《道门语要》

Huang Yuanji held that the foundation of cultivating the Dao lies in guarding the mind so that one's thoughts never stray from the correct Way. Since antiquity, the essential secrets of the sages of the three teachings, Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, have largely rested on this point. Daoist cultivation emphasizes tranquility and non-action (Wuwei), and it can be practiced anywhere and at any time. There is no need to deliberately practice seated meditation or visualize emptiness; one need only allow the mind to settle naturally in the place where it ought to rest.

The Dao is by nature so of itself, without any distinction of motion and stillness or of beginning and end. If a person wishes to be free of worldly concerns in the mind, they must first avoid being moved by external affairs. Good and evil need not be turned over repeatedly in thought, and so-called human desires and heavenly principle should not become objects of attachment in the heart. The mind should be like a clear mirror, making no advance distinctions, responding naturally as things arrive.

The innate awareness (juexing) is complete and luminous. It is not obtained through adorning oneself or restraining oneself, just as the eye is naturally bright but is easily obscured by tiny specks of dust. Heaven and earth are originally vast, and in facing things one need not cling to aversion or attachment. Although cultivation involves concrete practice, one should persist from beginning to end. Even if effort is needed at first, it will eventually return to naturalness and allow one to realize the principle of non-action (Wuwei). For this reason, Huang Yuanji wrote this preface to explain the reasons for compiling and publishing the Daomen Yaoyu (Essential Sayings of the Daoist School).

The Book of Changes says, "The Changes contain the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), which gives birth to the Two Modes." Here the Taiji is compared to xing (nature) and the Two Modes to ming (life-destiny). Although xing and ming have two names, in reality xing is the master, operating between Yin and Yang. Xing originally has no form or trace, while ming has some form and trace. Xing has no birth or death, but ming does. Xing has no beginning or end, but ming does. Xing has no movement or stillness, but ming does. Before ming takes shape, the principle of xing already endures between Heaven and Earth. After ming takes form, the principle of xing is already complete within the human body. Xing is supremely important, yet without ming it has no way to manifest. For this reason, xing and ming may be united as one and should not be regarded separately.

When a person's parents unite and jing (essence) and qi (vital energy) join at the very beginning, a single spark of numinous nature (xing) is hidden within the womb. The primordial original nature transforms into the yin mercury of the Li trigram, and the primordial original destiny transforms into the yang lead of the Kan trigram. Here "mercury" and "lead" are symbolic terms borrowed from the practice of Neidan (internal alchemy). Both are also called yuanqi (original qi). Thereafter, one water and one fire, one rising and one descending, shen (spirit) and qi intermingle, and the heart and kidneys gradually take form. After long nourishment, the fetus is fully formed. Once the fetus leaves the mother's womb, it begins to live independently. Although it is now bound by bodily form and no longer undifferentiated as it was in the primordial single qi, it remains in a state of unawareness and non-striving, not far from the natural order of Heaven and Earth. Thus the body gradually grows and wisdom gradually opens, and these changes all arise spontaneously.

Around the age of sixteen, when jing and qi are abundant, a person who does not understand the method of return (huanzhi shu, the cultivation practice by which jing, qi, and shen are restored to their source) easily falls under the influence of worldly habits. Desires arise and one craves sound and beauty. Longing for more stirs the mind, and one chases after glory and luxury. When the mind fixes upon these desires, qi moves in response, and once qi moves, shen is drawn along with it. In this way the inner mind becomes entangled in worries, external disturbances never cease, shen scatters, yuanqi dissipates, and xing and ming become difficult to preserve.

Those who cultivate the Dao wish to restore the innate nature and life (xiantian de xingming), the essence and root of life that a person is born with. To do so, they must first nourish the acquired shen and qi (houtian de shenqi). Yet stabilizing the acquired shen and qi also depends on restoring the innate xingming. Looking across the ages at those who became perfected, attained sagehood, and rode the crane to ascend as immortals, none did so without accomplishing their life-work (minggong) through cultivating nature (xing). Those who cultivate only nature without refining life, or only refine life without cultivating nature, each cling to one extreme and rarely achieve anything.

Nature is the root of life, and life is the foundation of nature. Although the two follow a sequence in practice, the effort cannot favor one over the other. Why is it that later students and those who leave home to practice so often focus only on nature or only on life, and so end their days without achievement, never realizing they should change course?

Nature governs the whole body, while life is the functioning of the body's vital activity. If one does not nourish jing and qi, but pursues only luminous awareness (linghui juewu), the body and the foundation of life cannot be sustained, and then where would nature abide? If one does not sweep away distracting thoughts and seek the true Dao, but only concerns oneself with refining elixirs and gathering medicinals, the mind-nature will not manifest, and the life-work will exist in vain.

Moreover, when Heaven gives birth to people, it necessarily first has li (principle) and only afterward has qi (the vital breath that constitutes life and all things). Without li, it is like a tree without roots: how could it grow lush? Cultivating the Dao must likewise begin with cultivating life, and thereby come to understand one's original nature. Without life, it is like a lamp without oil: how could it shine? In sum, the source of the Dao is one, and cultivation must attend to both nature and life so as not to lean to one side and fall into the fault that "yang alone does not grow, yin alone does not produce" (du yang bu zhang, gu yin bu sheng).

On the Practical Meaning of Jing, Qi, and Shen

The Xinyin Jing states: "The superior medicines are three: shen, qi, and jing." From this we know that the "great medicine" (da yao) within the human body is the "great elixir" (da dan) within the body. Those who cultivate the Dao should refine jing, qi, and shen in sequence, so as not to neglect any one of them.

In the beginning of human life, a single point of Yuanshen (primordial spirit, the innate spiritual source) enters the fetus from the void. Shen gives rise to Qi (the vital energy of life activity), and Qi in turn generates Jing (the essence of life). Through ten months of gestation and three years of nursing, passing through what is called the calendar of "five thousand four hundred and eight" days, the body of the Four Elements, composed of earth, water, fire, and wind, finally takes form. This is the process by which a person comes into being in accordance with natural transformation.

If one wishes to reverse the aging process, become a Zhenren (perfected person), and attain the sacred realm, one must cultivate in the opposite direction: refining Jing to transform it into Qi, refining Qi to transform it into Shen, and then returning Shen to emptiness so as to unite with the Dao. This is the reverse method of cultivation by which one becomes an immortal.

To refine Jing does not mean merely refining the seminal fluid produced by sexual union; refining Qi is not merely refining the breath; and refining Shen is not merely refining the thoughts and mental activity of the mind. One must seek within the physical body the place where innate true Jing arises, how innate true Qi is set in motion, and where innate true Shen resides. Once these are clarified, the work of refining the elixir becomes not difficult; otherwise, what is produced is only an illusory elixir, which cannot endure long or avoid decay.

Even so, when cultivating jing, one should first refine yuan jing (the primordial essence innate from Heaven), without damaging the posterior jing produced through the interaction of yin and yang. When cultivating qi (the vital breath spoken of in Daoism), one should refine yuan qi (primordial qi) without damaging the qi of ordinary breathing that arises after birth. When cultivating shen, one should refine yuan shen (the primordial spirit innate from Heaven) without extinguishing the posterior shen of thought and reflection.

Xiantian (prior to Heaven) is the substance of the Dao, and houtian (posterior to Heaven) is its function. Before a person is born, the function is contained within the substance; after birth, the substance is hidden within the function. If one does not rely on the functions of houtian to return to the substance of xiantian, what could serve as the foundation for cultivation? Moreover, indulgence without restraint makes it difficult to preserve body, mind, and life. If private desires are not eliminated, tianli (Heavenly Principle) has no way to endure. Irregular conduct and excessive exhaustion easily leave jing, qi, and shen debilitated. To keep the xiantian jing, qi, and shen whole, one must first preserve the houtian jing, qi, and shen.

Although jing, qi, and shen are divided into xiantian and houtian, they are in fact not entirely separate; the difference lies only in whether private desire is present. If a practitioner of the Dao can detach from the entanglements of the mundane world, see through the net of karmic offenses, and regard external possessions as not truly one's own, and even regard the body as a transient illusion without clinging to it excessively, then refining jing can accomplish yuan jing, refining qi can accomplish yuan qi, and refining shen can accomplish yuan shen. To form the xiantian da dan (great elixir) from the xiantian da yao (great medicine) is surely not difficult.

(When one attains the heart, one can forget the body; when one attains the shen, one can forget thought.)

At the start of cultivation, one must first lower the eyelids, quiet the external sounds and breath, and in stillness contemplate the Dantian (energy center) below the navel, the site of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice in the lower abdomen, about one cun and three fen below the navel. Then jing (essence) begins to stir, and the practitioner uses "river-cart transport" (hechē bānyùn, the Daoist inner alchemy term for circulating jing) to carry the jing gathered in the Dantian throughout the body. After nourishing and irrigating in this way for some time, jing gradually transforms into qi (the vital energy of life), filling the entire body. This is called "refining jing to transform into qi" (liàn jīng huà qì).

Once jing has become qi, the practice proceeds through stages such as "passing the barriers and taking the elixir" (guòguān fúshí) and "gently nourishing the great elixir" (wēnyǎng dàyào). This belongs to "refining qi to transform into shen" (liàn qì huà shén), the spirit. After this, one undertakes the work of facing the wall (miànbì) and walks the path of returning to emptiness (huánxū). Cultivation begins at the lower field, moves on to the middle field, and is finally nourished in the upper field. The phrase "the three fields returning and repeating" (sāntián fǎnfù) refers to this process of cultivating in the upper, middle, and lower Dantian in turn and then cycling back to nourish them again. This is the path of cultivation, and those who study the Dao should understand its principles and take them as the foundation of their practice.

Jiànxìng liàng zhī dà (the scope of seeing one's nature): the realm of seeing one's nature is vast.

To know one's true nature (the innate reality of one's original disposition), one must first observe its beginnings in a calm and settled mind. Once one has truly recognized within oneself a state that is real, clear, still, bright, and never obscured, one should hold onto it in quiet and observe it in action, applying it to all affairs and things and never going against the principle of supreme goodness. Through long and deep cultivation, this awareness becomes naturally lucid and responsive, and it can be perceived anywhere and at any time.

What is called "nature" (xing) is the substance of the Great Void (taixu, the boundless emptiness), which is empty, clear, still, and subtle. Zhang Zai's "Great Harmony" (taihe) refers to this Dao. Its substance appears as the four virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom (ren, yi, li, zhi). Its function appears as the four feelings and judgments of compassion, shame and dislike, deference and yielding, and right and wrong. When it rests within the heart, it is a state of central balance, unmoved and still. When it manifests outwardly, it is a state of harmony, responding to things and flowing through them without obstruction. When the heart is free of bias and conduct does not go astray, then whether what is held within or what is expressed outwardly, the breadth of one's nature is revealed.

