《葛仙翁太极冲玄至道心传》

The Renmai (Conception Vessel) begins below the Zhongji acupoint, ascends past the pubic hairline, and travels upward along the interior of the abdomen. Passing the Guanyuan acupoint, it reaches the throat, then continues upward through the central region, enters the brain by way of the empty apertures, and finally arrives at the Yinjiao acupoint (the junction of the upper and lower gums). The Renmai is the sea of the Yin vessels, that is, the confluence of the Yin meridians.

The Dumai (Governing Vessel) begins at the Xiaji acupoint (the lower point) and ascends along the interior of the spine. Passing the Fengfu acupoint, it enters the brain, reaches the crown of the head, and then descends along the forehead to the bridge of the nose. When Qi (vital energy) arrives here, it penetrates the central region, enters the throat through the empty apertures, and then descends to the Yinjiao acupoint. The Dumai is the sea of the Yang vessels, that is, the confluence of the Yang meridians.

Thus, in cultivation one brings the teeth together and rests the tip of the tongue against the upper palate; it is said that this allows the Dumai and the Renmai to meet. The Renmai is connected with a woman’s conception and gestation, while the Dumai governs and regulates the meridians.

The ancient immortals said: “The deer moves the Weilu (the area near the tailbone), opening the Dumai, and so can live a thousand years without dying; the tortoise draws in the breath through the nose, opening the Renmai, and so can prolong life.” If a person can open these two vessels, all the other meridians will likewise become open.

The Huangting Jing (Scripture of the Yellow Court) says: “All of this is accomplished by the mind inwardly turning the celestial meridian; contemplating it day and night, one may naturally attain long life.” The “celestial meridian” here refers to the ecliptic within the human body, the pathway along which the breath travels back and forth—precisely the Renmai and the Dumai.

Human beings come into being endowed with the two Qi (vital energy) of Yin-Yang, forming a body of the four elements (the four basic elements that constitute the human body in traditional conceptions). Each person’s endowment differs, and the wise and the dull likewise differ from one another. If one does not measure the depth or shallowness of one’s own capacity and the quickness or slowness of one’s insight, and, having only just heard a phrase or two, still without the slightest merit of cultivation, single-mindedly wishes to become an immortal or a Buddha, is this not deceiving oneself and others?

Immortals are of five grades: celestial immortals, earthly immortals, spirit immortals, human immortals, and ghost immortals. Which grade one can reach depends on whether one encounters the Dao (the Way) early or late, and on the manner of one’s cultivation.

Celestial immortals are those who have cultivated through many kalpas and who long possessed a numinous root and a wise nature. Born into good and virtuous families, they enter the Dao from childhood, receive transmission from persons of high attainment, and practice the supreme methods of the Dao. Taking heaven and earth as furnace and cauldron and the sun and moon as water and fire, they cultivate in clarity, stillness, and naturalness, bringing both Neidan (internal alchemy) and Waidan (external alchemy) to a state of purity, transcending the three realms and breaking through all constraints. Such practitioners cultivate by means of heaven and earth, and in the end transcend the limits of heaven and earth.

Earthly immortals are firm in aspiration and trustworthy in word and deed, and they do not crave the secular world. Beginning to study the Dao in the prime of life, they understand the key to the workings of creative transformation and the principles by which the myriad things grow. They refine elixir medicines and ingest them in pursuit of long life, preserving the bodily form and dwelling long in the human world, becoming those who attain immortality by cultivating on land. These are immortals who cultivate by means of the earthly realm and yet remain in the world.

Spirit immortals are innately possessed of an immortal bearing and the bones of the Dao, and are moreover loyal and filial, accumulating merit and good deeds. While still young they revere the methods of the Dao, grow weary of the dusty mundane world, and enter famous mountains and blessed lands to cultivate. In sequence they refine Jing (essence) and transform it into Qi, refine Qi and transform it into Shen (spirit), and refine Shen and return it to emptiness; they first cultivate the jade liquid and then refine the Golden Elixir, reaching a state in which Yin Qi is entirely exhausted and Yang Qi is pure and complete. Passing from the ordinary into the sacred, they are able to divide their form and transform into Qi, free and at ease. Cultivation at this level centers on refining Shen and causing spirit to return to its original truth.

