《象言破疑》

The preface to Breaking Doubts Through Symbolic Language says that alchemical scriptures—texts on Neidan (internal alchemy)—often use images and metaphors to express their principles. “Symbolic language” means neither a direct explanation nor vague or deliberately strange speech. It uses concrete things and natural patterns as analogies to clarify the underlying truth.

Later readers who fail to investigate the meaning of these metaphors and cling only to their literal images can easily misunderstand them. Confucian scholars may find them absurd and contrary to reason, while Daoists may regard them as surface language that conceals the true meaning. Others fixate on the words, speculate wildly, and affect an air of profundity, entering obscure and misguided methods of cultivation that may even endanger their lives. Could this really have been the intention of the ancient sages who used symbols to express their teachings?

The Book of Changes says that nothing surpasses Heaven and Earth as models for taking images; nothing makes change and continuity clearer than the four seasons; and nothing is more plainly visible among the signs hung in the sky than the sun and moon. Alchemical scriptures inherit the principles of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes): they speak of medicines and the firing process, and use Heaven and Earth, the sun and moon, and the four seasons to explain the subtleties of cultivation. If the metaphors in alchemical scriptures are dismissed as absurd or as words that conceal the truth, must the wind, clouds, thunder, and lightning in the Book of Changes be treated the same way? What of its dragons and tigers, oxen and horses, deer and sheep, tortoises and pheasants, or images such as “the blind can see,” “the lame can walk,” “climbing a city wall,” and “companions gathering”? Must these, too, be taken as absurdities or empty appearances?

The author laments that the true path has been lost for a long time; this did not begin today. After meeting a genuine teacher, he compared the alchemical scriptures of various schools and grasped the purpose of their metaphors. He then recorded what he had learned from his teacher in works such as Joining with Understanding, Elucidating the Truth, and Tracing the Original Meaning. Still concerned that readers might struggle to bring the teachings together, he wrote Breaking Doubts Through Symbolic Language and added illustrations. In it, he carefully distinguishes right from wrong, clears away heterodox teachings, points out the true path, and separates false doctrines from orthodox teachings. He hopes that readers will remember, as they read, that even those who have passed away may leave behind teachings helpful to cultivation, and will not lightly discard the book’s contents as useless dregs.

This preface was written in the first month of spring in the sixteenth year of the Jiaqing reign (1811). The author, Liu Yiming, known as Wuyuanzi, wrote it at the Cleansing the Heart Pavilion on Qiyun Mountain.

Classical texts on the cultivation of the Dao often discuss the path of Wuwei (non-action), and rarely the path of deliberate action. Only those of the highest wisdom can suddenly grasp the path of Wuwei, understand it completely, seize its essentials at once, and swiftly enter the realm of the sages. Those of middling or lesser ability are dull in mind and nature, deeply attached, and limited in understanding. If they practice the path of Wuwei directly, they often lack the capacity to succeed: they cannot empty themselves of every concern and reach the far shore directly.

In the Eastern Han, the immortal Wei Boyang wrote the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three) on the basis of the principles of the Yi (Book of Changes), to guide cultivators of middling and lesser ability. He used visible things to represent invisible principles, and concrete images to explain abstract ideas. Thus alchemical texts came to use symbolic terms such as the Golden Elixir, lead and mercury, cinnabar and silver, the Crow and Hare, the Dragon and Tiger, the Infant and Maiden, ingredients, furnace and cauldron, and cooking and refining. Many realized adepts who came later wrote alchemical texts with the Cantong qi as their guiding principle, clarifying its subtleties. They intended later students of the Dao to understand its principles through these metaphors, then use those principles to verify their own cultivation.

Yet later scholars did not investigate the purpose of the metaphors or trace the principles behind the images. Seeing the Golden Elixir, lead and mercury, or furnace and cauldron, they assumed the texts described substances to be ingested and turned to firing alchemical furnaces. Seeing the Crow and Hare or Dragon and Tiger, they assumed the texts referred to the body’s organs and turned to visualization. Seeing “his house” and “my house,” Yin-Yang, and male and female, they assumed the texts described dual cultivation between men and women and turned to gathering and replenishing. Seeing reversal, inversion, and the turning of things against their natural course, they assumed they were meant to forcefully manipulate the process and turned to circulating the breath. Seeing the cultivation of nature through Wuwei, they assumed it meant passive extinction and fell into a dull emptiness. Seeing the deliberate cultivation of life, they assumed it meant manipulating the body and became attached to outward forms. These different approaches mistake symbols for real things and misunderstand the true meaning of cultivation. They not only fail to benefit nature and life, but actually cause harm. Could this really have been what the patriarchs intended when they used forms and images, and taught the Dao through metaphor?

An “image” is a comparison: one thing is used to represent another, or one event to explain another. Consider an example familiar to everyone. When cooking, the pot is like a cauldron, and the stove is like a furnace. Water sits in the pot, while fire burns beneath the stove. Fire naturally rises and water naturally falls, yet here water is above and fire below: placed in opposite positions, they work together to cook the food. This is an image from daily life of water and fire harmonizing.

A person’s forceful, impatient, and active nature belongs to fire; gentleness, ease, and stillness belong to water. Use gentleness to nurture force, so that force becomes gentle. When firmness and softness are in harmony, neither too urgent nor too slow, one returns to a balanced state, and the Great Dao becomes easy to cultivate. This is the principle of harmonizing “divine water” and “divine fire.” Using the familiar image of water and fire working together to explain the principles of inner cultivation makes those principles easier to understand.

Consider another example. Someone once had a prosperous family estate but failed to live within their means, squandering nearly all their wealth. Later, they came to their senses and repented, worked hard to make a living again, and gradually built up their fortune from little to much, eventually restoring the family estate. This is an image of recovering one’s roots and returning to one’s origin. A person’s spirit and original Qi are originally full and complete. But after entering postnatal life, they follow the course of natural change, exhausting their vitality, wearying their spirit, and dissipating their Qi until it gradually declines. If they can reform themselves, restrain anger and desire, dispel false thoughts, remain sincere and upright, and practice step by step, they can ultimately return to the root and restore their life. This is the principle of restoring the original and returning to the root in Daoist cultivation. Using the familiar image of restoring a family estate to explain the return to the root in cultivating the Dao makes the principle clear.

Consider one more example. When a man and woman come together in the world, they can have children; this is an image of the continuation of human life. When a person’s Yin-Yang is harmonized and brought together, immortals and Buddhas can be realized; this is the principle of unceasing generation in the alchemical Way. The image of men and women joining and bringing forth new life is used to explain the alchemical Way’s unceasing generation.

Alchemical texts use images to represent principles. They teach people to discern through those images the principles that guide actual practice. They do not tell people to go against those principles and merely imitate the images on their surface. People today do not investigate the principles and recognize only the surface symbols. This is truly regrettable. Alchemical texts contain many symbolic expressions, and students should reason from the images to the principles. Once they understand what an image conveys, they can leave behind the words and the image itself; only then are they approaching the true path.

On Reversal and Accord

Everyone in the world knows how to live in accord with the natural patterns of transformation, yet does not understand how to reverse the work of Creation. What is meant by “following”? It means going along with the patterns of Creation. What is meant by “reversing”? It means going against them. When people follow Creation, they are born, all things grow, and they pass through birth, aging, illness, and death in an endless cycle of rebirth. When they reverse Creation, they can become immortals or Buddhas and attain a state beyond birth and death, living as long as Heaven and Earth.

After being conceived by their parents and coming into the world, people reach the postcelestial stage at around the age of sixteen. Their minds are deluded by the seven emotions and six desires, while worldly affairs and relationships weigh on them and wear down their bodies. They take the false for the real, the deviant for the true Way, and suffering for pleasure, indulging their desires in nearly every way. As a result, the Three Treasures they originally possessed—Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit)—are gradually depleted, and their originally complete and luminous true nature becomes wholly obscured. They do not stop until their breath is about to fail. Thus they cycle through life and death from one lifetime to the next, sinking ever deeper, as the saying goes: “When the King of Hell does not summon you, you go to your death of your own accord.”

A person of great wisdom, by contrast, reverses Creation. They are not constrained by Creation, shaped by the changes of Yin-Yang, or drawn along by the myriad things and all manner of worldly entanglements. They plant lotuses in a raging fire and sail through muddy waters. They cultivate the Dao amid worldly life, following the human way in order to preserve the Way of Heaven. They uproot the accumulated “dust of the roots” from past lifetimes—the attachments and habits formed over many lives—and sweep away acquired influences: the distracting thoughts and deviant energies taken on after birth. In this way, they take command of their own nature and life, rather than submitting to Heaven’s decree; they recover their original Qianyuan state, their pure inborn nature, leave the cycle of rebirth, transcend the Three Realms, and become a vajra body that cannot be destroyed.

Yet the key to reversing Creation amid ordinary circumstances involves secret methods transmitted orally and mind to mind. A true master must teach them; they cannot be grasped through private speculation. Some people in the world who study the Dao have only a meager understanding and a narrow outlook. They memorize a few technical terms, read a handful of recorded cases, and assume they already understand. They stop seeking instruction and instead show off and speak recklessly wherever they go. They understand nothing, yet lead others astray. This is truly blameworthy.

There is another kind of deluded person who cannot recognize a true master. Today they pay respects to one teacher, tomorrow they study with another, learning only minor practices and then imagining they have attained the Dao. Even when an enlightened person is right before them, they refuse to ask humbly for guidance and instead practice blindly. They call sinking the breath and raising kidney Qi “reversal”; they call raising the breath up the back and lowering it down the front “reversal.” Or they label methods such as returning Jing to nourish the brain, holding the breath to still the spirit, gathering Yin to replenish Yang, and placing the man below and the woman above as forms of “reversal.” Such methods are countless, but they all depart from the sages’ Way. They do not reverse Creation; they lead toward death, not toward life.

What is called “reversal” is really a return to the beginning, when one’s parents first brought one into the world. It is like someone who has traveled far from home turning back and following the road home.

Though it is called “reversal,” in practice it follows the underlying principle. It is the great alignment found within “reversal.” It is called “reversal” only because it runs counter to the direction ordinary people take. Those who follow heterodox and deviant paths are misled by the word “reversal” and perform all sorts of bodily actions, yet in the end gain nothing. Is that not foolish?

On Medicinal Substances

The gathering of the medicine and the cooking and refining of the Golden Elixir described in alchemical texts and Daoist treatises refer to the formless, immaterial realities of the precelestial state. They are neither herbs that can be seen and touched in the world nor tangible substances within the human body. After birth, people often mistake the false for the true and exhaust the treasures that were originally complete within them. As a result, Yin Qi grows excessive throughout the body and harmful influences abound; people become like those suffering from a grave illness, weakening day by day. Without a true numinous medicine to heal them, how can they transform Yin into Yang and preserve their lives?

What is the true numinous medicine? It is the precelestial Qi of True Unity, namely the three treasures of precelestial Jing, Qi, and Shen. The precelestial Qi of True Unity is also called the “true seed.” Though it takes no concrete form, within the utmost nothingness it contains the utmost fullness, and within the utmost emptiness it contains the utmost substance. It is the wondrous presence within true emptiness, encompassing the three treasures of Jing, Qi, and Shen. These three treasures, too, are not tangible things, but formless true substance.

The Elder Yuchan said: “Jing is not the seminal fluid produced through the union of man and woman, but the saliva in the mouth of the Jade Emperor. Qi is not the breath, but the smoke of Great Simplicity. Shen is not the spirit engaged in thought, but one that can stand alongside the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning.” Though Jing, Qi, and Shen are named as three, at root they all belong to the precelestial One Qi: joined together, the three become one Qi; the one Qi, in turn, differentiates into the three treasures.

“Gathering the medicine” means gathering and refining this Qi and the three treasures, then using the true fire—a metaphor in Neidan cultivation for the process of refining and nourishing—to temper them until they congeal into the Golden Elixir. In this way, the various Yin influences in the body are dispelled, and one returns to the original state of pure Yang, tranquility, and freedom from stain or dust, like a patient restored to health through medicinal treatment.

