《慧命经》Vol. 2

It is sometimes also called the “Bright Pearl.” It has many names, but they all refer to Qi—the vital energy spoken of in Daoism. “Passing through” means traversing the three barriers along the back of the body. If one deliberately uses intention to guide it, one falls into the side path of guided exercises; if one uses no intention at all, one misses the moment to follow Qi. Neither approach enables Qi to pass through. Between deliberate guidance and complete noninterference lies a heavenly secret that must be transmitted by a master. This method is an exceptionally secret and important teaching of a thousand Buddhas and ten thousand ancestors. One should seek a teacher with sincerity; only then may one hope to understand it.

The Patriarch Bodhidharma said, “Breaking off a reed, I crossed the river.”

Crossing the river is a metaphor for the wondrous method of passing through the barriers. Unfortunately, ordinary monks who have not received the true transmission assume that the Patriarch really broke off a reed, rode it across the river, and arrived at the foot of Bear’s Ear Mountain. Is that not a misunderstanding? If he could not even cross the sea, how could he cross a river? Yet the Patriarch was born in the southern Indian kingdom of Tianzhu. After receiving the teaching, when he wished to travel east, the king gave him a great ship laden with treasures. He sailed across the sea and, after three summers and winters, came ashore at Guangzhou. At first he transmitted the teaching in the Liang dynasty, but found no one who could respond to it. Later, he formed a connection with the Wei dynasty and thereby accomplished his great undertaking. Here, “breaking off” means to reach for and take; “reed” means śarīra, the relics or sacred remains of a practitioner; “crossing” means circulation; and “river” means the path of passage.

The World-Honored One said, “One arrow pierces nine layers of iron drums.”

“Arrow” here refers to true Qi; “shooting” refers to the method by which Shen and Qi move together. “Nine layers” refers to the three barriers along the spinal column at the back of the body: the Lower Gate, the Spinal Gate, and the Jade Pillow Gate. Each barrier has an aperture on either side, which is why they are called “nine layers.” The wondrous method of passing through the barriers must proceed through the central aperture. If one takes another route, one cannot attain the Dao.

The World-Honored One also said, “Take the joy of meditation as food.”

Chan joy is a state of inner ease and contentment. “Eating” is a metaphor drawn from “eating śarīra relics”; it does not mean actually taking food. The śarīra referred to here is an essence condensed through cultivation. True Qi (the body’s vital energy) rises from the crown of the head into the throat, then returns to the central palace—the area at the body’s center associated with Neidan (internal alchemy)—which is why this process is called “eating.”

Before this “eating,” the process of cultivation may go astray, so care must be taken to prevent the śarīra from leaking away. The throat aperture should therefore be full, while the nose aperture remains open and unobstructed. A full throat aperture keeps the essence from escaping; an open nose aperture allows True Qi to circulate. Without a master’s personal guidance and instruction in how to condense śarīra, one should not rashly use the method called “passing through the nose and leading the ox by its halter”—a practice that uses the breath through the nose to guide the movement of True Qi—or recklessly direct Qi through an open aperture. Otherwise, the śarīra condensed through such arduous effort may dissipate, which would be a great loss.

The scripture also says, “The joy of the Dharma fills one completely.”

“Dharma joy spring” refers to True Qi. Once True Qi returns to the central palace, one gradually reaches a state in which food is no longer needed; hence the phrase “fills completely.” Some people go three months without eating, others four. Those whose meditative concentration is focused reach fasting more quickly; those whose concentration is scattered take longer. The fasting described here does not come from forcing oneself to endure hunger. Rather, once True Qi is abundant and the mind and spirit are settled, the desire to eat fades naturally.

The World-Honored One’s Sutra of the Original Conduct says, “When one reaches the southern bank of the Ganges, one can dwell in stillness and security, like Mount Sumeru.”

“Water” here is a metaphor based on the sound and meaning of a Sanskrit term, referring to the śarīra obtained through cultivation; the “southern bank” refers to the central palace. Once the śarīra returns to the central palace, mind and spirit and True Qi cling to one another like a magnet to iron and no longer separate. Once attained, this state can be maintained for a long time. The mind and spirit are then settled and at ease, no longer wandering in all directions. This is also what Confucianism means by “holding firmly to the Mean”—adhering to the proper and balanced way. As cultivation proceeds, discriminating and deliberative consciousness gradually fades, while one’s true nature gradually becomes clear. Delusive thoughts cease, and right awareness remains of itself. This is also what the Avataṃsaka Sutra means when it says, “Sit quietly in a still room, and constantly keep this thought.”

The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says: “Cultivation is the same as the Buddha’s, and one receives the Buddha’s vital energy. It is like an intermediate-state being—the transitional state after death and before rebirth—seeking its parents on its own, responding to them in secret and connecting with them in the unseen. Ordinary people may not perceive this, but right mindfulness can remain.” This is what the Avataṃsaka Sūtra means when it says, “Sit quietly in a chamber and contemplate in this way continually.”

The “practice” spoken of here does not mean walking or carrying out tasks. It means cultivating the Dao embryo, the embryonic form formed through internal alchemy. Once the relics—the essence and Qi gathered through cultivation—enter the central palace, the core region in internal alchemy, Shen and the Buddha’s vital energy join together. The Qi is restrained and does not disperse; Shen is settled by the Qi, and the Qi is consolidated by Shen. They draw close to one another and merge into unity. This is what is meant by “cultivation is the same as the Buddha’s, and one receives the Buddha’s vital energy.”

Human nature is Yin, so it is called the “Yin body.” The Buddha’s vital energy is like the father, and the breath is like the mother. At this stage of cultivation, one must not sink into barren stillness and non-action. The Buddha’s vital energy has the power to engender, while the breath has the power to nourish; one should use one’s nature to harmonize and strengthen these two forces. When the Buddha’s vital energy engenders, guide it back to its source to help the Dao embryo become complete. When the breath flows on, long and unbroken, guide it to gather in the Dao embryo and help it develop. This is what “seeking its parents on its own” means: one must not cling to one parent while neglecting the other.

At this point, the One Qi of the vast emptiness comes from the Bright Hall, a region referred to in internal alchemy, and returns to the central palace. The practitioner then sets the Qi mechanism in motion, opening and closing it so that Qi circulates through the whole body. Gradually, the Yin Qi throughout the body is transformed, and the body becomes pure Yang. All 360 joints and 84,000 pores throughout the body become unobstructed. This is “a hidden correspondence in the unseen”: the ordinary body seems to be forgotten, while the Dao embryo remains, revealing a Buddha body pure and free of admixture. This is the “seed of the Tathāgata.” Though within the Dao embryo there is no form or appearance, stillness and insight shine forth in full clarity. This is called “dwelling in the noble birth stage.”

The World-Honored One said: Between the heavens of the Desire Realm, where sentient beings remain governed by desire, and the heavens of the Form Realm, where beings have form bodies but have left coarse desires behind, there appears a pavilion built of the seven treasures, vast as a great trichiliocosm. There, profound Buddhist teachings are proclaimed so that the Dharma may endure for a long time.

The terms “desire” and “form” here originally come from Sanskrit and correspond, in Chinese usage, to the lower and middle Dantian. Thus the Zhiguan says that the Sanskrit term “udāna” is interpreted here as “may the Dharma endure for a long time.”

“Desire” and “form” correspond to the lower and middle Dantian. The Zhiguan also says that the Sanskrit term “udāna” is interpreted here as “Dantian.” “Transformation” refers to the subtle workings of Shen. In cultivating and refining the Dao, even though the work is done in the middle Dantian, the lower Dantian must also be attended to, so that the two can unite and transform into a state of emptiness and stillness. If the intention of Shen clings to the middle Dantian, the Dao embryo—the inner foundation of life formed through internal refinement—will be obstructed, and it will not become the “pavilion of seven treasures.”

The “three thousand” here refers to the upper, middle, and lower Dantian. Ordinary monks interpret it as one thousand for the past, one thousand for the present, and one thousand for the future, calling this “three thousand.” The author considers this interpretation incorrect. When refining śarīra, the essence obtained through internal refinement, one works in the lower Dantian; this is called “one thousand proclamations of the Dharma.” Yet the practice must circulate through the upper and middle Dantian as well. When nurturing and refining the Dao embryo, the work remains in the middle Dantian for ten months; hence the phrase “may the Dharma endure for a long time.” This, too, is called “one thousand proclamations of the Dharma.” Still, the flow of Qi must pass along the pathways of the upper and lower Dantian. When emerging from meditative absorption, the upper Dantian is also called “one thousand proclamations of the Dharma.” Together, these are called “three thousand.”

The Avataṃsaka Sūtra says: “Use the power of concentration to subdue thoughts, reaching a state of complete perfection with nothing left out.”

“Concentration” does not mean sitting rigidly without moving. One must first circulate through the upper and lower Dantian; only then can one emerge from meditative absorption.

The Avataṃsaka Sūtra says: “Use the power of concentration to subdue thoughts, reaching a state of complete perfection with nothing left out.”

“Stillness” does not mean sitting rigidly without moving, as in dry sitting meditation. Nor does it come from stubbornly suppressing thoughts or forcing oneself to seek emptiness and stillness. It is a calm and quiet state that arises naturally.

When the Sharira (condensed Jing and Qi formed through cultivation) settles in the Central Palace (the center within the body associated with refinement and nourishment), the ordinary mind grows quiet and one’s original nature comes forth. Dharma joy and meditative bliss then arise, bringing an experience of genuine peace and subtle delight. At this point, inside and outside are no longer distinct; all is one seamless whole. This kind of meditation cannot be compared with that of ordinary monks: one’s temperament becomes clear and gentle, bright as the autumn moon; the breath of life flows warmly, as if one were slightly tipsy; the mind and spirit turn inward in contemplation, while the Sharira is gently warmed and refined. The body feels as if it has been bathed, and one’s nature becomes as vast as open space. Having understood the principle of Wuwei (non-action), the six faculties—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—settle into stillness. The eight consciousnesses, as described in Buddhism, rest in clear awareness, and the Five Skandhas, the five constituents of the person and experience, return to emptiness. Although the body’s processes of generation and transformation continue, the true nature remains at ease and unmoving, undisturbed by them.

“The World-Honored One said: ‘He came in accordance with principle and departed in accordance with principle.’” This means that the World-Honored One said: one comes in accordance with principle and departs in accordance with principle.

The preceding passage describes the signs of obtaining the Sharira. Here, the text explains the method for first entering the path of cultivation. “Coming and going” serves as a metaphor for the breath. The scripture points out that cultivating the inner embryonic breath must first rely on breathing; only afterward can one depart, as described, free from the ties of birth and death and the external world.

The preceding passage discusses the signs of having cultivated a śarīra, a crystallized result of practice. Here, it explains the method for those just entering the path of cultivation. “Coming and going” is a metaphor for the breath. The scripture points out that cultivating Neidan (internal alchemy) and forming the Dao embryo depend on regulating the breath. Only then can one gradually transcend birth and death and external conditions, attaining stillness. Hence it says, “Come in accordance with principle; go in accordance with principle.”

The Chan master says, “Before you reach the end of the flowing water and the end of the mountain path, take this stretch of time as your companion.” This means that before practice reaches its ultimate destination, one should settle into the present and continue diligently.

After a person leaves the womb, the original Qi (primordial life energy) and the breath that were present in the womb both disperse outward. In daily life, the Dantian (energy center in the abdomen) does not hold a gathered fetal breath. Only by realizing the method of fetal breathing can a practitioner concentrate the Shen (spirit), settle the original Qi, cultivate a śarīra, and restore the original Qi to the Dantian. The breath, too, must be returned there. The original Qi is the foundation for forming the Dao embryo, while the breath is the source that nourishes the path of cultivation. One must also understand that the mind should guide the regulation of the breath: when breathing is not yet steady, use the mind to harmonize it. If the breath is not harmonized, it cannot settle, and one cannot realize the Dao.

For this reason, regulating the breath is crucial in the initial stage of cultivating the Dao embryo. “Come in accordance with principle; go in accordance with principle” refers to this practice. The scripture also says, “Why practice for six years in the Snowy Mountains? To remain steadfast in one’s resolve and harmonize Qi and Shen; to regulate the breath continuously through a hundred ke, an ancient unit of time, until one is aware only of a single breath. Only then does one understand the Great Dao as manifesting in the Three Vehicles, three paths that guide beings in practice.” The emphasis here is on steadfast resolve, harmonizing Qi and Shen, and continuing the practice of regulating the breath.

The Tathāgata, an honorific title for the Buddha, says, “Nirvana with remainder.”

“Remainder” means that breath still remains. In the initial stage of cultivating the Dao embryo, the mind rests on the breath, and the breath follows the mind. Breathing should be neither hurried nor forced; let it proceed naturally. One should neither let the mind wander nor allow the breath to become confused and disordered. True fetal breathing is difficult to perceive, yet it continues to move within the body. It may seem empty, as though there were no breathing, but the breath has not actually ceased. Thus, an explanation of the Diamond Sutra says, “Who knows who arranged it deliberately, gathering it up and then letting it go? Do not think that the Tathāgata has become extinct: after one sound, another follows.” This describes the mutual dependence of mind and breath.

The Brahma Scripture of Precepts says: “Following the one true principle, one moves within the unborn Void, the still realm beyond arising and ceasing. All Buddhas and sages abide together within the unborn Void.”

To move by following the one true principle means that precelestial Qi, the original Qi one is endowed with from before birth, and postcelestial Qi work together, connecting and circulating through one another. They gently warm and nourish the Dao embryo, the inner source of the embryo spoken of in cultivation, while moving at a natural pace, neither hurried nor slow. Some people today undertake intensive Chan meditation retreats lasting seven days and call this “practice in accord with truth.” Is that not a misunderstanding? The Avatamsaka Sutra therefore says: “The path of the great immortal Tathagata is subtle and difficult to know.” When precelestial and postcelestial Qi blend, Shen and Qi merge completely. One feels as if freshly bathed and mildly intoxicated, at ease in body and mind. Dwelling between the desire realm and the form realm, one is free of attachment and obstruction, open, clear, and transparent. This is called the “unborn Void.”