Human immortals are humble and reverent in character and glad to do good together with others. By middle or later years they are no longer ardent about fame and profit; facing external things, they are able not to be drawn by passion and desire. By circulating Qi they nurture life, employing the methods of harmonizing Yin-Yang indicated by such Neidan terms as “extracting lead and adding mercury” and “taking from Kan to fill Li,” together with cultivation methods such as breathing regulation and guiding exercises, in order to care for the body. Body and mind rest at ease, and they can dispel illness and extend their years. This is regulating oneself by means of human cultivation.

Ghost immortals are ordinary in innate disposition and do not understand the great Dao. They cling only to some phrase or thought, so that the mind does not fall into disorder, and now and then, when the cognitive spirit (the activity of human consciousness) happens to be stirred, they take themselves to be extraordinary. There are also those who observe fasts and keep precepts, their bodies like withered wood and their minds like dead ashes. When they enter meditative concentration, they can let the Yin spirit (in traditional Neidan conceptions, the spiritual form that belongs to Yin) leave the body; after death their numinous essence does not disperse, and they may even be reborn in a womb or lodge by borrowing another person’s body. Yet this realm is pure Yin without Yang, and in the end they have not left the path of ghosts.

Those who study the Dao should be neither attached nor partial, cultivating from the shallow to the deep. The great Dao is not far off; so long as one practices diligently, it is possible to reach it. An elixir scripture says: “When a house is damaged, repairing it is not difficult; when the potency of the medicine is exhausted, it can still be made to spring forth again. If only one understands the method of returning to the root and reverting to the origin, golden treasures will accumulate like a mountain.” These words are indeed well founded.

Whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, one must never depart from “this”—the inner mind-spirit and the movement of Qi (vital energy) guarded in cultivation. Once one departs from it, the essentials of cultivation are lost. This is the Great Dao (the Way). Cultivation takes “holding reverence” as its foundation. Reverence is the key to esoteric cultivation from beginning to end: one uses the intent of Shen (spirit) to guide Qi back into the Qi cavity, the place where the movement of Qi is preserved and nourished in cultivation, and one must not relax for even a moment. One must prevent torpor and drowsiness from causing disturbance, and remain clear and alert in guarding it at all times. If a single thought goes astray and the mind-spirit leaves the body, Neidan (internal alchemy) will be difficult to accomplish.

When walking, one should move forward steadily, as if on a level road. One must not rush or walk quickly, but proceed slowly, step by step, while keeping the mind-spirit settled within. Walking too hurriedly will, over time, injure the sinews and vessels, and is also unfavorable to refining the elixir.

When standing, one should let the mind-spirit gather and settle in the Great Void, the vast and formless vista of emptiness. While standing, the mind must not become scattered, thinking now of one thing and now of another. By means of inner vision, one should settle the mind-spirit in the Heavenly Valley, the Mud Pellet, the Great Abyss, and the other sites spoken of in internal cultivation. If stray thoughts arise, the mind-spirit will wander and Qi will disperse. Standing for a long time injures the bones and is also unfavorable to forming the elixir.

When sitting in meditation, one should hold the body upright, quietly guard the mind, and take gentleness as the standard. One knows clearly where to come to rest, yet, like a simple person, does not show off cleverness; one is cautious and says little; one discerns what is subtle without appearing artful; and gradually one forgets the distinction between external things and oneself. With undivided attention one guards the center of body and mind and turns the light back to shine within—that is, one withdraws attention from the outside world and contemplates inwardly. The body must not move about at random; the moment it moves, Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) are disturbed, and mind and Shen (spirit) can hardly unite with Qi. Thoughts, too, must remain single-minded and must not stir vainly; the moment they stir, Qi scatters into disorder.

