《通关文》Vol. 3

All things continually grow and develop through the Dao’s creative transformation. The sun and moon seem to do nothing, yet the seasons run their course naturally; the sage seems to do nothing, yet the world is governed well as a result. This shows that Wuwei (non-action) still has real effects. It is no empty talk about doing nothing at all. If one takes emptiness and complete inactivity to be the Dao, the Dao becomes a lifeless thing, without vitality. It would not be the Dao embodied by Heaven and Earth, the sun and moon, and the sage, but something as useless as a wooden carving or clay figure. How could that be called the Dao?

The original meaning of “Dao” is “road.” A road becomes passable because people walk on it; if no one travels it, it cannot truly be called a road. From this we can see that in cultivating the learning of nature and life—the study of the mind and human existence—one must first seek understanding and then make a sustained effort to put it into practice. Understanding guides practice, and practice in turn completes understanding. To cultivate the Real is to practice. If one merely pursues emptiness and stillness, how can that be called practice? “Maintaining emptiness” might be an apt description, but calling it cultivation is not. The ancients mocked those who ground a brick in hopes of making a mirror, and those who piled up snow as if it were food. Both stories satirize methods that are fanciful and impractical.

Some misguided people in the world who study the Dao do not investigate its foundations and lineage, nor do they distinguish sound principles from mistaken ones. Some become dispirited, suppress their thoughts, and forget both external things and their bodies. Some sit still as though keeping watch in an empty valley, seeking to be untouched by even a speck of dust. Some focus exclusively on one bodily aperture, hoping to nourish Qi and preserve Shen. Some fix their gaze on the crown of the head to keep the mind from wandering. Some stare into a mirror, hoping to project their spirit outward. Others direct their thoughts to the Hall of Illumination (Mingtang), a site within the head used for visualization, and imagine a red pearl there. All these methods cling to emptiness and move toward annihilation. They are not true cultivation of the Dao; they are misunderstandings of it. How could they enable one to return to the beginning and the root, understand nature and life, bring body and spirit to a wondrous state, unite with the Dao in truth, and transcend the constraints of Yin-Yang transformation?

Since birth, people have received Qi shaped by the uneven influences of acquired Yin-Yang and the Five Phases. They also carry the accumulated defilements and habits of the cycles of existence extending back to beginningless time. Without a great method capable of dispelling this turbid Yin, and without the means to turn one’s own course of transformation around, how can cultivation be completed through empty inactivity alone? How can Yin be transformed into Yang, and the bitter causes accumulated over many lifetimes be uprooted?

So I urge those who sincerely study the Dao to break through their attachment to “emptiness” without delay, seek out an enlightened teacher as soon as possible, and look for practical methods of cultivation that can bring life back from the brink of death. They should begin their work early. Do not chase shadows or quench your thirst by gazing at plums, lest you delay your progress on the path and waste your days. Otherwise, if all you do is talk of empty inactivity, taking up nothing and doing nothing, what real results can you expect? It is difficult to attain the Dao by such wishful thinking.

The Diamond Sutra says, “The Tathāgata cannot be seen by means of the thirty-two physical marks.” The Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment says, “The body I have now is a temporary gathering of the Four Great Elements: earth, water, fire, and wind.” The Wuzhen Pian says, “The essence contained within Yin is not firm. Cultivating just one thing on its own will only make a person weaker. Strenuous exercise of the body and pursuit of outward forms and shadows are not the Dao. Breath cultivation and ‘dining on rosy clouds’—absorbing what is called the vital energy of clouds and sunset—are also delusions.”

The postface to the Wuzhen Pian adds: “Today’s students of the Dao take lead and mercury to be two kinds of Qi, call the organs the Five Phases, divide the heart and kidneys into Kan and Li, compare the liver and lungs to the Dragon and Tiger, describe Shen and Qi as mother and child, and treat bodily fluids as lead and mercury. They do not understand the principles of rising and sinking; how, then, can they distinguish what is primary from what is secondary? It is like taking someone else’s property for your own and calling someone else’s son your own child.” An ancient immortal said, “Do not cling to this body and think it is the Dao. Beyond this body, there is a true body.” These words all mean that the fleshly body should not be mistaken for the Dao.

