《紫清指玄集》

The principles of cultivating the Dao (the Way) can often be made clear in a sentence or two; one need not depend on tens of thousands of alchemical writings. If a person is not entangled by the body and by desire, the Daluo Heaven—the supreme immortal realm spoken of in Daoism—can appear before the eyes. If one wishes to refine and nurture body and spirit, one must understand how to return to the root and restore life. The so-called “aperture of returning to the root” and “pass of restoring life” are precisely the crucial point by which a person returns to the source of life. Once this point is truly understood, returning to the root and restoring life is no longer difficult.

From emptiness and nonbeing arises spontaneity; from spontaneity arises the Great Dao; from the Great Dao arises the One Qi (vital energy). The One Qi divides into Yin-Yang; Yin-Yang form Heaven and Earth; and Heaven and Earth transform and give birth to the myriad things. This is the foundation of creation and transformation, the Qi of True Unity that precedes the appearance of all phenomena. It is vast without limit and deep beyond fathoming: at its greatest it embraces Heaven and Earth, and at its smallest it enters the tip of a hair. It cannot be named accurately in words, so the sages could only call it, reluctantly, the “Dao.” Mind and Dao correspond to one another: when the mind does not cling, it can unite with the Dao; when the mind clings to something, it turns away from the Dao.

“Nonbeing” can contain all that exists and continually transform and generate the myriad things. Heaven and Earth can govern what has form, but not what is formless. Yin and Yang can govern what has Qi, but not what is without Qi. The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) can govern what has a fixed allotment, but not what has none. Scattered thoughts can govern what is conscious, but not what is without consciousness. In cultivation, therefore, one may begin with refining the body. The key to refining the body lies in concentrating Shen (spirit): when Shen gathers, Qi assembles; when Qi assembles, the elixir forms; when the elixir forms, the body becomes firm; and when the body is firm, spirit is complete.

Perfected Master Tan said, “Forget the body in order to nurture Qi; forget Qi in order to nurture Shen; forget Shen in order to nurture emptiness.” Here “forgetting” means clinging to nothing at all, just as the saying has it: “Originally there is not a single thing; where, then, could dust settle?” If one can grasp this and work at the word “forget,” one can enter the subtle depths of the Great Dao, apply the wondrous principle of spontaneity, and set the process of creation turning within oneself.

The Dao cannot be seen or heard and seems silent, still, and empty; yet if one examines it attentively, its semblance and its faint stirring can be felt. When a cultivator gathers the mind, concentrates spirit, and reaches emptiness and stillness, the state called “the empty chamber gives birth to brightness” appears, and clarity and luminosity arise of themselves. The Most High takes Heaven and Earth as cauldron and furnace, and the sun and moon as medicinal substances: the course of the sun corresponds to the rising and falling of Qi and blood; the waxing and waning of the moon corresponds to the flourishing and decline of spirit; the seasons and their nodal periods correspond to the hours of a single day; and the stars of the celestial circuit correspond to the changes within the furnace. The cultivator gathers spirit to serve as the medicine and takes stillness and concentration as the firing process, using their power to refine and nurture spirit. This is called the Great Reverted Elixir of Golden Liquid.

The meeting of Yin and Yang and the mutual aid of water and fire are important images in Neidan (internal alchemy). In cultivation one must distinguish what floats from what sinks, and host from guest; one must grasp the timing of extraction and replenishment, and also attend to safety and danger amid change. Gao Xiangxian said that gathering and refining have their proper times, and taking and using have their proper days. Liu Haichan said that one must master the pattern by which Heaven and Earth open, close, and transform, and refine one’s own sun and moon within the furnace. If these metaphors are understood, cultivation can follow the movement of the sun and moon and correspond to the creative work of Heaven and Earth. Heaven and Earth have neither form nor body, yet they endure in motion; the sun and moon shine without cease, and for this reason the Qi of True Unity is also said to abide constantly in the void.

The author says that he models himself on the working of Heaven and Earth: the mind is neither occupied with affairs nor attached to “having no affairs.” Looking inward, the mind must not be grasped as something solidly real; looking outward, the body must not be grasped as solidly real either; looking afar at the myriad things, they likewise must not be grasped as solidly real. In this way one passes beyond every illusion and reveals a luminous spiritual nature that stands alone. An ancient scripture says, “I was generated in emptiness and placed in nonbeing.” One should therefore return to the root of nature and life, going back to the primordial condition before birth: the mind is stored within the mind and does not show itself, and Shen is stored within Shen and does not run outward.

One can then connect past, present, and future, quiet every conditioned concern, purify the senses, and leave the mind empty and bright, clinging neither to emptiness nor to nonbeing. When even “emptiness” and “nonbeing” are no longer clung to, the inner mind is pure and at ease, and spiritual nature appears of itself. The Dao does not appear because one deliberately pursues the void; when a person can empty the mind, the Dao returns naturally. The Dao is originally nameless. It cannot be seized from nearby, nor cast aside from afar. It has no fixed direction, shape, or division of inside and outside; only the sage can realize it.

Lord Lao said, “The space between Heaven and Earth—is it not just like a bellows? Empty, yet never exhausted: the more it is worked, the more the breath of air.” In stillness and concentration the cultivator preserves a harmonious Qi and guards the Jing (essence) of True Unity, just as one seals the elixir furnace and refines the elixir according to the firing times. Fire corresponds to the Li trigram of the south, and also to the human mind and Shen; Qi is like the medicine. To refine the medicine with fire is to have Shen govern Qi, and thereby to cultivate the Great Dao.

If a person can hold sun and moon, Heaven and Earth, together within the mind, the inner movements indicated by Neidan terms such as the opening and closing of the bellows and the ascent and descent of the river chariot can be understood. The scripture then uses images such as “water succoring the Palace of Destiny,” “fire bathing the Elixir Terrace,” the joining of metal and wood, and the blending of water and earth to describe the harmonizing of Yin and Yang Qi within the body. Names such as the Lovely Maiden, the Metal Elder, the Azure Dragon, and the White Tiger are all terms used in Neidan texts to symbolize the Qi of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases, while “the Three Passes,” “the Elixir Terrace,” and the like refer to bodily sites or channels of Qi movement spoken of in cultivation. The scripture says that when Yin and Yang meet and water and fire unite, it is like the fitting together of a seal and its counterpart: it happens of itself and need not be forced.

Within this picture of cultivation, scenes such as white snow, yellow sprouts, the dragon’s chant and the tiger’s roar, and the shaking of thunder and lightning all describe the working of the alchemical method and the changes of Qi in the body. After a course of refining and nurture, the Mysterious Pearl appears and the Great Unity returns to the true; the Muddy Pellet, the Crimson Palace, the Dantian (energy center), the Valley Sea, and other sites are each described as undergoing change. The scripture says that after the reverted elixir has been formed, one must still carry out the “seven reversions and nine returns,” continuing to refine until the ninth revolution before the Great Medicine is complete. The saying “the Pivot of Heaven and the Axis of Earth are in my hands” means that the cultivator seems to hold the hinge of his or her own Yin-Yang creative power.

The scripture says that if a person constantly preserves clarity and stillness, the principle of Heaven and Earth can return to the self. This is the language of Neidan states such as “the three flowers gathering at the crown” and “the five Qi paying court to the origin.” Cultivation continues with warming and nurturing, day and night, the “holy embryo”—the vital essence formed in Neidan—until it matures and is called the “infant.” Going further, one reaches the shedding of the embryo and spiritual transformation, the return of Yang and the exchange of the bones. These expressions describe the transformation of body and spirit, and the attainment of the Dao, sought in Daoist Neidan.

Zhang Pingshu said that only a moment’s work is needed to enjoy inexhaustible peace and happiness forever. The author holds that the crucial point of returning to the root and restoring life is the foundation of the Dao and the root of De (Virtue/Power). It is also the source indicated by Neidan terms such as dragon and tiger, lead and mercury, the three fires, and the eight waters, and still more the gateway where the many spirits gather and the wondrous function of the Golden Elixir operates. Once this point is understood, desires need not be forcibly driven off: the mind grows quiet of itself. Thoughts need not be deliberately clarified: Shen becomes clear of itself. When thoughts do not arise, tangled illusions subside, and body and mind gain ease. One then understands that clear wind and bright moon, green water and blue mountains, can all reveal the pivot of Yin-Yang transformation spoken of in the alchemical method.

The author recounts that from childhood he studied the alchemical method with Chen Niwan. Using seasonal markers such as the winter solstice, together with images such as Qian, Xun, Kun, Gen, Tiangang, the handle of the Dipper, Fusang, the Palace of Vast Cold, and Kunlun, he describes Neidan cultivation that turns in accordance with the seasons and times of Heaven and Earth. Names such as the liver of the Azure Dragon, the marrow of the White Tiger, the blood of the Red Phoenix, and the Jing of the Black Turtle likewise belong to the symbolic terminology of the method. The scripture says that the cultivator takes these symbolic medicines into the “earthen cauldron”; after they are refined and transformed, one opens the Flower Pool, draws in the spirit water, and ingests the daogui measure, and can thus bring forth the formed from the formless, extract lead and add mercury, and congeal the holy embryo. When the embryo’s Qi matures, it is called “a body beyond the body,” or the “embryo immortal.”

The author concludes that cultivation must be undivided in concentration before Shen can gather, and that only when the mind is ashen and the intention still does the Golden Elixir form within the body. He quotes a poem by Shi Jianwu: “Qi is the medicine that adds years; the mind is the spirit that commands Qi. If you know the master of circulating Qi, you are one who has attained immortality.” The meaning is that Qi can nourish life, while mind and spirit can govern Qi; to understand this is to grasp the key to cultivating immortality. The author says that by reciting the poem again and again, he realized a state in which the void disperses and body and mind return to clarity and stillness. This state is not withered, cold, and desolate; only someone who truly understands cultivation can comprehend it.

