《证道一贯真机易简录》Vol. 1

Golden registers and jade books, fire dragons and water tigers—symbols in Daoist alchemical texts for the transformations of Yin and Yang—and writings of the highest truth were once thought to lie hidden in heavenly grottoes or stone chambers in famous mountains, encountered only through a fortunate coincidence. Who would have known that the secrets of Heaven are not written on bamboo or silk, and that the highest principles are actually here in the world?

Golden and jade fluids, names for subtle substances in Neidan cultivation; true Yin and true Yang, the original state in which Yin and Yang are harmonized; and the most exquisite medicines were once thought to be hidden in Heaven above or concealed in Earth below, so wondrous and unfathomable that they could scarcely be sought out. Who would have known that they are not far away or difficult to reach, but right before our eyes?

When the First Emperor of Qin made an eastern tour of Mount Tai, he sent young men and women out to sea to seek the medicine of immortality. Who would have known that the medicine was not in the sea, but in the mountains? Emperor Wu of Han built a dew-catching platform and an immortal’s palm, hoping to drink the golden nectar bestowed from Heaven. Who would have known that this golden nectar was not in Heaven, but on Earth? “Flowers that never fade bloom everywhere,” and “When flowers bloom everywhere, they lie beyond the river of love”—these sayings can both serve as proof.

Since the Most High began transmitting the Dao, its lineage has continued without interruption, and the responsibility for passing it on has rested with people. Master and disciple have transmitted it from heart to heart and from mouth to ear, without the slightest error; through the ages, it has remained one and the same. That is precisely what makes it so wondrous.

The secrets in the alchemical scriptures are often expressed through symbols. If they are misunderstood, Yin and Yang seem utterly separated; if they are understood, they blend like water and milk.

Principles can certainly be explained with words, but methods of cultivation must be conveyed orally, so that their crucial secrets can be pointed out. Once someone has indicated the key, one sees that the ten thousand volumes of alchemical scriptures amount, in the end, to familiar words, while cinnabar, mercury, lead, and silver—all common alchemical terms that symbolize elements of cultivation—are merely outward images. The principle is exceedingly subtle, yet the matter itself is exceedingly simple. It is like the painter Zhang Sengyou painting a dragon: once he added its eyes, the dragon soared into the sky. Without a master’s guidance, the dragon on the wall remains only a painting and cannot reveal its wondrous transformations.

From this we can understand that the world’s talk of mysteries and marvels is like looking at a lamp through paper, searching for a tree by picking leaves, or peering at the moon through a crack in a window. In the end, one sees only a part.

He had the material received from his teachers copied and printed as a book. He examined it against the Cantong qi and the Wuzhen pian, the secret methods of alchemical cultivation handed down by ancient sages and immortals, and the commentaries of various schools. He selected the clearest and most important passages, compiled them into a volume, and kept it safe in a chest.

The true and highest Dao is exceedingly simple and easy. Because its principles are simple, one can also grasp the principles underlying all things in the world. This is the fundamental mystery that runs through everything; it is not suited to casual transmission. I use it for my own understanding, not to seek confirmation from others. This is why I have written this preface.

On New Year’s Eve in the Guiyou year of the Jiaqing reign, 1813, written by Fu Jinquan of Jinxi, known as Master Jiyi, at Weiben Hall on Chaoyang Mountain.

General principles: the book’s structure and main ideas

Alchemical writings run to a hundred thousand words. Reading them is like sailing across a boundless sea: even with a compass to guide you, the journey can still seem endless. Here, the key teachings on cultivation are arranged by topic, including regulating the cauldron (bringing the conditions for alchemical work into harmony), gathering the medicine (collecting the Jing and Qi needed for refinement), applying the talisman (regulating the firing times according to their proper moments), stopping the fire, opening the passes (the gateways involved in cultivation), ingesting and nourishing, fetal breathing (breathing as subtle as that of a fetus), the emergence of the spirit, and the inner and outer landscapes described in the Huangting Jing. Readers should study these teachings attentively, reflect on them repeatedly, and allow them to come together in the mind. In time, they will naturally grasp the essentials.

This book draws widely on many kinds of classics and cites sources from far and near. By extracting passages from the scriptures and setting out their essential teachings, it parts the clouds to reveal the sun and makes the meaning easier to understand. Cultivation begins with deliberate practice and following methods; it does not treat quietude and Wuwei (non-action) as the sole path. It places the cultivation of De (Virtue) and the accumulation of good deeds first, and avoids the so-called “Three Peaks” arts, a kind of sexual cultivation. Though there are many alchemical texts, this book gathers the important teachings on cultivation from successive generations. Every sentence is a secret precept, and every word is precious. Later seekers of the Dao who read it need not search far and wide through the Daozang or pore over books of immortals to understand the mystery of the single gate, the one true path.

Bai Ziqing said, “A single sentence can bring together the meaning of ten thousand volumes of alchemical texts. Thus, ten thousand volumes of books amount to no more than one volume, and ten thousand sayings to no more than one sentence.” He also said, “A sentence or even half a sentence can wondrously reveal the profound principles. Why, then, read millions of alchemical texts?” But where, exactly, does that one sentence or half a sentence come from? If you have not yet met a teacher, wait patiently. The verses conceal the essentials of cultivation; you can study them carefully. When the candle flame is dim, the Torch of Wisdom can light the way; when crossing the sea, the Compassionate Ferry can help you reach the other shore. Since this is so, how could books be cast aside?

Cultivating nature and life is, in essence, a unified practice. Gathering the elixir ingredients—the vital essences used in Neidan—and moving the talisman, or regulating the firing process according to established methods, are not fundamentally governed by two different principles. Those who understand should consider this carefully.

Cultivation requires the method, resources, companions, and a suitable place; none can be lacking. The cauldron and furnace, and the talismanic fire—terms that in Neidan serve as metaphors for body and mind, and for the regulation of the firing process—must remain consistent from beginning to end. These principles must be understood.

Cultivation begins with laying the foundation and ends with nurturing the embryo of the elixir, as an infant is nourished. Once the ingredients have matured and the firing process has changed, one settles calmly in the realm of Wuwei (non-action). From there, one refines the “Elixir of the Spirit That Lifts the Household,” which enables body and spirit to transcend. Having fully awakened to one’s original nature of true emptiness, one can endure alongside the Dao, without end.

Volume One: General Discussion

In the “Chapter on Dao and De” of Wu Yun’s Treatise on the Framework of the Mysterious, it says: “The Dao is the pivot of emptiness and nonbeing, the root of transformation and creation, the source of the spirits, and the origin of Heaven and Earth. It is so vast that nothing lies beyond it, and so minute that nothing lies within it. Boundless in its breadth and depth, dark and profound, it has nothing that can stand against it. It is so subtle as to be imperceptible, yet it gives forth light. It is utterly still and without self-interest, yet it gives each thing its own form. It is blended and formless, silent and still; the myriad forms arise from it, and the five tones take shape through it. All things that come into being have an end, and all things that take form eventually decline. The ceaseless birth and renewal of things, their transformation and formation, follow a principle unchanged from ancient times to the present. This is called the Dao.”

De (Virtue/Power) is the force bestowed by Heaven and Earth and relied upon by Yin and Yang. It runs through the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and orders the four seasons. Rulers govern by it, and teachers instruct through it. All things, whether hidden or manifest, animal or plant, thereby find their proper place. Its beneficence flows on for ages, yet living beings do not know to give thanks for its work; its gifts are without limit, yet the people do not realize that they depend upon its power. This is what is called “De.”

That which lets all things flow freely and thereby brings them into being is called the Dao (the Way); for this reason, the Dao has no fixed name. The Dao gathers power and brings all things to completion; this is called De. De itself is difficult to describe in words. Let us now try to explain it.

When the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the undifferentiated origin of Heaven, Earth, and all things, moves, it divides into Yin and Yang. Yin and Yang mingle and transform, giving rise to all things. All things exist between Heaven and Earth, where the forces of nature shift and circulate, and light and darkness each take their own forms. Yang Qi is bright and upright; its pure essence becomes true spirits. Yin Qi is shadowy and perverse; its essence becomes demons and specters. Thus, those born imbued with the luminous spirit of Yang Qi become wise and perceptive, while those who grow by relying on the turbid darkness of Yin Qi become vicious and stubborn. Yang Qi delights in nurturing life, so the wise and perceptive are often benevolent and gentle. Yin Qi inclines toward killing, so the vicious and stubborn are often contrary and violent. Those in whom good and evil are mixed are born of Yin and Yang in balanced combination; they are what people commonly call ordinary persons.

Since these three kinds of people each receive a different endowment, whom can instruction transform? It is ordinary people who can be influenced by it. Why? The wise and perceptive understand reason without being taught, while the vicious and stubborn are difficult to change even when taught. Both kinds have received the pure Qi of one side of Yin-Yang. It is like fire: it can be extinguished, but cannot be made cold; ice can melt, but cannot be made hot. Such is the nature of things.

The Dao enables me to come into being, and Shen (spirit), the force that grants life and awareness, endows me with my nature. Yet people’s lifespans differ; their thoughts and desires race in every direction; and they cannot determine for themselves whether they live or die, remain or depart. Why is this so?

When human nature is driven by desires and passions, our feelings and intentions turn away from the Dao, and we are pulled along by the forces of transformation, unable to direct ourselves. To go beyond the bounds of life and death and settle the mind in a state of freedom and self-sufficiency, we should take the Dao as our teacher and Shen as our friend.

Why is this so? The Dao and Shen do not act willfully, so Qi comes into being naturally; they do not engage in deliberate thought, so all things come to fulfillment on their own. Though human beings live among all things, they can transcend the limits of life and death. Thus the noble person casts aside likes and desires, settles the mind in a state of freedom and self-sufficiency, and takes the Dao as teacher and Shen as friend.

The noble person must also set aside cleverness and contrivance, and avoid being led by the sights and sounds that reach the senses: seeming to see color without clinging to color, seeming to hear sound without clinging to sound. The mind is tranquil and detached, pure and focused; the body is harmonious, and the spirit is clear. Entering the “Mysterious and Subtle,” a state beyond ordinary perception, and forgetting the body, one can unite with the most subtle Dao. This is the foundation of returning to oneself and becoming one again with the Dao. Creation and transformation cannot alter such a person, and ghosts and spirits cannot discern them—how much less can ordinary people?

One who understands the Great Dao remains at peace in the heart even while roaming beyond the cosmos, and Qi continues to flow naturally even when dwelling in the tiniest space. Without a tranquil mind, one cannot unite with the Dao; without harmonious breathing, the body cannot be preserved. Preserving the body and uniting the mind with the Dao: this is the De of Heaven and Earth.

Thus, to act without being aware that one is acting is to transcend action; to be still without being aware that one is still is to transcend stillness. One who transcends action is not driven by Yang Qi; one who transcends stillness is not shifted by Yin Qi. Neither Yin nor Yang can alter such a person, and all things are even less able to do so. Not being enticed by external things is called “ultimate stillness.” Ultimate stillness can unite with “ultimate emptiness.” When emptiness reaches its limit, it becomes clear; when clarity reaches its limit, it becomes luminous; when luminosity reaches its limit, it becomes all-penetrating. At that point, the vastness of Heaven and Earth and the profusion of all things cannot escape the mirror-like clarity of the mind, no bigger than a square inch.

The Dao encompasses the myriad things, yet cannot be called vast. It reaches through what is as fine as an autumn hair, yet cannot be called small. It precedes the void, yet one cannot say it has a beginning; it comes after Heaven and Earth, yet one cannot say it will end. It rises as clear Yang, yet cannot simply be called brightness; it sinks into heavy Yin, yet cannot simply be called darkness.

The Dao originally has no spirit. When emptiness and stillness reach their utmost, spirit arises naturally. The Dao originally has no Qi (vital energy); when spirit moves, Qi changes along with it. Qi originally has no substance or form; after gathering and condensing, it takes shape. Form originally has no desires, but through activity and use it comes to wear down its nature. As form takes shape and feelings are stirred, people move farther and farther from the Dao. They therefore sink into the transformations of life and death, swept along by the cycles of Yin-Yang, unable to bring them to a halt by themselves. This is not because the Dao has left people; it is because people have lost their way in the Dao.

The Dao can bring being forth from nonbeing. Can it not also return being to nonbeing? If being can join with nonbeing, it will not be destroyed.

When Yin and Yang come together, a person is born. The hun is the Yang spirit, while the po is the Yin soul. As the fetus forms and breath moves within it, the body gradually takes shape. Yet the forces of Yin and Yang cannot remain complete in combination forever; in the end, each returns to its source. Thus, when Yin grows strong, Yang Qi is exhausted and a person dies. When Yang grows strong, Yin recedes and a person becomes an immortal.

Gentleness, kindness, purity, and clarity belong to Yang; harshness, jealousy, lust, and turbidity belong to Yin. When the mind is calm, detached, and still, harmonious Yang Qi enters. When the mind is restless and greedy, Yin Qi takes advantage of the opening and enters. Understanding these two states, and allowing Yang Qi to prevail while Yin lies dormant, is the beginning of the path to long life.

In cultivating the Dao, one should not cling to thoughts, for clinging prevents true Qi from gathering. Nor should one fall into a state of complete thoughtlessness, lest external harmful influences take the opportunity to settle within. As long as the mind remains centered, everything external will fall into its proper place. As soon as the mind becomes attached to a thought, what is external can readily appear distorted or askew. Whether what comes is harmful or upright depends on oneself.

Therefore, if those seeking the Dao grow lax in maintaining right awareness, the Yin Corpse—the symbol of turbid, stagnant Qi—will gain the upper hand. If they gladly apply themselves with diligence and single-mindedness, the Yang spirit, a spiritual force belonging to Yang, will gain the upper hand. If they alternate between laxity and diligence, the outcome remains undecided. A lesser method of cultivation is to restrain desires and discipline one’s conduct, keeping the will focused and persevering without interruption. With sustained practice, the Yin Corpse gradually fades and the Yang spirit takes its place as master. This is called the victory of Yang. When Yang Qi prevails, one draws near to the Dao.

When the body moves, the mind moves with it. To be lax at one moment and diligent the next shows that the struggle within the mind has not yet been settled. Further cultivation requires restraining oneself, curbing desire, and strengthening one’s conduct, so that the mind and spirit remain focused without interruption. If one can persist over a long period, until the physical form wanes and Shen (spirit) takes charge, this is called “Yang prevailing,” when Yang Qi gains the upper hand. Once Yang prevails, one draws near to the Dao (the Way).