In its subtle aspects, this nature shows itself in virtuous conduct, wisdom, talent, planning, and the first stirrings of thought. In its visible aspects, it shows itself in seeing, hearing, speaking, and moving, and in the everyday details of clothing, eating, and daily life. In dealing with others, it appears as a heart that loves one's own family and cares for the people. In dealing with the myriad creatures, it carries the wish that birds, beasts, grasses, and trees may all grow and flourish as they should.

In sum, nature admits no division between inner and outer, or between movement and stillness. One who truly recognizes the real face of nature is not hindered by any time or any thing. This is because nature inherently encompasses Heaven and Earth, penetrates past and present, and governs humanity and all things, leaving nothing outside itself. It is only that human selfish desires obscure it, so that a person's own body and mind become like foreign lands cut off from one another. How, then, could the state, the realm, the people, and the myriad creatures avoid being estranged from one another for the same reason?

Therefore, when the junzi (exemplary person) cultivates learning, before events arise, their mind is open and impartial. When events come before them, they respond appropriately, following the situation. They do not go out to meet what has not yet arrived, nor do they resist what has already passed. Instead, they respond to things as they are and remain at ease wherever they are. External things keep changing, yet the root within them is not shaken by it. Affairs may come to an end, yet their capacity to respond does not run dry. This is like a bright mirror hung high: beauty appears as beauty, ugliness appears as ugliness, and the mirror itself harbors no partiality toward either. Thus their mind can reach all things without clinging to private interests, and their feelings accord with the myriad things without being governed by emotion. They possess a magnanimity such that "if one speaks of its greatness, the world cannot contain it; if one speaks of its smallness, the world cannot divide it."

If it were not so, people would be confined to one-sided learning, and their hearts would have no room to contain the myriad things. Therefore, the heart can embrace all things universally without clinging to any one of them, and feelings can accord with all things without being held captive by them. Speaking of vastness, nothing under heaven can carry it; speaking of subtlety, nothing under heaven can destroy it.

If one is bound to one-sided learning, some people seek only stillness and take quietness as their cultivation, while others pursue only action and take activity as their practice. Even when they have some insight, they lose it as soon as they gain it, so how could they unite inner and outer, self and things, movement and stillness, and others and oneself into one? This is precisely the effort by which the sages preserved and nurtured their nature and heart. In the time when there is neither movement nor stillness, they seek the common root of movement and stillness, hold firmly to it, and never forget it, not turning away from it even in moments of haste or distress. In this way, the heart and principle (li) interpenetrate and merge into one, and there is no longer any barrier between inner and outer, or between oneself and others.

Yet how easy is such a state to describe? Surveying past and present and observing human sentiment, people everywhere value the external and neglect the internal. Day after day they scheme for private gain, craving only sound, color, goods, and profit, and seek security for themselves and their households. They do not realize that the nature and heart matter most, and that nothing under heaven is more worthy of value. Even when some know this, they often merely imitate it by rote. Sometimes they manage it while sitting quietly, but when they act, they cannot. Sometimes a thought arises and vanishes in an instant. They have not truly found that one fixed and unshakable root.

This is just what Mencius meant by "dwelling in the broad abode and walking the great Dao." When they attain their aims, they lead the common people to follow the right path together; when they do not, they still hold to their own Dao alone. Even in the face of wealth and honor, poverty and humble station, or power and authority, they are not confused, not altered, and not subdued. With such an open breadth of mind and expanded vision, no matter how the people of the world debate right and wrong, good and evil, or wise and foolish, none of it can enter the heart or disturb its authenticity. Where, then, is such a person to be found?

I hope that later learners will first find this fundamental thing. It is neither substantial existence nor empty nothingness; it has no sound and no smell. In stillness, hold on to it; in action, attend to it. Facing different affairs and things, remain empty and tranquil, wait calmly, and respond appropriately according to the situation. Before an affair has arisen, do not rush to act rashly; once an affair has passed, do not linger on it.

The "past mind, future mind, and present mind" that Buddhism speaks of (attachment to the past, the future, and the present moment) should all be brought to rest. The "marks of self, of others, of sentient beings, and of lifespan" (attachment to distinctions between oneself, others, living beings, and the length of life) should all be seen through as empty. In this way, one holds on to the original nature that is empty, clear, and vast, and nourishes it with deep and pure effort, so that it can be applied to the world and to later generations, and every affair is handled appropriately.

In sum, the original nature (benxing) has no boundary and cannot be grasped. To know its true appearance: in stillness, it is like a boundless, open expanse that is nonetheless clear and unobscured; in motion, it is as Mencius described, when a person suddenly sees a child about to fall into a well and immediately feels alarm and compassion arise.

Everyone has an original nature, and it does reveal itself at certain moments. But after it reveals itself once, it often becomes hard to see again. This is because when the true nature emerges, it flows naturally from the original heart without any admixture of calculation. Once one turns to deliberation, the calculations of gain and loss, and the likes and dislikes, arise, and the true nature is then obscured. Therefore Confucius said, "Thinking twice is enough."

Some later learners, while cultivating stillness, have also glimpsed the boundless root of the nature. Yet when they cultivate themselves and deal with the world, they still tend to divide stillness and motion into two parts, unable to make the two flow together as one. This is because they have not yet understood the measure of the nature. The nature in fact encompasses the entire cosmos, and nothing can go beyond the scope it covers. If one cannot thoroughly awaken to this, it will be difficult to reach the realm of the Dao (the Way).

This passage speaks of the core method handed down from generation to generation by the sages, and the first thing a cultivator must accomplish. Begin with a single thought of benevolence and extend it across heaven and earth. Begin with a single good deed and keep accumulating until one holds all things under heaven in care, from ancient times to the present. If one truly grasps this, why would one still cling to "refining cinnabar and mercury" (the traditional phrase for Neidan, internal alchemy)?

The Key to Establishing Life

The Dao (the Way) that I teach emphasizes the dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu), which means cultivating one's inherent nature and the root of one's vital existence together. Although "nature" and "life" are spoken of separately, they are in fact one. Nature is the root of life, and life is the support of nature. Without life, nature has nothing on which to rest; without nature, life has no master.

If a person understands the origin of nature and life, they will see that selfish thoughts, false pretenses, and the activity of conscious awareness all become obstacles to the cultivation of life. In practice, one should return from acquired life, the vitality that forms after birth and is shaped by breathing and the condition of the body, to primordial life, the original qi present when heaven and earth first came into being. Only then can one hope to avoid clinging to the reality of things, and also avoid the bias that everything is empty, and so draw near to the Way of the true immortal.

Otherwise, if one nourishes only the acquired blood and qi and does not understand the primordial life of emptiness, then even a long life is no more than a ghost guarding a corpse. Such a person will remain, generation after generation, sunk in desire and unable to be liberated.

The Yijing says: "When the qi of heaven and earth intermingle, the myriad things are transformed and brought to maturity; when man and woman unite, the myriad things multiply." A human being receives the primordial qi of heaven and earth to form nature, and receives the essence (jing) and qi of their parents to establish life. Thereafter, through opening and closing, bending and extending, the fetus ripens over ten months and is born into the world. It then has a body standing independently between heaven and earth, and it has the distinction of yin and yang. Yet at its root, a person remains connected to heaven, earth, and parents, and is in no way truly separate from them.

If a person's breath fails to connect for a single breath, they die. The qi of heaven and earth must intermingle within, and only then can it continually generate the myriad things. To describe this merely as the rising and falling of breath would be to regard the qi of heaven and earth as meeting yet still divided into two parts. Human qi works the same way. It must intermingle within the body before it can give life without end. To speak of cultivation merely as exhaling and inhaling, with qi moving up and down, is still to regard the qi of heaven and earth, which was originally one, as separate.

The primordial qi within the human body must also circulate and interact throughout the body if it is to keep generating offspring. If the circulation of qi is understood only as exhaling and inhaling, the qi within the body may meet in places, yet it still fails to unite as one whole. How, then, could one build a body that lasts without decay?

Practitioners must use the breath to return to the original qi of Taihe (Great Harmony), the primordial qi that is innately pure and harmonious. How is this done? By not stirring the essence (jing), not overtaxing the body, and not letting thoughts scatter in restless pursuit. Only then is longevity possible.

It is also said: when the mind is still, this is called refining jing; once jing is refined, it is like a tiger roaring and the wind rising. When the body is still, this is called refining qi; once qi is refined, it is like a dragon chanting and the clouds forming. When thoughts are still, this is called refining shen (spirit); once shen is refined, the primordial essence fills and flows, the original qi becomes vast and vigorous, and the primordial spirit grows active and clear.

If these levels cannot yet be reached, one should first reduce desire to nourish jing, reduce speech to nourish qi, and reduce worry to nourish shen. When jing has replenished the marrow of the brain, jing will naturally not leak away. When the mind and breath rely on each other, when one forgets speech and holds fast to inner harmony, qi will naturally not disperse. When the body and spirit both reach a state of subtlety and join with the Dao to become authentic, shen will naturally not be disturbed.

If one does not work through the acquired jing, qi, and shen, and instead tries to silently apprehend the innate primordial qi, one easily falls into distorted practice. An ancient saying goes: "When the acquired breath first stirs a faint breeze, it moves the work of the True Person's transformation." This describes it accurately. It also says: "When the winds of ten thousand hollows first begin to blow, the moon over a thousand mountains suddenly becomes full; act quickly by the proper method, and the zhoutian (the complete circuit) will turn." Here, zhoutian refers to the all-encompassing circulation of qi's movement within inner alchemy (neidan) practice.

Practitioners of the Dao must hold to the state of "centrality" (zhong) while nourishing the Dantian (the energy center located in the lower abdomen, the region that traditional internal practice emphasizes). After long cultivation, Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) gradually become full, and the "medicine" required for Neidan (internal alchemy) arises, with the spirit replete and the vital strength abundant. At this stage, one then conducts the circulation according to the method of eight hundred "drawings and additions" and three hundred and sixty "lines" (yao), advancing the Yang Fire and withdrawing the Yin Talisman. Throughout this process, one also performs the bathing method at the hours of mao (morning) and you (evening), which is the phase of regulating the fire-timing (huohou) in internal alchemy. Afterward, the Danqian (a term in internal alchemy referring to the symbolic medicinal materials used in alchemical work) manifests six kinds of effects. One then practices exercises such as the "Five Dragons Hold the Sage" and the "Seven-Day Passage Through the Gate," hoping through these to supplement the alchemical work, refine the Jade Fluid Elixir, and attain what is called the deathless body.

Next, one must cultivate the further stage of "refining emptiness" (lianxu), so that the mind remains still and unmoving, clear and bright, leaving not the slightest trace of deliberate contrivance, yet with nothing that cannot be met and handled. Only upon reaching this state may one be said to have completed the work and established the Dao. An ancient saying goes: "Once this time one thoroughly dies, only then does one truly come back to life." Another says: "If you wish for a person not to die, one must first let them undergo one death." From this we can see that what is meant is the receding of the ordinary mundane mind and the arising of the mind of the Dao, and the cessation of habitual calculating thoughts so that genuine numinous responsiveness can appear.