Fearing that the alchemical method would be lost, and also concerned that transmitting it to an unsuitable person would incur Heaven’s condemnation, the author wrote the Discourse on Revealing the Secret of the Mysterious Pass, hoping to remind later cultivators and allow the lineage of the Golden Elixir to continue. He explains further: observe the eye with the eye, listen to the ear with the ear, regulate the breath with the nose, and keep silence with the mouth. Gathering body and mind, and concealing Shen and Qi, all take the one mind as their basis. One first practices entering concentration and gathering Shen, restraining anger and moderating desire. In this way water and fire are harmonized, metal and wood join, and true earth returns to its place. The Golden Elixir then congeals of itself and gradually increases, so that Shen returns, Qi is restored, and body and mind are filled.

In the author’s view, Mencius’s saying, “I am good at nurturing my flood-like Qi,” can also illustrate this cultivation. Abundant liver Qi corresponds to humaneness, abundant lung Qi to righteousness, abundant heart Qi to ritual propriety, abundant kidney Qi to wisdom, and abundant spleen Qi to faithfulness. If one’s endowed Qi is insufficient, humaneness, righteousness, ritual propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness are hard to possess. If a cultivator can concentrate emptiness and nurture Qi, broadening the mind and setting body and mind at ease so that primordial Qi is nourished, forming the elixir becomes easy. With this the author urges students of the Dao to richly nurture their own primordial Qi, and he respectfully sets these words down and entrusts them to Liu Ziyuan.

Bai Yuchan of Hainan had followed Chen Niwan in his studies from childhood, and in the blink of an eye nine years had passed. One night, in the shade of the pines beside a rocky cliff, he saw the wind clear and the moon bright, the night hushed and still. Reflecting that life and death are the great matter of human existence, and that impermanence comes swiftly, he bowed to Chen Niwan and asked for instruction: “I have not followed my teacher for very long. I feel that my blessings are shallow and my affinity thin. May I ask whether, in this life, I have any chance of becoming an immortal?”

Chen Niwan replied: “Everyone has the chance—how much more so you?”

Bai Yuchan asked again: “Please forgive my presumption. How many approaches are there to the cultivation of immortality? How many methods are there for refining the elixir? My learning is shallow, and I cannot tell these principles apart. I hope my teacher will offer a little guidance.”

Chen Niwan said: “Come, I will tell you. The cultivation of immortality is divided into three grades, and the refining of the elixir likewise into three levels.

“The Dao (the Way) of the celestial immortal enables transformation and flight into ascension, and those of superior capacity may cultivate it. One takes one’s own person as lead and the mind as mercury, stillness as water and wisdom as fire. In a short time they coalesce, and in ten months an embryo is formed. This is the superior method of refining the elixir. It lays down no rules of hexagrams and lines, nor of weights and measures. Its method is simple, and so it is transmitted from mind to mind, and it is also easy to bring to completion.

“The Dao of the water immortal enables one to vanish and appear, to go out and come in, and those of middling capacity may cultivate it. One takes Qi (vital energy) as lead and Shen (spirit) as mercury, the hour of noon as fire and the hour of midnight as water. Within a hundred days they can be harmonized, and in three years the image of the elixir takes form. This is the middle method of refining the elixir. It speaks of hexagrams and lines, yet lays down no rules of weights and measures. Its method is subtle, and so it is passed on by word of mouth and from mind to mind, and it can be brought to completion.

“The Dao of the earthly immortal enables one to preserve the bodily form and remain long in the world, and ordinary people may also cultivate it. One takes Jing (essence) as lead and blood as mercury, the kidneys as water and the heart as fire. Within a year they can fuse and congeal, and in nine years the work is complete. This is the inferior method of refining the elixir. It speaks both of hexagrams and lines and of weights and measures. Its method is elaborate, and so it is transmitted in writing; yet one fears it is not easy to bring to completion.

“In the superior elixir method, Jing, Shen, hun (the ethereal soul), po (the corporeal soul), and yi (intention) serve as the medicinal ingredients; walking, standing, sitting, and lying down serve as the firing times; and clarity, stillness, and spontaneity serve as the method of application. In the middle elixir method, the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys serve as the medicinal ingredients; years, months, days, and hours serve as the firing times; and embracing the origin and guarding the One serve as the method of application. In the inferior elixir method, Jing, blood, marrow, Qi, and fluids serve as the medicinal ingredients; methods such as retaining the breath, swallowing saliva, contracting, and massage serve as the firing times; and visualization, together with ascent and descent, serves as the method of application.

“The subtlety of cultivation does not lie in mechanically following a diagram. Those who cling to images and to written words merely grow vain in their own conceit, and even into old age they achieve nothing.”

Bai Yuchan said: “For years I have read the elixir Jing (scriptures), and it has felt as though I were forever walking among thorns. Hearing my teacher’s explanation today, the dust in my mind has been swept clean, like a bright mirror grown clear, or clouds parting to reveal the moon. I understand that the myriad methods ultimately return to a single principle, and that every transformation ultimately returns to the true. But I still do not know where I should begin to apply my effort.”

Chen Niwan said: “A good question. The essentials of refining the elixir are these. Take the body as altar, furnace, cauldron, and stove, and take the mind as the chamber of the spirit. Sitting upright and entering stillness is gathering the medicine; holding fast and watching with clear attention is tending the fire. By movement and stillness one arranges advance and withdrawal, so that the work does not break off and resume by turns. Putting Jing and Shen to use is the adding and withdrawing; steeping and suffusing with true Qi is the bathing; bringing stray thoughts to rest is the nurturing of the fire. Restraining body and mind is called battle in the wild; concentrating Shen and gathering Qi is called guarding the city; forgetting clever devices and cutting off deliberation is called engendering and slaying. The place where a thought first stirs is called the Mysterious Female; fusing the mind’s Shen and the workings of Qi into one is called joining. Returning to the root and restoring one’s endowment is the completion of the elixir; transferring spirit-consciousness is called changing the cauldron; the appearance of another bodily form outside the body is called delivery from the embryo; returning to the origin and reverting to the source is returning to true emptiness; and only when emptiness itself is broken through may cultivation be called complete.

“In this way, when gathered one can assume form, and when dispersed one can transform into Qi. Coming and going meet no obstruction, and one is free and unfettered.”

Bai Yuchan said: “One who is diligent yet has not met an enlightened teacher will in the end meet a true adept; one who has met an enlightened teacher yet does not cultivate diligently will in the end still become a ghost. When this elixir method is cultivated, what signs of verification appear?”

Chen Niwan said: “At the beginning of cultivation, one feels Jing and Shen clear and bright, the breath easy and unobstructed, body and mind harmonious and compliant. Old illnesses gradually recede, and muddled, confused dreams grow fewer. When cultivation reaches the point of going a hundred days without food, and of drinking wine without becoming drunk, this is said to be red blood exchanged for white blood, and yin Qi refined into yang Qi. The body is warm as fire, the step light and quick; in the mouth one can refine mercury, and with a breath one can heat what lies within. Facing outer circumstances, the inner mind does not stir. One may even command ghosts and spirits and summon thunder and rain, hear the nine heavens with the ears and see ten thousand li with the eyes. The whole body is pure yang, the sinews like gold and the bones like jade; the yang Shen appears and can come and go in freedom. This is the fulfilled realm of what is called the Dao of long life without death.

“Yet I fear that people of the world cling to talk of medicinal ingredients and firing times, taking them for things that have form and that are deliberately contrived, and so cannot awaken at once. One should understand: before primordial chaos had divided, where were years, months, days, and hours? Before father and mother were born, where were Jing, blood, Qi, and fluids? The Dao is originally without form; dragon and tiger are borrowed only as metaphors. The Dao is originally without name; lead and mercury are borrowed only as metaphors.

“One who cultivates celestial immortality must bring both bodily form and Jing and Shen to subtle perfection, and unite with the Dao in truth. How can one remain forever constrained by Yin-Yang within the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water)? One must pass beyond the bonds of heaven and earth; only then may one be called a person who has attained the Dao.”

Someone asked in doubt: “This method of cultivation seems somewhat akin to Chan learning.”

Chen Niwan said: “You do not understand. Talking and exchanging questions and answers all day long is only hollow, insubstantial wisdom; sitting for years in withered torpor is only an illusory emptiness. The learning of the celestial immortal is instead like a pearl on a crystal plate: it turns with lively freedom, full of life, naturally round, harmonious, and bright. What is called a celestial immortal is none other than a golden immortal. This wondrous principle cannot be exhausted in words—and how many people truly understand it, and truly practice it?

“Under heaven there are not two different Daos, nor do sages have two different minds. Still more, every person is originally complete, and each one can reach fulfillment. It is just as green willows to which a horse may be tied are found everywhere, and the way before every household gate leads to Chang’an: one need only find the direct and ready path.”

Bai Yuchan said: “Under heaven, those who study immortality are many, yet they commonly fail because they never meet an enlightened teacher, or, having met one, are unwilling to practice, or, in practicing, are not diligent enough, until they grow old and resign themselves to dying beneath the Nine Springs. It is truly lamentable. I now mean to have the oral instructions my teacher has transmitted carved and printed, and circulated in the world. This divulges far too much of Heaven’s secret design. Will it bring down punishment?”