The Great Dao of cultivating the true—the Dao of the precelestial—is able to bring forth form from the formless and real images from the imageless. It can seize the workings of creation, wield Yin-Yang, turn the movement of Qi, and transcend life and death. It is entirely unlike every practice that works only on the fleshly body. The body is a temporary gathering of the Four Great Elements. Outside are the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and mouth; inside are the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys, along with the joints and bodily openings. All are temporary forms, and not one is real and unchanging. When life ends, only a heap of decayed bones and rotting flesh remains. If you cling to this body in your cultivation, how can you understand nature and life or escape birth and death?

Thus Laozi said, “The reason I have great trouble is that I have a body. When I no longer have a body, what trouble could I have?” We can see from this that the fleshly body is one of life’s great troubles. For this reason, the ancestral masters left the Great Way of the Golden Elixir, teaching people to cultivate nature and life, cast off the false and preserve the true, and free themselves from this great illusion. Once this trouble is shed, an existence free of trouble will naturally emerge. This trouble-free existence is the true body, also called the Dharma Body or Yang Spirit. It is said that once this body has been cultivated, it does not sink in water or burn in fire, and can pass unobstructed through metal and stone. Yin-Yang cannot bring it into being, and the workings of creation cannot bind it. It can endure as long as Heaven and Earth and shine as brightly as the sun and moon. How could those who cultivate only the fleshly body attain such a state?

Some confused students of the Dao cannot distinguish truth from falsehood or right from wrong. They imitate blindly and act recklessly, like people walking at night or acting in a dream. Some shake their bones and manipulate their sinews and marrow; some push forward and drive backward; some take from the east to make up for the west. Some circulate Qi to strike the crown of the head and force essence upward into the brain. Some practice the Eight Brocades to exercise their bones and sinews, or the Six Healing Sounds to raise their Qi. Some call the space between the kidneys the Primordial Pass, the area in front of the kidneys and behind the navel the Yellow Court, the mouth and nose the Mysterious Female, the Dantian the root of life, and the Celestial Valley the ground of nature. Some call the heart and kidneys the Infant and the Maiden, and the liver and lungs the Azure Dragon and White Tiger. Others draw breath through the navel wheel and send it to the Dantian, calling this embryonic breathing, or circulate Qi through the Three Passes to the back of the brain, calling this opening the pass. There are also countless other practices: rubbing the eyes, swallowing saliva, drawing in clear Qi and expelling turbid Qi, massaging the navel, and tightening the anus. All these are called clinging to outward forms. They work on the body wrapped in skin and flesh, and lie far from the precelestial Dao of nature and life. When their allotted years end, they will take nothing with them. How pitiful!

I urge those who sincerely study the Dao to pass through the barrier of attachment to forms as soon as possible, and to investigate in earnest what “nature and life” really are. What is nature? What is life? Where does nature reside, and where is life lodged? If you can discern nature and life clearly, you will know that they are not in the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, tongue, or body; not in the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, or kidneys; nor among the three hundred and sixty joints, the limbs, or the blood vessels. They have another secret existence, without direction or location, without form or image. It is neither inside the body nor outside it, but in a realm of emptiness and stillness. Only when cultivation proceeds from here does it have a true foundation, so that you will not mistake the false for the true or be led astray by heterodox paths. Otherwise, if you do not know what nature and life are and merely search up and down the body, performing random practices on what has form and substance while hoping to attain the Dao, success will be difficult.