Looking at the world's Daoist practitioners, I notice that they often cultivate only the visible physical body and not the Fashen (the inner true body that Daoist practitioners speak of), so that even if they attain longevity, it is only by chance. Others cultivate the Fashen but pay no attention to the cultivation of the physical body. How could they know that before one's parents were born, this Qi existed in empty space, distant and formless, beyond all description? And after Heaven and Earth took shape, this Qi existed within the human body, its traces available for perception. Since one has already received a human body, the undivided primordial Qi becomes trapped within acquired temperament; if one does not first protect and nourish the mortal body, then from where would the pre-heaven primordial Qi manifest? These two one-sided views both fail to grasp the full function of Dao cultivation.

Some people say that there are practitioners of quiet cultivation who cultivate only nature (xing) and not life (ming). Once their cultivation succeeds, their nature returns to its prenatal state, and their life also returns to the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji), the fundamental condition from which all things arise. Those who cultivate life alone, it is feared, cannot achieve this marvelous effect.

However, this also depends on each person's physical condition. If the body is not depleted, and jing (essence), qi (vital energy), and shen (spirit), which Daoist teaching regards as the fundamental elements of life, are all sufficient, then why should one specifically cultivate the work of life? If the body is weak and suffers much depletion, one should begin with the work of life first. Otherwise, even if one reaches a very high level of attainment, one will possess only yin qi and lack the vital, sunlike vitality. In ancient times some people cultivated only nature. Although they could regulate the shen so that it left the shell and roamed freely in all directions, what they ultimately obtained was often illusory and without substance. This was because their foundation was not firmly laid, so they could not reach the state of soaring beyond the void (lingxu), transcending the form and wandering in the far heights. Later students of cultivation should advance from the coarse to the subtle, and from the formed to a return to emptiness. Only in this way will they avoid becoming those who practice pure cultivation in isolation and nourish themselves in empty stillness.

Below, I will explain in detail the meaning of "guarding the center" (shouzhong) and what it involves.

For the Way of refining the elixir (neidan, internal alchemy), those whose bodies are strong and whose spirits are full need not practice the various shouzhong (guarding-the-center) exercises. But for someone past forty or fifty who has long been burdened by social obligations and has many children, this practice is indispensable. Because the body is already depleted and the spirit weakened, jing (essence) and qi (vital energy) readily dissipate if the center is not guarded. In that case, it becomes very difficult to make jing and qi abundant and to generate the medicinal substances.

The method is as follows. The eyes are drawn inward and quietly gathered. The breath is directed toward the dantian (the abdominal site where internal alchemy is practiced), and the mind-spirit is gathered back to the zuqiao (the "ancestral aperture," the place in Daoist usage where the spirit is concentrated and stillness is entered). After a long time, the zhenqi (true qi) gradually becomes sufficient. Inwardly one feels the mind-spirit relaxed and settled, and outwardly the breath becomes long and calm. Sometimes, while asleep at night or napping during the day, at any time or place, the yang organ suddenly becomes erect. This is a clear sign that jing has been stirred and the medicine of internal alchemy is being generated.

The Daodejing (Scripture of the Way and Its Power) says: "Not knowing the union of male and female, yet the member rises: this is because jing has reached its utmost." The key is that no desire may be mixed in. Without desire, the water source is clear (shui yuan qing). With even a trace of desire, the water source becomes turbid. The practitioner must determine whether the erection truly arises from the absence of desire and seeking. If it does, one uses the method of gathering and leads the jing into the dantian, which is called the "earthen cauldron" (tu fu), a metaphor for the inner furnace in which jing is refined. The eyes look upward, and the intention is gently lifted upward as well. After some time, the outward erection subsides and the scrotum contracts. Then one attends to the "lead cauldron" (qian ding), an internal alchemy term for the site where jing is refined and nourished, with a gentle intention. The attention should be as if intentional and yet not intentional, requiring only a slight observation.

This situation mostly occurs during deep sleep at night, but one must not indulge in lying in bed and refuse to rise. Otherwise, once yang is stirred, lewd thoughts may arise and lascivious acts may follow, damaging the true jing. Someone may ask: since people already possess true jing, and ordinary semen constantly forms, why trouble oneself to guard external jing? In truth, without ordinary jing as a foundation, true jing has nothing to rely upon. If ordinary jing is entirely absent, the breath grows faint and life is in peril, and one can barely manage daily social obligations, let alone attain immortality and sainthood. This comes from failing to understand the meaning of jing.

Those who cultivate the Dao should first, while sitting in meditation, concentrate the mind and spirit (shen) and regulate the breath, then return from breath regulation to focused attention. They should set down every thought of worry and concern for themselves and their family. If such matters can already disturb the mind and spirit, how much more will they stand in the way of attaining immortality and sagehood? This is what it means not to understand the principle of jing (essence).

While sitting, they should clear away thoughts about self and family, establish their resolve, and rouse their spirits: "I am now old. What kind of person do I truly wish to become? What should I do today? If I reach my later years without knowing to cultivate quickly and turn back in time, I fear that the years will slip away and wait for no one, and that in the end regret will come too late. What use would that be?" When they can encourage themselves in this way, they should direct the Li Fire (the fire of the mind and spirit) toward the Dantian (the cultivation region within the abdomen).

The breaths may be counted or left uncounted. What matters is that no stray thoughts remain in the mind, that all discursive thinking subsides, and that the breath moves in and out naturally. The breath should be neither too long nor too short, for either would hinder the formation of the Great Medicine (the essential vital energy that inner alchemy speaks of as the key to practice). A breath that is too long brings the danger of "cold water," and one that is too short brings the harm of "hot fire." Both injure the body.

The method is to direct the Shen Light (the concentrated light of the mind and spirit) downward. The scripture holds that the single point of Qian Metal (a Daoist term for the primordial vital essence) lies submerged at the bottom of the water after the union of Qian and Kun. When the divine fire draws near, water vapor rises and metal qi stirs, and it will naturally appear within the Ancestral Cavity (the key orifice in inner alchemy practice).

If it has not yet begun to stir, and one remains seated without moving, then once the yang member rises, the Living Zi Hour (the moment when yang qi is activated in inner alchemy) has arrived. In an instant, sexual desire may arise. Even if no physical act follows, the essence will leave its original position and turn into acquired jing, and once this momentum forms it is hard to reverse. Those who do not yet understand this, and who use the methods of raising and lifting before the yang member has risen, will find the medicinal qi still too weak to be gathered. And if they fail to gather it in time once the yang member has risen, the medicinal qi will age and can no longer be used.

At the outset of cultivation, one must have a clear, discerning mind and the resolve to act decisively. Upon noticing any stirring, one should immediately rise and sit upright, gently drawing up a single thread of true intention. The external yang (the external genitals) and the external sac (the scrotum) must be fully contracted, for only then can true Qi (the primordial vital energy in cultivation terms) arise.

If the yin and yang energies have not joined, yet the penis becomes erect, desire must be mixed into it. This impure "water source" (referring to a jing-qi tainted with desire) must not be gathered and refined. Nor should it be allowed to keep stirring, for it will drain the body's essential energy. At such a time, one should halt it through the practice of preserving principle and restraining desire (cunli exi, nourishing heavenly principle and suppressing craving). One must never mistake this for the arising of true yang and rashly attempt to raise it, for that will harm the body.

One should also understand that true yang arises naturally and cannot be produced through deliberate calculation. When it appears, guide it back into the furnace-cauldron (luding, the body-and-mind region where jing and qi are condensed in internal alchemy), and no great effort is needed, for the jing will naturally return to the cauldron. The body should stand upright like a wall, and the mind should be still as cold ash. Then a state of dim, profound absorption, beyond words, will appear. Each gathering increases the efficacy by a measure. The ancient immortals said: "Accumulate one portion of jing and you gain one portion of strength; accumulate ten portions of qi and you gain ten portions of strength." The potency gained through this gathering is twice that of ordinary quiet observation. The only concern is that practitioners will not promptly awaken and rise to sit upright, so the opportunity passes unused, a true pity. If one does not gather and hold these energies, the jing will gradually accumulate and still be transformed into postnatal jing (jing shaped by diet, desire, and other influences).

This is the entry-level practice of shouzhong (guarding the center, maintaining a centered state of body and mind), and it is the most urgent task for practitioners. The Daoist school's cultivation, from beginning to end, is concerned with the "center." At first one guards the center of form, to refine jing and transform it into qi. At last one guards the center of formlessness, to refine emptiness and unite with the Dao. At this stage, the body will feel loose and soft, like cotton batting.

If we speak of the beginning and end of our Way (Dao, here referring to the Daoist method of alchemical cultivation), the key to both is a single word: zhong (the Center). In the initial stage, one guards the visible Center in order to refine Jing (essence) and transform it into Qi. At the final stage, one guards the invisible Center in order to refine emptiness and unite with the Dao.

At this point, the body becomes soft and comfortable, light and buoyant beyond measure, as if one had just woken from a deep sleep in the warmth of spring, or had just bathed and felt body and mind at peace. One feels as if one is drifting like a bird spreading its wings, or swimming freely like a fish. Toward all things under heaven, the heart is content and at ease, as though there were no distinction between heaven and earth or between self and other. Inside and outside the body, at every moment and in every place, one feels that one is within the Center. Reaching this state may be taken as a sign that the Golden Elixir (jindan) has been completed.

Practitioners must not regard guarding the Center as a shallow technique, nor should they find counting the breath (shuxi, focused counting of the breath) too difficult. If the mind has nothing to hold on to, the spirit has no anchor and will inevitably wander like a wild bird without a place to roost, which is why counting the breath must be the foundation of early practice. The original text notes that these two characters were added by Luo Jun. Compared with the Buddhist method of breath-counting, this approach seems to offer a firmer place of rest. Buddhist breath-counting gathers the spirit outward, a view the original text immediately criticizes as the perspective of an outsider. Here, although the breath is also the object of focus, the practitioner does not leave the Dantian (the lower abdominal region where internal alchemy, or neidan, is practiced).

Next, lower your gaze to observe and draw the mind downward, as if restraining a wild ape or a galloping horse, so that the breath returns to the "earthen cauldron" (a metaphor for the Dantian). Then the Qi-fluid will be generated from this. One can test this: if you breathe out through the mouth and nose onto metal or stone, moisture will condense on the surface. If the breath is returned to the single aperture of emptiness, how could it fail to generate Jing and produce Qi? Therefore the ancients said that when the breath arises spontaneously and gathers without dispersing, one may know that Jing has been generated and the medicine has been produced, and that it circulates throughout the body. From this we can see that the teaching of refining Jing to transform Qi is not empty talk.

The so-called "guarding the center and nourishing" (Shouzhong wenyang) is a preliminary practice for people whose foundations are weak and whose Jing, Qi, and Shen have already been depleted. If the Three Treasures of Jing, Qi, and Shen are full, and the body has not suffered the wear it had in childhood, there is no need to begin with guarding the center. One may proceed directly to the "River Chariot" transport (Hechē banyun), a method of guiding the circulation of qi within the body.