The World-Honored One called it the “Tathagata treasury that is empty yet not empty”: the nature that is both empty and still, yet contains wondrous activity.

The passage above speaks of the “unborn Void,” but to prevent people from falling into the view of nihilistic extinction—that everything is utterly destroyed and nothing exists—it now says “empty yet not empty.” Emptiness does not mean that nothing exists at all; it is stillness in which awareness is ever present. But “not empty” might lead people into the view of permanence, that things endure forever without change. So it also says “not empty, yet like emptiness”: awareness is present, yet remains still and free of attachment.

The Buddha Dipankara said: “When arising and ceasing have both ceased…”

“When arising and ceasing have both ceased” means that the movement of breath within the Dao embryo gradually settles into stillness, though changes of bending and stretching, coming and going, remain. These are therefore called “arising and ceasing.” The practitioner must continue to maintain the practice until these changes finally come to rest.

The phrase also means that although the breath within the Dao embryo has settled, signs of bending and stretching remain. One must continue to maintain the practice until even these signs disappear; only then has cessation been completed. Those who know only that Shen exists, but do not know that Qi also remains within the embryo, and so claim that “the myriad dharmas return to the One,” are mistaken. The method of realizing the mind must be grounded in the Dao embryo. To return to the Dharma is to return to the Dao embryo. If there is no Dao embryo, no relic—the subtle inner substance formed through cultivation—and no Qi of the true origin, yet one forces the mind to remain still and calls this “cessation completed,” then any claim to have realized the Dao is false.

The Diamond Sutra says: “A Bodhisattva should settle the mind only in accordance with the method taught.”

For a bodhisattva to attain Buddhahood, the mind must first settle in accordance with the teachings; only then can realization be attained. Thus the scripture says that one who wishes to follow the Buddha’s path should settle the mind as the Buddha taught. The “teaching” referred to here is the Dao embryo: a state of cultivation in which Shen and Qi unite, like a fetus developing in the womb. To make the Dao embryo stable and complete, one must first settle the mind. The key is to calm the mind and spirit through the Samadhi of the True Breath, a meditative state of focused attention on the inner breath. Once the mind is settled, it will not be drawn out and confused by the six dusts—the external objects of sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, and thought. This right concentration makes right awakening possible. This is what the Avatamsaka Sutra means when it says, “In the first dhyana, thoughts come to rest; in the second, the breath comes to rest.”

The Shurangama Sutra says, “Having entered the Dao embryo, one serves and responds to awakening.” This describes Shen entering Qi, with Qi enveloping Shen; the two become wholly blended in profound stillness, as if dwelling in a mother’s womb. This state is called the “Dao embryo.” The sutra also says that before giving birth, parents bring forth life through their own creative transformation, possessing a vast power to gather and encompass all things. Hence the phrase “serving and responding to awakening.”

The Diamond Sutra says, “A bodhisattva should dwell nowhere in the Dharma, and should practice giving.”

The earlier discussion explained that to regulate the mind, one must first settle it through fetal breathing, a practice of breathing as subtly and continuously as a fetus. Once the mind is settled, however, one must not become attached to the breath. If one is constantly thinking about and clinging to it, the breath becomes a constraint, just as the mind is constrained by the six faculties—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—and one has not truly attained liberation. That is why the scripture says not to cling to any Dharma, while still practicing giving. Here, “Dharma” refers to the breath: once the mind is settled, one should also let go of attachment to breathing. As the sages of old said, “To cross a river, you need a raft; once you reach the far shore, you need not carry it.” A raft is needed to cross the river, but once ashore, there is no need to carry it along.

The Avatamsaka Sutra says, “Abiding in the stillness of the various dhyanas, wisdom enters the way of the deathless.” This means that by abiding in the stillness of the various meditative states, wisdom can enter the deathless way.

When a practitioner who abides in stillness enters meditation, the breath ceases, and the six pulses in both hands also stop. Body and mind become wholly unified, resting in a profoundly deep state of samādhi, entirely free of arising, ceasing, or change. This is what the Avataṃsaka Sūtra calls “the pulses resting in the third meditation.” When the senses and the activities of body and mind settle, one can experience what is called “eternity, bliss, and self.” “Stillness-born wisdom” refers to true awareness within meditation. Abiding in stillness and bringing the meditative state to completion, one can attain perfect, equal, and complete awakening. This is the way of the “true person who does not die,” and the state the Tathāgata realized for himself.

The World-Honored One said, “Nirvana without remainder.”

“Without remainder” means that both inhalation and exhalation have ceased. “Nirvana” is not death, but the blissful state of meditative samādhi, or deep concentration. When the six faculties—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—fall still, external conditions no longer stir body and mind. One’s nature becomes wholly integrated, the light of wisdom shines with perfect clarity, and it is as though the entire Dharma realm has returned to empty stillness. This is the wondrous state of “nirvana without remainder.” It is also what the Tathāgata meant when he said that, strictly speaking, he had not received a prediction from Dipankara Buddha, yet his own numinous light had always shone through past and present.

The Avataṃsaka Sūtra says, “Always abide in pure mindfulness and dwell in unsurpassed awakening.”

“Pure mindfulness” means neither clinging to the illusions of the mundane world nor being bound by the names and concepts of Buddhist teachings. It is right mindfulness, free of arising and ceasing, that abides in meditation—in other words, what the Avataṃsaka Sūtra calls “the fourth meditation, the concentration of cessation.” “Unsurpassed awakening” is the complete realization of the Buddha’s path: wisdom’s light shines everywhere, unrestricted by day or night; one attains great freedom and possesses all six supernatural powers. When thought abides in stillness, wisdom naturally manifests. One must not deliberately wield that wisdom. If one fails to maintain the meditative state and, out of attachment to extraordinary experiences, actively uses it, one becomes attached to demonic states and is disturbed by the discriminating consciousness, thereby damaging the fruits of one’s previous practice.

Dipankara Buddha said, “In quiescent cessation lies bliss.”

“Quiescent cessation” is not death, but the true realization in which the embryonic origin is perfected and the essence of one’s nature is thoroughly penetrated. Thus the Śūraṅgama Sūtra says: “Awakening.”

“Extinction” does not mean that a person has died. It refers to the confirmed realization of a state in which the Dao embryo is complete and the nature-body has been fully revealed. The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says that when the path of awakening is perfected, Buddha-nature appears: silent and still, with clear and penetrating wisdom, radiant light, and settled awareness. In Wuwei (non-action), the mind is free of delusion, and the nature-body is no longer governed by arising and ceasing. This is what the Sixth Patriarch calls “a Chan mind without thought, a Chan nature unborn.” The scripture also uses “the six pulses entirely absent, the breath through the nose completely stilled” to describe the state of deep concentration. This refers to stillness in cultivation, not to death.

The Dao embryo and Buddha-nature merge in radiance, like the rising sun. This is therefore called “bliss,” and also “true emptiness and Wuwei.” At this stage of cultivation, unusual visions may arise, such as snowflakes drifting through the air or scenes appearing as one emerges from concentration. One may also feel that one’s thoughts have crossed Mount Sumeru, the great mountain in Buddhist cosmology. But unless one has reached deep concentration, these should not be taken as signs that it is time to emerge from concentration. Emerging prematurely on one’s own may lead into a demonic state. If visions arise and one clings to them, waiting for more and refusing to emerge, the scripture calls this “guarding a corpse like a ghost”: such a person has neither spiritual powers nor wisdom, but is simply deluded. Maitreya Buddha’s saying, “Even if one cultivates for eighty thousand kalpas, one will ultimately fall into emptiness and extinction,” refers to this very situation.

The scripture therefore says that the key to guiding the śarīra—the gathered vital energy or inner fruit of cultivation—through the passes is to observe through stillness and guide it gently. When passing through dangerous, narrow points, one must keep the movement of Qi from becoming scattered in every direction. Once Qi begins to move, guide and support it gently on its way. Nourish it with “gentle fire,” a mild and sustained process of refinement, and with the two Qi of Yin and Yang. At the same time, cultivate silent observation and release discriminating thoughts, allowing the mind to settle. In this way, the method of cultivating the Dao embryo can be brought to completion.

This passage again explains how to nurture the śarīra and cultivate the Dao embryo: silent observation is the proper method for obtaining the śarīra. If, in cultivation, one cannot maintain stillness and concentration, or fails to combine observation with releasing discriminating thoughts, it will be difficult for the embryo to settle and form.

This repeatedly explains the methods of “quiet illumination, guarding, and nurturing the embryo”—that is, how to gather and preserve the śarīra, the essence and Qi condensed through cultivation. “Quiet illumination” is the essential practice for attaining the śarīra: if the mind is not still, essence and Qi cannot arise; if the mind does not observe clearly, essence and Qi cannot be refined. This shows that the method of quiet illumination is indispensable.

The World-Honored One said that the pathways along which the mind and spirit are directed lie at the Yang Pass, the anus, and the nasal openings. These are all places where essence and Qi are easily lost. They must first be restrained with ritual implements—that is, methods used in cultivation to gather and regulate the mind, spirit, and Qi—in order to prevent danger. Without instruction from a true master, these three places are especially likely to stir deluded thoughts and cause essence and Qi to disperse. During cultivation, one must guide essence and Qi to flow, bring their movement into harmony, and protect them with focused intent. This is why one is told to “guard the precious pearl well.” At this point, it is like crossing a small bridge: wait for the Qi mechanism to stir before proceeding, and guard it gently and carefully.

The Dao embryo, an inner state of fetal breathing and spiritual awareness formed through cultivation, is nurtured by the Qi of the śarīra, as though it were not sustained by ordinary breathing. A practitioner emerging from meditative absorption is like a person once in the womb: first formed by the two Qi of Yin and Yang, then nourished by the mother’s breathing. When the mother exhales, the fetus exhales with her; when the mother inhales, the fetus inhales with her. The Dao embryo is the same. When it first forms, it is gently warmed and nourished by the fire of breathing. After five or six months, the two Qi of Yin and Yang gradually grow faint. By the eighth or ninth month, they have settled completely; one is aware only of spirit and no longer perceives Qi.

If, at this point, one takes “emptiness” to mean a stubborn, unmoving nothingness, one falls into the view of annihilation—the belief that everything ultimately ceases to exist. Thus, although it is empty, it cannot be called entirely nothing. This is “stillness that is always illuminating”: the mind is quiet, yet awareness remains. If, when it is “not empty,” one knows only that thoughts are endless and unceasing, one falls into the view of permanence—the belief that things endure forever. Thus, although it is not empty, it is as if empty. This is “illumination that is always still”: awareness is present, yet the mind remains quiet. When one enters the great meditative absorption in which all is blended into unity, the signs of emerging from absorption also appear.

These essential instructions have never been stated plainly. They have often been conveyed through inverted metaphors, making them difficult to understand. I have brought together the meaning of each section and written a complete explanation, believing that it can serve as a boat and a set of steps for later students of Buddhism.

Doesn’t the fifty-volume Avataṃsaka Sūtra also say that the World-Honored One emitted a great radiance from the white tuft between his brows, called “The Tathāgata’s Appearance”?

The passage below describes the visions that appear when emerging from meditative absorption. Earlier, it spoke only of nurturing the embryo, without clearly explaining when to emerge from absorption. Out of great compassion, the Tathagata points this out so that later generations may understand the principles of emerging from absorption. The phrase “emerging from the light of the white tuft between the eyebrows” leaves a testimony for ages to come. The subtle key to emerging from absorption is not something ordinary monks can readily grasp. From the Han dynasty to the present day, how many people have truly witnessed and understood what happens? This is the Tathagata’s own personal verification of the matter.

When emerging from absorption, one may sometimes emit white light and sometimes golden light. If practitioners see this light, they should ask their masters how to gather it in; if they do not, it will disperse. If the embodied form cannot yet transform into the formless, this shows that although one has realized the wonder of one’s original nature, cultivation of the body is still incomplete. This has not yet reached the complete teaching of stillness and Wuwei (non-action) transmitted by the World-Honored One and Bodhidharma. Practitioners should seek a teacher’s guidance as soon as possible; otherwise, if they miss the opportunity, it may be difficult to find it again.

Chan Master Jiwumei said: “When the embryo is complete, the appointed time has arrived, and snowflakes dance in the air. At the movement of a thought, one rises lightly upward: this is the crucial point. Do not think that the Tathagata’s Way is merely withered stillness and Wuwei. The Dharma Body—the pure body formed through cultivation—emerges from stillness and then returns to stillness.”

This passage concerns the moment of emerging from absorption: if one should emerge but does not, one will remain in the realm of the Dharma Body, bound by the state of absorption, unable to exercise spiritual powers or manifest hundreds of millions of emanations. “The embryo is complete and the appointed time has arrived” means that cultivation of the Dao embryo has reached completion and the time is ripe. “Snowflakes dance” describes the vision that appears as one leaves the realm of stillness, after which one returns to stillness.

This is the time to emerge from samadhi. When the time comes, if one still does not emerge, one will stagnate within the Dharma-body (the pure bodily form that manifests during cultivation), bound by the state of samadhi and unable to exercise spiritual powers. The scripture’s phrases “hundreds of millions of emanation bodies” and “the embryo is complete and its stages fulfilled” refer to the Dao embryo’s cultivation reaching completion and one’s spiritual practice attaining its utmost level.

To see a snowflake-like vision leave the ordinary body, with the mind then stirring and moving toward empty space, yet not understand the crucial point, shows that one has not received a master’s instruction. Some practitioners in monastic communities today do nothing but sit quietly and gather in their thoughts, then consider themselves accomplished. They deceive donors and later students, harming themselves and misleading others. They do not understand the Tathagata’s white light or the snowflake vision described by the patriarchs. They have become monastics in vain, relying on the protection of Buddhist teaching and accepting donors’ offerings while forgetting their parents’ great kindness. It is a pity that men who stand tall between Heaven and Earth do not understand this path of cultivation.