The body may move while the mind remains still; the spirit and intent may be settled even as one’s outward actions continue to change. This is called Wuwei (non-action), acting without imposing one’s will. When alone and at rest, the mind and spirit may be in turmoil: outwardly one sits silently, while inwardly one’s thoughts race in every direction. This is called “action,” when the mind moves recklessly. Wuwei accords with the nature of things, while such restless action readily causes disorder. Though Wuwei may seem easy, only a person of keen insight can examine it and understand it fully.

Heaven and Earth do not act willfully, by day or by night. Wuwei is consistent in itself, yet the order and disorder that appear differ. Why is this? Day does not deliberately create brightness; Yang Qi becomes manifest and Yin Qi withdraws. Night does not deliberately create darkness; Yin Qi moves while Yang Qi comes to rest. Thus, when a ruler is clear-sighted and practices Wuwei, loyal and worthy people can be appointed, treacherous people withdraw, and the realm comes to peace. When a ruler is benighted and acts willfully, loyal and worthy people are rejected, treacherous people gain influence, and the realm falls into disorder. The Wuwei of an enlightened person comes from wisdom; the Wuwei of a benighted person comes from ignorance. Wisdom brings one into accord with the Dao, while ignorance leaves one entangled in worldly affairs.

Those who cultivate the highest Dao sometimes set their thoughts on lofty realms, at ease and content, nourishing what is original within them. Here, “nourishing the original” means harmonizing and protecting one’s true Qi and innate nature.

The key to drawing near to the true immortals and ascending to the heavens is to let Shen govern oneself. Yet even when Shen is in command, one must guard against the dispersal of Yang and harmony, lest pernicious Yin Qi enter through the opening. One can enter a quiet room, still the mind, suppress thoughts as soon as they arise, and remain calm and focused, so that Shen does not scatter and the Yang spirit is preserved. Be careful not to indulge in ease and pleasure, lest this invite the intrusion of pernicious Yin.

If states such as impatience, contentiousness, agitation, or irritability arise, this shows that the hun and po associated with the physical body are being refined by the Yang spirit. The accumulated Qi of the Yin Corpse—a term in cultivation referring to heavy, stagnant, turbid Qi—is about to disperse and disturb the true essence of the Crimson Palace, the inner alchemical chamber associated with the heart. At such times, enter a quiet room, visualize the One Qi, and practice holding firm, a seated posture in which the fingers are curled into fists. Wait until Shen is clear, Qi is calm, and the mind is settled, then return to emptiness and stillness. This, too, is a way of cleansing the mind.

Words should not exceed what you actually do, and your actions should never betray your conscience. If you can keep to this, Heaven and Earth will favor you, and the spirits will protect you. Calamities and adversity will find no opening to take hold, and ghosts and spirits will be unable to trouble you. By contrast, if your words sound fine but your conduct is corrupt, and you proclaim yourself virtuous while acting shamefully, then no matter how well you conceal it outwardly, inwardly you will still feel ashamed. Heaven and Earth will reject such a person, and the spirits will punish him. Even great strength cannot win him the Dao. So it is better to endure people’s slander than to incur Heaven’s punishment. The slander of other people can be dispelled; Heaven’s retribution is hard to escape.

What the Great Dao most abhors is sexual misconduct, killing, and secretly harming others; these are indeed easy to give up. Subtle feelings of joy and anger, judgments of right and wrong, and choices between things are part of ordinary human nature, yet they are difficult to notice and restrain. Even the smallest matter can stir the heart. As long as your thoughts are calm and your spirit at ease, corrupt influences cannot enter; when your mind and will are undisturbed, you can keep company with the perfected.

Even the wise and accomplished are not immune to loving praise and thereby attracting further slander. But if you reflect and find that you have done nothing good, yet receive praise, that is inauspicious. If you examine yourself and find no fault, what harm can slander do?

The essences of Yang Qi are called hun and shen; the essences of Yin Qi are called shi and po. When shen and Qi prevail, a person does good; when shi and po prevail, a person does evil. Restraining evil thoughts and bringing good deeds to the fore sets body and mind in order. Forgetting good deeds and indulging evil thoughts throws body and mind into disorder. If you hold fast to the right way for a long time, shi will disappear and po will be refined. If disorder persists, shen will depart and hun will disperse. When shi has vanished and po has been refined, shen joins with the body, and one becomes an immortal. When shen departs and hun disperses, only shi and po remain, and one becomes a ghost. This is the natural way of things.

The eyes delight in vivid colors, the mind chases fame, the body craves light and striking adornments, the mouth longs to taste rare delicacies, the ears covet pleasing sounds, and the nose delights in fragrant scents. These six desires all harm De (Virtue/Power), injure one’s nature, and deplete the vital energy that gives the person clarity of spirit. So, if you possess such things, keep your distance from them; if you do not, there is no need to pursue them deliberately.

Clothing and food are necessary to human life, but for those who cultivate the Dao (the Way), attachment to them is also a failing. Simply open your heart, follow things as they naturally unfold, and the necessities of life will be met. Heaven and Earth nurture birds and beasts, covering their bodies with feathers and feeding them insects and grain. How much more so will they provide for human beings? The key is to forget your own desires and let nature take its course.

When awake, one joins with Yang Qi; when asleep, one responds to Yin Qi. The more one stays awake, the stronger the Hun-soul; the longer one sleeps, the more robust the Po-soul. A strong Hun-soul belongs to the side of life, while a robust Po-soul belongs to the side of death. It would be best to take in the original, harmonious Qi (the pure, balanced energy between Heaven and Earth), care little for flavors, and keep the spirit clear and the breath at ease—even to the point of staying awake both day and night.

If the mind is allowed to chase desires for a long time, it will surge outward and scatter, making it hard to turn back. If it is abruptly brought to a halt, it will feel constricted, as if trapped within bounds. Letting it run free obscures one’s nature; forcibly reining it in exhausts the Original Shen (the source of a person’s spirit). So how, then, can someone seeking the Dao become still?

Human nature is originally settled and stable; it changes only when stirred by external things. When one has long been accustomed to agitation, how can one become calm all at once? Since agitation can become unsettled through habit, stillness too can become peaceful and at ease through practice. Those who practice well have an inner quiet that is spacious and unhurried. Those who practice poorly only become troubled, with nothing to show for it.

Therefore, use calm to restrain agitation, uprightness to guard against wayward thoughts, letting go to curb greed, and clarity to settle what is muddied. Be at ease and content, without craving or scheming; whether moving or resting, in haste or at leisure, remain settled in this way. With long practice, external things will no longer disturb the mind, and the spirit will be able to illuminate all things from within. Without deliberately seeking stillness, you will naturally become calm. As the ancients said, “Repeated practice makes a habit”—is this not what they meant?

Someone asked, “Many people throughout history have studied the Way, yet very few have truly attained it. Why is that?”

The reply was, “Of a thousand ordinary people who study the Way, only one truly understands its principles. Of a thousand who understand them, only one resolves to seek the Way. Of a thousand who resolve to seek it, only one devotes themselves wholeheartedly to diligent practice. And of a thousand who practice diligently, only one perseveres in that practice over the long term. Thus, although many people study, few ultimately achieve anything.

The ancients said, ‘Accumulated habits become the norm.’ This means that habits built up over a long time become one’s usual way of life. It is precisely this principle that the saying describes.”

Someone asked, “Becoming an immortal is the highest state a person can attain, and death is what people detest most. Every gentleman in the world knows these truths. Yet many follow worldly ways of life, while few cultivate the Way of the Immortals. Why?”

The reply was, “The reason is that people are endowed with different temperaments. If one’s nature is not lofty enough, one’s aspirations will be narrow; then one becomes absorbed in immediate concerns and cannot see far ahead, worn down by pleasures of sight and sound and blinded by desire. The Way of the Immortals values genuine cultivation, while worldly human relationships value outward show. The two are diametrically opposed.

“Renounce every kind of wrongdoing and cultivate every kind of good. Make your conduct complete and your person pure. Even if you see no results throughout your life, do not retreat or grow lax. Hold fast to the Great Dao; even at the point of death, do not compromise your aspirations or integrity. In general, accumulate blessings and good deeds outwardly, and gather spirit inwardly. Only when your efforts within and without are deep can you enter the ranks of the immortals and wander through the grotto-heavens, the blessed caverns where immortals dwell.

“Those who have attained the Dao, from ancient times to the present, have all possessed both blessings and wisdom. Wisdom is like a flame, and blessings are like lamp oil: without oil, the flame cannot shine brightly. Likewise, wisdom without blessings cannot remain secure for long. Thus, people of understanding would rather exhaust themselves than damage their blessings. Even if worldly people are naturally clever and widely learned, without cultivating further good deeds they will never uncover the mysteries at the source of the Great Dao.

“The sages of ancient and present times who attained the Dao all understood the same Great Dao, but their blessings and Virtue differed in depth. Those with great merit in the world hold higher ranks among the immortals; those with fewer good deeds attain lower ranks. Therefore, even sages in Heaven may descend to the human world again if their good deeds are not yet complete, to repay karmic debts from the past. The human world is polluted and perilous, making cultivation difficult, but merit can be accumulated quickly. Heaven is pure and tranquil, and life is easy, but merit accumulates more slowly.

“Xuanyuan, the legendary Yellow Emperor, once lived in Heaven for a long time. Later, after discussing how to spread merit widely, he descended to the human world. In his first life he was a commoner, in his second a minister, and in his third a ruler. He aided living beings and brought benefit to the people; only after completing his merit did he become an immortal and depart. As for the underworld, its government is like that of the human world, with jurisdictions in every region. Those who serve there as officials are all people who accumulated merit during their lives.”

My original mind is empty and clear, like my true nature before it was obscured by worldly affairs. If one becomes a ruler in the world, one should succor all things and benefit living beings; only after one’s work is complete should one leave the world and become an immortal. The underworld, too, is like the human realm: every inch of land and every patch of sky has its own jurisdiction. Those who hold authority there are all people who performed meritorious deeds in life.

My original mind is empty and clear—but what, exactly, is it? It is deep and unfathomable, elusive and hard to grasp. It cannot be understood through ordinary perception or apprehended by discriminating thought. We can only call it, for want of a better name, the Dao (the Way), spirit, nature, or life; each name refers to this mind. Seen in this light, is it not great and precious?

Why, then, do people circulate through the cycle of birth and death, unable to direct their own course? Because when a thought stirs within, the six faculties of sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and mind turn toward external things. If they do not incline toward goodness, they turn toward evil. Hence there are heavens and hells, and the retribution of cause and effect. People transmigrate through the six realms of gods, humans, asuras, animals, hungry ghosts, and hell beings, with no end to be seen. How could this fail to bring sorrow and grief?

Those who understand the Way are different. Through fasting and purification, they clarify their De (Virtue), and through this, their pure nature becomes clear and still, dispelling every kind of misfortune. From then on, they speak with care, eat in moderation, cast off defiling thoughts, quiet the mind, and hold to a single purpose. Their state of mind is empty and tranquil, still and free from action. They turn their gaze inward and gather their spirit, temper their sharpness, and live in harmony with the world. As soon as a thought arises, they recognize it as a deviation. Preventing it from developing further is the way to counter it.

There is no need to fear the arising of thoughts; what matters is whether you notice them too late. People with hair comb it every day. Why should those with bodies and thoughts not tend to themselves in the same way, moment by moment? Thoughts that have just arisen are illusory; what transcends past and present and is never destroyed is the constant Dao. Perhaps only those who understand the Great Dao can recognize what is truly constant and unchanging.

Shangyangzi said, “The Dao is the foundation that lets Heaven and Earth each rest in their proper place and nurtures the myriad things. It raises up the sun and moon and generates the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water). It is present everywhere, as countless as the sands of the Ganges. It stands alone, without a companion: it reaches straight back to before chaos first opened, then returns to the vast, undifferentiated source. It can gather the creative power of Heaven and Earth, enabling people in an instant to transcend the distinction between sages and ordinary beings.

“Before any signs have appeared, the Dao can suddenly reveal its wondrous workings. It can also make the changes of life and death plainly visible before people’s eyes, leaving them no escape. It dwells in lowly, defiled places, yet possesses the highest honor; it abides in darkness, yet reaches the utmost clarity. The Dao has eyes that perceive all things, yet no eyes; ears that reach all things, yet does not rely on hearing; a mouth that can swallow the waters of the Western River, yet no teeth; a nose bearing all manner of wondrous fragrance, yet it does not smell; and a tongue that can decide life and death, yet is not confused by taste. It has a Dharma body as firm as vajra—the true body spoken of by practitioners—free and unhindered. It has a sword that symbolizes the decision between life and death, which even warriors dare not wield lightly. Though the meaning of the Dao can be summed up in a single word, scholars cannot capture it in language.

“Though the Dao is dark and profound, it must not be casually disparaged; it can reveal itself even in secret. Though it is steep and towering, like a cliff tens of thousands of feet high, one can venture across it without fear. It is so subtle that it enters the tiniest particles of dust, and so vast that it contains Heaven and Earth. It can transform the formless into form and enable people to become Buddhas or immortals. The five thousand and forty-eight Buddhist scriptures do not reach its end; the thirty-three chapters of the Doctrine of the Mean do not exhaust it; and the five thousand words of the Dao De Jing do not attain its utmost. What, then, is the Dao? In a single word, it is Qi.

“The movement of Qi is something on which all things between Heaven and Earth depend. It moves beyond Heaven and Earth, enveloping them…”

The movement of Qi (vital energy) is a principle followed by all things between Heaven and Earth. Beyond Heaven and Earth, it encompasses and covers them; within them, it drives their workings. Thus the sun, moon, and stars shine; winds, clouds, thunder, and rain change; and the myriad things pass through the seasons of growth, ripening, gathering, and storage. This is the Qi of Yin-Yang change between Heaven and Earth, through which the myriad things come into being.

The human body, too, contains the Qi of Heaven and Earth’s Yin-Yang transformations. If one can obtain and use this Qi, then unite it with one’s own true mercury—a symbolic term in Neidan cultivation, often referring to Yang within Yin or true Jing (essence)—one can attain the highest Dao (the Way).

The Huangting Jing (Scripture of the Yellow Court) says: “Alone, I take in the Qi of Great Harmony, Yin and Yang; thus I can live long, as though my nature had joined with Heaven.” It also says: “Immortals and those who cultivate the Dao are not born with supernatural powers. They refine themselves into the Real by accumulating Jing and Qi.” It further says: “Clear Qi emerges, mysterious Qi enters; the two breaths mingle and circulate. If one encounters and masters this opportunity for cultivation, one may ascend to the River of Heaven.”

