《玄肤论》

The Xuanfu Lun was written by Lu. Lu once heard the learning of nature and life (xingming) from a sage teacher; his mind suddenly opened in understanding, and he set down what had been transmitted to him, arranging it in twenty chapters of more than seven thousand characters and naming the work Xuanfu.

“Xuanfu” means that these writings discuss mysterious principles, yet offer only a surface account, not a profound and thorough treatise. The farther one stands from the ancient sages, the more easily the great Dao (the Way) fails to be transmitted. Arrogant and ignorant teachers each promote their own views, for the most part merely seizing on a few specious sayings with which to cover deceit. Thus some monks speak only in empty Chan phrases and compete in showing off sharp repartee; some recklessly discourse on the art of refining gold and silver; those who teach renyuan (the claim that cultivation is carried out through the sexual union of man and woman) take the lead in disturbing practice with the doctrine of the chamber elixir; and those who teach ingestion harm nature and life with drugs of metal and stone. When learning is not made clear, the harm it brings is endless, and people of humaneness are deeply troubled by it.

I, Lu, began as a literary scholar and devoted myself to the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism for nearly twenty years. In that time I walked many dangerous side paths and fell into predicaments hard to fathom. Again and again I met with setbacks, and again and again I rose; only because my original sincerity never turned back was I fortunate enough to meet this opportunity.

One’s nature must be realized by oneself, while the learning of nature and life must depend on transmission from a teacher. Even these two statements leave something unsaid. Why? Even a person of the highest natural endowment must truly comprehend the teaching when it is heard. Without personally receiving the secret transmission of a lineage, and acting only on one’s own ideas, one is like a blind person without a staff, at a loss as to where to go.

There are three reasons one may fail to hear the great Dao. One may cling to worldly flavors and take illusion for the normal state, or else sink into empty stillness and slight cultivation in actual life: this is called a mind of unbelief. One may have some slight intent to turn toward the Dao, yet remain entangled by the world, unable to break free at once, and merely set the matter aside while holding on a little: this is called a mind that does not see things through. One may suppose that one already understands the Dao of the sages, refuse beneficial counsel, and love only lofty talk, so that many others abandon cultivation and study: this is called a mind that is not empty.

If even one of these three attitudes is present, a sage teacher will not look with favor, and good teachers and worthy friends will be hard to approach. If delay continues long, habit hardens into nature, and one may reach the end of life without ever having heard the great Dao—truly pitiable. I am deeply anxious and fearful of this, uneasy day and night, and dare not give myself up. I have therefore cast aside deluded thoughts and settled my mind on seeking the great Dao.

In the intervals of quiet cultivation I have traced the essential purport of the sage teacher’s instruction and, for the time being, set it down in chapters. Even if in doing so I offend what is taboo, I dare not decline. My intention is only to clarify the true purport and transmit the orthodox lineage, so that people may know how to turn toward the Dao.

Some say that the ancients mostly wrote books only after they had succeeded in cultivating the Dao, and that in hastening to speak out I am perhaps too impatient. I have heard that the highest is to establish De (Virtue/Power), and the next is to establish words; some words cannot go unsaid. I take myself to be capable only of this secondary work of establishing words. As for the great Dao itself, one must go further and cultivate De to completion. To establish De—though I have the aspiration, I have not yet achieved it.

On the ninth day of the ninth month of the dingmao year, the first year of the Longqing reign (1567).

On the Three Origins

I heard my teacher say: “Elixir methods are divided into three origins, and any of them may be used to complete the cultivation of nature and life.” The three origins are the celestial origin, the terrestrial origin, and the human origin.

The celestial origin is called the “Divine Elixir.” In refining the Divine Elixir, water must be placed above and fire below, and the work carried out in the divine chamber—the furnace chamber used for alchemy—so that what is formless gives rise to tangible substance. After nine cycles, when the firing phases and the number of firings are sufficient, it is refined into white snow; if the refining is continued for another three years, this can be transformed into a divine talisman. Once it is ingested, the body becomes light and one can ascend in flight. This is a matter of the transformation of medicines and of marvelous efficacy, an extraordinary undertaking of sages and immortals. Related methods, such as the Dragon-Tiger method of Xuanyuan and the Stone Casket method of Perfected Jingyang, are already recorded in detail in the literature.

The terrestrial origin is called the “Numinous Elixir.” By transmuting metals and minerals, the Numinous Elixir turns them into precious treasures. Elixirs of this kind are made from tangible substances such as silver, lead, cinnabar, and mercury. They can be used only to benefit the world; they cannot make the body light and vigorous, nor bring about flight and ascension. When the refining reaches nine cycles, one takes the most numinous of the medicines and can cast from it a divine chamber, and thereby go on to continue the Dao (the Way) of the celestial origin. The terrestrial elixir method is the boat of cultivating the Dao, and the support on which students of the Dao rely. Eminent sages and perfected ones of past and present have all regarded it as a sacred undertaking. Its method is simple to describe: it is nothing more than taking the lead of Prior Heaven, subduing the mercury of Posterior Heaven, and distinguishing whether the medicines float or sink and whether the firing is mature or tender. Nowadays most teachers who do not understand these principles fail to grasp them, so their repeated attempts at refining fail, and in the end they accomplish nothing. They do not realize that the terrestrial elixir method is no different from the human elixir method; only those who thoroughly understand Yin-Yang and deeply comprehend the workings of creation are fit to discuss these matters.

The human origin is called the “Great Elixir.” It sets up the cauldron and furnace outside the body and refines the medicine within the body, using Kan water to replenish Li fire, drawing on the principles of creation and applying in reverse the laws of natural transformation. Among the lofty immortals and sages of antiquity, there was none who did not cultivate this method. Thus, in the learning by which the cultivation of nature and life is brought to completion, nothing is more immediate and solid than the human origin.

The elixir methods of the three origins differ from one another. The celestial origin concerns heaven and earth, ghosts and spirits, and is not something that human effort can certainly obtain. When the terrestrial method has clear rules, is cultivated properly, and both fortune and opportunity are favorable, obtaining it is like reaching out one’s hand to take an object. The human origin is said to be able to master the cosmos and to make the transformations of the myriad things arise from oneself; its principles cannot be fathomed by ghosts and spirits, and the transformations of Yin-Yang cannot escape its calculations.

Are the three origins, then, also distinguished as greater and lesser? The reply is: “I heard my teacher say that heaven embraces the great earth, and the great earth bears human beings; the distinction of greater and lesser can be seen from this.” This is the ranking of the three origins.

Cultivating the “learning of the human origin” (an elixir method practiced through the joint work of the human person and medicinal substances) requires that a cauldron be set up outside and that the medicine be refined within. Only thus does the distinction between “inner medicine” and “outer medicine” arise. When people speak of outer medicine, most have missed its essential point; they pass on rumors uncritically and let error breed further error—truly a cause for regret.

