying: “When the mind-monkey is fully subdued, the workings of the heart are clear; three thousand merits and deeds rise level with Heaven.” This is true emptiness encompassing wondrous existence: although the mind’s substance is empty, it can contain actual merit and practice.

After realizing emptiness, those who study the Dao must still cultivate merit and perform practical deeds. If they instead grow arrogant, deny cause and effect, and presume that cultivation and realization are unnecessary—that this alone is the highest teaching—they will fall into indulgence and disorder and invite misfortune. Even those of profound attainment do not abandon cultivation after a sudden awakening. They still set up the furnace and cauldron, gather the ingredients, and tend the firing process to refine the “Great Elixir of the Dragon and Tiger,” a metaphor for attainment through Neidan cultivation. Emptiness does not obstruct cultivation or practice; this is precisely its subtle wonder.

Understanding that emptiness does not preclude existence also makes clear that existence does not preclude emptiness. At this level, sensory objects, discriminating consciousness, and all manner of thoughts dissolve; even the rivers and mountains of the earth are like phantoms. If you no longer cling even to your own body, how much less would you cling to your home, fields, or wife and children? The things ordinary people most desire and find hardest to relinquish may be precisely where Dao cultivators find great liberation. This letting go happens naturally; there is no need to reject anything deliberately. Hence the saying: “Naturally, the cauldron is there to cook the Dragon and Tiger; why burden yourself with family and cling to children and wife?” This is wondrous existence encompassing true emptiness: cultivation and ordinary life continue, yet they do not bind you.

Only then can you understand that cultivation through deliberate action and the state of Wuwei (non-action) are like fire joining with fire; exhausting one’s nature and fulfilling one’s destiny are like emptiness joining with emptiness. Since no form of their union can be found, how could they be divided into two separate things? This is the teaching the Patriarch reveals at the end. Earlier interpretations mostly failed to grasp its meaning, so it is pointed out here specifically for fellow students of the Dao.

Cultivating the Great Way of the Golden Elixir begins with practices of action and proceeds into the realm of non-action. Earlier, it was explained that “emptiness” and “existence” are not opposed to one another. Here, that principle is stated directly once more, as a summary of the entire text.

People know only that practices of action concern the cultivation of life, while the realm of non-action concerns the cultivation of nature. They do not realize that the two have an order and different degrees of urgency. Practices of action are directed toward forming the Elixir. Methods such as gathering the medicine and refining it require one to recognize the right moment and respond to the opportunity. These practices are subtle and hidden: practitioners must sense the changes within themselves, which are difficult for others to see. When practice has grown deep and the firing process has matured, body and mind come into harmony, the changes of life settle, and body and mind become one. Returning to the root and recovering one’s original nature, one naturally reaches the serene realm of non-action. At that point, inner cultivation becomes manifest and the spirit shines with clarity, visible to all. Hence the saying: “At the beginning, people cannot see the practice of action; when one reaches the realm of non-action, everyone knows.”

This shows that only by not stopping at practices of action can one experience the wonder that follows the completion of cultivation. This is meant to dispel people’s bias toward attachment to “existence.” Once the realm of non-action is reached, body and spirit attain subtlety and unite in truth with the Dao. One can awaken oneself and inspire others, teaching the mysterious Dharma and thereby earning their respect and trust. Yet people often fail to understand that practitioners first gather in a quiet chamber—a place set aside for cultivation—and devote themselves to strenuous practice, gradually establishing the foundation of the Elixir. Practices of action demand precisely this kind of focused and sustained effort.

Hence the saying: “Everyone knows that non-action is the secret of cultivation; who knows that action is the foundation?” This shows that only by avoiding empty talk of non-action from the outset can one truly set foot on the path of cultivation. This is meant to dispel people’s bias toward attachment to “emptiness.” Practices of action belong to the cultivation of life; non-action belongs to the cultivation of nature. If students of the Dao favor action too heavily, they become attached to illusory appearances; if they favor non-action too heavily, they fall into stagnation and empty stillness. The Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality) dispels both the view that things endure forever and the view that they are utterly extinguished. It does not cling to either extreme: every line points to the root, ultimately guiding people to unite body and mind, and to realize that existence and emptiness are not two, directly experiencing the Dao in its utmost truth and subtlety. Reaching this point sweeps away partial attachments and establishes the right path. This is the key to the entire book.

Cultivation requires setting aside both extremes and clinging to neither. Every sentence of the scripture points upward. Ultimately, its aim is to unite body and mind, transcend the distinction between being and nonbeing, and personally realize the supreme, ultimate, wondrously awakened Dao. Here the passage concludes with “sweeping away and establishing both”: it clears away attachment to either being or nonbeing, while establishing right understanding that transcends both. This is the key that runs through the entire work.

Those who cultivate the Dao live in the ordinary world, yet can get along with others and temper their sharpness. They are accommodating when the moment calls for it and principled when firmness is needed.

Their tracks are sometimes visible and sometimes concealed; at times they act with the current, at times against it. Others find them hard to fathom. How, then, could anyone see through their advances and retreats?

This chapter teaches that living amid the ordinary world does not obstruct cultivation of the Dao; this is its wondrous power beyond convention. The Daodejing says, “Blend your light; mingle with the dust.” These two lines are not easy to grasp. Someone who has the Dao does not display that they have it; someone who has De does not display that they have it. This is called “blending the light”: restraining one’s radiance and keeping one’s edge out of sight. In appearance and conduct, such a person is no different from ordinary men and women. Whether in a pure or a polluted setting, they can adapt with ease. This is called “mingling with the dust,” or “blending into the world.”

After great practitioners have completed their cultivation, their hearts remain unstained by worldly things. They possess the six spiritual powers—the various capacities for spiritual perception spoken of in Daoism—and can teach people and benefit all beings as they wish. Even when they enter the world, they respond freely and meet no obstruction anywhere. In their manner of acting, they are sometimes accommodating and sometimes firm; in their movements, sometimes visible and sometimes hidden; in responding to circumstances, sometimes compliant and sometimes acting in reverse. Even Heaven, Earth, and the spirits cannot discern their advances, retreats, or movements, much less ordinary people.