The “medicine” spoken of here is only a metaphor. Later readers of alchemical texts mistook their references to medicine for tangible substances. They gathered herbs in the mountains, compounded and swallowed them, vainly hoping to attain long life; or they refined the five metals and eight stones—that is, various metals and minerals—into pills to swallow, vainly hoping to ascend to immortality. They did not understand that tangible medicines can treat only tangible illnesses, not formless ones. To treat a formless illness, one must gather and refine the precelestial Qi of True Unity; there is no other way.

The Cantong qi says: “Things of the same kind readily unite, making the work easy; things of different kinds are difficult to bring together with skill.” The Wuzhen pian says: “When bamboo is broken, bamboo should be used to mend it; to hatch a chick, one should use an egg. Using all kinds of unrelated things is only wasted effort—how could that compare with true lead, which accords with the principles of sagehood?” “True lead” here refers to the precelestial Qi of True Unity. From this, it is clear that mistaking ordinary medicines for medicines of immortality is misguided.

On the Firing Times

In alchemical scriptures and works on the Elixir Way, “fire timing” is a metaphor for the sequence and principles that govern each stage of cultivation. Cultivation has an order, a pace, and movements of advance and retreat, all of which must be arranged appropriately to suit the circumstances. What should come first must not be put off; what should come later must not be rushed. When one should act swiftly, one must not be slow; when one should go slowly, one must not be hasty. When one should advance, one must not retreat; when one should retreat, one must not advance. This is like refining medicine over a furnace: one must know when to use a gentle flame or a strong flame, and when to advance, withdraw, pause, or rest. Thus the sequence of cultivation is explained through the metaphor of “fire timing.”

Fire timing in cultivation is not bound by fixed hours, days, months, or years. At every moment it must be adjusted to the actual circumstances: what should come first comes first, what should come later comes later; what calls for urgency is met with urgency, what calls for patience with patience; one advances when it is time to advance and retreats when it is time to retreat. One must adapt to changing conditions without the slightest error.

To do what should come first means to discipline the mind with care; to do what should come later means to regulate the outward aspects afterward. To act urgently means to apply oneself diligently; to act gradually means to slow down and nurture the process. To advance means to continue augmenting Yang while Yang Qi is not yet sufficient; to retreat means to withdraw from Yin as soon as it begins to arise. This is the true principle of fire timing. It does not mean, as some practitioners claim, advancing the Yang fire at the Zi hour, withdrawing the Yin tally at the Wu hour, and bathing at the Mao and You hours. Nor does it mean advancing the Yang fire at the winter solstice, withdrawing the Yin tally at the summer solstice, and bathing at the spring and autumn equinoxes.

The heavens have their Zi, Wu, Mao, and You; the human body, too, has its own Zi, Wu, Mao, and You. The corresponding times in the heavens cannot simply be treated as the times for cultivation in the body. The body’s Zi, Wu, Mao, and You are changing constantly. An ancient scripture says, “There is no need to seek Zi and Wu at the edge of the heavens; within the body, Yang arises of itself.” The arising of Yang Qi is “Zi,” and the arising of Yin Qi is “Wu.” When Yin and Yang unite, this is “Mao”; when Yang and Yin unite, this is “You.” These are the “living Zi, Wu, Mao, and You,” determined by changes in body and mind, not the fixed hours of the heavens.

The Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir says, “Fire timing need not be confined to the hours; the winter solstice does not fall at the Zi hour. As for the method of bathing, Mao and You are only borrowed as metaphors.” The Awakening to the Truth says, “Even if you know cinnabar and black lead, without understanding fire timing, that knowledge is of no use. In the end, everything depends on the work of cultivation; the slightest error prevents the Elixir from forming.” These statements show that “winter solstice” and “Mao and You” do not refer to fixed hours in the heavens. If they were understood as celestial times, then of the twelve double-hours in a day only four would be used for cultivation, while the other eight would require no effort. It would then be impossible to avoid the slightest error.

The Mirror of Compounding the Medicine says, “In the twelve double-hours of a day, whenever the mind and intention are engaged, one can practice.” This shows that cultivation requires sustained effort at every moment of the year, month, day, and hour: one must guard against danger and proceed with care, allowing no slightest error. The sixty-four hexagrams, too, are used to explain fire timing as symbols that indicate the methods of Yin-Yang advance and retreat. They teach practitioners to adjust their cultivation according to circumstances; they do not require anyone to cultivate by following the hexagrams in their fixed sequence. The Awakening to the Truth says, “The images set out in the hexagrams are there to express the principle. Once you grasp what the images convey, there is no need to cling to the words. Deluded people in the world cling only to the hexagram images, act according to the sequence of hexagram Qi, and still expect thereby to ascend.” When reading, one should understand why the ancients used images to express their words. Once the meaning is grasped, the images can be set aside.

The principles of cultivating the Real are expressed through images in the myriad scriptures and classics. Though the images used are not always the same, in the end they all explain the alternation and direction of Yin and Yang, the true and false ingredients, and the principles of fire timing. Beyond these, there is no other principle. After receiving instruction from my teacher, I truly understood the meaning contained in these images. Unwilling to keep it to myself, I wish to share it with those who understand this Way. I have therefore selected key passages from the alchemical scriptures, added diagrams and explanations, and distinguished right from wrong to help students dispel their doubts. The remaining material can be understood by applying the same approach.

The Embryonic Form of the Elixir

Before a person is born of their parents—that is, when the Yin-Yang energies of man and woman meet—a point of life emerges from nothingness amid the profound and subtle. This is what is called the “primordial original Qi” (the fundamental primordial energy from which all things arise). The original Qi enters the vital essence and blood, causing them to blend as one. From formlessness, a body gradually takes shape; from insubstantiality, it gradually becomes solid. The five viscera and six bowels within, and the five sense organs and hundred bones without, all arise through natural transformation. Even a pregnant woman does not know its mystery.

Later students do not understand this principle. Some suspect that while a person is in the womb, the umbilical cord connects them to the mother, and as the mother breathes, the fetus breathes along with her, gradually changing and taking shape. This is mistaken. Breath belongs to postnatal Qi; how could it transform vital essence and blood and bring forth a body? Besides, how could breath enter the womb? They do not know that within the mother’s womb, the fetus has only a single point of primordial original Qi, undivided and whole. First it gathers into the fetus, then nourishes it, and finally brings it to complete development. From beginning to end, this is all the work of the original Qi, with nothing else mixed in.

At this stage, although the fetus already has a human form, it does not yet have the condition of human life. The things of Heaven and Earth, water and fire, blades and weapons cannot harm it; the seven emotions, six desires, and the “five thieves and four appearances” (Daoist terms for various factors that obstruct body and mind in cultivation) cannot approach it either. In the end, it exists in a state of utter emptiness. The ancient immortals taught people to cultivate the Dao by returning to their original state before their parents had given birth to them: to return to the realm of emptiness, without sound or scent. Being without sound or scent is “Wuji” (the undifferentiated origin, without form or image). Wuji is “nothing” brought to its utmost extent: the state of having nothing at all.

The infant’s original state.

While in the womb, the fetus develops over ten months until it is fully formed. Like ripe fruit falling from its stem, it breaks through the amniotic sac and is born. At birth, its feet point upward and its head downward. It lets out a cry of “wa,” and only then begins to take in acquired Qi—the Qi breathed through the mouth and nose after birth. This Qi enters the body through the mouth and nose and descends to the Sea of Qi, the abdominal Dantian region in Daoist terminology, where it joins with the prenatal Original Qi, the fundamental Qi one is born with. The prenatal is the root, while the acquired Qi carries out its functions: acquired Qi relies on prenatal Qi to sustain the flow of breath, while prenatal Qi also draws on acquired Qi to nourish the blood vessels.

Moreover, when an infant is born, the discursive Shen—the spirit of discrimination and cognition, brought through the cycles of reincarnation—also enters the body’s orifices and merges with the prenatal Original Shen, the innate spirit. Original Shen is preserved through discursive Shen, while discursive Shen receives its numinous quality from Original Shen. Yet although a newborn already has acquired Qi and acquired Shen, the prenatal governs the acquired and the acquired follows the prenatal. Prenatal and acquired remain seamlessly united, undivided in primordial indistinction, without discriminating awareness: the infant is entirely innocent and pure.

When the ancient immortals taught people to investigate the “place of bodily birth,” they meant the state in which life first takes shape—in other words, the infant’s condition at birth. Some who do not understand mistakenly think that the “place of bodily birth” means a woman’s birth canal. This is incorrect. The newborn’s face is pure and unblemished: it is the embryo of sages and worthies, the root of immortals and Buddhas. For this reason, birds of prey do not attack it, and tigers and rhinoceroses—fierce beasts—do not harm it. They leave the infant unharmed because it has no calculating mind. Without a mind, life and death cannot impede it; what disasters or troubles, then, could arise?

This is the symbol of the “Initial Ultimate,” the ultimate point of the beginning. The Initial Ultimate is the point at which all things begin: at that time, nothing acquired has yet become intermingled. Though it has already blended with the acquired, it is still governed entirely by the prenatal. It is at the earliest stage, just as formation is beginning to emerge from nonbeing.

As an infant gradually grows, learning to walk and speak and to follow others’ guidance, this stage is called “child,” or “a young child.” An infant has not yet developed cognition and awareness, while a child already has; this is like a cloud rising in a clear sky, beginning to obscure the purity of one’s original nature.

With cognition and awareness, one develops gradually from the “initial utmost” toward the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). Taiji is a state that has reached its fullest development; once fullness peaks, it must turn toward decline. When Yang Qi reaches its limit, it too turns toward Yin Qi, though Yin Qi has not yet become apparent.

Before Yin Qi begins to arise, innate Qi is still at work, while acquired Qi remains latent. Although cognition and awareness have emerged, things encountered by the senses have not yet disturbed the heart-mind, and acquired habits have not yet intruded from outside. One eats when hungry and puts on clothes when cold; joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure arise naturally with circumstances and fade along with them. One makes no distinctions about wealth or rank, hardship, or whether one’s fortunes are favorable. One follows things as they are, free of distracting thoughts. This state is also the foundation of the sages and the beginning of the cultivation of immortals and Buddhas.

Some people misunderstand and take “child” to mean “infant”; this is incorrect. An infant is a “red child,” while a child is a “young one.” Though both retain their natural innocence, they belong to different stages and differ in their cognition. Thus, when ancient adepts spoke of “returning to the root and restoring the origin,” they meant returning to the infant’s original condition, not to a child’s playful and ignorant state.

The Division of Yin and Yang

As a child continues to grow, reaching “fullness of Qi at two times eight” (usually referring to a certain stage of physical and mental development), Yang Qi reaches its limit, and Yin Qi begins to arise. As growth continues, the body’s sensory openings gradually open, and Yin and Yang begin to separate, each taking its own side. The originally pure nature becomes mixed with delusion. One should therefore understand the need to return to the root and restore the origin—to return to the infant’s original condition, rather than taking a child’s unruly behavior as a model.

As a person grows from infancy to the stage called “the Qi of two eights is full” (when Yin and Yang Qi are abundant), Yang Qi reaches its peak and Yin Qi begins to arise. The apertures of the heart seem to open a little more each day. Yin and Yang gradually separate, each taking its own side. The genuine becomes mixed with the false, and a person’s knowledge gradually grows; they begin to distinguish good from evil. This is like the Taiji dividing, with Yin and Yang separating from one another.

The phrase “the Qi of two eights is full” uses the moon’s two crescents—the waxing and waning halves—coming together to form a complete, bright circle as a metaphor for innate Yang Qi reaching its peak, like Taiji before it has divided. When Yang reaches its extreme, it must turn into Yin, just as Yin and Yang separate once Taiji divides.

Some people misunderstand this and take “Yin arises from two eights” to mean that a boy begins to emit semen at the age of sixteen. That is not so. Some boys in the world emit semen at fourteen or fifteen; others do so at sixteen or seventeen, or at eighteen or nineteen. The timing varies. This shows that “two eights” does not refer to a person’s age, but to Qi having become full.

Each of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) is assigned its own direction.