When the Dharma-body emerges from samadhi and leaves the ordinary body, it should immediately return to the Mud Pill (a site of cultivation in the head), where it should nurture the pure, unified Qi for seven days before emerging from samadhi again. During the first emergence, one may see majestic and wondrous visions of Buddhas, patriarchs, or bodhisattvas. Under no circumstances should one assume that these are real Buddhas or bodhisattvas; the scripture regards them as visions transformed by demons. Insisting that they are real can lead one astray, cause one to lose one’s hold on oneself, and leave one unable to find a place of return.

If cultivation ends here in stillness and extinction while Buddhahood remains incomplete, it will be difficult to establish a firm foundation, and one may be reborn in a later life. One must therefore cultivate through the ninth and tenth grounds, then advance to the eleventh ground, “Equal Enlightenment,” to transcend the delusions of the Formless Realm. During the first emergence from samadhi, the Dharma-body leaves the physical body by about three to five feet. Do not be alarmed or attach to any vision. Wait until a golden light the size of a chariot wheel appears; then direct the mind into the light and gather one’s nature and mind within it. This is the essential foundation of transforming one’s form.

The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says: “When the form is formed and emerges from the womb, it draws near to the Buddha’s path and becomes a child of the Buddha.”

After ten months, nourished by the two Qi, the Dao embryo’s body is complete and its nature and mind are settled. This is called “forming the body and emerging from samadhi.” At this point, wisdom is vast: nothing is unseen or unknown. When it emerges, it seems to have form; when it enters, it has no form. When gathered, it manifests a body; when dispersed, it leaves no trace to depend on. Its light shines throughout the Dharma-realm, and spirits and ghosts protect it; hence it is called a “child of the Buddha.”

The Lotus Sutra records that the World-Honored One—a title of respect for the Buddha—radiated light from the white tuft of hair between his eyebrows. It illuminated eighteen thousand worlds in the east, revealing everything from the Avici Hell, the deepest hell in Buddhist cosmology, to the Akanistha Heaven, the highest heaven in the Realm of Form. The same was true in the south, west, and north.

After emerging from meditation, the Dharma Body—the pure original nature realized by a practitioner—can, through long cultivation, see everything as clearly as if it were on the palm of one’s hand. The Akanistha Heaven is the summit of the Realm of Form and is also called the Heaven of Ultimate Form. The Dao Embryo, the sacred embryo in internal alchemy, attains meditative stability after ten months of cultivation. When practice reaches this level, emerging from meditation enables one to arrive there. One can see in all four directions, above and below; this is not the result of deliberately seeking to see, but happens naturally.

The Tathagata, the Greatly Awakened Golden Immortal—a title of respect for the Buddha—says: From the protuberance of flesh at the crown of the head, the Buddha’s topknot, a hundred kinds of jeweled light stream forth. Within the light appears a thousand-petaled jeweled lotus, upon which a manifested Tathagata sits.

This passage holds that these are the words the Śūraṅgama Sūtra teaches people to recite morning and evening. Ordinary monks, however, do not know their origins, so they recite them without understanding their meaning.

“Golden Immortal” is a title the World-Honored One (the Buddha) uses for himself in the Avataṃsaka Sūtra. He is also called the “Great Immortal,” the “Seven Immortals,” or the “Assembly of Immortals”; the titles are not fixed. Liaoran asks: “Buddhist monks today call the Immortal Way a lesser path. Why, then, does the Tathāgata call himself one of the ‘Four Immortals’?” The answer is that Buddhas make no distinctions between one another; ordinary monks are the ones who do. The Tathāgata calls himself one of the “Four Immortals” precisely to encourage all who cultivate the Dao to stop clinging to religious factions and to turn toward the “Way of the Wisdom-Life,” the fundamental path of cultivating wisdom and life taught by the World-Honored One.

Liaoran also asks: “The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says that, once the rewards of the ten kinds of immortals are exhausted, they still fall into ruin. Why?” The answer is that when the ten kinds of immortals began their cultivation, they had not followed the Way of the Wisdom-Life, but instead practiced lesser methods from side paths. Even if they succeeded, what they gained was only a lesser attainment, so they would still fall. Those who begin with the Way of the Wisdom-Life are not called the ten kinds of immortals, but Golden Immortals. Here, “gold” belongs to the West and in fact refers to Qi (vital energy), the life force in Daoist teaching. Qi is Yang, while Shen (spirit) is Yin. When a Yin spirit receives Yang Qi, it becomes a Yang spirit. Ordinary people can see a Yang spirit, and it can pick up objects; they can neither see a Yin spirit nor have it pick up objects.

The World-Honored One said that when he had just attained perfect enlightenment, he first entered a state of meditation in the Dragon Palace for seven days. He then meditated beneath the Bodhi tree for seven days, and afterward in the Milk Forest for seven times seven days, or forty-nine days, during which he ate nothing.

After emerging from samadhi (focused meditative stillness), first nourish and cultivate for seven days, then enter samadhi again. After that, nourish and cultivate for fourteen days, then twenty-one days, continuing until emerging only after forty-nine days of cultivation.

The “milk” mentioned here borrows a term from Western Sanskrit. In China it is called “nourishment through nursing.” It is like a baby leaving the womb: though it already has a human form, it cannot yet walk far or speak. It needs its mother to nurse it day and night before it can walk and speak on its own and gradually develop its intelligence. So it is with a Buddhist practitioner after emerging from samadhi: the practitioner must be nourished day and night within the Nivan (an inner realm described in cultivation), without eating or drinking, so that wisdom can grow and transformations unfold—from one becoming two, and two becoming three, through transformations without end. This is why it is called the “hundreds of millions of transformation bodies.”

Someone asked, “The Five Lamps Meeting at the Source says that entering samadhi belongs to the outer paths. Does speaking of entering samadhi here not also mean following an outer path?” The answer was: The Five Lamps Meeting at the Source calls entering samadhi an outer path when it refers to someone who has not attained the Way of the Wisdom-Life Relic, but merely gathers the mind and spirit inward and enters samadhi. The author considers this a method for cultivating the Yin spirit, not the Yang spirit, and so calls it an outer path. The samadhi described here, by contrast, is the process of entering samadhi again after cultivating the embryo of the Intent-Life and Relic Way, completing the embryo, and giving birth to it. The Five Lamps Meeting at the Source does not distinguish between these methods, treating different circumstances as one, and thereby confusing later generations.

The author also says that the Sixth Patriarch’s Way of the Wisdom-Life was indeed kept secret and not transmitted. What was passed down was only solitary cultivation of nature, which is why people did not know the Way of entering samadhi through forty-nine days of nourishment practiced by the World-Honored One. If they do not understand the World-Honored One’s Wisdom-Life embryo, yet call all samadhi an outer path, then was the World-Honored One’s own cultivation also an outer path? How could later generations dare to honor him as the Supreme One? The World-Honored One also said that he had entered samadhi for eighty thousand kalpas. Could all of that, too, have been an outer path? The scripture’s account of going seven times seven days, or forty-nine days, without food describes a state of cultivation personally realized by the World-Honored One. If someone would die after three days without food, what would that amount to?

Those who study Buddhism should seek a qualified teacher’s guidance in the Way of the Wisdom-Life Relic and its embryo as early as possible; only then is there hope of completing the cultivation. Otherwise, nine out of ten attempts will come to nothing, and in the end one will willingly wither away and die. However mysterious it may seem, it amounts only to the consciousness-spirit and solitary soul produced by cultivating nature alone.

The World-Honored One said, “Guard and remember the true Dharma, so that it may abide for a long time.”

This refers to gathering true awareness into the Mud Pill (the central place of cultivation in the head) and gently nourishing it through a practice likened to feeding with milk. The “milk” mentioned earlier is this method of guarding awareness. “Abiding for a long time” means that true awareness should remain settled in the Mud Pill; this is therefore called “great samadhi” (a state in which the mind and spirit are calm, focused, and unmoving).

The Avatamsaka Sutra says, “Though one has realized the realm of quiescence, one must still practice diligently in order to go beyond the unmoving state that is like empty space. The Buddha urges people to rise from quiescence and widely cultivate the many works of wisdom.”

The earlier phrase “abiding for a long time” refers to entering the realm of quiescence after thoughts of arising and ceasing have been extinguished. Even after quiescence has been realized, one must continue to practice so that this state becomes firmly established for a long time, completely unmoving like empty space. The Buddha instructs people that even upon first realizing quiescence, they should practice diligently so that wisdom continues to grow. Emptiness must become still emptier, and voidness still more void; hence the saying, “Even if the realm of empty space were exhausted, my practice would never come to an end.”

The Avatamsaka Sutra also says, “Abide always in nirvana, like empty space.”

One’s original nature is like empty space, yet it does not cling to the appearance of “empty space”; this is why it is said to be “like empty space.” If one clings to the appearance of empty space, then “empty space” still remains in the mind and can become a constraint. It is no longer true emptiness. Empty space is simply as it is by nature, not something deliberately made; hence the phrase “like empty space.”

The scripture also says, “Let the mind remain constantly in right samadhi, eliminate all attachments to what appears in awareness, and allow all wisdom to manifest. Then remain unmoving, undisturbed by external conditions, and enter the formless samadhi (a meditative state that transcends forms and takes mental activity as its object).”

This is what is meant by returning to the empty and tranquil nature. When one reaches a state like open space, the true mind remains constantly at rest, all forms of wisdom and contemplation cease, and mind and its objects become one, boundless and limitless. Some people cultivate steadily for three years, others for nine; then the small amount of golden true fire within them is gathered and stored. Through prolonged cultivation, the ordinary body is transformed into Qi, the Daoist vital energy of life; consciousness becomes mysterious, and the body too takes on a mysterious form.

For example, after the World-Honored One, Shakyamuni Buddha, entered nirvana, his mother came to mourn him. He then rose into the sky and preached the Dharma to her again. After Bodhidharma entered nirvana at Shaolin Temple, he journeyed west carrying only one shoe. Along the way, he personally spoke with and took leave of the prime minister, asking him to deliver a letter to Shaolin Temple. The prime minister returned to the temple and opened the coffin to look inside: there was no body, only an empty coffin. Another example is Jiwu at Taiyi, who could repeatedly transform his mortal body and disappear without a trace. Sometimes he gave people gold and silver, sometimes beautiful women; at other times he appeared as a tiger or a dragon, and he could travel ten thousand miles and back in an instant. How could we take lightly the state of constant inner calm attained by a Chan master who withdrew to Mount Lu and returned to empty stillness? This is why the World-Honored One spoke of entering samadhi for eighty thousand kalpas: he was describing precisely this state.

The Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment says, “The Tathagata’s perfect enlightenment.”

Perfect enlightenment means that one’s nature returns to open space and reaches the utmost stillness. There is no distinction between ordinary people and sages, nor any division between day and night; only the nature unites with the Great Void. This is precisely what Shao Yong meant when he said, “The Dao extends beyond all that has form in Heaven and Earth; thought enters into the transformations of wind and cloud.” Even when Heaven and Earth undergo the destruction of a kalpa, this nature is not destroyed. Thus the Sutra of Amitabha says that Amitabha Buddha attained Buddhahood ten kalpas ago.

The Avatamsaka Sutra says, “The nature of the Dharma is like open space; all Buddhas abide within it.”

Since human nature is like empty space, there is originally nothing more to do. Yet the scripture also says one must abide within it; this indeed points to a principle of returning to the source. Many people have not understood that this is precisely the wondrous method of refining emptiness, and the secret of allowing one’s true nature to return to the Central Palace, the inner center.

The Central Palace is what the Tathagata calls the Sea of Vairocana Nature, a vast and profound realm of Buddha-nature, like the sea. Let the true nature abide in this Sea of Nature, as though tending a dragon pearl, untouched by external things. Through the cessation of all formations, a profound meditation that brings thoughts and sensations to rest, let it become still. Even if light appears, gather it in and conceal it. Enter meditation again and again, and cultivate for a long time; then the light of one’s nature will transform into śarīra relics. Light wells up from the Sea of Nature and becomes countless rays, penetrating the vast expanse and meeting the ancient Buddhas and Tathagatas.

Thus the Great Awakening Chan Master said, “A single śarīra shines with splendid light, illuminating countless eons without end; the entire great thousandfold world turns toward it.” The Heze Chan Master also said, “The original face is suchness itself; recognize it in the light of the śarīra. For ten thousand eons the original mind was lost; only now, at last awakened, do we know that our own nature is Manjushri.” This is precisely the principle being described.

All that has been explained above concerns the wondrous methods of guiding the śarīra through the passes, nurturing the Dao embryo, and emerging from meditation to return to emptiness. The Dao of the wisdom-life—the luminous true nature and root of life spoken of in cultivation—is all contained here. I would not dare claim that the wondrous Dao in this collection is my own; it gathers the true instructions passed down by the sages of old. Those who come later, having endured countless eons and resolved to cultivate, may thereby understand the Buddha Dao and nurture the root of the wisdom-life. If readers can realize these teachings for themselves and accord with the true intent of the Buddhas and Patriarchs, they may fulfill themselves, help others, and attain the fruition of the Buddha Dao.

A Direct Treatise on Cultivating the True Dao, Part Ten

Huayang says: Cultivation means repairing what has been damaged so that it may be restored to wholeness.

At birth, a person is endowed with a complete body of nature and life. By adulthood, the original Qi is abundant, yet it is gradually depleted. Before this depletion begins, if one encounters a clear-sighted master who offers guidance, there is no need to use some separate method of replenishment. Instead, one can repair what has been lost as it is depleted and restore it to wholeness.

At birth, every person is endowed with a complete nature and life. When adulthood arrives and primordial Qi is abundant, that Qi begins to dissipate of its own accord. If, before the body has suffered any depletion, one encounters a clear-sighted teacher’s guidance, there is no need for methods of replenishment: one can suddenly transcend and reach the state of the Tathagata. Those who are already depleted must make good their losses and restore wholeness. To replenish what is lacking, one draws on the mechanisms by which body and mind are activated, gathering back the Qi that has flowed outward. When Qi is full and the life force no longer stirs recklessly, the sign known as “horse Yin” appears—a cultivation sign in which male sexual function subsides and the body undergoes a change. This is called the “Deathless Arhat,” a term for an adept who has attained realization through Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy).