The Yijing (Classic of Changes) says: “When the sun has run its course, the moon rises; when the moon has run its course, the sun rises.” It also says: “Opening and closing are called change; their ceaseless movement back and forth is called free passage.” Zhang Hengqu, a thinker of the Northern Song, said: “A person’s breathing is much like the mutual friction of firmness and yielding, and the transformations of Heaven and Earth opening and closing.” The Ziyang Tiaoxi Zhen (Admonition on Regulating the Breath by Ziyang), a guide to breath-regulation practice, says: “The breaths mingle and blend, opening and closing in change, their subtle workings without end. What governs them? This is the efficacy of Wuwei (non-action), in which things come about naturally.”

The Baopuzi says: “I once consulted books on nourishing life and cultivating one’s nature, gathering methods for pursuing longevity. The chapters and volumes involved numbered in the thousands, and all of them regarded the Returning Elixir—the art of refining elixirs—and the Golden Liquor—the art of refining Golden Liquor elixirs—as their most important subjects. These two methods are the highest arts of cultivating the Way of the Immortals.

“In the past, warfare broke out in the Central Plains, and people scattered in every direction. I traveled from place to place through Xuzhou, Yuzhou, Jingzhou, Xiangzhou, Jiangzhou, Guangzhou, and other regions, where I met many Daoist practitioners among the people. Some I had heard of long before; their reputations had even spread beyond the clouds. Yet in practice they were much the same: whether their knowledge and experience were deep or shallow, abundant or scant, there was little to distinguish one from another. I often asked them about divine elixirs and Golden Liquor, about the Sanhuang wen (Scripture of the Three Sovereigns), and about methods for summoning the gods of Heaven and Earth, but not one of them understood these things.

“Long ago, Zuo Yuanfang devoted himself to cultivation on Mount Tianzhu, where a divine being transmitted to him the immortal scripture of the Golden Elixir. Just then, great disorder broke out at the end of the Han dynasty. He had no time to refine the elixir, so he fled across the river to the east, intending to practice this art at a famous mountain. My great-granduncle, the Immortal Master, later learned the method from Zuo Yuanfang. What he passed on to me included the three volumes of the Taixing danjing (Scripture of the Great Clarity Elixir), one volume of the Jiuding danjing (Scripture of the Nine Tripods Elixir), and one volume of the Jinye danjing (Scripture of the Golden Liquor Elixir).

“My teacher, Master Zheng, was a disciple of my great-granduncle, the Immortal Master, and he too learned these scriptures and methods from him. But his family was poor, and he could not afford the ingredients needed for refining elixirs. I personally served him, sweeping and cleaning for him over a long period. Later, he established an altar on Mount Maji. After swearing an oath with me, he transmitted the scriptures and methods, along with some oral instructions that had never been written down. These books had not previously been found east of the Yangtze. Zuo Yuanfang passed them to my great-granduncle, who passed them to Master Zheng, and Master Zheng finally passed them to me. That is why the other Daoist practitioners do not know of them.

“After tasting jade syrup, one finds ordinary gruel and water-lily soup insipid; after seeing the Kunlun Mountains, one understands how low a small mound is. Once people have read the Way of the Golden Elixir, they no longer wish to study other arts and techniques. Yet refining the Great Medicine is ultimately very difficult, so for the time being one can only take lesser medicines to sustain the body. No matter how many other medicines one takes, they cannot make a person live forever. Some people in the world love cultivating the Dao but have never encountered this method or met a true teacher, and so have no way of knowing that such a wondrous art exists in the world. I will now briefly excerpt the essentials of the Golden Elixir, correct the text, and leave it for people of like mind in the future.”

The Baopuzi says: “Some people say that life belongs to oneself and is the greatest treasure. In terms of worth, even the honored position of emperor cannot compare with this art of preserving life. In terms of importance, even the whole world cannot be exchanged for this practice. That is why people say, ‘Better to be a living mouse than a dead king.’”

The Baopuzi says: “People are always eager to pursue power, profit, and desire. But once they are gone, even if they held high office and great authority, owned heaps of gold and jade, and had seen countless beautiful women, none of these things would belong to them anymore.”

The Baopuzi says: “According to the immortals’ scriptures, all those who cultivate the Dao and become immortals are destined for it: they happen to receive the energy of the immortals and are therefore born with the innate capacity to understand the Great Dao. Once they come of age, they take an interest in becoming immortals, and they are sure to encounter a wise teacher and learn the methods of cultivation. Otherwise, even if someone tells them about it, they will not believe; even if they believe, they will not seek it out. Throughout history, there have been exceptionally gifted and perceptive people who did not believe they had the capacity to become immortals; there have also been people of ordinary ability who became immortals through study and practice. Person A may be widely learned yet remain unaware of the Way of the Immortals; Person B may know little about many things yet happen to understand its principles. Is this not the result of what Heaven has ordained?”

The Baopuzi says: Time rushes by like a fierce wind, and people soon pass from youth into old age, so quickly that it is hard to find anything to compare it with. Even if a person lives to one hundred, that is only a little more than thirty thousand days. In childhood, the body is frail and one does not yet understand many things; in old age, strength and vitality decline, and most pleasures fade away. Once the years of childhood ignorance and old-age confusion are subtracted, along with the unending illnesses and troubles, only about half of life remains for truly peaceful living. Even someone who reaches a full hundred years has only fifty or sixty years of joy and peace.

In the blink of an eye, those days will be spent. A person spends only six or seven thousand days in sorrow, decline, and confusion, and by the time they look back, the end is already near. Besides, fewer than one person in ten thousand lives to a full hundred. On reflection, people have little right to mock the short lives of summer insects or the morning-born fungi that perish by night. As the saying goes, every day a person lives is one day less; like a cow or sheep being led to slaughter, with every step one comes closer to death.

The reason clear-minded people do not grieve over death is not that they do not seek long life, but that they know of no way to escape death. Worrying to no purpose will accomplish nothing, so they say one should follow the principles of Heaven, accept one’s fate, and put aside grief. Do they truly have no wish to live longer?

The Baopuzi says: Who among those who have a head and breathe does not love life and fear death? Yet wealth, status, power, and advantage entice the mind; beautiful faces beguile the eyes; pleasing music unsettles the ears; desire and concern over gains and losses disturb the spirit; fame and reputation bind body and mind. These things come of their own accord, without being deliberately sought, and it is easy to become absorbed in them without ever having to learn how.

Unless someone can study deeply on their own, discern the principles of things, understand transformations beyond the ordinary, and keep sound judgment in the depths of quietude; unless they understand that fame is not closely connected to their own person, and reflect that life is as brief as a flash of lightning, how could they give up socializing and pleasure, restrain their own appetites, set aside immediate desires, and devote themselves to an undertaking that is difficult to accomplish yet looks toward the distant future?

Things with form arise from the formless, and the body depends on the spirit to endure. Formed things are the dwelling place of the formless; the body is the spirit’s dwelling. This is like a dike: when it breaks, it can no longer hold back the water. It is also like a candle: once the candle itself has burned away, the flame has nowhere to rest. When the body is overtaxed, the spirit becomes scattered; when the breath is exhausted, life comes to an end. When a tree’s roots dry up, its branches and leaves lose their green, however lush they may be. When vitality is spent and desire prevails, the vital spirit that sustains life leaves the body. Life that has passed will not return, and what has decayed cannot come back to life. Those who have grasped the Great Dao truly grieve over this. Is there not good reason for them to cherish time as dearly as jade? That is why they regard high office and generous stipends as burdensome growths on the body, and all things as light as a cicada’s wing. They do not say this to boast or to force themselves to look down on worldly affairs; they have seen through them, and so can set them aside as if they had forgotten them.

The Baopuzi says: Once the elixirs have been refined, the whole family can become immortal; it is not only the person who refined them.

The Baopuzi says: Those who understand this path of cultivation need not rely on the power of princes and kings. Once the divine elixir has been refined, it can not only grant long life, but can also be used to make gold.

The Baopuzi says:

The Baopuzi says: Those who understand this path of cultivation need not rely on the power of princes and kings. Once the divine elixir has been refined, it can not only grant long life, but can also be used to make gold.

The Baopuzi says, “By cultivating this Way, one can attain long life. The Way of long life is the highest realm within the Dao, which is why the ancients valued it so greatly.”

The Baopuzi also says, “Who can fully grasp these mysterious, hidden methods of cultivation? Once you have mastered their essentials, you need not be a sage or a person of exceptional intelligence to succeed; ordinary people can do it too.”

The Baopuzi further says, “Even if one can live for a long time without dying, one’s original body does not change. If one has mastered the appropriate methods, this is not difficult to achieve.”

The Baopuzi says, “My teacher once admonished his disciples: ‘A person seeking the Dao should be as urgent as someone worried about poverty in the household or anxious about holding a low position. How could the Dao then remain out of reach? The only concern is that one’s resolve may be weak, that one may focus only on what lies before them and forget the long term. At first, upon hearing of it, one is filled with joy and eagerly draws near, but before long one suddenly casts it from mind. A tree gains even from the smallest growth, while a hill is steadily worn away. How, then, could one plumb the subtlety of the highest principles and reach a boundless, lofty realm?’”

Zhang Ziyang, a Daoist practitioner of Neidan, writes in the preface to his Wuzhen pian: “Alas! The human body is hard to obtain, yet time passes easily. No one can predict the length of life; how can one escape the consequences of one’s misdeeds? If one does not awaken in time, but simply accepts one’s fate and waits for life to end, then at the moment of death, even the slightest error in one’s thoughts may lead to the Three Evil Destinies—the Buddhist realms of hell, hungry ghosts, and animals—and one will endure ages upon ages with no hope of escape. By then, even regret will come too late. Therefore, the Yellow Emperor and Laozi opened a convenient path through the study of nature and life: the cultivation of body and mind and the investigation of life’s foundations. They taught people to cultivate themselves in order to escape birth and death.”

In Three Commentaries on the Wuzhen pian, Patriarch Daoguang says, “No matter how eloquently one argues, like a flowing stream, it amounts to no more than discussing Chan and the Dao, or sitting in meditation alone. Even after millions upon millions of kalpas, this will ultimately neither preserve life nor bring long life.”

“This Way is not something everyone in the world can hear of. Only those who have accumulated great virtue and goodness are permitted to seek and cultivate it.”

In The Three Commentaries, Shangyangzi says, “Alas, every one of these matters is difficult to carry out. How would I dare act recklessly, or speak about them casually? There are people in this world who are destined to fall into hell: they open their mouths to talk about Chan and the Dao, yet remain unrepentant until they die of old age.

“There are also people who think themselves clever. Instead of examining what immortals and sages have done, they disparage cultivation, saying that since people are born, they must die, so how could there be a Dao that endures without decline? Such people are destined to fall into hell and willingly suffer in the cycle of rebirth.”

In The Three Commentaries, Lu Ziye says, “Neidan cultivation is quite similar to Waidan alchemical compounding, with its furnaces and elixirs. Broadly speaking, mercury (an alchemical term that here refers to an important ingredient in Neidan cultivation) cannot be controlled without lead. Once you understand the principles of Waidan, Neidan becomes easier to understand.

“Cultivation begins with deliberate effort and ultimately reaches Wuwei, a state of not forcing things and following nature. The realm of Wuwei is where true immortals dwell.”

Jiyizi says, “People in the world merely sit motionless and cultivate on their own, yet foolishly hope to achieve something. It is like placing your feet on your head and walking upside down, against all reason.”

In The Three Commentaries, Daoguangzu says, “The ignorant think that the Chan school we teach promises sudden enlightenment and Buddhahood just from hearing a single phrase. This deceives and misleads the foolish. How could such a thing be possible? You should understand that the Golden Elixir, the central goal of Daoist Neidan cultivation, is the supreme and wondrous method of our tradition.”

Shangyangzi says, “Anyone who cultivates this Daoist method must live in this defiled world of the Five Turbidities, while practicing a way that transcends the secular world.” He also says, “To cultivate the Golden Elixir, one must first accumulate hidden De through good deeds done without seeking recognition.”

Chaoyuanzi says, “Ultimately, life and death are governed by Heaven and Earth; a person’s nature and life are originally connected to mercury and lead. Does this not show that I can control my own destiny instead of submitting to Heaven’s decree?”

The Memorial of Huangfu Long in Reply to Emperor Wu of Wei says: “I have heard that, between Heaven and Earth, human beings are the most honored, and that life is the most precious thing they possess. Heaven and Earth have endured through immeasurable ages since antiquity; human beings live within them, yet life is as brief as a flash of lightning. Whenever I think of this, I am overwhelmed with emotion and troubled at heart. Life does not come again, and time once gone cannot be recovered. Why not follow the natural pattern of life to nurture body and mind, cherish oneself, and thereby lengthen one’s life? This should be achieved through cultivating the Dao. The principle is easy enough to understand; what is hard is for people to put it into practice.”

Qiu Changchun, founding patriarch of the Longmen school of Quanzhen Daoism, said: “The Dao encompasses Heaven and Earth, and Shen (spirit) governs the forms of all things. Forms are subject to birth and death; Shen, which does not vanish with birth and death, is one’s nature. All things with form eventually decay. Even Heaven and Earth are like illusory forms, and they too will perish when a great cycle of time—the yuanhui—comes to an end. Only a point of true nature, bright as sunlight, stands beyond the reach of kalpas. Within the human body, this is the sea of nature, or the original Shen.”

Shi Xinglin said: “All things, once born, must eventually die, but the original Shen can be reborn after death. When Shen is returned to Qi, the alchemical way will naturally be accomplished.”

Shangyangzi’s Commentary on the Cantong Qi says: “People of the world rely on their own cleverness, cling to what they already believe, and refuse to turn back. They think that if there is birth, there must be death—could there possibly be long life? Sages, immortals, and Buddhas are born that way, they suppose; how, then, could a teacher pass this on? And how could anyone cultivate it to completion? To think this way is to give the matter no careful thought and to resign oneself to the belief that one can only move toward death. One should consider where this body of mine actually came from. If it was born from the Yin-Yang Qi of one’s parents, then that Yin-Yang Qi must surely be capable of extending life, and must surely be capable of cultivating one into an immortal or a Buddha.”

The merit of the sages can benefit later generations far and wide. Yet they worry that those who study the Dao may lack sufficient blessings, virtue, and wisdom to bear the Great Dao. If they are blinded by various prejudices and attachments, they will have no chance to truly understand it.

Bai Ziqing says in the “Preface to the Pian of Pointing to the Mystery”: “Some say that I abandoned my wife and children to practice alone; others say that I went deep into the mountains in search of quiet. Still others say that I gave up meat and wine and ate only vegetables. These numerous practices of heterodox paths ultimately make it difficult to enter the Dao.