Thus they can leave the world or enter it, withdraw from society or govern its affairs. Whether they withdraw, appear, remain watchful and self-controlled, or rise to action, everything is decided by their inner nature. Serving in office, retiring, staying for a long time, or departing swiftly—all are fitting to the moment. They are like a lion that leaves no trace, or a divine dragon whose transformations are impossible to predict: profound and wondrous. Thus, in the Book of Changes, King Wen of Zhou wrote the line statements for the Qian hexagram, culminating in the image of “no head” in “Using the Nine.” Confucius, when he met the Supreme Lord Laozi at the pillar, marveled that he was like a dragon, impossible to fathom. To attain this level of cultivation is to reach the highest state.

One poem of five-character lines and four rhymes (each line has five characters and the poem has four rhymes)

One poem of five-character lines and four rhymes (symbolizing the odd number of the Great One, Taiyi)

The woman wears blue-green clothing, while the man is draped in white silk. When they are seen, they cannot be put to use directly; when they are truly put to use, their forms and traces are no longer visible. The two meet amid a hazy obscurity and transform in a place deep and unfathomable.

In an instant, flames rise, and the True Person appears—the perfected nature sought through cultivation, or one who has attained the Dao.

This poem uses “Taiyi” (the Mysterious One, a concept associated in Daoism with subtle transformation) as its symbol. Through the colors of the man’s and woman’s clothing and the changing flames, it depicts the union of Yin and Yang in Neidan cultivation: from subtle, hidden transformations, the true state gradually becomes manifest.

This chapter gives an overall account of the wondrous workings of the Golden Elixir and serves as the conclusion to the eighty chapters of An Exposition of the Hidden Meaning of the Wuzhen Pian. In brief, the Golden Elixir works by taking the Qi of the “Metal” and “Wood” strings and bringing them into union.

“Wood of Zhen” belongs to the eldest son, yet arises from “Fire of Li,” and thus also carries a feminine symbolism. According to the account that Heaven’s three gives birth to Wood while Earth’s eight numbers enclose and conceal it, Wood of Zhen is like a man wearing women’s clothes; hence it is called “the maiden dressed in blue.” “Metal of Dui” belongs to the youngest daughter, yet arises from “Water of Kan,” and thus also carries a masculine symbolism. According to the account that Earth’s four gives birth to Metal while Heaven’s nine numbers enclose and conceal it, Metal of Dui is like a woman disguised as a man; hence it is called “the young lord draped in white silk.” Zhen, Li, Dui, and Kan are names of hexagrams in the Yijing. The “Metal and Wood strings” is a term from alchemy, referring to two kinds of Qi that correspond as Yin and Yang.

These two kinds of Qi appear in the postcelestial realm, yet are conceived in the precelestial realm. They can be gathered and put to use before they take on visible form. Once form has begun to emerge, they have already fallen into postcelestial Yin and acquired visible signs, so they can no longer be used. Thus it is said: “When they can be seen, they cannot be used; when they are to be used, they cannot be seen.”

When the Great Medicine is about to form but has not yet done so, the first stirrings of change are about to arise, yet have not departed from stillness. Yang Qi has just been born, but has not yet separated from Yin. It is silent and unmoving, and so is provisionally called “obscure and dark.” When met with, it responds, and so is provisionally called “vague and indistinct.” Within the vague and indistinct, Yin and Yang meet, and movement still contains stillness. Within the obscure and dark, change takes place: when stillness reaches its limit, movement arises. This interplay of movement and stillness is the most subtle moment in the transformations of Heaven, Earth, and humanity.

At this time, the work of regulating the firing process and cleansing the mind lasts only a fleeting instant, yet the true seed of the Golden Elixir can be obtained. Hence it is said: “In a flash, the flame takes flight, and the perfected person appears of himself.” This passage concerns the cultivation of the Golden Elixir. With further practice, one can undergo spiritual transformation as if reborn, naturally manifesting limitless changes, transcending the cycle of rebirth, and sharing a dharma body with the Supreme Ones of the Three Pure Ones. The Patriarch concludes the whole book with this chapter to gather its extensive teachings into a concise whole and return to the original truth of the Great One.

This level of attainment has already gone beyond the cycle of reincarnation and reached the point of sharing a Dharma-body with the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) and the Most High. The Patriarch wrote this final piece to bring the book’s eighty chapters to a close: gathering its broad teachings into essentials, then returning to the truth of the Great Unity (Taiyi)—the primal source, the One.

This piece is not difficult to annotate; the difficulty lies in writing the preface. The confused and inverted ideas of the past are set in clear order here and woven into a seamless whole. Even the celestial granddaughter’s brocade—the legendary work of the immortal maiden who wove clouds—could hardly surpass it. As for the purpose made clear in the annotations, every word is like a golden needle. Only those whose minds resonate with it can grasp it in silence, just as one can know warmth or cold only through direct experience. (General commentary on the middle volume)

Lower Volume

Twelve Songs of “Xijiang Yue”

“West” is the direction associated with Metal among the Five Phases; “River” refers to the substance of Water; and “Moon” refers to the function of the elixir. The twelve songs correspond to the twelve months of the year.

The inner medicine—the elixir cultivated within the body—and the outer medicine, made with external substances or the Qi of Heaven and Earth, are interconnected. Cultivating Neidan also requires understanding Waidan. The elixir’s essential ingredients are blended and brought into harmony according to similar principles, though the methods of nurturing them differ.

The body contains its own natural True Fire, which burns steadily in the furnace over a long period. Regulate the firing process in accordance with the rhythm of the year.

The inner and outer medicines are interconnected, and inner cultivation must also accord with outer cultivation. The elixir’s essential ingredients are blended and brought into harmony according to similar principles, though the methods of nurturing them differ.

The body contains its own natural True Fire, which burns steadily in the furnace over a long period. The heat of the outer furnace must be carefully adjusted, increased or reduced as needed. The subtlest point is to avoid contrived action; only then can the true seed be obtained.