To refine is to use fire to transform matter. The “matter” spoken of here is nothing other than one’s own primordial Qi. Although primordial Qi is stored in the Qi cavity, the place within the body where it is nurtured, when it is stirred it flows outward and becomes the source of depletion. Now it is gathered back to its origin and refined by fire, so that it can be transformed into Qi.

Without wind, fire cannot burn.

The earlier passage speaks of using fire to refine matter. Since people might not know that “wind” is also needed, it makes this point explicit: the breath must be used to fan and drive the fire, so that it can burn and refine matter into Qi.

Without a place to dwell, matter has nowhere to settle.

The “dwelling” here is the Qi cavity. Primordial Qi originally emerges from the Qi cavity as it is generated. Now it must be guided back there and refined with fire and wind; the process takes place in that same location.

Thus, when those who have attained the Dao contemplate the Great Dao and cultivate nature and life, they bring wind, fire, and matter together and use them as one. To direct the mind into the Qi cavity and then use the breath to blow inward against its outward course—is this not to employ all these elements at once?

From ancient times to the present, all who have achieved attainment by this Dao have regarded it as essential. Whether in ages thousands of generations past or yet to come, anyone seeking to cultivate this Dao has to do with nothing other than nature and life. And to unite nature and life, one uses nothing other than wind and fire. This is what is meant by saying that under Heaven there are not two Daos, and the sages have not two different minds.

Why do so few people understand this principle, while so many remain ignorant of it? Cultivating nature and life together ultimately depends on wind and fire—the two functions or forces involved in Neidan practice. The saying, “Under Heaven there are not two Ways, and the sages have not two minds,” expresses precisely this principle.

People in the world who study Buddhism recite scriptures, pay homage to the Buddha, and observe precepts day after day; some also practice meditation while seated. Yet when it comes to “nature and life,” hardly anyone truly understands these words.

Those who cling to cultivating nature alone, without understanding life or the changes between movement and stillness in practice, often end up merely wasting their years.

Today, some Buddhist practitioners believe that Buddhism cultivates nature but not life. In fact, the Buddha’s vast teachings place importance on the dual cultivation of nature and life, and on the complementary use of being and nonbeing. If one stubbornly practices seated meditation without understanding how cultivation is set in motion, one may be able to practice with focus at first. But over time, when no results appear, regret arises, and one ultimately wastes one’s life in vain. What good does that do?

When the activity of life dissipates outward, once it is exhausted, a person can scarcely continue to live. Where, then, can nature reside, and how can the Dao exist?

Today, Buddhist practitioners who have not received the Buddha’s true transmission may cling to cultivating nature alone, without understanding the treasure of life—the foundation that sustains life and practice. Once the life of wisdom, the basis of life in the Dao, has been set in motion, they may not know how to gather it in and settle it. Even if it does not become a complete loss, it will dissipate on its own. Once it is exhausted, how could one avoid death? And after death, what would one have with which to cultivate the Dao?

For this reason, those who attain the Dao observe the changes between movement and stillness and practice according to the principle of cultivating nature and life together.

Some ordinary people, as soon as they set out to cultivate, leave their parents, wives, and children and hide alone in remote mountain valleys, or move into grand hermitages, Daoist temples, or monasteries. They think that quietude alone will enable them to cultivate the Dao, but this is truly laughable. Those seeking genuine instruction who only know how to sit in stillness, without understanding how to grasp the moment when body and mind become active, are like cats watching over an empty hole: utterly ineffectual. Thus the Tathagata of Purple-Gold Radiance—the Buddha named in the text—said, “If you do not understand movement and stillness, studying the Dao will bring you no benefit.”

A true cultivator of the Dao first quiets the mind and waits for the original Qi (vital energy) in the kidneys to stir. Then they direct their intention into the place where it is stirring and cultivate by bringing the mind and kidneys into union. When mind and kidneys unite, nature and life become one; this is what the ancients meant by the “image of unity.”

The root of life lies in the kidneys. When the kidneys stir, they belong to Water. What is called “life” is the original Qi; when the original Qi stirs, it transforms into water.

The root of nature lies in the heart. When the heart stirs, it belongs to Fire. What is called “nature” is true intent; when true intent stirs, it transforms into fire. To guide fire into water is to direct the thoughts of the heart into the original Qi of the kidneys. In this way, the wisdom-life will not be depleted outwardly, and the original Qi, steadied with the aid of true intent, will not rush outward and dissipate.

Then use wind to fan the fire, transforming it until it condenses into the true seed.

The “wind” mentioned here means the breath, and the “fire” means intention. The preceding passage says that Qi (vital energy within) must accord with intention in order to settle and not dissipate outward. Yet there are still “shadows of rosy clouds” within the body—that is, residual Yin energy and desires that have not yet been transformed. The breath must therefore be used to blow backward upon the fire of intention in the furnace, refining these remnants and transforming them into Qi.

Without this practice, they will run rampant and disturb the mind, setting thoughts and desires in turmoil. As Mencius said, Qi can also unsettle the will. The Śūraṅgama Sūtra calls such disturbances that hinder cultivation “yin demons.” The practitioner must keep refining them over a long period, transforming the yin demons into sunlight. Then body and mind become peaceful, and passions no longer cause disturbance. This is what the World-Honored One meant by entering the “fire of samādhi”—an image of the flame of meditation—and subduing the “fire dragon,” a symbol of unruly inner forces. This is a secret method in Daoist and Buddhist cultivation.

Those who aspire to cultivate the Dao and receive this method should refine themselves according to its instructions. As its effects deepen, desires will fade of their own accord, without deliberate suppression, and the mind will settle naturally, without being forced into stillness. This is to regulate the mind through the Dao and bring it back to the Dao. After long practice, the workings of Heaven suddenly stir, and something arises from nothing. This is called the “true seed”—the true Qi or inner foundation that emerges through cultivation.

The method of cultivation is simple at its root.

Those who say that cultivation is difficult and success hard to attain are mostly promoting heterodox teachings. For those fortunate enough to encounter this proper path, the method is exceedingly simple. Thus it is said that even someone over eighty can attain the Dao upon encountering the proper path.

Those who understand this method cultivate the true seed and can eventually form a “śarīra,” a concentrated substance embodying the fruits of cultivation. The “understanding” spoken of here does not mean that there are no instructions or transmission. The Chan practice common today, which teaches people only to speculate on emptiness and leaves them to understand for themselves, is mistaken. This method has concrete practices and a lineage of transmission: it teaches practitioners to turn, take up the true seed, and then refine it into a śarīra.

In stillness and meditation, one should wait for the moment when the true seed stirs.

When the mechanism has not yet been set in motion, remain quiet and wait patiently. Once it begins to move, seize the right moment. After it has started, guide it with the intention, refining and nurturing it together with Qi in the same furnace. Let intention and Qi converge as one. This is called “transformation by fire,” meaning refinement through the proper use of the fire phase. The World-Honored One called it transformation by fire; it is also walking the path of the Tathagata.

The “path” here refers to the routes taken by the Conception and Governing Vessels. It is also called the “Dharma Wheel path,” the meridian route along which the Qi mechanism moves. To abide beneath the World-Honored One’s tree means to abide in the pure ground of the Dantian. Tradition says that when the World-Honored One entered meditation and cultivated beneath the Bodhi tree, this was also what was meant. This is what is called “walking and abiding.”

Chan Master Dao Yi said, “There is no walking without abiding, nor is there abiding in one’s place without walking.” This is the principle at issue. The movement and resting of the fire phase must in fact be adjusted according to changes in what is within the body: when it moves, the intention should move with it; when it is still, the intention should settle with it.

The same applies when Yin demons appear—disturbances understood in cultivation as arising from Yin Qi within the body. The movement and resting of the fire phase should be adjusted to changes within the body: when the substance moves, the intention moves with it; when the substance is still, the intention becomes still. When Yin demons appear, they should be tempered with strong fire, a more forceful method of refinement, to keep the Qi mechanism from rushing about and Jing Qi from being depleted.

Yin demons refer to Yin Qi within the body. The changes in the Qi mechanism described earlier may sometimes appear as visions of Yin figures in dreams, bodily obstructions, occasional visions of Yin figures while sitting in meditation, or dreams of tiger-like monsters. The author interprets all these as effects of changes in Yin Qi, and considers them afflictions that may lead to the loss of śarīra—the Jing Qi produced through cultivation. They should therefore be overcome through forceful refinement with wind and fire, so that the Yin demons disappear and danger is averted.

When body and mind are clear, tranquil, and at ease, one should regularly nourish them with a gentle method to preserve the precious pearl, here referring to the cultivated Jing Qi or Neidan. Even when no unusual signs appear in the body, one should keep watch with the intention and continue to nourish it.

When turning the Dharma Wheel—guiding the Qi mechanism along the meridians—both gentle and strong fire should be used. The subtle and mysterious details require transmission from a teacher, as well as realization through the practitioner’s own cultivation.

In the practice of circulating the Dharma Wheel—the cycle of Qi within Neidan cultivation—ascending and descending belong to the “martial” aspect, while bathing belongs to the “civil” aspect. Here, “civil” and “martial” refer to different ways of applying effort in cultivation. Even during ascent and descent, both the gentle civil fire and the forceful martial fire are involved. How to use them in practice depends on the teacher’s instruction; the finer points must also be grasped through personal experience and insight.

When the śarīra—the condensed form of Jing and Qi in Neidan cultivation—is about to take shape, stop the martial fire and use the civil fire to warm and nurture it into solidity. If you fail to stop at the right moment and continue using the martial fire, it may disperse the śarīra that has already condensed. This is a dangerous aspect of cultivation and calls for particular caution.

This is called “warming and nurturing”; in practice, it is a metaphor for guarding and preserving. Once the śarīra has formed, stop the martial fire driven by the breath and switch to the civil fire, in which the light of Shen turns inward in reflection. At the same time, keep watch over it with True Intention, protecting it and preventing danger.

“at the right moment” means when the śarīra is about to form. The “bright pearl” in the phrase “when the bright pearl appears, the hundred demons vanish” refers to the śarīra. Once it has formed, its image becomes visible. The “hundred demons” are Yin Qi and old illnesses within the body. When the bright pearl appears, Yin Qi and old illnesses are dispelled; hence the phrase “the hundred demons vanish.”

Move gently along the great road called the “Cao Stream.” This refers to the marrow channel within the spine. When gathering and refining the śarīra, you must move slowly along this route. If you hurry and switch to another path, you will not obtain the śarīra.

Once the Dao Embryo—the Dao body conceived and formed through Neidan cultivation—has been established, it gives rise to many kinds of wisdom. When the śarīra returns to the central palace, white hair turns black, lost teeth grow back, and wisdom expands until it seems to know everything about the past and future. But remember never to rely on this wisdom to act recklessly.

Once the nourishment through gentle, sustained practice has been confirmed, one enters a state in which concentration and wisdom are not yet fully settled.

At this stage, cultivation proceeds through a gentle fire—a calm, sustained way of regulating the breath—and nothing is lost or allowed to leak away.

“Once realized, realized forever” means continually maintaining settled awareness at the center of the mind, so that the light of wisdom illuminates the sea of one’s original nature.

Wisdom is present, but is not put to use; one practices only dhyana (meditative absorption). Dhyana means stillness; na means nature. At this stage, one cultivates only the stability of one’s nature, using it to harmonize the breath and the firing process. Whatever one perceives, and whatever one may know about the sequence of events or about good and bad fortune, should not be put to use.

In this way, the light of spiritual intelligence grows brighter.

When wisdom is not put to use, the nature of the Dao embryo—the inner foundation formed through cultivation—becomes more spiritually responsive.

In stillness, maintain awareness at all times. Observe and dispel dullness and distraction, letting remorse return to emptiness and silence.

This describes maintaining observation even in stillness. “Awareness” means knowing. During meditation, one must preserve right awareness and right understanding; only then can one see one’s original nature again. As the Avatamsaka Sutra says, one should constantly abide in supreme awakening with a pure mind. If one gives in to dullness, embryonic breathing will stagnate, bringing one into ignorance and into the heterodox practice of barren stillness and rigid emptiness. If one gives in to distraction, the Dao embryo loses its governing force, the firing process grows cold, and the breath is exhausted; cultivation then cannot succeed.

The key to maintaining concentration is to focus sincerely on a single thought of emptiness.

The concentration within the Dao embryo rests entirely on this single thought of sincere focus. During the ten months of nurturing the embryo, one must keep the Dao embryo in mind with every thought. Only when the mind is settled and the breathing regulated can the Dao embryo reach completion. As the Avatamsaka Sutra says, abiding in stillness and possessing the various meditative absorptions and wisdoms enables one to enter the Way of deathlessness.

When the nature of the Dharma, the underlying nature of all phenomena, becomes settled, one sees snowflakes fluttering through the air.

In a quiet room, one may occasionally see a scene like falling snow. This is a state that occurs when the Dao embryo has matured.

This is called “emerging from concentration.”

After seeing the signs of emerging from concentration, one should emerge from concentration. If one does not, one will remain trapped in embryonic nurture and will be unable to manifest spiritual powers, wisdom, and transformations. Snowflakes fluttering through the air are signs that the Dao embryo has matured; this is called emerging from concentration.

After seeing the vision that signals emergence from samadhi, one should emerge promptly. If one does not, one will remain confined within the embryo and be unable to manifest transformations of spiritual powers and wisdom. Even if the embryonic foundation is fully cultivated, one will still be no more than a dull-witted person.

This is because, in utter stillness, the Great Dao gives rise once more to the impulse of movement. What is called the Jade Pivot—the hub of the celestial movements—appears and turns again at the hour of Zi. The true Original Qi, too, begins to stir again in utter stillness.

The “thing” spoken of here is a thing of utmost Yang. Once stillness reaches its limit, it moves of itself, just as Yang energy can never be entirely extinguished. The Perfected Person follows the movements of the sun and moon, probes the nature and feelings, and harmonizes one’s inborn nature, allowing Yin and Yang to transform and blend with one another.

This is like once again bringing forth transformation through the wondrous Dao, and establishing cultivation anew through precepts, samadhi, and wisdom.