“Those who later study the way of the immortals need not retreat to the mountains and shun the world, leave their children and wives behind, give up meat and wine, fast for long periods, or eat only vegetarian food. Such practices are futile and take one farther from the Great Dao.”

Hanshanzi says: “Those who cultivate the Dao should give up cravings and desires, treasure their spirit, and remain at peace; then they will not be burdened. They should discipline their minds inwardly and keep their words and actions reasonable outwardly; then they will make few mistakes. Put others before yourself, be gentle and humble, and you will find a place to stand. Extend goodwill to others, and when you make a mistake, reflect on yourself first; then you can accumulate De. Your accomplishments need not be great: keep at them without slackening. Your mistakes need not be great either: correct them and do not repeat them. In this way, you can accumulate merit and De. When your inner cultivation is full, you may hope to refine Waidan (external alchemy), the elixir made through the use of substances and the furnace fire in Daoism, and may also hope to attain the Dao. If the Three Poisons—greed, anger, and delusion—have not yet been removed, then adorning your hat with beautiful ornaments is like putting a saddle blanket on a tiger or leopard: an ox remains an ox, and a sheep remains a sheep. What is there to value in outward adornment?”

The Perfected One Xie Ziran says: “If a person can remain calm and pure, burn incense indoors, and recite the Huangting Jing and the Daode Jing, whether once or seven times, this is better than making a donation. In reciting the scriptures, what matters is concentration, not the number of repetitions. Someone who is insincere may stop halfway through, causing an even greater loss; be sure to take care. When paying respect to images of the deities, four bows constitute a formal salutation, while three bows are a lighter one. In general, those who thoughtfully study and discuss the teachings can receive blessings; those who act carelessly invite faults.”

The Treatise on the Sea Wanderer says: “In cultivating the Dao, the human being is fundamental. If you turn back halfway, the loss is especially great, so you must be cautious—extremely cautious. When paying respects before sacred images of honored deities, four bows are the more solemn rite, and three bows the less solemn. In general, those who think carefully and study and teach the principles can attain good fortune; those who act carelessly and roughly invite mistakes.”

The Treatise on the Sea Wanderer also says: “The Dao takes ‘the rarefied and the subtle’—what is faint and difficult to see or hear—as its root, and serenity and stillness as its foundation. Renounce cravings and desires, and withdraw to the mountains; remove greed, and you can be at peace even while living in the world. Preserve and nourish the spirit, harmonize the breath, and eat cypress leaves and pine nuts. In this way, you can gradually reach a state of cool tranquility and draw somewhat closer to the true state of the Dao.

“Gold and silver are worldly things; they can sustain a person only for a time. Those blessed with good fortune receive them naturally, without seeking them; those without such fortune cannot obtain them, even if they strive for them. Dispersing wealth reveals De (Virtue/Power); hoarding wealth brings calamity upon oneself. You ordinary people do not understand the highest Dao. You know only how to crave possessions without end, delighting in heaps of gold and jade. Your luxury and arrogance know no bounds, and you boast to one another of fine furs and sturdy horses. Every day you crave delicious food, and at every moment you yearn for the pleasures of worldly splendor. The seven apertures—the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and other openings—are constantly drawn outward by external things, while the Three Fields, the upper, middle, and lower Dantian where Daoist practitioners cultivate Jing, Qi, and Shen, cannot be kept stable. What good can it do to take all manner of elixirs? How could you transcend the dusty world this way? If you follow what I have said, the Great Dao is not far away, and you will eventually reach its true state.”

Shangyangzi says: “To reveal the vital secret by which Heaven and Earth bring forth and nourish the myriad things is to damage the generative virtue of Qian and Kun, Heaven and Earth. To disclose the principle by which the sun and moon join is likewise to reveal the method by which Yin and Yang reverse their course. The Book of Changes says: ‘Share your virtue with Heaven and Earth, your brightness with the sun and moon, your order with the four seasons, and your fortunes and misfortunes with the spirits. Act before Heaven’s timing, and Heaven will not oppose you; act in accordance with Heaven’s timing, and you will follow the Way of Heaven. If even Heaven will not oppose you, how much less will people?’ Therefore, the one who presides over this Dao is a sage, and the one who cultivates it is a spiritlike person.”

Jiyizi says: “Only a spiritlike person can avoid exhausting the wondrous efficacy of the Dao. Ah, how subtle this principle is!”

The Perfected Sun said, “To attain long life and fly as an immortal, one need only cultivate the Golden Elixir. To preserve the body and delay aging, one need only hold fast to the True One, the fundamental Dao spoken of in Daoism. For this reason, the Way of the Immortals places particular importance on this. There are thousands upon thousands of methods for visualization and inward contemplation, and they are often so elaborate that they exhaust the mind. If you understand the method of holding fast to the One, you need not trouble yourself with them.”

The True Words of the Way of Chanting says, “When the sages of high antiquity wrote books and established their teachings, they never used the word ‘Elixir.’ This name, ‘Elixir,’ began in the Han dynasty. The Great Elixir, the state sought through Neidan cultivation, has neither form nor sound, yet its subtle efficacy is supreme.”

The Book of Wenchang’s Transformations records the Most High saying, “What is called ‘Great’ is to become one with the Dao; what is called ‘Elixir’ is to become one with the mind. Your five spiritual powers are now complete, and you are already very different from how you were in the past.”

Between Heaven and Earth there are only Yin and Yang, the two forces. Their fundamental source is called the Dao, the pivot of their transformations and movement is called the Yi, and their wondrous function is called the Elixir.

The Yin-Yang way of the Yi does not depart from Qian and Kun, Heaven and Earth; the Yin-Yang principle of the Elixir Way does not extend beyond nature and life. Qian and Kun correspond to nature and life. Yet only by probing deeply into the fundamental state of human beings before birth can one understand that Heaven and Earth begin from this, the human body takes its origin from this, and the Elixir Way establishes its foundation from this.

Zhu Yuanyu says, “To seek the highest Dao, one must cultivate De and establish a connection with Heaven. Once the numinous elixir is taken, one’s destiny is in one’s own hands and no longer governed by Heaven’s decree. This is indeed true, but it describes those who have already completed their cultivation and brought their work to perfection. At the beginning of practice, some things are easy and others difficult; they cannot all be treated alike. In general, it is easy when one undertakes the work of cultivating the Dao with sincerity, and difficult when one tries to gain an advantage through clever but deceitful means. Only wholehearted sincerity can reach Heaven. The slightest deceit cuts one off from Heaven’s heart and invites demonic obstacles. Thus, although the work of transforming one’s destiny depends on oneself, the opportunity to transcend the worldly and fulfill the Great Dao also depends, in practice, on Heaven’s will.

Accumulating hidden virtue—doing good without seeking reward—is indispensable. Since ancient times, sages and perfected beings have all helped others through whatever means were appropriate and treated all things with compassion. The good deeds taught in the Scripture on the Response of the Dao (Taishang Ganying Pian), a Daoist text that encourages goodness, should be put into practice constantly. And they should be done willingly, without ulterior motives. Never let even the slightest thought of tallying up merit, seeking advantage, praying for blessings, or demanding repayment enter in. A single such thought goes against one’s true nature and violates the Way of Heaven, bringing obstacles and possibly reducing one to the ranks of demonic beings, cutting off the opportunity to seek the Dao.

All demonic obstacles in the world are created by thoughts of the mind. Wholeheartedly accumulating De is naturally enough to connect with Heaven. The key to cultivating the Dao lies with oneself; it is not determined entirely by Heaven’s will. Therefore, the art of transforming one’s destiny concerns not only those who have completed their cultivation; it begins as soon as one sets out on the path. Anyone who resolves to undertake the Great Dao should reflect on this again and again.”

Ziye says, “The Great Dao is transmitted only once in ten thousand kalpas; it is no ordinary matter. The higher the Dao, the stronger the demonic obstacles. Without the support of hidden virtue, one may encounter setbacks and lose the resolve to cultivate the Dao.”

The Daoist Recluse said: “If one cultivates the Dao and seeks long life without also quietly accumulating the hidden merit of good deeds, one has no foundation for receiving Heaven’s blessings and favor. Even if one hears of the Great Dao, one’s cultivation will be difficult to bring to fruition. To accumulate hidden merit, however, is to nurture the roots of goodness silently within oneself. One must completely abandon the desire for fame and transcend life and death to become an immortal; only then will spirits and ghosts hold one in reverence. When ordinary people treat me with brute force and unreasonable conduct, I see it only as an opportunity to accumulate hidden merit and quietly cultivate my inner character. To take the karmic burdens of all beings upon oneself and feel compassion for them—this is what it means to truly understand compassion. If all one says is, ‘I reflect on myself, treat others politely, and do not hold grudges,’ how can that embody the virtue of Heaven and Earth, which shelters and sustains all things? Alas, such a person is still far from becoming an immortal!”

The True Words on Singing the Dao says: “Those who study the Dao should regard relieving the world’s suffering and guiding people to salvation as their own duty. They should not seek long life and immortality for themselves alone. They should sincerely regard all sentient beings in the Three Paths and Eight Difficulties, and the Six Realms and Four Births, as members of one family. When they see beings suffer, it should be as though they themselves were suffering; when they see beings confused and lost, it should be as though they themselves had fallen into hardship. Only with such a compassionate heart and earnest resolve will the many sages naturally appear during one’s cultivation and the various gods attend one, fearing only that one’s practice of the Dao may not succeed.”

“Three Paths and Eight Difficulties” and “Six Realms and Four Births” are broad categories used in Buddhist and Daoist scriptures to describe the circumstances and kinds of life among sentient beings; here they refer generally to all beings who suffer.

The immortals seek people with the will to cultivate the Dao more eagerly than ordinary people seek the immortal Way. The sages of the upper realms—high-ranking Daoist deities and those who have attained the Dao—cherish disciples who cultivate with sincere dedication as they would pearls and precious jade. Pearls have a price; a truly fine disciple is priceless.

When a disciple first begins cultivation and sets their resolve, their name and native place are entered in the registers of the Celestial Treasury. From then on, sages often descend to observe their merits and faults. If their resolve is sincere and steadfast, the sages rejoice and protect them in unseen ways, like a loving mother caring for an infant.

We disciples who cultivate the Dao should summon great courage and make far-reaching vows. We should aspire to accomplish deeds that uphold Heaven and Earth, become heroes capable of turning the world around, vigorously revitalize the mysterious tradition of Daoism, and open up many centers for teaching and transmitting the Dao.

The patriarch Ma Danyang said, “Hurry to cultivate the inner elixir, care for body and mind, and accumulate hidden virtue to bring blessings to the people. If you do not take this opportunity in this life to deliver yourself from the cycle, in what lifetime will you do so?”

Shangyangzi said, “The realm of the Dao is boundless. Cultivating the Dao is like stealing the secrets of Heaven and Earth and grasping the workings of creation. To undertake this kind of cultivation, one must first accumulate virtue and cultivate blessings; only then is one fit for the task. The Wuzhen Pian says, ‘If you do not take this opportunity in this life to deliver yourself from the cycle, in what lifetime will you do so?’”

Shangyangzi says, “The realm of the Dao is boundless. It can reach into the hidden mysteries of Heaven and Earth and grasp the workings of creation and transformation. A practitioner should first accumulate De and cultivate blessings, so they will be able to undertake this kind of cultivation. The Wuzhen Pian says: ‘There are easier and harder ways to cultivate the Great Medicine, and we know that success depends both on oneself and on Heaven’s aid. If one does not accumulate good deeds and cultivate Yin De through goodness done in secret, all kinds of demonic obstacles will often come to hinder one.’

“What is Yin De? Giving alms without seeking anything in return is Yin De. Doing good without letting others know is Yin De. Not driving others into peril is Yin De. Secretly helping people and making things easier for them is also Yin De. If a practitioner’s Yin De is not yet sufficient, they are easily troubled by external demonic obstacles. But if they turn inward to examine themselves and awaken a great capacity for patience and a resolve to advance diligently, those obstacles can become opportunities to accumulate De. A Jing says: ‘When others bring calamity, I respond with blessings and goodness; when others bring resentment, I respond with De.’ These are signs of deep Yin De and the power to dispel demonic obstacles.

“People often speak of accumulating eight hundred meritorious deeds and completing three thousand acts of De, as though this would take many lifetimes. In fact, all eight hundred meritorious deeds and three thousand acts of De are created by the mind. If, in a single thought, one can change the workings of the mind and let go of attachment completely, leaving the heart-mind empty, clear, and unimpeded, then everything can naturally be resolved at once. The three thousand acts of De and eight hundred meritorious deeds are fulfilled in the present moment, and the mind’s realm becomes vast and lofty as the Great Void.”

The Changdao Zhenyan says: “If a person has the talent and resolve of a hero, learns the Way of the sages, and cultivates a noble and upright Qi through the practice of careful self-scrutiny—even when alone—then, upon ascending to Heaven, they will surely hold high office, deliver the souls of the dead from the netherworld, and bring blessings to their descendants. Are such merit and achievement not great? I have seen worldly people with few good deeds or virtues that set them above others, yet they presume to practice the arts of Kan and Li, Water and Fire—the Neidan methods centered on Yin-Yang and the interplay of Water and Fire. If they have not yet shed worldly desires, how can they form the embryo immortal, a metaphor for the perfected immortal body attained through Neidan cultivation? Their thoughts are fixed on food and clothing, yet they dream of entering a realm of stillness and emptiness. Would this not make the countless perfected beings in the Great Luo Heaven laugh themselves over?”

Before Heaven and Earth took shape, the breath that filled the cosmos had no sign by which it could be recognized. It could not be described in words or given a name. It was vast and still, without fixed direction or form; this is called “true emptiness.” Yet true emptiness is not devoid of everything: it contains a subtle life-giving potential, called “wondrous presence.”

Because presence is originally still and empty, the beginning before the myriad things arose is provisionally called “the beginning of Heaven and Earth.” Because emptiness can also appear as the myriad things, its emergence at the origin of things is provisionally called “the mother of the myriad things.” When presence returns to emptiness, this is “the Supreme Ultimate is originally the Non-Ultimate”; when the Non-Ultimate appears as presence, this is “the Non-Ultimate and then the Supreme Ultimate.”

Before a person is born of their parents, their innate nature is whole and all-pervading, empty, clear, and unobstructed. It has suffered no contamination, and need not be acquired through cultivation or realization. It exists within the void, yet is not nothingness; it is the void’s sovereign. Taken as a whole, this is the Supreme Ultimate: “one Supreme Ultimate pervades the whole.”

Later, a point of numinous, clear Qi (vital energy) comes from the Great Void. Suddenly stirred into resonance, it attaches to a person and enters the spirit chamber at the center of the body, becoming the master of that person’s whole being. Thus each person has their own Supreme Ultimate: “each possesses a Supreme Ultimate.”