Chen Niwan said: “I intend to awaken those under heaven who cultivate immortality. If one were found guilty for this, could the Dao of Heaven still be called the Dao of Heaven? The Jing say, ‘My nature and life lie in my own hands, not in Heaven’s hands.’ What punishment is there to fear?”

Bai Yuchan asked: “When the ancestral master Zhang Pingshu transmitted the oral instructions to unsuitable people, he met with calamity three times. Why was that?”

Chen Niwan replied: “At that time he lacked the eye to recognize people, and his mind was not broad enough. Alas—the teacher is far off at the edge of heaven, the disciple far off at the corner of the sea. How much harder, amid the toil of the dusty world, to recognize those who are truly suitable. Now these teachings are merely carved, printed, and circulated under heaven, so that those who cultivate immortality may read the text, ponder its principles, and understand the wondrous truth. This too may be counted as conferred by Heaven’s intent. Why must it depend on personal transmission by spoken word?

“One need only be able to enter stillness in quiet, so that within thought there is no stray thought. When the work is thoroughly ripe and single-minded, and has coalesced into one, and one keeps to silent stillness all day long, like a hen brooding on her eggs, then Shen returns and Qi is restored, and one naturally comes to see the single aperture of the mysterious pass. It is so great that it has no outer realm, and so small that it has no inner realm. This is to gather the one Qi of the Prior Heaven, to serve as the root of the Golden Elixir. Cultivate with diligence, and before long one may stand alongside Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin. This is a result I have verified in my own person.

“Because those who study immortality lack guidance, I have carefully compiled the essentials of these questions and answers, and entitled them the Xiuxian Bianhuo Lun, the Discourse on Resolving Doubts in the Cultivation of Immortality.”

A person’s nature and life are like the sun and moon in the heavens. When the sun and moon come together, their light can endure; when nature and life come together, life can long endure. Life depends on the bodily form in order to exist, while nature is endowed by Heaven and resides at the root of the tangible body. The spirits (Shen) of the five viscera belong to life and are linked with a person’s seven emotions; the seven emotions readily damage the impartial Dao (the Way) that human beings inherently possess. Nature comes from Heaven and is linked with the impartial Dao bestowed by Heaven. Thus nature shares one principle with Heaven, while life communicates with human desire. When life and nature come together, their mutual response can form the elixir (the coalescence of Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) spoken of in Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation); when the elixir transforms into Shen (spirit), deathlessness can be attained.

The sun manifests the De (Virtue/Power) of Qian (the trigram in the Changes that symbolizes Heaven and Yang firmness), its brightness displayed outwardly; the moon originally belongs to Kun (the trigram symbolizing Earth and Yin softness), yet it employs the Yang Qi of Qian and receives the light of the sun. As the moon turns from dark to bright and from full to waning, the desires innate to a person rise and fall with it. When life and nature come together, their mutual response forms the elixir, and when the elixir transforms into Shen one can be deathless. The sun manifests the De of Qian through its brightness; the moon takes Kun as its substance and Qian as its function, receiving Yang Qi. At the end and the beginning of the month (the time when sun and moon alternate), the Jing and corporeal souls of the sun and moon unite: the moon receives the ethereal soul of the sun, Yin-Yang interact and nurture one another, and spiritual luminosity is thereby brought into being.

Therefore Laozi said: “Emerging into life and entering into death: of the followers of life, three in ten; of the followers of death, three in ten.” Here the phases of the moon are used to explain the waxing and waning of life and death: on the third day of each month the sun rises and the moonlight gradually brightens, symbolizing that vitality begins to grow, reaching fullness on the fifteenth; from the sixteenth the moonlight gradually darkens, symbolizing that vitality turns toward decline, tending to fade by the twenty-eighth.

In the images of the trigrams, the sun and moon correspond respectively to Kan and Li. Kan is Yin outside and Yang inside, so the Yang function of Qian comes to rest in the center; Li is Yang outside and Yin inside, so the Yin function of Kun likewise comes to rest in the center. Once the Yin-Yang functions of Qian and Kun have returned to Kan and Li, Kan and Li take the place of Qian and Kun in carrying out their Dao. In the course of one month, the changing phases of the moon present six trigrams, displayed in the celestial phenomena: on the third, the first Yang arises from below and the trigram Zhen appears; on the eighth, the second Yang line arises from below and the trigram Dui appears; on the fifteenth, the three Yang lines are complete and the trigram Qian appears. This is Qian seeking union with Kun, as Yang Qi gradually increases. On the sixteenth, the first Yin arises from below and the trigram Xun appears; on the twenty-third, the second Yin line arises from below and the trigram Gen appears; on the thirtieth, the three Yin lines are complete and the trigram Kun appears. This is Kun seeking union with Qian, as Yin Qi gradually increases.

Heaven and Earth, by means of Kan and Li, operate the Dao of Yin-Yang, cycling back and forth in unceasing change. Thus Wei Boyang said, “The sun and moon constitute Yi”; when Lu Deming explained the two characters of Zhouyi, he also adopted this meaning. As I see it, in heaven this union appears as radiance: the sun and moon join horizontally; in the human world it appears as Yi, that is, the sun and moon join vertically; in the human person it appears as the elixir, that is, the sun and moon join by overlapping. The relation of sun and moon in the human body is tied to the heart and the kidneys. When the Qi of heart and kidneys intermingles, water and fire move above and below in endless circulation, and a person can then stand equal with Heaven and Earth, joining in the operation of cosmic transformation, yet without being ruled by the changes of that transformation.

“Valley” refers to the Heavenly Valley (Tiangu). “Shen” (spirit) refers to the primordial spirit (yuanshen) within the human body, the root of life and of spiritual nature. The Heavenly Valley embraces creative transformation and holds the void; the valleys of the earth contain the myriad things and bear the mountains and rivers. Human beings, endowed with the Qi (vital energy) of heaven and earth, likewise have a “valley” of their own. Stored within it is the True One (zhenyi), the pure and unitary fundamental Qi, and this is where the primordial spirit dwells.

The head contains the Nine Palaces (jiugong)—what Daoism calls the spirit-mansions within the head—corresponding to the Nine Heavens above. One of these palaces is called the Muddy Pellet (Niwan), and is also known as the Yellow Court (Huangting), Kunlun, and the Heavenly Valley; it has many names. It is the dwelling place of the primordial spirit. Empty like a valley, and yet with Shen residing in it, it is therefore called the “Valley Spirit” (gushen). When Shen is present, a person lives; when Shen departs, a person dies. By day, the mind and Shen busy themselves in pursuit of external things; by night, they drift along with dreams. Thus Shen can hardly rest in its abode. “The yellow millet is not yet cooked” and “one has not yet awakened from the dream of Nanke” mean that, within the space of a single dream, a person seems already to have lived through a lifetime of honor and disgrace, wealth and rank, sorrow, worry, joy, and delight. If Shen leaves the body and does not return, life and death are thenceforth cut off from each other, and there is no longer any path linking the yin realm of the dead with the yang world of the living. Seen in this light, a person cannot live by their own power; it is Shen that gives them life. Nor can a person die by their own power; only the departure of Shen brings death. If the primordial spirit dwells securely in the Heavenly Valley and does not leave, how could a person die?

The reason the Valley Spirit is able not to die, however, lies fundamentally in the Mysterious Female (Xuanpin)—what Daoism calls the root whereby Yin-Yang unite and give birth to the myriad things. The Mysterious belongs to Yang and symbolizes heaven; the Female belongs to Yin and symbolizes earth. The two Qi of the Mysterious and the Female each carry a profound meaning, and without meeting an enlightened teacher who transmits the oral instructions, one can hardly truly grasp them. The Huangdi Neijing says: “The primordial spirit of the Heavenly Valley: guard it, and it is true of itself.” This means that in the upper part of the body there is the Muddy Pellet of the Heavenly Valley, where Shen is stored; in the middle there is the Crimson Palace (Jianggong) of the Responsive Valley (Yinggu), where Qi is stored; and in the lower part there is the Gate of Origin (Guanyuan) of the Numinous Valley (Linggu), where Jing (essence) is stored. The Heavenly Valley is also called the Mysterious Palace (Xuangong). It is the chamber of the primordial spirit and the place where spiritual nature abides, and is therefore the key to cultivating body and mind.

The sage models himself on the essential principles of heaven and earth and understands the root of transformation, causing Shen to guard the Mysterious Palace and Qi to circulate in the abode of the Female (pinfu). Shen and Qi respond to one another, and one can naturally attain realization and become one with the Dao (the Way), entering the realm beyond birth and death. Hence it is said, “The Valley Spirit does not die”—and this is what is called the Mysterious Female. The sage works the transformations within the Mysterious Female, nurturing body and mind in a dim, elusive state that is hard to put into words. Once the Qi of the Mysterious Female has entered the root, if one deliberately seals and guards it too urgently, problems will instead arise; if one lets it go entirely, it will scatter into disorder. What cultivation seeks is a continuous thread, without interruption. What is called “as if present” means preserving and nourishing in accord with the natural: over time Shen settles of itself, the breath in time steadies of itself, and mind and nature return to what is natural. This subtle function of Wuwei (non-action) does not rely on forced effort, nor does it require anxious toil. Hence it is said, “its use involves no exertion.”

From this it can be seen that the Mysterious Female is the source of Qi at both the upper and the lower sites, and is also the proper course along which the Mother of Qi rises and descends in its movement. Ordinary people, never having looked into the root and the source, simply call the nose “the Mysterious” and the mouth “the Female.” If the nose and the mouth were the Mysterious Female, then how would the so-called “gateway of the Mysterious Female” be explained? It is because they have not yet grasped the subtlety within it. Short of a great sage, how could anyone understand this principle through and through?