Concentrate mind and spirit and forget the bodily form, until even the thought of “forgetting the bodily form” is let go. Body and mind can then settle, wisdom grows clear and lucid, and the inner spiritual brightness is like empty stillness and pure whiteness, in harmony with the Dao (the Way).

Regulating the breath at first requires intentional guidance; with time it becomes spontaneous. Breathing should be unhurried and gentle, never coarse or hasty; if it is coarse and hasty, the “medicine” spoken of in cultivation is lost. A person’s primordial Qi moves much as Heaven and Earth do: on inhalation, it is as if the Qi of Heaven descends; on exhalation, it is as if the Qi of Earth rises. The outgoing breath should be sent to the very root, and the incoming breath should reach the foundation. Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) often uses the “dragon” and the “tiger” as images of Yin-Yang Qi and its circulation: exhalation is like the dragon’s chant as clouds arise, and inhalation like the tiger’s roar as wind is born.

One exhalation and one inhalation count as a single breath. The scripture says that the movement of Qi resembles the celestial cycle of a month; if a single breath can be settled in peace, it is as though one possessed the seasonal changes of a whole year. The practitioner should let the luminous true nature move with Qi, making the breath even and deep until it reaches the “stem” (the root, the depths). To go further and attain “no breath” does not mean stopping the breath, but that the breath has become so fine as to be almost imperceptible. In this way it condenses into “golden liquid” and forms the “millet-grain elixir” (a Neidan term for an elixir refined until it is extremely minute and pure).

If one merely sits stiffly while stray thoughts fly about, the mind-spirit scatters and the breath falls into disorder; sitting long in this way will instead harm the body, and the elixir will be hard to form. What the scriptures say—“two or three years of arduous toil, joy for ten million kalpas”—means that although cultivation requires years of diligent hardship, what is sought is lasting peace and happiness.

When lying down to rest, one should gather the mind and spirit (Shen) and settle them in the “secluded valley.” Here the “secluded valley” refers to the Kun abdomen, that is, the abdomen. The original spirit dwells in the head by day and returns to the abdomen by night, and the key to its movement lies in the two eyes.

When sleeping, the head should face east, and one should curl up on the side like a hibernating dragon. Do not lie face upward with both legs stretched straight. One may pillow the head with one hand and grasp the heel with the other, bend at the waist, close the eyes, and contemplate inwardly the aperture of Qi (vital energy)—the site, in cultivation, of visualization and the concentration of spirit—settling the mind and spirit in the abdomen, guarding inwardly with undivided attention, and maintaining a steady concentration like a hen brooding on her eggs. Even when one falls asleep, the mind and spirit should remain clear and undispersed. Lying supine with the legs extended, mouth open and panting, causes the mind and spirit to wander and the breath to dissipate; lying too long also injures Qi, so that Neidan (internal alchemy) is difficult to coalesce.

Whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, one must always keep the mind on this practice and persevere if any attainment is to be reached; the slightest deviation may render all previous effort in vain. The text says: “The three places—the ears, the eyes, and the mouth—must be drawn in and closed, so that Jing (essence) and Qi do not leak out through them. The True Person descends into the deep abyss, coming and going freely in its hidden depths, and always guards the central and correct place.” This is precisely the principle being set forth.

The most important thing in cultivation is to forget words and concentrate on guarding the One. When words are forgotten, Qi (vital energy) does not scatter; when the One is guarded, Shen (spirit) does not wander outward. Here "the One" refers to the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), and also to the southwest direction. The key lies in the Kun hexagram and the Fu hexagram alternating and returning in an unending cycle. Let the spirit-intent lie hidden within Kun, which is to "know the white yet keep to the black" (know brightness, yet hold to stillness), and the spirit's luminosity will naturally appear.

