《碧苑坛经》

The Scripture of the Jade Garden Altar

Explained by Kunyangzi Wang Changyue, a respected Daoist of the Qing dynasty, preacher of the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) school, and seventh-generation disciple in the Longmen lineage to receive its precepts.

Compiled by Shi Shouping, an eighth-generation disciple who received the precepts, and revised by Min Yide, an eleventh-generation descendant of the lineage.

Preface

The True Words of the Mind-Dharma

On an auspicious day in the tenth lunar month of 1663, the second year of the Kangxi reign, Kunyangzi transmitted the precepts at the Jade Garden in Jinling, present-day Nanjing. He said to Ningzhenzi Shao Shoushan and Fuyaozi Zhan Shouchun:

“Since childhood, I have admired the Great Dao. Seeing through life’s illusions and the ever-changing turns of worldly fortune, I wished to escape the cycle of rebirth and cultivate the Supreme Way without delay. Yet Mount Kongtong, though not far away, did not bring me face to face with Guang Chengzi; and though the immortal isle of Penglai was not beyond reach, how could a mortal body ever get there?

Cultivating the Dao requires withdrawing from the contamination of the mundane world, sweeping the dust from the heart, and cleansing the mind until one’s purpose is clear and pure. One must dispel long-standing habits, letting worldly distractions vanish like ashes; restrain the body’s desires and sever the roots of delusion. To bring all attachments to an immediate halt, one must begin with keeping the precepts and entering stillness, then cultivate step by step. To let every thought settle into emptiness and quiet, one must examine things layer by layer through wisdom. By letting go, the mind can be stilled; by seeing clearly, one can endure. So rouse your spirit and take up the blade that cuts through attachment. Step forward and board the Dharma vessel that carries all beings to liberation. Turn around, and you can leave the cycle of rebirth; change your thoughts, and you can break free of the net that binds you.

Compassion must never fade. The ancients taught that we should liberate ourselves and help others to be liberated. Keep your compassionate wish alive: I hope for my own liberation, and I hope for the liberation of all beings.”

“I remember that in years past, while seeking the true Dao, I visited Mount Wangwu and had the good fortune to meet a wise teacher. Through the boundless grace of the Three Treasures—the Dao, the scripture, and the teacher—I personally heard the teachings of the Dao. Relying on my own strength, I worked diligently to cultivate and temper my body and mind. I took refuge in the supreme Dharma King and followed the wondrous Mahayana Way. Now I have come upon an age of peace and prosperity, with life calm and secure—a rare opportunity, scarcely encountered across ten thousand kalpas or in a thousand lifetimes. How could I fail to proclaim the Three Treasures and repay the Four Graces? I can only hope to offer what little I can and modestly express what I have come to understand.”

Therefore, I do not forget my past fault of overstepping my place and speaking recklessly, yet I continue to open the altar and teach the precepts. Nor do I avoid others’ mockery and slander; I continue to teach the doctrines and interpret the scriptures. I do this not to gain a reputation for good deeds, but only to dispel false teachings and resolve doubts. The laws of Heaven forbid empty, flamboyant words; the highest truth lies in speaking plainly. I respectfully share with everyone the family tradition of the seventh generation of the Longmen lineage, and record these heartfelt, candid words in the hope of benefiting all in the human and celestial realms. I would not dare write an embellished text—why not speak plainly? I now pass these teachings on to you precisely to guide the ignorant and confused, and to clarify the true Dharma.

As for those of superior spiritual capacity and clear insight, I, a poor Daoist, am content to take the lower place. I would gladly ask them to offer their compassionate instruction, so that I may verify what I have heard. This, too, is my heartfelt wish.

After hearing the teachings, the disciples bowed, withdrew, and took their places in rows on the east and west sides.

At that moment, the Guangling disciple Shi Shouping bowed and recited: “The Dharma has no fixed form; it appears through the movement of the mind. The mind is originally without mind, so the Dharma returns to emptiness. When the mind appears, the mind of the Dharma King—a reverent title for one who embodies the Great Dao—and its many forms appear as well. When the Dharma returns to the mind’s master, it too returns to emptiness. To understand that fixed Dharma is not a perfect, unchanging form, one must realize that the ordinary person’s mind is also the sage’s mind. Mind and Dharma, Dharma and mind, are mutually identical. Those who harmonize mind and Dharma and attain freedom are true kindred spirits.”

II. Taking Refuge in the Three Treasures (the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha).

The “Three Treasures” are the Treasure of the Dao, the Treasure of the scriptures, and the Treasure of the teachers. The Dao’s essential nature is like empty space: it has neither form nor name. Without scriptures, the Dao cannot be explained. Its principles are contained within the scriptures, deep and subtle; without a teacher’s guidance, they are difficult to understand. Without taking refuge in the Three Treasures, one may fall into deviant paths and become lost in confusion and delusion.

Those who cultivate the truth and learn the Dao should regard taking refuge with sincere hearts as a rare opportunity. First, take refuge in the supreme Treasure of the Dao, and wish that all beings may always be in the presence of the Heavenly Worthies and be freed from the cycle of rebirth forever. Second, take refuge in the supreme Treasure of the scriptures, and wish that all beings may hear the true teachings in every lifetime. Third, take refuge in the supreme Treasure of the teachers, and wish that all beings may learn the highest Daoist teachings and avoid falling into deviant views.

These Three Refuges—taking refuge in the Three Treasures of the Dao, the scriptures, and the master—are the first step by which the sages of antiquity led people onto the Dao, and the first threshold on the path of cultivating De. Whether one seeks immortality and attainment of the Dao or aspires to become a sage, the journey begins with the Three Refuges.

Why do I say this? The nature of life and the matter of life and death are of great importance, yet the causes and conditions involved are subtle and profound, not easily seen with one’s own eyes or heard with one’s own ears. Without a wise master’s compassionate guidance to awaken the spirit, how could anyone suddenly grasp the true teaching of the Great Vehicle, gradually enter the wondrous Dao of emptiness, and avoid falling into wrong views or straying onto heterodox paths? Therefore, those who do not yet understand the principles should first take refuge in the scriptures; those who do not yet understand the meaning of the scriptures should first take refuge in a master. By taking refuge in the Treasure of the Master, one can understand the Treasure of the Scriptures in places where one could not hear it before. Once one understands the Treasure of the Scriptures, one can experience the Treasure of the Dao in places where one could not see it before. When principles that were once beyond sight and hearing suddenly become clear, this is all brought about by taking refuge in the Treasure of the Master. From there, one can naturally understand the true scriptures, comprehend the orthodox teaching, transcend life and death, and no longer fall into the cycle of rebirth.

The method of the Three Refuges I speak of, however, must be taking refuge in the true Three Treasures. Why? Everyone, people today treat the Three Refuges as something routine: they recite and bow before an image of a deity morning and evening, without truly understanding the fundamental meaning and purpose of taking refuge. As a result, they remain deluded by heterodox teachings and cannot escape the cycle of rebirth. How, then, could they understand the Great Dao and free themselves from life and death?

[Note by Xie: The two passages above discuss matters at the level of doctrine.]

The text’s phrase “taking refuge in the Three Treasures” means setting intention, mind, and body each in its proper place and returning them to the right path. Taking refuge with intention means keeping thoughts from following arising and passing away into deluded activity, so that one can understand the “Treasure of the Dao” (the Great Dao). Taking refuge with the mind means allowing inner responsiveness and its workings to proceed without obstruction, so that one can grasp the principles conveyed by the “Treasure of the Scripture.” Taking refuge with the body means not coveting what the eyes see, the ears hear, the nose smells, or the tongue tastes; not moving the hands and feet recklessly; avoiding impure thoughts of sexual misconduct; and diligently cultivating and refining body and mind. In this way, one can become attuned to the “Treasure of the Master”—the lineage of teachers who transmit the Dao.

In the Xie commentary, taking refuge with intention, mind, and body already refers to practical methods of cultivation. The initial work of the Elixir Dao (Neidan, internal alchemy) is to set the intention straight, clarify the mind and spirit, and settle the body. Practitioners should pay particular attention to whether the “source of water” is clear or turbid: when the body does not move recklessly, Jing and Qi remain clear; when the heart’s fire is clear and upright, Jing and Qi also become clear. When body and mind are settled, laying the foundation for cultivation becomes easier. Once all Three Treasures have been brought into alignment, practice can gradually deepen.

Those who truly receive a teacher’s compassion and are taught the scriptures and methods of the Dao must first bring their body, mind, and intention back to the right path. These are the Three Treasures within oneself. If the ears and eyes remain attached to what they hear and see, then one is either infatuated with external things or attached to emptiness. In either case, one is still bound by sound and form, and the body has not yet become truly quiet. Without quietude, it is difficult to become attuned to the master’s teaching of the Dao. To take refuge in the Three Treasures means to keep one’s conduct upright, cultivate one’s nature, seek the root, and bring one’s thoughts into accord with the constant Dao, while maintaining a mind that is open, clear, and settled at all times.

Xie further says that taking refuge in the Three Treasures is an advanced practice of the Celestial Immortals. In essence, it means keeping the body upright, making the mind open and clear, and holding the intention with sincerity and focus. The cultivation described throughout the text is not divided into fixed stages, yet it naturally deepens layer by layer. By avoiding sexual misconduct in the body, one becomes attuned to the Treasure of the Master; by keeping the mind clear and undimmed, one can understand the Treasure of the Scripture; by keeping the intention focused and undistracted, one can understand the Treasure of the Dao. A focused intention is one that is utterly sincere and unbroken.

When the body is steady, Jing and Qi are abundant and the physique grows strong. When the mind and spirit are clear, the breath becomes pure and balanced, and wisdom opens fully. When the intention is sincere, the spirit gathers and one’s original nature becomes manifest. Once Jing and Qi are abundant, the transformations of the spirit and awareness become profound and unfathomable. All of this comes from bringing one’s own Three Treasures—body, mind, and intention—into proper order; through them, the Three Treasures of the Dao, Scripture, and Master also become manifest.

Next, I will explain how to take refuge in the Three Treasures of body, mind, and intention. Everyone, listen attentively and carefully as I explain the way to take refuge in these Three Treasures, so that you may dispel ignorance and resolve your doubts.

The body is formed from the father’s semen and the mother’s blood, and gradually takes shape in the womb. A person’s temperament, appearance, and limbs all develop from this. The body is merely a mass of impurity, a skin bag made up of the four elements: earth, water, fire, and wind. The eyes can see, the ears can hear, the feet can walk, the hands can move, the mouth can speak, and the tongue can taste. None of these is lasting or worthy of reliance.

Use the body well, and you can cultivate into an immortal or a Buddha and become a sage. Use it poorly, and you may become a demon or monster, or fall into the realms of ghosts or animals. Cultivate goodness, and you can ascend to heaven; follow evil paths, and you will fall into hell. Those who enjoy the rewards of good fortune treat the body as a means for cultivation, while those who suffer the results of evil deeds treat it as the source of wrongdoing. Since you have already left household life and seek to transcend birth and death, you should all the more take refuge and discipline yourselves. Otherwise, the six senses—eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—will chase after external things, and the three poisons of greed, anger, and delusion will arise within. All manner of calamities and demonic obstacles will follow. How, then, could you cultivate the Dao and enter its path?

There is only one way to take refuge and discipline the body: observe the precepts and bring the unruly body and mind under control. Let the four everyday postures—walking, standing, sitting, and lying down—serve as your standard, and keep your conduct dignified and measured. Do not let the ears chase after sounds or the eyes greedily fix on external things. Make your appearance solemn and your expression composed and compassionate, so that others feel joy and respect when they see you. The precepts restrain the unruly body and make it a vessel for cultivating the Dao. In this way, you can take refuge in the Treasure of the Teacher, making your teacher a precious source of support in cultivation. Everyone, this first part is now clear. Next, you must take refuge in the mind.

Everyone, this mind is unlike the body. It is treacherous and changeable, difficult to fathom, like a violent gale rising over the sea. The waters are unfathomably deep, the wind fierce, and the waves surge and shift without warning, leaving us nothing to rely on. People pass through countless kalpas as though the day they might escape their plight will never come; the sea of suffering has no end.

If you now wish to take refuge in this mind and make it the foundation of your cultivation, you must understand that it is formed from flesh and blood, and is neither lasting nor benevolent. It craves sensual pleasures and does not fear breaking the law and incurring punishment. It lusts after delicious food, heedless of the possibility of losing its life. Even if it sinks into the realms of hungry ghosts or animals, or is sent up a mountain of knives or plunged into burning coals, it knows no fear or caution. Even when it brings plague and illness upon itself, or causes stars to fall and mountains to collapse, it refuses to turn back. Every kind of calamity is summoned and set in motion by this mind.

The six thieves—the six sensory desires that disturb body and mind—serve as its vanguard, while the seven emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, aversion, and desire—command its forces. If you seek to cultivate the Way but do not first set this mind straight and bring it under control, how can you subdue demons and strange beings, remove the seven obstructions and false delusions, grasp the fundamental mystery, understand the true teachings, investigate the central doctrine, and reach the highest stage?

Yet to subdue this mind, one must cultivate in accordance with the precepts, gather in the spirit, and enter stillness, as if reining in a runaway horse and gripping the reins firmly, calming contrary winds and extinguishing flames. When the fire of ignorance in the mind—afflictions arising from delusion and confusion—begins to blaze, use patience to restrain it. Transform its fierce flames into the wind of wisdom, and turn ignorance into great wisdom. Let harmful causes become wholesome results, and sorrow and resentment turn to joy. Regard attachment to sights and sounds as floating dust, and turn negligence into reverence. Do not let dullness and defilement arise, nor cling to distinctions between right and wrong. Do not let thoughts of what should be cast aside or retained contend with one another, and do not be swept along by cycles of rise and fall, changing gains and losses, or restless instability. In this way, the breath will naturally grow steady and the mind peaceful. Once the mind is calm and the breath settled, one can take refuge in the Treasure of the Scriptures—that is, the teachings they contain.