Once Yin and Yang separated, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) lost their original harmony. The Five Phases refer to five kinds of Qi (vital energy). In the pre-heavenly state, they generate one another: Earth generates Metal, Metal generates Water, Water generates Wood, Wood generates Fire, and Fire generates Earth. Together, they form a single Qi, expressed as the five virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. In the post-heavenly state, the Five Phases instead overcome one another: Earth overcomes Water, Water overcomes Fire, Fire overcomes Metal, Metal overcomes Wood, and Wood overcomes Earth. They harm one another, appearing as joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, and desire—the five forces that disturb the human mind, known as the “Five Thieves.” When the Five Phases are in harmony, the five virtues are complete and Yin and Yang return to unity. When the Five Phases disperse, the Five Thieves arise and Yin and Yang become disordered.

Once the Five Phases separate, conscious activity gradually takes hold, and the senses and external things exert an increasingly strong pull. One’s true nature recedes, deluded consciousness takes charge, and a person loses the pure, childlike state of an infant.

Some people correspond the Five Phases to the five organs and conclude that the organs themselves are the Five Phases. This is incorrect. The five organs are post-heavenly things with physical form and substance; they are merely temporary abodes for the post-heavenly Five Phases, not the seat of the virtues of the pre-heavenly Five Phases. If the organs themselves were the Five Phases, how could the organs be separated or joined as one? The pre-heavenly Five Phases are rooted in what came before birth, while the post-heavenly Five Phases take shape after birth. The pre-heavenly state leads a person toward sagehood; the post-heavenly state forms the condition of ordinary people. Though the two kinds of Five Phases differ in when they arise, both are fluid and changing, with no fixed location. Thus, the five organs, being physical, substantial, and dense, cannot be identified with the Five Phases themselves.

The post-heavenly state begins to take charge.

When Yin and Yang are divided, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) take shape. Once postnatal Qi (vital energy) begins to move, the prenatal retreats into the background. The temperament shaped by one’s endowment and circumstances then begins to show itself, while influences from the outside world gradually stain the body and mind like dust. The six roots—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind, through which we perceive the world—can each invite disturbances that unsettle us. The seven emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, aversion, and desire—can also give rise to many troubles. Our originally pure nature is gradually invaded by Yin Qi. Yin Qi keeps growing as Yang Qi keeps waning. As Yin grows and Yang declines over time, a person who indulges desire may come to do anything at all.

The foolish do not understand this. They mistake temperament shaped by one’s endowment and circumstances for one’s true nature, and this is wrong. True nature is the nature bestowed by Heaven: it is prenatal and benefits people. Temperament takes shape after birth: it is postnatal and may harm them. How can a temperament formed after birth be mistaken for the nature present from the beginning?

Pure Yin, No Yang

When postnatal Qi holds sway, Yin Qi advances and Yang Qi retreats. A person’s temperament takes shape after birth and may be harmful. How, then, can postnatal nature be taken for prenatal nature? Yin Qi gradually grows strong as Yang Qi gradually recedes, until the person becomes “pure Yin, with no Yang.”

As postnatal Qi acts day after day and year after year, stray thoughts within the mind bring trouble, while the myriad things of the outside world continually draw upon the body and mind. Under this assault from within and without, Yang Qi is exhausted, leaving only Yin Qi throughout the body. The Three Treasures—Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit)—are depleted, and even the hun and po souls can no longer be preserved. How could one escape death?

The foolish do not understand the principle at work. They attribute death to the end of one’s allotted fate and lifespan, believing that everything is Heaven’s will. This is wrong. People depend on Yang Qi to live: as long as even a little Yang Qi remains within the body, they will not die; as long as Yin Qi has not completely occupied the body, they will not die. To follow Yin Qi’s course and let Yang Qi perish is to bring death upon oneself. What does this have to do with Heaven’s will? The seven diagrams discussed above all explain the normal course of creation through which people come into being.

Refining the Self and Establishing the Foundation (the stage of cultivating the mind and character and laying a firm foundation in practice)

The path of cultivating the Dao is a path of return. “Return” means coming back after having departed; “restore” means regaining the Yang Qi that has been lost. In other words, one must recover the original True Yang while in a state of pure Yin. Once a person enters ordinary, postnatal life, Yin gradually grows dominant in the body, and the innate Yang Qi is eventually depleted. Without practicing the work of return and restoration, how can what has been lost reappear, or lost Yang Qi be regained?

The work of return and restoration begins with “refining the self and establishing the foundation.” “Refining the self” means tempering oneself: removing dusty habits accumulated over many lifetimes, rigidities of temperament, and the habits and restlessness acquired after birth. This is like restraining anger and desire, disciplining oneself, and bringing one’s conduct into accord with proper norms. Only then can the mind be free of distracting thoughts, the intention remain undisturbed, and the foundation become firm. Just as a house requires a sound foundation, a firm base is needed to support the timber and bricks used to build it.

Refining the self takes place within establishing the foundation, and establishing the foundation cannot be separated from refining the self. Some people understand refining the self as guarding the mind, and establishing the foundation as sealing away Jing and Qi. This is mistaken. Refining the self runs through the entire practice of the alchemical Way, and is complete only when Yin has been entirely dispelled and Yang made fully pure. Until that state is reached, refining the self must not stop. If guarding the mind and sealing away Jing and Qi were enough to refine the self and establish the foundation, how could one accomplish the great undertaking of cultivating the Golden Elixir? The ancient immortals said, “The Golden Elixir is restored in an instant, but refining the self takes ten months.” This shows that refining the self cannot be accomplished merely by guarding the mind and sealing away Jing.

“True goodness of heart” can be understood as the innate goodness of the human heart.

What cultivation calls “refining the self and laying the foundation” (cultivating one’s heart and nature and establishing a firm basis) does not mean forcing oneself or grinding through painful practice. It means recognizing the innate goodness of one’s true heart and cultivating through it. Then, even in darkness, a glimmer of light like sunshine will appear. This is called the “true numinous nature”: one’s genuine, luminous nature. Once it emerges, right and wrong, the proper and the deviant, become unmistakably clear. One is no longer pulled along by material desires or tainted by worldly attachments, and refining the self becomes no difficult task.

If one cannot recognize the true heart, one cannot distinguish the proper from the deviant or discern right from wrong. One then uses one thought to suppress another. In the end, it is the acquired human mind that holds sway, and the result is merely forced restraint. This is precisely the situation described by the saying, “Trying to get rid of delusions only adds new troubles; trying to move toward Suchness leads just as far astray.” How, then, can one reach the state of “no self”—of not clinging to the self? Those who do not understand mistake the acquired human mind for the true heart. That is wrong. The true heart has no fixed thoughts; this unattached mind is the heart of innate goodness. With that heart, how could it be difficult to overcome one’s selfish desires?

The Stele in a Hundred Characters says: “Whether moving or still, understand the fundamental purpose. Since there is nothing to do, why search everywhere?” The Rhapsody on the Yellow Crane says that without the true seed, one cannot sustain even an instant of practice apart from the seven inner cinnabars—a term in Neidan cultivation. Zhang Sanfeng says that laying the foundation requires the “bellows,” a metaphor for a method of cultivating the breath, while refining the self also requires “true lead,” a Neidan term. The ancestral true seed, the bellows, and true lead are all different names for the true heart of innate goodness. Ah, how hard it is to recognize this true heart! Whoever truly recognizes it has grasped the root, and from there all things can be understood.

Yang energy grows, and Yin energy recedes.

Recognize your innate goodness and true heart—the pure, genuine heart within your nature—and let the true master, the original ruling mind of the practitioner, dwell securely at the center. As you cultivate the Dao, selfish desires and scattered thoughts diminish day by day, while your practice deepens day by day. Yang Qi gradually increases, and Yin Qi gradually recedes. Yang Qi continues to increase and Yin Qi to recede until neither can be increased or diminished any further; only then has practice reached its utmost.

The foolish do not understand this. They think that if they simply sit quietly in Wuwei (non-action), sink into stillness and emptiness, or even cling to a stubborn void, Yang Qi will naturally increase and Yin Qi will fade away on its own. This is wrong. The so-called returning of the Elixir means cultivating and refining the Neidan so that the source of life returns to its original state; it means bringing Yang forth again from within Yin. If one relies only on quiet sitting, Wuwei, and an empty stillness to seek the return of Yang Qi, how could Yang Qi arrive by itself, or Yin Qi recede on its own? The Wuzhen pian says: “Even if you recognize cinnabar and black lead—the symbolic substances used in alchemical work—without understanding the timing and measure of the firing process, they remain useless things left idle. In general, everything depends on the work of cultivation; the slightest error, and the Elixir cannot form.” From this we can see that there are methods for advancing Yang and withdrawing Yin.

Gathering the Five Phases

After Yang Qi has increased and Yin Qi has receded, one must also understand how to gather the Five Phases. When the Five Phases are gathered, the Great Dao may be attained. To gather them means to bring forth the precelestial Five Phases from within the postcelestial Five Phases: the postcelestial phases overcome one another, while the precelestial phases engender one another. To “return” means to transform mutual overcoming into mutual engendering. When the Five Phases engender one another, they accord wholly with the principle of Heaven. This is also the Five Phases returning to a single Qi, with the Four Images—the changing forms of Yin and Yang in their mature and nascent states—harmonized together.

The foolish do not understand this. They think that directing the Qi of the heart and kidneys with the mind so that it meets above and below, then circulating the Qi of the liver and lungs so that it meets from left to right, is what it means to gather the Five Phases. This is wrong. The Qi of the five organs consists entirely of postcelestial things with form: they come into being and also decay. How could such Qi condense into a life treasure that endures forever?

Yin and Yang in Combination

The Five Phases arise through the differentiation of Yin-Yang. When the Five Phases gather and return to unity, Yin-Yang likewise recombine as one. Once Yin-Yang have blended, the Golden Elixir—the achievement described in Neidan cultivation—takes shape, appearing as though it had the face of an infant. Yet at this point, postnatal Qi, the breath formed after birth, has not been fully refined. Even so, once prenatal Qi has returned, postnatal Qi will fall into line and cease to cause obstruction. With further cultivation, the Golden Elixir can then be refined to completion.

Some people misunderstand this and think that the blending of Yin-Yang means the heart and kidneys joining, the Ren and Du meridians meeting, or sexual intercourse between a man and a woman. This is mistaken. The Golden Elixir forms through the coalescence of the Qi of prenatal emptiness. How could it be formed from postnatal, tangible substances such as Qi and blood?

A Single Undivided Qi

Yin-Yang return and blend once more into one, restoring the face of an infant. From then on, one continues the refining with the natural True Fire, removing the residual Yin from the postnatal condition until body and mind return to a state beyond knowing and awareness, with Shen and Qi stored and gathered within. This is what is called “a man’s pregnancy.” The embryo spoken of here is the infant-like countenance; it is also the place where the fire of life first arises and receives Qi. It is what is called the “Ultimate Beginning,” or “the Great One containing True Qi.”

Some people do not understand these principles. They gather what they call “red lead” and pluck what they call “plum blossoms,” then ingest and swallow them, believing this will form the sacred embryo. This is mistaken. If one supposes that red lead and plum blossoms can form a sacred embryo, all that will eventually take shape is a lump of blood and flesh—a “ghost embryo” that hastens one’s death. What else could one expect?

Vast Emptiness

After the Sacred Embryo has formed, it must be gently nurtured for ten months. Natural true fire is used to warm and refine it, making what was faint become manifest and what was tender become firm. As the various Yin energies within the body are gradually stripped away, the Sacred Embryo reaches completion and the Golden Elixir is formed, like ripe fruit falling naturally from the vine. Suddenly, the chaos is broken open, and the pure Dharma Body—the body and mind free from defilement—appears. It leaps into the vast realm of emptiness and nothingness, beyond the Three Realms. This is one’s original nature before birth, the face of the Limitless. The Dao ultimately returns to the Limitless. Body and spirit reach the utmost subtlety and unite with the Dao: this is the completion of a great man’s work in cultivation.

The ignorant do not understand this. Some direct their spirit while gazing into a mirror; some meditate on the crown of the head; some face a wall and forget the body; others cultivate a Yin spirit, an Yin-associated spiritual form. All these methods are mistaken. The spirit that emerges through the transformation of the Golden Elixir is a Yang spirit, a Yang spiritual form formed through Golden Elixir cultivation. The spirits produced by various seated meditation practices are Yin spirits. The Yang spirit endures without arising or perishing. Yin spirits have not undergone refinement by true fire; after leaving the body, they enter a body again. There are many paths of cultivation, but without the illumination of the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir, even those who can freely leave and enter the body as Yin spirits, and foresee the past and future, cannot escape the cycle of reincarnation. As the saying goes: “Even after ten thousand kalpas, in the end one still returns to extinction.”