This chapter summarizes the inner and outer medicines and describes the complete practice of dual cultivation of nature and life. The Great Dao originally has no distinction between inner and outer. These distinctions arise only in the practice of the Golden Elixir (Jindan)—the Daoist art of Neidan—including the differences between substance and function, and between host and guest. Few people throughout history have truly understood this. The patriarch Ciyun of the Wuzhen pian, out of compassion, offered guidance to students: the whole book discusses the two medicines, inner and outer, but only here does it state their essential points plainly.

The inner medicine belongs to the precelestial state; the outer medicine is cultivated from the postcelestial state and returns to the precelestial. What is present from birth, complete without deliberate cultivation, is called the inner medicine. What is brought about through intentional cultivation that returns one to the source is called the outer medicine. The inner medicine clarifies one’s original nature, taking the Central Yellow (a Neidan term for the central, vital place within the body) as its substance—that is, using the original spirit to govern Jing and Qi. The outer medicine cultivates life and entrusts its function to Kan and Li (Neidan terms commonly corresponding to Kidney Water and Heart Fire); that is, it brings body and mind into harmony with true intent, the focused intention that does not wander or act rashly.

The original spirit is naturally still and unmoving, yet it can communicate when stirred by a response. Stillness and responsiveness are inseparable, so the substances of the inner and outer medicines are connected. In stillness, not even a single thought arises, which seems like Wuwei; when responsiveness occurs, the Six Roots—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—communicate with one another without hindering purposeful activity. Thus the functions of the two medicines are connected as well. Hence the saying: “The inner medicine is like the outer medicine; what is inwardly connected must also be connected outwardly.”

A single spark of precelestial awareness, whole and perfectly rounded, is the seed of the Great Medicine—the foundation from which the medicines congeal in Neidan practice. Practitioners of the highest attainment recognize this seed; as long as true intent does not scatter and the original spirit gathers within, body and mind naturally unite and respond to one another. In this way, the inner encompasses the outer, and function is reached through the source. For practitioners of middle or lower attainment, this state is difficult to achieve. Once they recognize the seed, they too must hold to true intent and settle the original spirit, allowing body and mind to unite and respond to one another naturally.

People of moderate or lesser aptitude do not easily reach this state. They must first cultivate their nature and mind and lay a firm foundation, like building a fortified city. Only by settling within can they restrain what is external; through restraining the external, they can nourish the inner. First, body and mind must be brought into harmony so that the original Shen (the person’s innate nature and governing spirit) can become still and settled. This is to preserve the inner through the outer, tracing the current back from its end to its source. Although the methods of internal and external refinement differ, in the end they can converge as one.

Thus it is said: “Once the elixir ingredients (the substances or key elements used in refining the elixir) have been harmonized, their nature is the same; yet warming and nurturing them have two different functions.” Since the ingredients are divided into internal and external kinds, the furnace and vessel (the place of refinement or the basis in body and mind) are also divided into internal and external kinds, and the stages and application of the fire (the timing and regulation of cultivation) likewise have internal and external aspects. Broadly speaking, the internal furnace refers specifically to the Central Yellow (the position within body and mind regarded as the center of refinement); the external furnace encompasses the Six Roots (the gateways of perception and thought: eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind). The internal fire is chiefly a matter of Wuwei (non-action), while the external fire also involves deliberate action.

Those who cultivate the Dao must let the original Shen sit peacefully in the Central Yellow, responding keenly to things while remaining inwardly still. Then the true breath (the natural, sustained breathing described in cultivation) will flow without interruption, be used without strain, and remain joined with and abiding alongside the original Shen, like a spark in the furnace that never goes out, day or night. Hence it is said: “Within, there is a natural true fire; in the furnace, it glows bright and red for a long time.” The Central Yellow is the internal furnace, the original Shen is the internal ingredient, and the ceaseless true breath is the internal fire. These belong to one’s fundamental nature: they are a practice that neither adds nor subtracts, and are therefore innate.

The practices that follow, in which the acquired nature is increased or diminished, all arise from this. Ordinary people lose their true nature most often through the gateways of the Six Roots. Thus, in daily life, they must continually turn the light back upon themselves (gathering the mind and observing within), constantly collecting and settling body and mind. Can this practice be neglected? “In learning, one daily increases”; hence it is called “increase.” “In cultivating the Dao, one daily diminishes”; hence it is called “diminution.” In practice, one must continually increase one’s effort; in one’s fundamental nature, one must continually diminish stray thoughts and artificial striving. Increase and diminution proceed together until there is nothing left to increase or diminish. Then, naturally, original Jing (innate essence) transforms into original Qi (innate vital energy), original Qi transforms into original Shen, and original Shen returns to the Great Void (the formless, imageless source), revealing the true seed of effortless achievement. As long as increase and diminution remain, one is still at the level of deliberate practice. Only when nothing is added or subtracted does one reach the supreme, true and wondrous Dao, where achievement comes naturally without contrivance.

The deliberate work of increasing and decreasing accords precisely with the original nature, which neither increases nor decreases and remains naturally still. This is the relationship between the inner and outer medicines: their roots are the same, and their functions flow into one another. As the saying goes: “The work of increase and decrease in the outer furnace requires diligent practice; yet its subtlety lies in Wuwei (non-action), through which the true seed can be obtained.”

The inner furnace refers to the Central Yellow Spirit Chamber, the central place within the body where cultivation takes place. When the Original Spirit is settled and still, the inner medicine is at work. The natural true fire is the inner timing of the fire: it belongs to original nature, is the host, and is key to cultivating the work of nature. The outer furnace refers to the interacting use of Kan and Li, symbols of Yin-Yang, water and fire. Harmonizing body and mind is the work of the outer medicine. Diligently adjusting and refining through increase and decrease is the outer timing of the fire: it belongs to function, is the guest, and is key to cultivating the work of life. When the inner and outer medicines merge as one, substance and function share a single source, and host and guest work together, nature and life are cultivated in tandem, ultimately bringing body and spirit to wondrous perfection. This is what it means for the inner and outer ways to join and become one.