Everyone, since you have already used the power of stillness to gather in and subdue this unruly, unsettled mind, stirred by the fleshly body, the winds within will become calm. It will be like the bright moon rising over still water, as the mind’s pearl shines with light. From this, wisdom can penetrate the meaning of the scriptures, and discernment can grasp their principles.

One must also take refuge in the “intention,” bringing one’s thoughts back to the right path. The intention is harder to discipline than the heart: the heart must be upright, while the intention must be sincere. Here, “sincerity” means being careful and attentive to every detail. Once the intention is settled, one’s inner awareness becomes thorough and precise, and perception grows clear and bright, leaving even the smallest things unobscured. It remains single and undivided, continuous without interruption, and equally steady in movement and stillness, its light shining everywhere.

Therefore, if the intention has not yet returned to what is right, one must remain on guard even when the heart seems quiet. The heart may secretly manipulate matters and devise clever schemes, giving rise to deceit. Thoughts may become strange and changeable, coming and going, endlessly contrived, arising and vanishing like churning waves. Their transformations are hard to predict; like dragons and tigers, they are difficult to grasp, like shadows and wind. They may seem tangible, yet in truth they leave no form or trace. When subtle scheming takes hold, its force can be like a crossbow bolt weighing a thousand jun: a thought as small as a drop of water can move a great ship. It plots and calculates in secret, changing without warning, as though it could steal the sky and replace the sun, deploying endless deceptions.

Once the intention returns to sincerity, such thoughts dissolve like water melting a clay vessel, and all things seem to come back to life. In this way one may enter the ranks of the sages, realize the Dao, and ascend to immortality. In the world, one may teach and transform the people, bring order to the state and peace to its people, ensure favorable seasons and abundant harvests, and bring forth such qualities as loyalty, filial devotion, moral integrity, humility, incorruptibility, steadfastness, and purity. The Three Bonds and Five Relationships—the traditional ethical bonds and norms of society—as well as the Nine Schools and Three Teachings—the various schools of thought and the teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—all arise from a sincere intention. Whether one is sincere determines fortune or misfortune, auspiciousness or calamity, and smoothness or hardship; it also bears on the conditions of one’s life and destiny, and the karmic consequences of reincarnation.

Everyone, if you do not set your intention right, your heart will be difficult to settle. If you wish to settle the heart, the key still lies in whether your intention is sincere.

Practitioners, if you do not take refuge in and follow this “intention,” it will be difficult for the mind to settle. To calm the mind, you should take refuge in this intention. The light of wisdom will naturally shine clear, and once awakened, you will understand one principle after another. Before a thought arises, the inner mind is still and clear. As soon as a thought appears, it may be right or wrong. So long as you do not let your numinous nature grow dim, changes in thought are like a pivot setting mechanisms in motion, or the stars revolving around the Northern Dipper. When intention is sincere, you can grasp the key to life and death. If it is insincere, who can control the fate of rebirth?

Practitioners, each person carries an “intention treasure”—the inner power of the mind. With a single thought that is pure and true, one can reach upward to the heavens and communicate downward with the unseen realms. Ghosts and spirits are thereby dismayed; the sun and moon lose their radiance; the transformations of Heaven and Earth lose their governing force; Yin and Yang lose their regular order; demons and monsters go into hiding; and people and things disappear. Within and beyond the Three Realms—the Desire Realm, the Form Realm, and the Formless Realm—only intention is supreme. When it opens out, it appears; when it draws inward, it vanishes. Whatever its transformations, this mind and intention freely governs them.

When this mind and intention faces upward in reverence to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, it is ancestral Qi. When it settles in the center and returns to the Celestial Worthy of Numinous Treasure, it is Brahma Qi. When it follows Laozi, the Most High Lord, it is true Qi. When it expands without limit, it is vast Qi. When it gathers in calm and harmony, it is primordial Qi. When it is compassionate and benevolent, it is Yang Qi. When it grieves, grows angry, and carries out punishment, it is Yin Qi. When it is greedy, resentful, impatient, or violent, it is blood Qi. When it is licentious, murderous, thieving, or deceitful, it is malign Qi. When it clings stubbornly and remains obscured and unresponsive, it is demonic Qi. When it is savage and benighted, it is monstrous Qi. When it is harsh and severe, causing others to suffer injustice, it is resentful Qi. All these expressions of Qi arise from your own mind and intention.

If the body does not take refuge in the Treasure of the Teacher—the teacher’s lineage and teachings—it is prone to excess and becomes fierce and unruly. If the inner mind does not take refuge in the Treasure of the Jing—the teachings of the scriptures—it is prone to dullness and confusion. If mind and intention do not take refuge in the Treasure of the Dao, they become scattered and changeable. When mind and intention are crooked and insincere, they lose their centered integrity. Without that centered integrity, the light of wisdom cannot arise; meditative stability is weak, observance of the precepts is lax, spirit cannot gather, Qi cannot accumulate, and Jing cannot be transformed. As a result, the body cannot be cultivated, the inner mind cannot be calmed, and mind and intention cannot be made sincere.

Everyone gathered here, I will now explain the Great Dao and point directly to the human heart. If you do not promptly subdue the body, mind, and thoughts, transforming them into true embodiments of the Three Treasures (Sanbao)—the Dao, the scriptures, and the master—and thereby transcend the cycle of rebirth, then you should take refuge, one by one, in the worldly Three Treasures of the Dao, the scriptures, and the master, as recognized by those who awakened and understood before you. Only then will you honor the fortunate conditions that led you to leave home and cultivate the Dao.

If someone can cultivate according to the three great methods of precepts, concentration, and wisdom, with firm conviction that neither wavers nor falters, you should know that such a person will surely attain the Dao. If someone strays even slightly, fails to practice as taught, and grows lax, you should know that this person has heavy karmic burdens and scant blessings, and cannot understand the Great Dao. Even the heavenly spirits will not accept them. How, then, could they hear the supreme, most true, pure, and liberating Dao? When you encounter such people, do not become angry or scold them. Instead, hold compassion in your heart, patiently use fitting methods, and guide them toward the Dao with kindness. This is called taking refuge in the Three Treasures.

Then the disciples who had received the precepts bowed their heads in homage and took refuge, reciting: “The Great Dao is empty and clear, beyond the power of words to name. Only because the scriptures are subtle and wondrous were they set down in writing. Without a master to explain the profound principles of the source, how could the confused and ignorant understand? Those who understand the Great Dao pass it down from generation to generation; this is called Quanzhen (Complete Perfection). By fully preserving one’s true nature, one can escape birth and death. Those who awakened and understood before us are profoundly compassionate; countless worthy people guide others into the Dao.”

III. Repenting for Karmic Offenses

Everyone gathered here, now that you have taken refuge in the Three Treasures, you must follow their subtle and wondrous practices. The Most High says, “…”

Now that you have taken refuge in the Three Treasures—the Dao, the scriptures, and the master—you must cultivate in accordance with the proper Way. The Most High says, “Misfortune and good fortune have no fixed gate; people bring them upon themselves. The consequences of good and evil follow a person like a shadow follows the body.” Thus, among Heaven and Earth are spirits who keep records of people’s transgressions. They shorten a person’s life according to the gravity of each offense. Even the smallest transgressions number in the hundreds. Anyone who wishes to attain longevity must first avoid them.

What is called karmic wrongdoing is simply misconduct. Some practitioners today obscure their conscience and deceive their own nature: they see only the faults of others and do not know where they themselves have gone wrong. To remain unaware even of one’s own transgressions is already a grave burden of wrongdoing. How can anyone enter the Dao while deceiving their own heart? Therefore, repentance is essential. To repent is to face the sages and perfected beings with reverence, conceal none of one’s past transgressions, and solemnly vow never to commit them again. Only then can one continue to make progress in cultivation.

I am speaking plainly and critically now because I want to make clear the ways people deceive themselves and others in this world. Listen carefully, and you will understand.

What does it mean to deceive oneself and others? It means speaking in lofty, respectable terms while inwardly coveting wealth and possessions; appearing upright while secretly scheming and seeking personal gain. It means accepting precepts but failing to observe them, urging others to follow the rules while being unafraid of criticism oneself; appearing outwardly to be a Daoist practitioner while secretly associating with disreputable people; speaking fluently about what is right while covering up one’s own mistakes in public affairs; hearing the Dao but failing to put it into practice, knowing the law yet deliberately breaking it; using petty cleverness to cheat the foolish and treating taking advantage of others as a way to profit.

Such people are often ruled by anger and other afflictions, and readily become stubborn and domineering. They call what is absent present and what is present absent; pass off falsehood as truth and truth as falsehood; call a deer a horse, or sell dog meat under a sheep’s head. They secretly do wrong while putting on an act in public; they plot to harm others while wearing a smile. All their crooked conduct departs from the right way, and most of the time they know what they are doing. Those who do not realize their conduct is wrong are deluded fools; those who knowingly do wrong are deceitful, wicked, and cunning petty people.

Is this not deceiving oneself and others? The wrongdoing of those who knowingly break the rules is graver than that of the deluded and foolish. Why? The ignorant lack wisdom and often err through not knowing; they mainly harm themselves, and even when they harm others, that harm will eventually rebound upon them. The wicked, by contrast, are sinister and cunning: they harm others for their own benefit, deceive their own conscience, and delude themselves into thinking that Heaven, Earth, and the spirits will never learn of their misdeeds. They devise elaborate schemes and continually cover their tracks; they plot carefully in secret, then go to great lengths to mend and conceal what they have done. They lay traps for people without letting them discover where the traps came from; they push people into wells without letting them guess who dug them. Such people do exist in the world, but practitioners must never act this way.

If you once held such thoughts before taking refuge in the Three Jewels—the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha—now that you have received the precepts, you should reform yourself and sincerely repent without delay.

In recent times, Daoism has declined. Observance of its precepts has slackened, its teaching has gradually waned, and some Daoist priests have lost the guidance they ought to provide. Among the disciples who receive instruction in the Daoist tradition, many violate its rules and precepts. I do not tire of urging you again and again, and I especially admonish everyone: you must repent not only the sinful deeds that have caused you to sink into suffering throughout your past lives, but also the sins of your parents in many lifetimes, and the sins of your parents in this life and of the Nine Generations of Ancestors and Seven Forebears—a term for distant ancestors and those who came before us in every generation. As for the sins you yourself committed in the past, promptly examine them in your heart, in private, and cleanse them completely.

For every improper deluded thought, even the slightest wandering thought, you must repent past failings and correct past mistakes. Only then can you hope to realize the Dao. Otherwise, you deceive yourself like someone covering his ears while stealing a bell. How could you ever attain liberation? You would only drift farther and farther from the Great Dao.

I now set down a text of repentance for everyone to recite each morning and evening.

Repentance and Vow Text

We disciples, from the time we received the precepts until now, have often sought only the empty prestige of having received them and have failed to keep them in earnest. Our clothing does not conform to the rules, and our ritual implements are merely in name, without any true transmission. We neither practiced diligently when we first entered the Way nor refrained from repeated grave offenses.

Lacking wisdom in our hearts, we cannot sincerely seek guidance from enlightened masters. When ignorance—the mind’s clouded and confused thoughts—takes hold, it is hard for us to be patient and humble with our fellow disciples. Narrow-minded, we cannot tolerate others; our thoughts stray from the proper path, so we often do wrong. We do not understand true awakening and take illusion for reality. We fail to investigate how matters came about, and instead regard those who harm us as close companions. We mistake the worthy for the wicked, turning right and wrong upside down; we see gentlemen as petty people and cannot tell right from wrong.

Some who solicit charitable offerings distort cause and effect, privately keeping all the donated money and grain for themselves. Some recite scriptures but misread the words and phrases, paying no attention at all. At the sight of beauty before them, lustful thoughts arise; when they hear the teachings of sages and worthies, their hearts fill with doubt. Such corrupt conduct will keep people sunk in the ordinary world forever. If we do not mend our ways from this day forward, then when we are at our wits’ end in the future, we will surely sink to the bottom of the sea like stones. If we continue to act recklessly, we will understand only when the temple bell falls silent and the water clock runs dry—a metaphor for life’s end—that after death we will face the bitter retribution of forests of swords and mountains of blades.

Therefore, we now make offerings of the incense, lamp, and water of the heart—visualizing these offerings with reverence—and devote ourselves wholeheartedly to taking refuge in body, spirit, and life. We pray fervently at all times, looking up to the high heavens where the immortals dwell to entrust our nature and life to their care. Morning and night, we persevere in devotion, looking up to the Golden Palaces of Heaven to express our loyalty. We show our reverence through fasting and ritual bathing, undaunted by hardship and toil. Now we turn back once more and again beseech our teachers for their compassion.

We set out the offerings and pray with sorrowful urgency.

May Heaven show mercy, enabling people from now on to cast off all evil deeds completely and remain virtuous forever. From this day forward, may they strive in cultivation, follow the true Dao, and faithfully uphold the precepts they received upon entering the Dao. If they again violate those former precepts, may they suffer Heaven’s punishment in life and descend after death to Fengdu, the underworld of Daoist tradition. If they break the rules they previously vowed to observe, may they face severe punishment in the world of the living and fall into the Avici Hell in the underworld.