Yet I observe that people in the world, when young, are often consumed by strong worldly desires and find it hard to let go of their attachments to loved ones. Even when the body has not yet been depleted, the mind is seldom pure. Only in middle and old age, after being tempered by the hardships of worldly affairs, do they come to understand that, even amid wealth and honor, one cannot truly enjoy happiness, and life remains a source of vexation. How much more so when poverty, sorrow, and all manner of frustration are added. Thus, people resolve to turn toward the Dao and wish to cultivate their innate nature alone, yet they often find that they are already old and frail. At that point, on what should the cultivation of nature and life rely?

Therefore, in my method of the Dao, the stage of "guarding the center" teaches one to settle the mind and gather the spirit so that qi returns to the qi cavity (the place where qi is gathered in cultivation), and the breath comes to rest in the correct central position of the body. It also unites the three kinships (here referring to three internal elements that join in cultivation) into one place, and brings the Five Phases into unity. This practice is meant to recall the outer five senses (the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body), which were once bound by physical constitution and obscured by material desire, along with the inner five spirits (the mental functions within). One no longer lets them race outward and drain blood and essence; instead, they turn inward to nourish the body, filling the whole frame with spirit and returning it purely to the ancestral aperture (the key point in inner alchemy). When this is sustained over time, true yang (a cultivation term for the yang energy that arises within the body) naturally appears. Only then may one employ the work of the River Chariot and apply the methods of raising, lowering, advancing, and retreating the circulation of qi.

If there is only an erection of the outer yang, this is merely the faint first stirring of yang and not true yang. At this stage, one may only use the gaze to guide it upward, and then use intention to lead it back into the pot (the place in cultivation where yang is gathered). One must not rashly circulate the River Chariot. If it is turned too early, before the blood and essence in the joints and bones of the body are sufficient, and one uses intention to drive the qi, it will inevitably scorch the blood and essence of the whole body, and the harm will be considerable.

Moreover, when the mind and intention have not yet settled, the circulation of qi and blood is bound to be obstructed. If the qi and blood are blocked by chaotic, deluded thoughts, carbuncles may form on the back and abscesses may appear in the head. In the lungs there may be lung abscesses, intestinal abscesses, or a bloated, distended abdomen. In the kidney region there may be seminal emission and the leaking away of jīng (essence) and blood, or conditions such as yangmei sores (syphilitic sores) and kidney abscesses. In general, this is because water cannot restrain fire. As the water qi grows ever more depleted, the fire qi flares ever more fiercely, and its momentum becomes impossible to check. The calamity of fire raging through the body is one that cultivators must be wary of. Even a person of pure temperament and a calm spirit may not necessarily reach this state, yet at the very least there may be blurred vision, ringing in the ears, or a restless, confused mind, and so one must never act rashly.

Only when the dāntián (Dantian, the cultivation site beneath the navel) truly produces a warm qi, and this qi surges upward so that a white light is visible all the way from the navel to the eyes and brows, recurring two or three times to confirm that the situation is genuine, may one practice "river-chariot circulation" (hé chē bān yùn, a method of guiding inner qi upward and downward along the channels). The qi must be ascending full and vigorous, not a false yang that has merely risen to the surface. In particular, one must understand that true yang qi (zhēn yáng zhī qì, referring in cultivation contexts to full and forceful yang energy) is supremely strong and vigorous. Only when the qi of the Dantian is clearly surging can the pathways be opened. At that point, there is no need to exert excessive force in guiding the qi upward or downward.

Furthermore, the blood and qi of the human body naturally circulate within it, and there is no conflict between them. Since people began to have private desires and anxious thoughts, these have disturbed body and mind, preventing the qi and blood from following their natural course and flowing freely through the body. Therefore, before cultivation one must first gather in body and mind, making oneself upright and solemn, and draw the five sense organs and all the hundred bones of the body inward into the Dantian. Once the mind is pure, the breath is calm, and the essence and qi are abundant, the qi and blood will naturally pour through the whole body and circulate without cease.

When circulating qi, if one does not guide the movement of qi with the mind's intent, one worries that the mind-spirit (shen) will scatter and the breath will become disordered. Yet if circulation continues too long it may become excessive, and if too short it may be insufficient. Either way, the true essence (zhenjing) cannot return to the Central Yellow Proper Position (zhonghuang zhengwei), the place in the middle of the body where the elixir qi gathers, and the body then struggles to sustain itself over the long term. In such cases one need only apply very gentle guidance by intent, allowing the breath to flow with ordinary respiration and to accord with the rhythms of Heaven and Earth. In this way the qi of the blended Yin and Yang will naturally nourish the Neidan (internal alchemy), condense the elixir embryo (dantai), and bring about a body that does not age.

The "returning to youth" (fanlao huantong) spoken of in Daoism does not mean obtaining something one never possessed. It means following and nurturing the root of life that a person already has, so that body and mind are restored to the state of an infant at birth.

Practitioners must also understand methods such as "Zi advances the Yang Fire, Wu withdraws the Yin Talisman, and Mao and You bathe" (zi jin yang huo, wu tui yin fu, mao you muyu), which use the hours of the day to represent the stages of advance, withdrawal, and quiet nourishment in the circulation of qi during internal alchemy. One must first examine whether the true Yang qi has truly stirred and is free of disorder. Then, from the Guizhong (the Central Mean, the point where attention is held), one gently guides this true Yang qi through the inner kidney channel, over the Lower Bridge, and upward through the gates of the coccyx (weilü), the spine's flanks (jiaji), and the Jade Pillow (yuzhen), until it reaches the Niwan Palace (Mud Pellet Palace), the Upper Dantian spoken of in relation to the head. It is then led to the Yintang point, descends along the Chonglou (the throat) to the Jiangong (Crimson Palace), the heart, and finally is returned to the Dantian. Through continual nourishing and refining in this manner, the Neidan is able to condense.

The number and measure of the microcosmic orbit (zhoutian) circulations should follow some standard and yet should not rigidly cling to a fixed count.

In general, both within a single day and across a single year, there are twelve double-hours (shichen). From the Zi hour through the Si hour are six yang hours, and in each one counts up to thirty-six, for a total of two hundred and sixteen counts. From the Wu hour through the Hai hour are six yin hours, and in each one counts up to twenty-four. The Mao and You hours are times of "bathing" (muyu), so they are excluded from the count. Together these make three hundred counts for one full circuit of the heavens (zhoutian). This is what is called the "Lesser Heavenly Cycle River Chariot" (xiao zhoutian hecheng), a cultivation method that uses the movement of inner qi as its metaphor.

At the beginning, one may manage only one or two circuits in a night. With practice, three or five become possible, and with still more practice, as many as fifteen. At this stage the great medicine is about to form and the River Chariot is about to stop. Yet six signs must still appear before one may cease the practice: gold light appears in the eyes, the nose twitches, wind sounds in the ears, a cry like that of an eagle is heard behind the head, a light like a fire pearl glows in the Dantian (the energy center in the lower abdomen where Neidan, or internal alchemy, is practiced), and a sound like thunder rumbles in the belly. Only once these signs have appeared may one stop the fire and proceed to the Greater Heavenly Cycle work of passing through the barriers over seven days.

This is what is meant by the union of Dragon and Tiger and the emergence of the Yellow Sprout, which is the process of the Lesser River Chariot practice. It is also called the Hundred-Day Foundation-Building (bairi zhuji), a period of practice that firmly establishes the root, through which the elixir of non-aging is refined. If one's cultivation of the mind and nature is already thoroughly mature, as with Cao Huanyang, who refined the great elixir in less than fifty days, then "a hundred days" is only a rough indication of time. Likewise, "River Chariot" is a general term. A wise person should grasp its meaning and cultivate in accordance with the measure of nature.

For ordinary people, however, a definite measure of counts must be specified, so that they do not practice blindly out of ignorance and fail in the end to form the elixir. When the yang fire is first advanced, the yang qi is still tender. By the Yin hour, the count approaches one hundred, and the yang momentum is so strong that it seems impossible to check. At this point one must circulate the qi with a mind that is both intentional and unintentional, which is what is meant by "bathing at Mao can form the elixir."

When the Yang fire is advanced (jin yang huo), the yang qi is still tender and weak. By around the Yin hour (yin shi, the traditional period from 3 to 5 a.m.), the firing timing (huo hou) approaches its hundredth count, and the yang qi must be surging strongly. At this stage the practice must be carried out between intention and non-intention, and this is called "bathing at Mao" (mao mu yu), the Mao hour (5 to 7 a.m.).

When the talisman is withdrawn (tui fu), one must use the yang qi to lead the qi back to the Earth Cauldron (tu fu), a term in internal alchemy that refers to the central point of refinement within the body, guided entirely by true intention (zhen yi). Before and after noon, the yang qi is not yet strong. By the You hour (you shi, 5 to 7 p.m.), the return of the yang qi has reached its extreme, and one must then let the circulation proceed entirely according to nature. This is called "bathing at Mao and You" (mao you mu yu).

One should also know that the fire rises from Yin and its resting place is at the Xu hour (xu shi, 7 to 9 p.m.). I dare not reveal every subtle principle here all at once; those who aspire to cultivation may come to understand the true meaning of these things through their own experience.

The method of the Small Water Wheel (xiao he che), a stage in the movement of qi within internal alchemy, is roughly as described above, and it also belongs to the stage of "refining Jing into Qi" (lian jing hua qi), transforming essence into vital energy. How does one know that the essence has been fully transformed into qi? The external yang (wai yang, the external genitals) contracts completely, and the essence orifice (jing qiao, the opening through which essence and qi enter and leave) also closes. If even a fraction of the essence has not been fully refined, the external yang will not contract and the essence orifice will not close. Then the qi cannot gather, and it cannot transform to produce the six kinds of spiritual efficacy. These are all essential secrets transmitted orally and from mind to mind (kou chuan xin shou). A practitioner who follows this practice, neither forcing it nor letting it lapse into neglect, will be able to grasp this path of cultivation.

The practice of the Greater Circulation (da zhou tian).

The practices I described earlier, "refining jing into qi" (lianjing huaqi) and circulating the "microcosmic orbit" (xiao zhoutian), guiding qi through the body's meridians in a circuit, both draw on what the human body already possesses. Through repeated cultivation within the body itself, one restores the primordial qi that was originally complete.

Human beings are born with abundant primordial qi. Only after knowledge and desire begin to form does the qi of one's temperament obscure it, and external things and desires continually stir it, so that the primordial qi scatters and cannot return to its root and restore its destiny. The practitioner must use the unified, undivided primordial qi to gather the qi within the body, gradually bringing it back to purity and oneness. After a long time, jing is naturally produced and qi is transformed accordingly, thereby preserving the physical form. This is what the alchemical classics mean by "seeking the mystery in the water palace, the two phases yield the elixir" (shuifu qiu xuan, er hou de dan).