This medicine is supremely wondrous and sacred; the only concern is that those with shallow affinity may be unable to bear it. Harmonizing lead and mercury—terms in alchemy that symbolize Yin-Yang essence and Qi—takes less than a full day, and the traces of the Mysterious Pearl, the wondrous thing that symbolizes the completion of the Elixir, can appear before long.

If those who aspire to cultivate the Dao can practice, why avoid the marketplaces and courts and insist on withdrawing to the mountains and forests? The work of cultivation is easy to describe, and the medicines are not far away. Once the principle is explained, it can seem so simple as to be laughable.

This chapter says that the Great Medicine—the fundamental medicine in Neidan practice—is in fact exceedingly simple and easy: the inner medicine encompasses the outer medicine. The previous chapter said that only when the inner and outer are joined can they be called the Great Medicine of the Golden Elixir. Yet the inner medicine and outer medicine remain distinct. The outer medicine belongs to postnatal cultivation; to rise from ordinary person to sage, and from sage to spirit, one must rely on concrete practices. The inner medicine, by contrast, is the original prenatal reality, inherently complete in ordinary people and sages alike. People simply lack the confidence to believe in and take responsibility for what they already possess.

The Great Medicine’s efficacy depends on true lead and true mercury—Neidan terms here referring to body and mind. Body and mind do not readily unite on their own; they need true intention, the awareness that harmonizes them. Where true intention settles and remains unmoving is the original spirit (Yuanshen), the clear spirit one inherently possesses. Once the original spirit returns, body and mind naturally become one, and the Mysterious Pearl—the numinous clarity symbolizing the achievement of Neidan cultivation—appears. At this point, its wondrous efficacy can be realized immediately, without a long period of practice. Hence the saying, “The radiant Golden Elixir is formed in a single day.”

Sadly, people often cannot trust this. They toil at bodily practices and torment themselves, leaving their spouses to cultivate in the mountains. They do not know that the key to cultivation lies entirely in the mind-ground: as long as the mind-ground is pure and lucid, neither stained by external things nor clouded, living in the bustling marketplace is no different from dwelling in a remote mountain valley. “Great reclusion in the dusty world” refers precisely to genuine cultivation.

Body and mind are the Great Medicine, and the innate spark of original spirit is the seed of the Great Medicine—the foundation of the elixir. Everyone possesses this seed from the start. But without a true teacher to point it out, people use it constantly in daily life without knowing it. They therefore fail to believe that the Great Medicine is close at hand and that the practice is so easy. Instead, they seek it in distant and difficult places, ultimately overlooking what is right before them and resigning themselves to being ordinary people. Once someone points it out, they come to see that this innate spark in everyone is the Great Medicine of the Golden Elixir, and that the true, natural fire they have been using unconsciously all along is its fire. They also come to understand that even those who had resigned themselves to being ordinary people can rise from ordinary to sage, attaining perfect harmony and unobstructed understanding. How could this realization not make one laugh in astonishment? The Laozi says, “If it did not provoke laughter, it would not be worthy of the Dao.”

This chapter explains how the inner medicine encompasses the outer medicine, allowing direct realization of the state of Wuwei (non-action). Understanding the principles of nature and life also includes the cultivation of life. This is what is meant by “cultivate the upper pass, and it encompasses the two lower passes.”

The first essence represented by the White Tiger—a alchemical term symbolized by Metal—is a precious treasure. The divine water contained in the Flower Pool, another alchemical symbol, is true gold. This shows that this pure, flawless medicine has a deep-rooted source and is unlike ordinary medicines.

To complete the Nine Transformations, the stages through which the elixir is refined in Neidan, one must first refine oneself and maintain the original mind. The medicine must be gathered at the proper time, with care taken to discern whether it is sinking or rising. One must be especially cautious when advancing the fire—the regulated application of heat in cultivation—to avoid danger.

This chapter explains that refining the Great Medicine requires methods involving deliberate action: outward practices are used to preserve inner cultivation. The inner medicine is Wuwei (non-action) and serves to realize one’s nature; the outer medicine involves deliberate action and serves to realize one’s life. Realizing one’s nature means using the One to govern the Two, a remarkably simple method. Realizing one’s life means returning from the Two to the One, a process whose workings are profound and subtle.

Cultivation of the Golden Elixir begins by harmonizing the Four Symbols. What are the Four Symbols? Earth’s fourth produces Metal, symbolized by the White Tiger. Within it lies the true water of Heaven’s first, called the “first essence”—a treasure of utmost Yang. Hence the phrase, “The White Tiger’s first essence is a precious treasure.” Heaven’s third produces Wood, symbolized by the Flower Pool. Within it lies the true fire of Earth’s second, called “divine water,” which is true gold. Hence the phrase, “The Flower Pool’s divine water is true gold.”

Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire have four names when spoken of separately, but together they are simply the two constituents Kan and Li. By reversing and joining these two, one can bring forth the primordial One Qi, the original vital energy that precedes Heaven. The primordial One Qi comes from emptiness; its source is pure and its flow clear, without the slightest impurity. This is what the Cantong qi means when it says, “The highest good is like water, clear and without blemish.” Thus this supremely good substance has a deep-rooted source and is unlike ordinary medicines.

The single Yin within Li belongs to Earthly Stem Ji and symbolizes “the self.” Since “the human mind is perilous,” it must be refined and dispelled. The single Yang within Kan belongs to Earthly Stem Wu and symbolizes the “mind.” Since “the Dao mind is subtle,” it must be nourished and maintained. Only after the work of refining the self and maintaining the mind has become mature through long practice, reaching the utmost state of emptiness and stillness, will the Great Medicine form. At that moment, the power of the Nine Transformations is complete. Hence the saying: “To complete the Nine Transformations, first refine the self and maintain the mind.”

As soon as the Great Medicine forms, it must be gathered at the right time. The moment for gathering is when Kan and Li have just joined and the first Yang begins to stir. A red glow at the bottom of the pool signals that the medicine’s Qi is sinking. At that point, one should quiet distracting thoughts, remain still, and await the right moment with an empty mind. When yellow sprouts emerge from the earth, this signals that the medicine’s Qi is rising. One should seize the moment to gather it, then advance the fire and continue refining.