The ancients often kept the practice at this stage unspoken. Perhaps they feared revealing Heaven’s secrets, or perhaps no one had truly understood it. Having obtained this thing of utmost Yang and gathered it within the body, the practitioner should also draw back the Dharma Body—the spiritual form seen during cultivation—that appeared upon emerging from samadhi, so that the two become one. Then one enters profound samadhi for a long time.

By abiding continually in samadhi, one ultimately reaches the state that proceeds from Wuji to the Supreme Ultimate.

A Direct Discussion of the Practice of the True Way, Part Eleven

Huayang said: When beginning the work of cultivation, one should stay in a quiet room. A quiet room is a place far from casual visitors, so that no one comes to disturb one’s stillness.

The body should be like a withered tree: when seated, forget the body. The mind should be like cooled ashes: in stillness, forget thoughts.

Use numinous light—the inner clarity of awareness—as the operative pivot; turn one’s gaze inward and gather the spirit. Let nature and life dwell together in one palace: that is, return one’s inborn nature to the Palace of Life.

This is called the beginning of cultivating the Dao. Here, the text speaks of cultivating nature, while life is also included in the practice; hence it is called the “beginning.”

Moreover, when stillness reaches its limit, movement arises, …

When a person becomes truly still, a subtle movement suddenly arises within. It is neither an ordinary thought nor a conscious intention, but the stirring of Qi (vital energy) in the Dantian (energy center)—the body’s original Qi. The Fifth Patriarch called it “the coming of feeling,” while the Sixth Patriarch called it “the mind of lust” and said it is the mind of the Dao (the Way). If Buddhist practitioners do not understand this movement, they will not know where to begin, and their practice is unlikely to bring much benefit.

This is the seed from which the Great Dao comes forth. The Buddha understood the crucial moment when this movement appears, and used a method to gather it back into the Dantian, refining it into Śarīra Muni—the sacred fruit attained through cultivation—and thereby transforming an ordinary person into a sage. For this reason, the scripture calls it the seed of cultivating the Great Dao.

It is the force that governs the creation and transformation of all things. Ordinary people do not understand cultivation. When this movement arises, they cannot restrain it, and the mind becomes agitated along with it. This is what Mencius meant when he said, “Qi can also make the will waver.”

Men and women unite through this movement, and human beings come into being. All things, too, reproduce without end through the union of female and male. People often confuse cultivating the Dao with indulging in lust, but this shows that they do not understand the method. The Buddha waits for the movement to begin, and, while thought has not yet shifted, refines it with “fire” and fans it with “wind.” Here, “fire” and “wind” are terms of cultivation, referring to methods used in refining and nourishing. In this way, the external kidneys—the male genitals—naturally contract, while the mind becomes as calm as cool water. How could this have anything to do with lust? Could the legendary tiny insect called jiaoming, or a louse, have lustful thoughts? This is the true principle by which the Dao nurtures all things and Heaven and Earth sustain life without end: it happens naturally, without deliberate intention. The key to how sages can undergo extraordinary transformation lies in following or transforming this movement.

As Qi turns, the aperture opens. The ancients used many names for Qi, including “the thing,” “water,” and terms associated with sexual intimacy. The “aperture” here means the Dantian, the Qi cavity. “Opening” refers to the Gate of Life, a region traditionally associated with the space between the kidneys; medical texts call it “between the two kidneys…”

In ancient times, people called Qi (vital energy)—an older form of the word for Qi, also referring to the vital energy of life—by many names, including “the thing,” “water,” and “the affairs of the inner chamber.” The “aperture” is the Dantian (energy center), also called the Qi cavity. “Opening” refers to the Gate of Life, the portal through which vital energy enters and leaves. Medical texts identify the Gate of Life with the space between the kidneys, but the author says this is incorrect: the Gate of Life discussed here lies below the navel. In women it is called the Gate of the Womb, and refers to this same place. The emission of sexual essence in both men and women also occurs here.

Wisdom-life—here meaning the primordial Qi at the root of life, and named through a Buddhist expression—is constantly flowing outward and being lost.

The author explains that “wisdom-life” is a skillful term used by the World-Honored One, equivalent to what Chinese thought calls primordial Qi. When a person is conceived, they receive the primordial Qi bestowed by the ruler of creation. This Qi remains within the body, and the Buddha-nature is there as well. This is the meaning of the saying, “What Heaven commands is called nature”: a person’s nature comes from Heaven’s mandate. The fetus’s eight vessels are connected to the mother’s breathing; the fetus does not yet breathe through its own mouth and nose. At birth, breathing begins through the mouth and nose, and the eight vessels are no longer connected to the mother. The primordial Qi then lies hidden within the body. When a person reaches adulthood, the Qi stirs the apertures and flows outward. The Surangama Sutra calls this state the “supernatural power of ending outflows.” Once the apertures have opened, desire arises, and it is difficult to find another way out: the Qi tends to escape along its familiar route.

The author gives the example of a younger cousin from his lay family, whose courtesy name was Daokuan and whose Dharma name was Yuanming. He lived for a long time at Jinshan Monastery, then became abbot of Yongshui Hermitage in Beiyi. The author observes that Chan Buddhism and the teachings seem not to discuss this matter, as though they were concerned only with nurturing and replenishing, and realizing one’s own nature, without needing to ask whether primordial Qi is being lost. The author challenges this view: if there is leakage, how is it different from ordinary people losing themselves in lust and sexual union? The Surangama Sutra says that if the body, mind, and root of sexual desire are not cut off, it is like trying to cook sand into rice. Even after hundreds of thousands of eons, the sand will only be cooked; it can never become rice. Such people will inevitably enter the demonic paths and cycle through the three evil destinies—hell beings, hungry ghosts, and animals—without ever attaining liberation. The author therefore asks how Chan Buddhism and the teachings can fail to investigate this matter.

The path of wisdom-life transmitted by the World-Honored One has been confirmed by the Buddhas among themselves and handed down from generation to generation by the patriarchs. Through personal practice, the three forms of sexual desire can be ended of their own accord through refinement and cultivation. This teaching contains profound meaning.

Gather the mind and spirit within the body, in the Dantian (the lower abdomen, where Qi is said to gather in Neidan practice). With each breath, use intention to draw the breath inward and return it to the Dantian. If intention does not guide the breath, the breath has no direction.

Let the breath flow continuously, while keeping intention always in the Dantian. Allow intention and Qi to harmonize and merge, forming the “true seed”—the fundamental basis of Neidan practice. This is the true transmission of the orthodox path.

The earlier passage described how to draw the breath back to the Dantian; this passage explains the practice of constantly nurturing it with warmth. Once the breath has returned to its source, nurture it continually through breathing and guard it moment by moment with intention, as though tending an ember in a furnace. Let intention and Qi mingle and transform into the true seed. This is the practice of dual cultivation of nature and life: cultivating both the mind’s nature and the roots of life. Persist over a long time, and substance will arise from the formless. All other paths are side paths and will ultimately be difficult to bring to fruition.

The ancients spoke of “fire transformation”: “fire” means true intention, the focused and steady intention used in cultivation. “Harmonizing and joining” means bringing nature and life into unity. In “facing the Dipper,” “facing” means turning one’s gaze inward, while “Dipper” refers to the Dantian.

“Seated with legs crossed” means sitting with true intention upon the waters of the body’s north, entering a state of stillness and extinction. This is the method for beginning the initial pass. Tradition tells that the Venerable Śāṇavāsa saw Ānanda seated with legs crossed above flowing water and entering extinction. He went to ask him about it three times. Later, Ānanda transmitted the Treasury of the True Dharma Eye to him, making him the third patriarch of Chan Buddhism. The story is invoked here to explain this method of cultivation.

All these metaphors, in the end, concern the two aspects of nature and life. Practice must accumulate to a certain point; its effects appear only when the time is ripe. This cannot be accomplished in a day or two, but requires steady effort over time. Whether one reaches the goal also depends on age and on diligence or neglect. The “time” referred to here is not the time of Heaven, but the moment when inner changes occur and what is being cultivated comes into being.

Within what seems like emptiness, the object of cultivation gradually takes shape.

As the myriad things grow and change, awareness naturally arises in the mind. If one simply sits inertly and falls into a dead emptiness, one will miss the opportunity right before one’s eyes. At such a time, do not follow the movement; instead, turn it around and make it flow in reverse.

Jing and Qi naturally flow downward, so one must use focused intention and breathing to gather and draw them in. Bodhidharma called this “gathering”: when Jing and Qi flow outward and are lost, this is called the “supernatural power of ending leakage”; when they are turned back and returned, it is called “gathering.” When Jing and Qi return to their source—the source being the Dantian, the Neidan cultivation site in the lower abdomen—the Dharma Wheel can then be set in motion, the process by which Jing and Qi circulate in Neidan practice.

As the Dharma Wheel turns, Jing and Qi rise along the back and descend along the front; this is called the Dharma Wheel. “Opening and closing” refers to the coordination of outer and inner breathing: when the outer breath draws inward, the inner breath rises; when the outer breath rises, the inner breath descends. Jing and Qi circulate back and forth between above and below. “Above” means the crown of the head, and “below” means the abdomen. The Sixth Patriarch said that he had something which “supports Heaven above and supports Earth below”; he was speaking of this mechanism of circulation.

The “Heavenly Heart,” also called the Central Yellow, is located at the center of the body. It is also known as the Celestial Dipper and the Dipper’s Handle. In the heavens it is called the Heavenly Heart; in the human body it is called true intention—the focused, guiding awareness that directs the process of cultivation. If the central palace, the middle of the body, loses true intention, it is like a minister losing his ruler. When turning the Dharma Wheel, true intention must remain settled in the central palace, serving as the axle around which Jing and Qi revolve.

When turning the Dharma Wheel, intention and Jing and Qi must follow the Conception and Governing Vessels, the channels that run along the front and back of the body. If intention moves without Jing and Qi, or Jing and Qi move without intention accompanying them, one cannot refine a śarīra, the accomplishment produced through Neidan cultivation.

“Returning to the root and restoring life” means returning to the source. The stages described above—gathering, sealing, rising, descending, and bathing—are called the “four phases.” Together with the related stages, they make up the “six phases.” When the proper timing and number of cycles have been reached, Jing and Qi become abundant and responsive; after that come the techniques for gathering and passing through the barriers.

Once you have understood the methods of cultivation described above, you must persevere in practicing them over a long period. When the inner aperture is full, stillness will set the natural workings of life within the body in motion, bringing harmony and ease throughout the body. When the male organ no longer rises at all, this is called “the count is complete and the organ is responsive.” Since the organ has become responsive, after gathering and circulating, you should continue cultivating for a long time, pass through the Three Passes—the three gates spoken of in cultivation—and return to the Central Palace, the center of the body. The key to this is exceedingly secret. I had never dared to speak of it, but now I have revealed it.

Sometimes the moment to gather comes, but one does not gather; or one gathers, yet nothing stirs.

Gathering at the wrong time happens because the male organ is still tender and has not yet matured.

Sometimes the male organ has stirred, but one does not gather in time.

If one does not recognize when it stirs, the opportunity will pass right before one’s eyes.

All this comes from failing to grasp the key, and from not having received a master’s instruction.

To truly obtain the key, you should humbly seek a teacher and honor and serve your master for a long time.

Those who study Buddhism in the world fail to receive the complete instruction because they believe they know or can do something, look down on their masters, and neglect the teachings. If they are humble and sincere, observe the courtesies owed by a disciple, fulfill a disciple’s duties, and wholeheartedly honor their master over time, helping the master attain the Way, how could they fail to receive the complete teachings of the Dao?

Cultivate De and contribute material resources.

De is the substance and function of the Dao. If you seek out a master and ask for the teachings of the Dao without cultivating De, how can you meet a true master? De and the Dao are like a bird’s feathers and wings: without either, it cannot take flight. The “resources” spoken of here means material wealth. The ancients said that both the giving of teachings and the giving of wealth must be practiced for master and disciple alike to attain perfect awakening. Those who claim to cultivate the Dao but will not part with a single coin, seeking only fame and using Buddhist teachings to embellish themselves, will be ignored even by people of great attainment.

Only by doing these things can you gain something from the Great Dao.

Some people in the world who study Buddhism believe that sitting quietly is all it takes to make progress. Is that not a mistaken idea? If someone claims to cultivate the Way but will not give away even a little money, caring only for fame and using Buddhist teachings as a cover, then even accomplished figures in Buddhism and Daoism will look down on them. Only after doing these things can the cultivation of the Great Way yield results.

Some people who study Buddhism think that sitting quietly will bring results. This is indeed misguided. Liu Zhiliang, however, gained insight through sitting quietly. He made connections with powerful people and received their help, relying as well on external support, just as the Sixth Patriarch did.

“Emerging from the furnace” refers to signs of inner change. Here, the “furnace” is the Dantian (the energy center where Jing and Qi are refined and cultivated in Neidan practice). Quietly observing with the mind is also necessary for the inner “thing” to arise.

“Observing with intent” means this: the Tathagata, an honorific title for the Buddha, said that unless one knows where one’s thoughts and gaze are directed, one cannot subdue the toil of the dust—the afflictions that disturb body and mind. Whether the inner “thing” appears from the furnace depends entirely on the activity of the mind. “Thing” is simply another name for original Qi, the primordial Qi present from the beginning.

When the Tathagata speaks of “fire arising in the furnace,” he refers to the teaching of the Buddha of Purple-Ma Light. “Fire” means warmth, and “arising” means beginning to move. This is the sign that the śarīra—the essence that condenses and appears during cultivation—is about to form.

At this point, Muni, an honorific title for the Buddha, takes shape. The warmth mentioned earlier is an inner phenomenon; the “form” is what appears outwardly.

When such a phenomenon occurs, do not be afraid or alarmed. If it appears suddenly and you have not received the true transmission, you may mistake it for something external. If surprise unsettles your spirit, the śarīra will disperse. The goal of attaining the Way will then seem even farther away.

Inner change and the mind must move in step: when original life-force moves, the mind moves with it; when original life-force comes to rest, the mind rests as well. This is why the two are said to proceed together.

Take particular care to avoid straying onto side paths and encountering danger. The “byway” here is the divergent path mentioned in the earlier commentary. If the śarīra is lost, the goal of attaining the Way will seem even farther away.