During "foundation-building in a hundred days" (baiyi zhuji), a sustained period that consolidates the root, as well as in refining jing into qi and in using the "river chariot" (hecheng), the method of moving qi along the channels, the practitioner must not be drawn out by external things, and the mind must not be tainted by stray thoughts. The body should be still like withered wood, and the intent quiet like cold ash, so that all thoughts cease and one reaches the "emptiness of the five aggregates" (wuyun jie kong), no longer clinging to the form, sensation, perception, mental formations, and consciousness that constitute body and mind. Practicing diligently in this way, without the slightest deviation, one harmonizes the water and fire qi within the body and pairs lead with mercury. The dragon and tiger no longer fight, and the turtle and snake merge into one.

At first, when the true lead (zhen qian) appears, it is like the moon rising from the geng direction, with only a thread of light. The qi is still weak and its substance not yet mature. Only when the yang of the lead appears should one advance and retreat the fire timing (huohou) according to the method of practice. When essence has accumulated over a long period and the work of foundation-building and refining the self is complete, the qi gradually fills and flows freely, warming like melting ice and surging like a rising tide. It flows ceaselessly through the whole body with a momentum that cannot be checked.

Then one turns to "refining qi to transform shen" (lianqi huashen), following the secret of "taking the elixir at the seven-and-a-half-day pass" (qiri banguo fushi) and employing the secret of "five dragons presenting the sage" (wulong peng sheng). The practitioner must seize the moment within present awareness, allowing subtle workings to appear naturally. Once the yang stirs and the great medicine (da yao) takes form, one gently lifts and quietly circulates, using a faint intention to move the qi mechanism and turn the pivot of transformation, so that water and fire naturally merge into one qi.

The oral formula says: gather the hun and po according to proper method, and rely on skilled practice to govern changes that are subtle and hard to grasp. Be certain that shen (spirit-consciousness) drives qi, and qi drives the body, so that the breath nourishes the whole person. Use the fire timing (huohou) to refine lead, then refine mercury with lead, so that the three (usually jing, qi, and shen) come together.

When practice reaches this stage, it is like a dragon nurturing its pearl or a hen brooding over her eggs: attention is kept steady, day and night, never forgotten. In this way the Primordial One Qi (xiantian yiqi) naturally appears and merges with the yin essence of the Li palace (the southern position in the Bagua, which symbolizes fire), becoming a single whole, so that one cannot tell whether shen has transformed into qi or qi into shen. This does not come from deliberate visualization or intentional effort. It happens spontaneously, and practitioners themselves cannot explain how.

The ancients said, "In the night, the chaotic realm suddenly settles, and myriad phenomena appear vividly, yet one is entirely unaware." This describes exactly such a moment. In general, the fire timing of the Lesser Heavenly Circuit (xiaozhou tian, the internal alchemy practice that runs along the Du and Ren channels) is divided into gentle fire (wenhuo) and martial fire (wuhuo), and its changes can be grasped through the yin and yang lines and the measure of lightness and heaviness. The fire timing of the Greater Heavenly Circuit, however, does not rest on fixating on any particular operation, nor on mere emptiness. At first it seems to rest neither in being nor in non-being, but over time it returns to great stillness (dading), a deep tranquility.

Thus the mercury nature, which would otherwise easily scatter (symbolizing the tendency of shen and qi to flow outward), no longer scatters. It finally condenses into a single mass with the luster of purple-gold frost, complete and stable. The phrase "behind the elbow, the flying golden essence enters the Mud Pellet Palace" (zhou hou fei jin jing ru Niwan), which describes directing essence and qi along the back to the Niwan palace in the head, followed by "drawing lead and adding mercury" (chou qian tian gong), which uses lead and mercury as metaphors for the union of yin and yang essence and qi, describes the scene of the Greater Heavenly Circuit as it leads to the formation of the great elixir.

Earlier, the practice of "refining essence to transform qi" (lian jing hua qi) meant producing a single point of primordial True Lead in the Lower Dantian (the cultivation center below the abdomen). At this stage the Lower Dantian fills up, and the abdomen swells as if pregnant. The True Lead is then drawn out entirely and used to nourish the True Mercury. When the Greater Cosmic Circuit (da zhou tian, a method of cultivation through the circulation of qi throughout the whole body) begins to operate, one need only observe the space in front of the body and attend to the qi moving toward the left. After long observation in this way, the nature of the Lead becomes pure and the Mercury qi becomes abundant, and shen and qi blend in smooth harmony. This is the sign of "refining mercury to transform shen" (lian gong hua shen).

At this level of practice, the text says, the hundred channels naturally come to rest and embryonic breathing (tai xi, the deep, fine breathing state of cultivation) also ceases. One can then live without end and become a Human Immortal (ren xian). However, during the earlier stage of passing through the gates and taking in elixirs, the breath may cut off, leaving the practitioner as if dead. Without accumulating good deeds and cultivating the heart-mind, one may encounter demonic obstacles and lose one's life. Therefore, one must first examine the state of one's heart-mind and make it free of the slightest stray thought or impurity before undertaking this great work and forging the Elixir of Jade Fluid (yu ye zhi dan). Since ancient times, many immortal masters refused to disclose this method, fearing that treacherous people would steal it and misuse it.

If one cultivates only the "life work" (ming gong) within the dual cultivation of nature and life, without studying the "nature learning" (xing xue, the cultivation of the heart-mind), then even if demons do not disturb the practice, one may still be entangled by worldly desires and fail to remove craving and habitual tendencies. Such a person resembles a fox spirit or serpent demon, bringing considerable harm to the world.

In sum, to forge the Elixir of Jade Fluid, one must understand what depletes the spirit. Eating too much clouds the mind; eating while hungry injures the shen; sleeping too long dulls the spirit; overindulging in activity disturbs it; speaking too much drains it; excessive thinking unsettles it; and too many desires scatter it. These harms to the spirit, along with improper speech and diet, should all be given up early. Only when the heart-mind keeps a single numinous awareness operating on its own can it become focused and clear.

Within the heart lies a numinous spirit (ling). When the gaze turns inward to illuminate the self, the breath is gathered inside, and the vitality of the tongue is likewise drawn in and nourished. The four limbs move according to a set rhythm, while the mind-spirit (shen) reflects back upon itself and remains pure and still. At first one must exert effort to maintain this, but after a long time it operates of its own accord. In motion, the inner heart is not disturbed; in stillness, it is not stagnant. Upon reaching the extreme of emptiness, one still embraces a full vitality. In this way, attaining the Returned Elixir (huandan, the condensation of true qi in internal alchemy) is not difficult.

Re-Refining the Learning of Emptiness

The refining of qi and the refining of shen described above involve re-establishing the furnace and cauldron (a metaphor in internal alchemy, or neidan) within the body, and refining the true yin of the Li trigram in the Middle Field (zhongtian, a bodily region referred to in neidan practice). This is what the ancients called "cultivating stillness in the Palace of Li" (li gong xiu ding). At this stage, the jing (essence) has been wholly transformed into lead (qian). Lead is then used to refine mercury (gong), so that the lead and mercury are firmly enclosed and do not scatter, finally fusing into one. After long cultivation, the Yang Spirit (yang shen, the pure yang consciousness spoken of in cultivation) manifests, rising from the Crimson Palace (jiang gong, the cultivation site in the heart region) to the Mud Pellet (Niwan, the cultivation site in the head). Suddenly a radiant light bursts forth and shoots into the heavens. In an instant, one seems able to travel the Five Lakes and Nine Provinces and the myriad states, and the mysteries of this experience are beyond words.

Yet before cultivating ming (life), one must first see clearly into the root of the mind. Before a person is born, their nature (xing) is complete, luminous, clear, and empty, containing nothing. After entering the world, the various forms and attachments all arise from a single thought. Moreover, external things, such as beautiful wives and concubines, fine jade and gold, and all splendid and lovely things, all come from external conditions. Even if one possesses them, they are like dreams, bubbles, and shadows, unable to last. Therefore one must cultivate a broad vision and an open heart: not only regard external things as external, but also regard one's own body as an illusory form. Only that constant, clear, and serene true nature within is the "self" that neither arises nor perishes and endures forever. To attain this, one must not let a single speck of dust adhere outwardly or mix a single thought inwardly. One should constantly be aware of one's own pure, numinous, empty, and wondrous nature, so that it endures together with heaven and earth.

Once one has truly attained this state, with no worldly dust clinging to the outside and no stray thought mixing into the mind within, constantly observing and preserving the nature that is clear, numinous, empty, still, and wondrously aware, one can then join Heaven and Earth in their beginning and end. When cultivation reaches this state of maturity, the vast and lofty qi (vital energy) fills the space between past and present. At this point, after ten months of gestation, the Yang Spirit (the spirit body formed in cultivation, existing outside the physical body) matures and manifests, rises out of the physical body, and comes into being between Heaven and Earth. Only then may it be allowed to wander freely and roam beyond the mundane world.

If one has not previously practiced nature cultivation (xinggong, "cultivating the mind and nurturing the nature," clarifying and awakening to one's original nature) and has instead begun from the Life Palace (mingong) to refine the Yang Spirit, then once the Yang Spirit emerges, it must be quickly withdrawn. This is because the mind-nature is not yet clear, and worldly emotions and desires have not yet been cut off. At the sight of what is desirable one rejoices, and at the encounter with what is frightening one fears; the seven emotions and six desires may all disturb the heart. If it is not withdrawn in time, one fears that a single moment's lapse may allow demons and spirits to seize the hun and po souls, and it will never return. Even if no such calamity befalls, one should know that once a thought arises, one may fall into the womb of a horse or an ox, or be reborn among people, and these outcomes are difficult to foresee. Those who do not understand suppose that, once such a person's Yang Spirit has left the body, he will surely ascend to immortality; they do not realize that he may be reborn through delusive thoughts or be seized by demons, and the harm he suffers is no light matter.

At this stage, one has endured countless hardships and refinements before forming "a body beyond the body." Yet because one has not yet reached refining emptiness (lianxu, the further stage of cultivation in which attachments are dissolved and one returns to stillness and emptiness), one still cannot escape calamity, which is truly regrettable. Having reached this point, those who did not previously cultivate nature especially must continue practicing: inwardly nurturing the mind-heart, and outwardly accumulating yin merit (quiet virtuous deeds performed without seeking fame). They must clearly recognize and firmly hold to the originally luminous nature, not rejoice rashly, and not frequently send the Yang Spirit outward. Even if doing so brings no calamity, the Yang Spirit will still run outward and cannot truly be mastered by oneself.