The six lines of the Kun hexagram also symbolize six days. When stillness is kept to its utmost, Yin is exhausted and Yang is born. Beneath the six lines a single Yang line is born again, which is the principle by which heaven and earth complete their course and begin anew on the seventh day. Lead and mercury both arise from the One. The One is the beginning of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and also the image of the Taiji. The Great Expansion number is fifty-five; subtract five, which represents the Five Phases, then subtract one, which represents the Taiji, and the remaining forty-nine is used to distribute the Two Modes and the Four Images to form the hexagrams. The immortals knew that the One is lead and mercury, and so they embraced and guarded it, cultivating for forty-nine days so that Yang Qi is born again beneath the five Yin lines. When the first Yang stirs, it is like thunder sounding within the earth, revealing the Root of Heaven. The Yin number at the Hai position is spent, and at the first quarter of the Zi hour the Fu hexagram appears, revealing the original heart of the life-giving force of heaven and earth. Thunder lies within the earth; thunder belongs to firm Yang, and earth to yielding Yin. Yang Qi positioned beneath Yin Qi is called the "Primordial One Qi" (prenatal Qi).

The Taiji gives birth to Yang within stillness. The practitioner must concentrate wholeheartedly, cut off stray thoughts, seek the Primordial One Qi, and return the will to emptiness and nothingness. Emptiness and nothingness are the source from which original Qi arises, so it is said that the Primordial One Qi comes from emptiness and nothingness. This emptiness is not barren silence or annihilation, but a state in which body and mind rest in a dim, profound, indistinct realm: the pulse and breath grow quiet, the true breath naturally ceases, and one enters a settled, primordial chaos in which the spirit's luminosity appears. An oral formula says: "If you ask about the Primordial, it is also nothing; the Posterior requires that you put in the work." Worldly people are drawn along by the seven emotions (joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, desire) and the burdens of karma, which form the posterior Shen and cause the subtlety of the Primordial to be lost. Once the posterior Shen is clouded, the original heart of the Primordial is covered as well.

The practitioner should lower the eyelids, close the mouth, regulate the nasal breath, gather in the tongue's Qi, still the mind and listen quietly, and draw in the lower orifices, so that the Four Images (the related elements of body and mind) are harmonized and return to emptiness. Keep the body, thoughts, and awareness all unmoving, and draw the posterior Shen back to the source of creation, uniting it with Qi. Be aware at every moment, guard the center at every instant, and practice for a long time until it becomes fully natural. When the Shen returns to the Golden Cauldron (a symbol for refining the internal elixir), the Mysterious Female (a symbol of the gateway of generation and transformation) is established on this foundation, and only then can true Qi be produced; true Qi then transforms into true lead. When Jing (essence), Qi, and Shen are complete, the results can be said to appear. There are three stages of stillness: the minor stillness of one hundred days, the middle stillness of two hundred days, and the major stillness of three hundred days.

Begin with the minor stillness. The spirit-light seems to pass through a curtain, and a crescent moon hangs in the southwest, like the moon of the third night rising from the Geng direction, when Metal Qi has just begun to show itself. Within Kan (in Neidan, the Kan hexagram often stands for the kidney water and true Yin), a spot of warm Qi rushes up to the heart region. Then lead it downward with the mind, through the Weilü, the Yellow Path, and the Jade Pillow, up to the Niwan (a Neidan term for the head), and circulate it through the Nine Palaces before it descends from the palate. What first descends is warm Qi, flowing down in continuous droplets, with a taste like ghee and sweet dew. Guide it with the gaze, receive it with the mind, and let it enter the cauldron and pass through the four limbs, and you will feel at ease. This is the wonder of the union of Kan and Li in the Small Celestial Circuit. At this point you will understand that stillness truly has effect, and you should practice stillness with firmer resolve and deepen your work further.