Daoist patriarchs say that among all kinds of evil conduct, sexual desire causes the greatest harm. The Wuzhen pian says that some people believe they can cultivate simply by sealing off the Tail Gate, an acupuncture point near the base of the spine, while engaging in sexual practices. Instead, they have harmed many people. The ancient scriptures also say that treating Zhang Sanfeng’s so-called “bedchamber combat method” as a way of cultivating the Dao will only bring the ancestors the suffering of descent into ruin. These statements criticize the practice of refining a “bedchamber elixir” through sexual intercourse. It does nothing to cultivate the self, nourish one’s nature, or preserve life; instead, it seriously damages one’s hidden virtue.

The Golden Elixir is, from the beginning, the fundamental nature that everyone possesses in its entirety and perfection. Whether one is in a sacred realm or the ordinary world, this foundation neither increases nor diminishes. In the original state, nature and life are joined, Yin and Yang blend, and the Five Phases share the same Qi; no further cultivation or realization is needed. Later, when the innate Yang Qi reaches its height, acquired Yin gradually arises. Nature and life separate, Yin and Yang divide, and the Five Phases fall out of balance. The original wholeness is then gradually depleted and obscured, no longer able to manifest. The patriarchs therefore established the way of returning through the Golden Elixir, so that people might cultivate repeatedly and restore body and mind to their original, perfect state, lacking nothing.

The way of return is to reunite nature and life, bring Yin and Yang together again, and restore harmony among the Five Phases. Since cultivation still draws on the principles of Yin and Yang and the Five Phases, alchemical texts use metaphors such as man and woman, self and other, infant, maiden, Golden Duke, Wood Mother, young lord and lady, and the matchmaker Huang Po. Though these expressions vary endlessly, they all explain how Yin and Yang can meet and the Five Phases gather into unity.

Lü Dongbin said that cultivation takes the process of human reproduction as a point of reference and that one must grasp its heavenly mechanism, but must not mistake the metaphor for actual sexual intercourse. Cultivating the Dao resembles human reproduction in the ordinary world in certain ways: ordinary people are born through the bodies of their parents, while cultivators bring forth a Dharma body—the spiritual body achieved through cultivation—with the aid of the “numinous father and sacred mother.” The two processes move in opposite directions and differ greatly. Zhang Sanfeng’s saying, “Following the course leads to the ordinary; reversing it leads to the immortal,” means that following the usual course of human life leads one to remain ordinary, while reversing it through cultivation may lead to immortality. The key is to reverse the operation of Yin and Yang.

The Yin and Yang described in alchemical texts are the “numinous father and sacred mother”: the true Yin and Yang within the human body, not the acquired, physical bodies of men and women. If even the Yin and Yang of one’s own acquired form cannot be used to refine the elixir, then the bodies of men and women outside oneself certainly cannot be used as materials for cultivation. Confused seekers who believe the reckless claims of false teachers mistake cultivation for sexual misconduct between men and women. Some even practice so-called “Three Peaks Combat,” “nine shallow thrusts and one deep thrust,” “making nine women into nine cauldrons through nine cycles,” collecting menstrual blood, drinking women’s breast milk, or forging a sword through a young girl. Others pass off such ideas as spiritual union, drawing breath across a curtain, or reversing the positions of men and women as methods of alchemy. These acts are filthy and absurd, violate morality, and are no better than the behavior of beasts.

Worse still, some fools invoke the patriarchs’ names to fabricate obscene, false books and pass them down to later generations, leading people into wrongdoing. Others distort the ancient scriptures with claims about the bedchamber elixir and disrupt the true path. The actions of Peng Haogu, Zhiji Zi, and others deceive both themselves and others, leading seekers of the Dao astray and making it difficult for them to find their way out.

In the way of nature and life, the union of true Yin and true Yang is a state of cultivation that is utterly pure, immaculate, precious, and supreme. The two Qi respond to one another and gather within the void, forming the “sacred embryo,” also called “a man carrying a child.” This “embryo” is not physical flesh and blood, but a gathering of pure, clear Yang Qi. If one treats the impure blood and Qi of a young woman as the material from which to form an embryo, the result is not a sacred embryo that ascends to heaven, but a “ghost embryo” that falls into hell. One may then be unable even to preserve the human form, much less become an immortal.