The Dao (the Way) lies in oneself, and inner refinement ought to take the body as its furnace and cauldron. Why, then, set up a cauldron outside as well? This is a measure the sage adopts only when there is no alternative. Laozi once compared the use of arms to just such an unavoidable resort, saying: “Weapons are inauspicious instruments; the sage uses them only when compelled to do so.”

The three medicines of the highest grade are Shen (spirit), Qi (vital energy), and Jing (essence). All are endowments a person possesses from birth. Originally they form one undivided whole, not yet differentiated—what need is there to cultivate them further? Thus every newborn infant is like a sacred embryo. Once passion and desire arise, however, that innate wholeness is broken. The elixir-source originally one’s own changes continually with the years and months and gradually falls into the “postnatal” state. All that is postnatal belongs to yin and is hard to preserve for long, so one must draw on a prenatal thing of the same kind to replenish it. The prenatal thing of the same kind meant here is the “Qian metal of the great yang” (symbolizing pure-yang prenatal Qi). Only when yang Qi refines and transforms yin substance can the bodily form endure.

The Cantong qi (a classic of Daoist Neidan, internal alchemy) says: “To accomplish the way of ingestion that leads to immortality, one must seek a thing of the same kind. A broken fence is mended with bamboo; to hatch a chicken, one must use an egg.” The analogy is perfectly clear.

One must also understand that the Qi of the other party and one’s own Qi both arise from a single Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). The Jing of Yin and of Yang contain one another; cultivation cannot be carried on by one side alone. The Yijing says: “One yin and one yang—this is called the Dao.” It also says: “Like sounds answer one another; like breaths resonate together.” The Cantong qi likewise says: “When the Qi of yin and yang join, primordial Qi thereupon sprouts and grows.” This is the principle on which creation works: follow the natural order, and human beings are generated; reverse the natural order, and the Golden Elixir is refined. Such transformation is wondrous and spontaneous; it cannot be denied.

Is refining the medicine within and setting up the cauldron without undertaken merely to make good what one oneself lacks?

The Zhouyi Cantong Qi (abbreviated as the Cantong Qi, a Daoist classic on the principles of elixir refining) says: “Heaven and Earth are assigned their fixed positions, and the Dao (the Way) of transformation operates within them.” The “Yi” (Change) meant here refers to Kan and Li. A verse in Zhang Boduan’s Wuzhen Pian (a classic of Daoist Neidan, or internal alchemy) says: “First take Qian and Kun as the cauldron and furnace, then gather the medicines of the crow and the rabbit to cook and refine.” Qian and Kun represent the images of Yin and Yang; the crow and the rabbit represent the Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) of Yin and Yang.

The Li trigram symbolizes the sun. The sun belongs to Yang, yet the middle line of the Li trigram is Yin, indicating that Yin lies hidden within Yang. The Kan trigram symbolizes the moon. The moon belongs to Yin, yet the middle line of the Kan trigram is Yang, indicating that Yang lies hidden within Yin. The Cantong Qi says: “The Kan male is the sun; the Li female is the moon.” This is precisely the principle in question. From this we can see that Qian and Kun represent pure Yin and pure Yang, while Kan and Li represent the joining of Yin and Yang.

Corresponding to human life, before sensual desire has yet arisen, the body presents a state of pure Yin and pure Yang like that of Qian and Kun. Once sensual desire arises and the Yin and Yang of the body begin to join, the Jing and Qi in which Yin and Yang conceal each other come into play. The number of Young Yin is eight, and the male belongs to Young Yin, so when a male reaches sixteen his Jing and Qi course freely. The number of Young Yang is seven, and the female belongs to Young Yang, so when a female reaches fourteen, tiangui (the Jing and Qi related to reproductive development) arrives. Does this not show that Yang contains the number of Yin and Yin contains the number of Yang, and thereby reveal the principle that Yin and Yang harbor one another?

Someone asks: “A male’s Jing and Qi coursing freely at sixteen is because bodily development meets with a resonance; when a female’s tiangui arrives at fourteen, what resonance is she meeting?”

Someone asked: “Let us set aside, for the moment, whether there is any sympathetic response. As soon as that current of Qi (vital energy) has arrived, the still-undifferentiated whole has already been broken. The position of Earth lies beneath layer upon layer of Yin Qi, when suddenly a single Yang returns. This is the hexagram corresponding to the eleventh month of the lunar calendar—the Fu hexagram (the hexagram in which one Yang is first born and Yang Qi begins to return). At this moment, where does the original mind of Heaven and Earth’s ceaseless engendering actually appear? Confucius sighed over this. Was it not precisely because, although the Qi of creative interaction had not yet spread and interfused, the pivot of generation and transformation had already been set in motion?

At the moment when movement is about to begin and yet has not begun, and even within movement still seems not to have begun, this is called the True Unity Qi of the Pre-Heaven (Xiantian; the fundamental primordial Qi that exists prior to concrete form). It is the root of creation and transformation, and the hinge upon which the myriad things come into being and change. Once the various signs appear and form together with visible aspect emerge, one has already fallen to the level of tangible substance, which belongs to the Post-Heaven (Houtian). Therefore the ‘breaking’ of which I speak is reckoned from the moment the dynamic of Qi begins to stir. It does not mean that one must wait until the breaths have responded to one another, spread, and fully intermingled before it counts as ‘breaking.’

Consider, further, the time when a man first has the passage of Jing (essence; when reproductive essence begins to form). At the outset there is not necessarily any tangible turbid substance. Qi must arrive first, then transform into liquid, and only afterward transform further into Jing. The Qi that arrives first is Pre-Heaven Qi; when Qi transforms into water, this is what is called ‘the water born of Heavenly One’ (in the traditional view of cosmic generation, water arises from the number One of Heaven). Once the substance of the Pre-Heaven is stirred and made manifest, the function of the Post-Heaven operates along with it; and once the function of the Post-Heaven is in operation, the true impulse of the Pre-Heaven becomes all the more hidden and subtle. When the mystery of creation and transformation is revealed to this point, who can say it is not so? If you do not believe it, you may ask the teacher.”

On the Pre-Heaven and the Post-Heaven

“Why is it that, once the function of the Post-Heaven is in operation, the true impulse of the Pre-Heaven becomes, on the contrary, all the more hidden and subtle?”

The “innate True”—that is, a person’s original, genuine Qi (vital energy) before any influence from acquired activity—cannot be seen directly. Whatever can be seen belongs to the “acquired.” The mucus, saliva, fluids, Jing (essence), Qi, blood, and secretions spoken of today are all things possessed of form and substance. They belong to the acquired and therefore cannot be taken as the innate True. Some people accordingly regard Jing, Qi, and Shen (spirit) as the innate True, not realizing that once acquired activity begins to operate, Jing, Qi, and Shen also appear along with that functioning and become things of the acquired. They still cannot be taken as the innate True.