Xiangyan Poyi, juan 2

Golden Elixir

“Gold” refers to something hard, enduring, and difficult to destroy; “elixir” refers to something complete, bright, pure, and flawless. The ancient immortals used the name “Golden Elixir” as a metaphor for the luminous, numinous, and complete nature of the true spirit that people possess from the beginning—their inherently clear, wondrous, and whole true nature.

Confucians call this nature the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji); Buddhists call it Perfect Enlightenment; Daoists call it the Golden Elixir. Though the names differ, they refer to the same thing. By cultivating oneself according to the Confucian Way, one can become a sage; by cultivating according to the Buddhist Way, one can attain Buddhahood; by cultivating according to the Daoist Way, one can become an immortal. The sages of all three teachings take the true nature inherent in each person as the foundation for attaining the Way.

Foolish people do not understand this. Some smelt minerals such as the five metals and eight stones into a medicine and call it the “Golden Elixir.” This is mistaken. The true nature is tempered and brought to maturity in the furnace through which Heaven and Earth transform and nurture all things. It can endure as long as Heaven and Earth and shine as brightly as the sun and moon. How could anything in the world that has form and substance possibly be refined into such a Golden Elixir?

The first priority in cultivation is to recognize the “heart of Heaven and Earth,” that is, the true, innate goodness described earlier. It is subtle and profound, and does not reveal itself easily. Only when the mind is clear and empty—like white light appearing in a quiet chamber, or a sudden brightness breaking through darkness—does it show the slightest sign.

Heaven belongs to Yang, and Earth to Yin. The heart of Heaven and Earth is formed when Yin and Yang unite, neither departing from the other. This heart exists only when Yin and Yang are joined; when they separate, it cannot appear. It is neither form nor emptiness, yet it is inseparable from both; it can be called neither existent nor nonexistent, yet it is inseparable from both existence and nonexistence. Form and emptiness do not obstruct one another, and existence and nonexistence are never fixed. This is “wondrous existence within true emptiness,” meaning that even in still, empty quietude, subtle vitality remains.

Once you recognize this heart and hold fast to it without losing it, the foundation of cultivation is established, and everything else becomes easier. Fools fail to understand this and keep speculating about the heart in the physical body. Some take active thoughts to be the heart of Heaven and Earth; some take still thoughts to be that heart; others believe that fixing the mind in the central palace—the place of cultivation at the body’s center—is the heart of Heaven and Earth. All of these views are mistaken.

The so-called stubborn mind is the human mind governed by acquired selfish desires. When thoughts are active, it clings to “existence”; when thoughts are still, it clings to “nonexistence”; when the mind is made to stop, it clings to a particular form. These states of mind are far removed from the heart of Heaven and Earth. Whether moving or still, that heart remains the same: in utter stillness it can respond and become fully attuned; once it has responded and become fully attuned, it returns to stillness. How could it be the stagnant, grasping heart in the physical body?

The “crescent-moon furnace” (a Daoist Neidan term for an image that symbolizes the furnace and cauldron used in cultivation).

The crescent moon refers to a sliver of moon shaped like an upturned eyebrow. When the moon has grown completely dark, light begins to emerge again below it. This is used as a metaphor for the “root of Heaven” that suddenly appears within a person in a state of extreme stillness—that is, the Dao-heart, the inner awakened mind of a practitioner of the Dao. Its image resembles a crescent moon.

A furnace is a vessel used to apply heat. The sunlike radiance of the Dao-heart can refine the Yin Qi throughout the body, and so it too is compared to a furnace. In truth, the Dao-heart is the heart of Heaven and Earth: considered in its essence, it is called the heart of Heaven and Earth; considered in its function, it is called the Dao-heart. These are two names for the same thing.

Those who do not understand take the area below the Dantian, where the transverse bone curves upward, to be the crescent-moon furnace. Some take the upward-curving stroke above the character for “heart” to be the crescent-moon furnace, mistakenly identifying the physical heart as such. Others who practice “bedchamber arts”—methods that use sexual intercourse between men and women as a means of cultivation—take a woman’s vaginal opening to be the crescent-moon furnace. All these interpretations are wrong.

The crescent-moon furnace is in fact the radiance emitted by the Dao-heart. Wherever its light shines, delusion and falsehood disperse. Through it, one can cultivate oneself into a sage or an immortal. Master Ziyang, the Daoist Neidan practitioner Zhang Boduan, said: “Do not cling to the alchemical stove; that is wasted effort. To refine the medicine, seek out the crescent-moon furnace.” He also said: “In the crescent-moon furnace, jade buds arise; in the cinnabar cauldron, mercury settles. When the fire’s timing is properly regulated, the planted yellow sprouts gradually grow, and long life is attained.” From this, the meaning of the crescent moon can be understood.

Cinnabar bears the color of fire. Fire can temper all things, transforming and renewing what is old; for this reason, people use the cauldron as its symbol. Fire is supremely subtle and wondrous: nothing lies beyond its power to transform. It is used as a metaphor for the divine spirit, which shines everywhere and accomplishes everything.

Yet there are two kinds of spirit: the original spirit and the discriminating spirit. The discriminating spirit can ruin the Dao, while the original spirit can bring the Dao to completion. Carrying the accumulated entanglements of sense and circumstance from past ages, the discriminating spirit borrows the original spirit’s clarity and awareness to give rise to delusive thoughts. It will not cease, even when it has exhausted one’s nature and life.

To cultivate the Dao, one must use the original spirit to restrain the discriminating spirit. When the discriminating spirit does not arise, deviant fire dies out; when deviant fire dies out, true fire arises. Once true fire has arisen, harmonious Qi spreads and circulates, and vitality continues without end. Only then may one hope to attain the Dao.

Foolish people do not understand this. They mistake the clear and lively discriminating spirit for the original spirit, and this is wrong. The original spirit is “spirit that is not spirit”: it may seem inactive, yet it is subtle, wondrous, and real; because it is real, it is supremely wondrous. The clear and lively discriminating spirit, by contrast, is “spirit that makes itself into spirit”: although perceptive, it carries delusion. This liveliness within delusion is the seed of the cycle of rebirth.

The immortals of antiquity said: “The root of birth and death throughout measureless kalpas—foolish people mistake it for their original self.” The “root of birth and death” spoken of here is the discriminating spirit.

The Gate of the Primordial Female—the source-gate where the Yin-Yang of Heaven and Earth unite and bring forth the myriad things.

“Origin” represents Yang, strength, and movement; “the Mysterious Female” represents Yin, softness, and stillness. The “Gate of the Origin and the Mysterious Female” is the pivotal opening where Yin and Yang meet, and where strength and softness unite, movement and stillness communicate. It has no fixed location, shape, or concrete form. At best, it can be described as something winding and indistinct, as though a hidden opening were suspended in emptiness. It lies beyond the reach of the Five Phases and outside the realm touched by the “Four Great Elements” of earth, water, fire, and wind. Utterly absent, it contains the utterly present; utterly empty, it contains the utterly substantial. It is the opening formed through the union of Yin and Yang.

Those who do not understand mistake the mouth and nose for the “Origin and Mysterious Female.” This is wrong. The mouth and nose are merely passages through which breath enters and leaves; they are not the gate where Yin and Yang unite. The scripture holds that only through the union of Yin and Yang can one become an immortal or a Buddha. How could the breath passing in and out through the mouth and nose bring about that transformation? The Wuzhen Pian says: “Few in the world know the Gate of the Origin and the Mysterious Female. Do not mistake the mouth and nose for it and practice in vain.” This is precisely the point.

“The single opening of the Origin Pass”—the pass through which original Qi circulates.

The Mysterious Pass, the pivotal point where the Dao’s subtle wonders become manifest, is also called the Gate of Life and Death, the Chamber of Creation and Destruction, the Boundary between Heaven and Humanity, the Gate of Punishment and Virtue, the Aperture of Being and Nonbeing, the Cavity of Spirit and Qi, the Ground of Emptiness and Substance, and the Crossroads. All these names describe the same pivotal point. The Mysterious Pass is also another name for the Primal Female, the gate through which the Dao generates and transforms Yin and Yang. Because Yin and Yang meet here, it is called the Gate of the Primal Female; because it is subtle and unfathomable, it is called the Mysterious Pass. In the end, all these names refer to the same place.

Those who do not understand sometimes identify the Mysterious Pass with the area below the heart and above the kidneys. Others place it at the navel, at the tailbone, or at the paired passes along the spine. All these claims are wrong. The Mysterious Pass has no fixed location; once it is assigned to a particular physical spot, it is no longer the Mysterious Pass. Chen Xubai held that it is where thoughts arise. This view may seem close, but it is still wrong. The place where thoughts arise already belongs to the formed things of the acquired realm. How could it be called the Mysterious Pass?

I will now explain it clearly: the Mysterious Pass is found amid a hazy, profound state, where being and nonbeing intermingle. The Wuzhen pian says: “Seek form within the hazy; search for the true essence within the profound and still. Being and nonbeing meet there of their own accord. If it has not yet appeared, how could you imagine its shape in advance?” The Four Hundred Words also says: “This pass is no ordinary pass; it is formed through the shared transformation of Heaven and Earth, Qian and Kun. It is called the Cavity of Spirit and Qi, and within it lies the essence of Kan and Li.” These passages are in fact all describing the Mysterious Pass.

The Valley Spirit.

“Spirit of the Valley” originally referred to a spirit dwelling in a mountain valley, popularly called the “cliff child.” Two mountains rise steeply on either side of a valley. When someone calls into it, the sound echoes back, and so it is called the “Spirit of the Valley.” In Daoist cultivation, this image is used to describe the spirit within the human body, which is empty, still, and numinous.

Only when the mind is empty can it be numinous; if the mind is not empty, it cannot be numinous. Numinous awareness emerges from emptiness and stillness, which is why it is also called the “Spirit of the Valley.” This “spirit” has no body or form, and its subtle workings are beyond measure. The saying “still and unmoving, yet responsive and thereby connected” (the mind is quiet and undisturbed, yet when it encounters a stimulus, it can respond and connect) describes this spirit. The phrase “coagulating the sacred embryo” (a term in cultivation for the gathering and fruition of inner Jing, Qi, and Shen) refers to it as well.

Those who do not understand the matter take the spirit to be stored in the “Heavenly Valley” (a Neidan term for a specific place within the body), or to be kept in the “Yellow Court” (a Daoist term for a region within the body used in cultivation), and call this the “Spirit of the Valley.” This is mistaken. If the spirit is fixed in the Heavenly Valley or kept in the Yellow Court, the mind is not empty and still. If the mind is not empty and still, how could the Spirit of the Valley arise? The Wuzhen Pian says: “To keep the Spirit of the Valley alive and undying, one must establish its foundation through the ‘Original Female’ (a Neidan term for the root of generation and transformation, where Yin and Yang unite). When true Jing returns to the Golden Chamber, a single point of numinous light will never again scatter.” When the Original Female unites, the mind settles into emptiness and stillness. In that stillness, the true spirit can remain ever-present and undimmed.

“True Jing,” “numinous light,” and “Spirit of the Valley” are all metaphors for the same true spirit.

Golden Cauldron and Jade Furnace

The Golden Tripod symbolizes firmness and strength. It is used as a metaphor for the practitioner’s single-minded aspiration and capacity to bear the meaning of the Great Dao, and is therefore also called the “Qian Tripod” (the tripod that symbolizes strength and vigor). The Jade Furnace symbolizes gentleness and stillness. It is a metaphor for cultivation that advances gradually and is sustained over time, and is therefore also called the “Kun Furnace” (the furnace that symbolizes yielding and receptivity).

Those who do not understand this imagine that casting an iron tripod, building a clay stove, and smelting metals and stones will enable them to concoct an elixir. This is mistaken. A tangible furnace and tripod can produce only tangible, ordinary medicines; they cannot produce an intangible elixir of immortality. The immortals of antiquity said, “The tripod is not really a tripod, and the furnace is not really a furnace.” The furnace and tripod referred to here mean that both firm and yielding methods must be employed in Daoist cultivation to achieve the goal. Just as a person smelting an elixir cannot succeed with a tripod but no furnace, or a furnace but no tripod, the medicine can be refined only when both furnace and tripod are present.