The patriarchs urge those who truly wish to cultivate the Dao to abandon the bedchamber-elixir doctrine as soon as possible and completely clear away the paths of sexual desire and evil arts. They should instead seek the true Yin and Yang within themselves and bring them together as one. Then, within, a spark of numinous life will naturally arise, enabling them to cultivate toward becoming immortals or Buddhas and endure as long as Heaven and Earth. But those who indulge their sexual desires, do evil, harm others, and damage their virtue while still hoping to attain the Dao will find it difficult to succeed.

Immortal Xu said, “How could things that are mixed in nature and unlike one another possibly be joined together?” Immortal Chunyu said, “Methods of cultivation work readily with things of the same kind. When they are of different kinds, even the most ingenious methods are hard to make effective.” Immortal Ziyang said, “Do not refine mineral drugs such as the Three Yellows and Four Spirits, nor search among all kinds of herbs for the true medicine. Yin and Yang must be of the same kind to resonate with each other; each contributes half, and they naturally unite. When a red light like sunlight rises from the bottom of the pool, dark and uncanny Qi dissipates; when a white light like moonlight appears on the mountain peak, the medicinal sprout is renewed.”

Practitioners should understand that true lead and true mercury are not the cinnabar and quicksilver found in the world. A scripture also says, “Do not fixate on the alchemical stove and waste your effort. To refine the medicine, seek the Crescent Moon Furnace, the vessel that symbolizes inner cultivation. The true timing of the fire arises naturally; it needs neither firewood nor charcoal, nor bellows to fan the flames.” Immortal Sanfeng said, “The five metals and eight minerals are all false; a thousand herbs and ten thousand methods are all mistaken. The Golden Toad and Jade Crow—only those who recognize the true medicine are experts.” These words concern the Great Way of the Golden Elixir, not the art of smelting ores over a furnace fire.

In the term “Golden Elixir,” “gold” means firmness and strength that cannot decay, while “elixir” means completeness without flaw. The Golden Elixir is the original, primordial treasure, pure and wondrous in its unity. It is also called “the primordial Qi of true unity,” “the ancestral Qi that gives birth to beings,” “the primordial spiritual root,” and “the precious pearl of the Origin.” In sum, it is the true spiritual Qi in its most refined and pure state. Confucians call it the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), Buddhists call it perfect awakening, and Daoists call it the Golden Elixir. It has no shape and belongs neither to color and form nor to emptiness, yet it can give rise to formed things, substantial appearances, and subtle colors. It is not nothingness, yet it is true stillness and emptiness. It has its source in the primordial, and lies concealed within the later-born; it is the root of nature and life, the seed of immortals and Buddhas, and the foundation of sages and worthies. Recognize and cultivate it, and one can transcend birth and death and surpass the transformations of the natural order. Ordinary people, too, can cultivate themselves to the realm of sages and reach a state beyond birth and extinction.

Yet people often fail to recognize this root and pass it by. To truly know it, one must not speculate or argue at will; it must be transmitted mind to mind and spoken by a clear-sighted master. Such a master must also explain in detail which medicines are genuine and which false, which timings of the fire are correct and which mistaken, as well as the order of cultivation and how to apply its methods. Only then can cultivation advance. The immortal scriptures of past generations explain the principles in meticulous detail and describe them in profound terms; in truth, they already contain the principles and methods in full. But because these principles shift in many ways, the ancients drew images from particular circumstances and borrowed objects to name them. They used visible things to illustrate invisible principles, and divided a single principle into separate explanations. The scriptures conceal their meaning and hold within them the secrets of Heaven, so they are not easy to state directly. They therefore teach readers to grasp the essential meaning through metaphor, then let go of the metaphors and words and investigate and understand for themselves. If the meaning remains unclear, seek confirmation from a person who has attained the Way. Learning should proceed from breadth to simplicity, and from doubt to understanding. Do not assume that reading words in a book is the same as attaining the Way.