At this stage, one must again set up the spirit furnace (the furnace image of refinement and nourishment) and re-establish the spirit cauldron (the cauldron vessel that symbolizes refinement). The Yangshen (yang spirit, the spirit consciousness formed through practice) that has already been cultivated is then returned to the Palace of the Eight Luminosities in the Niwan (the inner-cultivation realm in the head), where it is nourished constantly, as if present yet absent. In this way one practices the stage of Huanxu (returning to the void). Above all, the previously cultivated Yuanshen (primordial spirit) must be fully melted into formlessness, so that the practitioner no longer perceives the existence of spirit and no longer distinguishes between "spirit is void" and "void is spirit."

This is like what Zhuangzi described, when Zhuang Zhou dreamed of becoming a butterfly and the butterfly became Zhuang Zhou again, so that one could not tell which was the butterfly and which was Zhuang Zhou. The two are fused into a single whole, and their boundary cannot be distinguished. This is the meaning of "returning to the void." If a practitioner cannot yet realize that their own spirit is the void of Taixu (Supreme Void), and that the void of Taixu is their own spirit, and spirit and void have not yet merged into one, then they should not lightly allow the Yangshen to leave the body.

Yet all things have form, and only the "void" has no form. All things have names, and only the "void" has no name. Heaven and earth are vast and the four seas are broad, and there is no person, thing, or plant within them that is not contained by the void. This is what makes it so difficult to conceive. When a practitioner reaches this realm, they may ascend the Dharma seat together with the Great Awakened Tathagata (the Buddha who has attained perfect enlightenment in Buddhism). Only after possessing such a realm and comprehending its causal conditions may one move the spirit out of its dwelling (causing the spirit consciousness to leave the body) and change form and shed the shell (leave the original physical form). One may then employ the Great Return of the Golden Elixir Liquid (a Daoist internal-alchemy term referring to higher-level refinement methods). In this way, one will not be troubled by demonic intrusion.

It is not so. After passing through countless kalpas, a person may still carry unresolved grievances from past lives. If the practitioner cannot clearly transcend the mundane world and thoroughly see through the crucial juncture of life and death, they are easily assailed by demonic obstructions (mózhàng). Demons may take the form of a woman or a fierce vengeful ghost, or appear as halls and pavilions, gold, jade, and silk, or as all manner of worldly fame and wealth, and even as immortals or armies. At such times, those whose minds have not truly awakened rarely avoid being deluded, as if their souls had been seized. Therefore, Lianxu (liànxū, "refining the void," the cultivation that clarifies the mind-spirit (xīn-shén) and transcends illusion) is an indispensable step for the Daoist practitioner.

However, if one merely sits in stillness every day, ignoring human affairs and remaining indifferent to the worries and toils of the world, one still cannot fully realize the nature innate in a person or attain a boundless realm. Moreover, one who speaks of becoming an immortal without merit will not be counted among the Great Awakened Immortals (dàjué xiān), let alone ascend to the Great Luo Heaven (Dàluó Tiān), the highest heaven in Daoist cosmology. This is because those who cultivate only for themselves, remain cold and unfeeling, and violate human relationships and moral duties will not be approved by the celestial immortals, and so they cannot be admitted to the ranks of the immortals.

Those who study the Dao must be earnest in human relationships and observe social order, accumulate hidden virtue (yīndé), and extend the duties inherent in their nature. They should regard the common people as their compatriots and all things as their companions, thereby filling out the realm their nature can contain. They should assist Heaven and Earth in nurturing the growth of all things, thereby establishing the achievements inherent in their nature. Only then can one hope to stand alongside Heaven and Earth and become a standard for the world. Why worry about not becoming an immortal?

The Order of Cultivation Stages (Xiūliàn Cìdì)

The process of cultivation moves from the coarse and shallow toward the subtle and refined, and from "you" (being, the realm of form) back to "wu" (non-being, the realm of emptiness). Each stage of practice goes deeper than the last. The order cannot be skipped, reversed, or thrown into confusion. This book keeps the metaphors that the ancients commonly used, though it does not discard them entirely. Compared with the ancients' frequent use of veiled language and indirect writing, this book speaks more plainly.

Those who study cultivation, even if they cannot reach the highest attainment for the time being, should still personally pass through each stage in turn and must not violate this order. This is like walking: the farther one is from home, the more carefully one must make one's way back, step by step from the distance. One cannot, simply because home is far away, go straight indoors.

If a person is endowed with deep innate roots and complete natural capacity, it is as though they have never left the doorway of home. They turn around and arrive, and a single thought of return brings them back to the origin. Such a person need not be bound to the sequence of methods. Yet those who can do this have been few among the immortals since antiquity, let alone ordinary people. If someone truly exists whose jing (essence) and qi (vital energy) are full and whose mind-nature is clear and penetrating, able to reach supreme nirvana directly (liberation from birth and death and attainment of the ultimate state), I would naturally envy them greatly. But since the Three Dynasties, such people have been truly rare.

In sum, there is no lack of subtlety within the coarse and shallow, and "you" also contains "wu." Considered separately, cultivation has three stages. Considered together, all of them return to the single point of the innate true yang (the vital essence that is present within a person from birth).

The so-called "refining Jing into Qi" (lian jing hua qi) does not mean that the body contains some other kind of Jing or Qi. It means gathering the Jing and Qi that a person already possesses but which are depleted and dissipated through sensual pleasure and the pursuit of wealth and fame, and returning them to the Dantian (dantian), so as to restore a body and mind as pure as an infant's.

However, this is still a quality of Qi formed in posterior heaven (houtian), and one cannot attain unsurpassed bodhi through it alone. Clear and turbid elements are mixed within it, and purity and impurity coexist, so even when cultivation reaches a very high level, it ultimately cannot escape dissolution. One must therefore refine from it a little "true lead" (zhen qian) and keep training it with a fire that is neither too fast nor too slow. In practice, one distinguishes between "civil fire" (wenhuo) and "martial fire" (wuhuo). The method advances and retreats, and is regulated through means such as "bathing" and "nourishing warmth," so that the lead refines the mercury and ultimately forms the elixir. The commentary explains that this is "extracting the lead and adding the mercury": take the yang from the Kan trigram and fill the yin of the Li trigram. Through long cultivation, the yin is exhausted and the yang made pure, transforming into the body of the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji), which is neither yin nor yang yet is both at once. This is called "true existence within non-existence" (wu zhong zhi zhen you), and through it one establishes one's destiny (li ming). Advancing further, even existence returns to the Ultimate of Non-being (Wuji), and nature and life are fully perfected. This is called "true non-existence within existence" (you zhong zhi zhen wu). Patriarch Changchun said: "At first, apply the mind to cultivation; after a long time the mind becomes empty. Once the mind is empty, the nature-substance manifests, and the great matter is then complete." This is what the passage means.

The practitioner must also nurture the "infant" (ying'er), restoring the state in which, at the moment of the parents' first union, spirit (shen) and Qi condensed into a single mass. At this point they are wholly unified and abundantly vital. Although bodily form and appearance remain, there is no discriminating thought. When cultivation reaches this stage, it is like a nine-story pagoda having been completed. Yet it is still the true yang of posterior heaven, and differs from the primordial One Qi (xiantian yiqi). The primordial One Qi is vast and boundless yet subtle and without interior. It does not accumulate by entering, nor scatter by leaving.

Therefore one must advance further in refinement, cultivating through constant nurturing and tempering, until the embryonic infant (taiying, the inner image of life formed through cultivation), which has visible form and color, is refined to a state of subtle transformation. At this stage one perceives neither Qi (vital energy, the fundamental substance of life and all things) nor Shen (spirit). It is as though one has returned to that single point of primordial, empty Qi before life took form. It cannot be seen, heard, or grasped, and it seems not to exist. Yet once the inner functions are set in motion, Shen intention moves with them and fills the cosmos without any gap. To say it does not exist is wrong, for when the function operates, Shen intention moves through and fills the universe. To say it does exist is also wrong, for it is utterly still and empty, and there is not a single thread or grain that can be grasped. When cultivation reaches this stage, one returns from Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate, the source from which the myriad things arise before yin and yang separate) to Wuji (the Limitless, the original state without differentiation, form, or image).

Otherwise, if one clings only to acquired Jing and Qi without understanding the principle of the transformation of prior-heaven Shen, one will end in lifeless sitting and empty stillness. If one speaks only of prior-heaven Shen transformation without cultivating acquired Jing and Qi, one will at last fall into hollow sluggishness. Having understood that prior and posterior heaven must be united, and that nature and life must be cultivated together (xingming shuangxiu, dual cultivation of nature and life), one must not skip stages or reverse their proper order. Otherwise cultivation becomes chaotic and confused. Even if one enters the Dao, one may lean toward one extreme, fail to hold to the Middle Way, and ultimately be unable to enter the gate of the immortals and sages.

I now transmit this essential Way not out of haste or reckless impulse, but because unorthodox schools (pangmen) are flourishing and heterodox paths (zuodao) are multiplying. Each divides itself into factions, insists on its own single doctrine, and reproaches the Ways of the others. Only after repeated and urgent requests, and under a mandate, did I reluctantly write this Daomen Yaoyu (Essentials of the Daoist School), to serve as a guide for Daoist practitioners of future generations. I hope that those who aspire to this Way will also understand my intent.

Understand the practice of refining the self (lianji gongfu).

The two characters xing (nature) and ming (life) differ in name but are one in substance, which is why our Daoist school speaks of the dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu). Take the practice of "guarding the center" (shouzhong, keeping hold of the harmonious state within). Although one must gather the scattered qi and return it to the Dantian (energy center), in order to refine the Yang qi of primordial heaven, if one does not dispel distracting thoughts and false imaginings and sweep away every worldly attachment, how can the breath constantly return to its root and the mind-spirit remain perpetually still?

Likewise, when true Yang stirs, one takes the true lead (zhenqian, the Yang qi concealed within Yin) from the Kan trigram and refines the Yin mercury (yinhong, the Yin qi contained within Yang) from the Li trigram. One performs the ascending and descending work of the Zi and Wu meridians (circulating the qi in accord with the hours), and applies the methods of bathing and nourishing (regulating the breath and gently tempering the qi), in order to refine the self and lay the foundation (lianji zhuji, cultivating the mind-heart and securing the base). If one does not wash away anxious thoughts and cleanse the heart, forget desire and cut off stray notions, restrain anger and craving, and remove evil intent while preserving sincerity, then how can water and fire be harmonized and Yin and Yang be joined, so that the Black Pearl, as small as a grain of millet (a metaphor for the condensing of the inner elixir), is formed and the embryonic infant (taiying, the name for the elixir embryo in inner alchemy) is nurtured and grown? This belongs to the cultivation of life, and the cultivation of nature is contained within it.

When the Mysterious Female (xuanpin, the critical point where Yin and Yang unite and the elixir embryo is gestated) begins to conceive one another, and the elixir first shows its form, one enters the stage of a hundred days of foundation-building, and one must also practice the Great Cosmic Circulation (dazhou tian). At this time one must gather the mind-spirit, clear away scattered thoughts, lessen desire, and clarify the heart, nourishing with gentle fire until the Mysterious Yellow Supreme Treasure (an inner-alchemical term for the most refined essence attained) is completed. If one does not join the spirit-fire of non-action (wuwei) with the true mechanism of purposeful action, circulating the rising and falling and refining again and again, then one cannot forge the Yang spirit (the pure Yang spirit produced by cultivation) or break through the Heavenly Gate.