The practitioner must experience these changes firsthand. Gathering too soon is called “acting before the time”; failing to gather promptly when the time has come is called “missing the time.” If one acts too soon, the medicine is still immature; if one misses the time, it has grown too old. Even a slight mistake may prevent the elixir from forming or may bring danger. Hence the saying: “Gather at the proper time, discerning whether it sinks or rises; when advancing the fire, guard against grave danger.”

This chapter explains that cultivation of the outer medicine begins with deliberate action and then returns to Wuwei. While cultivating life, one’s nature is also included. This is the method of gradually opening the two lower passes and connecting them with the upper pass.

“Seven reversions of cinnabar return it to its source; nine restorations of Golden Liquid return it to the Real.” This describes the process by which the great medicine, through reversion and restoration, recovers its source and returns to what is real. Here, “reversion” and “restoration” refer to stages of cultivation in gathering the medicine and advancing the fire. They are used differently from the previous scroll’s discussion of the conjunction of Kan and Li. “Cinnabar” and “Golden Liquid” are alchemical terms for the substances used in cultivation and the changes they undergo.

“Do not reckon the hours of Yin and Zi, Kun and Shen”: do not infer the fire’s timing solely from the Earthly Branches Yin, Zi, Kun, and Shen. To judge the progress of cultivation, observe whether the changes of the Five Phases accord with their proper principles.

“The original is but one ingredient, like mercury, traveling through all the celestial stations.” The great medicine is originally a single substance, flowing and changing like mercury as it moves through every position in time and space. “When the Yin-Yang count is complete, it naturally communicates with the spirit”: when the changes of Yin-Yang reach their full measure, their subtle workings become accessible of themselves. The medicine’s entering and leaving never departs from the “Mysterious Female,” the gateway through which the Dao’s body brings forth and transforms things.

This chapter explains the mysteries of the great medicine’s return and also discusses both inner and outer aspects of alchemy. The foundation of the inner medicine lies in the “Valley Spirit,” the inner source that is empty and still yet capable of generation and transformation. Cultivation therefore cannot focus only on the coordination of the Five Phases; it must also grasp this inner foundation.

This chapter explains the subtle principle of the “Great Medicine’s Return,” bringing together inner and outer medicines. The foundation of the inner medicine lies in the “Grain Spirit” (the inward spirit, empty and still yet capable of generating and transforming), which cannot be separated from the “Mysterious Female” (the source of Yin-Yang generation and transformation). The outer medicine works through two opposing forces, which must undergo a process of return and transformation.

How could the subtle method called “seven reversals and nine returns,” which uses Yin-Yang in an inverted way, be easy to understand? Its images come from the Hetu. According to the Hetu, Heaven’s One gives birth to Water, and Earth’s Six brings Water to form. The Kan trigram corresponds to Water and has the number seven; within it is already the symbol of Fire. The solid point within Kan was originally the true solar Fire of the Qian trigram. When Fire condenses into sand, it takes the form of cinnabar. Earth’s Two gives birth to Fire, and Heaven’s Seven brings Fire to form. The Li trigram corresponds to Fire and has the number nine; within it is already the symbol of Metal. The empty point within Li was originally the true lunar Water of the Kun trigram. When Metal turns into Water, it takes the form of liquid gold.

Those who cultivate the Dao must take the true Yin from the Li trigram and send it back to the Kan Palace, so that Kan transforms into Kun. Then they take the true Yang from the Kan trigram and send it back to the Li Palace, so that Li transforms into Qian. This is called returning to the root and restoring the source, thereby recovering the original prenatal state. Hence the saying: “Through seven reversals, cinnabar returns to the root; through nine returns, liquid gold restores the true.”

At the beginning of cultivation, Water of the North is refined back into Fire of the South. Then Fire of the South is transformed into Metal of the West; using Fire to refine Metal is what is called the Golden Elixir. When refinement reaches pure Qian, the adept is called a Golden Immortal. The turning of the Hetu into the Luoshu, the exchange of Metal and Fire, the transformation of the prenatal into the postnatal, and the Li trigram’s taking the place of Qian all refer to this same process.

People in the world do not understand the subtle workings of creation and transformation. They call counting from Yin to Shen “seven reversals,” and counting backward from Shen to Zi “nine returns.” This is truly laughable. How could they know that the generation and completion of Water and Fire are the natural principles governing the Five Phases? Hence the saying: “Do not take Yin, Zi, Kun, and Shen as the basis for counting; simply look to the laws by which the Five Phases are generated.”

When Kan and Li are discussed separately, they are called Kan and Li, but in truth the great medicine of true lead is only one substance. To trace it to its source, the key is to take the single Yang line within Kan as primary. The True Water of Heaven’s One is born from this. It is the root of nature and life, contains the transformations of all things, and embodies the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water).

True Water first transforms into lead, dwelling in the northern palace of Kan and corresponding to the earthly branches Hai and Zi and to Water. This is the substance of “true lead.” It then transforms into cinnabar, dwelling in the southern palace of Li and corresponding to Si and Wu and to Fire. Its third transformation is into mercury, dwelling in the eastern position of Zhen and corresponding to Yin and Mao and to Wood. Its fourth is into silver, dwelling in the western position of Dui and corresponding to Shen and You and to Metal. Its fifth is into Earth, dwelling in the central palace of Kun and corresponding to the four Earth branches Chen, Xu, Chou, and Wei. Hence the saying: “Originally there was only one substance, mercury, flowing in succession through the twelve double-hours.” This describes how it circulates and transforms in accordance with the natural process.

To reverse this circulation is to cultivate the method of “seven returns and nine reversions” through true Yin and true Yang. When the practice reaches its completion after nine revolutions, the embryo is fully formed and primordial Qi is abundant. It then accords with the yang number of eighty-one, the product of nine times nine, in the transformations of creation, and naturally sheds its embryo to enter wondrous transformation. This is what the Laozi means by “the Valley Spirit never dies.”