Every saying of the patriarchs concerns the wondrous workings of nature and life, close at hand in the practitioner’s own body and mind. It describes real cultivation within one’s own nature and life, not a search for what is far away, still less the use of the world’s impure substances. Those muddled in their pursuit of the Dao often abandon what is near and go looking far away. They make what is simple needlessly difficult. They do not investigate the meaning of the scriptures, but cling to the metaphors; they do not pursue the principles within, but memorize the words. Then they trade riddles and each invents a different explanation.

They read of the “Great Golden Elixir” and “Little Golden Elixir” and assume these are tangible objects. They read of the “Golden Tripod and Jade Furnace” and take them to mean earthen stoves and vessels of copper or iron. They read of “lead and mercury as medicines” and think of quicksilver and black lead. They read of “yellow sprouts and white snow” and imagine medicinal frost produced by smelting. They read of “gentle cooking and forceful refining” and think of ordinary furnace fires fueled by wood and fanned by bellows. They smelt and ingest impure substances such as metals, stones, plants, and trees, hoping to sustain their formless nature and life by such means. But a split bamboo is mended with bamboo, and a chick is hatched from an egg. How could ordinary things of the world, which are not of the same kind as human nature and life, sustain them?

There are also deluded people who seize on the patriarchs’ claims that the Golden Elixir can be taken by mouth and transform the mortal body, or quote sayings such as, “Believe in the Dao: one grain of Golden Elixir, swallowed by a snake, turns it into a dragon; eaten by a chicken, it transforms into a phoenix or roc.” They then refine metals and stones, cinnabar and mercury, the Three Yellows and Four Spirits, hoping to swallow these substances and ascend or undergo transformation. They never stop to consider how the blood, flesh, sinews, and bones of a mortal could be transformed by mineral drugs and made to change shape and fly. This is utter foolishness. Mineral drugs are poisonous to begin with. Fire refining combines their toxins with the toxins of fire and makes them even more potent. Taking them can injure the intestines, damage the skin, and even cause death.

Long ago, Zhang, the Minister of the Board from Jiujiang, believed in ingesting elixirs. Ancestor Lü tried to awaken him, but he did not come to his senses. Lü Zu wrote a poem on his door: “What a pity, Zhang, Minister of the Board from Jiujiang: taking drugs, you lost your sight, and your spirit and Qi withered. You did not know the Return Elixir has no substance; how foolish to swallow minerals in error!” Zhang later did indeed go blind. From this we can see that mineral drugs cannot bring cultivation to completion; they only harm people. Countless people, in every age, have suffered as a result.

There are also greedy people who harm others. Citing the patriarchs’ saying, “To seek treasures in Heaven, you must have wealth in the world,” they claim that buying a tripod and preparing medicines require money. They then go looking everywhere for patrons and wealthy people, deceiving the uninformed while living at their expense. Some use methods for multiplying silver; some extract what they call “blood” from red copper; some smelt lead to transform mercury; others burn mugwort to refine copper. All these practices pass false substances off as true ones. How could they lead to the true Dao? Worse still, some steal genuine goods and replace them with counterfeits, defrauding people and ruining their households. They act like thieves and are utterly vicious.

Long ago, Ancestor Zhengyang passed on the arts of transmuting yellow and white metals to Ancestor Lü to help people in the world. But Lü Zu thought that the art would have to be reclaimed three thousand years later, and feared it might harm future generations, so he was unwilling to practice it. What profound care he showed! Followers deluded by furnace arts not only fail to accumulate virtue but damage it. They wear the patriarchs’ robes while violating their conduct, abandoning all conscience. How could the principles of Heaven permit this?