Why is this so? Once body and mind are opened and put to use, what people discuss and what they do all fall into the acquired. The innate True then sinks away and lies hidden, growing faint and hard to discern. It declines day by day and gradually becomes insufficient to govern the whole body. People age, fall ill, die, and suffer every kind of pain because the workings of the acquired are exhausted and the innate True is no longer present. If this is so, then in wishing the body to remain firm for a long time, what can one rely on besides preserving the innate True?

On Lead and Mercury

Someone asked, “Innate Qi is true lead. Where does the essential point of this statement lie?”

What is called the “True” here is set in contrast to the mundane. The True has no bodily form, while the mundane has visible appearance. To clarify the principle involved, one must begin from the root.

When Qian and Kun—Heaven and Earth—conjoin, Li and Kan, two of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), come into being. Once Qian and Kun have conjoined, the originally undifferentiated state is broken. Thus, in the arrangement of the Later Heaven (houtian) Bagua, Qian and Kun withdraw to positions of honor yet do not directly carry out the work, while Li and Kan take their place. South and north are thereby fixed: they are the two polar directions of Heaven and Earth. The positions occupied by Qian and Kun in the Prior Heaven (xiantian) Bagua are now occupied by Li and Kan, and the operations of the Later Heaven unfold.

Li symbolizes the sun, shining upon the south; Kan symbolizes the moon, illuminating the north. Sun and moon shine upon one another, and from this the myriad things grow. Although this is the functioning of the Later Heaven, it in fact still takes the original substance of the Prior Heaven as its foundation. Thus the true Qi (vital energy) within Kan is transformed into “lead,” which is the water spoken of in “Heaven’s One generates water”; the true Jing (essence) within Li is transformed into “mercury,” which is the fire spoken of in “Earth’s Two generates fire.”

Lead, mercury, water, and fire are all things in the human world that have names and forms. What are called “true lead” and “true mercury,” however, cannot be limited by names and images. One can only borrow these formed things as analogies and call them “the true and real”; what is actually meant is yin Jing and yang Qi. The Classic of Changes says: “When Jing and Qi condense, things take form; Jing and Qi unite.” The beginning of human life is likewise, in every case, the result of the functioning of the Prior Heaven.

Jing and Qi contain one another. A man is therefore endowed with Jing, and by employing Jing he can generate and transform; a woman is endowed with Qi, and by employing Qi she can flourish. Generating and transforming by means of Jing, one follows the natural order and becomes an ordinary person; flourishing by means of Qi, one reverses the ordinary direction of generation and transformation and cultivates the elixir. The “reversal” spoken of here is the teaching, in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy), of reversing the process by which ordinary people are generated and transformed. The saying “the Qi of the Prior Heaven is true lead” expresses precisely this principle: with the undisturbed true lead of the Prior Heaven, one restrains the true mercury long accumulated in the Later Heaven, and the two then draw close and depend on each other like husband and wife, or child and mother, unwilling to part. This arises of itself, and even the reason for it is not necessarily easy to explain. Without a deep understanding of the transformations of Yin-Yang and clear insight into the workings of creation, how could one grasp the principle here?

Primordial Qi (vital energy) may be compared to lead, and primordial Jing (essence) to mercury; what, then, is primordial Shen (spirit)?

The reply was: “Primordial Shen is a person’s original nature, the master of Jing and Qi. It is present everywhere, yet difficult to fathom; numinous and freely penetrating, it has no fixed trace, and so it is called Shen. When Shen comes to rest, Jing condenses; when Jing condenses, Qi returns and unites; when Qi returns and unites, Neidan (internal alchemy) takes form. All of this is the working of prior-heaven original nature.

What is called primordial Jing is not the seminal fluid produced by the sexual union of man and woman, but the true fluid stored in Li—one of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), symbolizing the heart and fire—that is, the numinous fluid of the heart’s spiritual nature. What is called primordial Qi is not the breath of mouth and nose, but the true Qi stored in Kan—one of the Bagua, symbolizing the kidneys and water—subsisting within emptiness. What is called primordial Shen is likewise not the spirit of ordinary thought and deliberation, but the luminous original reality that pervades the Limitless (Wuji) and is already present before one’s parents give birth.

A human being is itself a Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). Jing and Qi are the Yin-Yang within the Taiji; Shen is the Limitless from which the Taiji arises. This is the meaning of primordial Jing, primordial Qi, and primordial Shen.

The poem of the Perfected Cui Xu puts it well: ‘This Jing is not the Jing of sexual union between man and woman, but the fluid in the mouth of the Jade Emperor.’ Here the ‘Jade Emperor’ refers to the lord of the heart, that is, the heart; ‘the fluid in the mouth’ refers to the numinous fluid within the heart. The poem also says: ‘This Qi is not the Qi of breathing, but the vapor of Great Simplicity (Taisu).’ ‘The vapor of Great Simplicity’ refers to the prior-heaven Qi of true unity. It further says: ‘This Shen is not the Shen of thought and deliberation; it may stand shoulder to shoulder with the Primordial Sovereign.’ The ‘Primordial Sovereign’ is the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi Tianzun). The Shen spoken of here is the true nature of the Limitless, penetrating heaven and earth, extending throughout the cosmos, lofty and moving in independent operation.”

On the Governance of Shen

“How do we know that Shen governs Jing and Qi?”

This is spoken from the body-and-mind condition that a person comes to form at the post-heaven level. If the spirit and mind are seized by excessive fear, Jing (essence) scatters and is lost, and palpitations and unease appear; if the spirit and mind run to excessive indulgence, Qi (vital energy) is drained away, and the body too grows weak and withered. Thus, when Shen (spirit) is stored in Jing, it is called “jingshen”; when Shen is stored in Qi, it is called “shenqi.” When Jing and Qi come under the rule of Shen, it is like ministers who, having their sovereign, are held in honor.

Therefore, what matters most for one who cultivates the True is nourishing Shen. Shen is nature—a person’s original nature, the nature of the mind. When the mind-nature is settled, Shen is naturally at peace; when Shen is at peace, Jing can be kept; when Jing is kept, Qi arises of itself. Why is this? When the mind-nature is settled, the fire of the heart does not flare upward in excess; when the fire is not excessive, water does not dry up, and so the Jing within the body can also rest securely. The Jing in the five viscera and six bowels of the body all belongs to water. Once the Jing within the body rests securely, the Jing in the kidneys may be inferred as well.

The kidneys are the storehouse that holds Jing. When kidney Jing is full and abundant, it is like pooled water giving rise to a tide: it surges thickly upward, steams and suffuses the whole body like cloud and mist, and links above with below. The cultivator sets the primordial spirit (Yuan Shen, the spirit of the original source) to turning and directing within it, so that rising and descending, moving and stopping, all seem to lie in one’s grasp. This is called the joining of water and fire that reaches “Jiji” (water and fire in harmony, the state in which Yin-Yang come to each other’s aid). It is also called a gain in post-heaven Qi, with body and mind feeling as if mildly intoxicated.