Between Heaven and Earth, Heaven manifests the Dao (the Way) of Qian, symbolizing the clear, light, and ascending force, and stands above; Earth manifests the Dao of Kun, symbolizing the heavy, descending force, and stands below. Primordial Qi (vital energy) circulates without cease between Heaven and Earth. Heaven acts through Yang Qi: after the winter solstice, Yang Qi rises from the ground and, after one hundred and eighty days, reaches Heaven; when Yang Qi attains its fullest measure, Yin Qi begins to grow. Earth acts through Yin Qi: over one hundred and eighty days, Yin Qi descends to the ground; when Yin Qi attains its fullest measure, Yang Qi begins to grow. Yin and Yang (Yin-Yang), one rising and one falling, revolve in cycles without end.

Human beings are born by receiving the harmonious primordial Qi between Heaven and Earth, and originally form one body with Heaven and Earth. The Qi of Heaven and Earth completes one cycle in a year, while the Qi of the human body completes one cycle in a day. From the zi hour to the si hour is the time when Yang Qi ascends, so the zi hour is regarded as the winter solstice of a single day; in the Yi Jing (Classic of Changes) this corresponds to the Fu hexagram, symbolizing the renewed arising of Yang Qi. From the wu hour to the hai hour is the time when Yin Qi descends, so the wu hour is regarded as the summer solstice of a single day; in the Yi Jing this corresponds to the Gou hexagram, symbolizing the beginning of Yin Qi’s growth. When Yin Qi reaches its extreme, Yang Qi is born; when Yang Qi reaches its extreme, Yin Qi is born. The alternation of day and night is likewise like the rising and falling of the Qi of Heaven and Earth.

If a person can imitate Heaven and Earth in stirring the breath like a bellows (tuoyue), making body and mind empty, still, and lucid, and letting the one Qi move through the whole body—exhaling outward when the breath opens and inhaling inward when it draws closed—then exhalation can be like the rising Qi of Earth and inhalation like the descending Qi of Heaven. In this way, one can endure together with Heaven and Earth. If, on the contrary, one indulges in bustle and clamor and in disputes over right and wrong, true Qi dissipates and no longer belongs to oneself. It is therefore better to remain empty and still, and to guard the center of body and mind, in order to nourish primordial Qi.

What is called the “center” is the place where the Qi of the mysterious female of Heaven and Earth (xuanpin, symbolizing the source of Heaven and Earth’s generative transformation) gathers. If a person guards this place with a concentrated mind and does not become scattered, true Jing (essence) naturally collects, primordial Qi gradually condenses, the valley Shen (spirit; gushen, the subtle power within the body that can generate and nourish) can dwell at ease, the Three Corpses (sanshi, spirits which Daoism says lodge in the human body and affect cultivation) depart, and the nine worms (jiuchong, the worm-like impurities within the body spoken of in Daoist cultivation texts) are also eliminated. This is the way of cultivation for longevity and enduring vision. From this one may know that true breath and primordial Qi are the root of a person’s nature and life (xingming); only when the foundation is solid and the root-stalk firm is there the way of longevity and enduring vision.

When a person comes into being, they receive the original primordial Qi of the Great Dao and, within the mother’s womb, breathe together with the mother. After birth the umbilical cord is cut, and a single point of primordial Yang comes to reside in the Dantian (energy center). The going out and coming in of human breath communicates with Heaven: upward it reaches the Gate of Heaven, enters the Niwan (the site of cultivation in the upper head), and nourishes primordial Shen; downward it enters the Dantian and connects through with primordial Qi. Zhuangzi said that the breath of ordinary people stays in the throat, whereas the breathing of the sage reaches down to the heels. What are called the “heels” refers to the stage of cultivation in which the foundation is deep and the root-stalk secure.

If a person can set aside all distracting thoughts, true breath naturally settles, body and mind enter a formless state of emptiness and stillness, and one unites with the Dao, then one can live long in the world. Seen in this light, the Dao exists within a person’s body and mind—how could it not be revered?

Peng Si of Helin came by Bai Yuchan’s residence at Sanshan in Hainan and asked him to explain the essentials of Daoist methods.

Peng Si said: “I have looked into the meaning of the great medicine of the Golden Elixir (jindan). The scriptures speak of the sun and moon, dragon and tiger, lead and mercury, Kan and Li, fire timing, the celestial circuit, and hexagram images, as well as such names as the crescent-moon furnace and the cinnabar cauldron. These differ from one another, and what they refer to is likewise manifold. Are they different names for one and the same thing, or do many names each point to different things? Sought within, it has neither form nor image; sought without, it seems to have form and image. Some say the subtlety lies in application; others say it lies in stillness and stability. The ancients say, on the one hand, that deliberate action is not the Dao (the Way), and, on the other, that to sink into quiet sitting is only dry sitting. I truly do not understand where to enter or how to reach the depths. Please explain.”

Bai Yuchan replied: “The ancient sages looked up to observe the patterns of heaven and down to examine the lay of the earth; they took what was near from their own persons and what was far from the myriad things, and established the oral instructions of elixir methods. Their aim was to enable people to live long and to improve the human heart. At root there is in fact only one principle. One enters by way of Yin-Yang (yinyang) and the Five Phases (wuxing: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), and in the end returns to primordial chaos and the Limitless—the undifferentiated origin, formless and imageless.

“The various formulations used in elixir methods each have their basis. It is only that those who transmit them set forth their own teachings and each cling to a single view, like the many dialects of Chu, which are hard to bring into one. What matters is which method one has encountered, received in transmission, and come to understand.

“One and the same principle has different names at different levels. In heaven it is called the sun, moon, and stars; on earth, birds and beasts, plants and trees; among human beings it appears as man and woman, husband and wife. In terms of the Classic of Changes, it is Qian and Kun, Kan and Li; in terms of the working of the Five Phases, it is Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire; in the metaphor of medicines, it is lead, silver, cinnabar, and mercury; in the metaphor of elixir methods, it is dragon and tiger, crow and rabbit. In use there are names such as altar, furnace, cauldron, and stove; in the course of practice one speaks of rising and descending, joining and uniting. As to its substance, there are the changes of floating and sinking, clarity and turbidity; according to the pattern of its transformations, there are the seasonal divisions of Yin-Yang, cold and heat.

“Thus the sages say that one must gather and refine the medicines, temper them according to the fire timing, congeal them into the elixir, and ascend from the ordinary realm to the sagely realm. Taking the model from within does not mean clinging to concrete images inside the body; taking the model from without is not a matter of pursuing actual things in the outer world. This is what is meant by there being neither thing nor image. To call it the one Qi (vital energy) of the Prior Heaven, or the utmost Jing (essence) of primordial unity, is to say that it is vast and profound, and cannot be fully known by ordinary reasoning.

“Its substance now gathers and now disperses, like light smoke and thin mist; the images it shows now appear and now vanish, like dream, illusion, bubble, and shadow. Heaven and earth share the same root with me, and the myriad things share the same body with me. From antiquity to the present there has never been true arising or destruction—only the turning of birth and death and the rising and ceasing of feeling and consciousness, like drifting clouds crossing the sky or a dark wind covering the bright moon. Pitying the thinness of worldly custom, the sages taught people to cultivate: to congeal and refine the formed out of the formless is called ‘completion’; to return from the formed to the formless is called ‘consummation.’

“The essential point in the working of cultivation is that there is activity within non-movement, and doing within Wuwei (non-action). In the end it is nothing more than refining Jing and transforming it into Qi, refining Qi and transforming it into Shen (spirit), and refining Shen to unite with the Dao. It may seem that something is being done, yet one does not cling to doing; it may seem to be stillness and stability, yet it is not rigid, motionless sitting. It is like a dragon nurturing its precious pearl, or a hen brooding on its eggs: it must be nourished by following its own natural course. In cultivation one may keep it with the mind, but one must not strain the mind in forced seeking; one may realize it with no-mind, but one must not rely on deliberate contrivance. This is the essential point of cultivating the elixir, and the mysterious subtlety of entering the Dao.”

Someone also asked: When the ancients cultivated the Dao (the Way), they regarded regulating and gathering the mind and its thoughts as the essential point, and concentrated contemplation as the subtle method. What is called “refined thought” means sustaining a mental focus and visualizing with single-minded concentration; what is called “regulating the mind” means holding and drawing in one’s own thoughts. Yet if one sustains the focus for too long, the thought sometimes strays; if one grips too tightly, the mind becomes all the harder to settle. Some therefore say that one should neither sustain the focus too long nor gather the mind too tightly. I, however, hold that if the time spent sustaining the focus is not long enough, the thought can hardly become truly single and genuine; and if the mind is not gathered tightly enough, how can one subdue this mind?

In reply: What is called “cun” means presence; what is called “wang” means absence. Cun is to retain and contemplate one’s own Shen (spirit); xiang is to visualize one’s own body. With the eyes closed, one can still behold one’s own eyes; with the mind gathered in, one can still perceive one’s own mind. Only when there is truly something in the mind that can be contemplated may one practice visualization and retention; this is called “true thought.” If there is nothing that can be contemplated, yet one forces the visualization, it is called “deluded thought.” This is the essential point of refined contemplation and the retention of mindfulness.