Zhu Yuanyu says: The mountains, rivers, earth, and stones between Heaven and Earth are blocked and do not connect; only the grotto heavens and hollow valleys are open and connected everywhere. The human body is the same: the muscles and joints are mostly obstructed, while only the mysterious apertures—the deep, hidden openings within the body—and the empty valleys—the hollow, freely connected spaces—link up with one another, like the grotto heavens in the workings of Heaven and Earth. Original Qi flows back and forth without cease or obstruction precisely within these empty valleys.

Once one understands that “emptiness” does not prevent the myriad things from appearing, and that “being” does not prevent them from being empty at their root, then, upon reaching this stage in cultivation, the six faculties—eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—the external objects they encounter, and the perceptions and thoughts that arise from those encounters will all dissolve. The earth, mountains, and rivers of the world, too, are like illusions.

Once one knows that the body is both empty and present, one comes to understand further: if one does not truly possess even one’s own body, how much less can one possess things outside it, such as one’s family, fields, wife, and children? Ordinary people often cling to their fields and to their wives and children, refusing to let go even with their final breath. How could they know that the very things they cherish most and find hardest to relinquish may be where a Daoist attains complete liberation?

In The Seven Precepts for Caution and Vigilance, Shangyangzi says that the Wuzhen Pian teaches: “Gather the elixir according to the right timing, and distinguish ascent from descent. When advancing the fire, be especially cautious and prevent the firing process from becoming too intense.” This is one of the most crucial matters in the early stages of cultivation.

First, if Yin-Yang is out of balance or the timing is wrong when gathering the elixir, then even if the external firing process has begun, the inner breath will not respond. The effort will be wasted.

Second, if the firing process is mishandled, the proportions of Water and Fire are wrong, the movement of Qi becomes confused, and the elixir gathered is impure, then all the effort will bring no benefit and may instead cause harm.

Third, after obtaining the “millet pearl”—a metaphor for the subtle elixir formed through Neidan—and placing it in the cauldron, one must nurture it carefully and guard the spirit. If it is not cared for properly, the elixir may disperse because the firing process has gone out of control.

Fourth, some practitioners endure hardship and danger and remain filled with fear. After the elixir has entered the cauldron, they should work to set aside their cares and quiet the spirit. If old worries still disturb the mind, they must cleanse away distracting thoughts and purify their intentions. This is called “bathing,” a stage in cultivation involving regulated breathing, quieting the mind, and clearing away distractions. If they remain attached and unwilling to let go, Lead and Mercury may scatter. In Neidan, “Lead and Mercury” are symbolic terms for such elements of cultivation as Yin-Yang and the essential energies.

Fifth, when the embryo has formed after ten months and the time comes to leave the womb and change the cauldron, one must guard the “Yang spirit,” the pure Yang spirit spoken of in Neidan cultivation. If it is allowed to leave too freely, it may lose its way, depart from its home, and be unable to return.

Sixth, after the elixir is formed, one must still distinguish the genuine from the false. If cultivation is not yet complete but one suddenly sees all kinds of uncanny sights, or even feels able to perceive matters of life and death, these may be demonic obstacles rather than genuine attainments. One must not conclude on this basis that one has attained the Dao and become a sage. Such delusions may lead a person away from the true path. At this time, one must uphold clear wisdom and preserve one’s original purity.

All seven precepts concern matters that require particular vigilance in cultivation. A single lapse in caution may not only prevent any attainment but also cause the fruits of cultivation to be lost. The Patriarch Zhengyang says: “Having realized Wuwei and settled the spirit, one should continue to nurture it and preserve one’s true nature. During the course of a year, one must also undergo bathing to guard against danger; keep watch with care, lest you sink into decline.”

The Dingguan Jing says that those who attain the Dao experience seven signs. First, their minds settle easily, and they can recognize and free themselves from the troubles stirred up by worldly desires. Second, long-standing illnesses generally recede, leaving the body and mind light and at ease. Third, they make up for inborn deficiencies and restore youth and the original basis of life. Fourth, their lifespans extend to several thousand years; they are then called “Immortals.” Fifth, they refine the body into Qi, becoming “True Persons.” Sixth, they refine Qi into Shen, becoming “Spirit Persons.” Seventh, they refine Shen until it accords with the Dao, becoming “Perfected Persons.” A person’s powers of discernment gradually grow stronger as cultivation advances. Only upon reaching the highest Dao and completing cultivation is wisdom fully perfected.

The Qianbian on Cultivating Perfection says that cultivating this Dao is difficult to accomplish without the resolve and outstanding character of a great man, and difficult to practice without exceptional intelligence. Even with these qualities, one must also have ancestors who accumulated deep merit, substantial personal cultivation and merit, and many favorable conditions. Only then can one complete this great undertaking step by step, without obstruction.

If one’s ancestors did not accumulate merit and one’s own foundation in the Dao is shallow, then even pressing forward with courage may not suffice: one’s lifespan may end before the undertaking is complete, or demonic obstacles may arise just as cultivation begins to bear fruit. Many people have methods of cultivation but lack the resources to pursue them; they have the aspiration for the Dao but lack the strength, and in the end die still holding to the Dao. Even if they fail to attain it, the course of their lives and deaths differs greatly from that of ordinary people. Some die halfway through their cultivation; others die before beginning. Those in the first group are certain to be born naturally intelligent in their next life, while those in the second are also certain to aspire to the Dao in their next life.

Those who possess a past-life foundation in the Dao need only a little guidance to awaken. Those without such a foundation will not heed even persistent persuasion. A person with the aspiration may seek the Dao throughout life yet never encounter a true teacher. After death and rebirth, upon returning to the world, they will still know that cultivating the Dao is a great undertaking and will do everything they can to seek a teacher and inquire into the Dao. Without a past-life foundation, even someone living alone in poverty and enduring every hardship will accept a life of deprivation and die in it, never cherishing the path of cultivation.

Many people in the world go to great lengths to seek out teachers and inquire into the Dao. Without deep roots from past lives, even if they find themselves alone and poor and endure hardship after hardship, they will only resign themselves to their plight, perhaps for the rest of their lives. They will never truly cherish the Dao.

People refuse to apply themselves to understanding how things work and treat their own lives lightly. Before fulfilling their responsibilities as human beings, they already want to seek immortality and study the Dao. They will not make the effort themselves, yet expect others to hand them a treasure. At the slightest setback or hardship, they retreat and give up, abandoning their efforts halfway, then blame their failure on having no affinity for the Dao. How could they enter the gate of the sages? Small wonder that teachers who do not understand the right path lead them astray, leaving them to wander among ghosts, demons, and delusions for the rest of their lives. Consider any craft in the world: it takes focused, sustained study to master. How much more foolish, then, to think that a matter concerning life and death can be understood easily and attained through superficial study!

The Collection on Transmitting the Dao says: Everyone in the world must eventually die, but those who cherish the Dao hope to transcend death and attain long life. Everyone lives in the human world, but those who cherish the Dao hope to become immortals and roam beyond the ordinary world. Everyone dwells on the earth, but those who cherish the Dao hope to rise above the common realm and enter the grotto heavens—the blessed caverns where immortals are said to dwell. They are therefore willing to endure toil and remain content in poverty. Their minds and spirits are devoted to a realm of quiet, simplicity, freedom, and ease, while their bodies dwell in seclusion among mountain springs and rocky crags, amid drifting clouds and rosy mists.

People in the world complain that it is too late to set out before the neighboring family’s rooster has crowed. Yet when the street’s watch drums sound from every direction, they complain that it is too early to go home. How could greed and obsession ever pause, even for a moment? Deluded thoughts are always afraid that what they have gained is not enough. Amid the bright spring days and fragrant flowers, enjoying the view from a waterside pavilion, or wandering in high spirits beneath a fresh breeze, chatting at leisure on a moonlit night, or drinking together on a snowy day, people indulge themselves and use up their limited time. Wealth and splendor merely adorn life’s fleeting dream; sorrow, distress, gratitude, and resentment only sow karmic causes for future lives. Before the songs have faded, suffering has already arrived; just as fame and fortune reach their height, youthful beauty has vanished. Even if people turn toward the Dao at that point, they are often already burdened with illness. When a boat springs a leak before reaching shore, who would not think to call for help? If a house leaks, once it has been repaired, would anyone be willing to abandon further repairs?

Time allows no delay, and the years pass swiftly. Those who covet money and possessions always imagine they can hold on to them forever; those who cherish their children and grandchildren hope only that the family will remain together for a long time. Only when gravely ill do they stop chasing after things; only when their end is near do they finally let go. Even if they turn toward the Dao then, they are helpless against the frailty of old age. Spring snow and autumn flowers are scenes that vanish in an instant; neither the setting sun nor the dawn moon shines for long.

Those who practice the Daoist arts rarely have the good fortune to begin in youth. Practice in youth, when one’s foundation is whole and firm, and results come readily: in about a thousand days, one can attain Great Accomplishment. The next best time is middle age. Those who practice in middle age must first make up for what has been depleted, then begin advancing in earnest. At first, they may return from old age to youth; afterward, they can transcend the ordinary and attain sagehood. If they failed to awaken in youth and did not reflect in middle age, some may turn their attention to quiet cultivation after a calamity, while others may resolve to seek the subtle and elusive realm known in Daoism as Xiyi. Those who begin practicing in old age must first find a way to preserve and protect the body, then replenish what has been lost. They can begin with methods that yield Lesser Accomplishment, building their practice until they reach Medium Accomplishment. From there, they must continue accumulating practice until they return from old age to youth and refine the body so it can endure in the world. Only then may they attain Great Accomplishment.

Those who cultivate in accordance with the Dao first gradually master the methods of minor attainment. By continuing to accumulate effort, they reach intermediate attainment. Even then, they must keep building their practice until they can return to the vitality of youth, refine and nourish the body, and remain in the world for a long time. Only after this can they hope to attain great attainment.

At the outset, those who follow the Dao must establish firm faith: neither affection and love, fame and profit, nor any worldly distraction may shake their lofty aspirations. Next, they must resolve to persevere in cultivation: even a life of hardship and solitude, or an austere and quiet setting, must not alter their original resolve. If the aim of cultivation is great attainment, one must not be satisfied with intermediate attainment, much less stop at minor attainment.

Ordinary people do not understand the Great Dao and can scarcely grasp its hidden workings. They often favor deviant teachings and strange doctrines, and eagerly practice lesser methods. As a result, they waste the years without seeing any effects. By old age, their bodies are frail and sickly, and in the end they still grow old and die. This leads later seekers of the Dao to think that long life is merely a delusion and transcendence mere empty words. Even when they hear of these things and believe them, they often lack the resolve to persevere in cultivation. At the first encounter with external circumstances, their minds are stirred; drawn by outside things, they lose their resolve. Thus they never overcome the “ten demons and nine trials” spoken of along the path of cultivation—the many obstacles and tests encountered in practice.

The “Nine Difficulties” are nine kinds of obstacles commonly encountered in the course of cultivation.

First, until the elixir—the attainment sought through Neidan (internal alchemy)—has been refined, the body still fears cold and heat and needs clothing in every season. Until true Qi (vital energy) has arisen, one still feels hunger and thirst and must eat three meals a day. Cultivators are often constrained by the necessities of food and clothing. This is the first difficulty.

Second, some people come into this life to repay karmic debts formed through past ties and causes, whether in a previous life or earlier times. They also cannot bear to leave their parents and elders, and find it hard to gain any quiet time; they can cultivate only in the spare moments amid their busy lives. The demands of elders are the second difficulty.

Third, one’s love is directed toward spouse and children, while one’s concern rests on one’s parents. Gratitude and affection become fetters and bonds, growing stronger day by day. The worries and turmoil of family life never cease. Even when one wishes for inner quiet, it is hard to withstand these troubles. The entanglements of family affection and love are the third difficulty.

Fourth, even if one is richer than a state and holds the rank of a high minister, deluded thoughts may not stop. One keeps craving wealth, always fearing that it is not enough. Ties to reputation and profit bind body and mind. This is the fourth difficulty.

Fifth, those unwilling to cultivate in their youth may fall ill as their strength declines; remaining stubbornly deluded may also bring disaster. They suffer in this life and leave a warning for those who come after. Disasters and unexpected misfortunes are the fifth difficulty.

Sixth, some regard the great matter of life and death as urgent and rush to find a teacher, but fail to distinguish the genuine from the false. Some take a glib speaker as their teacher; others are drawn to someone with an ancient appearance and an extraordinary bearing. At first they think they have met an immortal, but in time discover that the person is merely seeking personal gain. Being misled and controlled by a blind and ignorant teacher is the sixth difficulty.

Seventh, there are also blind and ignorant teachers and arrogant friends who casually direct people toward deviant paths and teach them to chase after minor details, leaving them unable to accord with the Great Dao. The various minor methods and heterodox teachings pass secret techniques among themselves, yet they are no match for the bright, universal light that spreads when the sun and moon rise, visible to all with eyes. Nor can they match the thunder’s mighty roar, heard by all with ears. How could teachings as faint as sparks and as narrow as a frog’s view from the bottom of a well truly communicate with one another? Disputes over cultivation and disagreement about methods are the seventh difficulty.

Eighth, some make a resolve in the morning and change it by evening; they sit down intending to do something, then forget it as soon as they stand up. They are delighted by a passing impulse but grow tired when it must be sustained; diligent at first, they become slack in the end. Weakness of resolve is the eighth difficulty.

Ninth, in youth, people cannot let go of thoughts of fame and profit; in old age, they are still preoccupied with their children and grandchildren. Life is limited. Do not put off cultivation until next year because this year has passed; the affairs of the world are endless, so do not put things off until tomorrow because today has passed. We cannot even be sure that we will still be here tomorrow—how, then, could we regain our youth in old age? Wasting time is the ninth difficulty.

The “Ten Demons” fall into three categories: visions that arise in the external world, visions that appear in dreams, and visions that emerge in the mind during inner contemplation and quiet practice. Practitioners may see flowers filling their field of vision, hear graceful music, taste something sweet, smell unusual fragrances, or feel refreshed and elated. When such visions arise, do not take them to be real. These are called the “Demon of the Six Thieves,” referring to the way the senses and desires interfere with cultivation.

You may also see jade towers and pavilions, splendid halls, beaded curtains and embroidered canopies, or rooms filled with treasures. If these visions appear, do not become attached to them. This is called the “Demon of Wealth.” You may see golden saddles and fine horses, an imposing procession, or yourself granted a noble title and bringing honor to your family. Do not become attached to these visions either. This is called the “Demon of Rank.”