When the middle stillness reaches a certain depth, you enter the "Land of Nothing-Whatever" (a realm without distinction or attachment): the sun and moon seem to stop moving, the celestial phenomena no longer turn, body and mind become dark and primordially chaotic, and the Root of Heaven begins to stir. Within the Kun palace there seems to be the sound of thunder, the belly seems to give off the sound of tearing silk, the bladder grows hot, and both kidneys seem to boil. At this time, let the spirit-intent and the breath sink to the Sea Floor and move gently, breaking through the Three Passes (Weilü, Jiaji, Jade Pillow, and other Neidan terms). True Qi stirs like swift thunder and fierce fire; then guide it silently so that it circulates through the whole body. Suddenly the true Qi rises to the Niwan, and the Moon Cave (a Neidan term for the head) seems to give rise to wind; a round light wells up between the eyebrows and transforms into Jade Fluid, as cool as borneol and mint. Guide it again through the Multi-Storied Tower (a Neidan term for the throat) and send it into the Earthen Cauldron (a symbol of the lower Dantian, the energy center). This is called "obtaining the medicine at the second phase."

When silently circulating the Celestial Circuit, at the Zi hour apply the Yang fire two hundred and sixteen times to obtain eight liang of lead; at the Wu hour withdraw with the Yin tally one hundred and forty-four times to refine half a jin of mercury. When the count of the circuit is complete, you enter the wonderful function of the "fourth phase." At this time, spirit and essence seem like husband and wife in union, and the Hun and Po souls cling together like mother and child. Guard this state with full concentration; this is called "emotion returns to the original nature," and only then can it be called the Returned Elixir, that is, the wonder of the great union of Kan and Li and the return of the elixir through Jade Fluid. Thus it cycles on and on: the Jade Fluid enters the cauldron today, and tomorrow, at the proper time, is born again, circulating just as before, with the work never interrupted. The scenes that appear in the process are difficult to describe fully; all of them arise naturally.

When your practice reaches this point, you should seal the Nine Orifices (the nine openings of the human body) according to the method of cultivation and continue to advance, so that the Six Roots (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) are completely settled and you overcome the calamities in the transformations of heaven and earth; only then will the state of the seven-day return of heaven and earth appear. When the major stillness reaches a certain depth, within the dim, profound indistinctness you will see the sun rising in the Geng direction, gradually growing round and hanging in the sky; then a sun-like red light wells up, rises into the moon, and joins with it, forming a full, bright red light. This symbolizes true lead and true mercury, that is, the sun and moon joined like twin jade discs. At this time, draw the red light in through the nose and let the spirit-intent lie hidden in the Xu-Wei cavity (a location and orifice name in Neidan). Stir the Xun wind (a Neidan term for a method of moving Qi) so that the Qi of Yin and Yang interact on the Yellow Path, and the Three Blossoms (Jing, Qi, and Shen) unite in the Original Palace; Metal and Wood naturally join, and the Dragon and Tiger are naturally subdued.

Before long, heaven and earth seem clear and cloudless, and within the Center of the Circle (a Neidan term for the central region where body and mind keep to the center) there appears a pearl the size of a millet grain, hanging in the Northern Sea and blazing with light. Silently circulate the Celestial Circuit; when the fire phases have run their full course, the Golden Fluid flows like cream, shaped like a millet grain, and rises to the Niwan like an ice pearl; suddenly a single drop falls into the Earthen Cauldron. This is the wonder of the union of Qian and Kun. All transformations are settled from here, and all illusory changes arise from here; the changes of hundreds of thousands of myriads of kalpas all sprout from this one point of vitality. This millet-like pearl will gradually grow larger and turn red. The key lies in grasping the crucial moment: the mechanism is established by oneself, transformation arises from the mechanism, and one mechanism can give rise to ten thousand transformations. The formless millet pearl truly transforms into a real, tangible thing. The Qi (the Zhouyi Cantongqi) says: "When the golden sand enters the five organs, mist disperses like wind and cloud; it steams through to the four limbs, and the complexion becomes lustrous and beautiful."