These words, however, speak only of cultivation at the post-heaven level of the human body. As for the workings of the pre-heaven level—including gathering, conjunction, the shedding of the embryo, and spiritual transformation—these are the operation of the primordial unity (Yuan Yi, the pre-heaven source), and they are not something Shen can accomplish. Therefore, what matters most for one who cultivates the True is refining Shen. What is called refining Shen means refining the self with the jade liquid—tempering and purifying one’s own mind-nature through cultivation. This is the root that the Great Dao runs through from beginning to completion.

On the Golden Liquid and the Jade Liquid

In the methods of the elixir there is the saying, “refine the form with the golden liquid, and refine the self with the jade liquid.” What is the meaning of this?

The Dao (the Way) is the path of cultivation in which nature and life are cultivated together, so that both the bodily form and Shen (spirit) reach a subtle and wondrous state. Refining the form with the Golden Liquid is called “liaoming” (completing life—the completion of the cultivation of life); refining the self with the Jade Liquid is called “liaoxing” (completing nature—the completion of the cultivation of mind and nature).

What is the Jade Liquid? “Jade” is used to suggest gentleness, purity, and steadfast integrity; “gold” is used to describe what is firm, strong, and not easily destroyed. In cultivating mind and nature, one must continually diminish selfish desires and overcome self-centered obstinacy, so that mind and nature become gentle and pure, possessed of virtue as jade is. When this is achieved, the inner cultivation may be considered mature. Only then may one approach the furnace to gather the medicine and undertake a period of refining and nourishing practice.

When the time is ripe and the inner movement of Qi (vital energy) is set in motion, one uses the Kan trigram of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams)—symbolizing water, Yang within Yin—to fill the Li trigram—symbolizing fire, Yin within Yang—gathering “lead” and subduing “mercury” (alchemical terms for the symbolic substances employed in cultivation). The single Yang line in the Kan trigram is the precelestial metal of Qian, also called the Golden Liquid. Using it to refine the form can transform the body into a body of pure Yang, so that the physical frame remains stable for a long time, as firm and indestructible as gold.

Jade refining and gold refining are therefore the work of the dual cultivation of nature and life, by which both form and spirit attain a subtle and wondrous state. Jade refining belongs to the way of Wuwei (non-action); gold refining belongs to the art of youwei (deliberate action). One first passes from Wuwei into youwei, and after the work of youwei is completed, returns to Wuwei. The principle of cultivating nature and life is thereby realized, and the work of cultivation is brought to completion.

On Nature and Life

What is nature? What is life?

Someone said: “Nature (Xing) is the common root of all things; life (Ming) is the vital existence with which a person is endowed and which is established in the self. Without life, nature has no way to manifest; without nature, life lacks numinous vitality. Nature is the master of life, and life is that in which nature lodges. Nowadays some commentators tend to separate nature and life and set forth a doctrine for each, yet they do not realize that vessels and the Dao (the Way) depend upon one another, that being and non-being are causes of each other, and that emptiness and fullness generate one another. Nature and life cannot, in their origin, be split into two things.

“Nature is Shen (spirit), and life is Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy); nature is like the Limitless (Wuji), and life is like Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). Can the two be separated from each other? Some say that Buddhists emphasize illuminating the mind and seeing nature, while Daoists emphasize cultivating the life within nature and life. This is not a complete account. When Buddhists speak of ‘no mark of a self,’ it is in order to break down views of craving and attachment; when Daoists speak of ‘guarding the mother,’ they prize a return to the nameless origin. If one does not understand nature, how can one understand life? And once life is understood, can nature be cast aside? Therefore, to speak of nature without falling into empty talk is already to have life within it; to hold fast to the root and return to simplicity is already to have nature within it. This is called understanding life and returning to nature, and it is also called both bodily form and spirit attaining wondrous subtlety and uniting with the Dao as the real.”

Someone asked: “Your discussion of nature and life is already clear and thorough. I would like to ask: what, after all, is the nature that a person possesses? Can it be seen?”

The reply was: “Nature is originally invisible; what can be seen is precisely the manifestation of nature. If one tries to seek, within what cannot be seen, that which causes it to appear, one will only grow ever farther from nature. Why? Nature, as what is so of itself, can it be grasped by a mind bent on deliberate pursuit?”

“Original nature” (benxing) cannot, in itself, be seen directly; what is able truly to manifest is original nature. If one deliberately presses, precisely where it cannot be seen, the question of how it manifests, one only drifts farther and farther from it. Why is this so? Original nature can appear when it is not sought with the mind, but it cannot be obtained by intentional pursuit. In antiquity the old sage spoke of it in terms of “Taipu” (the uncarved state of pure simplicity) and “the Nameless” (wuming). When the Yellow Emperor sought the “Xuanzhu” (the precious pearl symbolizing the profound Dao [the Way]), it was in the end found by “Wangxiang” (the state without form, without mind, and without thought). All these metaphors carry deep meaning.

Consider, further, how a human being comes into being. The true reality of Wuji (the undifferentiated origin) wondrously unites and coalesces with the Jing (essence) of the two Qi (vital energy) of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). What is called “nature” (xing) is Wuji; what is called “life” (ming) is the Jing of the two Qi of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases. When the two wondrously unite, a person is born from this. Before a person is born, the so-called Wuji is an undifferentiated whole: where are form and name? Where are sound, breath, and the channels of the body? When the Qi of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases coalesces and the person receives spiritual nature, what deliberation, action, scheming, or contrivance is there? This is the original condition of original nature.

Later, emotion and cognition gradually awaken, and the original condition is obscured. Zhang Zai said: “Only when there is physical form is there the nature of the Qi-constitution; if one is skilled at returning to original nature, the nature of Heaven and Earth will be preserved.” The “emotion and cognition” spoken of here is the nature of the Qi-constitution; the original substance that has been diminished and obscured is the nature of Heaven and Earth. When Laozi speaks of “returning to simplicity, returning to the infant, returning to Wuji,” he is speaking precisely of skillfully returning to original nature.

Therefore, what matters most in cultivating the Dao is refining nature. When mind and nature are settled, the Qi-constitution is likewise stable and no longer entangled by external things, and the original condition manifests. My teacher’s poem says: “If one does not lose original nature, original nature naturally comes to rest; when original nature rests, Qi naturally turns back; when Qi turns back, the elixir (dan) naturally congeals; within the pot, Kan and Li are blended.” Here “Kan and Li” refer to water and fire, the Qi of Yin and Yang. The lines speak of using post-celestial (houtian) cultivation to accord with the pre-celestial (xiantian), so that it may bring its wondrous function into play. This is called awakening to the root of life through clearly understanding original nature.

On Dispositional Nature

“Original nature is only one. Why, then, is there a distinction between ‘original nature’ and ‘dispositional nature’ (zhixing)?”

Original nature is spoken of from the level of the innate (xiantian). It is pure, complete, and luminous, and is inherently sufficient in all things; the sage has nothing more of it on this account, and the foolish person has nothing less.