You may also see wisps of smoke drifting, a warm sun lingering in the sky, violent winds and torrential rain, or thunder and lightning. You may hear music or feel grief and sorrow. Do not become attached to these changes. They are called the “Demon of the Six Emotions,” referring to the disturbances caused by feelings such as joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure.

If you see friends or relatives in danger, your family struck by disaster, your children ill, your parents dead, your siblings separated, or your spouse leaving you, do not take these visions to be real. This is called the “Demon of Attachment.” If you see yourself falling into fire, plunging from a high cliff, being attacked by poisonous insects or harmed by poison, encountering evildoers, or even losing your life after breaking the law, this is called the “Demon of Calamity.”

If you see divine beings such as the Ten Grounds in the sunlit sky, the Three Pure Ones and the Jade Emperor, the Four Spirits and Six Luminaries, or the gods of the Five Sacred Mountains and Eight Kings, appearing with a grand retinue and flying to and fro, do not conclude that you have encountered sages. This is called the “Demon of Sages and Worthies.” If you see a great army assembled, swords and blades gleaming like frost, weapons and bows at the ready, and enemies rushing forward to attack, do not be frightened or become attached to the vision. This is called the “Demon of Weapons.”

If you see rows of celestial maidens and jade women dancing to music and bringing splendid gifts, do not become attached to them. This is called the “Demon of Female Music.” If you see beautiful women in heavy makeup and elegant dress, feasting at night and using their charms to draw you close, do not be captivated. This is called the “Demon of Female Beauty.”

When practitioners of the Dao encounter such visions in the waking world, they should neither take them to be real nor become attached to them; then their resolve will not falter. If they encounter them in dreams, they should likewise neither accept nor cling to them; then their spirit will not be confused. If similar visions arise during inner contemplation, they must not follow them or mistake their allure for something intimate and familiar. The scripture’s phrase “kindle the true Samadhi fire to burn the body” means using focused, clear concentration to dispel these disturbances; it does not mean literally burning the body. Once the power of concentration is aroused, the multitude of demons will naturally vanish.

The signs said to confirm progress in cultivation generally appear in the following order.

At first, licentious thoughts and behavior cease, while one also practices external virtuous deeds. During the “gathering of the medicine” (the stage in Neidan cultivation when Jing and Qi are gathered and drawn in), Golden Essence (a cultivation term for Jing and Qi) becomes abundant, and the mind naturally grows calm and clear, dispelling yin demons (entities regarded as yin-aligned malign spirits). Next, the Qi of the Heart Channel rises upward, and sweet saliva forms in the mouth. Yin and Yang Qi clash, and sounds like wind and thunder are often heard in the abdomen. The hun and po souls become unsettled, and in dreams one often wakes in fright, with a racing heart. Then minor ailments sometimes arise in the six viscera and the limbs, but heal on their own without treatment. At night the Dantian naturally grows warm, and the face becomes clear and refined. Even in a dark room, the eyes seem to shine with spiritual light.

In dreams, one feels brave and strong, beyond the harm of external things and the deceit of others. Sometimes one dreams of returning while carrying an infant. After this, the Golden Gate and Jade Lock (the cultivation gateways that secure and contain Jing and Qi) close firmly, so that nothing leaks away through nocturnal emissions or the like. Then a sound like thunder seems to ring within the body; the joints open and connect, and sweat breaks out in shock. Later, Jade Liquid (a cultivation term for saliva) is held in the mouth, rinsed, and refined until it thickens like cream. The numinous liquid congeals into a paste, one gradually loses the taste for fishy and gamey foods, and this substance nourishes the body.

Afterward, the sitting bones seem to grow lighter, and the body transforms into a “Spirit Chamber” (a state of cultivation that bears the inner Shen and Qi). One’s stride can match a galloping horse, and one moves as if flying. Even while facing the things of the world, one can remain focused and steadfast; cravings and desires fall away. True Qi can act upon others and is said to heal illness. Inner awareness becomes clear and bright, no longer clouded. The pupils grow black and glossy as lacquer; wrinkles smooth out, and graying hair turns black again. The young, meanwhile, can retain a youthful face for a long time.

As True Qi gradually becomes abundant, one often feels full and eats little; one may drink much wine without becoming drunk. The body grows lustrous, and the spirit takes on a refined beauty. The sacred Elixir develops a flavor, and the numinous liquid gives off a fragrance. Strange scents often arise from the mouth and nose, sometimes perceptible to others. The eyes can make out tiny objects a hundred paces away. Old scars and lingering blemishes disappear on their own, and tears, mucus, saliva, and sweat cease to flow.

Once the Embryo is complete and Qi is full (a Neidan term for perfected embryonic breathing and abundant Qi), food is no longer needed. The mind becomes lofty and in accord with the Great Void, while worldly attachments and affections naturally fall away. Below, the nine worms are expelled; above, the Three Corpses are destroyed (Daoist beings said to dwell within the human body and hinder cultivation). The hun and po no longer wander, and so there are no dreams. One’s spirit remains clear and refreshed both day and night. Yang Essence condenses into a body, and the Spirit Palace becomes firm, impervious to cold and heat. Life and death can no longer hold the cultivator in their power. Through sitting in oblivion (sitting quietly while forgetting the body and discursive thoughts) and inner contemplation, one can journey through the immortal land of Huaxu. There, female musicians and towers create a splendid, beautiful scene, seemingly unlike anything in the human world.

When one’s virtuous deeds are complete, one receives a recompense through hidden virtue and is secretly invested with the true registers of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing, the three highest deities revered in Daoism). The cultivator can foresee changes in Yin and Yang and events among people, sensing impending calamities before they occur. Later, wearied by the turmoil of the dusty world, one withdraws from social life, keeps oneself pure, and lives in quiet seclusion. The Embryonic Immortal (the immortal embryo spoken of in Neidan cultivation) can then appear. This is what is meant by “a body outside the body”: attaining a sacred state. With True Qi made purely Yang, breathing in and out can refine External Mercury (a Waidan term that here refers to external substances or Jing and Qi).

The Embryonic Immortal often longs to ascend. Auspicious light appears in the sleeping chamber, and music is sometimes heard while sitting in meditation. Before ordinary people—even the wealthy and honored—one senses a rank odor about them, for they remain mortal in bone and flesh. The cultivator can also change appearance, taking on an immortal’s bearing and radiance, with bones that appear golden. Wherever one walks or pauses, deities often come to pay their respects and obey one’s commands, as if moving at a thought.

While sitting in meditation and turning awareness outward, one sees purple clouds filling the eyes. The world beyond the head and neck disappears from view, and golden light envelops the whole body. Then the body suddenly transforms into a fire dragon soaring upward, or rises like a dark crane. This signifies that the spirit has left mortal bone and surpassed the ordinary realm: what is called “transcendence.” After transcendence, clouds of many colors encircle the cultivator, auspicious vapors abound, and wondrous flowers descend from heaven; dark cranes fly alongside, and a rich, strange fragrance fills the air. Jade Maidens descend to bestow heavenly books and purple decrees. Once the rites are complete, immortal robes, crowns, and other garments are all provided. A great retinue accompanies the cultivator on every side, welcoming and guiding them back to Penglai. First they go to the Purple Palace to pay their respects to the Perfected Lord Taiwei, where their native place and name are checked and their merits assessed. Afterward, they dwell on the Three Isles as Perfected Ones and Immortal Maidens.

The Baopuzi says, “In the past, I studied the Jiudan and Jinyin with Master Zheng, and by means of them returned to Penglai. First, I went to the Purple Palace, the residence of immortals, to pay my respects to the Perfect Lord of Taiwei. I confirmed my native place, birthplace, and name, and had my merit and level of cultivation examined. Then I settled on the three islands of the immortals and was known as a Perfected One and an immortal maiden.”

The Baopuzi also says, “In the past, I studied the Jiudan and the Scripture of the Golden and Silver Liquids with Master Zheng, and later obtained the five scrolls of the Central Scripture of Yellow and White. Master Zheng said that he and Master Zuo had once tested the Golden Elixir and medicines of immortality together in the mountains of Lujiang. Both experiments succeeded. But the process of refining required purification, observance of taboos, and great hardship; in this respect, the methods were no different.

“Master Zheng also said that practicing the art of Yellow and White—the technique of using substances to refine gold and silver—was like refining divine elixirs: it required more than a hundred days of purification. The oral instructions should always be passed on personally by a master. Cultivation must take place in a pure setting deep in the mountains, hidden from ordinary people. I asked, ‘Could what is produced by refining be counterfeit?’ Master Zheng replied, ‘Gold made through transformation is the essence of various substances, and is better than naturally occurring gold. The Scripture of the Immortals says that the essence of elixirs can produce gold; it also says that gold can be refined and used to save the world. The gold produced by refining is real: it is the same inside and out, and repeated hammering does not diminish it. This is the way of nature. How could it be called deception?’”

Lu Qianxu said, “The methods of elixir cultivation are divided into three origins, and each can bring one’s nature and life to completion and perfect one’s cultivation. The three origins are the Celestial Origin, the Terrestrial Origin, and the Human Origin.”

The Celestial Origin is called the “Spirit Elixir.” Its method is to place water above and fire below, refining them in a spirit chamber—the vessel or practice space used for alchemy. What was originally formless thereby takes on form and substance. After nine transformations, when the firing has been carried out for the proper duration and through the required stages, it forms “White Snow,” a symbolic name for the elixir. Further refinement through the Three Origins transforms it into a spirit talisman. Taking this elixir enables one to rise aloft with ease. This is a wondrous matter of substances changing and their effects becoming magically potent. The relevant methods are described in detail in Xuanyuan’s Dragon and Tiger and Jingyang’s Stone Casket.

The Earthly Origin is called the “Numinous Elixir.” It transforms metals and minerals into precious substances. The elixir used is made from tangible materials such as silver, lead, cinnabar, and mercury. It can transform substances in the world, but cannot make the human body light and nimble. After nine transformations, the most potent and wondrous substance is selected and cast into a spirit chamber, which is then used to receive the Way of the Celestial Origin. The Earthly Origin is thus like a boat and crossing vessel for those who cultivate the Way, and like a furnace and cauldron for those who study it. The ancient sages and perfected adepts regarded this as sacred work. Its method is very simple: obtain precelestial lead, subdue postcelestial mercury, and discern the substances’ tendency to rise or sink, as well as whether the firing has reached its proper maturity. Many teachers today who do not understand the true method know nothing of this, and so their repeated attempts end in failure. The Way of the Earthly Origin and the Way of the Human Origin are not two different things. Only those who understand Yin-Yang and deeply comprehend the workings of creation can discuss them.

The Human Origin is called the “Great Elixir.” In refining the Great Elixir, a tripod and furnace are set up outside, while the substances are refined within. “Taking Kan to fill Li”—a term referring to the harmonizing and replenishing of the body and mind through water and fire, Yin and Yang—and stealing the workings of creation to put them to work in reverse: this is its essential principle. All the great immortals and sages of antiquity cultivated through this method. In the study of cultivating nature and life, nothing is more direct or firmly grounded than the Human Origin.

The art of the Elixir is therefore divided into three origins. The Celestial Origin depends on Heaven and Earth and on spirits and deities; whether it can be attained is not something one can force. The Terrestrial Origin consists in practicing the methods properly and cultivating both merit and wisdom. Putting it into practice is as easy as taking something at hand. The Human Origin, by contrast, means mastering the transformations of the cosmos and bringing the myriad changes forth from within oneself. Its workings are beyond even spirits and deities to fathom, while the transformations of Yin and Yang cannot escape calculation. These are the distinct levels of the Three Origins.

Ji Yizi said: “Lead, silver, cinnabar, and mercury were all originally names used in furnace alchemy. When speaking of Yin and Yang, no separate terms are introduced; the names used in furnace alchemy are retained. Furnace alchemy and Yin-Yang are fundamentally one and the same: although they appear differently in practice, their underlying principles are alike. Thus, those who understand Neidan (internal alchemy) are invariably also versed in Waidan (external alchemy). Yin-Yang and furnace alchemy each have three origins.

“Among the three origins of Yin-Yang, the initial pass is the stage of refining essence into Qi and establishing the foundation; it belongs to the Terrestrial Origin. The middle pass is the stage of refining Qi into spirit, shedding the embryo and changing the cauldron; it belongs to the Human Origin. The upper pass is the stage of refining spirit and returning to emptiness, facing the wall and returning to the Origin; it belongs to the Celestial Origin. Here, ‘pass’ refers to a level or stage of cultivation. The initial pass corresponds to the Desire Realm and brings the attainment of a human immortal; the middle pass corresponds to the Form Realm and brings the attainment of a spirit immortal; the upper pass corresponds to the Formless Realm and brings the attainment of a celestial immortal.”

The furnace arts of alchemy are divided into three levels. The first is the “Earth Origin,” referring to methods for transmuting metals and refining yellow and white substances. The second is the “Human Origin,” referring to taking elixirs. The last is the “Heavenly Origin,” referring to the “transfer of the household” through which an entire family moves into the realm of immortals. The Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three) says, “The furnace arts do indeed have a basis.” Related material appears in works such as the Tongfu Tiequan, Shihan ji, Longhu jing, Jingu ge, Fuli Bizu Jinhua Mijue, Huainan Wang Hongbao Mishu, Huolian jing, Xu Zhenjun Sanyuan Mifan, Bai Ziqing Diyuan Zhenjue, Zhuo Huyun Shendan lun, Peng Zhenren Guanhua jing, and Shangyangzi Huolong jue. It is also recorded in the Yuzhuang lu, Chengzhi lu, Qiuri Zhongtian, Dongtian Midiǎn, Huangbai Zhizhi, Huangbai Poyu, Huangbai Jianxing, Jinhuo Zhizhi, Zhenkui Cangshu, Leizhen Danjing, Tiantai Zhichi, Huangbai Jing, and Zhuquan ji, among others.

The Earth Origin furnace arts focus on refining earth and sand. Once refined, these substances can support the Human Origin techniques of Yin-Yang. Metals produced through the Earth Origin are then used to cast a “spirit chamber,” a vessel for refining or storing elixirs. This chamber summons and gathers the heavenly hun-soul and earthly po-soul, and draws forth the true water and true fire of the sun and moon, causing them to congeal in the air. This is called the “Heavenly Origin spirit elixir.” According to legend, the Yellow Emperor rode a dragon up to heaven at Dinghu Lake; when the King of Huainan attained the Dao, his chickens and dogs ascended with him; and Xu Xun, the Perfected of Jingyang, moved his entire household to a new dwelling and ascended. All these feats were said to rely on this method.