May repentance bring an end to karmic offenses and an increase in blessings; may disasters disperse and hardships be relieved. May the heart grow clear as melting ice and snow, and the light of wisdom shine forth again. May the darkened chamber become bright once more, and the sun of wisdom illuminate the night. May wholesome thoughts take root and flourish, as sweet dew nourishes withered branches. May the Heavenly Dao grant the grace of renewal, and may the Dharma rain fall far and wide, nourishing all things anew. May records of punishment be erased and names entered in the registers of the immortals. May diligent cultivation lead to profound stillness and preserve the steadfast True Body. May each of the Eight Consciousnesses diminish, and may the myriad obstacles and countless demonic disturbances disperse like clouds. May practitioners see through the Three Lives—past, present, and future—and may their descendants of nine generations and ancestors of seven lifetimes all ascend beyond the mortal realm.

May the upright reputation of Daoism spread far and wide, and the primordial Qi of Heaven and Earth circulate everywhere. May the lineage endure and flourish, with every branch returning to the ancestral masters’ seat of transmission. Whether withdrawn from the world in seclusion or active within it, may all be blessed and at peace, calming the turmoil of worldly affairs. Whether visible in the world or hidden from view, may all enjoy tranquil harmony, free and serene like the sun and moon within a pot.

We also pray for masters, disciples, fellow practitioners, family members and kin, all beings upon the earth, and believers throughout the world: may every heart awaken to clarity, and every person’s innate nature shine bright. May the winds and rains come in due season and the five grains yield abundant harvests; may the country be stable and its people safe. May warfare cease, and may the calamities of flood and fire be brought under control. May the foundations of the state remain firm and the sovereign’s enterprise prosper for generations. May the enlightened ruler enjoy long life, and may the ministers who assist in governing be wise and virtuous. May the people unite in goodness, may a thousand realms share in the transforming influence of the Dao, and may all beings return to stillness and purity. With reverence, we beseech the holy compassion to bestow grace and extend salvation widely.

The preceding text of confession and vows should be recited devoutly each morning and evening. Let your Dharma body—the practitioner’s inner true nature—face the Celestial Emperor, sincerely turning toward him at all times and carrying a sense of shame and remorse wherever you go. As you recite, understand each sentence clearly; reflect carefully on every word, repent and awaken to your faults, and practice with courage and diligence. Whether facing life or death, hardship, hunger, or cold, set it all aside and devote yourself solely to observing the precepts and cultivating meditation. In this way, your practice will naturally have a future.

The Scripture of the Altar of the Jade Garden, Volume One

Four: Removing Obstacles

If practitioners have not removed their obstacles, their mind and spirit will be obstructed, dull, and confused. If their impediments have not been cleared away, their understanding will grow dim and sluggish. Human nature is originally bright, like the sky and the sun, but deluded thoughts and desires obscure it like drifting clouds. When mist veils the blue sky, the sun cannot shine brightly; when emotional thoughts muddle the portals of the spirit, the inner powers of truth cannot function freely and harmoniously. Is this not a grave affliction for practitioners?

I will now point out its roots. Daoists speak of two kinds of obstacles: one is called “obstruction of principle,” the other “obstruction of affairs.” Without understanding the actual circumstances, it is hard to distinguish truth from falsehood; without understanding the underlying principles, it is hard to discern what is right from what is wrong. If you cling to principles when discussing concrete affairs and become stubbornly pedantic, you fall into obstruction of principle. If you act contrary to principle, behaving perversely and against common sense, you harm your nature and fall into obstruction of affairs. Whether you cling to principle or to affairs, any attachment of the mind becomes an obstacle to cultivation.

Now let us examine the two words “obstacle” in detail. Every scripture and classic is a teaching left behind by the awakened and the prescient, intended to help later generations do good, learn what is good, realize the Dao (the Way), and cultivate the true Way. When people fail to do good and instead do evil, fail to learn what is good and instead learn what is harmful, fail to cultivate the true Way and instead resort to deceit, or fail to realize the Dao and instead corrupt its teachings, this is called “obstacles in one’s conduct obscuring the original mind.”

Some monastics do good but become attached to goodness, learn what is good but become attached to it, cultivate the true Way with excessive seriousness and attachment, or, after realizing the Dao, become bound by outward forms. This happens because they cling to things that seem beautiful and cannot let them go completely. It is called “obstacles of principle obscuring the original mind”: attachment to doctrines and methods of cultivation obscures the original mind. Yet those with obstacles of conduct or of principle still have a certain foundation in cultivation and high aspirations.

There is another kind of practitioner whose mind has not yet awakened to clarity, and whose inner capacity for realization has not yet stirred. They create obstacles wherever they go. When they see practitioners like us, with lofty aspirations, expounding scriptures and precepts, they praise us in public but secretly give rise to anger and deluded thoughts, and develop an impulse to obstruct us.

Everyone, if this obstructive state of mind is not removed, how can you cross out of the sea of suffering? There is clearly a boat and a raft, a sail and oars, enough to cross the sea—so why do people dare not, or cannot, make the crossing? Understand this: even a trace of an obstructive state of mind is like thick clouds suddenly gathering in the sky and spreading across it. A storm is about to break; fierce winds and towering waves are sure to follow. People then dare not cross, and cannot cross.

Everyone, the sea of suffering is vast and boundless, yet turning back brings you to the shore. The obstacles in a practitioner’s heart are like dark clouds gathering and covering the sky. Once those obstacles are cleared away, the winds fall still and the waters grow calm, bringing peace and ease. Only then can one cross out of the sea of suffering. Have you not read the Scripture of the Original Conduct of the High Lord Jade Emperor? It says, “It is only because the obstacles of living beings are so great that they cannot behold the compassionate countenance of the Supreme Lord.” It also says, “All these various obstacles—you should each remove them.” Thus the Imperial Scripture—that is, the Scripture of the Original Conduct of the High Lord Jade Emperor—begins by teaching the removal of obstacles.

To remove obstacles in cultivation, one should give rise to great wisdom and harbor no doubt, greed, anger, lust, jealousy, or desire to kill. One should not entertain ordinary thoughts and concerns, nor fall into dullness and impurity, become absorbed in sensual pleasures, argue over right and wrong, feel aversion or attachment, rank things as superior or inferior, or cling to pride and fixation.

Collect the spirit and quiet the thoughts, bringing the spirit and Qi within the body into calm harmony. Let the mind be as empty and luminous as the Great Void, so that both inner and outer realms are pure and upright, able to contain and welcome all things. Do not let external false thoughts disturb the highest Dao, leading you away from the true Way, damaging your spiritual roots, and making you lose your precious inner foundation. Otherwise, you will sink for a long time into the ordinary world, become trapped in worldly snares, and suffer all manner of demonic obstacles. Even after countless kalpas, you may still not hear the wondrous teaching; you may also be seized and punished by ghosts and spirits, and continue to revolve through birth and death.

Therefore, you should devote yourselves wholeheartedly and sincerely to guarding the true Dao, never allowing it to be lost. Each of the thoughts described above must be severed; these are precisely the obstacles to cultivation. If they are not removed, the Six Roots (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) will be stained, and the Three Actions (deeds of body, speech, and mind) will become entangled, making purity difficult to attain. If the mind is not pure, how can you behold the compassionate countenance of the Supreme God, revered in Daoism? From where could the seventeen kinds of great radiance and the thirty kinds of merit arise?

The radiance and merit of the Supreme God are fully possessed by the Buddhas and sages, the teachers of the gods, and the lords of the heavenly realms. The cultivation taught in this wondrous scripture, in three volumes and five sections, likewise takes the removal of these obstacles as its foundation.

Everyone, there are many obstacles in the world. The Huang Jing mentions only some particular examples, to give you a general understanding of how to discern heavenly principles. Know that the subtle obstacles of this world are countless and intricately entwined. Once a thought arises, they are too many to enumerate one by one.

For example, when reading scriptures and classics, you may encounter profound principles that you cannot grasp because your own abilities and insight are limited. You should recognize that your mind is not yet clear enough and your wisdom not yet sufficient. If you are also unwilling to humbly seek guidance from someone knowledgeable, this is ignorance and mental defilement. After receiving an explanation, if you still feel doubtful and worry that the other person may be wrong, then go ask someone else, and become troubled and unsettled when you hear two different answers—are these differences not obstacles?

When you read scriptures with a companion, if they have learned a passage by heart before you have, and you become irritated and restless, that is an obstacle. Conversely, if you have learned it by heart while your companion has not, and you become smug, that too is an obstacle. If you are talented and look down on those who are slow-witted, or if you see someone else doing good, giving alms, or accumulating merit and feel jealous because they are wealthy while you are poor, or feel proud because you are wealthy while they are in need, all of these are obstacles.

While reading a scripture, you may happen to grasp a principle and then decide that everything you think is right, explaining it to others. If someone with greater understanding disagrees and you refuse to yield, that too is an obstacle. After hearing a subtle and profound teaching, you may cling to it, understand only one side, and fail to interpret it flexibly; this is also an obstacle. If, while practicing seated meditation, you happen to gain some insight and then boast about it everywhere, that too is an obstacle. When fellow practitioners listen together to a master expound the Dao, they may grasp only one side and fail to adapt their understanding. Or, when the master praises someone else for understanding clearly while they themselves have not yet understood, they may fail to reflect on themselves and instead envy the other person for having gained insight first. These, too, are all obstacles.

You may accumulate possessions and, even at the point of death, be unwilling to part with a single coin. You may become attached to things you enjoy and refuse to give them up—for instance, if you love the zither, books, chess, or painting and your thoughts are always occupied with them. All of these can become obstacles. Some people regard Fulu and magical arts as wondrous powers, while others consider them inferior practices of deliberate action. Some favor them and others reject them, each clinging to their own view. These, too, are obstacles.

Since you seek freedom from worldly concerns and release from the suffering of rebirth, you should begin the work of transcendent cultivation now, resolve to cultivate the Way beyond the world. All kinds of obstacles are veils that obscure your spiritual nature and cause you to lose your original nature. How could they help you transcend the world? If you are willing to remove these tangled obstacles one by one, cut off their unceasing roots, and dispel scattered thoughts, letting your heart become as open and clear as the vast emptiness, then your mind and spirit will become nimble and transparent. Amid myriad changes, you will remain harmonious and clear; wisdom will arise naturally, and your original nature will shine forth. The many subtle workings contained in this include the key to the comings and goings of life and death, and embody the state in which Heaven and humanity become one—that is, when people accord with the Way of Heaven. All this happens naturally; it cannot be understood through ordinary conscious deliberation.

Alas, these obstacles! The key lies only in whether you can remove them. The Vinaya master (here, a teacher who expounds Buddhist teachings or precepts) therefore said: “From the moment innate nature first arises, inner luminous virtue is not illusory. It illuminates the mind, and even the slightest obscuration can hardly conceal it. Once the heart opens wide, the vision at once becomes clear and pure.”

The Five Renunciations: severing five kinds of attachment and relinquishing bonds of love and affinity.

Everyone, we already know that obstacles cause harm. The harm caused by bonds of love—attachments formed through romantic love and emotional ties—is even more serious than that caused by obstacles. Why? An obstructed mind often arises only when we encounter a particular circumstance. Once that circumstance passes, the thought dissolves, so the harm comes and goes quickly. Bonds of love are different: they are deeply rooted causes planted across distant kalpas and carried into this life.

Thus sages, immortals, and Buddhas all urge people not to cling to outward appearances, be bound and entangled by emotions, or give way to craving. The scriptures of the Three Teachings all warn later generations not to be ensnared by bonds of love. These bonds are the source of all kinds of demonic hindrances and the root of many calamities. People have been deluded and unable to awaken for countless kalpas, and have fallen again and again through rebirth, all because of bonds of love. They cannot find the path to liberation or understand the principle of true emptiness, again because of these bonds.

Breaking the law while alive and falling into hell after death are both caused by bonds of love. So are calamities involving water and fire, violent robbery, and the ravages of war. The destruction of families, the ending of their lineages, the breaking of precepts, and the violation of laws and regulations all arise from these bonds. So do the misfortunes that befall one’s ancestors and the decline of offerings and incense at their shrines. Birth, aging, illness, and death; a wayward mind and nature; poor health; and little progress in cultivating the Dao—all are caused by bonds of love.

The six senses—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—are impure; the six thieves, the sensory desires that disturb the mind, run rampant; and the six consciousnesses, the discriminating awareness that arises from the six senses, make distinctions without cease. The result is a cycle of rebirth in the Six Realms. All of this is attributed to bonds of love. The growth and decline of things, and the rise and passing away of all manner of events, throughout heaven and earth and among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), are likewise attributed to these bonds.

If one wishes to transcend the mundane world and escape birth and death, yet does not seek to sever emotional ties and relinquish attachment, one cannot attain clear understanding, a pure mind, and freedom through liberation.

As for people who live in the world, whether their ties are those of ruler and subject, father and child, or other relationships, they too cannot attain clear understanding, a pure mind, and freedom through liberation unless they let go of emotional ties and release their attachments.

I will first speak about people who remain at home. The bonds of affection and relationships among ruler and subject, father and son, husband and wife, brothers, and friends were already discussed by the sages of antiquity through the “Five Relationships, Five Restraints, and Five Partialities.” They also taught that emotions should arise in accordance with proper measure, and that there are appropriate degrees and distinctions in drawing close to family and showing respect for the worthy. These principles are arranged and regulated according to the innate, luminous nature of the human heart, so that each person keeps to their own nature and allotted life, and the whole cosmos remains harmonious and at peace. When this is so, primordial Qi remains one undivided whole, and there is no need to renounce all ordinary human relationships indiscriminately. This is the principle of allowing nature to take its course and attaining purity, stillness, and liberation. I will discuss this matter further another time.