Temperamental nature is spoken of from the level of the acquired (houtian). It arises from the respective differences of bodily form and the endowment of Qi (vital energy), and only thus are there distinctions of clarity and turbidity, of thickness and thinness. The two Qi of Yin-Yang intermingle and transform, giving rise to human beings and the myriad things, each receiving a different endowment; the root of this difference lies in the Qi received when the fetus is first formed.

Why is this so? From the beginningless past down to the present day, people have used emotion and desire to damage the original foundation of life. Chasing external things gives rise to thoughts; encountering affairs gives rise to feelings; and over a long time these become habit. The Qi with which people are endowed may be pure or mixed, and so their cravings and desires may be deep or shallow. Each person borrows the original nature inherently possessed in order to satisfy selfish desire.

Temperamental nature cannot take effect by itself in a person. What truly sets it to work is its borrowing of the luminous awareness of original nature, just as an arrogant servant or a rebellious son issues orders in the master’s name.

Water is therefore often used as a comparison. Original nature is like water; falling into the acquired temperament is like water flowing into mud. When the water is drawn out, one sees only the mud and not the water. Yet how could the mud itself flow? In fact it is the water that flows, only mixed in the mud so that it does not show itself. After a long period of settling and clarification, clear water floats above and turbid mud sinks below. When the water is drawn out again, what flows forth is entirely water. This is the practice of clarifying the mind and purifying thought, and it is also the power of returning to original nature.

Discourse on the Spirit Chamber

Question: “In what way do original nature and original spirit (Shen) differ?”

Answer: “Original nature is original spirit; there is no difference. It is numinously subtle and penetrating, hard to fathom, and able to respond to all affairs without any fixed place, and so it is called ‘spirit.’ It is called ‘original’ in order to distinguish it from the deliberation formed after birth.”

“Does the human spirit also have a dwelling where it can rest in peace?”

Answer: “I have heard Immortal Master Ziqing say that the human body has three ‘valleys,’ the places where the original spirit (Yuanshen, a person’s primordial spirit) and spiritual nature abide. Open and empty like mountain valleys, they are therefore called the Valley Spirit (Gushen). When Shen (spirit) is present, a person lives; when Shen departs, a person dies. By day, Shen meets with external things; by night, Shen meets with dreams, and so Shen can hardly dwell in peace. The Lingshu Neijing says: ‘The original spirit of the Heavenly Valley—guard it, and one is spontaneously true.’ This means that if one guards the original spirit within the Heavenly Valley, a person can preserve their innate authenticity.

In the human body, the upper region is called the Heavenly Valley (Tiangu), located at the Niwan (the seat of spiritual intent within the head); the middle region is called the Responsive Valley (Yinggu), located at the Crimson Palace (Jianggong, the region of the heart); the lower region is called the Numinous Valley (Linggu), located at the Guanyuan (the area below the navel). These three places are all dwellings of Shen, and they are also called the Three Fields (Santian, the three sites of cultivation within the human body).

I once explained it this way: the Niwan is the original palace in which the original spirit resides; the Crimson Palace is the bright hall from which it issues commands; the Numinous Valley is the secret chamber in which it is stored, nourished, and cultivated. When the original spirit dwells in the Crimson Palace, the ears can hear and the eyes can see, the five sense organs each perform their duties, and the parts of the body move accordingly. When the original spirit dwells in the Numinous Valley, the practitioner withdraws the gaze and gathers in the hearing, so that Shen and Qi (vital energy) guard one another, and the Yingpo (a person’s spirit together with the Qi of bodily form) return to unity.

Yangzi said: ‘Hide the heart in the abyss, and the spiritual root will be beautiful.’ Here the ‘abyss’ means a place deep, remote, and hard to fathom—that is, the Numinous Valley; it is the place where Shen is stored.”

When spirit (Shen) is gathered in and stored away, this is called “returning to the root.” Returning to the root is stillness, and stillness is a return to one’s original life. At this point one can see that Shen and vital energy (Qi) guard one another, clasping the primordial unity and not separating. When stillness reaches its utmost, the impulse to move arises; this is the working of Shen. Shen then rides the stirring of Qi upward to the “Nijiu” (so written in the original; it is usually called the Niwan, the site of internal cultivation in the head), and the course traveled by the River Chariot begins to run free.

One should know that the so-called course of the River Chariot is the Ren vessel and the Du vessel, at the front and back of the body. When Qi first begins to rise, it is like clouds of vapor welling up, pent and steaming between the two kidneys. It surges in, vast as a tide, and it also thaws, mild as ice and snow melting, spilling over the five shu points (acupoints on the body’s channels). This is a case of the fluids not following their usual ditches, but overflowing and spreading. At this moment one must at once use the intent of Shen to guide it back to the Weilu (the site near the lower end of the spine), send it upward along the Weilu, through the paired Jiaji passes (the two barrier-gates on the spine), up to the Fengfu, and straight on to the Niwan. Shen and Qi meet here.

After Shen and Qi have met in this place, the body grows open and easeful, harmonious and moist—this is plain even without being said. After a short while the fluids change into a fresh, sweet liquid, which flows down from the Chonglou (the throat), passes through the Jianggong (the site of internal cultivation in the region of the heart), enters the Ziting (a bodily site in internal cultivation), and returns to rest in the place where it was originally stored and nourished.

Circulating and infusing in this way without cease, in time the practice becomes thoroughly ripe. Qi fills the upper, middle, and lower three Dantian (energy centers), and the body is coordinated and unobstructed above and below. This is what is meant by the saying: “Always let Qi surge through and penetrate the joints, and naturally essence (Jing) will be full and the valley spirit will abide.” When internal cultivation reaches this stage, the verifying signs of practice appear. Yet if one has not entered deeply into the cultivation and personally attained this state, how could one grasp the sense of these words of mine?

On Clarifying Shen

“The dwelling place in which Shen is stored, as you have described it—I have understood. May I ask what the essential point of storing Shen is?”

The reply is: “To store Shen is to concentrate the heart-spirit. The key to concentrating Shen lies first in clarifying the heart-spirit; the key to clarifying Shen lies first in removing desire. The Treatise on Clearing Shen…”

In the original text the sentence “I at once use Shen to turn it back to the Weilu…” is repeated once; the ending likewise breaks off at the Treatise on Clearing Shen.

What is called “storing the spirit” means making Shen (spirit) concentrated and settled. To achieve concentration of the spirit, what matters most is first to clarify the mind and spirit; to clarify the mind and spirit, what matters most is first to eliminate desires. The Scripture of Purity and Stillness (Qingjing Jing) says: “Eliminate desires, and the mind naturally grows quiet; clarify the inner mind, and the spirit naturally grows lucid.” The Classic of Changes (Yijing) says: “The sage uses this method to wash the mind, so that the mind withdraws and is stored away in a deep and hidden place.” The “washing of the mind” spoken of here means clarifying the mind and spirit. Zhou Dunyi said: “Being without desire, one is therefore still.” The “absence of desire” here means eliminating desires completely.