What is called “cao” means to hold fast; what is called “she” means to let go. “Cao” is to hold the Qi (vital energy) of True Unity (the authentic Qi spoken of in cultivation); “cun” is to preserve and nurture the Jing (essence) of the Great Mystery (the subtle and profound vital essence of life). Gather a single thought of Shen, and the myriad intentions of Shen gather with it; collect a single Qi, and the myriad Qi collect with it. What accords with oneself may be drawn inward without deliberate effort of mind; what runs counter to oneself may likewise be yielded to without deliberate effort of mind. Until truth and delusion are originally both empty, and accord and opposition alike return to stillness, the three times—past, present, and future—interpenetrate completely, and a single point of luminous numinous nature shines forth. This is the essential art of grasping and regulating the thoughts of the mind.

This is because when one thought is set in motion, myriad thoughts arise in its train; when one aperture opens, the remaining nine apertures open along with it. The principle here is that the intention of Shen governs the breath. From time without beginning I have accumulated nameless afflictions; karmic consciousness (consciousness drawn along by karma, confused and unclear) stretches without bound, and cannot be cleared away in an instant, nor can it be made to subside at once. Thus the ancients said, “Mind and breath depend on each other; when the breath is regulated, the mind is still”: let the thoughts of the mind and the breath rely upon one another, and when the breath is evened, the mind grows quiet. Is this not precisely the regulation of the mind? The ancients also said, “When the will is undivided, it concentrates in Shen,” meaning that when attention is not scattered, Shen can coalesce. Is this not precisely refined contemplation?

The former sages said: “Fix the mind in one place, and there is nothing that cannot be accomplished.” Therefore Perfected Tan said: “Forget form in order to nourish Qi; forget Qi in order to nourish Shen; forget Shen in order to nourish emptiness.” The two words “forget form” alone state the essential aim of controlling the mind. Yet if one only forgets the body while the mind still wanders among the ten thousand things, one might as well say that nothing has been forgotten at all. Why is this? Because the “forgetting” of which I speak is not merely forgetting form, but also forgetting the mind; only when body, mind, and external conditions are released together can there be luminous clarity and stillness, constant and settled.

Someone asked, “Nowadays there are people who are confused and unwilling to learn; who learn, yet never meet an enlightened teacher; who meet an enlightened teacher, yet do not practice; and who practice, yet achieve nothing. Is this because the time has not yet come and the affinity is not yet ripe? Or is it because their natural endowment is shallow and their inborn constitution is not sufficient for becoming an immortal?”

The reply was: “The ancients often saw the Dao (the Way) with their own eyes, and sometimes grasped it even before they had spoken. This was because they themselves were already like pure gold and uncut jade, waiting only for the skilled Chui—the legendary master craftsman—to appraise their worth. If one’s learning is disordered and without foundation—bowing to a teacher surnamed Huang in the morning and to one surnamed Li in the evening; studying the Dao this year and methods next year; diligent today and slack tomorrow—and yet one hopes by this means to attain the true Dao, it is like failing first to rid oneself of what is false while seeking what is real from others. Take faith as the steps by which one enters the Dao, and diligence as the root of cultivating the Dao; meet external things with non-being, and use being to settle and concentrate the mind and Shen (spirit). Practice in this way for a long time, and Heaven will of itself send an enlightened teacher to point out the path. Those who study the Dao should reflect on this with care.”

Someone else asked, “When the ancients composed the Yi Jing (Classic of Changes), they stressed exhaustively investigating the principles of things, fully recognizing innate nature, and thereby reaching through to the mandate of Heaven. I have considered this carefully: are nature and the mandate one principle, or two?”

The reply was: “Did not the former sages say, ‘What Heaven confers is called nature; acting in accordance with one’s nature is called the Dao; cultivating and clarifying this Dao is called teaching’? Therefore nature and the mandate are in fact one and the same principle.”

Someone else asked, “As for the so-called Golden Liquid Reverted Elixir, a term in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy), one must first set the furnace and establish the cauldron—that is, lay the bodily and mental foundation of cultivation—then distinguish mercury and lead, terms in the Neidan art used to stand for the factors of cultivation, and thereafter gather and refine according to the year, month, day, and hour…”

Another person asked: “What is called the Golden Liquid Returned Elixir—taking the cultivation of Neidan (internal alchemy) as the way to immortality—requires that one first set the furnace and cauldron in place, and then distinguish mercury from lead. One next gathers and refines according to the year, month, day, and hour, masters the firing times by means of water, fire, and the matching signs, proportions the ingredients by weight, likens Yin-Yang to husband and wife, forms the elixir nucleus, ingests a knife-measure (an extremely small amount of the elixir), gestates the sacred embryo, and finally brings forth the infant. In this way one can possess a body outside the body. This is the method studied by those who cultivate immortality. I have gone deeply into it, yet I remain continually perplexed by such expressions as the dragon and the tiger, the crow and the rabbit. Sir, could you point out that moon, so that I may understand the principle to which it refers?”

The reply was: “Altar, furnace, cauldron, and stove all originally arise from emptiness. Lead, silver, sand, and mercury are all originally vague and hard to distinguish. Water, fire, and the firing times are originally profound and hard to fathom, and the year, month, day, and hour are likewise originally empty and without any fixed determination. Yet what seems not to exist does in fact have its working. The crucial point is to grasp the measures and harmonize the blend, so that Yin-Yang, Water, and Fire temper one another and lend mutual support, and so that Metal and Earth fuse together. If this cannot be achieved, it is like the Yellow Dame letting Lord Ding rush about from early morning, or like the Lovely Maiden clutching the infant and weeping through the night.

“For this reason the predecessors set aside such practices as guiding and stretching, exhaling and inhaling, circulating and swallowing, regulating the breath, and visualization. They feared that people would cling to minute tangible things—nasal mucus and saliva, semen, Qi (vital energy) and blood—while failing to understand the true aim: to guard Qi with single-minded attention, to make mind and Qi soft and gentle, and to attain a purity and harmony like that of an infant. How marvelous! The elixir forms in a moment and is then nurtured for ten months; this is what is called rearing the infant out of nothing. Broadly speaking, it means employing Wuwei (non-action) within purposeful action, and applying true effort precisely where no technique seems to be used. It is also said that one meets amid the vague and indistinct, and that transformation takes place amid the dark and obscure. Even so, though the principle is of this kind, one must have tasted the Yunmen cake for oneself—a figure for personal experience—and cannot merely salivate while talking about that food.”

Someone also asked: How far is the “Golden Elixir” (Jindan) spoken of by Laozi from the great Dao (the Way)? The Dao has no form—how can there be any talk of dragon and tiger? The Dao has no name—how can there be any talk of lead and mercury? Is the Golden Elixir, after all, a method of cultivation, or is it the great Dao itself?

The reply was this: The Cantong qi (the alchemical classic written by Wei Boyang of the Eastern Han) says, “Only when metal returns to its original nature is it called the Reverted Elixir.” In the term “Golden Elixir,” “gold” refers to original nature and “elixir” refers to the mind. Its substance is the great Dao, and its function is called the Great Elixir. The elixir is the Dao, and the Dao is the elixir.

One must also single-mindedly regulate and nurture the breath, making Qi (vital energy) soft and gentle; contain the inner light and remain silent and unmanifest; nurture upright Qi and keep it abundant; guard softness and stillness, and embrace the “One” (the root of the Dao). When the mind is concentrated and unmoving, all distracting thoughts and attachments settle into calm. Ten thousand scrolls of elixir scriptures are not equal to guarding this one root; once the “One” is guarded, the myriad methods all return to the “One.”

Thus Heaven obtains the “One” and is clear and bright; Earth obtains the “One” and is peaceful and at rest; human beings obtain the “One” and become numinous and wondrous; valleys obtain the “One” and are filled; the sun and moon obtain the “One” and are luminous; the myriad things obtain the “One” and grow; and the sage obtains the “One” and brings peace to the world. The Daodejing says that the Dao gives rise to the “One,” the “One” gives rise to the “Two,” the “Two” give rise to the “Three,” and the “Three” give rise to the myriad things. The Dao is the substance of the “One,” and the “One” is the function of the Dao. Human beings are born by relying on the Dao, sharing the same root as Heaven and Earth and the same body as the myriad things.

In the end, the Dao has only this one root. Obtain the “One,” and even while living amid the transformations of the acquired state, one may ultimately transcend birth and death; lose this root, and one declines and decays just like the myriad things. You should take the “One” as the foundation of cultivation, the “One” as the medicine, and the “One” as the firing process; form the elixir by means of the “One,” and nurture the sacred embryo by means of the “One.” Use the “One” to regulate increase and decrease, use the “One” to seal and secure, and use the “One” to clarify and still body and mind. These expressions borrow the terminology of alchemy to explain the process of cultivation: beginning from guarding the “One,” one gradually reaches the utmost, which is called “shedding the embryo”; then, reaching a state beyond which nothing further can be attained, and no longer clinging to the “One,” one unites in truth with the Dao and endures as long as Heaven and Earth. This is called the “True One.”

The sage forgets the physical form in order to nurture Qi, forgets Qi in order to nurture Shen (spirit), and forgets Shen in order to nurture emptiness. The Dao is not a void that one deliberately pursues; when the human mind is naturally empty and luminous, the Dao returns of itself. If you wish for clothing, the “One” gives you garments; if you wish for food, the “One” gives you grain; if you wish to drink, the “One” gives you liquid; if you wish for a dwelling, the “One” gives you a house; if you wish for cold, the “One” gives you frost; if you wish for heat, the “One” gives you hot broth.

Make the mind empty and still, forget the physical form, guard the “One,” and embrace spiritual nature, and one can firmly preserve Jing (essence) and Qi, cherish primordial Qi, and keep Shen intact. Only when the Jing and Qi of the upper, middle, and lower three Dantian (energy centers) are abundant, and the Qi of the five viscera is full, can one be said to have completed the elixir. By single-mindedly guarding the “One,” one may attain long life. The ancient sages said: “Place oneself behind, and one instead comes to stand ahead of others; forget oneself, and one instead preserves oneself.” These words are indeed well founded.