Inner change and the mind must move in step: when original life-force moves, the mind follows; when original life-force comes to rest, the mind rests too. Be alert to byways and dangers as well. The earlier collected commentary explains the meaning of “byway.”

In “crossing the ford of the Ganges,” the Ganges refers to the marrow pathway within the spinal column. This pathway has obstructed sections above and below, which must be traversed by guiding them with true intent; hence it is called a “ford.”

From Caoxi upward to Vulture Peak,

Cao Creek (here, the marrow channel used in cultivation) is the marrow pathway mentioned above. Vulture Peak (another name for Spirit Mountain) lies at the back of the head. From there, the path passes down through Mount Sumeru (here, the crown of the head) and enters the Towering Chambers (here, the throat). The throat has twelve sections, hence the name “Towering Chambers.”

Going to the world of Southern Blossoms means that the wisdom-life (an inner power used in cultivation to discipline and guide the mind and spirit) has arrived. The scripture uses a story from the Lotus Sutra as a metaphor: at the Lotus assembly, the Dragon Girl offered a jewel, then went south, took male form, and attained Buddhahood. “The south” here refers to the aperture of the heart. Human nature tends toward activity rather than stillness, tires of the old in favor of the new, and shifts its thoughts constantly, with no fixed comings or goings. People do not even know where their own minds are headed. Since beginningless time, through the four births and six realms, the mind has never rested; this is why people so often fail to understand their own inner nature. Now, fortunately, the wisdom-life has arrived and can bring this mind under control, turning conditioned nature into true nature and refining the cognitive spirit (the acquired activity of discrimination and thought) into the Original Spirit (the innate spirit present from the beginning). This is like using lead to restrain mercury: the mercury no longer flows everywhere, beyond control. Without the wisdom-life entering the aperture of the heart, the mind cannot become settled. Even if one undertakes cultivation, one is only making use of the acquired cognitive nature, not one’s innate nature. Innate nature entered a person’s life at the beginning of the division of Heaven and Earth; hence the saying, “What Heaven confers is called nature.” Those who study Buddhism should understand the difference between innate and acquired nature. Without awakening for oneself, one will ultimately find it difficult to attain realization.

Sit upright and ascend to the Hall of Buddha’s Radiance. The “hall” refers to an aperture below the heart, where the Dao embryo is nurtured and gradually brought to stability.

Suddenly, the breath spreads gently like mist in a mountain valley and drifts in fine strands like spring rain, circling and gathering in the Central Palace (the place in the middle of the body where inner cultivation takes place). This is called “forming the Dao embryo” (the stage in cultivation when an inner embryo is condensed and nurtured). When the śarīra (the essence produced through cultivation) rises to the Central Palace, that is where it gradually settles. The breath then continues to spread like mist in a mountain valley and drift in fine strands like spring rain, circling and gathering in the Central Palace; this, too, is called forming the Dao embryo.

When the relic (the essence formed through Neidan cultivation) rises to the central palace (the central area in the body in Neidan practice), the whole body seems filled with rising clouds and flowing rain. The hundred channels open and flow smoothly, and the breath reaches freely into the limbs. Then turn the mind and gaze first to the left, then to the right, forty-nine times, and let them settle. Next turn them first to the right, then to the left, forty-six times, and let them settle. The refined energies of nature and life gather in the central palace and form the Dao embryo (the inner embryonic breath formed through Neidan cultivation).

This is the meditation of peace and ease, a state of calm and settled absorption. At this stage, nothing is lost through cultivation, and what is gained cannot be lost; once realized, it is kept forever. How could the heart not be at ease? One naturally enters meditation, silent and undisturbed.

When nurturing the Dao embryo, do not deliberately make it grow, but do not forget it either. Do not sink into dullness, and do not deliberately watch over it. Let it be nourished naturally.

When the Dao embryo has just formed, postnatal breathing may still seem to be present, but you should not cling to it; this is why it is said, “Do not forget.” Once the Dao embryo has formed, the mind rests within it, silent and unmoving. Yet you must not lose yourself in drowsiness: remain aware and clear. This is why it is said, “Do not watch.”

In stillness and calm, you suddenly feel that a bright moon is hanging in the sky. This moon rises from the Dantian (the lower abdomen in Neidan practice) to a point before your eyes. Let it remain there and await its transformation, holding it with true intent (a focused but unattached mind).

Next, a red sun rises within the moon, and sun and moon join together. Gather them in and conceal them within the central palace. This means gathering and storing them within through cultivation.

In settled stillness, you gradually enter a state of quiescence: thoughts do not arise, being and nonbeing merge into an undifferentiated whole, and true nature returns to emptiness. This is therefore called Wuwei (non-action). The mind becomes empty, clear, and still, reaching its utmost point.

Yet the Great Dao has no end. When stillness reaches its utmost point, the impulse to move arises. Something rises and joins with the Dao embryo. All things, when developed to their utmost, return to their source; the Great Dao is the same. As stillness reaches its limit and movement begins, a trace of pure Yang rises from Yongquan (the point on the sole of the foot), reaches the central palace, and draws near to join with the Dao embryo, finally becoming one with it.

Then the Dharma Wheel (a metaphor in Neidan cultivation for the circulation of Qi) turns once more.

Once this true Qi (the refined energy produced through internal cultivation) enters the Dao embryo (a state in Neidan cultivation likened to the gestation of the Elixir body), it moves upward from below, passing through the Weilü (a key point at the base of the spine) to the crown of the head, then descends to the Central Palace (the central area of the body used in internal cultivation). This is called replenishing the embryo’s source from the Central Palace, bringing it close to the Dao embryo so that they unite and ultimately become one.

The Dharma Wheel (the cyclical movement of true Qi in internal cultivation) then turns once more.

Once this true Qi enters the Dao embryo, it moves upward from below, passing through the Weilü to the crown of the head, then descends to the Central Palace. This is the precious means of replenishing the embryo’s source.

The cultivator should enter ever deeper stillness until thoughts and concerns cease. The breath through the nose may seem to stop, and the pulse in the hands may seem impossible to feel. This is the state of deep meditative stillness.

When the Dao embryo is complete and true Qi is abundant, a vision of “heavenly flowers raining down” may appear. The appearance of heavenly flowers indicates that the Dao embryo is full; their absence indicates that it is not yet full.

At this point, the cultivator should redirect the focus of meditation, allowing the mind and spirit to pass beyond the Three Realms. Here, the “Three Realms” refer to the Lower Dantian, the Central Palace, and the Gate at the Crown. When this vision appears, one should shift one’s focus and emerge from meditation.

This is called the “Appearance of the Tathagata.” The Avatamsaka Sutra says that the World-Honored One emitted great light from the tuft of white hair between his eyebrows, and calls this the “Appearance of the Tathagata.”

When first emerging from meditation, one must guard against disturbances from outside demons. At first, one may hear Buddhas and Bodhisattvas speaking. Do not respond or converse; simply hold to right mindfulness, gradually emerge from meditation, and return to your own body. Do not wander far.

A wheel of golden light is, from the beginning, a numinous thing that belongs to me. I should bring it back and return it to myself, making it a wondrous medicine for transforming the body.

At first, when coming out of meditation, do not become attached to anything outside yourself. Simply wait for a circle of golden light to appear within you. When it appears in empty space, bring the Dharma body—the form that practitioners say transcends the ordinary physical body—close to the light. Gather the light through the Dharma and draw it into the Dharma body. The Dharma body then enters the ordinary body. After long nourishment, the ordinary body can be transformed into Qi (vital energy).

If this circle of golden light cannot be obtained, the ordinary body cannot be transformed into Qi. This is why the phrase “preserving the body” is used. It also has to do with De (Virtue/Power). This is the celestial secret that has never been revealed since ancient times; only now is it being spoken of.

Gather and nourish it, and I produce a new form in its descendants. It cannot be transformed into Qi, which is why the phrase “preserving the body” is used. This, too, has to do with De. This is the celestial secret that has never been revealed since ancient times; only now is it being spoken of.

When one first begins to travel beyond the body, there is originally only one body. After a long period of meditation, one can transform into hundreds of millions of emanation bodies.

When I hope to bring my cultivation to completion, I will withdraw to a secluded valley, leave no trace, return to emptiness, and unite with the wondrous Dao.

After cultivation is complete, withdraw into an ancient cave deep in the mountains. Sit in a place where no one comes and goes, refine the form and transform it into Qi, and return the spirit to emptiness, so that the body, too, returns to emptiness.

This is the final practice of the Tathagata, a Buddhist title for an awakened one. I hope that practitioners who share this path will not mistake verbal talk of Chan and the heterodox way of samadhi, a state of meditative absorption, for the true path. That is not the true path.

Treatise on the Chan Crucible, Chapter Twelve

Huayang said: “The nature and life spoken of in Buddhism and Daoism can be compared to the dragon and tiger; the dragon and tiger, in turn, can be compared to movement and stillness. Movement and stillness are compared to the Chan crucible, the key and opportune moment in Chan practice. Why are these comparisons so numerous and elaborate?”

What a person receives at birth is nothing more than “nature” and “life.” What else is there? To attain the Dao, one must first safeguard nature and life. Hidden within the body, they are also called the “dragon and tiger.” Their movement and cessation are also called “movement and stillness.” Movement is the “trigger”; stillness is “meditation.” However many names and metaphors are used, they all refer to nature and life. Discussions that leave nature and life aside are mostly just introductory talk meant to deceive the foolish.

An ancient Buddha said, “If you do not understand nature and life, the Great Dao cannot be attained.”

Although there are many schools and methods of cultivation, people often devote themselves to them without understanding nature and life. Some cultivate only nature, while others cultivate only life; neither can achieve anything.

Buddhas and patriarchs throughout the ages have all cultivated in accordance with nature and life. Since ancient times, no one who attained the Dao and realized the fruit of cultivation did so without cultivating nature and life.

If this concerns nature and life, why is it also called “the Chan trigger”?

A quiet mind is called “Chan”; the stirring in the kidneys is called the “trigger.”

When a person receives nature and life, they are originally one. In the womb, the parents’ two Qi combine into one, and a spark of numinous awareness is present within it. The ancient saying, “When the three families unite, the body comes into being,” is indeed well founded.

After birth, this unity divides into two parts. When a child gives its first cry, nature resides in the heart and life in the kidneys. The two are separated by eight cun and four fen, and even in old age they are difficult to reunite.

As the body gradually grows stronger, around the age of fifteen or sixteen, the Qi in the Dantian (energy center) begins to stir of its own accord.

And “the Treasure of the Original Life”…

“Original” refers to the prenatal Qi a person receives.

At this point, a change takes place: Qi gathers at the apertures, and the mechanism that sets it moving outward appears.

Primordial Qi, the original vital energy inherent in the human body, lies hidden in the Dantian. When acquired Qi is abundant, primordial Qi stirs of its own accord. If it is not cultivated once it stirs, the Yang Gate—the aperture through which essence and Qi leak outward—will be forced open. Primordial Qi will then turn into acquired, tangible essence and Qi, which are depleted through the emission of semen.

At this point, the movement of Qi—the stirring and transformation of energy—will turn outward. Primordial Qi lies hidden in the Dantian and stirs when acquired Qi is abundant. If it is not guided, it will force open the Yang Gate and become acquired, tangible essence and Qi, depleted through the emission of semen. Do not let it flow outward with its momentum; guide it while it is stirring.

What is called the “trigger” has a corresponding inner sign, while outwardly it appears as movement of the outer kidney, here meaning the genitals. At this time, turn the light back inward—gather the spirit and contemplate within—and focus the mind to enter the Northern Sea, a Neidan term for the area around the lower Dantian. The “precious treasure,” here meaning essence and Qi, will also return to the Northern Sea in response to the mind.

Master Jiwuxu said, “Gather the spirit in this place, and Qi will follow Shen, naturally returning to this aperture.” The World-Honored One also said that Qi follows the spirit to wherever the mind is focused. This is therefore called “harmonizing and gathering”: joining the mind with kidney Qi is called “condensation.”

The movement of Qi can proceed in the forward direction or in reverse. When it proceeds forward, primordial essence leaks outward and is depleted; when it reverses, primordial Qi transforms into tangible substance. This is why it is called the “trigger”: the word means stirring and transformation. If it were not called the “trigger,” people might fail to recognize the precious substance that appears when the foundation of life—the life cultivated in practice—stirs.

What is called life is primordial Qi. When primordial Qi stirs, it continues to dissipate outward even if no semen is emitted. Once it is exhausted, a person declines and dies. Practitioners must keep it from dissipating outward and gather it within; only then can they realize the Dao. Human life, too, comes from this Qi, so it is a supreme treasure.

Simply sitting motionless and clinging to an empty stillness is like the practice of some Chan Buddhist practitioners today who do not understand the life cultivated in practice and regard merely quieting the mind and sitting in a withered state as the Dao. This is mistaken. It causes them to miss the true key to the mutual alignment of nature and life—the mind’s nature and the foundation of life. Without understanding how nature and life are brought together, one is like someone futilely rubbing a brick in the hope of making a mirror: it serves no purpose.

If one remains only in withered stillness and emptiness, what can serve as the true seed? Without understanding how to harmonize and gather, the true seed—the foundation formed through the condensation of inner Jing and Qi in cultivation—will never come into being.

When the Qi mechanism in cultivation comes to rest, the mind and spirit quietly observe, and body and mind merge into one. This is called “meditation.” The Qi mechanism coming to rest means that the activity of life grows quiet and Yang Qi does not stir. Once it has settled, one turns the light of the mind and spirit inward and observes in stillness, without thought or forced action; hence the term “meditation.”

When the moment arrives, the Qi mechanism suddenly stirs. This is also called the “trigger.” The “moment” here does not mean a time of day in the natural world, but the time when the true seed comes into being. If one understands the cultivation method used beforehand, the true seed will arise at the proper time on its own. One should gather it promptly.

Gathering the true seed with a mind of Wuwei (non-action) is also called “meditation.” When the moment arrives and the Qi mechanism suddenly stirs, this is again called the “trigger.” Here, too, the reference is to the moment when the true seed comes into being. Understanding the method used beforehand allows one to recognize that moment: gather the seed promptly and return it to its original chamber, the inner place where true Qi is stored. Otherwise, the opportunity will be missed.