The medicines of the Crow and Hare

Within the sun is a golden crow, symbolizing Yin contained within Yang; within the moon is a jade rabbit, symbolizing Yang contained within Yin. The sun corresponds to the Li trigram of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams): Li is Yang on the outside and Yin within, illustrating that gentleness exists within strength. The moon corresponds to the Kan trigram: Kan is Yin on the outside and Yang within, illustrating that strength exists within gentleness.

The Golden Elixir practice draws on two true Yin-Yang medicines: gentleness within strength and strength within gentleness. These refer to the true Yin and true Yang within the body. When they merge into a single current of primordial Qi, they can form the Golden Elixir. They are called “medicines” because true Yin and true Yang are believed to restore youth and prolong life. The image of a tortoise entwined with a snake, and the saying that Water and Fire assist one another, express the same principle through different images: true Yin and true Yang becoming one.

Those who do not understand this mistakenly take the “crow and rabbit” to mean the sun and moon. Some try to draw in the sun and moon’s essence through the mouth; others try to draw it in through the eyes. This is wrong. The sun and moon in the sky are different from the sun and moon within the human body. The body’s own true Yin and true Yang are its crow, rabbit, sun, and moon. The essence of the celestial sun and moon is far from us; how could it be gathered? Even if one could gather something, it would only be harmful Qi from outside the body. Practicing this over a long period may cause abdominal swelling and blindness, bringing harm instead of benefit.

The Meeting of Dragon and Tiger

The dragon is gentle in nature and governs the generation and growth of all things. It belongs to Wood and corresponds to the Zhen trigram of the Bagua, serving as a metaphor for a person’s gentle nature. Zhen is classified as Yang, yet it represents gentleness because it contains more Yin than Yang.

The dragon is gentle and nurturing, bringing life to the myriad things. It belongs to Wood and corresponds to the Zhen trigram among the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), symbolizing a person’s gentle nature. Zhen is originally a yang trigram, yet it represents gentleness because it contains more yin lines than yang lines. The tiger is fierce and forceful, with the power to harm the myriad things. It belongs to Metal and corresponds to the Dui trigram, symbolizing a person’s forceful disposition. Dui is originally a yin trigram, yet it represents strength because it contains more yang lines than yin lines.

When gentleness and forceful disposition are cut off from one another and obstruct each other, they become subject to the constraints of temperament and worldly desires, damaging life. When they harmonize and unite, they become true nature and true feeling, nourishing life. The meeting of the dragon and tiger means seeking to unite nature with feeling, then returning feeling to nature; it expresses the union of nature and feeling.

Expressions such as “the girl of the eastern household” and “the young man of the western dwelling” becoming husband and wife, the union of the “eldest son” and the “youngest daughter,” and the joining of Metal and Wood all serve as metaphors for the meeting of true nature and true feeling.

Those who do not understand this take the liver to be the dragon and the lungs to be the tiger. They circulate the Qi of the liver and lungs at the navel, the heart, the Dantian (the practice site below the navel), or the Yellow Court (the body’s inner center in Daoist self-cultivation), believing this to be the copulation of dragon and tiger—their union and the harmonizing of Yin-Yang. This is mistaken. The Qi of the liver and lungs is formed after birth and is physical Qi. It cannot be gathered in one place; if forcibly brought together, over time it can lead to an incurable illness and hasten one’s death. Is this not foolish?

Kan and Li are reversed.

The Kan trigram (symbolizing water) has broken lines on the outside and a solid line within; the Li trigram (symbolizing fire) has solid lines on the outside and a broken line within. The inner solid line symbolizes water, and the inner broken line symbolizes fire. Neidan uses these trigrams to explain that one takes the solid line from within Kan to replenish the broken line within Li, using water to harmonize fire. This is called “water above, fire below,” “reversing water and fire,” or “reversing Kan and Li.”

Here, water means the Dao-heart’s clear, genuine awareness; fire means the human mind’s keen perception, which is easily led astray. True awareness appears calm and obscure on the outside, yet is clear within, like Kan, broken on the outside and solid within. Perceptive awareness appears bright on the outside, yet is clouded within, like Li, solid on the outside and broken within. True awareness constrains perceptive awareness, while perceptive awareness follows true awareness, so that the two unite and coalesce into an Elixir. This is like reversing Kan and Li so that water and fire assist one another. The images of the infant, the maiden, black lead, and red mercury all likewise describe the transformation of true awareness and perceptive awareness from separation to unity.

Those who fail to understand this claim that the kidneys correspond to Kan and the heart to Li. They believe that making Kidney Qi rise to meet Heart Qi, and making Heart Qi descend to join Kidney Qi, is what reversing Kan and Li means. Others practice what they call “bedchamber alchemy,” comparing men and women to the infant and the maiden and describing the man below the woman as reversing Kan and Li. Alchemists, meanwhile, use black lead to subdue mercury, or burn fire beneath a furnace and fill a cauldron above with water, calling these methods the reversal of Kan and Li and the mutual assistance of water and fire. All of this is mistaken. The foundation of cultivating the Real is cultivating the true Dao. All material things, deviant methods, and shameful acts are false and unreal; how could they possibly lead to the true Dao?

“Reversing the Five Phases” means reversing the relationships among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water).

When the Five Phases generate one another in their ordinary order, Wood generates Fire and Metal generates Water. When their generative order is reversed, Fire generates Wood and Water generates Metal. “Fire generates Wood” means that after Wood is tempered in a fierce fire and becomes charcoal, it can be buried underground and preserved for a long time. This serves as a metaphor for human nature, which, after being forged in the “Great Furnace of Creation”—the refining work of Heaven and Earth—becomes steadfast and imperishable. “Water generates Metal” means that scattered fragments of gold melt in a furnace and congeal into a single mass, making their luster more pronounced. This serves as a metaphor for a person’s true feelings, which, after passing through the sea of desire—the waves of desire—become pure and unstained.

The ancient immortals’ saying, “When the Five Phases proceed in their usual order, the Dharma Realm is a pit of fire; when the Five Phases are reversed, the earth becomes the Seven Treasures,” means that following the ordinary principles of the Five Phases makes the whole world like a pit of fire, while reversing them makes the earth as precious as treasure. It is mistaken to take moving Qi within the body, gathering and replenishing from above and below, or circulating it back and forth as a reversal of the Five Phases. Such people do not understand that the human body is entirely of Yin substance. The heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys within, and the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body without, are all merely forms that exist temporarily. Once the breath in the throat ceases, only a heap of decaying flesh and bones remains. Which of these is real and unchanging? How could one hope to cultivate one’s true nature and preserve one’s life by relying on this illusory body?

“Yellow Matron acting as matchmaker” refers to the Yellow Matron mediating and bringing about a union. The Yellow Matron is the Mother of Central Earth: that is, the intermediary symbolizing Earth at the center.

“Yellow Matron” originally referred to the Earth Mother at the center of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). Earth was given this name because it can harmonize Yin-Yang and bring the Four Images into accord. Alchemical writings use “Yellow Matron” as a metaphor for true intent and true faith within the human body, showing how they can harmonize one’s nature and temperament and nourish the spirit. True intent and true faith are one’s own “Yellow Matron”; this is also what is meant by “the central yellow principle pervading and connecting all things”—the inner principle of harmony that runs through the whole body.

Those who are ignorant of this take the phrase “Yellow Matron acts as matchmaker” to mean using deliberate thought to drive the Qi of the five organs and make it converge. Others, guilty of grave wrongdoing, have even used persuasive old women to entice men and women into sexual relations, taking the first menstrual blood of virgins and calling this “Yellow Matron acting as matchmaker.” All these interpretations are entirely mistaken.

True Earth has no fixed position, and true intent has neither form nor appearance. It enables all things to come into being and contains the principles underlying all affairs; it can bring together the “Three Families”—three elements that work in concert during cultivation—and gather the Five Phases, the five fundamental forces that constitute all things. That is why it is called “Yellow Matron acting as matchmaker.” How could “intent” here mean ordinary thought, let alone refer to a demonic old woman?

“Two eight liang strings” is generally a term in alchemical cultivation referring to Yin-Yang or the phases of the moon.

The Moon meets the Sun around the last day of each lunar month, when it is dark, and the first day, the new moon. By the third day, a faint light begins to show on the Moon’s face. On the eighth day, half of the Yang within Yin appears, and the Moon looks like a bowstring; this is called the “waxing quarter.” On the sixteenth day, the Moon is full. After that, a faint shadow begins to appear at its center. On the twenty-third day, half of the Yin within Yang appears, and the Moon again looks like a bowstring; this is called the “waning quarter.”

The waxing quarter symbolizes taking eight ounces of Metal from within Water, while the waning quarter symbolizes taking eight ounces of Water from within Metal. Together they make sixteen ounces, or one pound. In the theory of the Elixir Way (the framework for internal alchemy cultivation), Metal and Water are terms used to represent Yin and Yang. Their equal measure symbolizes the harmonizing of Yin and Yang and the mutual support of firmness and softness: neither side dominates, and their proper balance is preserved. Elixir texts use the Moon’s quarter phases to illustrate this equilibrium.

Those who do not understand this meaning sometimes take a man’s sixteenth year as “two eights,” believing the energies of the two quarters to be complete and forcibly sealing in his Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). Others take eight ounces of black lead and half a pound of mercury to be ingredients for refining and ingesting an elixir. Both interpretations are incorrect. The Four Hundred Characters says: “At the waxing quarter, Metal is eight ounces; at the waning quarter, Water is half a pound. When the essence of the two quarters is joined, the form of Qian and Kun is made complete.” Here, “the two quarters” refer to one Yin and one Yang: Qian symbolizes firm, vigorous Yang, and Kun symbolizes yielding, receptive Yin. When Yin and Yang are paired, Qian and Kun unite. This makes the meaning of “the two quarters” clear.

The “millet-seed pearl”—an image in the Elixir Way for something as tiny as a grain of millet—refers to the state in which Yin and Yang blend and unite while a person is still unborn, within the womb as an embryo. This is the union of Qian and Kun, in which the Elixir Origin, the fundamental Jing and Qi of internal alchemy cultivation, takes shape. This too helps clarify the meaning of “the two quarters.”

Before a person is born, while still in the mother’s womb, they exist in an undivided, murky state. Only a single, undifferentiated Qi circulates within them; there is nothing else. This is what is meant by “the Great One contains the true Qi” (the Great One refers to the primordial Qi, whole and undivided).

This Qi is wondrous beyond measure: empty yet numinous. Though it exists without form or image, it contains the real power of life. The Three Origins, the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), the Four Images, and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are all contained within it. Formless, yet capable of transformation, it naturally gives rise to the five viscera, six bowels, nine apertures, and all the bones and limbs. Because it is wondrous, empty, and numinous, it is also called “true numinosity” and “the spirit that is not a spirit”—not a spirit in the ordinary sense, but a primordial source with subtle, numinous effects.

In the mother’s womb, true Qi is concealed within the One Qi and is called “true Qi.” After birth, true numinosity is contained within the One Qi and is called “numinous Qi.” The One Qi is the underlying substance and is called “true emptiness”; when true numinosity acts, it is called “wondrous existence.” Though true Qi, true numinosity, true emptiness, and wondrous existence have different names, they all refer to the same real source.

This source has no form or image, sound or taste. It cannot be conveyed in words or depicted with brush and ink. The best one can do is say that it is as tiny as a grain of broomcorn millet, which is why the ancient immortals called it the “treasured pearl of millet.” “Millet” here does not mean that it literally has the shape of a grain; it refers to a point of numinous Qi hidden at the center. Because this point of numinous Qi is concealed within undifferentiated emptiness and contains the Three Realms, it is called the “millet pearl.” At its root, it is the primordial Qi from before Heaven and Earth were divided.