Someone further asked: “From childhood I have been granted by Heaven’s will a fortunate affinity, and I have deeply received your compassionate teaching, so that I have been able to hear these mysterious principles. When I asked about the Dao (the Way), you indicated it by the heart-mind; when I asked about the great medicine of the Golden Elixir, you still indicated it by the heart-mind. I know well that everything returns to the heart-mind, and I seem to have come to some understanding. Yet this understanding is difficult to compare with any concrete thing, and difficult to put clearly into words. It is only that Heaven’s hidden workings lie deep and the methods of the Dao are profound: even though I already understand how the medicinal substances—the elements of inner refinement used in cultivating the elixir—are to be distinguished, I still have doubts about the fire timing.

The reply was: “The twenty-four solar terms, the seventy-two pentads, the twenty-eight lunar mansions, the sixty-four hexagrams, and the twelve celestial divisions are all the patterns of the movement of Heaven and Earth and of the advance of Yin-Yang. A year has twelve months, a month about thirty days, and a day is divided into twelve double-hours, one hundred ke in all; of these, six Yang and six Yin are entirely the changes of a single Qi (vital energy) as it rises and falls. Set within the human body, how is this any different from the movement of Heaven and Earth?

“This is the method of refining the elixir: gather the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), coordinate them with the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), take Heaven as the model and Earth as the reference, reckon by the course of the sun and observe the waxing and waning of the moon, and set in order the numbers of the hexagrams and the positions of the stars and constellations; fold time into the body, so that inner cultivation corresponds with the celestial seasons without. Employ the pairing of water above and fire below, and of the one civil with the one martial, and there are then guidelines for advance and retreat, moments for increase and decrease, steps of sealing and securing, hours of bathing, together with the subtlety of the hexagrams’ transformations and of the turning of creation. All of these are called ‘fire timing,’ just as the moon has its round and its wane and the tides their flood and their ebb. It appears simple, yet it cannot be transmitted lightly, for this method is held to be able to seize the creative transformations of Heaven and Earth and to take the essential radiance of the sun and moon.

“When night reaches the third watch, I shall swear an oath before Heaven and then tell you these things. The sages of old said: if one knows only the medicinal substances and does not know the spirit chamber—the inner place where the Golden Elixir coalesces—one cannot form the embryo; if one knows only the spirit chamber and does not understand the fire timing, one cannot bring the elixir to completion. Apart from you, who else could take part in this matter?”

Helin Peng Si (a personal name) bowed his head to the ground and bowed twice, saying: “Although Peng Si is not quick of mind, I am still willing to receive instruction.”

Master Lü (Lü Dongbin), his neck long as a crane and his cheeks like a tortoise, happened to meet Zhongli (Zhongli Quan); Layman Shi, his nose like a deer and his ears like a rat, chanced upon Pingshu (Zhang Boduan, styled Ziyang). Alas, the affinity and the season for cultivating the Dao (the Way) are hard to bring together—how could these be set beside the quarrels of fame, profit, and right and wrong? The great medicine of the Golden Elixir (Jindan), the ancients said, is transmitted only once in ten thousand kalpas; yet of immortal scriptures such as the Yusi lingpian, eight or nine out of ten who study them remain bewildered.

The crow in the moon and the jade rabbit in the sun refer to the inverted use of the trigrams Kan and Li and of Yin-Yang; the tiger in water and the dragon in fire likewise speak of water and fire meeting and of Yin and Yang being brought into harmony. One gathers and refines the single primordial Qi (vital energy) as the essential marrow within lead, and seizes the flower of the stars’ courses and of the transformations of the myriad things as the essential Qi within mercury. Only in the time before and after the bowstring—when the moon is about to be full but is not yet full, about to wane but has not yet waned—lies the key to gathering the medicine. One who understands must hasten to gather and refine the moment Gui-water stirs; Gui-water is a Neidan (internal alchemy) term for a particular juncture that appears in refining and nurturing. One who does not understand, once that moment has passed far off, can never grasp it again.

Jing (essence) is half a jin, and Qi is half a jin; both lie in the southwest. Fire is one liang, and the medicine is one liang; they truly lie in the northeast. One draws in the essence of metal and the liquid of wood and returns them to the Yellow Court, the central palace within the body; one refines them into white snow and yellow sprouts, which congeal as purple powder. The Wuzhen pian calls this “the divine water of the Flower Pool,” and the Zhiming lun also calls it “the earthly po and the heavenly hun.” Gathered and then refined and nurtured, the elixir can congeal and take form.

The process is like a husband and wife first joining and, through ten months, forming an embryo; it is also like ruler and ministers meeting to manage the myriad affairs, each attending to his own charge. When one meets the winter-solstice moment within the day, one must advance of one’s own accord—this is called “battle in the wild.” When one comes to the summer solstice, the time of withdrawal and holding fast, one should rest secure by the elixir furnace—this is called “guarding the city.” The whole course seems to take only a moment’s effort, yet the crux is whether it can be confirmed within a single day. Numbers such as “nine and three, two and eight” come down, in the end, to Neidan symbols such as the Lovely Maiden and the Metal Elder; reckonings such as “seven and six, thirteen” cannot, at root, be separated from terms such as the Yellow Matron and Old Ding. In truth one need not page through ten thousand scrolls of elixir scriptures; to grasp a single oral formula is enough.

You have come with sincere intent, and I know you have sought and revered this for many years. If a former life had not given you such capacity of root and bone, how could you devote yourself single-mindedly to cultivation? From gathering the medicine to forming the embryo, from circulating the fire to the delivery of the embryo and the emergence of the Shen (spirit), the work contains the subtle method of extracting and replenishing, and it also makes plain the timing of bathing and of regulating the breath. In cultivation one need not fear that metal and wood cannot join; on the contrary, one gains the benefit of water and earth dwelling together and according with each other. One has only to nurture them with gentle warmth; it is not so hard as one imagines.

Of the twelve double-hours, true effort occupies only one; of three hundred days of cultivation, the crux may lie in only half a day. If Neidan forms in the Dantian (energy center), one may walk, stand, sit, or lie without care; if one’s name is already on the register of the Purple Prefecture, the abode of immortals in the Daoist teaching, one is no longer dragged by the cycle of birth and death. From then on one is clear and unobstructed, joyful and at ease, and life itself grows leisurely.

This practice can be cultivated even amid noise and bustle; its mystery lies only in Yin and Yang joining for a moment. When Jing and Qi gather and do not scatter, further refining and nurturing make them all the more firm. The cinnabar tripod and the reclining-moon furnace, symbolic vessels of Neidan cultivation—why seek them outside? The altar of guarding the One and the central cauldron, the place of cultivation that symbolizes the pivot of body and mind, need only be sought in oneself. One must understand the transformations of Yin-Yang, and one must also comprehend the Mysterious Female (xuanpin), which Daoists take to be the subtle portal through which the myriad things are brought forth.

When dragon Jing fills the tripod, have the Golden Lad—the youth of myth who attends the immortals—descend along the Twelve-Story Tower, symbol of the throat and the passage that runs down from it. When phoenix marrow fills the pot, bid the Jade Maiden—the woman of myth who attends the immortals—carry word of it through the three thousand worlds. When the elixir has ripened, one must still warm and nurture it as carefully as a loving mother tends her infant; before long one may ascend among the clouds, become a True Person, and come into the presence of the Lord on High.

The human body is like plants and trees about to wither, and the heart-mind has already grown still, like ashes grown cold. If one wishes to ascend to the Jade Palace, the palaces where immortals dwell, one must cultivate the Golden Elixir—the Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) brought to completion through Neidan (internal alchemy). Hexagram images such as the horse of Qian and the ox of Kun are used to guard the Spirit Chamber, the crucial place within body and mind during elixir refinement; the crow within Li and the rabbit within Kan act like matchmakers, bringing the Lovely Maiden—a Neidan term often referring to mercury or to yin Jing and Qi—to gather at the True Altar, the inner site of alchemy.

The author speaks of himself as dwelling in the Crimson Palace, a Daoist palace of the immortals, like a man of leisure in a pure and quiet court. He has the Azure Dragon of Fusang spread its wings and give forth fire, and the White Tiger of Mount Hua bare its fangs and enter the water: Azure Dragon and White Tiger here symbolize the two Qi of Yin-Yang and the transformations of their rising and descending. The Heavenly Furnace, the Earthly Cauldron, and the Three Passes are all pivots of the turning of creation; the po of the sun and the hun of the moon are metaphors for the refined essences of Yin and Yang.

Earth lies hidden within lead, and metal is born from mercury. The turtle corresponds to the zi position, the snake to the wu position, the rabbit to the mao position, and the rooster to the you position; these animals stand respectively for the temporal stations of the earthly branches and for the transformations of Yin-Yang. The Four Images and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) cannot do without wu-earth, while the use of the Three Origins and the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) must rely on ren-water. Morning corresponds to the Zhun hexagram and evening to the Meng hexagram, and each of the six lines has its own symbolism; night corresponds to the Fu hexagram and daytime to the Gou hexagram, and the transformations of the myriad things do not arise from any deliberate arrangement. Thus the three natures come together and gather in the Primordial Palace, where primordial Qi resides; the two Qi of Yin and Yang rise and descend in circulation, revolving about the Yellow Path—the course along which the heavenly bodies travel, also used as a metaphor for the path of Neidan circulation.