To make the Valley Spirit never die, one must begin with the Mysterious Female, the Daoist term for the fundamental gateway through which generation and transformation arise. At first, the One divides into two: the Valley Spirit separates into the Mysterious Female and moves from within outward. This is like one substance flowing through the twelve double-hours. Then the two unite again as one: the Mysterious Female returns to the Valley Spirit and gathers from without inward. This is the process by which the two medicines return to their source and recover their true nature. Hence the saying: “When the numbers of Yin and Yang have been fully cultivated, wondrous understanding comes naturally; in going out and coming in, one never leaves the Mysterious Female.” The opening chapter brings together the inner and outer medicines and serves as the guiding outline for the entire work.

This chapter concerns the workings of the “supremely divine and sacred”: the inner governs the outer. The third chapter explains the essentials of cultivating oneself and keeping watch over the mind: external practice returns to the heart. This chapter, in turn, explores the mystery of returning to the source. It takes the “Valley Spirit” (Gushen)—the Dao’s empty, still essence, which has the power to bring forth change—as its foundation, and considers the relationship between inner and outer.

The bond between the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl embodies the foundation of the Great Dao. The pair of tortoise and snake, too, partake of nature’s inherent character. When the toad and the crow meet on the new moon, they bring the full moon to completion; Yin and Yang Qi support one another and set the ceaseless cycle in motion.

All this is the wondrous working of Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang. Who can truly understand its inner meaning? If Yin and Yang are blocked from communicating, things go awry. How, then, could Heaven and Earth remain joined for long?

This chapter discusses the subtle workings of the interaction between Yin and Yang; they must not be cut off from one another. The previous chapter said that “seven returns and nine restorations”—the process in Neidan cultivation by which Yin and Yang Qi cycle back and forth and refine one another—depends on the “Mysterious Female,” the source from which the myriad things come forth. This shows that Kan and Li, the trigrams that represent Yin and Yang in Neidan, must unite. The natural world illustrates this principle: the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl are two stars in the heavens. If Yin and Yang were kept apart, things would go awry. How could they remain joined for long?

This chapter explains that the two forces used in alchemy must work together and cannot remain separate. The previous chapter said that the “Seven Returns and Nine Reversions” depend on the “Mysterious Female” (the source that gives birth to all things). From this we can understand that Kan and Li (the two forces symbolizing Water and Fire, Yin and Yang) must unite.

Looking at the ways things appear in the world, the Cowherd and Weaver Girl are two stars in the heavens who need a bridge of magpies to meet. The tortoise and snake are two creatures on earth that join to form the image of the Dark Warrior. The crow in the sun and the rabbit in the moon, too, must await the meeting of the end and beginning of the lunar month before primordial Qi (the fundamental energy of life) can emerge and the moon shine anew. These are all examples of Yin and Yang Qi depending on one another as they move and transform. When Yin and Yang follow the natural order, they give rise to people and all things in the world; when that order is applied in reverse, the Golden Elixir can be refined.

The wondrous work by which the Father Qian and Mother Kun (Heaven and Earth as images of Yin and Yang) provide beginnings and give life is also the principle by which the male Kan and female Li return to their source. If people cultivate only one of these forces, they inevitably fall into the imbalance of solitary Yin or deficient Yang. Water and Fire then cannot aid and complete one another, and the Qi of Heaven and Earth cannot communicate, as in the obstruction and separation represented by the Pi hexagram. In that state, one cannot share in Heaven and Earth’s work of generating and transforming life—so how could one endure as long as Heaven and Earth? This means that cultivating nature must also be accompanied by establishing life in order to accord with the wondrous work of returning to the source. Cultivating only one force is not the Great Dao. Some seize on the literal words “Yin and Yang blocked and separated” and turn instead to sexual techniques, using them to deceive and mislead the ignorant. Their offense is truly grave.

For true lead (an alchemical term symbolizing a crucial substance or force) to retain mercury, the two may be close, but they cannot do without a “household attendant.” If Wood and Metal are separated, they have no means of uniting; a go-between must bring them together.

Wood by nature delights in Metal and follows what is right; Metal in its nature is attached to Wood and holds compassion. The two absorb and mingle with one another, and draw close. Only then does the image appear of a sacred embryo forming within a man.

This chapter describes the first union of Kan and Li, symbolizing the practice of refining the Golden Elixir. The previous chapter spoke of Yin and Yang being separated, corresponding precisely to the separation of Metal and Wood. They are kept apart by something that stands between them.

This chapter describes Kan and Li (symbolizing water and fire, Yin and Yang) beginning to unite. This is a metaphor for Golden Elixir cultivation. The previous chapter described Yin and Yang as separated, using Metal and Wood to symbolize their division. They were separated because there was no suitable guide to bring them together: true Earth was missing to harmonize them.

Metal born in water is called true Lead; Wood born in fire is called true Mercury. Mercury is light and volatile, and easily disperses. Only true Lead can keep it in place. Thus it says: “The golden cauldron would keep the cinnabar-colored Mercury; first let the silver from the water descend into the jade pool.” This means that to keep the cinnabar-colored Mercury, one must first place the silver from the water into the jade pool. But without true Earth guarding the central palace, how could the temperaments of the two sides be harmonized?

So true Lead needs a trusted helper to keep true Mercury in place, just as a matchmaker is needed to bring Wood and Metal together. The household aide and the matchmaker both refer to true Earth, also called the Yellow Matron, a symbol of Yin and Yang brought into harmony. Metal is firm in temperament, while Wood is yielding. Metal overcomes Wood, making it difficult for them to unite. Because Metal and Wood will not yield to each other, Lead and Mercury cannot remain together either. Only when true Earth harmonizes them can Wood stop fearing Metal’s firmness and come to value its sense of duty; Metal, in turn, stops disdaining Wood’s softness and comes to cherish its benevolence. In this way, the true Tiger and true Dragon—the Yin and Yang energies interacting in cultivation—blend with each other, and body and mind become one. The original spirit, a person’s authentic spiritual nature, then emerges. The sacred embryo, the symbolic body formed through Neidan cultivation, reaches completion, and the realized person appears. Is this not like a man becoming pregnant? This is a metaphor for refining the Golden Elixir through the meeting of the Three Families.