After the Golden Fluid has attached to the body, you must continue to refine and nourish it for ten months, and the fire phases must not be interrupted. Let each breath return to the root, continuous and unbroken, guarding it with the same focus as a hen brooding her egg or a dragon nurturing its pearl. Thoughts must not arise carelessly, for if a thought arises, the fire is too strong; the intent must not be scattered, for if it scatters, the fire turns cold. You must stay balanced, neither leaning to one side nor the other, and hold to the right measure, running two hexagrams each day, using the Zhun hexagram in the morning and the Meng hexagram in the evening. The oral formula says: "Six hundred rounds of the fire phases, each round meeting like the last." If the elixir fire grows hot, visualize a ball of black true water between the eyebrows and draw it into the cauldron, and the sensation of heat will subside. When the ten months are complete, the Infant appears (a Neidan term symbolizing the maturing of the Sacred Embryo); after that, shift the spirit to change cauldrons and coax the spirit out of its shell, cultivating in due order, and the Sacred Embryo will manifest and transform, its wonders without limit.

During cultivation, certain sensations of body and mind may arise. While sitting quietly, one may suddenly smell a strange fragrance, and sweet fluid may well up upon the tongue. One may seem to see the heavenly realms and the hells, with red auroral clouds circling above the head. The eyes grow bright as lightning; celestial music is heard in the ears; and nasal mucus flows down like pillars of jade. At times one feels the dragon and the tiger meeting, or the sun and the moon conjoining. One may also sense the five viscera and six bowels as if clearly visible, the body wrapped in golden light.

At times one feels a clear, cool liquid descending from above and flowing into the mouth. It should then be swallowed and sent down to the Dantian (energy center)—the abdominal site of cultivation spoken of in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy)—and must not be spat out. The scriptures call it the “Elixir.” One may also feel the true Qi (vital energy) of the kidneys set in motion, rising to the Niwan, a Neidan term for a center in the head, and descending to the Yongquan, the point on the sole of the foot. In the ears one seems to hear a thousand armies beating drums and ten thousand thunders crashing, like a fierce wind upheaving the earth. The body flushes red from top to bottom, as if fire were rising all over it. There may also be pain throughout the body, penetrating sinew and bone, coursing through the four limbs and the channels, the head as if split by an axe and the bones as if about to shatter. This may last three or five days, and one may even lose consciousness.

Some seem to hear celestial beings speaking. The mind suddenly opens and grows clear; mountains, rivers, and the lay of the land appear as if in the palm of the hand; and astronomy and geography, past and future, are all understood at once. The room seems to radiate light in every direction, and an unusual fragrance spreads all around. Suddenly one feels one’s spirit-consciousness, the Shen (spirit), leaving the body, and grows averse to the filth of a body made up of the “Four Great Elements”—earth, water, fire, and wind, which constitute the human person. This is said to be a sign of “the spirit going forth,” and the Shen should be drawn back at once.

After a thousand days of repeated practice, spiritual powers come freely to hand: one may eat a hundred meals in a single day and still not feel full, or go a hundred days without eating and not feel hungry; wine does not intoxicate, and neither cold nor heat can intrude. If the various experiences described above appear, one should apply oneself all the more diligently, and in the end pass beyond even the highest realm.

Since ancient times, immortals and sages who cultivate the egress of the spirit have had no other secret than this: one’s own primordial spirit—the original spirit of the human being—is transmuted by the golden liquid and then gently nurtured for ten months. When Qi (vital energy) is abundant and Shen (spirit) is numinous and quick, it can leave the flesh and form a body beyond the body. Its light shines upon the nine heavens; when gathered it can manifest form, and when dispersed it turns into Qi. The yin spirit cannot divide or transform itself, whereas the yang spirit can produce countless emanations, appearing and vanishing beyond prediction and changing without end. It walks between sun and moon yet casts no shadow, enters metal and stone without obstruction, and can reach a thousand or ten thousand li in an instant; it knows the affairs of past and future. This is what is meant by the saying, “What is sagely and cannot be fathomed is called Shen.”