The single medicinal substance mercury, once transformed, becomes black jade; seven-returned vermilion silica is at last refined into a red jewel. Vermilion tangerines, jade pomegranates, joined pears, and fire dates are all the numinous fruits of which the immortals speak. Beneath the whole sky it is as if white snow were drifting, while a clear wind circles the Purple Prefecture, the dwelling of immortals; yellow flowers bloom throughout the courtyard, setting off the auspicious numinous herbs within the Dantian (energy center), a Neidan term for the place in the human body where Jing, Qi, and Shen are cultivated.

The practitioner must know when to withdraw or add the medicines, and from where to gather them; one must grasp the crucial point of the transformations of generation and destruction, and also know the moment when fullness and depletion, rounding and waning, appear. By rising and descending, sinking and floating, one distinguishes the clear from the turbid; by intervals and changes, one discerns movement from stillness. One nourishes upright Qi, remaining full while holding to softness and quiet.

Few people in the world can truly understand these principles; even one who sits blankly all day may still not know the direction of cultivation. Affection may turn into harm, and harm may also turn into favor; the positions of the stellar lodges shift with the hours. There is a guest within the host and a host within the guest; the Dipper lodge advances while the Winnowing Basket lodge turns back—all of these are emblems of Yin and Yang transforming into one another.

The author holds that the great Dao (the Way) cannot be fully told in words, and that Neidan is not mere technique. The Mysterious Pearl, symbolizing the Dao or Neidan, manifests a form, and within it Yang is contained in Yin; the infant’s forming of an embryo symbolizes the forming of the elixir embryo, and within it Yin is again contained in Yang. The pairing of ruler and minister involves the order of what comes before and after, as well as the changes of regret and remorse; the union of husband and wife likewise bears upon survival and perishing, good fortune and ill.

Positions and stellar names such as the ding station, the gui station, the jia palace, and the geng palace are used to mark place and temporal sequence in cultivation. Although punishment and De (Virtue/Power), together with birth and flourishing, have their favorable and contrary courses and their rise and decline, the transformations of bathing and of concealment have no fixed, unchanging pattern. The measures of the medicinal materials are to bring the differences of east, west, south, and north back to the center; the arrangement of the firing times joins the numbers two, eight, nine, and three so that they return to one.

Cultivated in this way, the Magpie Bridge, the inner passage linking above and below, and the River Cart, a Neidan term for the circulation of Jing and Qi, can run continuously through one day and night; the Divine Water of the Flower Pool, symbolizing the fluids of the mouth and their function in inner refinement, flows in reverse through all four seasons. The movement of nutritive and defensive Qi, and the changes of cold and warmth, may be figured by the positions of the stellar lodges; the waxing and waning of Jing and Shen can likewise be explained by means of stations such as Xuanyao, the Dipper, and the Ox.

The joining of child and mother is like a box and its lid fitting together, and both body and mind are transformed along with it; the mutual response of brothers is like the xun and the chi sounding in concert, and the cultivation of blessing and the cultivation of wisdom likewise advance one another. The changes among the six lines of the hexagram images display the lunar phases—the dark of the moon, the new moon, the quarters, and the full moon; the winter solstice and the summer solstice alter the degrees of the sun’s course, and also bear upon such natural afflictions as locust plagues, floods, and drought.

The True Person can apply these subtle principles freely throughout the cosmos, as though ten thousand li of streams and mountains lay within his grasp. The Left Army and the Right Army symbolize the Dao of humaneness and righteousness handed down from antiquity; Great Seclusion and Lesser Seclusion are compared by means of musical-pitch names such as gong and jue, showing that secluded cultivation has its different ways. A clear wind brushes lightly, and the bright moon is pure and bright; amid a wisp of cloud and a solitary crane, the one who cultivates the Dao gives a long whistle, and compiles this book to leave for students who come after.

At first I did not believe that immortals existed in the world, nor did I know of the Daluo Heaven (the celestial realm where, in Daoist legend, the immortals dwell). Still less, when I heard someone speak of the immortal land of Penglai, would I cover my face and laugh at his folly. Teachings such as the seven reversions and the reverted elixir (a formulation in the cultivation of Neidan, or internal alchemy) are for the most part unreliable, and people have long taken them for empty rumor. The world says that immortals can ascend in flight, and that one may live for ten thousand years; yet the human body has no wings—how could it fail to fall? A human span is no more than a hundred years—how could it be prolonged without end? All that meets the eye is nothing but birth and death succeeding one another, cycling round without cease.

The Perfected of Verdant Emptiness (Cuixu Zhenren, an honorific for a Daoist practitioner), however, told me that what he had seen and heard was quite different from such talk. He feared that a person’s affinity might be shallow, their innate endowment insufficient, or their allotted years few, so that in the end they would still return to the Yellow Springs. Within the human body there are three things that must be preserved: Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). The Jing spoken of here is not the semen produced by the union of man and woman, but the saliva in the mouth of the Jade Emperor (Yuhuang, a revered Daoist deity); Qi is not the breath of ordinary respiration, but the vapor of the Great Simplicity (Taisu, that is, the innate primordial energy); nor is Shen the mind of everyday thought, but a divine spirit that may be ranked with Yuanshi (Yuanshi Tianzun, the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, a revered Daoist deity).

Hearing this, I was both afraid and full of doubt, and I raised my hands in salute. Later I gradually came to understand that, amid the ordinary movements of daily life, there is something that remains gathered and never disperses. Its root lies in Jing and Qi, and Jing and Qi in turn seem to fill the body through and through. Who would have known that this Jing, Shen, and Qi in fact originate in the innate state before one’s father and mother had yet conceived one? The three have never parted from one another; they congeal into a single whole, vast without limit. Birth and death seem to arise of themselves, yet this thing stays clear, still, and silent, and is not harmed on that account.

I awoke to it all at once and turned the matter over again and again: the old man’s words could not have been empty. Perhaps I was able to receive his teaching, and so he transmitted its principle to me in speech. On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival in the first year of Kaixi (a reign title of the Southern Song), he burned incense, knelt upon the ground, and passed it from mouth to ear. I happened to cultivate in this way for two or three days, and then felt heaven and earth, sun and moon, all soft as floss; suddenly it was as if I had bitten clean through the void, and only then did I know that Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin (immortals of Daoist legend) had likewise fathomed the mysterious Dao (the Way). Had I given heed to cultivation earlier in my youth, I might not still be bound by the dusty world. At the thought of the immortals of legend, those of eight hundred years and those of three thousand, it seemed as if cranes among the clouds kept them company and came gliding lightly near.

Written on Failing to Refine the Elixir

The materials used in the method of the elixir are called eight liang of the Jing (essence) of the sun and moon, and half a jin of the fine dust of cloud and mist. When it is light, it is like the feather of a wild goose; when it is heavy, it is like iron of a thousand jun. It is as white as the snow of heaven, and as red as the blood of an ape. Once it has been refined, it is placed in a jade gourd, hidden away in secret, and one dares not reveal it. At midnight, wind and thunder suddenly rise in full force, and smoke and vapor spread through the empty, far-secluded expanse. The savor of this, and the state of it, are hard to put into words; it is as if a mute had bitten through his tongue and still could not open his mouth. So one clutches the belly and laughs, delivering the matter over to that laugh, and does not let restless agitation and scorching heat remain in the heart. Next one must set the fishing rod in order, and cut a length of autumn bamboo.

Recounting the Method of Peace and Joy of the Perfected Cuixu

Gather in Jing and Shen (spirit), and do not let mind and spirit scatter outward; remain quietly still. Let Qi (vital energy) and intention collect at the crown of the head, rising like cloud and mist. Then raise the Yang fire and cook and refine it in the golden cauldron (the symbolic furnace of elixir refining); next send down the numinous spring to irrigate the Jade Field (an elegant name for the Dantian, energy center). The union of Yin and Yang (Yin-Yang) takes place only beyond Ox Islet, and its signs appear clearly beside the Magpie Bridge (the channel within the body along which Qi passes back and forth). The work is cultivated in the sequence of nine nines and six sixes; this is the method, in the human world, of peace and joy and of becoming an immortal.

Presented to Wan’an

Returning to the Mountains

How many times has one passed through the round of birth and death? Amid the dusty world and through long kalpas, there has never yet been a time of leisure. The tangle of right and wrong in the heart is like a deep green sea; the attachment to distinctions between one person and another is like green mountains a thousand feet high. The young sprout within one’s spiritual nature longs for the nourishment of water and soil; the bright moon in the state of mind is covered by clouds and shut away behind the Cloud Gate. The precious treasure that every person originally possesses is stored within oneself, yet nowhere can it be sought; now, for the time being, one accords with causes and conditions and cultivates the Way of the Great Return (the consummate realm of cultivating Neidan, internal alchemy).

Gathering the Medicine

On the mountain of the five aggregates (the five factors that constitute the human person and bodily and mental experience), white clouds lie layer upon layer; deep within the white clouds, the sprouts of the medicine give off a clear fragrance. The Buddha King of Majestic Sound (an ancient Buddha in Buddhism) sows at all times, and the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (a revered deity of Daoism) tills in person. The stone woman rides a dragon and works the art of spreading rain; the wooden man drives a tiger and plucks the herbs that have passed through frost. Whether poor or rich, every household has this medicine; once it has been gathered, each carries home one jin.