The human spirit by nature delights in clarity and stillness, yet it is disturbed by the inner mind; the inner mind by nature delights in quiet, yet it is drawn along by desires. The “mind” spoken of here is of two kinds: what disturbs the spirit is the deluded mind (false and restless thoughts); what longs for quiet is the true mind (the mind that is clear and still from the beginning). As soon as the deluded mind appears, the spirit is startled and agitated—how can it then be clear and still? When the spirit is startled, it clings to all manner of things; once there is clinging, craving arises; and craving brings affliction with it. Affliction and delusive thoughts make body and mind worried and distressed—how can the inner mind then be quiet?

Therefore, in clarifying the mind and spirit, what matters most is to eliminate desires. When this is accomplished, one may look inward at one’s own mind and find that the so-called mind has no fixed substance, and that the “three minds” of past, present, and future cannot be grasped; look outward at one’s own bodily form and find that the body likewise has no fixed substance; and look farther at the myriad things and find that they too have no fixed, unchanging substance—thus forgetting the “four marks” that constitute attachment (discriminative clinging to self, to others, to living beings, and to life span). Once these three levels are understood, one sees only empty stillness: this is the “emptiness of the person.” Going further still, one does not cling even to “emptiness”: since what is emptied does not exist, “nonexistence” is no longer an object to which one can cling. Such clarity and silent stillness is the “emptiness of phenomena” (no longer clinging to any thing or to any conception of it).

When this state is reached, the entanglement of the senses with external things subsides; the six desires (cravings aroused by form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects) no longer arise, and the inner mind becomes quiet. When the mind is quiet, the spirit is naturally lucid, just as, when the surface of the water bears no ripples, the whole broad expanse is clear and bright.

The Celestial Master of Vacant Stillness (Xujing Tianshi, a Daoist honorific title), in the Song of the Great Dao (the Way), says: “If you wish the spirit within the body not to scatter outward, do not let any thing remain in the mind. When something remains in the mind, the spirit is not lucid; when true Jing (essence) is depleted and dispersed, the sinews and bones are harmed as well.” The principle of eliminating desires and clarifying the mind and spirit will not change the words I have spoken, even if after a thousand or a hundred years one waits for a sage to judge them.

Shen (spirit) has already grown clear and still—what further cultivation is still required?

The answer is that one must still nurture and conserve it. To nurture Shen is to draw in its radiance and not let it show itself too readily. The stiller and clearer Shen becomes, the more lucid it is; the more lucid it is, the more wisdom it displays. Because settled calm can give rise to wisdom, the spirit shines with brilliance, insight grows clear, and one seems all-knowing. Yet if one never ceases to employ this wisdom, and its light is revealed too freely, innate nature will instead be injured. The Zhuangzi says: “When the mind is tranquil and settled, the innate light will appear.” It also says: “Those of old who understood how to order the Dao (the Way) used wisdom to nurture tranquil repose.” After wisdom has arisen, one still keeps the mind in tranquil repose; this is to nurture wisdom by means of tranquil repose. The Zuowang Shuji Lun (a Daoist treatise on the cultivation of sitting in forgetfulness) says: “One may possess wisdom yet not hasten to put it to use, so that profound wisdom appears instead like dullness; in this way one can increase both stability of mind and wisdom, bringing both to a fine state.” The Daodejing says: “How solid and substantial—like uncarved raw wood; how thick and murky—like turbid water not yet divided from chaos.” It also says: “The multitude all appear clear-sighted; I alone seem dull. Everyone in the world is sharp and meticulous; I alone seem muddled.” All of these are the essentials of nurturing the spirit.

On Concentrating Shen

Shen has already been well nurtured—why must one still concentrate it?

What is meant by “concentrating Shen” (ningshen) is settling the heart-spirit without deliberate effort. This is the learning of cultivating nature and life. The Cantong qi (The Seal of the Unity of the Three) says: “Tend and nurture the root of the body and settle the heart-spirit, and the body can take form.” Practicing stillness in the Li Palace of the heart—that is, the heart—is the essential point of Chan meditation; seeking the mysterious in the Water Palace, the region of the kidneys and the lower Dantian (energy center), is the guiding aim of Neidan (internal alchemy). Clarifying and quieting the heart-spirit is important, yet concentrating and settling it is more urgent.

The Cuixu yin (Song of the Emerald Void) says: “In former times, on meeting a teacher who transmitted the oral instructions, one had only to concentrate Shen and enter the cavity of Qi (vital energy).” This cavity of Qi (qixue) is the root within the body where life is conceived. The Shenshi lun (Treatise on the Spirit Chamber) has already explained it in detail. The author feared that students would know only how to clarify and quiet the heart-spirit, yet not know where it should dwell, so that it would wander without a resting place and they would fail to grasp the basis of returning to the root and restoring life. He also feared that they would know only how to nourish Shen, yet not understand the method of concentrating it, and thus not know where to begin or how to discern the subtle changes in the workings of creation. For this reason he wrote the present discourse. Concentrating Shen is the key to entering the realm of the mysterious, and the most fundamental point of the elixir method.

The “concentration” spoken of here is not sitting rigid and motionless. It means letting the heart-spirit enter the cavity of Qi, keep watch together with the breath, and not separate from it. Laozi says: “Bearing the bodily form and embracing primordial Shen (yuanshen), can one keep them from separating?” The cavity of Qi is the root of life formed when, in the womb, a person first receives primordial Qi (yuanqi) and is endowed with the Jing (essence) and Qi of the parents. It is the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) inherent in each person. It has many names—Qihai (Sea of Qi), Guanyuan (Pass of the Origin), Linggu (Numinous Valley), Xiatian (Lower Field), Tiangen (Heavenly Root), Mingdi (Stem of Life), Guigen qiao (Aperture of Returning to the Root), and Fuming guan (Pass of Restoring Life)—all referring to the same place.

While in the mother’s womb, one’s breathing communicates with the mother. After birth, when the umbilical cord is cut, one has one’s own furnace and cauldron and one’s own heaven and earth, and every exhalation and inhalation returns to one’s own fundamental cavity of Qi. Breathing is the root by which a person sustains life. If a single breath cannot continue and the breath is cut off, the person dies. On exhalation, Qi extends outward and belongs to Yang; on inhalation, Qi draws inward and belongs to Yin. One exhalation and one inhalation together are called one breath. It is with good reason that those who diagnose the pulse observe the breath on this basis.

The Zhuangzi says: “The breathing of ordinary people goes in and out at the throat; the breathing of the True Person (zhenren) goes in and out at the heels.” “Going in and out at the heels” means that the breath enters deeply into the cavity of Qi. It is not that ordinary people lack deep breathing; only that the heart-spirit does not dwell there. Although the breath comes and goes, they themselves do not perceive it, and so it seems as if they breathe only with the throat. The True Person lets the heart-spirit follow the breath and enter deeply into the original cavity of Qi. The breath continues unbroken, as if present and as if absent, without a moment’s interruption. One can thereby make Qi unified and supple, hold primordial Qi so that it does not disperse, reach utmost emptiness and utmost stillness, and observe the movement of Qi returning to the root.