For now, I will speak only of those who leave home to cultivate the Way. You faithful gathered here at the altar can use this teaching to let go of attachments and longings that exceed your proper station. Even things within your station that seem worthy of affection need not be clung to. Discern, one by one, which entanglements should be brought to an end, and keep them in check. All of you, bonds of attachment—relationships formed through craving and clinging—can confuse you, yet you remain completely unaware. Why do I say this? As soon as a thought arises in the human heart, it may take delight in something and give rise to attachment. This is called a bond of attachment.

Things great or small, coarse or fine; relatives near or far; matters within or outside oneself, proper or improper, right or wrong; the sages and teachings of the three traditions of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism; the principles found in scriptures, writings, and all kinds of texts; the mysteries of change in Heaven and Earth and Yin-Yang; all manner of wondrous and mysterious arts; and the paths of cultivation in Daoist traditions such as Qingwei, Lingbao, and Quanzhen—all can become bonds of attachment. So can famous mountains and grotto-heavens, celestial palaces and sacred realms, precious treasures and fine foods, the Yellow River Chart and auspicious spirit tortoises. Even your own body and mind, your five viscera and six bowels, your teeth and tongue, your Jing and Qi, as well as mountains, rivers, and the earth, plants and trees, birds and beasts, and insects can become bonds of attachment.

Anything the mind craves, the heart attends to, or the thoughts dwell on; anything into which the spirit and Qi are invested, to which the emotions cling, which one’s nature favors, which the mouth desires, or which the body seeks for pleasure—even places visited in dreams—can become a bond of attachment. As long as even a single thought remains within the heart, it will draw you in and bind you, making it difficult to attain purity, stillness, and liberation. In the end, you will become lost in it and live in sorrow and distress.

Ordinary people: When the mind is captivated by desire and attachment, bonds of love and longing arise; once one awakens, those bonds dissolve. So remain aware at all times and apply yourself to cultivation at every moment. If even the slightest craving for something arises in the mind, let it go at once, and do not allow it to draw you into further entanglements.

If you enjoy lying down, you should sit in meditation; if you enjoy sitting in meditation, you should walk. When you delight in letting go, the mind and spirit naturally become lively; when you delight in emptiness, your inner nature naturally becomes clear and open. When nothing weighs on the heart, all manner of entanglements cease to arise. The awakened person’s mind is bright: external circumstances do not lead it along, external things do not unsettle it, and affairs do not disturb it. In time, the mysterious will reveal itself, and the Original Aperture—the source of life or key opening described in inner cultivation—will open.

If you do not remove an attachment today and keep cutting it off tomorrow, or if you let it go for a while without rooting it out completely, you will still be caught in its web. Then robes and alms bowls, and meditation cushions, will all become nets; straw sandals and bamboo staffs will become ropes of bondage. Famous mountains and sacred sites will become prisons, and fellow disciples and Dao companions will become enemies. Even oral instructions and true words—secrets imparted or incantations recited in practice—may become poison. Your original Dao-heart and inborn nature may turn to the pursuit of blessings and become an asura, a being in Buddhist and Daoist contexts driven by attachment, conflict, and competitiveness. How could one fail to be cautious and grieved by this? How could one fail to let go of these attachments, however painful, and cut them off completely?

Once, there was a Daoist who, after sitting in meditation for a long time, began to see extraordinary visions. He saw light streaming from the crown of his head, bright with five colors, like rosy clouds and brocade. Within the light appeared mountains, rivers, the land, and all kinds of things. The Daoist was delighted, thinking that this vision…

Long ago, a Daoist practitioner experienced wondrous visions after sitting in meditation for a long time. He saw five-colored light streaming from the crown of his head, bright and vivid as rosy clouds and brocade. Within the light appeared mountains, rivers, the earth, and all manner of things. He rejoiced, believing he had received the vast, unobstructed light of the Supreme Deity. From then on, he sat upright day and night, deliberately thinking about the light, but never saw it again.

The practitioner did not understand that these visions were mere illusions, not reality. He focused on visualization, pushing away every thought until only the thought of light remained. After sustaining this visualization for a long time, he became dazed and vacant, his body stiff as wood and earth. Everyone thought he had realized the Great Dao. He sat in meditation and visualized for six years; his mind grew dull and his body changed, yet he remained unaware.

One day, his breathing became rough and rapid. His companions kept watch beside him, hoping only that he would emerge from meditation so they could ask him about the Dao. Among them, only one practitioner recognized that he had fallen under the spell of demonic influence. At midnight, the meditating Daoist suddenly spread his arms as if to fly. The others lit lamps and candles, arranged incense and flowers, and offered them to him in reverence. The Daoist then breathed his last, and a moth flew from his mouth, darted toward the flame, and died when it struck the fire.

The practitioner picked up the moth and said to everyone, “This moth is what became of the Daoist who visualized the light. He became attached to the light and met the same fate as a moth. When the conditions ripened, his body transformed into another kind of being. If attachment and craving are not cast aside, one will fall into such a state. Is this not sad, and does it not deserve our vigilance and resolve to put an end to it?” The words echoed in everyone’s minds.

Everyone should understand this: whatever the heart becomes attached to creates bonds of karmic affinity. These affinities arise from attachment, and attachment in turn follows from these affinities; the two entangle each other without end. Thus beings are reborn as fathers and sons, or grandparents and grandchildren; they may change from male to female, take on different faces, bodies, and names, and turn upside down through the cycle of rebirth. Yet ordinary people take all this to be real. It is truly frightening and pitiful. Everyone should understand this principle.

Six: Observing the Precepts with Rigorous Discipline (strictly keeping the precepts and maintaining upright practice)

Those who practice the Dao have already renounced personal attachments and let go of their cares, sincerely seeking to transcend the world and bring the cycle of life and death to an end. They should therefore guard against old emotional ties rekindling. If bonds of affection remain unbroken and desire grows again, the heart will still be entangled and fall once more into bondage and snares, making liberation impossible. One must therefore take precautions before desire has even appeared. Otherwise, all the effort invested in earlier practice will have been wasted, and future demonic obstacles will be difficult to avoid. For this reason, one should follow the sages of antiquity, using precepts to discipline and collect the body and mind.

The “precepts” spoken of here are like a pestle that subdues demonic obstacles and suppresses evil; like a talisman that protects life and increases good fortune and longevity; like a ladder to the heavens, enabling people to pay reverence to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing, the three highest deities revered in Daoism), rise beyond the ordinary, and approach the sacred realm; and like a lamp that guides the way, helping people dispel the six desires—the cravings of the six senses—and break through confusion and darkness. The precepts are also like an immortal boat, a precious raft that carries people across the sea of suffering, and like a ferry and bridge that help them cross the river of desire. The precepts are truly the safeguard of those who practice the Dao and an essential guide to advancing along the Great Dao. Immortals and sages have no other path: all begin by observing the precepts. The worthy and wise, too, have a path they can follow, and that is to practice in accordance with the precepts. The precepts are indeed the great road leading to the realm of perfected immortals, and the proper entrance and path for the cultivation of the worthy and wise.

Since, through causes and conditions planted in former lives, you have now had the good fortune to hear the teachings on the precepts, you are truly blessed. If you do not practice in accordance with them, observing them earnestly, rigorously, and diligently, then…

Followers, because you planted the seeds of affinity in a previous life, you are able to hear the precepts in this life. This is a great blessing. If you do not practice in accordance with the precepts, observe them carefully, and apply yourselves diligently, this great blessing will turn into great sin.

These precepts are heavenly prohibitions and regulations established by the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, the Celestial Worthy of Numinous Treasure, and the Most High Lord Lao. The Celestial Office of Lady Qing, which oversees inspection in the heavens, regularly examines them; divine troops guard them, and heavenly generals patrol. Those who observe them with reverence are entered in the Cinnabar Register, which records their merits, and their virtue is increased. Those who violate and reject them are entered in the Black Book, where their faults are recorded. Heavenly inspection is meticulous and thorough, leaving nothing overlooked.

Today, most people who receive the precepts still do not understand their meaning. To say that they “do not understand” means they have not yet grasped the principles behind them. If they truly understood, they would practice with care and refrain from violating them. Is it not precisely because they do not understand the precepts that they break them?

Therefore, among the community, those who have received the precepts must reflect carefully on what the word “precept” truly means. How should the precepts be put into practice? A precept means restraining and forbidding oneself. What, specifically, should one restrain? And why did one receive the precepts in the first place? If you came seeking the precepts, you should practice in accordance with them every day. If you are unwilling to observe them daily, why receive them at all? Such an attitude shows that you are not sincerely seeking the precepts, but acting from self-interest: you want the empty reputation of a Daoist who has received the precepts, or you merely seek the transmission of a Daoist’s robe and bowl. Otherwise, why fail to observe the clear rules?

You should understand that since the Seven Perfected Ones (the seven important patriarchs of the Quanzhen tradition) expounded the teachings, Daoist instruction has gradually declined. For four hundred years, the precepts and ritual forms have not been brought to prominence, because no one within the tradition has stepped forward to take responsibility for spreading them. As a result, no one has relit the heavenly lamp that illuminates the path of cultivation, and practitioners grope their way through the darkness. The staff that supports cultivation has also been cast aside, leaving them without a prop to lean on. Thus, heterodox teachings have instead spread throughout the world, while the Dao of stillness, liberation, integrity, and clarity is heard by few.

Now, fortunately, the fortunes of the Dao are flourishing and the world is at peace. Above, the emperor offers his protection; at court, officials and devoted believers support the tradition. Benefactors also make offerings, and the clothing, hats, and ritual bowls needed for cultivation have all been provided. This is an opportunity rarely encountered in a thousand lifetimes, scarcely met across the ages, and it is all due to the karmic ties you formed in previous lives.

Once you have accepted the precepts, you should make a serious effort to understand what “precepts” truly mean. Sadly, among those who receive them, some are wise and others foolish. Some arrive to receive the precepts with sincere intentions, but afterward forget their original resolve and fail to keep them. Does this not betray the purpose they had when they first took the precepts? Robes and headcloths worn for the precepts are pawned or sold; some are altered into everyday clothes, and some are even cut up to make sleeve cuffs. The pure alms bowl used after ordination is turned into an incense burner or used to hold money or rice. People stop observing the fasting rules, drink alcohol, eat meat, and do whatever they please. As a result, their wisdom fades and the foundations of their cultivation are severed. Such examples can be found everywhere in this life, each one serving as proof.

Long ago, a precept recipient broke the rules, defiled and sold his precept scriptures and robes, and discarded his alms bowl. Then he suddenly died. He saw many ghost soldiers bind him with chains and take him to the underworld, the realm of the dead. There stood a stern, imposing government office, with rows of ghost soldiers on either side and many people in chains. They were all acquaintances from his life above, fellow Daoists who had also broken the precepts. Startled, he asked them, “How did you end up here too?” They replied, “We don’t know why, but one after another, we’ve all met here.”

He saw a plaque over the gate that read “Office of Examination and Verification” and asked the ghost soldiers, “Why is this place called the Office of Examination and Verification?” They replied, “This is a newly established office under the laws of Heaven, charged with overseeing the precepts of monks and Daoist priests. Whenever someone in the world of the living resolves to receive the precepts, the local earth god enters that person’s name in a register. The record notes the date they received the precepts; the dates on which they upheld them well or failed to do so; and when they broke the precepts, turned away from the Dao, disobeyed their teacher’s instructions, damaged the precepts and teachings, sold their robes, defiled their alms bowls, slandered the preceptor who transmitted the precepts, deceived donors, or engaged in greed, sexual misconduct, and other such acts. Each month, these records are sent to the various offices for review. Those who received the precepts must first undergo examination here before they can proceed to any other office. People of pure conduct and unwavering commitment to the Dao will not fall into the underworld. As for you who broke the precepts, you must first be tried here and struck from the register; once the appointed time comes, your lives will be claimed. Without this office’s review, no other office will approve your passage.”

All you who have received the precepts, listen carefully: the man who died remained in the underworld for a night and half a day. He later returned to life and told people what he had experienced.

Everyone, when you rebuke others for wrongdoing, you can see even the slightest fault clearly. Yet when you yourself are at fault, you often fail to notice. Your faults accumulate day by day, and you forgive yourself for each one, building up boundless karmic offenses while trying to hide them. This is what it means to deceive your own conscience.

Those who have received the precepts should constantly examine their conduct, speech, and thoughts. Do what is good and correct what is bad. Do not make excuses for yourselves or be quick to indulge your own failings. When you discover a fault, reflect on it and awaken to it without delay, then sincerely repent before the sages and perfected beings—the sacred figures revered in Daoism. Study the precept scriptures carefully, diligently seek guidance from accomplished teachers, and learn deeply. Respect your teachers and elders as you would your parents, respect fellow Daoists as you would older brothers, cherish the Daoist teachings as you would a wife, and treasure the scriptures as you would fine jade.

Keep the precepts as carefully as you would hold an object in your hands: set it down, and you may lose it; let your resolve to keep the precepts slacken, and they may be broken. In the human world, violating the law of the ruler brings punishment. The Daoist laws of Heaven and the Statutes of Nüqing, one of the Daoist codes of discipline, likewise bring fitting consequences upon those who break the precepts. Do not think that because the underworld is dark, no one can know what you have done. Life and death, fortune and misfortune, are all connected to your thoughts. Nor should you think that the spirits who oversee the precepts are too hidden to see: your everyday words and actions are inseparable from your thoughts.