“Perfect penetration” is called “stealing the opening”; “stealing” means taking. Next, one works with the breath’s movements of opening and closing, entering and exiting. “Closing and opening” refers to the opening and closing of the breath within and beyond the body, while “waxing and waning” refers to changes at the Primordial Pass, the crucial aperture where the Qi mechanism stirs during cultivation.

Then one sets in motion the fundamental Qi mechanism of the Dharma Wheel. This refers to the path along which the true seed travels through the Ren and Du channels, with the breath guiding the Qi mechanism in its course; hence the term “Dharma Wheel’s fundamental mechanism.”

This numinous treasure, the true seed, should return to its source and be stored deep in the lower Dantian (the internal alchemy center below the navel). The ancients called this “returning to the root and restoring one’s life.”

After this movement of Qi, it returns to the place where the source of life resides. To attain this state, one must follow the mechanism by which the Dharma Wheel turns and allow it to proceed naturally and as desired. This is called “śarīra.” Here, śarīra refers to a condensed substance formed through cultivation and refinement, in which the Qi of life is joined with one’s original nature.

One should let go of deliberate effort and stop using intention to push the movement of Qi as though blowing on it. Instead, one should practice Wuwei (non-action): turn the light back inward, and observe in silence, with clarity. This is also called “meditation.” This is the practice of gathering and refining the śarīra, and requires continuous observation for seven days. “Where the mind and eyes are placed” means settling the mind-spirit and one’s awareness at the place where the śarīra resides.

Then the Muni Pearl, a symbol of the numinous pearl obtained through internal cultivation, will form and gather into a single mass. It is shaped like cinnabar and shines like snow: red within, but white when it gives off light. It feels warm and soft, and tastes sweet like honey. The Dantian (energy center below the navel) grows warm and harmonious, and sweetness is felt in the mouth. The Qi moves forth in a lively, flowing way; this is also called “the pivot.” “Emerging” means coming out of the furnace, a metaphor for the process of internal cultivation.

At this point, do not become alarmed or doubtful. Settle the mind-spirit with intention and quietly await the movement of Qi. When it begins to move, follow its momentum and move along with it. This is the subtle method of skillful gathering and refinement. There is no other method of gathering; as the saying goes, softness overcomes hardness. Quickly grasp this impulse of movement: “movement” here refers to the Pearl beginning to move.

Then pass slowly through the “Three-by-Three Iron Gates,” the apertures along the spine through which Qi rises. “Slowly” means neither rushing ahead nor lagging behind. Going too far ahead becomes a deviant practice akin to guiding and directing Qi; falling behind becomes an outside path akin to visualization. One must therefore follow the Qi as it naturally moves in conjunction with oneself. “Three-by-Three” refers to the apertures along the spine. There are openings on both sides, and Qi rises in a straight line through the middle.

This is called transcending the ordinary and entering the sacred realm.

After the śarīra has been refined below the navel, it must still be made to transcend and leave the illusory realm. If it cannot transcend, it will ultimately leave a hidden danger. The Muni Precious Pearl returns to the center, meaning the place below the heart and above the kidneys.

Hold it there with a gentle intention and settle into clear observation; this too is called “meditation.” Afterward, it must be nurtured with warmth on a regular basis.

In meditation (a state of quiet, focused practice), one can experience a joy that is harmonious and natural, without any forcing.

At this time, it seems as though the pure harmony of Heaven’s principles throughout Heaven and Earth gathers into a single mass, leaving one as if intoxicated and steeped in it. Buddhists call this state within meditation samadhi (a state of focused stillness in which the mind does not wander).

Within Wuwei (non-action), an effect suddenly arises. This is also called the “pivot” (a subtle opportunity that appears in cultivation). It is like a drop of sweet dew in the vastness of space.

Since this is said to be Wuwei and Heaven’s principle, to feel as if intoxicated and steeped in it, and to be samadhi within meditation, why speak of a “pivot”? Without this name, people would not know that such a wondrous thing exists; they would only keep watch over the womb-pouch (a symbol of the Golden Elixir gestating in the Dantian).

If people do not understand the Great Dao, they will not know of the opportunity through which Heaven and humanity help one another. Following this opportunity, gather the wondrous thing into the womb, then guide it with intention to the central palace (the central area of the body in internal alchemy).

Maintain it steadily for a long time in still observation. This too is called meditation. Afterward, continue to nurture it gently (cultivate it in a calm and sustained manner). This is “when arising and ceasing have ceased” (when the changes of arising and ceasing come to rest), and the two Qi (the Yin and Yang energies) can remain settled for a long time.

Amid stillness and quietude, something appears, transcendent. This too is called a pivot. It comes from the Dantian, shining yet without form, suspended in a realm like open space. After a short wait, it appears again; this too is called a meditation pivot (an opportunity that manifests in meditation).

After two or three breaths, it appears once more; this too is called a pivot. It likewise comes from the Dantian, shining yet without form, and joins with what appeared before. Gather it in and store it away, then use the secret method of Heaven’s pivot to return it to the womb.

Then practice still observation, gently and silently maintaining it; this too is called meditation. At this point, there is no need to strive deliberately for Wuwei. Simply remain constantly still and constantly aware (quiet while maintaining awareness).

Amid still observation and gentle, silent maintenance, two things rise from Yongquan (the acupuncture point on the soles of the feet); this too is called a pivot. Two streams of pure Yang rise straight from Yongquan to the crown of the head, then descend to the central palace. Gather them in and maintain them in stillness; this too is called meditation. Let the breath be even, so that the breath through the nose seems to cease, while awareness remains within.

Amid still observation and gentle, silent maintenance, two things rise once more from Yongquan; this too is called a pivot: two streams of pure Yang rise straight from Yongquan to the crown of the head, then descend to the central palace. Gather them in and let the mind and spirit settle into stillness; this too is called meditation.

When breathing through the nose ceases and the six pulses—the breath-pulses as the ancients called them—fall silent, this is called “quiescent extinction.” At this point, there is no visible sign of breath entering or leaving.

Remain for a long time in this quiescent state of meditation. Suddenly, you may see white snow falling thickly across the sky; this, too, is a moment for cultivation. You must recognize when it is time to emerge from meditation: this is the true vision. Do not delay or become stuck; emerge in time.

If you linger in the womb and lack spiritual powers and transformations, you will become dull-witted. You should immediately emerge through the crown of the head. This is called “transcending the Three Realms” (the realms of desire, form, and formlessness). After emerging, wait quietly, one or two feet away from your ordinary body. This, too, is called “meditation.” A patch of golden light suspended in the air is another sign that the moment has come. Draw it back into the body, then enter meditation again; this, too, is called “meditation.” After meditating for a long time, both form and spirit undergo transformation, and the talk of so-called meditation signs ends there.

Since ancient times, everything said about meditation signs has now been fully disclosed. I hope those who study Buddhism will not stray into the paths of false teachers and heterodox schools, mistaking talk of meditation signs for genuine opportunities in cultivation. If it is merely talk, then it is not a true meditation sign.

Miscellaneous Sayings, Chapter Thirteen

Huayang says: No one who can attain the Great Dao does so without drawing on karmic ties from former lives.

The Great Dao (the highest path of cultivation) is the method of cultivating nature and life together and subduing the Dragon and Tiger, metaphors in Neidan practice for the Yin and Yang energies and their interactions. To cultivate nature without cultivating life is not to follow the Great Dao.

“Past-life affinity” refers to the karmic ties accumulated through practice over many lifetimes. To have the good fortune in this life to encounter the method of dual cultivation of nature and life is like the Daoist practitioner Zhu Tu described here: though still a virgin, he can cultivate the Dao in the inner chambers of a wealthy household, without having to search far and wide. If he happens by chance upon someone who can understand him, receives my guidance, and ultimately attains the fruit of the Dao, this is an affinity formed through practice in a previous life.

A patriarch of the Jin dynasty left a record saying, “More than fourteen hundred years from now, the young Tu will still be a virgin and will sweep the road clean to welcome me.” Does this not mean that he had already cultivated to a certain level, and should now emerge from meditation, yet might fear falling back and losing his way? Huiran said, “He is the only one in his family. Would he not have a son to carry on the family line?” The reply was, “Taishang, the Tathagata, and Kumarajiva also had sons.” Someone asked, “If one has already attained the Dao, would having a son not cause one to lose Jing and Qi?” The reply was, “Immortals and Buddhas of the highest rank can conceive through spiritual union or Qi union, joining through the mind or through Qi. Ordinary people cannot do this. For ordinary people to have a child, their bodies must unite, which causes Jing and Qi to be depleted and harms their foundation.”

Long ago, when the Tathagata was about to go up into the mountains, his wife asked, “After you leave, whom will I depend on?” The Tathagata turned back, pointed to her, and said, “In time, you will bear a son.” Later, she did indeed have a child.

Kumarajiva was the nineteenth patriarch of the Western Heaven. After the king of China invited him to come and teach the Dharma, he said to the king, “I, a monk, would like a son, so that I may have someone to depend on in the future.” The king then gave him a palace lady. The other monks were displeased. Knowing what they were thinking, Kumarajiva asked the king to provide needles for the monks to eat. None dared to eat them, but Kumarajiva alone swallowed a bowlful. He then said, “Only one who can eat needles may marry; one who cannot eat them may not.” The next day, the needles came out through his pores. Later, he did indeed have a son.

This illustrates the dual cultivation of nature and life, as well as spiritual powers and transformations: once one has attained the Dao, why worry about having descendants?

Some people begin cultivating after seeing others do so; others begin after hearing that others are cultivating. Whichever way they enter the practice, when they ultimately succeed, they reach the same level. As the saying goes: once awakened, even ordinary beings can become Buddhas; when deluded, even Buddhas are no different from ordinary beings.

What matters is inner insight and decisiveness. Those who study the Dao must reach their own understanding. They cannot simply accept what others say, but must judge by their own discernment. A person with firm resolve will not be misled by minor, heterodox methods, nor taken in by them simply because they seem novel for a time.

One should humbly and respectfully seek out people of De and those of earnest purpose, and take the initiative to ask them for guidance rather than clinging to sectarian prejudice. Among the Three Teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—there may be accomplished teachers who live in seclusion and remain unknown. If you meet one, you should seek the Dao from them, without fixating on outward affiliations or reputation.

One should also search the writings handed down from the ancients, seek teachers and ask about the Dao, and use these sources to discern whether what one is learning is genuine. When a teacher transmits a practice to a student, every step must be carefully checked to ensure that the sequence is consistent and follows the essential principles.

Those who have not yet received the oral instructions should first read widely in the classics of the Three Teachings and seek out their true meaning. When they meet a teacher, they should examine whether the methods being transmitted accord with the principle of dual cultivation of nature and life (cultivating the body and refining one’s nature together). If the steps are out of order, the method is not the true path, and practicing it will bring no benefit.

If the oral instructions are indeed correct, following them in practice may lead to success. How can one tell whether they are correct? This passage says that the true path must begin with dual cultivation of nature and life, and that each advance in practice should bring a corresponding result.

Do not let old habits hold you back. Old habits are the patterns of speech and conduct formed in the past. When these habits no longer arise or show themselves, it is a sign that the cultivation of the mind has made progress.

Nor should one be troubled by demonic hindrances. Those who cultivate the Dao will still encounter…

The habits and thoughts formed in the past no longer arise or appear. This shows that the work of refining the mind is taking effect.

People who cultivate the Dao often encounter an obstacle for each stage of their practice. It may come from within the mind or from the outside world. When that one true thought within the heart is hidden in life, quiet and unwavering, it shows that the work of refining the mind is gradually becoming mature.

When doubt falls away all at once, the true mind can remain for a long time.

After receiving the oral instructions from a true master, one must practice with courage and diligence, guard the true thought at all times, and take up the responsibility of cultivating the Dao.

Do not dwell on the future, cling to the past, or delight in what is happening before you. Let go of distinctions between past, present, and future, and you can return to the undivided purity of the natural order.

When you encounter external things, the mind can perceive them at once without losing its way. Here, the text cites the Sixth Patriarch: when things appear, thoughts may arise immediately, but one remains clearly aware of them and is not led along by them.

When sounds are heard, the mind remains settled and is not stirred by them. The explanation in the Heart Sutra says, “Let the world be filled with turmoil; the elders at home remain at ease all day.” This compares the mind’s composure to elders sitting peacefully at home, undisturbed, to show that the mind can remain settled even when the outside world is active. The original text repeats this passage.

The mind is open and bright, like the sun hanging high in the sky. Throughout all twelve double-hours of the day, that spark of spiritual clarity remains awake and undimmed.

When the mind is still, one must also turn the light around and reflect inward, so that the mind becomes clear. That is, amid calm and stillness, gather the mind and spirit back to contemplate oneself. “Northern Sea” is a term in Daoist Neidan, referring to the area around the body’s lower Dantian.

The “Eight Winds” here refers to the ways the outside world stirs the senses and thoughts, including sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and the mind. Only when none of these can shake the mind is it truly stable.

Only then is there hope of attaining the Great Dao. First refine the mind until it is mature, then begin the actual cultivation. When practice produces results, the Dao may be attained. If one’s nature and mind are not yet mature, cultivation is unlikely to bear fruit, and the Dao will be difficult to attain.

Cultivation of the Great Dao cannot be undertaken in isolation; it also requires the support of fellow practitioners. If one’s strength is weak and one’s original Qi is insufficient, it is difficult to achieve anything.

Power is like wealth. Without material resources, even when one has a method, it is difficult to get things done. The Sixth Patriarch, Huineng, was supported by the Chan master Shenhui; the twenty-seventh patriarch, Prajnatara, received assistance from the king of the Kingdom of Xiangzhi. Neither act of giving was greater or lesser than the other; both helped bring the work of the Dao to completion. Yet some people have rooms full of gold and silver, with wealth piled high, but do not believe in the path to Buddhahood and willingly live like ghosts. What is there to cherish in that?

Cultivating the Dao also depends on virtuous people, so that one may journey with them toward awakening.