When the crown gate—the cultivation site at the top of the head—first opens, it feels as if a great axe has split the skull; one must on no account panic. One should choose an auspicious day and hour of the yellow path, a traditionally selected lucky time, when the weather is clear and the Qi of the four seasons is pure and bright, and send the spirit out toward the three directions of Opening, Rest, and Life—auspicious directions in Daoist mantic arts. When it first leaves the body, it must circle to left and right and look back upon the spirit chamber, the place where the primordial spirit is lodged and nurtured. After practicing this nine times until fully proficient, one then disperses into the void the Qi of the five sprouts of the five viscera within the body—the living Qi corresponding to the five organs—so that they become auspicious clouds of five colors, and then lets the primordial spirit rise and enter among those clouds.

At this point one may see heavenly demons and heterodox paths, together with all manner of visions, come to entice the primordial spirit. If one is beguiled by them and departs never to return, falling into a demonic realm, one can only pass away in seated meditation. In practice one must hold fast with single-minded concentration, taking the golden light of the yang spirit as one’s guide; the scenes before the eyes will then gradually withdraw. Afterward one draws the primordial spirit back into the central palace—the cultivation center within the body—then unites it with the flesh so that it reappears before the body. The form that now manifests is identical to oneself; one must not lightly let it depart. Looking back at one’s own physical body, one will find it as filthy and repulsive as dung and dirt.

Next one retrieves the primordial spirit into the spirit chamber. Once coming and going has become fluent, one first takes a single step outward and then returns to the central palace, practicing this nine times. Thereafter one gradually practices two steps, four steps, five steps, ten steps, and so on up to a hundred steps, each time drawing it back and practicing nine times. One then practices in turn out to one li, three li, five li, ten li, a hundred li, a thousand li, and ten thousand li, until fully proficient. Only after one year, or five years, does one enter the grotto residence—the inner realm indicated in this cultivation—cultivate the primordial spirit, and return it to emptiness.

After three years of cultivating the Yang Spirit (yangshen, the pure yang spirit spoken of in Daoist practice) until it is fully mature, one must draw the Yang Spirit back into the Niwan spirit chamber (the inner site of cultivation at the center of the head). At this point one feels neither hunger nor thirst, nor is one affected by cold or heat. In going out and traveling afar—even as far as ten thousand li—one is as proficient as in earlier practice. Only after a further one to five years may one be said to have entered the grotto-abode and reached the stage of “refining spirit and returning to emptiness” (lianshen huanxu).

After three years in which the Yang Spirit has been cultivated to full maturity, it is to be gathered back into the Niwan spirit chamber. The practitioner is untroubled by hunger, thirst, cold, or heat, transcends the Three Realms (the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm), casts off the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—the five basic constituents of all things), lets go of attachment to Shen (spirit), and unites with emptiness. The Yang Spirit enters a realm without form or image, and one sees only a single expanse of light; Shen becomes one with the Great Void (Taixu, the vast emptiness) and shines as brightly as the sun and moon. The cosmos seems to lie wholly within oneself, and the transformations of the myriad things arise from the mind; one’s own Shen and Qi (vital energy) fill heaven and earth and reach every place. Above and below and in the four directions, all is as a single heaven and earth; in an instant one may travel ten thousand li, and the earth, mountains, and rivers seem illumined entire at a single glance. The bodily form drifts like a cloud in the void of space and moves without hindrance, like a boat sailing the four seas, alone transcending beyond the myriad things.

The myriad spirits return to a single Shen, and the myriad breaths return to a single Qi; everywhere there is my Shen. It can gather into form and disperse as Qi, becoming a golden body that endures through ten thousand kalpas without decay. As it is said: “A thousand rivers hold water, and the moon is reflected in a thousand places; when ten thousand li of sky are without clouds, ten thousand li are clear and bright.” Alas, though hundreds and thousands of sages seek its traces, they cannot find them, for its entire form has already withdrawn into the Great Void. If one cannot let go of attachment to Shen and unite with emptiness, one can manifest only a hundred or a thousand spirits—how then could one pervade the whole cosmos?