Whose is the “maiden of the twenty-eight,” the young woman symbol? And where is the “young lord of the ninety-three,” the male symbol? They call themselves Wood-fluid and Metal-essence, and only upon meeting Earth can they unite to form the Three Natures. Here, numbers and male and female figures stand for the different vital energies and functions involved in Neidan cultivation.

The aid of Lord Ding, a symbol of the power of tempering and refinement, is also needed to further refine them, so that husband and wife can unite in affection. The River Chariot, a Neidan term for the method of circulating vital energy, must not pause for even an instant; it carries the vital energies up to the summit of Mount Kunlun, a symbol of the crown of the head or the upper area of cultivation.

This chapter discusses the process of alchemical refinement, the union of Yin and Yang, and the formation of the Reverted Elixir. The previous chapter described Kan and Li joining to bring forth the Great Medicine and lay the foundation for the Golden Elixir, but it did not yet explain how to apply the timing and intensity of the fire during cultivation. This chapter continues the discussion through the idea of “the meeting of the three families.”

“The Maiden of Two-Eight” refers to Wood Fluid, while “the Young Lord of Nine-Three” refers to Metal Essence. At first, these two medicines are separated and cannot communicate. Only when they encounter the “True Yellow Earth of the Center”—a symbol of the intermediary that harmonizes and connects the medicines—can they be drawn together and fused. This is what is meant by “drawing the two Qi along the Yellow Path, and bringing the three natures together in the Original Palace.” The medicines are drawn together with the aid of the “Yellow Matron,” a symbol of the power that brings them into union; their harmonization depends entirely on the true fire.

“Lord Ding” refers to the gentle fire. When Metal and Wood join, they must be nurtured with gentle fire so that their natures can come together naturally, and the Great Medicine will then arise. Once it has formed, at the “Living Zi Hour”—an alchemical term for the moment when the medicine stirs and is ready to be gathered and refined—one must collect True Lead, send it into the “Earthen Crucible,” a symbol of the alchemical vessel, and continue nurturing it with gentle fire. This describes the refining and nourishing of the Golden Elixir.

When the nurturing is complete, at the “Proper Zi Hour,” one must set the “River Chariot” in motion—an internal alchemical term for guiding Qi along the body’s channels. Fire rises from the Caudal Gate, passes through the Spinal Pass and Jade Pillow, and reaches the summit of Kunlun; then fierce fire is applied for intense refinement. After Heaven and Earth unite, a speck of elixir descends into the Yellow Court, and only then does the Great Medicine enter the vessel and congeal. This describes the action of the Reverted Elixir of Golden Liquor.

After the elixir enters the vessel, it must continue to be nurtured, like an infant being fed. Through prolonged cultivation, until the sacred embryo is mature and complete and the True Person appears, the work of the nine revolutions of alchemical refinement is finished.

Just after Heaven and Earth have passed through Pi and Tai—the changes from obstruction to openness—one must discern Tun and Meng, the stages when things first emerge and remain unclear, at the turning of day and night. The spokes of a wheel converge at its hub, and a hundred rivers flow into the sea; the key lies in flexibly managing increase and decrease and applying them as needed.

By “attaining the One,” one can bring all things under one’s command. After prolonged cultivation, when the work has become fully accomplished, the sacred embryo is complete and the True Person appears; the work of the nine revolutions of alchemical refinement is finished.

“Once you attain the One, all things are complete; let go of distinctions between north, south, east, and west.” This means that when Yin-Yang is harmonized and brought into unity through cultivation, all things reach completion. “Attaining the One” refers to body and mind, together with the Qi of Yin and Yang, returning to unity. “North, south, east, and west” symbolize directions and forces that were originally dispersed but now gather in one place.

Earlier, the text describes using “the River Chariot to transport the fire” to move true Qi to Kunlun—a Daoist Neidan term for an important region within the body—so that Qian and Kun unite. Originally, Qian was above and Kun below, symbolizing the “Obstruction” hexagram of the Classic of Changes. After their union, Kun is above and Qian below, transforming into the “Peace” hexagram. During cultivation, both advancing and withdrawing the fire require care. When Yang Qi stirs, advance the fire, symbolized by the “Difficulty at the Beginning” hexagram; when Yin Qi grows still, withdraw the fire, symbolized by the “Youthful Folly” hexagram. These two hexagrams summarize the advances and retreats represented by the other hexagrams as well.

After Qian and Kun unite, a single seed of primordial true essence falls into the “Yellow Court”—a Neidan term for the central region where the body is refined and nourished—and enters the cauldron. From then on, postnatal Qi also returns to the root of life, like the thirty spokes of a wheel converging at its hub, or the hundred rivers flowing into the sea. The practitioner must also continually “draw out lead and add mercury”—a Neidan term for refining Yin and Yang and eliminating Yin Qi—until Yin Qi is completely refined and pure Yang restored. The key lies in controlling the firing times: knowing when and to what degree to refine and nourish.

Originally, Metal and Wood were separated, Water and Fire had not yet crossed, and east, west, north, and south stood apart. Now they are mixed and brought into unity. The original spirit—the person’s primordial spirit—sits at ease in Central Yellow, at the center, and the four directions all converge into one. This is what “attaining the One, all things are complete” means.

At this stage, practice should gradually diminish rather than continually increase. One need only hold to the One and abide in the center, allowing the mind and spirit to respond to things while remaining peaceful. This is the movement from deliberate practice toward Wuwei (non-action), as the Dao De Jing says: “Diminish it, and diminish it again, until you reach non-action.”