Some people misunderstand this teaching and claim that a blood clot from a woman’s first menstruation is the “millet pearl.” Others, while cultivating, fix their visualization on the Hall of Light—a location imagined inside the head—and after a long time their gaze radiates outward. They then mistake that light for the “millet pearl.” Neither is the true source described in the scripture. The millet pearl from before Heaven and Earth were divided is a numinous treasure capable of making a person a sage, worthy, immortal, or Buddha. How could it be compared with impure blood or light produced by visualization?

The Four Hundred Characters says: “Chaos contains emptiness, and emptiness contains the Three Realms. Seek its source, and it is no larger than a single grain of millet.” Zhang Sanfeng, too, said that the key to cultivation lies in that “single grain of millet” from before Heaven and Earth were divided. Many people have heard of it and can speak about it, yet have never truly understood or put it into practice.

Fire timing and trigram images

Alchemical classics often use the sixty-four hexagrams of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes) to illustrate how Yang Fire and Yin Talisman are applied. Qian and Kun represent the furnace and cauldron, drawing on their firm Yang and yielding Yin qualities as the foundation. Kan and Li represent the ingredients, drawing on their balanced interplay of firmness and yieldingness and their harmonious, centered effects. Fu and Gou mark the point where Yin and Yang meet, showing that firmness and yieldingness each have their proper time of application. Zhun and Meng represent the beginning of creation and transformation, showing that firmness should be used when advancing the fire, and yieldingness when withdrawing it. Ji Ji and Wei Ji represent the completion of creation and transformation, showing that the firmness of Yang Fire must not be excessive, and the yieldingness of Yin Talisman must not be insufficient. The other fifty-four hexagrams follow naturally from the principles embodied in these ten: Qian, Kun, Kan, Li, Fu, Gou, Zhun, Meng, Ji Ji, and Wei Ji.

In summary, the key is for Yin and Yang to harmonize with each other, unite as one, and ultimately return to an undifferentiated whole. Those who do not understand this force the sixty-four hexagrams onto the years, months, days, and hours, deliberately scheduling their cultivation by the hour. This is mistaken.

The changes of Yin and Yang between Heaven and Earth, and the transformation of the myriad things, all arise through the movement of a single Qi, cycling and renewing without end. Do they truly operate according to the sixty-four hexagrams? The sages created the sixty-four hexagrams by observing Heaven and Earth and discerning the transformations of Yin and Yang. The hexagrams are simply an account of those transformations. The transformations within the human body accord with those of Heaven and Earth, so they naturally embody the changes symbolized by the sixty-four hexagrams. How, then, can one be bound by the written words and cling to the hexagram images?

“The gate of my birth”: the gate that is the source of my coming into being.

When the moon moves into the southwest, its phase reaches the height of darkness and then begins to show light. In the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), the southwest belongs to Kun and represents pure Yin. Within pure Yin, the first Yang is concealed, just beginning to arise. This corresponds to the hexagram with Kun above and Zhen below, called “Fu” among the sixty-four hexagrams and “Crescent Moon” in descriptions of the lunar phases. These terms all serve as metaphors for a person suddenly revealing the Heavenly Heart in a state of profound stillness. This heart is also called the Dao Heart or the true heart of innate goodness. It is precisely the “Crescent Moon Furnace” mentioned earlier, a metaphor for cultivating Neidan (internal alchemy).

If one can perceive this heart and keep it from dissipating, one can thereby help Yang Qi grow and Yin Qi recede, with the focused attention of a cat waiting to catch a mouse. As Yang Qi gradually arises and Yin Qi gradually retreats, until Yin is exhausted and Yang is pure, one can become an immortal. For this reason, the southwest Kun position is called the “Gate of My Birth”: it refers to the passage through which the inner Heavenly Heart comes to life.

Some people misunderstand this and take the “Gate of My Birth” to mean a woman’s birth canal. This is incorrect. The birth canal is where ordinary people are born; how could it therefore give birth to an immortal?

The “Door of My Death” is the counterpart of the “Gate of My Birth”: it refers to the passage that causes people to sink into delusion and lose their true nature.

When the Moon moves into the northeast, Yang energy is about to be exhausted. In the Bagua, the northeast corresponds to Gen. Yin energy is growing stronger, while only a little Yang remains, forming the Hexagram of Stripping, with Gen above and Kun below, as described in the Book of Changes. At this phase, the Moon resembles an overturned bowl. These images all serve as metaphors for external Yin energy gradually eroding the original essence—the life energy one innately possesses.

If a courageous person who has risen beyond worldly concerns can suddenly awaken and turn back, using this last trace of Yang to pierce the darkness and begin cultivation, returning to the root and restoring the original essence will not be difficult. But if ordinary people remain deluded and follow the trend of Yin growing as Yang fades, until Yang is exhausted and Yin reigns alone, how could they avoid death? The Book of Changes says, “In the northeast, one loses one’s companions,” while alchemical writings call the northeast “the portal where I die.” Fools who do not understand this phrase mistakenly believe that a woman’s birth canal is “the portal where I die.” This is wrong.

The so-called “gate of life” and “door of death” are portals that cannot be seen or touched. Following Yin leads toward death; reversing Yin and supporting Yang leads toward life. That is why these are called the “gate of life” and the “door of death.” In fact, both names refer to the same crucial opening. The ancient immortals called it the “pass between life and death.” Though it is called a “pass,” it has no fixed location or shape; the name is only an approximate way of describing it. The Wuzhen Pian says: “One should turn the door of death into the gate of life, and not cling to calling the gate of life the door of death. Only by understanding how killing and creation transform, and how change cycles back and forth, will one know that blessings can emerge even from within calamity.” From this, the meaning of the “gate of life” and the “door of death” can be understood.

“Active practice” uses specific methods to observe the openings—the crucial points where Yin-Yang changes and the workings of creation take place. Through practice, one returns from the acquired state to the primordial state, harmonizes the Four Images, gathers the Five Phases, gathers the medicinal substances and advances the fire. The entire process is included, from refining the restored Elixir through forming the embryo. Without a true master’s oral instruction and personal transmission, even the slightest deviation in these practices can lead far astray.

Those who do not understand manipulate Qi and blood in the acquired body, thinking this is the Way of active practice. In fact, it is not. The cultivation of the Golden Elixir follows a complete sequence all the way to forming the embryo. The Way of the Golden Elixir belongs to primordial learning: it can reverse Yin and Yang, seize the workings of creation, turn the movement of Qi around, and overturn Heaven and Earth. How could a Way that accords with the primordial state, and cannot be defied even by Heaven, be cultivated merely by manipulating the acquired body’s visible and tangible substances?

Master Zhengyang said: “Mucus, saliva, bodily fluids, Jing, Qi, blood, and liquid—these seven numinous substances all belong to Yin. If you take them as the foundation for refining the Elixir, how could you ascend to pay court at Jade Capital, the celestial palace said to be home to immortals?” Master Ziyang also said: “Swallowing Jing and taking in Qi are common practices among ordinary people; only by obtaining the medicinal substance can one bring forth the workings of creation. Without the true seed in the cauldron, it is like boiling an empty pot with nothing but water and fire.” Here, “cauldron” is a metaphorical vessel used in alchemy, and the “true seed” refers to the genuine medicinal substance and foundation of cultivation.

Alas, metaphors such as the golden toad and the jade crow can be understood only by those who know their true meaning; only they count as adepts. How could the Way of active practice be easy to understand?

The subtle wonder of Wuwei.

The Dao of Wuwei (non-action) is the practice of observing subtle changes without the interference of desire. This is the stage after the sacred embryo has congealed: quietly observing the marvelous changes of the One Qi, the inner primordial energy. Once the sacred embryo has congealed, acquired Qi has returned to the precelestial state. One need only continue to nourish it through “bathing and gentle warming”: neither pursuing it deliberately nor letting it lapse through neglect, but allowing the natural true fire to warm it gradually so that change occurs of itself. The formless gradually takes shape; what had no substance gradually becomes solid—like fruit ripening and falling from the stem, or an infant coming forth. The intense firing used in the earlier refining must now cease.

Those who do not understand have yet to grasp what nature and life mean in Daoist cultivation, or what practicing the Dao entails. They learn a few minor arts from heterodox paths, then go into the mountains to sit quietly or withdraw into seclusion to concentrate their spirit, believing this to be Wuwei cultivation. In fact, it is not. Nature and life must be cultivated together, and the work has two stages: first, complete the work of life through Youwei, deliberate practice; then nourish the work of nature through Wuwei. Can nature and life really be cultivated merely by sitting in stillness and concentrating the spirit?

The Wuzhen pian says: “Until you have refined the Returning Elixir, do not enter the mountains; neither inside nor outside the mountains is lead. This supreme treasure is found in every household, yet fools fail to recognize it fully.” It also says: “At the beginning, when one acts with intention, no one can see it; when the stage of Wuwei arrives, everyone knows. People see only the exquisite subtlety of Wuwei—how could they know that Youwei is its foundation?” From this we can see that Youwei and Wuwei each have their own proper time and function, and are very different from one another.

Blending with the common world and concealing one’s radiance: living among ordinary people without showing one’s edge, while keeping one’s inner light guarded.

“Blending with the world and harmonizing with its light”—joining ordinary society while keeping one’s brilliance in check—is a way to “hide in plain sight,” cultivating the Dao while living amid the marketplace and court. To “blend with the world” means living among people without letting them see what makes you different. To “harmonize with its light” means engaging with the world without losing your true nature, living amid the dust of worldly life while keeping the heart free. When one can blend with the world and harmonize with its light, one is outwardly accommodating and able to handle worldly affairs, while inwardly holding to what is right and remaining one’s own master. Living according to the ways of the world while cultivating the Dao, one can move between advancing and withdrawing, appearing and concealing oneself, without obstruction. Cultivating the Dao then becomes easier.

Some people misunderstand this, thinking that “blending with the world and harmonizing with its light” means handling mundane affairs by day and sitting quietly in cultivation at night. This is wrong. Simply yielding to worldly customs may be called “following custom,” but it cannot be called “blending with the world.” Simply hiding one’s brilliance may be called “concealing the light,” but it cannot be called “harmonizing with the light.” The way of blending with the world and harmonizing with its light contains the ability to set the transformations of Heaven and Earth in motion and master the essential workings of Yin-Yang and the cycles of life and death. How could it be understood or practiced so easily?

“Returning the medicine to the earthen cauldron” refers to placing the medicine in the earthen cauldron during refining and cultivation. The term belongs to Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy); the cauldron symbolizes either the vessel used in cultivation or the central palace.

Earth is gentle and yielding, able to nurture all things; a pot is used to cook food and bring it to maturity. The name “earthen cauldron” comes from its capacity to nurture and bring things to completion. It does not refer to ordinary soil or an ordinary pot. Saying that “the medicine returns to the earthen cauldron” is a metaphor for the union of Yin and Yang and the gathering and nurturing of the sacred embryo—the inner basis of life that takes shape through cultivation.

The key to nurturing the sacred embryo is to keep the mind focused and undistracted, firmly holding to the Way of centrality so that Yin and Yang are harmonized without either one becoming dominant. Thus, in cultivation, the “earthen cauldron” also refers to this state of centrality and impartiality. Ultimately, everything depends on the word “center”: hold to the center, and Yin and Yang unite, the Qi of the Five Phases gathers, and the sacred embryo becomes whole. Lose the center, and Yin and Yang fall out of balance, the Qi of the Five Phases disperses, and the sacred embryo is damaged. So holding to the center is the essential method for nurturing the sacred embryo.

Those who do not understand this sometimes dig an earth furnace to refine cinnabar, then extract mercury from it, mistaking the earth furnace for the earthen cauldron. Others build a furnace out of clay and make an ash pit, where they refine lead and separate silver, mistaking the ash pit for the earthen cauldron. Both interpretations are mistaken.

Ziye said, “True Earth has no fixed location, and true intention has no form. The so-called earthen cauldron of the center is formless and imageless, with no fixed direction or place. It is called a ‘cauldron’ because it brings the sacred embryo to completion. How could it mean a pot made of clay?”

“To bring the sacred embryo to condensation” means to make it gather and take shape. The sacred embryo is the embryo of the sage. Ziye also said that true Earth has no fixed location and true intention has no form; the earthen cauldron of the center is formless and imageless, present everywhere. It is called a “cauldron” because it brings the sacred embryo to completion, not because it is a pot made of clay.