Virtue is the hardest thing to find. Only a person with the heart of a Buddha or patriarch has the virtue required of a cultivator of the Dao. For example, when the Sixth Patriarch, Huineng, was about to travel to Shaozhou, he met Liu Zhilu along the way, and they became friends. Their hearts were in accord; this, too, is the virtue needed in cultivating the Dao.

To discern whether a companion is sincere, one must take time to understand their nature and motives in depth. A person’s goodness or evil often does not become apparent without a period of observation.

Some people are competitive and eager to prevail; some seek only merit gained through deliberate action; others think highly of their own abilities, or believe that Buddhas and patriarchs are born that way.

To be competitive and eager to prevail means liking people when they suit one’s preferences and becoming displeased when they do not. Such people are not suited to learning the Dao. Seeking only merit gained through deliberate action means reading scriptures and worshipping the Buddha, building bridges and repairing roads, constructing temples, and observing precepts solely to accumulate outward merit. These acts, in themselves, have no direct connection to seeking the Dao. The Sixth Patriarch said that attachment to good fortune still leaves one vulnerable to calamity, so why pursue it single-mindedly?

People in the world who lack ambition often think they are highly capable. Ordinary people who have not received the true transmission may sometimes assume that those who have attained the Dao were born that way. They do not know that the Great Dao is open to everyone.

When you encounter people of these kinds, never reveal the secrets of cultivating the Dao; do not say even one word more than necessary.

Some people value money and look down on righteousness. They lack benevolence and virtue, and cannot bear the Dao.

Others leave things unfinished: they begin with enthusiasm, then gradually grow lax.

Some people speak well on the surface but are evil within. They use cultivation of the Dao to seek fame and reputation. Others seem warm and attentive but are actually trying to deceive; still others appear modest and gentle while thinking only of their own gain. There are also people whose ancestors did not accumulate De. Even if their descendants cultivate, Heaven will not transmit the Great Dao to them.

When observing these hidden realities, one should meet such people as if foolish and unaware, without revealing oneself. If one is fortunate enough to receive the true teachings from a genuinely virtuous master, one should personally investigate the roots of nature and life—the cultivation of human nature and life—and continually reflect on them.

Keep seeking the principles secretly transmitted by the Buddha. What is called “secret” refers to nature and life. To seek into nature and life for oneself is proof enough that one has received the Dao. Being born with a heart of loyalty, filial devotion, benevolence, righteousness, and compassion shows that one already possesses the roots of cultivation by nature and has practiced in a previous life.

To act with compassion and help others is to extend a broad-hearted benevolence. Only those who observe all Five Precepts, respect their teachers and value the Dao, and make firm, earnest vows deserve to be called companions in the Dao and protectors of the Dharma. Those who understand these principles are fit to be partners in studying the Dao.

Only then will the master reveal the Tathagata’s secret and transmit the patriarchs’ essential instructions. At that point, the Great Dao may be taught. In the end, both the giver and the receiver attain the Orthodox Way together. The giver is the master, and the receiver is the disciple. When the disciple can support the master in attaining the Dao, the master can then transmit the Dao.

It is also said that both the giving of material aid and the giving of the Dharma—helping others with resources and teaching them the Dao—can lead people together to the far shore. The other person helps me complete my cultivation with material resources, and I help that person advance in cultivation through the Dao. Thus the Tathagata taught that giving material aid and giving the Dharma are equal in value.

When undertaking the great work of cultivation—here, “great work” means the ten-month practice of passing through the barrier—one should choose a quiet place or a famous mountain.

The place for cultivation should be quiet and secluded, away from the disturbance of people coming and going. It should also be far from burial grounds, whose Yin energy can intrude upon a person. If a mountain contains a place where an ancient master who attained the Dao once cultivated, there will be no disturbance from outside demons, and the righteous spirits will offer protection.

A dwelling should not be too tall or too large, or it may invite trouble. Its walls should be solid and thick, to keep harmful insects away. The light inside should be balanced—not too bright and not too dim. Excessive brightness harms the Po, while excessive darkness harms the Hun. “Hun” and “Po” are traditional Daoist terms for aspects of a person’s spiritual life.

Food should be clean, strictly vegetarian, and free of all spices and the Five Pungent Plants. The original text holds that spices scatter Qi, while the Five Pungent Plants nourish the essence of lust.

All the ritual implements should be prepared. Before beginning cultivation in the chamber, place one jin of realgar beneath the bed to ward off evil influences. Hang an ancient mirror, which is believed to reveal demons in their true form when they appear. Also prepare a peachwood sword to repel demons from outside. The seat should be steady and comfortable, so that the mind does not become agitated.

Before entering the chamber to cultivate, master and disciple must swear to be of one mind. To undertake this great work, they must share the same intention before beginning. If their resolve is insincere when they enter the chamber, the practitioner may be harmed as a result.

Once the work is complete and the Dao’s methods have been mastered, one should move through the world with ease and composure, guiding those who are lost. After attaining the Dao, one should proclaim the wondrous teachings and guide later practitioners. The scripture gives the Sixth Patriarch as an example: after completing the Dao, he emerged into the world when he encountered “wind □”, guiding those who came after him, teaching the Dharma, and liberating people. It is inappropriate for practitioners in the mountains today to teach before they have attained the Dao.

One should widely extend compassionate methods and offer wondrous remedies that help people escape hardship, regarding oneself and all beings as traveling the same path. This was the shared aspiration of the ancient Buddhas and sages.

Resolving Doubts, Chapter Fourteen

Six Questions from Liaoran

Question: Why can one worship the Buddha and still fail to attain the Dao?

Answer: Since the Buddha is in the midst of emptiness, why cling to the act of bowing? The Diamond Sutra says, “If one sees me through form, one is following a false path and cannot see the Tathagata.” Bowing is not entirely without purpose; it expresses sincerity, but it has no direct connection to attaining the Dao.

Question: Why can one recite scriptures and still fail to attain the Dao?

Answer: Scriptures are words spoken by the Buddha. If you recite them just so the Buddha will hear, why recite them to him? If you are reciting them only for yourself, you need not necessarily do so in this way. The Diamond Sutra says, “If one seeks me through sound, one is following a false path and cannot see the Tathagata.” “Buddha” is a title used by people in the West, while “Confucius” is the family name of a person from China. What fault has the Buddha committed that you must recite his name? It is like hoping to come first in an exam while knowing only how to loudly recite a sage’s surname. Will that help you pass? The Sixth Patriarch said, “People in the East create karma and recite the Buddha’s name, hoping to be reborn in the West. If people in the West create karma, where do they hope to go by reciting the Buddha’s name?” So what help is recitation alone in cultivating the Dao?

Question: Why can one receive the precepts and still fail to attain the Dao?

Answer: The so-called precepts are rules established for people who have committed wrongs. After the Tathagata attained the Dao, many people gathered around him. Manjushri then asked the Tathagata to establish precepts to guide those of shallower capacity, so they would not cause trouble. The Sixth Patriarch said, “When the mind is at peace, why labor to uphold the precepts?” The Great Dao lies within a person’s nature and life, while the precepts concern only outward conduct. When the inner mind and outward behavior are out of harmony, one cannot attain the Dao.

Question Four: Chan Buddhism’s “seven-day retreat” (seven consecutive days devoted to concentrated Chan practice) is now described by Buddhists as the highest method of cultivation, yet I have never seen anyone attain the Dao through it. Those who practice it often vomit blood instead. Why is this? Since the Buddha (Shakyamuni) began teaching, the twenty-eight patriarchs in the Western Regions and the six patriarchs in the East have never practiced this method. It was invented by the monk Gaofeng’s disciples, who are leading later generations to ruin. Gaofeng understood only textual scholarship; he did not understand the Buddha’s Way. Moreover, what they practice is merely a deviant method of holding the breath. Those who vomit blood have damaged their internal organs by kneeling with incense in hand and forcibly holding their breath. Measuring time by incense during seated meditation and sitting through several incense sticks in a row also damages the channels along the spine. Even famous physicians such as Lu Yi and Bian Que could not save them. In the future, someone who has truly attained the Dao will abolish this method and save countless lives.

Question Five: Someone took part in a seven-day retreat and claims to have suddenly awakened to Buddha-nature. Now he is vomiting blood, yet he turns around and teaches others to practice. Has he truly awakened to Buddha-nature?

Huayang laughed heartily and said: In anyone who has truly attained the Dao, the channels throughout the body flow freely, the Yang Qi within is harmonious and abundant, and no Yin Qi obstructs it. Vomiting blood results from an imbalance of Yin and Yang, excessive Fire Qi, and blocked Yin Qi. If someone cannot even preserve life, how could he have awakened to Buddha-nature? There is no need to investigate this further; the answer is clear on its own.

Question Six: Since the Sixth Patriarch suddenly awakened upon hearing the Diamond Sutra, he should have been able to “give rise to the mind without abiding anywhere” (the mind does not cling to any place, yet a clear and lucid mind can arise). Why, then, did he still seek an audience with the Fifth Patriarch?

Answer: What the Sixth Patriarch awakened to was the Dao of nature—the principles of one’s inherent nature and the Great Dao. He himself knew that there was still the Dao of the wisdom-life, the transmission concerning cultivation and life’s fundamental source. So he traveled thousands of miles and earnestly asked his master for instruction, in order to receive the transmission of the wisdom-life. The wisdom-life must be transmitted by a master; it cannot be obtained through abstract realization alone.

Li Sibai, a scholar from Jieyi, whose personal name was Yu and Daoist name Qiongyu, posed six questions.

Question One: In the past, I had no faith at all in Buddhism or Daoism. I heard Zhu Xi say that Buddhism and Daoism teach emptiness and stillness, and so I rejected them both.

The disciple asked, “In the past, I had little faith in either Buddhism or Daoism. I heard Zhu Xi say that both taught only emptiness and annihilation, so I paid them no further attention. Earlier, when my friend Zhai kindly sent me your book, I did not want to read it at first. Later I leafed through it reluctantly and learned that it truly contained methods of cultivation, so I came to believe without doubt. After practicing for half a month, I was fortunate to experience the true seed—the sign, described in cultivation, of inner vitality or subtle Qi stirring. I felt all eight vessels, the meridian system described in cultivation theory, open at once. Ailments I had suffered for years were cured overnight. Now a śarīra, a sign of a practitioner’s accomplishment, has formed as well. I am truly fortunate. I have heard that some monastics nowadays say as soon as they open their mouths that they have already awakened to their original nature and need no cultivation. They also say that even if cultivation brings achievement, it will eventually decay. Is this right?”

The Master replied, “That is merely how they seek food and clothing. They also fear that people will say they lack spiritual attainment and take their followers away, so they use words to draw people in and win them over. What real cultivation could they have? If cultivation were unnecessary, why would the World-Honored One have practiced for six years in the Snowy Mountains, Bodhidharma for nine years at Shaolin, or the Sixth Patriarch for fifteen years in seclusion? These accounts all have a basis. Those who claim that sudden awakening alone leads to the Dao are merely using words to deceive the world. What genuine practice do they have? Without cultivation, when Qi is cut off, a person dies.”

The disciple asked again, “Is the Dao attained through a single method of cultivation, or through two?”

The Master replied, “The cultivation practiced by the Buddhas of ten thousand kalpas ultimately comes down to one method. Only those who have not yet attained the wisdom-life—the wisdom and the true working of life described in cultivation—speak of divisions between schools. Those who truly attain the wisdom-life ultimately return to oneness. This is precisely what the World-Honored One meant when he said, ‘Remove the two, and it is not true.’”

The third question: Today, when the Chan school transmits its lineage, is it transmitting the true Dharma? Some also say that once a monk becomes an abbot, he no longer needs to seek a teacher or ask about the Dharma. He has become a senior monk in his own right and may ascend to the Buddha’s rank and preach on the Buddha’s behalf. What Dharma is actually being transmitted?

Answer: From India to China, from the time of the Patriarch Bodhidharma and the Sixth Patriarch onward, the Dharma was transmitted orally, with mind and intention attuned to one another. That is why the Fifth Patriarch said, “Between teacher and disciple, the original teaching must be transmitted secretly.” Today, the true lineage has been lost. People merely write a monk’s name on a piece of paper and call it Dharma transmission. This is like actors in a theater troupe claiming to be Emperor Gaozu of Han or the Hegemon-King of Chu. Those who preach seem like cowherd boys singing folk songs, using them to deceive the ignorant. Anyone who understands the matter finds it truly laughable.

The fourth question: Is Chan meditation through investigating a huatou a true path?

Answer: This is merely a heterodox branch of Buddhism, which is why it relies on investigating a huatou to claim superiority. To follow the orthodox Buddhist path, one must first cultivate both together and practice steadily; there is no need to keep asking about the huatou.

The fifth question: Why do people who meditate experience the leakage of Jing and Qi?

Answer: By the age of fifteen or sixteen, Jing and Qi are abundant, so leakage occurs naturally. Without receiving the true transmission, one does not know how to apply the “fire method”—the method of regulating and refining Jing and Qi in cultivation. How, then, could one prevent leakage? To stop it, one must continually apply the fire method to train the parts of the body where leakage is likely, transforming Jing into Qi and guiding it upward. In this way, leakage will not occur.

Question Six: Some people in the Chan tradition today say that losing Jing and Qi during cultivation is no obstacle. Is this view correct?

Answer: This is the most fundamental heterodox view. The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says that unless the body of sexual desire, the mind of sexual desire, and the underlying thought of sexual desire are all eliminated, one will fall into the demonic path and remain unable to attain liberation even after a million kalpas. How much more so when Jing and Qi are lost even once: in principle, this is just like an ordinary person having sexual intercourse once. There has never been a Buddha in heaven who lost Jing and Qi; where, then, would their śarīra (the bones or crystallized relics left behind after a eminent monk’s death) come from? This is a view held by those at a lower level in Buddhism and is not worth discussing.

Thirteen Questions Raised by the Monk Zhenyuan

Question One: Where should one begin cultivating the true Way?

Answer: Begin with the place where the heart and the gaze of the eyes are focused. It is also said that views of this lower level are not worth discussing.