I urge those who sincerely study the Dao to clear the “furnace-fire barrier” at once. Sweep away all improper practices, including smelting elixirs, cooking medicines, and refining mugwort. Instead, examine carefully your own nature and life, and discover within yourself the “Cosmic Furnace and Cauldron” and the “Crow and Hare Medicines.” Use the “True Samadhi Fire,” a symbol of the true fire of inner cultivation, to forge them into a treasure. This is what truly brings benefit. Otherwise, treating metals and stones as snacks and poisons as supreme treasures of life can only harm rather than help. To imagine that such things can lead to the Dao is impossible.

The fifty barriers discussed above are all checkpoints that practitioners must pass in cultivating nature and life. They are also great obstacles on the perilous, shadowed path. Each barrier must be cleared in turn before progress can continue. Even a peerless hero, mighty enough to pull up mountains, would find it difficult to attain the Dao if a single barrier remained uncleared.

Practitioners must clearly recognize these barriers and truly believe in their importance. Even if they cannot pass them all at once, steady effort will eventually open the way through. If they fail to recognize the barriers or do not believe they are real, they will remain trapped within them, unable to reach the other side. When seeking to ascend the Great Dao, can one simply sprout wings and fly over, or rise on clouds and pass beyond? Would that not derail one’s progress in cultivation?

Many practitioners pay these barriers no heed, believing them unimportant. They neglect what is near in pursuit of what is far, and reject what is easy in favor of what is difficult. They refuse to first remove the roots of their own afflictions, yet presume they can acquire another person’s inheritance. They have not fulfilled the responsibilities that are theirs, yet presume they can receive another person’s heavenly treasure—the precious treasures of cultivation. Who would hand over an inheritance to someone sick and weak? And who would entrust heavenly treasures to someone unreliable?

The Dao of nature and life—the cultivation of life and one’s nature—is the most important and the most difficult undertaking in the world. Without great strength and great merit, no true person of stature can shoulder it or bring it to completion. Anyone who passes through these barriers one by one has already shown great strength and great merit. If such a person then receives guidance from a wise teacher who understands the Great Dao and can direct their practice, they can ascend straight to the farther shore, the state sought through cultivation. Neither favorable nor adverse circumstances will obstruct them; with each step, they will see results. Why then worry that the Great Dao is difficult to attain?

Song on the Ultimate Saying

I often recall the days when I was down on my luck, carrying a sincere wish in my heart as I searched everywhere for a true master. I traveled in vain through Yanjing and Henan, then journeyed fruitlessly through Shanxi and the Guanzhong region. What I often saw were strange people, like lion-demons; what I heard were only cunning words, like those of foxes. Everyone said immortals were easy to encounter. Who knew that the true Way was in fact the hardest to recognize?

Later, after the darkest hour had passed, the spirits gave me guidance: I was to stop seeking outward for the golden citadel of the Great Way. The Old Man of Kangu, the master I revere, was no ordinary person; every word he spoke was profound. He once whispered to me the “Gate of the Mysterious Female,” a Neidan term for the pivotal opening where Yin and Yang meet and refinement and transformation take place. He explained then the principle of reversing Yin and Yang. The wondrous workings of the Great Way follow nature; unlike heterodox paths, they do not rely on forced contrivances.

When we parted, my master urged me to guard the teachings he had passed on with care, first to fulfill my human responsibilities, and then to investigate the Way further. Because I left his school so early, I failed to understand many of the teachings that followed. My heart remained uneasy, and for thirteen years I carried these doubts. Later, by good fortune, I received the immortal master’s guidance in the region of the Han River. Only then could I uncover the “Root of Heaven” and “Marrow of Earth,” and understand the “Crow’s Liver” and “Rabbit’s Intestines”—symbolic terms in Neidan that often refer to Yin and Yang, the sun and moon, and the substances and principles involved in refinement. My master also explained in detail the fast and slow phases of the firing process, along with the stages of cultivation. Cultivating nature and cultivating life each have their own essentials; observing the openings and contemplating the mysteries each have their proper times. Only when the Four Symbols are harmonized can the Elixir return; only when the Five Phases are blended can the inner embryo take shape. Once Yin is fully exhausted and Yang made pure, the work is complete: one transcends life and death, entering a state without birth or extinction.