The “sacred embryo” is the embryo of a sage. It refers to a state of untroubled simplicity and innate authenticity, like that of an infant. When cultivation of the Dao reaches this state of unknowing and unawareness, the hundred spirits naturally gather and all manner of distracting thoughts subside. The whole person becomes calm and undifferentiated, entering a profound, indistinct state and moving from cultivation through deliberate action to Wuwei (non-action).

Some people misunderstand this and think that forming the sacred embryo means joining the heart’s fluid with Kidney Qi at the Yellow Court, an inner site of cultivation; keeping the attention on the Central Palace, an inner place at the body’s center; or guiding the breath up and down along the front and back of the body and holding it in the Dantian, an inner site of cultivation. These interpretations are all mistaken. The sacred embryo has no shape or substance. Though it is called an “embryo,” there is no visible embryo. The word “embryo” merely describes the true spirit gathering and no longer dispersing. If one forcibly gathers Qi and blood into an embryo, this is only a “ghost embryo” that damages life, not a sacred embryo that enables longevity.

The Embryo Matures in Ten Months

“The embryo matures in ten months” means that spirit and Qi are abundant, inner and outer entanglements have faded, and disordered Qi has been transformed away, bringing one to a state in which Yin is exhausted and Yang is pure. The phrase borrows the image of a woman carrying a child to term in ten months: after the sacred embryo has formed, it must still be carefully protected, bathed, and gently nourished until cultivation is complete and flawless.

“Ten months” is not a fixed period of cultivation. Some mistakenly think that after the embryo forms, one must spend ten months using breath circulation, visualization, or concentration of spirit to bring it to maturity. This is incorrect. The long work of cultivating the Dao—from gathering the ingredients, refining them, forming the Elixir, and forming the embryo, through attaining the Dao and undergoing transformation through leaving the embryo—cannot be confined to ten months. “Ten months” is therefore only a metaphor.

The “appearance of the infant” refers to the transformation and emergence of the sacred embryo. The “sacred embryo” is a Dharma Body—a spiritual body formed through cultivation—nurtured within the physical body, the body with form. “Transformation and emergence” means that the Dharma Body comes forth from the physical body. Since this is like an ordinary person carrying a child for ten months before giving birth, the Dharma Body is called the “infant.”

The infant’s appearance means that “a body exists beyond the body.” It transcends the Three Realms—the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Realm of Formlessness—is not constrained by the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), escapes the cycle of rebirth, and lives as long as Heaven and Earth, with the same lifespan as the sun and moon.

Those who do not understand this may mistake the true Yang within Kan, the Qi symbolized by the Kan trigram, for the infant of the Dharma Body. Others may mistake the Jing and Qi in the kidneys for it. Both are wrong. The infant within Kan is Yang within Yin; the infant of the Dharma Body is a real being brought forth through the blending of Yin and Yang. As for kidney Qi, it is merely pernicious fire within the kidneys and has nothing to do with an infant. How could these be confused?

The Wuzhen Pian says, “The infant is a vessel containing true Qi; when the ten-month gestation is complete, one enters the foundation of sagehood.” The Four Hundred Words says, “When husband and wife unite, clouds and rain fill the bridal chamber; in a year, a child is born, and each one can ride a crane.” From these lines, one can understand what is meant by the infant of the Dharma Body.

Moving the Furnace and Changing the Cauldron

When cultivation of the Great Dao is complete, the Dharma Body has emerged beyond the physical body, and both body and spirit have reached a wondrous state. One has attained the rank of a great sage. At this point, the furnace and cauldron—terms in alchemy that serve as metaphors for the conditions of cultivation or parts of the body and mind—are no longer needed, much less moved or replaced.

Moving the Furnace and Changing the Cauldron

When cultivation of the Dao reaches great perfection, one can transcend the limitations of the physical body and possess a Dharma Body—the true body formed from Shen and Qi, beyond physical form. Both body and spirit then attain a wondrous state. This is the realm of a great sage: no furnace or cauldron is needed, and there is no question of moving or replacing one. What is called moving or replacing the furnace and cauldron means concealing the Dharma Body in a subtle, hidden place and nurturing it there, so that it continues to transform and manifest spiritual powers.

What furnace and cauldron are to be moved? Take the vast, empty expanse of the Great Void as the cauldron, and Wuwei (non-action) as the furnace. The alchemical vessels and substances mentioned earlier—the Qian cauldron and Kun furnace, the cinnabar cauldron, the crescent-moon furnace, and the like—are no longer used. The only thing used at this point is the Dharma Body. Within the Void, it transforms of itself: the emptier it becomes, the more wondrously it manifests; the more it is reduced to nothing, the more subtle and refined it becomes. Its spiritual wonders cannot be fathomed, and its transformations have no end. This is what is meant by “son begetting grandson, grandson branching into further generations”: a succession of transformations, each giving rise to more. At this stage of cultivation, one must still bring the practice to a halt, shatter the Void, and leap into Daluo, the highest celestial realm in Daoism. Only then is the work truly complete.

Later practitioners who have not received the true transmission may think that possessing “a body beyond the body” is the final goal of Daoist cultivation. This view is mistaken. The Song of Knocking the Yao says: “When there is not a single thing, the Dao appears in turn; through the five directions shines forth the true person’s countenance. Immortal boys and girls welcome you amid colored clouds; within the Five Radiances Palace, the true edicts are transmitted.” From this we can see that the Dharma Body’s ability to transform in a thousand ways is the fullest expression of cultivation.

Poems for Dispelling Doubts: Fifty Seven-Character Quatrains

Leaving the World

All manner of things in the world are unreal; worldly ties and bonds of affection are especially apt to harm body and mind. Only by cutting off attachments as if with a single stroke, and no longer being bound by them, can one become free in the realm of liberation.

Cultivating Sleep

Sleeping little is no way to cultivate or overcome sleepiness. Forgetting to eat and going without sleep merely sever the entanglements of worry. Once all attachments have been swept away and the heart is still, what is there to fear in sleeping peacefully, day and night?

Merit and Practice

Cultivation begins with accumulating De. Only great merit and deep Virtue can move Heaven. It is laughable that some foolish people think only of themselves: their merit is meager and their good deeds too few, yet they presume they can become immortals.

Golden Elixir

One’s original nature from before birth is called the “Elixir.” It must be refined into a perfect whole within the Bagua furnace, which symbolizes the vessel of inner cultivation. People deluded by the world seek elixirs outside themselves, imagining that swallowing them will let them rise into the clouds.

The Primordial Pass

Few people know of this aperture, where the original Qi from before birth enters, leaves, and manifests. It lies in a dim, elusive realm too deep to grasp through thought. There, cultivators must realize the Way to becoming an immortal.

The Golden Elixir

One’s original nature from before birth is called the “Elixir.” It must be refined into a perfect whole within the Bagua furnace. People deluded by the world seek elixirs outside themselves, imagining that swallowing them will let them rise into the clouds.

The Primordial Pass

Few people know of this aperture. It is deep and elusive, containing Yin and Yang, the two fundamental forces known as the Two Principles. Following the flow of acquired habits leads toward a path of affliction; turning back and returning to one’s original nature from before birth lays the foundation for becoming a sage.

The Conscious Spirit

The nimble, thinking consciousness is called the conscious spirit. It carries the seeds that draw people into the cycle of rebirth and is pulled along by the dusty scenes of the external world. The deluded take this wandering, unsettled consciousness as the basis for cultivation. In the end, who among them will see the true nature that holds command?

Yang Essence

A single point of Yang Essence, the original Yang energy from before birth, is hidden deep within the body. Truly recognizing it can delay aging. It is neither in the heart nor in the kidneys; it belongs neither to emptiness nor to visible form. It is concealed within the Primordial Pass.

Original Qi from Before Birth

The One Qi from before birth—the undifferentiated original energy at the beginning of the cosmos—exists within primordial chaos. It has no form, yet does not fall into emptiness. Only by recognizing the true aspect of life at its beginning can one understand that one possesses a nature that truly holds command.

Before Birth and After Birth

The fundamental state in which a person exists before birth is called “before birth”; upon being born, one becomes linked to the temperament acquired afterward. The sages of earlier generations and the cultivators of later times followed two different paths. We must therefore carefully distinguish what is deficient and what is complete in the before-birth and after-birth states.

The First Scripture

The First Scripture refers here to the most fundamental original Jing and Qi from before birth. It is an original treasure, deep and elusive, a pure and unified essence. It is spotless and immaculate; do not mistake turbid blood acquired after birth for its name or nature.

The Three Medicines

The great medicines are three: Jing, Qi, and Shen. What has visible form is not their original, true state. They are exceedingly refined and numinous; once refined, they can bring forth an indestructible Dharma Body, the pure body formed through cultivation.

Nature and Life

Nature and life originally belong, respectively, to the before-birth and after-birth states. After a person is born, nature and life each reveal their own degree of deficiency or completeness. Nature and life acquired after birth follow the changes of Heaven’s course. Only by grasping the original foundation from before birth can one take charge of cultivation oneself.

The Heart of Heaven and Earth

Heaven is the indestructible Great Dharma Body.

Nature and Life

Nature and life originally belong, respectively, to the before-birth and after-birth states. After a person is born, nature and life each reveal their own degree of deficiency or completeness. Nature and life acquired after birth follow the changes of Heaven’s course. Only by grasping the original foundation from before birth can one take charge of cultivation oneself.

The Heart of Heaven and Earth

Where is the heart of Heaven and Earth concealed? When Yin and Yang interact, it manifests as perfect radiance. Refine and nurture it to maturity within the cauldron of emptiness, which symbolizes the vessel of inner cultivation, and it will endure for all ages without harm.

The Dao Mind and the Human Mind

The human heart is like iron, while the Dao heart is like gold. The subtle difference between them requires careful observation and repeated weighing. The Dao changes freely and flows without obstruction, with no distinction between above and below. Its source is like living water, transcending the division of Yin and Yang.

Before Birth

Who can know what a person was like before being born? At that time there was silence, and all was in a state of chaos. The Four Symbols and the Five Phases had not yet appeared; there was only a single, undivided mass of Qi, with no distinction between male and female.

At Birth

What is a person like at the moment of birth? At that time, pre-heavenly and post-heavenly Qi come together. There is no discriminating awareness and no taint from the outside world. This is the foundation for becoming a Buddha, an immortal, or a sage.

The Other Household

The “other household” mentioned here does not mean someone else’s home. To mistake it for an external household is a grave error. My true nature is like a child lost outside; at a single call, it will return, like a child seeing its father.

The Other and the Self

The scripture’s terms “the other” and “the self” distinguish Yin and Yang. They point to a pure state that clings neither to forms and appearances nor falls into emptiness. Those who interpret this as men and women exchanging essence through sexual techniques to refine the elixir practice sorcery and corrupt their consciences.

Companions

Companions must be distinguished as internal or external. Within the body are two or three kinds of “companions.” External companions assist in cultivation, helping a person escape the cycle of rebirth and wash away the dust accumulated over many lifetimes. “Companions” here is a term of cultivation and should not be understood as partners for sexual techniques that exchange essence.

External Protection

Everyone seeks protection from outside, hoping it will bring success. Some, however, take the furnace and the lead and mercury to be physical objects and refine them recklessly, like someone trying in vain to catch the wind. They fail to understand that the celestial secret points to a method that transcends worldly ways: with the aid of great external power, it subdues a mind clouded by ignorance and confusion.

The Nine Cauldrons

The number of the Qian Origin is nine, and it is called pure Yang. “Returning the Elixir in the Nine Cauldrons” is a term for the process of cultivation and refinement. Deluded disciples who commit misdeeds instead speculate that it refers to a woman’s body and the so-called “female cauldron.” In doing so, they are sure to fall into a life of transgression.

Drawing In

There is a secret method for drawing in pre-heavenly Qi: playing the qin and striking bamboo can establish communion with the Void Sovereign, a deity revered in Daoism. Even amid the clamor of sounds and sights, cultivation need not be impeded. At any moment, one can gather the mind and spirit back in, bringing them onto the right path like the light of the Northern Dipper.

Reversal

There is nothing difficult about reversing the movement of Yin and Yang. The key is to use the mind and spirit to observe within stillness. When the Dao heart is unobscured, the selfish desires of the human heart recede, and one immediately ascends to a higher stage of cultivation.