The four characters “rigorous and pure observance of the precepts” mean this: subdue selfish desires and follow what is right; this is “precept.” Endure and keep practicing; this is “practice.” Allow no stray thought to intrude; this is “pure.” Do not violate the rules in the slightest; this is “rigorous.” Remain unchanged from beginning to end; this is “keeping the precepts.” Do not change even in poverty; this is “guarding the precepts.”

Since you have received the precepts, can you really not remember the ten rules they contain? If you merely bear the name of having received the precepts but do not actually observe them, why receive them at all?

If you receive even one practical teaching, everyone should be able to follow it with confidence. The ruler in Heaven is guided by a concern for the preservation of life, with boundless compassion and a desire to save all beings. If this were not true, why would it be declared with such solemnity?

If someone breaks the precepts but then repents and changes, lets their sincerity shine through, resumes observing the rules, and keeps them with strict care, daring not to transgress again, then even if they have erred in the past, Heaven will take pity on them and forgive them when they sincerely plead and repent, allowing them to return to the right path.

Let me tell another story about the consequences of returning to the precepts after breaking them, so that everyone may understand. A Daoist who had received the precepts said that soon afterward he suddenly encountered demonic trials, so he abandoned his vegetarian observance and broke the precepts, committing every kind of wrongdoing. One night, he dreamed that he had arrived in the underworld, where he saw the officials presiding over a trial. Many ghost officials had hung gauze lanterns and set out incense tables. Before long, the King of Hell emerged from the gate, his bearing imposing, like an emperor in the human world. A magistrate announced that the celestial envoy had arrived and ordered the incense table prepared at once to receive the imperial decree. The scene resembled a human government office receiving an imperial edict.

The envoy was an immortal official. He wore a golden lotus crown and a five-cloud crane cloak, a Daoist robe embroidered with cloud patterns. Holding a yellow decree case, he handed it inside. None of the ghosts were allowed into the hall. The Daoist in the dream wanted to enter too, but a ghost guard shouted at him, “What place do you come from, wandering soul? How dare you trespass in this heavily guarded hall?” Another guard said, “He looks like a Daoist.” The first guard replied, “A few days ago, a decree ordered that those who cultivate and observe the precepts may enter fully dressed when they die. Those who have a radiance about them may enter through the main gate; those whose radiance is weaker may enter through the east gate. Those with no radiance are stripped of their precept names, put in shackles, and sent out through the side gate to the west. They must wait by the signboard to be questioned. You have no radiance, Daoist. You’re covered in black Qi, just like us, and you dare to pass yourself off as a Daoist! Get out!” As he spoke, he raised an iron rod and struck at him.

The precept holder awoke with a clear memory of the dream. He immediately got up, washed his face, kindled a pure flame, and offered incense. Filled with fear and sorrow, he repented bitterly and resolved to change his former ways. He thereafter observed the precepts carefully and kept them strictly. Later, he dreamed again that he was traveling through the King of Hell’s court, the same place he had visited before. The guard carrying an iron rod and iron chains ran up and asked, “May I ask where you are going, Immortal Master?” The precept holder replied, “I’m simply passing through on my travels. I wouldn’t dare disturb the King. I’ll be on my way back now.” The guard said, “The King has decreed that whenever an Immortal Master whose conduct and observance of the precepts shine with radiance passes through here, we must first invite him to sit in the tea room, ask his name, and enter it in the register so it can be checked.” The precept holder said, “I have no official business, so there’s no need.” He then turned to leave and suddenly found himself outside the underworld. When he awoke, he told everyone what had happened.

On his first visit, the guards had beaten and scolded him; on the second, they had greeted him respectfully and asked his name. The same person had met with different treatment because his thoughts and actions had changed. Had he not repented of his former wrongs, he would have remained as he was. From the way the gods carry out their principles, the underworld and the human world follow the same principles. How could we fail to hold them in awe?

Everyone should understand that time passes quickly, and the mind must be kept bright. Do not wait until death approaches to walk in the darkness of the underworld. The ox-headed ghosts are not easy to deal with, and the horse-faced ghosts show no leniency. When you have done wrong, correct it at once; everything depends on observing the precepts with utmost care. Among the myriad methods, cultivating the mind is the highest. In the boundless sea of suffering, follow the light of the precepts and wisdom.

The fault that cultivators fall into most easily, and find hardest to correct, is anger. When anger arises, it is the fire of ignorance and karma, kindled by delusion and distress. Of the Three Poisons—greed, anger, and delusion—anger is one. If it cannot be calmed, it first burns the person from within; spoken aloud, it then harms others.

This blaze can destroy one’s inner clarity and damage the Dharma-body on which cultivation depends—the cultivator’s body and mind as a whole. It throws the body’s organs out of balance and makes the spirit difficult to settle. Hearing someone curse at them, a person’s anger flares like a blaze struck by a gale, as though the ear faculty were blocked. Seeing someone insult them, their anger burns just as fiercely, as though the eye faculty were veiled. Harsh words burst out; resentment wells up, and the gall gives rise to plans to harm.

In anger, people may disregard Heaven and Earth, the spirits, even life and death. They may fear neither punishment in the underworld nor execution by beheading or hanging, penal exile, or banishment by the authorities. Instead, they let the tongue run free, creating all manner of offenses.

Why do the ears, eyes, mouth, and tongue suffer in this way? Because the heart of flesh and blood cannot be brought under control. Buoyed by a surge of vital energy and blood, it asserts itself and throws its weight around. Once the moment has passed and the heart and its energy have settled, the anger cools and fades like ice.

Everyone, the bodies of beings in this world are formed from the gathering of blood and Qi (vital energy). The roots of anger and hatred were planted long ago, since beginningless kalpas—an immeasurably distant past. The karmic fire born of ignorance, a mind clouded and unaware, has also been present from long ago. So when things go as we wish, our hearts rejoice; when they do not, joy turns to resentment. When we encounter circumstances that go against our wishes, anger arises. This is the very root of samsara.

Since you have already left home to become monastics, your original purpose was to escape birth and death. If the roots of anger and hatred remain, it is like a poisonous dragon invading the root of Heaven—that is, the foundation of life. You sought release from worldly bonds because you understand how precious nature and life are. If anger and hatred do not fade, it is like the breath becoming blocked in the Moon Grotto—the moon’s dwelling place, a Neidan (internal alchemy) term for a site of inner cultivation.

Human nature is good at its root, but anger can turn it into a poisonous dragon. If you make a habit of kindling the fire of anger, its flames will burn you from within. Human life could naturally endure for a long time, but anger can make a person fierce as a tiger and constantly generate poisonous Qi. When the breath becomes hurried, it damages one’s original nature. Failure to understand the principles of life and death comes from not knowing how to cherish one’s life; when nature and life cannot be settled, it is also because the fire within is too strong. This leaves the six senses—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—ungoverned. The limbs tremble and move abnormally, the sense organs cannot function as they should, and Qi seems to stream outward through the pores. These effects cause many kinds of harm, damage one’s innate endowment, and shorten one’s lifespan.

Everyone, to put an end to anger and hatred, begin by subduing harmful thoughts. What are harmful thoughts? Being unable to endure insult is a harmful thought. Confucius said, “Teach people with generosity and gentleness, and do not repay unreasonable conduct with unreasonable conduct.” If the heart cannot endure the many things that happen, it will bring about all kinds of calamities, damage one’s innate endowment, and shorten one’s lifespan.

Everyone, if you wish to put an end to resentment, you must first subdue malicious thoughts. What is a malicious thought? Being unable to endure humiliation. The great sage Confucius said, “Teach others with kindness and gentleness, and do not retaliate over what is unreasonable.” If you cannot endure humiliation for even a single day, then for that day you remain a bad person. How could such a person enter the Dao?

Those who cannot endure humiliation cannot subdue their inner selves. They are like poisonous dragons and fierce tigers: they know only how to humiliate others, yet cannot bear to be humiliated themselves. They show off their strength and compete to win, seek the limelight in front of others, and fly into a rage to display their authority, speaking and acting with menacing force. They boast of being heroes, vie for profit and reputation, brag about their achievements and rely on their power. They use their influence to bully the weak, treat their elders with arrogance, and oppress the vulnerable. Sometimes they are eager to work for the public good, yet do not realize that they may both save and harm others. When sentient beings are deluded and unaware, how could they think deeply and plan for the future? Heaven’s retribution may come late; if a grudge remains unresolved, it is because the root of resentment has not been cut away. A resentful person is always eager to humiliate others and unwilling to suffer humiliation. Yet they fail to understand how greatly suffering humiliation differs from humiliating someone else.

Everyone, the circumstances that constitute “humiliation” are very broad. For example, having illicit relations with another man’s wife or concubine means showing no regard for the shame brought upon her husband, children, and ancestors…

Everyone, the word “humiliation” encompasses many meanings. For example, when someone has sex with another man’s wife or concubine, he often gives no thought to the shame this brings upon her husband, children, ancestors, and family. But if someone has sex with his own wife or concubine, he burns with anger and feels utterly disgraced. At the thought that, if others found out, even his parents’ and ancestors’ reputations and the family ways passed down to his descendants would be damaged, he cannot bear it. He may even grab a knife or stick, fly into a rage, and form the intent to kill.

Yet he does not stop to ask himself: “If someone has wronged me, I want to take revenge in this way. But if I have not wronged others, why would they treat me like this?” If one’s wife or daughter is violated in this life, it must be connected to evil causes one created in a former life. Someone who violated another’s wife or daughter in a past life may, in this life, suffer the retribution of having his own wife or daughter violated. This is the law of cause and effect in the human world. Having heard these words, be very careful not to give rise to lustful thoughts.

I will tell you plainly: everyone’s life begins with sexual desire. As long as the mind of sexual desire remains, the root of birth and death cannot be severed. People acquire their physical bodies through sexual desire. To escape the constraints of the physical body, one must cleanse oneself of desire. Only when desire has been removed can the Dharma Body—a body that transcends the physical and embodies the fruits of practice—arise within this decaying body, bringing release from birth and death. These are true words; do not listen to them as idle talk and then let them pass.

Recently, there was a practitioner who had received the precepts and ordinarily showed a strong aspiration for the Dao. One day, while going out to collect alms of grain, he carried his bowl past a rice shop. The shopkeeper, who admired Daoism, gladly invited him into the main hall, bowed to him, and offered him a meal. He also placed a small silver coin in the bowl. As the practitioner left the hall, he happened to meet the shopkeeper’s wife walking along the corridor. They came face to face, and the woman had no time to step aside. After thanking them for the meal, the practitioner went on his way.

After seeing the woman, however, he found that during seated meditation that night his thoughts kept drifting to her, and he repeatedly imagined her appearance. Then he rose, knelt before the incense, and repented before going to sleep. Before long, he suddenly felt that he had died and been reborn in a womb. When he grew up, he married. His wife was beautiful, and they lived together in harmony. One day, he met a Daoist on the roadside who was begging for food. Glad to see him, he invited the Daoist home to offer him a meal and do a good deed. He also called his wife out to meet the guest, then bowed down to the Daoist. As he turned around, he saw the Daoist beckoning to his wife. Rage surged through him. He rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a cleaver, and was about to strike the Daoist when he tripped and woke up. His heart was still full of anger, and he was drenched in sweat. Only then did he realize it had all been a dream.

He recalled the Daoist’s face from the dream: it was the very same shopkeeper who had offered him a meal at the rice shop. The wife in the dream was the woman he had met in the shop’s corridor that day. Everyone, this practitioner had only recently begun applying himself to practice. Although he kept the precepts firmly, his meditative stability was not yet strong. So the person he had seen during the day kept coming back to mind at night. As these deluded thoughts accumulated, they took shape in a dream like this.

There was another practitioner who upheld the precepts with resolve. He never spoke falsely, and his thoughts never strayed into delusion. When others insulted him, he felt no anger or resentment. If they struck him, he did not strike back; if they cursed him, he did not answer in kind. He only examined his own conduct for what he might have done wrong, and never assumed that others were at fault.

One day, he was walking along the road with a load on his shoulders when a donkey came charging toward him. He moved aside to let it pass, but the donkey suddenly rammed him with its head. He could not dodge in time and fell to the ground. The donkey then bit through his clothes and ran off.

That night, the practitioner sat in meditation. In a state that seemed at once close to deep stillness and hazy, he suddenly saw a person dressed in white. The figure thanked him and said, “I am the donkey that rammed you on the road. In a past life, we incurred a debt of enmity between us. Today that resentment has been settled, and we have both been freed. I, too, will leave the realms of suffering and be reborn as a human being. I came especially to tell you. On the appointed day next month, please come to a certain place so you can help deliver me from suffering through reciting scriptures and performing rites. I will wait for you there.” With that, the figure departed.

The practitioner had seen clearly and heard plainly. He knew the event had happened, yet it felt like a dream. After rising, he continued his meditation as usual. When the appointed day came the following month, he went to the agreed place and found the entire household filled with joy, as if they had received good news. He asked the people nearby what had happened, and they told him that a child had been born into the family the night before. The practitioner was astonished. He silently noted the child’s name and vowed first to seek his own liberation, then to help liberate others.

Among you, is there anyone like this, whose enmity from a past life could only be settled in this one?

For those who have received the precepts and practice the Dao, what matters is the intention they bring to the path: to endure humiliation, resolve resentment, and willingly bear hardship without dwelling on insult or loss. They should be like the practitioner in this story and settle the enmities incurred in past lives.