Hearing these true formulas, I suddenly understood and entered a subtle, mysterious realm. I grasped the sequence of cultivation from beginning to end, and only then learned that still higher realms remained. Exotic flowers and jade-like plants seemed to stand before my eyes; White Snow and Yellow Sprout—the essence gained through Neidan refinement—were already complete within me. All I saw to my left and right, before and behind, was treasure and golden lotus. This celestial secret cannot be found easily. To seek it, one must set one’s purpose early: first put aside worldly affairs, then release the ties of personal attachments. With an open and humble heart, one must seek instruction from people of great understanding and investigate the subtle principles deeply. After hardship comes sweetness of its own accord. With steadfast resolve, one will at last obtain the true treasure.

I, Wuyuan, have long held a profound vow. I cherish what is just and harbor no selfish intent; I only hope that everyone may ascend to the realm of the sages and hear the true teachings often. Crooked, heterodox paths disturb the true Way, and some call counterfeit gold made by plating copper real gold. Many students fall into a boundless snare, while those with aspirations often lose their way in dark pine groves. Where can they go to appeal these wrongs? By the time regret arrives, it is too late for tears. In the end, they have failed to investigate the principles carefully, and their practice has been vague and unfocused. People do not know that the sages’ Way is truly transmitted, nor do they understand that the secrets of cosmic transformation cannot be seized lightly. Without great discipline and sustained effort, even if the immortal realm of Penglai lies just before one’s eyes, one can only yearn for it without finding the way in.

How lamentable are the confused people of this world. They dream of ascending the road that reaches Heaven, yet end up falling back into the dust of the world. When the blind lead the blind, they damage their hidden virtue; passing error from one person to the next only sends people further astray. I cannot bear to see the Great Way lost, so I have carefully set out the lineage handed down by the patriarchs. I do this neither to seek fame nor to show off my eloquence. Direct Pointers for Understanding and Realization uses analogies to reveal the essentials; Clarifying the Truth of the Zhouyi explains the stages of the firing process. These works examine doubts and difficulties in turn and distinguish right from wrong, while Collected Meanings of the Dao De Jing establishes the rules of cultivation. They explain the original meaning and function of the classics, and describe in detail the substances used in cultivation. Guidance for Awakening to the Dao expounds the subtle principles, while Breaking Doubts and Passing the Barrier helps resolve confusion and form bonds with fellow practitioners.

The plainer the language, the clearer the principles; the finer the explanation, the more precise the practice. Only through careful attention, humility, and self-restraint can one reach the heights. Starting from emptiness and stillness, one can gradually become full. If one abandons what is near in pursuit of what is far, greed for the grand will ultimately ruin one’s progress. Better to begin by treating the troubles close at hand than to leap ahead and vainly imagine attaining immortality. At this point, no essential teaching remains unsaid; the rules of cultivation have all been explained. These thousands of words clarify the truth, and every sentence carries deep meaning. They are not merely surface writing, but secrets for becoming an immortal and realizing the Dao. Though there are few kindred readers in the world today, I leave this work behind for worthy people of later generations to study carefully.

I am old now, and do not wish to say more. My wish has been fulfilled, and I want to fall silent. I will gather in my senses, shut the door, and cultivate in stillness; put aside clever schemes and thoughts, restrain outward display, and return to the root. My eyes will no longer watch the turmoil of the world. In my heart I will always keep the banner of the Dao of Primordial Unity. Outwardly, I will seem dull, silent, and unfamiliar with worldly affairs; inwardly, I will hold the pivot of Yin-Yang and cosmic transformation.