The Firing Process

The firing process—the regulation of heat and the timing of progress in Neidan cultivation—has no fixed schedule. One should remain alert and cautious day and night, cutting away the Three Corpses, the spirits said in Daoism to hinder cultivation from within the body. Stay watchful for danger and maintain clarity; use the mind and spirit to observe within stillness. When the Dao heart is unobscured, the selfish desires of the human heart recede, and one immediately ascends to a higher stage of cultivation.

The practice of directing the fire (regulating the timing and intensity of internal cultivation) is not bound by fixed hours. One should remain alert and careful at all times, cutting away the Three Corpses—the inner desires and distracting thoughts that, in Daoist teaching, hinder cultivation. Constantly guard against danger and preserve stillness. When facing external things, do not lose your focus or let gain and loss disturb you.

Hexagram Images

The principles of the firing process can be explained with the hexagram images of the Classic of Changes (Yijing). But merely working out the positions of the lines and clinging to numerical and symbolic interpretations is not true cultivation. What matters is understanding how Yin-Yang changes, advancing and withdrawing in accord with the moment, and directing the process freely.

The Qian and Kun Cauldron and Furnace

The Qian cauldron and Kun furnace—images of a vessel that represents Yin-Yang—are within oneself; there is no need to seek their source outside. The forces of hardness and softness are not divided. Through harmonizing and refining them, one can forge the primordial One Qi, the original vital energy.

The Crescent Furnace

What is the crescent furnace, the vessel that symbolizes inner Yin-Yang transformation? It is a place where brightness is contained in darkness, and renewal stirs amid obscurity. This is the foundation for refining the Returning Elixir, or internal alchemy. The scripture makes its meaning clear; one can only wonder whether people in the world will awaken to it.

The Cinnabar Cauldron

Cultivating the Dao relies on the cinnabar cauldron, a vessel that symbolizes the refinement of internal alchemy. It is made neither of iron nor of gold or silver. Only by recognizing that point of spiritual clarity can one cast off the old, renew oneself, and reveal one’s innate humaneness.

The Earthen Crucible

The earthen crucible, an inner vessel that symbolizes the center of the body and the harmonizing of Yin and Yang, is not made of clay. “Earth” refers to the central position. The forces of Wood, Metal, Water, and Fire converge there to warm and nourish the internal alchemy. Only by recognizing that point of spiritual clarity can one cast off the old, renew oneself, and reveal one’s innate humaneness.

The earthen crucible is not made of clay. “Earth” refers to the central position. The forces of Wood, Metal, Water, and Fire converge there, nurturing a primordial pearl that shines through the night, a symbol of internal alchemy.

The Dipper’s Handle

By observing the Dipper’s handle—the part of the Big Dipper that indicates direction and symbolizes the pivot of cyclical movement—as it turns through its course, one comes to understand where life’s generative force resides. Turning back to the root and overturning old ways of understanding allows the “golden lotus,” a symbol of the clarity attained through cultivation, to appear in the refining process.

The Two Strings

The lower string belongs to Water, and the upper string to Metal. This simply describes the harmonizing of Yin and Yang. When hardness and softness truly unite, the mind of nirvana—a clear, unmoving mind beyond birth and death—will appear between them.

Ren and Gui

Ren Water belongs to Yang, and Gui Water to Yin. How many practitioners investigate this closely? The key is to distinguish what is genuine from what is false when the pivot begins to move, removing the turbid and retaining the pure in order to refine “white metal,” a symbol of pure internal alchemy.

Refining the Self

Cultivation begins with refining the self: tempering one’s nature and disciplining oneself. One must cut off desires, loosen emotional attachments, and set aside every concern. Cut away the Six Thieves—the six sensory desires that scatter the mind and spirit—and the Three Peng, the Three Corpses, so that the Dantian (energy center) is pure and unstained.

Laying the Foundation

One’s resolve must be firm and steady. Remove the turbid and retain the pure, refining “white metal.”

Refining the Self

Cultivation begins with refining the self: tempering one’s nature and disciplining oneself. One must cut off desires, loosen emotional attachments, and set aside every concern. Cut away the Six Thieves and the Three Peng, so that the Dantian is pure and unstained.

Firm resolve is the foundation of cultivation. It is rare to find a mind and body so settled that external things cannot unsettle them. With such composure, even in the face of calamity and disaster, one can remain like still water, untouched by ripples, and let the turmoil of the myriad things pass by.

Lead and Mercury

True Mercury is not the quicksilver of the world, and true Lead is not the metal mined from the mountains. One’s feelings and one’s nature are the innate medicines. When refinement brings them back to their root, the “Great Return” is complete—the Neidan process of returning to the original and recovering the true nature.

Infant and Maiden

The Maiden is hidden within the Li trigram, which symbolizes Fire, but she is not real in herself. The Infant lies within the Kan trigram, which symbolizes Water, yet is difficult to grasp. Here the secret of Yin-Yang union is revealed: through both fullness and empty stillness, the Dharma Body—the spiritual body realized through cultivation—comes into being.

Kan and Li

Do not seek the principle of Kan and Li only in the north and south. Fire rises, while Water flows downward. If these two forces can be made to move in reverse, so that Water rises and Fire descends, they will condense into the foundation of the Elixir.

Zhen and Dui

The Dui trigram is not only in the west, nor is the Zhen trigram only in the east. When nature and feelings are confused, the flow of Qi cannot be brought into harmony. Understand how to return feelings to nature through cultivation, and you will soon encounter your “master”—your inner nature, the true spirit that governs body and mind.

Zi and Wu

Do not look for Zi and Wu only in the hours of night and day. Within the body there is another compass to guide your direction. Yin and Yang are always shifting between activity and stillness. When you settle into stillness, you can often hear the sound of high antiquity—a metaphor for the inner experience of quietude.

Mao and You

In Neidan cultivation, bathing—harmonizing and nourishing the Qi of Yin and Yang—is often represented by Mao and You. These refer to a state in which the two breaths are in harmony, without imbalance. Those who do not understand the meeting of Yin and Yang mistake Mao and You for two periods of seated meditation each day, one in the morning and one in the evening.

The Yellow Matron

For the female and male forces to join, the Yellow Matron must bring them into harmony. When the heavenly stems Wu and Ji, associated with Earth, unite, they form the pivot of creation and transformation. Asked for the Yellow Matron’s true secret, the answer is to let utmost sincerity move and unite the Qi of the Five Phases.

Returning the Elixir

Why is the cultivated Elixir called the “Returning Elixir”? When the Five Qi are dispersed, each stands alone. Once the good Dao is understood and one returns to the beginning, they gather again. Body and mind settle, and all condenses into one.

The Elixir Matures

When the Elixir has ripened through cultivation, a further method follows of itself; there is no need to deliberately increase or decrease it, or to help Yang Qi grow. The spirit-fire will naturally refine and nourish it in the furnace, until at last a single light shines through Heaven and Earth.

The Sacred Embryo

The Sacred Embryo is not a physical fetus. It is a state in which Qi gathers and Shen coheres, nurturing the true seed. Cultivation requires careful vigilance and constant attention to danger; carelessness may bring disaster.

Emergence from the Embryo

Only when the Sacred Embryo emerges is realization complete. After ten months of nurturing and refining the Grain Spirit—the inner spirit and Qi—Yang Qi becomes pure and harmonious, and Yin Qi is exhausted. It is then as if an immortal leaps forth from the void.

Can deliberate practice, carried out through contrived cultivation, be anything more than manipulating the body? Such artificial efforts are all too easily damaged. How can we know that the truly wondrous secret lies in heart-to-heart transmission, so profound that even ghosts and spirits cannot fathom it, and that it can even reverse Yin and Yang?

Wuwei

Wuwei (non-action) does not mean sinking into empty nothingness and doing nothing at all. One must also remain mindful of cultivation without deliberately forcing it. When the roots of samsara and death are pulled out, the pure and authentic Shen (spirit) appears within.

Return and Encounter

When Yin Qi reaches its extreme, Yang Qi is reborn; at this point, one must advance the fire, a Neidan (internal alchemy) term for using intention to propel Yang Qi. Once Yang Qi is fully abundant, one shifts into Encounter, when Yin Qi first arises, and applies the Yin Talisman, a method of internal cultivation opposite to advancing the fire. When the Yin Talisman and Yang Fire are applied with just the right balance, the primordial Taiji diagram can be refined.

Cultivation through Force and Stillness

Subduing inner demons with vigorous force is martial refinement; nurturing Qi in emptiness and stillness is civil cooking. To discern good fortune and misfortune and adapt as circumstances arise is like finding gold scattered across the land, brilliant and dazzling.

Harmonizing the Light

Harmonizing the light—restraining one’s radiance and moving among ordinary people—and blending into the world is the key to preserving the secrets of Heaven. This wondrous function is exceedingly rare. One should respond constantly to affairs while keeping the mind clear, remain at ease throughout, and be ready at any moment to shed the old clothes and put on new ones.

An Account of the True Aperture of the Primordial Female

Those who study cultivation and seek to cultivate the Great Dao and fully awaken to nature and life must first recognize the “Gate of the Primordial Female.” This Gate is the single aperture of the Primordial Pass. The scripture describes it as a gate with two doors, one opening and one closing. A numinous guardian stands outside, while a dragon and a tiger guard within. Inside is a spacious hall with passages in every direction, where dwells a perfected person—the perfected person who symbolizes the state attained through cultivation. With hair unbound and feet bare, he wears robes of five colors and a yellow-green sash. He holds a golden, radiant ruyi scepter and sits at ease on a natural couch. Behind him is a wall without shadow; before him hangs a crystal lamp. He gathers in his senses and lowers the curtain, remaining still and quiet. He rarely opens his eyes or speaks. To his left and right stand attendants: a golden boy and a jade maiden.

At times the perfected person opens his eyes, and light fills Heaven and Earth, illuminating even the darkest places. At times he speaks, and his breath fills the cosmos, driving ghosts, monsters, and evil spirits far away. He holds the keys to transformation, Yin-Yang, life and death, and nature and life. Whoever is able to see him should bow in sincere reverence and serve him morning and evening, never leaving him even for a moment. The perfected person possesses wine that prolongs life and pills of longevity; those who taste them can shed their mortal form, transform their bones, and pass from death into life.

Yet in this world, few are truly resolute and willing to endure hardship. Many cannot persist over time and refuse to investigate the root principles to their depths. Instead, they search for the Primordial Pass and speak of the Primordial Female only in tangible places in the body. They pursue petty techniques attached to emptiness and outward appearances, deluding themselves that these will lead to the Dao. This is truly lamentable. A true hero must decisively let go of fixation, empty the mind of all entanglements, and devote their effort to the great matter at hand. They should seek out a true teacher, befriend those who share their purpose, and hold fast to a resolve that will not change until death. In this way, they will ultimately come to know the Primordial Pass, see the Primordial Female, and fully awaken to nature and life. Those who study cultivation should strive diligently.

True cultivation of the Dao (the Way) rests on following nature and acting through Wuwei (non-action). Yet without reaching the corresponding level of practice, one cannot grasp its principles. Amid the tangled paths of a three-way crossroads, one must find the true seed; in the Eight Trigrams furnace (Bagua, a symbol of the process of refining body and mind), one must temper one’s nature.

This bottomless, invisible vessel of the Dao can ferry people across the sea of suffering. The “medicinal ingredients” one carries within—that is, the essential conditions for cultivation—can help prolong life. Virtue is concealed even in punishment, though ordinary people find it hard to see; blessings can also arise from calamity. Therefore, during cultivation, the mind must remain steadfast and single.

Harmonize the Four Symbols (the elements of body and mind that must be regulated in cultivation), and they will return to their original state. Gather the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water, and their interactions), and a golden lotus will grow, symbolizing the attainment of cultivation. Only by understanding what to augment and what to diminish does one master the subtle method; only by discerning good fortune and misfortune does one begin to enter the mysterious realm.

Cast off all attachments and worldly defilements, and one can return to the innate state that existed before one’s parents gave birth to one. The paths to becoming an immortal and attaining Buddhahood both arise from this Dao. The two other claims are empty, abstruse talk that departs from the true path.