After attaining the Dao, the Perfected Yin Changsheng wrote three poems and left them for later generations. The first says: “Only my ancestor, nature and life … Tang and Yu”—the legendary ancient sage rulers Yao and Shun. The original text continues with phrases such as “the Heavenly Origin spirit elixir,” but the meaning does not connect clearly; this is the only interpretation the surviving wording allows.

The first passage says: Since ancient times, among my predecessors there have been figures like Yao and Shun; by the Han dynasty, purple Daoist books were also in circulation. I alone am content to learn the Dao and live as an ordinary person. Honoring purity and filial devotion to one’s parents does not require holding the rank of a prince or lord. If one can cherish life and truly attain longevity, what more could one desire? I transcend the world and rise into the heights, riding a dragon and driving the clouds, borne aloft by the clear breeze. Even if the breeze seems to oppose me, fire cannot burn me, and walking on water cannot make me wet. I roam freely in the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate, the Daoist state regarded as the origin of Heaven and Earth), without worry or care; when I travel through immortal realms, I also look back with compassion on the living beings of this world.

Human life ebbs away like a river in full flow. In the blink of an eye, a person is gone, with only the earth for company. People rush about in pursuit of their aims, yet in the end they go toward death and refuse to pause even for a moment.

The second passage says: My sage master, a revered teacher who attained the Dao, understood the true meaning of the Great Dao and could rise, descend, and transform, living as a neighbor to Qiao and Song, legendary immortals. There were twelve of us in the same school. We sought the Dao through heat and cold, over the course of twenty years. Sadly, many among us grew lax and could not persevere to the end; neither their aspirations nor their actions were steadfast. It is painful to think that their fates, too, were determined by Heaven. Heaven does not bestow opportunities at random, and in the end the Great Dao belongs to those of virtue. They were buried underground when they died. When will they ever return?

Alas, people of later generations, study diligently. Do not let worldly customs and wealth hold you back. If you can cultivate the Dao of the spirits, you may ascend to the nine heavens, your life span matching the sun, moon, and stars. Why settle for living only a few thousand years?

The third passage says: From the age when I first bound my hair, while still young, I loved the Dao and De. I left home to follow my master and traveled in every direction. I withdrew from the Five Turbidities, the term used in Buddhist and Daoist contexts for the polluted world, and lived in seclusion. For more than thirty years I stayed near famous mountains. In the cold I neglected to dress properly; when hungry I neglected to eat. With my whole heart set on seeking the Dao, I dared neither to return home nor to stop my labor.

I served my sage master and did my utmost to please him. My face was caked with dust and my feet hardened with calluses, signs of my sincerity. At last I received the essentials of Daoist cultivation. My master’s kindness was so profound that it could not be measured. As a result, my wife and children gained longer lives and shared boundless blessings and longevity. After mastering the arts of refining yellow and white, Daoist techniques for making gold and silver and other substances, I obtained wealth worth a thousand billion. I could also command spirits and ghosts, with jade maidens attending at my side. Now I have transcended the world, all through the power of the divine elixir.

During the Tang dynasty, Xie Ziran paid homage to Sima Ziwei at Mount Chicheng and practiced according to his teachings. She mastered the arts of refining yellow and white, amassed wealth worth a thousand billion, commanded spirits and ghosts, and had jade maidens attend her. Her transcendence from the world was achieved through the power of the divine elixir.

Xie Ziran took Sima Ziwei, a Daoist adept, as her teacher and practiced according to his methods on Mount Chicheng. On the twelfth day of the first month in the eleventh year of the Zhenyuan era of the Tang dynasty, she ascended to Heaven in broad daylight. Li Jian, governor of Guozhou, reported the event and wrote her biography.

Han Yu’s poem says: In Nanchong County, Guozhou, there lived a poor scholar named Xie Ziran. As a child she was naïve and ignorant, and had only heard that immortals existed in the world. She risked her life to learn the arts of becoming an immortal, and later lived on Mount Jinquan. One day, she sat suspended in the air as clouds and mist rose around her. It seemed she could hear the music of the sheng and yu flutes drifting from the distant heavens. Before long, her body grew light and rose upward, floating like smoke through the clouds and mist. A local clerk reported the event, and the commandery governor was astonished and marveled. He set out with his carriage, horses, and officials, while the people hurried after him. But when they entered the house, they saw nothing there—only her shoes, clothes, and headwear, left behind like a cicada’s cast-off shell. In the past, we heard tales of immortals; now we can truly believe and tell of them. (Guozhou corresponds to the area around present-day Shunqing in Sichuan, with its seat in Nanchong. Mount Jinquan lies beyond the west gate of the prefectural city.)

Yingchanzi Li Daochun, a Daoist Neidan practitioner, said: The highest medicines are three: Jing, Qi, and Shen. In their essence they are originally one; in their use, they divide into two kinds.

What is their essence? It is the fundamental fact that the three primordial elements of the pre-Heavenly realm—Jing, Qi, and Shen—are originally one. What is their use? It is the distinct function of the inner medicine and the outer medicine.

The inner medicine comprises pre-Heavenly Jing, the Qi of emptiness, and the indestructible primordial Shen. The outer medicine comprises Jing produced through the union of man and woman, the Qi of breathing, and Shen arising from the activity of thought.

The number of Heaven is twenty-five, so one, three, five, seven, and nine are its odd, Yang numbers. The number of Earth is thirty, so two, four, six, eight, and ten are its even, Yin numbers. The numbers of Heaven and Earth together make fifty-five. The number of the Great Expansion is fifty; subtract five as the foundation of the Five Phases, and forty-nine are used in practice. Subtract one more to symbolize the motionless Taiji. From this we can see that things have both an essence and a function.

Volume Two: Method, resources, companions, and place.

Method (the practice method to be followed).

Shangyangzi said: “The Great Way of the Golden Elixir is the fundamental path to cultivating immortality. The ancients passed it on only once after long ages had gone by; it was never an ordinary matter. As for the secrets of Heaven’s mandate, although the sages and perfected immortals of antiquity wrote books and teachings, none of them set down the essential instructions in full. The crucial points and methods of cultivation are many, and their names differ, so they truly cannot be guessed at by relying on one’s own ideas.

If you guess that cultivation takes place inside the body, you may fall into the error of stubbornly sitting in emptiness or practicing dry, lifeless meditation—futile, like grinding a brick in hopes of making a mirror. If you guess that it takes place outside the body, you may turn to breath-holding or bedroom arts—using sexual intercourse as a means of cultivation—which goes directly against the warning of “adding firewood to put out a fire.” If you take it to mean deploying troops and generals, you will mistake it for the art of gathering and replenishing through sexual intercourse; the so-called “Three Peaks technique” has long been condemned as erroneous. If you take it to mean something that enters the mouth or is swallowed into the abdomen, you will mistake it for a practice of ingesting substances. Those who use medicines made from metals and stones have already suffered calamity as a result. To describe it as “bedchamber elixir”—a deviant art that makes a woman’s body the object of cultivation—is to invite suspicion of filth. To call it elixir-making in a furnace, meanwhile, is lamentable because of the money it wastes.

Indeed, even those as intelligent as Yan Hui and Min Ziqian could not realize the Dao on their own without guidance from a true master. Hence the saying: ‘Nature is realized by oneself; life depends on a master’s transmission.’ Here, ‘nature’ refers to the mind and one’s inborn nature, while ‘life’ refers to the cultivation of nature and life: the mind and one’s nature can be realized through one’s own insight, but cultivating nature and life requires a master’s instruction. Yet a true master is hard to find, and great wisdom is needed to recognize one. In the past, Lü Dongbin met and recognized his master in Chang’an, while Xinglinzi became a disciple under constrained circumstances; both were people of great wisdom. Otherwise, consider Han Yu’s encounter with Han Xiangzi at Languan, and Zhu Xi’s encounter with the Perfected Purple Clarity at Mount Wuyi. Did these two worthy men lack wisdom? They merely relied on their own cleverness and clung to their own views, refusing to be humble. So although they met their masters, it was as if they had never met them.”

Yuanduzizi said, “In ancient times, anyone who sought to learn had to have a teacher. A teacher’s role is to transmit principles, teach one’s studies, and answer questions. Every profession—scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants—even those involving minor skills and techniques, depends on teachers. How much more so in a great matter that transcends the ordinary, leads to sagehood, and concerns life and death? Thus the sages of antiquity devoted themselves wholeheartedly to serving their teachers, diligently seeking this Dao, and faithfully receiving and following their instruction. Once I have attained the Dao, those who became immortals before me are my ancestors; those who become immortals after me are my descendants. The original teacher who transmits this lineage of the Dao is my loving father. How could I fail to show filial devotion? Wu Zhenjun, in turn, honored Xu Zu as his teacher, while Guling Zan honored a disciple as his teacher. These are examples of valuing principle without concern for rank or outward appearances. To ask humbly for instruction from someone of lower status has no finer example; it is especially rare because what they value is the Dao.”

Yuanduzizi also said, “People in the world practice blindly, not understanding the true essentials, and so they struggle to grasp the highest principles. There are ten thousand volumes of alchemical writings; if one only buries oneself in reading them, it is like counting grains of sand in the sea—one will never attain genuine proof. If one has accumulated good affinities in the past and gets to meet a true teacher, who explains the subtle workings of the heavenly secrets one by one, the practitioner can suddenly see clearly. It is like a poor person receiving treasure, a sick person obtaining good medicine, a prisoner being pardoned, or someone at death’s door being given new life. This is worth more than ten thousand taels of gold. Gold will eventually be spent, but the wondrous method is inexhaustible.”

Long ago, the Tathagata—a Buddhist honorific for a Buddha—said, “If this matter were explained, the gods of the heavens and the people of the world would be astonished and perplexed.” Shangyangzi said, “People are astonished and perplexed because their understanding is shallow; we may set that aside for now. Why would the gods of the heavens also be astonished and perplexed? This shows that there must be something in it that inspires astonishment and doubt.”

Ge Hong, a Daoist scholar of the Eastern Jin, admired Daoist arts from a young age. He read widely and was no less intelligent than the ten sages of antiquity; his talent surpassed that of Yan Hui and Min Ziqian. Yet he still could not understand the Daoist methods on his own. Only after meeting the perfected person Zheng Siyuan did he receive the secret instructions. The principles understood by the sages and perfected persons of antiquity cannot be grasped through idle speculation, yet people today often make reckless guesses.

Shangyangzi said, “If you have no opportunity to travel about in search of a teacher and do not understand the mysteries of the Golden Elixir—the core of Neidan practice—you can make portraits of the three immortal perfected ones, the patriarchs Chunyang, Chongyang, and Danyang. Offer incense and flowers before them morning and evening, and worship them with single-minded devotion. Recite this Great Essentials of the Golden Elixir ten times, a hundred times, or even a thousand times. As the days and months pass, never abandon your original resolve, and work with ever greater diligence. In this way, you can move the immortal perfected ones to come down in person and teach you. The principles of cultivation will gradually become clear; your mind will grow lucid, empty, and still; and you will at last truly set foot on the path of practice. Why is this so? Because the higher realm has commanded the True Lord Danyang to oversee the registers of immortals, travel throughout the world, examine people’s deeds in cultivation, and record them on the Cinnabar Terrace—the place in the immortal realm where merit is recorded and immortal ranks are bestowed. The immortal realm also sends perfected persons and immortal maidens down to earth to serve as human teachers, and issues documents to the offices in charge of the registers, which are responsible for allocating the resources needed for cultivation. They help those who study the way of immortality realize the supreme wondrous Dao and ultimately become perfected persons.”

Shangyangzi said, “My teacher, Yuanduzi, repeatedly pointed out that the primordial Qi that precedes form comes from nothingness. To say that it ‘comes from nothingness’ does not mean that it descends from heaven or arises from the earth. It does not belong to the human body, nor is it any kind of essence, blood, grass, tree, metal, or stone. It is none of these. Without my teacher’s guidance, who could know this?”

Lüzu said, “One must distinguish the clarity or turbidity of the water’s source, and the separation between Metal and Wood. Without a teacher’s guidance, this is difficult to understand.”

Shangyangzi said, “Even when a sage teacher gives repeated instructions, one may still worry about misunderstanding them. How, then, could ordinary people grasp the matter on their own?”

Zhang Ziyang said, “Even if your intelligence surpasses that of Yan Hui and Min Ziqian, do not force yourself to guess when you have not met a true teacher.”

The Patriarch Xu said, “The elixir scriptures—the classics that teach the practice of alchemy and the cultivation of the Dao—must be transmitted orally by a master.”

Xiao Zixu said, “The hidden workings between the Former Heaven and the Latter Heaven are supremely profound. How could anyone with only a meager share of good fortune encounter them?”

Shangyangzi said, “The patriarchs Chunyang, Haichan, Chongyang, and others felt deep compassion for people sunk in worldly concerns. In their mercy, they emerged into the world to rescue people from calamity. They changed their appearances and wandered among humankind; when they met someone who could be taught, they guided that person across. Immortals can transmit the Way of the Golden Elixir to others, but they cannot guarantee that those people will succeed in completing the practice. They can, however, recognize who is certain to succeed, and so they guide only those who are sure to complete it.”

Shangyangzi said, “Before I had heard of this Way, I thought that if I ever had the chance to learn it, I would make it known to everyone in the world and keep nothing hidden. But after I truly heard it, I considered it carefully and observed people closely, and found that scarcely anyone was suited to receive this transmission. Patriarch Lü said, ‘Across the boundless cosmos, there are countless people. How many men truly deserve to be called men of stature?’ From the worldly point of view, surely a man of stature is simply a man. Here, ‘man of stature’ means someone with resolve who is capable of shouldering responsibility.”

Shangyangzi said, “I once met a perfected one, an immortal of profound attainment. After pledging myself to receive the transmission of the Great Dao, I resolved to bring this work to completion. Since my accumulated merit and opportunities were not yet sufficient, I gathered the essential teachings from various immortal scriptures and compiled them into The Essentials of the Golden Elixir. After completing the book, I spared no effort in traveling. Whenever I reached a famous mountain or a town in any region, I formed connections with people wherever I went, humbly and patiently instructing them and guiding them into this Way. Over forty years, many came seeking to learn, but I never met anyone with truly great resolve who was willing to devote themselves diligently to cultivation.”

Shangyangzi said, “I wrote the ten-volume Essentials of the Golden Elixir. After finishing it, I worried that without a master’s oral instruction and personal transmission, how could people possibly understand it on their own? So I carried the book with me as I traveled from place to place, setting aside my dignity to seek guidance. Whenever I found someone with even a little promise, I humbly encouraged, advised, and taught him, helping him continue to make progress.