For those who receive the precepts, the most important thing is to make a personal vow to cultivate the Way, endure humiliation, and dissolve resentment. When suffering or hardship comes, accept it. Be willing to forget your shame and bear some loss if that will settle a grievance, accept adversity, and subdue your own mind. Hold firmly to the precepts, treating them as a precept blade that cuts through the fire of ignorance in your heart at every moment; treat patience as a garment to be worn at all times.

Do not let others’ beatings, insults, bullying, slander, or humiliation shake your resolve to keep the precepts. Even if you are drawn into trouble through no fault of your own and punished by the authorities, or struck by lightning, caught in a fire or flood, robbed, harmed by wild animals, afflicted by illness or snakebite, or tormented by demons and spirits; even if people ruin your reputation with cruel words, your enemies curse you and harm your family, or you cannot escape injury to your limbs or damage to your body, accept it all calmly.

Such hardships are said to arise from causes and conditions formed in past lives, and to be calamities that cannot be avoided. You should accept them with a settled mind, follow the order of Heaven, repay old debts, and answer for past causes and effects. Do not give rise to resistance, lest you damage your practice of the precepts. Reflect that if people bully you now, perhaps you once bullied others; if people trouble you now, perhaps you once troubled them. Demonic ordeals, injuries, and disasters, too, are linked to karma created in the past: you reap what you have sown.

After receiving the precepts, all evil karma gradually dissipates with each passing thought. The six desires—the cravings of the six senses—then cease to grow, and the three poisons of greed, anger, and delusion are dispelled. Body and mind become light and unburdened, one’s temperament grows calm and balanced, suffering subsides, and enmity is resolved.

The resentments people have accumulated since time without beginning should now give way to thoughts of goodness. Whatever debts or grievances you owe others, be willing to shoulder them and repay them one by one. Be willing to suffer loss yourself in order to benefit others: this is the path to liberation. From then on, return to purity, to the Great Void—the vast, formless ground—and to the undivided origin of Chaos. Gather the spirit and preserve stillness, cultivating the perfected reward body formed through the merit of practice.

Otherwise, if you refuse to repay debts from past lives and refuse to yield when humiliated in this life, retaliation in the next life will naturally continue without end. How, then, can the body transcend the world, the mind become empty and still, or the Dao be cultivated? If you cannot endure even a few casual remarks now, how can you cast off every burden completely at the threshold of life and death and attain purity?

Everyone, understand how to endure, and the anger in your heart will subside, leaving your five internal organs naturally cool and clear. Understand how to endure, and the body’s fluids will arise, bringing harmony and calm to the six viscera. Endurance can bring others contentment, naturally dispelling resentment and restoring peace. It can also make you tolerant of others and open your heart.

When someone insults me, if I do not take it as an insult, the insult ultimately falls back on that person. But if I insult someone and they bear my humiliation, they will surely repay me with humiliation. When I can endure, my heart and Qi are at peace, and the fire of the liver does not flare up; this can be transformed into the power of the Lord of the Southern Dipper to dispel calamity and misfortune. When I can endure, fluids arise in the lungs and beneath the arms, moistening the stomach and becoming the sweet dew of the Jade Pool. When I can endure, my kidney essence is not depleted, and the primordial Qi above and below can remove hardship, becoming the Spring of Martial Spirit. When I can endure, the Earth of the spleen does not grow dry; the body becomes light, strong, and at ease, transforming into white snow and yellow sprouts. Endurance brings nourishment from the Dharma dew. It leaves the Dharma body without deficiency, allowing the Qi of the Dao to communicate with spirit and reveal a majestic, wondrous form.

Today, enduring in matters of state surely benefits the court; enduring within the family benefits one’s relatives; enduring in one’s personal circumstances benefits the spirit; enduring within the heart benefits nature and life; and enduring within the religious community benefits fellow disciples and their kin. Such are the benefits of endurance.

If you cannot bear humiliation and hardship, your heart cannot become empty and still, your spirit and Qi will lose their clarity, and your strength will be insufficient. Your capacity will not be generous, your heart will not be open, and your aspirations will not reach far. Your merit and virtue will struggle to reach completion, your cultivation will remain imperfect, your understanding will lack depth, and your reflections will not be far-reaching. Your wisdom will shrink, your blessings and virtue will grow scant, and your foundation in the Dao will weaken. You may hear of the Great Dao yet fail to understand it, and your practice of the Great Dao may be obstructed. You may also invite others’ hatred, jealousy, and aversion, stirring distress in their hearts and earning their contempt and neglect. In secret, you may be punished by ghosts and spirits; your sleep may be troubled by fearful dreams; and in the open, divine beings may rebuke you. You may even contract illnesses such as scabies or eruptions. Resentments accumulated over many lifetimes will be difficult to resolve, and retribution in future lives will grow more severe. The sea of suffering is already ceaselessly stirred by waves; how could desire fail to raise storms?

Everyone, have you not heard? Ghosts and spirits punish people, filling them with terror in their dreams; the gods also rebuke people unseen. Scabies, leprosy, madness, and rashes may all arise from the roots of unresolved karmic grievances carried through many kalpas. The retribution in future lives will grow all the more severe. The sea of suffering is already beset by unceasing waves. Why, then, stir up new storms from nothing?

Everyone, have you not heard? De is the foundation of one’s character; only with a generous heart can one’s virtue grow great. Heaven is impartial and supports only those who possess De. Among you, some are wise and some foolish: some prize wealth and lose their De; some lust after beauty and lose their De; others give free rein to pride and anger and lose their De. Though the troubles brought on by wealth, beauty, or wounded pride differ, the shame they bring in the end is the same.

A sage said, “When anger rises in an instant, people forget their own safety and may even neglect their families.” He also said, “When you are angry, consider the calamity it may bring.” Zengzi said, “Once anger and defiance take hold in the heart, it cannot remain upright.” So is the precept of enduring humiliation not important? Is the harm caused by anger not profound? For this reason, the perfected beings (those who have attained the Dao) and the patriarchs made freedom from anger the gateway to the path, and forgetting anger a way of cultivating the Dao. They use patience in the face of humiliation to dispel the wish to harm others, and forgetfulness of having been humiliated to bring their aspirations to completion. In the Wondrous Scripture of Great Unity for Delivering the Suffering and Protecting the Person (Scripture of Deliverance from Suffering), the Celestial Worthy of Great Unity says: “The barriers of flame become a cool realm; the sword trees turn into fragrant groves. Transcend the suffering of the Three Realms, and in the end ascend to the heaven where the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning resides.”

Everyone, wake up quickly and listen to this verse: “Cast off early the distinctions between self and others; quickly understand the causes of birth and death. Patience in the face of humiliation can subdue the fire of anger; in emptiness and stillness, the Dharma Body (the pure nature realized by a practitioner) appears. The seven emotions fade as thoughts cease; the virtue of the ancients, who endured a hundred trials, is like a fragrant grove. Transcend the suffering of the Three Realms, and in the end ascend to the heaven where the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning resides.”

Everyone must wake up at once and listen to this verse: Cast off as soon as possible your attachment to distinctions between self and others, and quickly understand the roots of life and death. Use patience to subdue the fire of anger; only then can the Dharma Body—the pure nature realized by a practitioner—appear in emptiness and stillness. Let the Seven Emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire—settle as thoughts subside. The ancients praised those who could endure every kind of humiliation. Willingly bearing the karmic consequences one is due is what allows a person to escape calamity and break free from the bonds of reincarnation.

Every karmic obstruction is formed from causes and conditions in the past, and debts incurred must eventually be repaid. When ignorant people suffer a loss, they burn with anger, and resentments and debts accumulate like a dark fog. The most important thing in practice is to give up the urge to take advantage of others: if I gain at someone else’s expense, they will often refuse to let the matter rest. After enduring calamities, one may still drift in misery; if resentments cannot be resolved, even a pure sanctuary can become full of disputes. If you do not cling to right and wrong, heaven and earth open wide. Immortals and asuras—contentious nonhuman beings—follow two different paths. A cool, peaceful land of blessing is attained through great patience; repaying the debt incurred through humiliation completes one’s cultivation of the Dao. Now that this ordinary human body has embarked on the path of cultivation, why refuse to accept a small loss? Anger that blazes skyward, setting the whole body aflame, can bring the calamity of losing one’s proper place and suffering like a hungry ghost.

Eight. Purifying Body and Mind

Since you have received the precepts and taken refuge—turning toward the Dao and following the disciplines of practice—you should devote yourself to seeking the transcendent Dao and escaping life and death. Those truly beyond life and death, who have reached the transcendent realm, cultivate the supreme Dao of neither birth nor death. This Dao transforms body and mind through the teachings of the world. At its root, there is no fixed “teaching” to grasp.

The teachings of the world and those beyond it differ only in how the mind is used in a single thought: one may follow the current or move against it, but in reality they are the same teaching. “Moving against the current within what follows it” means that the myriad teachings return to the Dao of Wuwei (non-action), whose subtle workings even ghosts and spirits cannot fathom. “Following the current within what moves against it” means that the One Teaching unfolds into the myriad teachings, whose transformations of Yin-Yang cannot be fully calculated. This does not mean deliberately arranging or analyzing things with the mind. It means wisdom and clear understanding: this is simply how things are, and there is no separate teaching reserved for transcendence.

Even so, if you say you will go beyond the world, who is it that goes beyond? In the end, that person would still have to be taken outside the world for this to count as transcendence. In truth, this way of speaking also fails.

Now let us speak of encouraging people to transcend the world. Heaven and earth are vast, and the world is wide, yet none of these can be called “beyond the world.” Listen carefully: “Beyond the world” means going beyond worldly ways. See clearly that the many things of the world are not real, that emotional attachments are like illusions, and that all things shaped by deliberate action are like dreams. Though all things seem to have their own existence, none has an enduring, unchanging reality. Only when the mind returns to purity can one transcend the world.

How do we know that a pure mind can transcend the world? Heaven changes between clear and cloudy skies and moves without ceasing, yet this is not transcendence. The earth can crack and collapse, but that is not transcendence either. The sun and moon wax and wane; stars fall. Wind and clouds, thunder and rain, frost and snow, mist and dew each have their appointed span. Mountains crumble, stones are chipped away, waters dry up, plants and trees wither, and even gold and jade are damaged. None of these is transcendence. People live and die; all things flourish and decline; feelings grow stronger or weaker; breath comes and goes; thoughts arise and subside; essence and vital energy are depleted; the spirit grows dull and scattered; power rises and falls; and gains increase or diminish. None of these is transcendence. All things shaped by deliberate action are subject to the changes of formation, continuation, dissolution, and decay, as well as birth, aging, illness, and death. How could any of this be called transcendence?

You should discover, within the world, the way to transcend it. This way lies not in saying much, but in letting the mind return to its original nature. Once you know that heaven and earth, all things, human affairs, and worldly relationships are not the way to transcendence, you should understand that they still belong to the world. If you awaken to this within your own mind, see through the impermanence of heaven and earth and all things, and recognize that worldly ways and human relationships are like illusions, then you can realize your true, luminous nature. It has no form or appearance, no smell or sound. To say it is within would be to say too little; to say it is without would be to make it seem as though it came from outside. Everyone possesses it, and all things are contained within it. To realize this nature is the way to transcend the world; one who does so may be called a “Dharma King,” one who understands the true teaching and is free and unobstructed.

Everyone, the true spiritual awareness inherent in each person is the root that encompasses all things. It runs through past and present and extends throughout the universe, present everywhere and at all times, beyond the ordinary. Buddhism calls it the “wondrously clear true mind”; Confucianism calls it “bright Virtue and supreme goodness”; Daoism calls it the “perfectly radiant Dao Mother,” and also the “primordial Qi” (the original breath from which all things arise). It has many other names, too many to list.

This spiritual awareness can know the myriad things of Heaven and Earth, as well as the ways of human life. Where can it be found? In what the Great Learning says: “illuminating bright Virtue and abiding in supreme goodness.” This “bright Virtue and supreme goodness” resides in true spiritual awareness. It passes through the universe’s formation, continuance, emptiness, and destruction, and through human birth, aging, illness, and death, yet it is itself free from illness and death. It has existed from ancient times to the present, ever clear and undeluded. It reaches upward to the heavens and downward to the Earth, and can enter and leave the underworld. It is unborn and unchanging, neither increasing nor diminishing, neither deficient nor excessive; it neither comes nor goes.

It can set Yin-Yang in motion without being bound by Yin-Yang; subdue ghosts and spirits without being troubled by them; make use of the myriad things without being ruled by them; respond to human affairs without being moved by them; and deal with worldly conventions without becoming immersed in them. It can transcend the world and also dwell within it. It moves freely through the Three Realms—the desire realm, the form realm, and the formless realm—without constraint. It encompasses all spiritual beings, transforms in wondrous and mysterious ways, and cannot be fathomed. Between Heaven and Earth, nothing is more honored, and nothing can compare with it.

Everyone possesses this true numinous awareness, yet few truly understand it. All kinds of paths of cultivation, as well as Buddhism’s Three Vehicles—the śrāvaka, pratyekabuddha, and bodhisattva paths—and its scriptures and teachings, arise from it. The subtle workings and mysterious principles of these teachings are right before us when we realize them; when we lose sight of them, they seem buried in the depths of the sea.

Everyone, cultivation that transcends the world cannot be separated from “body” and “mind.” The body is a temporary appearance; the mind is real. Yet the mind, too, is only a temporary support. A person’s innate nature is the true root, so one must understand how to use the illusory body and mind to cultivate true nature. Outwardly there is a form that exists for a time; inwardly, all returns to emptiness.