Furnace and Cauldron

Ziqing Zhixuan Ji (Anthology of Purple Clarity Pointing to the Mystery)

One should believe that in the innate Great Dao (the Way)—the inherent principle that precedes the coming-into-being of the myriad things—there was originally nothing at all. The two Qi (vital energy) of Yin and Yang smelted and fashioned the work of creation and formed the human body. True emptiness in its equality is the cinnabar cauldron; vacant brightness that penetrates through and through is the crescent-moon furnace. The nine orifices (the nine apertures of the human body) are like a wind altar, warm and pure. If the firing process of day and night falls out of measure, the medicinal ingredients will be exhausted. Only this nameless fire can refine a true great man of the world.

The Firing Process

The Positionless Perfected Person (the original true person who has transcended the bonds of name and rank) refines the Great Elixir like a long sword leaning against the sky, so that one feels a piercing chill pressing close. The fire in the jade furnace calcines the gallbladder of the Celestial Worthy; the broth in the golden cauldron decocts the liver of the Buddha. The shifts of cold and heat across the hundred marks of the day must be timed to the proper degree amid busyness; the gentle fire and the fierce fire embodied in the six lines (the line positions that symbolize the transformations of Yin and Yang) must be observed in stillness and concentration. If someone wishes to ask where the true furnace and cauldron are, can they ever be apart from this flesh-and-blood body before one’s eyes?

Bathing

When the flames in the medicine furnace and the elixir cauldron are at their height, the six thieves (three kinds of sensory desires and the like that disturb mind and spirit) and the Three Corpses (spirits which, as Daoism teaches, lie hidden in the human body and incite people to evil) all fear the strict and clear command. In the midst of cultivation there is no coming and no going, no advancing and no retreating, no increase and no decrease, neither drawing out nor adding on. When the river of passion and desire grows calm, the Vermilion Bird (the divine bird symbolizing mind-spirit or Yang Qi) floats upon it; when the sea of awakening lies deep, the white toad (the toad symbolizing lunar essence or Yin Qi) is steeped and reflected within it. After the elixir has been bathed and gathered back into the secret chamber, beneath the gate of the sun there are bright curtains of the night.

Warm Nurturing

The Metal Elder (symbolizing the nature of metal and Yang Qi) and the Lovely Maiden (symbolizing the nature of mercury and Yin Qi) join as husband and wife; at the mouth of the cavern peach blossoms bloom day after day, and the feeling of spring never ceases. Having picked up a single disc of the moon in heaven, one refines the treasure within the body that is not destroyed even through ten thousand kalpas. The Yellow Dame (the intermediary that brings about the union of Yin and Yang) is the mother of the mother, and the Infant (symbolizing the pure original nature attained through cultivation) is the body outside the body. Ever since the first year of Longhan (remote antiquity in the Daoist reckoning of kalpic cycles), all news has been cut off; and before the Buddha King of Awesome Sound appeared, who else was there?

Shedding the Embryo

In the blue sky and bright daylight a clap of thunder sounds; letting go and leaving the cliff, the sacred embryo is thereby accomplished. The two eyes seem to have lost their sight, yet radiance flashes without cease; there is no rope upon the body, yet one seems bound, and still laughs freely and at ease. Beneath the hall of yellow gold stand a thousand willows; before the hall of blue-green jade stand ten thousand plum trees. One has failed the person within the mandarin-duck bed-curtains and left her alone in solitude; the banquet in the Qin tower having already ended, why not return?

The Golden Elixir

The Buddha and sentient beings belong to one and the same family; on the tip of a single hair countless worlds can appear. The nine reversions and seven returns (the alchemical teaching concerning the cyclical transformations of the medicinal substances) are like a fish swimming into a net; the Four Noble Truths and the Three Emptinesses (Buddhist doctrines concerning suffering, its accumulation, its cessation, and the path, and concerning emptiness) are like a rabbit falling into a snare. Since when did chaos ever congeal into a seed? Last night the empty and silent dwelling put forth flowers again. Who would seek the elixir medicine inside the cauldron? Before the cliff of withered trees, there is only a crescent of moonlight shining aslant.

Ascending in Flight

Ever since passing through the gate of nirvana—the realm of transcending birth and death and realizing entry into extinction—I have lain down once, at ease in the clear breeze, as if tens of thousands of years had already passed. Buddhist teachings such as the Four Noble Truths and the Three Emptinesses have all been transcended, like a rabbit fallen into a net. In the midst of primordial chaos, when has fruit ever been borne? In the empty, silent dwelling, flowers opened again last night. Who can go to the cauldron and furnace in search of the elixir? Before the withered tree and the cliff, the moonlight falls aslant.

Ascension

Ever since passing through the gate of nirvana, I have lain down once, at ease in the clear breeze, as if tens of thousands of years had already passed. Although a road leads across the Weak Waters—legendary waters difficult to cross—toward the immortal realm of Penglai, Śākyamuni and Maitreya are still engaged in Chan meditation. Who turned the world before the withered tree and the cliff into a realm of falling flowers and flying birds, free and unfettered? Two clay oxen, symbols of what neither knows nor feels, fought each other and sank into the sea; even now, news of them remains faint and uncertain.

Concordance

A man of the Dao (the Way) dwells on the shore of the Southern Sea and comes to visit the Old Wan Hermitage on Mount Lu. The bare pillar and the lantern, architectural features and implements of the monastery, are invited together to expound the teaching, and the monks’ hall and the Buddha hall alike join their palms in reverence. Mountains, rivers, and the great earth each move on their own course, and all beings possessed of spirit dwell together in a single niche. The fish steeping in the pickle jar is not yet dead; this stick of incense is offered to the living Gautama (Śākyamuni).

Four Lyrics to the Tune “Shuidiao Getou”

First

The oral formula of the Golden Liquid Reverted Elixir, an alchemical term for the elixir once it has been completed, consists in nurturing out of nothingness an elixir embryo like an infant. There is no other method besides this: one need only let the spiritual water enter the Flowery Pool (Huachi), a term of Neidan (internal alchemy) for the place in the body where Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) are refined and nourished. One gathers the lead and mercury of pristine spontaneity, Neidan terms borrowed to indicate the Yin-Yang Jing and Qi within the body; in a moment they conjoin of themselves and condense into a single point of purple-gold quintessence. After ten months of fire times following the circulation of the celestial cycle, the jade cauldron yields an elixir like precious agaric.

Do not be deluded. The principle is now laid bare; do not doubt. The working of Qian and Kun amounts, in the main, to nothing more than the transformations of Kan and Li, names of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), often borrowed to indicate water and fire, Yin-Yang. Why is jade hidden in stone? Why is the pearl hidden in the oyster’s belly? Through these phenomena the mystery of Heaven and Earth’s creative transformation is revealed. What is more, a still more profound principle lies within, and it is not easy to tell you.

Second

There is no need to search for the spiritual water, nor to inquire after the Flowery Pool. Yellow Sprout and White Snow, alchemical terms, are in the end nothing but names. The key lies only in the ox of Kun and the horse of Qian—that is, in such symbols as the dragon of Li and the tiger of Kan—and there is no need to doubt further. The medicines have no fixed weight, and the fire times need not be bound to particular hours.

The Crescent-Moon Furnace and the Cinnabar Cauldron, names of alchemical vessels, need not be clung to either. If one meets true lead and true mercury, Neidan terms for the Yin-Yang Jing and Qi within the body, and does not refine and nurture them, of what use are they? One’s own Metal Sire and Lovely Maiden, Neidan terms symbolizing respectively Yin and Yang Jing and Qi, gradually fuse into one and form an elixir embryo whose breathing is like that of an infant. If you do not trust Zhang Pingshu, the Northern Song Daoist Zhang Boduan, whom else can you ask?

Third

To become an immortal may look like quiet ease, yet it in fact demands real effort. When Yang Qi (vital energy) first arises in the body, it is like lighting a fire in the elixir furnace so as to refine Neidan (internal alchemy). One gathers in the celestial hun-soul and the earthly po-soul, so that the Qi of Yin-Yang no longer surges and clashes, and the Jing (essence) and Qi in the furnace and cauldron gradually condense. One simply lets the Qi within the body circulate along the “river chariot” (a Neidan expression for the movement of Qi through the body), following the meridians straight to the niwan (the site of cultivation in the head).

One circulates the golden Jing and gathers the jade liquid, sending the Qi through the three passes of the body (a technical term for the barriers Qi must cross). If the Qi of Metal and the Qi of Wood remain cut off from each other, it cannot ascend to Jade Capital Mountain (here referring to the head or the upper Dantian (energy center)). Once the channel of the Caoxi path is found (a metaphor for the crucial route of cultivation), one can employ the divine water of the Flower Pool (the Daoist name for the fluid in the mouth) and condense it into a round elixir of purple gold. One then no longer suffers hunger or cold, and the celestial immortal realm seems to be the human world right before one’s eyes.

Four

In the earthen cauldron (a metaphor for the place within the body where the elixir is refined) the firing is mild; the bellows (a metaphor for regulating the breath and moving Qi) are set working and rumble like spring thunder. Between the three fields—the upper, middle, and lower Dantian—the movement of Qi rises and falls, and the way through to the Spirit Terrace (where mind and Shen (spirit) reside) lies open. Within the body there are naturally a true dragon and a true tiger, which of themselves harmonize lead and mercury (a Neidan metaphor for the essential Qi of Yin-Yang) and form a pure embryonic breathing. When one can catch the bright moon in the water, the ground of the mind blossoms like a flower.

One cycle of the practice passes through thirty days and ninety days. By regulating the increase and decrease of the breath and the firing, one refines the work until Jing and blood are transformed and the declining body is renewed. The Qi of the Four Images and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) gathers and condenses only within the square inch (the heart), leaving the mind clear and free of dust. The practitioner seems to stand upon the niwan and at last turns toward the immortal realm of Penglai.