Once the Yang spirit has been produced and the Great Elixir has returned, one must employ the divine cauldron and divine furnace, the true fire and true medicine, and refine repeatedly within the Muddy Ball Palace (nihuan gong, the cultivation site in the head in inner alchemy). If one says only that one must reach utmost stillness and do nothing, and that the elixir will then rise on its own into the nine heavens and return to the Great Elixir, I fear that even a person of the highest natural gifts could not, by empty stillness and non-action alone, ride the crane and become an immortal. Although this stage is cultivation of nature, it also contains the cultivation of life.

In general, xing (nature) refers to the innate yuanshen (primordial spirit), the original spiritual essence present from birth, and ming (life) refers to the innate yuanqi (primordial vital qi), the life energy present from birth. Both have their root in Heaven, and both are actually possessed within oneself. Dividing them into two items is only a way to give beginners a general understanding. In the end, viewed separately they are two, and taken together they form one whole. If a practitioner of the Dao does not grasp this principle and cultivates only one aspect, the practice is not the balanced and centered Way of cultivation but drifts into a one-sided path.

Someone asked: "The master has already explained the Way of holding the center in great detail. One 'center' lies within the body, and another 'center' does not. The teaching transmitted from Yao, Shun, and Yu was only the phrase yunzhi juezhong (sincerely hold fast to the centrally correct Way). Holding the center runs through the whole of practice, a lifelong task that even a practitioner of the Dao cannot fully exhaust. These principles are already clear, so they need not be taught again. But how exactly should the xiao zhoutian (Lesser Heavenly Cycle) be distinguished from the da zhoutian (Greater Heavenly Cycle)?"

The master replied: "The Lesser Heavenly Cycle is the huohou (fire timing) of kanli jiaogou (the union of Kan and Li, using the union of water and fire as an image of the interpenetration of yin and yang). It is the time when the waiyao (outer medicine, a more preliminary image of the elixir) is produced. A day and night are divided into twelve double-hours, and practice is possible at any time so long as yang qi is stirring. The Pure Yang Patriarch said: 'When the first yang begins to stir, the night is deep and long; in the warm lead cauldron, light breaks through the curtain.' This means that when yang qi first begins to move, it is the deep of night. Warmth gathers in the lead cauldron, and light shines through the curtain. It refers to the time when jing qi is generated and the medicinal substances first appear, the proper moment for the heche (river chariot, an image of circulating qi through the body) practice of the Lesser Cycle. If these signs have not yet appeared, one must not act rashly, lest it bring danger.

"The Greater Heavenly Cycle is the time when the neiyao (inner medicine) is formed and the taiying (embryonic infant, an image of the completed elixir in internal alchemy) becomes manifest. The saying 'When yin and yang have finished uniting, a single point descends into the Huangting (the Yellow Court, the inner landscape of the body's middle region in Daoist internal cultivation)' refers to this stage. Here one need only neither approach nor depart, neither forget nor force, and with a fine, unbroken mind, keep practicing single-mindedly, without interruption, day and night. Guangchengzi said: 'Stop toiling at the alchemical furnace and the river chariot; the crane's embryonic breath and the turtle's breathing continue on and on.' Zhang Xian said: 'All day dim and dazed like a drunkard, I leisurely guard the spring within the cavern.' These words describe the function of the Lesser and Greater Cycles. One should not stubbornly drive the furnace and the chariot, but let the breath be long and natural, like the crane's embryonic breathing and the turtle's breath. Resting quietly and absorbed all day, like a drunkard, one simply and leisurely guards the inner vitality."

Small and great circulations each serve a different purpose. From this we can see that cultivation begins with deliberate effort and ends in Wuwei (non-action). Once one reaches the state of non-action, nothing remains that cannot be accomplished, and this is what counts as attaining the Dao.

Practitioners must first perfect lianji (refining the self, cultivating the mind-heart and making body and mind pure and steady) before undertaking the work of non-action. Only then will they avoid serious danger. If refining the self has not yet reached maturity and one begins practice rashly, the danger is beyond measure. One must first clearly distinguish huohou (fire control, the timing and degree of response during practice) and correctly recognize the yaowu (medicinal substances, the elements such as jing, qi, and shen in Neidan practice). One should neither slacken and neglect the work nor rush it. Above all, one should diligently cultivate merit and do many good deeds. Above, this can move the gods and spirits to take notice; below, it can dissolve the dangers of demonic obstructions. Only then is there hope that, once attainment is achieved, it can be preserved for a long time without falling into perilous paths.

The fundamentals of life and nature, and the principle of dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu), have already been explained with great clarity. Yet later scholars still cling to one side: some cultivate nature without cultivating life, others cultivate life without cultivating nature. Each guards their own school and disparages the others. This truly reflects a shallow affinity with the immortal Dao. As for small and great circulation, the inner and outer medicines, and the inner and outer fires, the text has also outlined these principles in general terms. Scholars may draw inferences from these and, by analogy, carefully discern the signs of practice so that their understanding does not go astray.

Since ancient times, immortals and great sages such as Zhang and Lü have all relied on utmost sincerity to move the gods and spirits. Only after such repeated efforts did they complete the work of life. As for the study of nature, these two immortals once gazed up to heaven and sighed continuously, and only afterward received transmission from an immortal, ultimately becoming Dongzhen (Perfected of the Highest Cavern) immortals. Later scholars who are fortunate enough to receive such authentic transmission should surely strive to practice diligently.

Distinguishing the functions of fire control and medicinal substances.

Before the elixir is formed, the hardest thing to master is the external fire timing (waihuohou). After the elixir is formed, the hardest thing to master is the internal fire timing (neihuohou). The external fire timing is the body's breathing. The internal fire timing is the primordial breath (yuanxi), the inner pre-heaven breath that appears naturally after the breathing has become even, seemingly present and yet absent.

In brief, external breathing, though visible and perceptible, must ultimately return to natural non-action (wuwei). The internal primordial breath, though it seems not to exist, must not be treated as something actually present. If one forces the "non-existent" into being something "existent," then the primordial breath cannot be sensed, and even the external breathing loses its harmony.

The Mirror for Entering the Elixir (Rudan Jing) says, "Heaven responds to the stars; earth responds to the tides." This explains the external fire timing. Zhang Boduan, the Perfected of Ziyang, says, "There is a natural, true fire timing; it requires no fuel, no charcoal, and no bellows-like breathing." This explains the internal fire timing. We should understand that although the fire timing is divided into internal and external kinds, at root they are one and the same: both are nothing more than breath that is continuous, fine, and naturally interfused. Laozi says, "Dim and dimly, it seems to endure; use it, and it is never exhausted." Cui Gong says, "Pre-heaven Qi and post-heaven Qi: whoever attains them seems quite drunk." From this we can see that both the internal and external breathing are states of continuous, fine flow.

If practitioners grasp the essentials of this and let the breath circulate through every part of the body, they will feel its force grow full and its flow unceasing, without pause or interruption. The body becomes relaxed and supple, like soft cotton, and exceedingly comfortable. They will feel only that the breath turns over without end, gently and harmoniously blending: it rises of its own accord and descends gently, opening and closing, going and returning, orderly as the movement of the heavenly bodies.

Cultivators who attain this "true yang fire" (the yang energy spoken of in practice) may find that long-standing stubborn ailments, whether in the limbs on the body's surface or in the internal organs, are driven by the true fire into sweat and expelled through the pores of the entire body. If some illnesses cannot be dissolved, this shows that the fire is still weak and has not yet gained genuine yang qi.

Yang (yang) is associated with vigor and activity. Illness within the body is often explained as a deficiency of yang qi and an excess of yin qi, which over time accumulates into heavy, stubborn conditions. When the true fire is kindled, it is like winter snow and ice meeting the warmth of spring sunshine: even what has been congealed for a long time gradually melts away. The scripture holds that all human illness is formed by the gathering of yin qi, so when yang qi arrives, illness is naturally dissolved as well. The Daoist tradition has no other wondrous method for curing disease. It simply obtains the true yang qi that exists between heaven and earth.

Cultivation also involves methods such as the use of medicinal substances. At the outset, one regulates the coarse breath with breathing exercises so that the primordial qi of heaven and earth returns and is gathered into the dantian (dantian, the cultivation center in the lower abdomen). As days and months accumulate, the conditions for cultivation naturally arise within the body. Then, using the fire of the breath, one refines a single point of innate primordial qi. The ancients called this "the child giving birth to the mother," meaning that a single particle of true gold is produced from within water.

We must understand that the principles governing the movement of heaven and earth all rest in naturalness. Alchemy takes its model entirely from Qian and Kun (the symbols of heaven and earth, yin and yang), and so it too should accord with the laws of nature rather than being forced through willful contrivance.

After Heaven and Earth unite, a single point of the metal nature of the Qian (Heaven) trigram falls into the central line of the Kun (Earth) trigram and transforms into Kan (Water). Kan belongs to water and is cold in nature. Without a divine light shining down from above, the water congeals into cold yin and cannot evaporate, and the true gold cannot rise. Once the yang fire arrives and presses upon it, the water is heated, evaporates, and boils, and the true gold floats upward with it.

The Prior-Heaven true gold was originally concealed in the water. When it is refined by the true fire, it returns to Wuji (the Ultimate Void), and the longer it is refined, the more its light appears. This is what is called "true gold," and it is the elixir (dan) that the human body has possessed from the start. After birth, desires disturb one's nature and deliberation clouds the original heart, so a mass of yin and evil qi covers the true gold. It is like charcoal placed in an ice cellar: it is frozen by yin cold, and its yang qi cannot manifest on its own. Now the true fire refines it, and the Prior-Heaven gold suddenly returns from within Kan. For this reason the school calls it the "outer medicine" (waiyao), though in truth it is something the person already possesses.

From this point on, one yang appears, and it must not be allowed to float, sink, or scatter outside the body, nor be used merely to display cleverness and talent in daily affairs. One must also learn the method by which the immortals circulate the "river chariot" (heche), the practice of guiding true qi up and down through the body. Through this, the true lead is raised to the Li (Fire) palace, where it is used to refine the yin mercury within Li, uniting the two into one and condensing them so that they do not disperse. After long practice, the yin nature within Li is gradually transformed and true yang is born. This is what is called the "inner medicine" (neiyao).

Why must the yin nature within Li necessarily depend on the true yang within Kan? Because Li belongs to fire, and if it does not receive the moderating influence of Kan's water, its fire declines and runs out of control. This shows up as the seven emotions and six desires, and it may even produce all kinds of strange and baseless behavior. Even without such outward oddities, fire that is not restrained by water will disperse outward day and night and cannot be gathered in at all. It is like placing water and fire together: the fire will eventually burn everything away.