“Following the breath” does not mean chasing after the respiration. It means neither forgetting nor deliberately forcing it along. When the heart-spirit rests with the breath, it can be concentrated and settled; when the heart-spirit is concentrated and settled, Qi in turn gathers and grows supple. Heart-spirit and breath rely on each other and come into harmony, each helping the other to completion. The method of concentrating Shen begins with regulating the breath. What is called regulating the breath is letting the heart-spirit rest calmly in company with the breath.

What is called “breath” (xi) is of two kinds: one is ordinary breath (fanxi), and the other is true breath (zhenxi). Ordinary breath is the respiration that passes in and out through the mouth and nose; true breath is embryonic breathing (taixi), which moves up and down within the body’s original aperture. The state of which Master Huiweng spoke—“gathered and softly exhaling, like fish in a spring pond”—is precisely this.

Once ordinary breath has ceased, true breath arises of itself. Ordinary breath ceases not because one deliberately holds the breath, but because the mind has reached the utmost emptiness and stillness: thoughts become extremely fine, and the breath grows faint along with them. Those who speak of regulating the breath (tiaoxi) today often know only how to adjust the respiration, yet fail to notice that they have fallen into the fault of “using the mind to chase the breath.” The minds of ordinary people are hasty, and in daily life they have never been trained; if one suddenly requires thought to follow the breath, how can the mind follow of its own accord? Deliberate effort is hard to avoid. The moment the mind exerts itself, the breath has not yet settled and the mind has already stirred—is this not again using the breath to hold Shen (spirit) in check?

Thus I say: “To regulate the breath is to let the mind stay naturally with the breath; it is not to chase the breath.” Breath regulation must begin with regulating the mind (tiaoxin). To regulate the mind is to gather in stray thoughts so that the mind returns to quiet. Whether one is walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, the mind abides within the body. Practiced over a long time, this gradually ripens; habit becomes second nature, and body and mind grow clear, still, and gentle, coming into accord with the breath. Once they are in accord, mind and breath rely upon each other—but only in mutual accompaniment, not in pursuit. Ordinary breath then ceases of itself, and true breath arises of itself. At this point it is as if a bellows were pumping: Jing (essence) is refined and transformed into Qi (vital energy), and the nurturing Qi rises and pours into the Three Palaces—the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (energy centers) spoken of in Daoist internal cultivation. This is what is called the true bellows (tuoyue), the cauldron and furnace (dinglu, the body and mind in which cultivation is carried on), and the firing process (huohou, the timing and degree of internal refinement).

“To take true breath as the fire—what is there to say of this?”

Answer: When ordinary breath ceases of itself, true breath arises of itself. True breath, like a bellows at work, refines Jing into Qi, and the nurturing Qi rises and pours into the Three Palaces. This is the true bellows, cauldron and furnace, and firing process.

Someone asked, “Is there such a saying?” There is indeed. Ancient immortals said many similar things: “Do not merely tend the medicine furnace and watch the timing of the fire (huohou); simply settle the mind and Shen (spirit), and let the breath follow its natural course. There is no need to laboriously drive the elixir furnace and the river chariot (a metaphor, in the practice of Neidan [internal alchemy], for circulating Jing [essence] and Qi [vital energy]); the crane’s embryonic nurturing and the turtle’s breath (a state like the crane brooding embryonic breathing and the turtle breathing long and deep) will of themselves continue without end.”

These words, however, do not mean that breath itself is fire. Here “fire” refers to spirit-fire, that is, the working of the mind and Shen; “breath” is like the bellows and the key of the fire, the condition that assists the fire in its operation. When the mind and Shen keep to the dynamic of Qi, the mind and Shen do not act deliberately, yet the dynamic of Qi still moves of itself: opening and closing, circulating up and down along the channels. Who perceives that the dynamic of Qi is in motion? It is the mind and Shen. When the breath circulates, the Yuanshen (primordial spirit, the original mind and Shen) can perceive it clearly; Shen and Qi fuse with one another and are regulated to a fitting measure of tension and ease. Only this counts as an even timing of the fire, and one thereby reaches the state in which the elixir is formed and the medicine accomplished.

I once compared true breath (the long and natural breathing of cultivation) to a bellows, and I consider the comparison sound. In the smelting of metal, the artisan must first work the bellows to fan the air; only then does the fire grow strong and the metal melt. If one blows with nothing but a forceful and scattered wind, the fire becomes diffuse, and in the end the metal cannot be melted. Why is this so? A forceful, scattered wind comes and goes without constancy, like the breath of ordinary people, which passes in and out through the throat; the wind of the bellows continues long and unbroken, like what perfected persons (zhenren) call “heel breathing” (zhongxi, the saying that the breath is long and deep, as if issuing from the heels). The mind and Shen follow the breath and interpenetrate with it, just as fire receives the aid of wind; Qi, regulated by the mind and Shen, transforms of itself, just as metal melts in the fire. Explained in this way, the meaning is quite clear.

Someone asked further, “The advance and retreat of the fire tally (huofu), and ‘morning Zhun, evening Meng’ (zhaotun mumeng)—are their meanings the same or different?”

Before I received a teacher’s guidance, I always found the firing process hard to understand. I once tried to calculate it by dividing the double-hours and the marks of the water clock according to the cycles of the celestial circuit and the regular patterns of change in hexagram Qi (vital energy), but it was only wasted effort. Only later did I suddenly see clearly: although the alchemical Jing (scriptures) run to ten thousand scrolls, and although the records concerning the firing process run to six hundred items, one may hear a single sentence at the crucial point and then set the rest aside. The saying “true fire has no fixed timing, and the great medicine is not reckoned in catties” is indeed correct, and it has not deceived me in the least.

The refining of the medicine is divided into internal refining and external refining, and so the firing process likewise differs in whether it is complex or simple. Internal refining, summed up in a single sentence, is “to preserve it continuously and without interruption, as if it were present and as if it were absent.” The “outer medicine” spoken of here is not the kind of outer medicine mentioned earlier; it refers instead to methods of refining and nourishing such as the celestial primordial and the terrestrial primordial.

“Fu” means accord with the Dao (the Way) of Heaven. Alchemical methods use geng and jia in the moon’s course as figures for changes in the degree to which the medicinal materials have matured, and they use the zi hour and the wu hour of a single day as figures for the waxing and waning of the firing process. What is called “Zhun in the morning and Meng in the evening” only means that advance and retreat follow a definite rule, just as the hexagram images indicate. Once the meaning has been grasped, one need not cling to the outward forms.