Teaching this Way sometimes brings insults, and at first I could only endure them. Now and then one or two people would understand, only for hundreds or thousands to criticize me. But I wanted only to transmit the Dao and paid no heed to right and wrong. When I met ridicule, I accepted it gladly. When I met someone suited to become a practitioner, I did all I could to urge him forward. For those able to enter the gate, I guided them step by step up the stairs; those able to climb them, I guided into the inner chamber—that is, I taught them further methods of cultivation.

I devoted myself to this because I wanted the transmission of the Great Dao to continue without interruption. I also hoped to rescue worldly people from the pit of fire and help them understand that the Way of the Golden Elixir truly exists and is no falsehood.”

Master Shangyang said, “The Great Dao is inherently difficult to teach in words. Yet if it were never spoken, how could anyone hear of it? The saying that the Great Dao cannot be taught in words means that people of that time had limited understanding and were not ready to discuss it. Even if one forced an explanation upon them, would they believe it, accept it, and put it into practice? That is why it is said that the Great Dao should not be spoken of indiscriminately.

But if no words are used at all, how can there be oral instruction and mind-to-mind transmission? Some people today simply declare ‘wordlessness’ to be the Dao, unaware that its subtle teachings in fact involve many words. These words, however, should not be heard by a crowd. If the sages can point out the Great Dao with such clarity, why has it remained hidden and undisclosed from ancient times to the present, even described as unspeakable?

Those who seek to learn later on, before their wisdom has awakened, should first examine whether a prospective student is loyal, filial, upright, and whether they are good or evil, worthy or foolish. The Great Dao cannot be transmitted to those of poor character, or to those who do no good in their daily lives. Do not covet profit and reveal it carelessly or teach it lightly. If it is transmitted to someone unfit, both teacher and student will be condemned. How, then, could one expect the student to respect the teacher and attain the Great Dao?

The Huangting Jing (Scripture of the Yellow Court), a Daoist classic on health cultivation and practice, says: ‘The one who transmits the teaching is called the teacher; the recipient must swear an oath and form a covenant. Gifts of cloud-brocade, phoenix-patterned silk, and gold-threaded cords are exchanged in place of the old customs of cutting hair and injuring the body. Hand in hand, they climb a mountain and drink the elixir fluid together; only books written in gold and slips of jade are fit to bear the transmitted Dao. In transmitting it, one must choose the recipient with care and report the matter to the Three Officials—the Officials of Heaven, Earth, and Water. Do not let the Seven Ancestors suffer calamity in the underworld. The subtle teachings of the Most High can bring a person to the realm of the immortals; this true text speaks of the Dao of long life and deathlessness.’

Among all things between Heaven and Earth, this matter is the most important. Ziyang once transmitted the Dao three times to unfit recipients, and each time calamity befell him, as the immortal scriptures record. How could one fail to take this as a warning?”

Shangyangzi said, “Daoist methods are taught to three kinds of people: those of the upper, middle, and lower ranks. People of the upper rank are learned and virtuous. They speak little and delight in doing good, can let go of wealth and status, and regard self-cultivation and seeking the Dao as their foremost concerns. These are called upper-grade practitioners, and they are suited to receiving instruction in Daoist methods.

“People of the middle rank are plain and unadorned. When they hear of Daoist methods, they believe firmly; they can relinquish family attachments and romantic love, apply themselves to cultivation, and keep making progress. They are not swayed by worldly disputes and judgments. These are called middle-grade practitioners. They share the aspirations of those in the upper rank and are also suited to receiving instruction in Daoist methods.

“People of the lower rank may be simple and unsophisticated, but they are honest and trustworthy. They delight in doing good and keep away from wrongdoing; they are willing to set aside their own interests, listen to others, and act with courage. These are called lower-grade practitioners. Their aspirations deserve praise, and they too are suited to receiving instruction in Daoist methods.

“Thus, all who attain this Dao make vigorous and steadfast progress with wisdom, and all restrain evil conduct and promote good. The word ‘good’ is a ladder and a ferry by which people make their way through life. When ordinary people often hear good words, their Kidney Qi (vital energy) will not be depleted; when they often speak good words, their Heart Shen (spirit) will not be scattered; when they often smell good fragrances, their Lungs can settle the Po (corporeal soul); when they often witness good deeds, their Liver can nourish the Hun (ethereal soul); and when they often hold good thoughts, their Spleen can generate Qi (the Daoist term for vital energy). With the Yellow Center (the inner center that harmonizes and brings things into order), how could a great cultivator fail to practice goodness?

“Even after living to the age of one hundred and twenty, one can still refine the Returning Elixir, the elixir formed through internal alchemy. This is the Dao. How could ordinary people, even those of the middle rank, discuss such things? How could heterodox teachers and deluded people understand them? Unless a true immortal sage and master personally transmits these teachings, sealing them with an oath before Heaven, who could know them?”

Shi Xinglin said, “Ever since I received my master’s secret instructions, I have known that this body can be made immortal and that this Elixir can certainly be refined. Now the great work of cultivating immortality is underway, so I pass these words on to those who will seek immortality after me.”

The Baopuzi says that, for those who seek the Way of the immortals, the most important things are to cherish Jing and Qi and regulate the breath. Taking one essential elixir as well is enough; there is no need to take many. These methods of cultivation, however, vary in depth. Without guidance from an enlightened master, and without diligent, sustained practice, it is difficult to understand them fully.

The Baopuzi says that the key to cultivation is “returning Jing to nourish the brain”—gathering and transforming Jing and Qi to nourish the spirit of the brain. It is said that this method was transmitted by the Perfected Man Lü Tong and could not be written down in books. What figures such as Xuansu Zi, Duke Du Rongcheng, and Peng Zu recorded was probably only the more superficial material; they never set down the crucial secret. When transmitting the oral instructions, one must ascend the altar and swear an oath by drinking blood, thereby solemnizing the alliance. Unless someone is a suitable recipient, the teachings will not be passed on readily, even if that person offers fiefs, cities, and halls filled with gold and jade.

The Baopuzi says that people receive their spirit from Heaven and Earth, and their Qi and blood from their parents. But unless an enlightened master tells them the secrets of transcending the ordinary world and prolonging life, they have no way to escape death. It is like a spark struck from stone: before it has gone out, a person’s life has already declined. The master’s kindness, then, truly surpasses that of Heaven and Earth and is deeper than the affection of one’s parents. How could one fail to honor and seek out an enlightened master?

The Baopuzi laments that those who seek the Dao in later generations should make finding a teacher their foremost task, and place the careful choice of a teacher above all else.

The Baopuzi says that without obtaining the great method of the Golden Elixir, long life is impossible. Even if one can command ghosts and spirits, see events a thousand miles away, or foresee blessings and calamities before they occur, none of this helps extend one’s life. If, out of embarrassment at visiting a teacher or shame at seeking guidance from elders, one would rather endure one less day of discomfort, one is choosing to remain trapped for a long time in mediocrity and failure.

The Baopuzi says: “The instructions for receiving ‘True Unity’ (zhenyi, a Daoist cultivation method) are recorded clearly in writing. Master and disciple must sacrifice a white animal and offer its blood, then conduct the transmission on an auspicious day, believed to be a time of flourishing Qi. They must also use silver and white silk as tokens of trust, and have a golden covenant engraved, with each keeping a copy. If the method is carelessly disclosed or passed on indiscriminately, the spirits will not protect it.”

The Baopuzi says: “Although the method is recorded in writing, its essential points are kept secret. The master must teach them orally and explain the scripture line by line. Only after that may one practice.”

The Baopuzi says: “These methods are all passed from master to disciple, and the master teaches the methods of ingesting substances. They are not something one knows from birth.”

The Baopuzi says: “My great-granduncle, the immortal lord, once studied this method under Zuo Yuanfang. My teacher, Lord Zheng, was a disciple of the immortal lord and learned from him as well. But Lord Zheng’s family was poor, and he could not afford to buy the ingredients. I personally served the immortal lord for a long time, taking care of tasks such as sweeping and cleaning. Later, at Mount Maji, an altar was set up and an oath sworn. Only then did he transmit the method, along with the instructions that were not written in books.”

The Baopuzi says: “If you have never encountered this method and have not met a true master, you cannot know that such profound wonders exist in the world.”

The Baopuzi says: “This Daoist method is of the utmost importance and must be passed on to people of virtue and worth. If someone is not suitable, do not reveal it to him even if he offers a mountain of jade. The recipient must cast golden figurines and golden fish into a river flowing eastward as a pledge, and seal the promise with an oath sworn over blood. Without the innate potential to become an immortal, one cannot encounter this method.”

The Baopuzi says: “Eight liang of gold must be cast into a river flowing eastward, and an oath sworn over blood before the instructions are transmitted. If one ignores the established rules, steals the techniques and practices them alone, one will ultimately fail.”

The Baopuzi says: “Never tell people who indulge their desires and will soon die the method for refining the divine elixir, lest they mock the Great Dao and slander the perfected ones. If the method is passed on to someone unsuitable, the transmitter too will surely meet with misfortune.”

Shallow people know only to cherish life, but do not understand how to nurture it. They know only to fear death, but do not believe that there is a way to attain long life and avoid death.

Unless one accumulates good deeds and cultivates De (Virtue/Power) in secret, one cannot move the spirits. Without a sincere heart, it is difficult to form deep bonds with teachers and fellow practitioners. Without merit, one is not fit to speak of undergoing great trials. And to seek the essential methods of cultivating the Dao (the Way) before meeting a true teacher is difficult indeed.

People often say that a single good word is worth more than a thousand pieces of gold. If one tells another the secret of long life, how could its value be measured in a thousand pieces of gold?

Golden documents and jade slips—precious texts made of gold and jade—as well as the scriptures of the immortals and their most important teachings, are often not written in books. Instead, the oral instructions—the essential methods of cultivation—are transmitted only after the disciples ascend the altar, swear an oath, and seal it with their blood.

Long life itself is not difficult to attain; the difficulty lies in hearing of the Great Dao. Hearing of the Great Dao is not the greatest difficulty; the difficulty lies in putting it into practice. Even putting it into practice is not the greatest difficulty; the hardest thing is to persevere to the end. A skilled craftsperson can teach others rules and methods, but cannot ensure that they will become skillful. An enlightened teacher can transmit methods and books of cultivation, but cannot ensure that others will practice accordingly.

In the preface to Understanding Reality (Wuzhen pian), Zhang Ziyang says: “I had never met anyone who truly understood the Dao, and so found it hard to obtain the essential instructions for cultivation. I was restless in both sleep and waking, and my spirit grew weary. I traveled everywhere, seeking advice from people of wisdom and from ordinary people alike, yet no one understood the foundations of the Great Dao or could open my mind. Later, in the jiyou year of the Xining era (1069), I accompanied Academician Lu of the Longtu Academy to Chengdu. My resolve to seek the Dao had never wavered, and my original sincerity had only deepened. At last, I moved a perfected one, and received the instructions on the Golden Elixir, the medicines, and the firing times. These teachings are exceedingly concise, their essentials uncomplicated, and they accord with the immortal scriptures like matching tallies.”

In the Three Commentaries, Master Daoguang says: “It is a pity that people in the world, having received no guidance from a true teacher, grow suspicious, mock, and slander. This method of cultivation is exceedingly simple: ordinary people need only believe and practice it, and they too may hope to become immortals. This Dao truly can carry people beyond life and death. Sadly, people lack confidence and instead give rise to slander. I devoted myself to seeking this Dao for many years, and the Dao did not fail me. Heaven must have taken pity on me and led me to a sage teacher. With a single word of guidance from him, I came to know that the Dao was right before me. Then, consulting the Elixir scriptures, many doubts suddenly became clear. Examining myself carefully, I found that what arose within me was nothing but mercury.”

Here, “the Golden Elixir, the medicines, and the firing times” are terms from Neidan practice. They refer respectively to the elixir method sought through cultivation, the inner conditions used in refining and nurturing, and the guidance of the stages of practice. “Mercury” is also a Neidan term, often referring to a certain inner vital essence or transformation in cultivation; it does not mean ordinary liquid mercury.

Master Daoguang laments further: “It is a pity that people would rather believe false claims than accept true guidance. When error is right before them, who is willing to admit they are wrong? How truly lamentable!”

In the Three Commentaries, Master Shangyang says: “People of the highest capacity and keenest understanding, if they do not meet a teacher’s guidance, are bound to fall into empty talk about quiescent extinction, or lapse into arrogance and recklessness. Those of ordinary ability, stubbornly convinced that they need no teacher, will make guesses out of nothing and arrive at absurd views. Those of poor ability simply follow the crowd and do not believe that the Dao exists in the world.”

He then cites an ancient saying: “The human form depends on the Dao…”

The ancients said, “The body is preserved through the Dao; life is prolonged through the arts.” When I, Zhixu, first heard Master Zhao say this, I believed it without hesitation. Later, when I met the old immortal of Qingcheng, I came to understand the principles of Yin-Yang transformation and the generative workings of creation: follow the changes of Yin-Yang, and ordinary people are born; cultivate in the reverse direction, and one can become an immortal.

After receiving my master’s teachings, I remained vigilant day and night, holding even sleep and meals in reverence. I first passed the method to the marquis of Tian, Master Zhiyang. Later I traveled through Yelang and Qiongshui, Yuanzhi and Chenyang, the two E regions south of Jing, Changsha and Lufu, and the lands on both banks of the Yangtze, passing it on to more than a hundred people. What they received was only the essential teaching on “preserving the body through the Dao.” As for the secret of “prolonging life through the arts,” among a hundred people, scarcely one or two are fit to receive it.

Zhang Ziyang said, “Without meeting a true master who passes on the oral instructions, even if you speculate repeatedly and try a hundred methods, you will still be unable to put them into practice and see results, much less attain what you seek. Among a hundred people, scarcely one or two are fit to receive the secret for prolonging life.”

Zhang Ziyang also said, “Without meeting a true master who passes on the oral instructions, even if you speculate repeatedly and try a hundred methods, you will still be unable to put them into practice and bring the work to completion.”

In the future, if someone of keen natural ability and exceptional insight reads this passage, they will understand that Bōduān (Zhang Ziyang) grasped the most profound and subtle teachings of the Patriarch Bodhidharma and the Sixth Patriarch (Huineng, the Sixth Patriarch of Chan Buddhism): with a single phrase, one can awaken to the ten thousand teachings. Now I too say: when people read my book, they will come to know Jīnquán, understand the true transmission, master the mysteries of Yin-Yang transformation, and discern the pivotal workings of creation. May I find those with whom I share an affinity, and ascend together into the clouds.

From the Daoist Light era entry in the Three Commentaries.