To transcend the world through cultivation, one must understand that both the body and the mind are involved. The body is borrowed for a time, while the mind is relatively real. Yet the mind, too, has an illusory aspect. What is truly fundamental is one’s nature—the original, true nature. So understand this: one should use what is temporary to cultivate and realize what is real.

Though the outer body is illusory, the inner true nature is real. The outer form has shape and color, while the inner nature is empty and still. Without relying on this form-bound body, it is difficult to cultivate the inner Wuwei (non-action) Dharma body, a state that transcends the flesh and embodies one’s true nature. Without undergoing birth, aging, illness, and death, it is also difficult to experience a mind that is clear and settled, complete and without deficiency. And without relying on the mind’s numinous vitality, it is difficult to transcend and realize the vast, boundless nature.

Yet this nature is inborn. At birth, before it has been stained by anything, it is one with the Great Void, vast and boundless, and equal to it in size. It is empty and still, yet perfectly integrated and complete, containing all things.

Listeners, if you now wish to transcend the world, you must first bring body and mind to purity. How can this be done? The human body is made up of Qi and blood, which inevitably decline; the body is therefore also a source of birth and death, misfortune, and harm. It entangles the mind and spirit and damages one’s original nature. Lusting after beauty and indulging in sexual desire serve the body’s craving for pleasure; contending for fame and profit serves its pursuit of comfort. Breaking the law and suffering punishment, or inviting disaster and illness, may all arise from craving bodily pleasure.

The Daode Jing says, “The reason people suffer misfortune is that they have this body. If I had no body, what misfortune could I suffer?” The ancients also said, “When a person is no longer burdened by bodily form, the Great Luo Immortal—the Daoist name for a being of the highest rank—stands before them.” This shows that attachment to the body brings many troubles.

We should therefore see through this fleshly shell as a temporary, illusory gathering of elements such as earth, water, and wind. Yet if we are not speaking of complete spiritual cultivation, but simply urging people to be filial, then we must say this: our bodies and hair come from our parents and should not be carelessly harmed. The human form takes shape from the father’s Jing and the mother’s blood, receiving the vital energies of Heaven and Earth and the transformations of Yin-Yang. The round head symbolizes Heaven, and the square feet symbolize Earth. Standing between them, humans join Heaven and Earth as the “Three Powers” (Heaven, Earth, and humanity). Of all beings, humans are the most noble: above, they can accord with Heaven and Earth; in the unseen realm, they can assist spirits and deities. Through learning, they can aspire to the state of sages and worthies; through cultivation, they can become immortals and Buddhas. How, then, could such a precious body be regarded as filthy and useless?

These words counsel disciples who have received the precepts: do not resign yourselves to decline, and do not lose your way amid worldly customs. Do not seek comfort and pleasure for the flesh alone; instead, let your true nature return to the eternal Dao. Let your will command Yin-Yang, and let body and spirit become dignified and full, extending throughout the Dharma Realm—the realm of all existence in Buddhism and Daoism. If the Dharma body, the body realized through cultivation that transcends ordinary physical form, still has deficiencies, one cannot attain the state in which form and spirit are both wondrous and one is united with the Dao in truth.

Everyone, I will now explain how to cultivate purity and stillness. To purify body and mind, first set aside worldly affairs, distance yourself from worldly desires, and stop acting according to worldly ways. Be content with a plain and simple life, and take pleasure in quiet and ease. Avoid rich, strongly flavored foods and keep away from noise and commotion.

Take refuge in the Three Jewels—the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha—and devote yourself to upholding the single, pure Way. Nurture a calm disposition and conduct yourself with dignity and composure. Do not let your eyes or ears turn toward what is improper; keep your thoughts from scattering. Do not deliberately stir up thoughts and deliberations, or speak in a loud voice. Gather the spirit of your eyes and turn your gaze inward, allowing your mind and spirit to become clear. Draw in the perceptions of your ears and listen inwardly, as though hearing the sounds of nature. Speak less and be silent more, letting body and mind return to their natural, settled state.

Let no regret or worry remain in your heart; do not let your thoughts drift or wander, and do not let your spirit grow agitated. Then your innate spiritual capacity can flow freely, and the deepest principles can come together in complete understanding. Abstain from meat and pungent foods to lessen the karmic consequences accumulated through killing in past lives. Keep the precepts in your bodily conduct, quietly putting proper comportment into practice in daily life. When your steps are orderly, your mind will not be unsettled; when your hands do not move heedlessly, your mind will not grow restless. Sit upright without leaning, and when lying down, remain alert and avoid excessive sleep. Eat plain food and reduce strong flavors to bring the Five Viscera into harmony. Speak carefully and calmly, with a gentle, steady voice.

These practices, which begin with daily conduct, are called “purifying the body.” More refined cultivation lies in investigating the meaning of the two words “purity and stillness.” I ask only that you truly give these words your attention and put them into practice. If you investigate them wholeheartedly and cultivate them in earnest, you need not worry that you will fail to attain the Dao.

For the general reader: When the heart holds no two thoughts pulling against each other, this is called “clarity.” When thoughts are free of confusion and disorder, this is called “stillness.” When the heart does not cling to outward forms, this is called “clarity.” When thought does not sink into stagnation, this is called “stillness.” When every thought is harmonious and lucid, this is called “clarity.” When the heart is bright and open, with nothing obstructing it, this is called “stillness.”

When the heart is unstained by dust and defilement, this is called “clarity.” When every worry has been set aside, this is called “stillness.” When the forms of all things can no longer remain hidden, this is called “clarity.” When even ghosts and spirits cannot glimpse their subtle workings, this is called “stillness.” When the heart flows freely like water, this is called “clarity.” When one’s nature is pure and bright like the full moon, this is called “stillness.” When karmic offenses accumulated since beginningless time are dissolved, this is called “clarity.” When the causes and conditions built up over many eons are completely brought to an end, this is called “stillness.”

When you turn inward to contemplate your own heart and discover that there is no fixed, unchanging “heart,” this is called “clarity.” When you look outward at all things and discover that they, too, have no fixed, unchanging substance, this is called “stillness.” When you understand these three aspects, this is called “clarity.” When you see only that everything returns to emptiness, this is called “stillness.” When you observe that emptiness itself is empty, this is called “clarity.” When there is nothing in emptiness to cling to, this is called “stillness.” When even the things emptied away do not exist, and even “nonbeing” is no more, this is called “clarity.” When there is clear awareness and constant stillness, with no way to cling even to “stillness,” this is called “stillness.”

When you meet all things with a heart that is constant and true, this is called “clarity.” When you respond to each situation while the heart remains at peace, this is called “stillness.” When you are transparent and bright, untouched by obscuration, this is called “clarity.” When from this you enter the many mysterious gates of the Dharma, this is called “stillness.” When you transcend the Three Realms—the desire realm, the form realm, and the formless realm—this is called “clarity.” When you escape the constraints of the Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—this is called “stillness.” When space seems to shatter, this is called “clarity.” When you let go even of the state of “shattering space,” this is called “stillness.” When radiance embraces and illuminates the heavens, this is called “clarity.” When you universally save living beings, this is called “stillness.”

Everyone, I will take this opportunity to offer a brief account of the essentials of cultivating the Dao. The teachings of the sages of the Three Teachings, the contents of the Buddhist canon, the many arts and paths of cultivation, the wondrous visions of the heavens, the thirty-six thousand methods of the Dao, the eighty-four thousand Dharma gates, the bodhisattvas as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, and the countless Golden Immortals all depend on the subtle method of clarity and stillness, meditative concentration and wisdom, and Wuwei (non-action).

The supreme, utterly true and unsurpassed Great Dao created Heaven and Earth and brought forth humanity and all things; all arise from clarity and stillness. The Supreme One said, “If people can constantly preserve clarity and stillness, Heaven, Earth, and all things will return to the right course.” He also said, “When there is clarity and stillness, the world can be at peace.” From this we can see that by purifying body and mind, one can awaken sooner.

Everyone, from today onward, you should set aside the lead-and-mercury, dragon-and-tiger, Yin-Yang, and other refining metaphors that you have been attached to in the past. Follow only this path of clarity and stillness: dispel deluded thoughts, quiet misguided notions, and steadily cultivate along the centered, correct path. This will not hinder your cultivation of the Dao; it will only keep you from going astray. The scripture says: If I deceive you with empty words, may I willingly fall into hell.

At that time, the precept master, a teacher who expounded the rules of discipline, spoke this verse:

When scattered thoughts arise, the mind is not still; when dust and grime accumulate, body and mind are not pure. If body and mind are impure, it is difficult to see one’s original nature; if the mind is unsettled, how can one understand one’s true nature? Turn your gaze inward: the body is an illusion. Reflect back on the mind: the mind, too, is empty by nature. In the emptiness of mind, spiritual awareness appears of itself. Concentration and wisdom are the true essence of the teaching. Observe the movements of the sun and moon, and put the Great Dao into practice in daily life. Cultivate by turning back the direction in which the Dipper’s handle points, so that the mind becomes still and accords with the Way of Heaven.

Nine: Seeking a Teacher and Asking About the Dao

Since ancient times, sages, immortals, and Buddhas have relied on a master’s guidance to attain spiritual realization and awaken to truth. Thus, the path of cultivation has been passed down from generation to generation through the master and disciple’s spoken instruction, transmission from heart to heart, and mutual understanding. Though its principles are many, their foundation is consistent and interconnected. When master and disciple are of one heart, they are like milk and water blending together, or glue and lacquer binding fast. Their aims accord and they respond to one another, like water meeting sky or lights reflecting one another. In this way, the bond of duty between master and disciple can be fully realized.

Everyone, I see many people in the world seeking a master and asking about the Dao, but many of them do not conduct themselves properly. They have only the formal title of master and disciple, without the substance of transmitting the Dao. So today, without fearing the effort of speaking at length or the criticism it may bring, I will explain the principles of seeking a master and asking about the Dao. Keep this in mind: when you first become someone’s disciple, observe these rites. Later, when you become a master, your disciples will be able to follow the example of the ancients and learn from those who came before. Only by respecting your master can you value the Dao that the master transmits.

Among you, there are some ignorant people in this world who do not know their own original nature and whose thoughts are always pulled along by external things. Though they long to cultivate the Dao, they do not know how to distinguish the true way from false ones. Though they have the desire to cultivate the Dao, they do not understand the proper methods of practice.

They hear people say, “Nature is realized through one’s own insight; the cultivation of life depends on a teacher’s transmission” (in cultivating nature and life, one must realize the principles of nature for oneself, while work on life requires a teacher’s lineage), and then act according to these two sayings. Sometimes they encounter a Daoist who has come from afar, wearing a worn-out monk’s robe and straw sandals, holding a palm-leaf fan and carrying a meditation cushion on his shoulder as he passes through towns. Some sit down by the roadside and beg for vegetarian food with a gourd; others stroll leisurely along the road. They lodge in Daoist temples when they come to them, and stay in Buddhist temples when they find them. As soon as they open their mouths, they talk about formulas for cultivation, spinning out grand and marvelous claims.

They speak of the “one aperture of the Mysterious Pass” (a crucial point in Neidan practice), the Caudal Gate, the Sea Bottom, the Muddy Pellet Palace (a Neidan term for a part of the head), and the Yongquan point (an acupuncture point on the sole of the foot). They also speak of guarding the center and raising Qi, setting up the cauldron and establishing the furnace (Neidan expressions for concentrating the spirit and directing the breath), prolonging life and curing illness, and massage and Daoyin (physical practices involving massage and regulated breathing). They discuss health practices such as the Six Healing Sounds and the Eight Brocades, as well as Daoist alchemical texts such as the Wuzhen pian and the Cantong qi. They invoke the metaphors found in alchemical writings: lead and mercury, dragon and tiger, the silver-sand couple, the trigrams and lines of the sun and moon, and the nurturing of the tortoise and snake. They also speak of bathing and forming the embryo, entering the chamber and sitting in perfection, releasing the yin spirit, and releasing the yang spirit. The heterodox arts and methods are too numerous to count.

How can people who lack discernment in their hearts tell what is true and false, or recognize the proper path and the deviant one? So they believe these Daoists. Even more contemptible are those who speak of the “cauldron and vessel” method (a heretical doctrine that uses sexual intercourse between men and women as a form of cultivation), or who swindle people under the pretext of refining “moss silver.” They use sexual desire to delude people and money to tempt them. Even if such methods really existed, ordinary people could not use them to turn stone into gold, and the lustful could not use them to prolong their lives.

Those who speak of the cauldron and vessel see a woman and give way to improper thoughts; confronted by desire, their hearts are moved. Their spirit and soul become scattered, the so-called “true mercury” (a Neidan term for the mind-spirit or vital essence) is lost, their innate foundation is damaged, and their precious Jing and Qi are depleted. They often end up afflicted with illness. Far from carrying on the cultivation of nature and life, they destroy its very foundation. This is truly contemptible and pitiful.

As for the swindlers who claim to refine moss silver, they talk of sand and ore, saying that after repeated refining, nurturing, and transformation, they can produce silver. They spin endless deceptions, and ignorant, greedy people often lose everything as a result. The crimes of these swindlers are several times worse than those of the Daoists mentioned earlier. The author cannot bear to say more, lest he invite slander.

Now that you have received the precepts, you should listen as I explain the general principles for seeking a teacher and asking about the Dao.

Everyone, the Supreme Way of Heaven is indistinct and elusive, remote and profound. It is vast, lofty, and exalted, yet subtle, hidden, and unfathomable. It is so great that it has no bounds, and so small that it has no interior. It penetrates Heaven and Earth and passes in and out of the netherworld. It seems to exist, yet also seems not to exist. It cannot be soaked when it enters water, nor consumed when it enters fire. It existed before all things, past and present; it gave birth to Heaven and Earth, set the sun and moon in motion, nourished the myriad things, and gave rise to sages, immortals, and Buddhas. All living creatures, insects, and plants depend on it; there is no person or place that does not contain it. Everything in daily life, too, reveals the wondrous Dao.