The Wuzhen pian says: “The inner medicine and the outer medicine communicate, and inner and outer must both be connected through. When the elixir base is harmonized, the two are of a kind; in gentle nurturing, each has its own function. Within, true fire is present by nature, and the furnace is constantly bright and fiercely hot. The increase and decrease of the fire in the outer furnace call for diligent effort; the most marvelous crux is nothing other than obtaining the true seed.” The “true seed” here refers to the human primordial, that is, the alchemical method that takes the human being as its root. This passage may serve as a basis for understanding the method of the fire tally.

On Medicine and Fire

“Are the medicine and the fire the same, or are they different?”

Someone said: “Medicine and fire may be discussed either separately or together. When treated separately, they are different; when taken together, they are the same. Why is this so? Spoken of separately, ‘medicine’ refers to pre-heaven Qi (vital energy), and ‘fire’ refers to pre-heaven Shen (spirit); spoken of together, medicine is fire, and fire is likewise medicine.

If one knows only how to speak of them together and does not know how to distinguish them, the method of gathering the medicine will be unclear; if one knows only how to distinguish them and does not know how to speak of them together, there is no way to grasp the method of warm nurturing. Why? When the medicine is gathered, the medicine is outside and the fire is inside, and one must use the fire to draw the medicine in; therefore medicine and fire may be explained separately. When it comes to warm nurturing, the medicine returns from outside into the body, and only after the medicine has been obtained does one apply the fire; therefore medicine and fire may be spoken of together.

In general, fire plays the leading role: if the fire is too urgent, the elixir will be damaged; if the fire is too cold, the elixir will disperse. To speak only of fire and not of medicine refers to the ten-month process of warm nurturing; to speak only of medicine and not of fire refers to the brief work, in a moment, of gathering the medicine. As for what Immortal Master Ziqing (a Daoist perfected immortal) said—‘refining medicine with fire so as to form the elixir’—it means governing Qi by means of Shen and thereby cultivating and completing the Great Dao (the Way), and the meaning is stated all the more clearly and precisely.”

On Extraction and Addition

Someone asked: “May the essentials of extracting lead and adding mercury be explained to me?”

I have heard that Master Liyang, a practitioner in the Daoist tradition, after gathering the medicinal substances into the cauldron and furnace, warms and nurtures them with the natural true fire, so that the process continues unbroken, seeming at once to be and not to be. Throughout, the extracting, adding, and transformation of the substances all arise of themselves; not the slightest human ingenuity or force may be introduced.

The Dao (the Way) is originally Wuwei (non-action), yet Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) circulate and transform of themselves. This is precisely the subtle, unceasing working of creation. The saying “like cooking rice into a meal” carries a deep meaning; it is not used merely to suggest that the matter is easy. Casting lead into mercury is like pouring water into rice: the water must not be too much, nor the rice too little, the two being matched in a proportion of two to eight. When the firing is kept even, the moisture gradually steams away, the grains gradually fill out, and the meal is cooked. The lessening of the moisture is called “extracting lead”; the filling out of the grains is called “adding mercury.”

What is called “extracting” does not mean taking away something within, but letting Shen enter into Qi, just as the Qi of Heaven moves through Earth, the latent mechanism transforming without showing itself. What is called “adding” is likewise not bringing in anything from outside, but Qi enfolding Shen, just as the Qi of Earth receives the Qi of Heaven and is gradually nourished. Cultivated in this way, one can form a perfected Neidan (internal alchemy), bring about a transformation of Shen, and reach the state of “a body beyond the body.” This is the marvel of creation.

All of this happens of itself, and one does not know why it is so. If one insists on asking how to extract and how to add, one is acting with deliberate human intention, and it is no longer natural. What is called “natural” also has a profound meaning. My teacher said to me, “To accord with the natural is not to leave things to develop however they will.” How deep these words are!

Yiyan lun (Discourse on Bequeathed Words)

Someone asked: “In the various elixir scriptures one finds such names as red lead, black mercury, the Green Dragon, the White Tiger, white snow, the yellow sprout, the Wood Duke, the Metal Mother, the infant and the maiden, the Yellow Dame, and others—alternate names and designations too many to count. Now, in your writing, you set all these names aside and do not discuss them. Are you deliberately leaving something unsaid?”

It is not so. Quiet your mind and listen; I will try to explain it to you. Formerly I was only a Confucian scholar who studied chapters and verses. Although I had inquired into profound principles, I had never grasped the fundamental wisdom of the great Dao (the Way). Later I chanced upon an opportunity and received the true methods of the Dao, and so I gradually came to understand the essential approach to cultivating the Dao.

The terms and meanings spoken of earlier were all things I had once read carefully and pondered again and again. Yet I would grasp one thing while overlooking another, and this only created obstacles to understanding. Only now do I realize that the great Dao is not complicated; a single sentence can say it all: the Dao is nothing other than Yin-Yang. Yin transforms into Jing (essence), Yang transforms into Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) presides over Jing and Qi. Thus Shen, Qi, and Jing are the three kinds of superior medicine. The various names in the ancient books—dragon and tiger, lead and mercury, and the like—are all established on the basis of these three.

The immortals of antiquity left their teachings, yet they were unwilling to reveal them lightly. Therefore they wrote in language that was roundabout and hard to understand, and they divided the teaching into many approaches, so that those intent on learning might apprehend the meaning from the words, and then draw the simple root out of the multitude of explanations. When a cultivator has accumulated practice over a long time and suddenly attains thorough understanding, he can cast off the constraints imposed by written words and see the root directly.

Someone asked: “Most of what the Xuanfu Lun sets forth concerns the external medicine. As for gathering the medicine, intercourse, and such matters, it scarcely mentions them at all. How should those who study the Dao speak of these?”

Someone asked about the Dao (the Way): “The method of gathering through intercourse (caiqu jiaogou, a Neidan [internal alchemy] term for practices that unite Yin and Yang and gather and refine Jing [essence] and Qi [vital energy]) is a profound and subtle teaching that Taishang (a title for a revered Daoist deity) kept secret and would not disclose, and it is also the essential point transmitted from mind to mind by sages through the ages. It is not that I am unwilling to set it out plainly; my teacher’s charge was simply most severe, so that each time I take up the brush I do so with fear and trembling.

Even so, I feel that what was discussed earlier seems already to have given the secret away. It is only hidden in reserved and subtle wording, and the reader has not noticed. The Qi (here referring to the relevant classic) says: ‘Recite it over and over a thousand times, and the sense of the text will become clear; read it ten thousand times, and the true meaning will appear.’ Those who aspire to study the Dao, if they can read it a thousand or ten thousand times and examine it deeply, will find its fine principles coming to light of themselves.

Yet without that urgent feeling of seeking arduously and still not having understood, how could one know that the great Dao is hard to hear of? Without an aspiration able to meet it in mutual accord and to grasp the meaning within, how could one appreciate the savor of these words of mine? Enough, enough—I shall still hold my tongue and say no more.”