The deliberate practices described earlier serve to establish the “treasure of life,” the foundation of life gained through cultivation. Once this treasure is established, one should go on to realize one’s nature and attain the highest state. If one remains attached to the treasure of life and continues to move Jing, Qi, and Shen, one becomes trapped in deliberate methods—like reaching the shore but refusing to set down the raft used to cross the river. Even a life as long as Heaven and Earth would still belong to a fool. Therefore, the scripture warns that after practice has borne fruit, one should continue to diminish, treat the results of earlier cultivation with care, and avoid clinging to or manipulating the treasure of life recklessly.

At the winter solstice, Yang Qi begins to rise. After that, one Yang line is added each month. The beginning of the month corresponds to the Hexagram Fu (Return), which symbolizes the first emergence of Yang, and aligns most closely with dawn. After the full moon, the Yang Qi of the Hexagram Qian reaches its limit, and signs of the Hexagram Gou (Encounter), which symbolizes the first emergence of Yin, begin to appear.

The waxing and waning of cold and heat also unfold within a single day: Yang Qi begins to stir at midnight, and Yin Qi begins to arise after noon. After the hour of Wu (midday), the first Yin represented by the Hexagram Gou begins to emerge. In refining the elixir and using its ingredients, one must understand these changes between dusk and dawn.

This chapter brings together the cyclical changes of the year’s Zhou Tian, or celestial circuit, as a symbol for discerning the firing times. The refining of the Great Elixir depends entirely on firing times, yet their mysteries cannot be explained directly in words. The sages of antiquity therefore had recourse to the hexagrams of the I Ching to represent them, using the Hexagrams Fu and Gou to symbolize the “root of Heaven and the cave of the Moon”—the crucial points at which Yin and Yang arise and wane. The subtleties of Fu and Gou are equally hard to put into words, so the cycles of years, months, days, and hours are used as analogies. In broad terms, these are simply the two changes by which Yang Qi stirs into motion and Yin Qi settles into stillness.

Take the year as an example. At the winter solstice in the eleventh month, one Yang first stirs; this is called Fu. After that, one Yang line is added each month. The twelfth month is the Hexagram Lin (Approach), with two Yang lines; the first month is Tai (Peace), with three; the second is Da Zhuang (Great Strength), with four; and the third is Guai (Resoluteness), with five. By the fourth month, all six Yang lines are present, forming Qian. When Yang Qi reaches its peak, Yin Qi begins to arise. In the fifth month, one Yin first settles into stillness; this is called Gou. After that, one Yin line is added each month. The sixth month is the Hexagram Dun (Retreat), with two Yin lines; the seventh is Pi (Obstruction), with three; the eighth is Guan (Contemplation), with four; and the ninth is Bo (Stripping), with five. By the tenth month, all six Yin lines are present, forming Kun. When Yin Qi reaches its peak, Yang Qi begins to arise again. This describes the changes in firing times over the course of a year.

The sages of antiquity feared that people might fixate on the year, so they compressed its changes into a single month. The beginning of the month corresponds to Fu, when one Yang first emerges; the first quarter moon corresponds to Dui (Joy), with two Yang lines; and at the full moon, Qian is formed, complete with three Yang lines. After the full moon, Gou corresponds to the first emergence of one Yin; the last quarter moon corresponds to Gen (Keeping Still), with two Yin lines; and on the dark moon, at the end of the month, Kun is formed, complete with three Yin lines. This describes the changes in firing times over the course of a month.

Fearing that people might fixate on a single month, they then compressed the moon’s changes into a single day. At the hour of Zi, midnight, one Yang arises, corresponding to Fu; by the hour of Si, all six Yang lines are present, forming Qian. At the hour of Wu, one Yin arises, corresponding to Gou; by the hour of Hai, all six Yin lines are present, forming Kun. Thus, a single day already contains the waxing and waning of the moon over a month, as well as the alternation of cold and heat over a year. In the end, the firing times for refining the elixir are governed by the advance and retreat of Yin and Yang as they move and become still.

The first stir of one Yang resembles dawn and also corresponds to the winter solstice of the year and the new moon, or first day, of the month. On this basis, one should advance the Yang Fire. The first settling into stillness of one Yin resembles dusk and also corresponds to the summer solstice and the full moon. On this basis, one should withdraw the Yin Talisman. “Advancing the Yang Fire” means advancing in step with the emergence of Yang Qi; “withdrawing the Yin Talisman” means retreating as Yin Qi begins to arise. The changes of a year are gathered into a month, those of a month into a day, and those of a day into an hour. The key lies in the changes between Yin and Yang moving and becoming still within a single hour—that is, at the boundary between dusk and dawn. That is why the poem ends by saying, “In refining the elixir, one must understand dusk and dawn,” and sums up the point with, “Within a single double-hour, the Elixir is perfected.”

Who would imagine that even a double-hour can be gathered into a quarter-hour? And who could know that hours and quarter-hours have no fixed boundaries? This is what is meant by saying that the true Fire has no fixed firing times. Herein lies the most subtle key.

If he cannot even distinguish the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) from the Four Images—the four patterns of movement represented by Water, Fire, Wood, and Metal—how could he understand what alchemical terms such as cinnabar, mercury, lead, and silver mean? He has never even heard of the regulation of the firing process in cultivating the Golden Elixir—the careful control of timing and progress—yet already proclaims himself a master whose depths are hidden from view.

He refuses to reflect on his own mistakes. Instead, he teaches others the wrong path, leaving them forever lost. How can anyone bear to deceive their own conscience like this?

This chapter speaks of blind teachers who do not understand the mysteries of the Golden Elixir and, having taken the wrong path themselves, mislead others. The symbols and principles of the Golden Elixir originally derive from the Hetu, an ancient diagram of numbers and images. In the Hetu, the center governs the four directions; Water, Fire, Wood, and Metal are arranged in those directions and are called the “Four Images.” They converge at the central Five, or true Earth, revealing the wondrous workings of the Five Phases in creation and transformation.

These workings are already present in the human body, and each person possesses them in their entirety. Following their course gives rise to human beings and all things; cultivating in reverse enables one to become a Buddha or an immortal. Because these heavenly secrets are difficult to express directly, the ancients had no choice but to write alchemical scriptures. They drew images from the human body, close at hand, to illustrate the foundations of cultivation that everyone inherently possesses.