Yet ordinary people make use of it every day without understanding its principle. Those with shallow insight are confused in mind and spirit and cannot grasp it. Thus they lose their innate nature, and even after enduring countless kalpas, they remain unable to understand. Before a person is born of their parents, they do not know where their true spirit came from; after their spirit leaves the body, they do not know where this body will return. So they are caught in a cycle of inversion and rebirth, suffering the anguish of life and death. Therefore, I point out the source and urge people to seek a true master without delay, and to hear the Supreme Way while there is still time.

Yet true masters are hard to meet, and disciples of deep capacity are just as rare. Know that if a disciple lacks a sincere aspiration to transcend the world, their innate wisdom will be obscured. Even if they meet a true master, they may be obstructed by ghosts and spirits and fail to turn their hearts toward the Dao, remaining trapped in the anguish of life and death.

A true teacher is difficult to encounter, and a disciple of exceptional capacity is just as hard to find. A disciple without a sincere wish to seek the Dao and transcend the world will have their innate wisdom obscured. Even if they meet a true teacher, spirits may prevent them from meeting at all or cloud their wisdom, so that even face to face they fail to recognize the teacher’s true nature.

If a teacher lacks the wish to save and guide others, they may fail to recognize an excellent disciple even when one appears before them. Spirits may cloud the teacher’s Dharma eye—the ability to discern a person’s capacity and timing for cultivation—so that they cannot see the bond between them. As a result, many miss one another even when they meet.

Everyone, for a teacher to find a disciple is like casting a mustard seed through the eye of a needle; for a disciple to seek out a teacher is like trying to scoop the moon from water. A true teacher is hard to find, and an excellent disciple is hard to seek out. The key lies not in wealth or possessions, but in a single thought of sincerity. Have you ever seen a teacher of the Dao casually pass its methods to someone unsuitable? Or a truly discerning seeker of the Dao carelessly take a teacher?

A teacher who does not teach indiscriminately cherishes the Great Dao and is searching for a suitable disciple. A disciple who does not take a teacher carelessly shows discernment, seeking the Dao with caution and focus. If people who are neither quick to commit to a teacher nor blind in choosing one can set aside the obstacles in their hearts and resolve to seek the Dao amid the ordinary world, broadening their perspective and opening their hearts, then when they meet a teacher of the Dao they will naturally see clearly and recognize them. A word or two from the teacher will be like a mustard seed passing through the eye of a needle: the two will be in perfect accord.

Likewise, when teachers who do not take disciples casually or teach lightly meet a discerning disciple like this, how could they not be glad to meet and speak freely about the principles of the Dao? They will pass on to the disciple subtle oral formulas, the true meaning of the scriptures, the hidden mysteries and profound secrets of Heaven, and the principles by which the Great Dao is transmitted from heart to heart and celestial writings are taught by word of mouth.

True teachers are not rare, and neither are disciples. I will now explain what it means to say that “true teachers are not rare”: anything encountered by the six faculties—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—may serve as a true teacher. For example, if your ears hear words that are beneficial, and you act on those good words with genuine conviction, then the faculty of hearing is the teacher that leads you to the gate, while those words are the teacher that transmits the Dao (the Way). The same is true of the other five faculties.

Learning has no fixed teacher; only the Dao is the ultimate teacher. Whenever you hear beneficial words, listen with focused attention, as if sweet dew were nourishing your heart or clarified butter were poured over your head—a metaphor for receiving insight and suddenly awakening. Inwardly, give thanks to the speaker for dispelling your ignorance and confusion and guiding you with compassion and skillful means. May those who proclaim good words soon realize the wondrous work and attain the supreme Dao. Is this not the bond between teacher and disciple?

If you encounter various classics, including the writings, sacred words, and secret teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, and gain insight from them, you should bow and praise them. Texts enable you to recognize truth and strengthen your faith, helping you attain the supreme Dao. Does this not also count as a meeting between teacher and disciple?

A master guides a disciple in many ways, like a compassionate vessel ferrying people across and a bridge to the Dharma. Mencius said, “There are many ways to teach: some help people cultivate Virtue, some develop their abilities, some answer their questions, and some help them cultivate themselves through private admiration and emulation. All of these are forms of instruction.” Thus, some people meet and immediately feel a mutual affinity; some have known each other for a long time yet continue to treat each other with the deference of a first meeting; some receive a transmission only after bowing and kneeling; and others first demonstrate their sincerity with fasting offerings—property used for a Zhaijiao purification ritual or as an offering—and an oath, and only then receive instruction. Reverence is the beginning of ritual propriety, but outward deference without sincerity in the heart is not true reverence. What matters is whether the disciple is sincere, steadfast in practice, and honors the teacher and the Dao.

Some masters repeatedly test their disciples before transmitting teachings, as Yunfang—the legendary Zhongli Quan—is said to have tested Lü Dongbin ten times. Others will meet a disciple only after the disciple has humbled himself, as Liu Xuande (Liu Bei) did when he visited Zhuge Liang three times at his thatched cottage. Some follow their masters for years without ever abandoning their original resolve; others, though they know a disciple is sincere, deliberately set many difficult trials. Transmitting the Dao and teaching a discipline are no small matters. How could they be easy to obtain?

For this reason, some Daoist methods must not be spoken of carelessly. The saying “three mouths do not speak it; six ears do not transmit it” means that transmission must be handled with care and never divulged lightly. The highest teachings of the Dao should not be passed on to those whose capacity is still shallow; simpler teachings are likewise unsuitable for those with exceptionally deep insight. Instruction should be adapted to each person.

In the Confucian school, Ran You asked, “When I hear something, should I put it into practice at once?” Confucius replied, “When you hear it, put it into practice.” Zilu asked the same question, but Confucius answered, “With your father and elder brothers still alive, how can you put it into practice as soon as you hear it?” Ran You tended to hesitate in action, so Confucius encouraged him to move forward; Zilu was too eager to act, so Confucius urged him to slow down. Their situations were different, and the guidance given to one cannot simply be applied to the other. When Gong Xihua heard Confucius give them different answers, he was puzzled. Many of Confucius’s disciples asked about benevolence, and Confucius answered each of them differently for the same reason. If one person sincerely believes and accepts a teaching while another merely happens to hear it, the teaching may be given to the first, but should not be casually disclosed to the second. Thus it is said: “Do not treat something easily obtained as though it were ordinary.”

When teaching the Dao, even among hundreds or thousands of people, the wise may grasp it quickly, while those of limited capacity may find it difficult to put into practice. If one merely recites loudly and explains profound principles plainly, someone eager to learn but lacking the right opportunity may hear the words as though the wind were passing by their ears, taking them for ordinary talk.

Shakyamuni Buddha once held up a flower before the assembly and said, “I have the subtle, clear true nature, the wondrous mind of Nirvana, and the treasury of the true Dharma eye—the right view and mind-seal of the Buddhist teaching. Can you see them?” Only Venerable Kashyapa held up a flower and smiled, understanding what was meant. Shakyamuni and Kashyapa appeared to signal one another openly before the assembly, but in truth they were transmitting the Way in secret, sealing mind with mind and passing it from mouth to ear. Many of the listeners seated below did not know what was being transmitted or what they themselves had received.

Confucius, that great sage, once said to Zengzi in front of many worthy disciples, “Shen, my Way can be brought together by one fundamental principle.” Zengzi replied, “Yes.” There were many disciples present. Confucius transmitted the Way before them all, and Zengzi grasped its principle among the other students. If people do not recognize their own mind, then even hearing the teaching with their own ears is like never having encountered it; they still do not know what was transmitted or what they understood. Zengzi understood his own nature deeply, and so his mind naturally accorded with the sage’s intention.

Long ago, the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan went to Mount Kongtong to seek the Dao from Guangchengzi. He made earnest requests again and again, but Guangchengzi did not respond. The Yellow Emperor withdrew, observed purification and cultivated stillness, and lived in seclusion for three months. Then he returned, humbly making his way on his knees to Guangchengzi and respectfully asking about the essentials of the utmost Dao. Only then did Guangchengzi reply: “The subtlety of the utmost Dao is profound and obscure; its ultimate reaches are undifferentiated and still. Do not look; do not listen. Gather in your spirit and quietly guard Shen. Your body will naturally become upright. Be sure to remain still and clear. Do not wear out your body or let your thoughts race about in confusion; only then can you endure. Be cautious toward the outside world and restrain your inner self. Excessive cleverness brings ruin. I hold fast to the root and dwell in peace and stillness; that is why I have not aged in twelve hundred years.”

These were the clear, direct words Guangchengzi spoke to him face to face. After that, he said no more. Whether you choose to put them into practice is up to you; whether you choose not to is also up to you. This is called each person fulfilling their own Way.

Fellow practitioners, within our Daoist tradition there are many subtle teachings, such as the Daodejing and the Nanhua Jing, as well as revealed words of truth such as the Chongxu Jing and the Wenshi Jing. There are also the Three Caverns and Four Supplements, a system for classifying Daoist scriptures, and the thirty-six divisions of scripture. Our canon is vast. Who can quiet the ear, listen with full attention to the mysteries of the sacred scriptures, and broaden the vision to grasp the Great Dao beyond written words and speech? Without such understanding, the heart will not become clear. Even when you meet a truly enlightened master, you will not recognize them.

Before seeking a teacher, turn first to examine yourself. Before asking others about the Dao, question your own heart. If you do not cultivate in accordance with the precepts, it will be difficult to meet a teacher who can transmit and verify the Daoist methods. The most important thing is this: be humble and respectful. First rid yourself entirely of arrogance and treat others with gentleness and deference. Also remove, one by one, thoughts of slander and envy. Do not boast of your abilities when you meet people. Stay alert: someone else may be just as capable as you. If you encounter a discerning expert, or someone whose mind is quiet and whose resolve is firm, they may reach the heart of the matter in only a sentence or two. How then could you argue your way out? At that point, the truth will emerge on its own, and those who understand people will not be deceived.

I urge you all: seeking a teacher and asking about the Dao is no casual matter. It is not enough to bow a few times before asking for guidance and call someone “Master” a few times. These days, precept-taking disciples who slight their teachers and neglect the Daoist methods are all too common. You should quickly reflect on yourselves, repent before the Patriarchs of past generations for your arrogance and disrespect, change your old habits, and honor the Dharma Treasures—the scriptures and methods cherished in the Daoist tradition. If you are truly sincere and earnestly seek an enlightened master, Heaven will not disappoint you, and the immortals who have attained the Dao will appear when the proper conditions arise. There is no need to insist on meeting them at any particular place or time.

Listen to this verse, composed to illuminate the Dao:

In seeking a teacher, restrain yourself; in asking about the Dao, be sincere. Only with earnest sincerity can you grasp its principles; with a single-minded heart, you will meet the right conditions. Such conditions are rare across ten thousand kalpas; only after a thousand lifetimes may you have the chance to encounter them in this life. If you can understand what I have said, you will suddenly awaken to the root of your original state, before birth.

Those who have just received the Ten Precepts of Initial Truth (the introductory precepts), if they wish to proceed to the Precepts of the Central Ultimate, must first diligently observe the subtle practices of the Ten Precepts of Initial Truth. Only then may they receive the Three Hundred Great Precepts of the Central Ultimate.

What is the difference between the Precepts of the Central Ultimate and the Precepts of Initial Truth? In principle, one precept contains all precepts, just as one truth contains all truth. If so, why are there stages—Initial Truth, then the Central Ultimate, and then the Precepts of the Celestial Immortals? The reason is clear. The Ten Precepts of Initial Truth teach people to govern their bodily conduct, so that they do not act rashly or behave improperly. The Three Hundred Great Precepts of the Central Ultimate teach people to subdue a stubborn mind, so that their thoughts do not run wild and their intentions do not waver. The Wondrous Precepts of the Celestial Immortals teach people to free themselves from true intent, so that they do not become attached or entangled.

The Precepts of Initial Truth are relatively broad and basic, while those of the Central Ultimate are more subtle and exacting. The Precepts of Initial Truth govern the six outer sense faculties—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind. The Precepts of the Central Ultimate clear away the six objects of sense that the mind encounters and forms: forms, sounds, scents, tastes, touch, and mental objects. The Wondrous Precepts of the Celestial Immortals free the three bodies—the three bodies described in cultivation practice—dissolve the eight consciousnesses, a classification of mental activity in Buddhist and Daoist cultivation theory, and prevent the nine demons and ten trials from causing disturbance.

Everyone, the Precepts for Beginners—the rules you receive when first entering the Quanzhen tradition—are given because you have awakened to your former mistakes and deeply regret your past conduct. You have also reflected that human life is brief, time is limited, and the changes between life and death are beyond our control. Since you left home to become Daoist priests, you have been called Quanzhen, “Complete Perfection.”

Think carefully: since leaving home, on how many days have you truly lived up to “Complete Perfection”? You have let the whole year pass in vain, growing old just like ordinary people. You spend your days crossing mountains and rivers, rushing from place to place. Though you have paid homage at several famous mountains, you have only seen more rocks and trees than ordinary people. In the end, this hardship is no different from the ceaseless travel of merchants. Why endure meals in the wind and nights in the open? Have you ever encountered an immortal?

Those who pass on formulas merely repeat what ordinary people have handed down from one to another. With their mortal eyes and bodies, they may not understand the true meaning of refining the Elixir at all.