People cannot attain long life because their mind and spirit (Shen) keep dissipating, and nothing truly aqueous Qi (Qi) restrains this loss. When spirit and Qi are exhausted, a person dies. In cultivation, one first uses fire of the spirit (shenhuo) to refine downward from Kan, extracting metal (gold) from it. One then joins the metal with water and subdues the fire within Li. Thus the external medicine (waiyao) is produced by the union of Kan and Li, and the internal medicine (neiyao) is gestated by the meeting of Yin and Yang. In the end, everything consists of seeking Yin within Yang and Yang within Yin, so that Yin and Yang combine and complete one another. At this stage, the work needed to achieve the human immortal (renxian) state is in place.

Next, one places the yang spirit (yangshen), the yang-natured spirit produced by cultivation, within the furnace cauldron (luding), and re-establishes Qian and Kun. The spirit born from the harmony of Yin and Yang then ascends to the Mud Pellet Palace (Niwan Gong), the upper dantian (dantian) in the head, and refines a Golden Body (jinshen) that does not decay. There is no further principle behind this. A spirit formed through the meeting of Yin and Yang is always refined from the physical body (seshen), the visible flesh, and so it inevitably still carries heavy, turbid Qi. For this reason it cannot easily rise through the air, ride the mists and clouds, and ascend into emptiness without eventually falling.

Therefore, one must still lift this visible yang spirit up through the empty aperture above the Clear Void (Qingxu), and cultivate it through breathless breathing and spiritless spirit, refining it from the visible to the invisible and from purposive action to non-action (wuwei). This is the stage at which the Golden Elixir (jindan) great medicine is refined through the timing of the fire (huohou) until the substances mature. Put simply, the pure, empty single Yang is paired with a single Yin within Yin and Yang. When cultivation is complete, what appears is only the original Qi (yuanqi) that is naturally present from the beginning. Yet if one examines it closely, it is neither existent nor non-existent. I state this point again: cultivation rests entirely in following what is natural.

Those who study the Way must first understand the root of cultivation, so that they do not practice blindly, act rashly, and bring calamity upon themselves. The generations of immortal masters have consistently refused to reveal this principle lightly. Now I explain it for the people of the world and for later generations, and I hope that readers will treat it with great care.

In the ancient teachings, the first step of cultivation is to understand the "bellows" (tuoyue, a metaphor for methods of regulating body and mind so that spirit and breath gather together). "Gathering the spirit and condensing the breath" means collecting the mind and concentrating the breath. If the spirit is not gathered, it scatters, and if the breath does not condense, it disperses. Shen (spirit) leads qi (vital energy), and qi assists shen. If one does not first gather the spirit, the qi floats outward and cannot condense throughout the body. It is gradually depleted, and illness and death follow. How then could one nourish jing (essence) and qi within the body and refine the "great elixir" (the attainment pursued in neidan, or internal alchemy)?

An ancient saying goes: "When the spirit returns, the qi naturally settles." This effort is indispensable to the practitioner. The "cauldron and furnace" refers to the human body. The "zither and sword" illustrate removing selfish desires and preserving heavenly principle (tianli). The "mysterious female" (xuanpin, the Daoist notion of the profound mechanism of generation and transformation) illustrates how the true mechanism stirs into motion on its own. "Guarding the city" illustrates that the medicinal substance has matured, so one must hold to its proper bounds and nurture it with the control of fire (huohou). "Fighting in the open field" illustrates that when the medicinal substance first emerges, one must use the control of fire to refine it. Though these names differ, they are all figurative images that imply profound principles. Practitioners who persist in these principles without error can, even if they do not reach the realm of the golden immortal (jinxian), dispel illness, prolong their years, and enjoy long life and blessings in the human world.

In sum, cultivation never departs from refining the mind, nor from accumulating merit and forming wide good connections. That a person can enter this practice, fortunately hear the true instructions, and avoid falling into side paths and outside heterodoxies is something for which one cannot know how many lifetimes of diligent hidden virtue and accumulated Dao affinities were required to obtain today's opportunity. Otherwise it would be hard to encounter, and even when encountered, one may still miss it face to face, harboring doubt and belief in equal measure and unable to establish firm conviction and steadiness.

Having met such an immortal affinity, one must first not treat it lightly. One should practice diligently and persevere to the end, as one forges an object in fire, lest one later have to start over from the beginning. If one encounters it but does not practice, or practices without diligence, good affinity will fade and bad affinity will arrive, and in a moment such an opportunity will be gone for good.

Moreover, if one were not living in a great calamity, nor in an age when renowned worthies arise in response to the times every five hundred years, then even after many rounds of rebirth, accumulated good deeds, and established ties to the Dao, one might still fail to hear this Great Way. Unless the time has come and the immortal sages descend, one may not encounter it at all. Now that one has been born at the right moment, has been able to hear the Dao and its methods, and happens to live in an age when the world is at peace, such good fortune is already a gift from Heaven. If, having met such an opportunity, one does not exert oneself in cultivation, then when would one ever do so?

The merits a person accumulates vary in size, and so the realms they attain vary in height; they are not the same for everyone. Refining Jing into Qi and transforming Qi reverses aging and prolongs life, and one may become a Human Immortal (Renxian). Refining Qi into Shen and returning to the Root to restore one's destiny (guiming fuming) allows one to become an Earth Immortal (Dixian). Refining Shen and returning to Emptiness, and nurturing the Shen so that it leaves the shell, allows one to become a Heavenly Immortal (Tianxian). There are different grades among the immortals, yet in the end each must be examined by the heavenly deities according to their merit, who then confer their rank. It is not something that one can decide alone through personal practice.

Next, some people who, while alive, concentrate their minds and cultivate stillness, become after death the Lord of the Spirit Altar (lingtan fazhu), a deity who receives offerings and presides over rituals in the sacred ground. Others, who in life were clever, upright, compassionate, and generous, become after death guardian deities who protect their localities and their country. Still further down, those who vigorously accumulate virtue and do good, planting many fields of blessing (guangzhong futian)—accumulating good fortune for themselves through acts of kindness—or who sacrifice themselves in times of danger and rescue the common people for the sake of the nation, may not become deities, yet are certain to be reborn into the households of emperors and kings. Likewise, those who take pity on orphans and widows and who honor the elderly and aid the poor may in their next life be born into wealthy families; and those who resolve disputes and fund good works may in their next life be born as children of distinguished and prominent houses.

There are many other such good causes. In every case, a person personally performs the good deed and personally receives its corresponding retribution. The heavenly deities merely bestow blessings in accordance with the merit a person has cultivated; they are not the case of the King of Hell (Yanluo Wang) arranging a person's fate on their behalf.

I urge those who seek to study and cultivate the Way (Dao): if you have not yet heard of the great Dao, then so be it. But once you have heard it, you must keep advancing diligently and not stop until you reach the utmost in cultivation. If idleness or weariness arises, turn your thoughts and remind yourself: "I am now fortunate to have encountered the Daoist methods transmitted by the immortal masters (xianjia). If in this life I do not seize the chance to liberate myself now, in which life will I wait to do so? Auspicious moments do not come again, and joyful times cannot last. If I do not cultivate with urgency, I fear I will miss this opportunity, and even after a thousand kalpas of hardship I will scarcely meet it again, and will be swept along by the churning dust of the mortal world. By then, wanting to turn back and leap out will be far harder still."

Constantly keeping such vigilance, one naturally becomes clear in spirit (shen) and full of qi (vital energy), and in cultivation one need not worry about lacking energy. Be sure to keep yourself attentive and reflective, vigorously alert, holding fast and never letting it slip. In this way, those who cultivate with devoted effort will surely receive a response, and those with aspirations will accomplish their undertakings.

As for the secrets of cultivation, though they have not all been fully explained, the key lies in subtle details. So long as one cultivates inwardly the nature and life (xingming), meaning the body, the mind, and the root of life itself, and accumulates merit and goodness outwardly by doing good and storing up virtue in the world, and does not slacken or lose resolve, heavenly spirits (tianshen) will naturally give guidance and transmission. Words spoken privately among people sound like thunder to Heaven, and wrongdoing committed in a dark room is seen by the spirits as clearly as lightning. Would those who diligently cultivate the Dao fail to receive special regard from the heavenly spirits? And would their every arising thought go unknown?

Those who cultivate the Dao need not worry about failing to obtain genuine transmission. They should worry more about receiving that transmission and then not practicing it earnestly. Later students of the Dao should respect these words of mine and be inspired by them to strive.

Xun Jimen Yulu (Recorded Sayings for Admonishing Those Who Have Entered the Gate)

When you practice quiescent sitting meditation (jinggong) and use the methods of ascent and descent, your control has not yet reached the proper degree. Ascent and descent are relatively elementary techniques, but they still follow definite principles. If one rises too high, the Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) will tend to disperse; if one sinks too low, one easily becomes dull and drowsy. If you do not understand that ascent should give way to descent after a long rise, and that descent should turn back to ascent once it reaches its limit, then excessive ascent may give rise to inner fire and illness, while excessive descent may be forced by inner fire into leakage. The harms of these errors are too numerous to list in full.

Ascent and descent are present even in each breath. At the outset, the intention guides the breath downward into the Dantian (the region of the abdomen where internal alchemy, Neidan, is practiced). Next, the intention leads it upward from the Weilü (the lower end of the spine) to the Niwan (the crown of the head). It then descends from the Niwan into the Tufu (another name for the lower Dantian). The ascent and descent within this single inhalation and exhalation are precisely the basis for the three hundred and sixty zhou tian (the cyclical circulation periods of the microcosmic orbit) and for the practice of heche (the method of guiding internal qi along the meridians).

At the beginning, the Gold (jin, the essence-energy and other substances of internal alchemy, neidan) sinks down into the Water Palace (shuifu, the region of the lower Dantian, the energy center below the navel), where it becomes heavy and cannot rise. One must therefore use the fire of martial intensity (wuhuo), driving it with a strong application of intention and breath. Once it has been set in motion and begins to rise, however, the intention must not be too heavy. It must be lifted gently and circulated lightly, as though intending something and yet not intending anything. This is what Mencius meant by "neither forgetting nor helping" (wu wang wu zhu): one does not forget, and one does not force things to grow.

When Shen (spirit) and Qi (breath) have risen, the mind's eye seems clear and unobstructed, and the breast seems as wide as heaven and earth. This resembles the season of spring and summer, when all things grow and unfold. At this stage, the practitioner must not continue to lift the energy upward. If one keeps pushing upward, the Shen and Qi will scatter and cannot be gathered back, and they may eventually be exhausted. For this reason, Daoist practice emphasizes the method of descent. Descent means storage: one settles the mind deep within, gathers the Qi into empty stillness, and draws every sensation and thought arising from the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind into the single mysterious portal (xuanxuan yi qiao), the profound inner aperture spoken of in cultivation. This resembles autumn and winter, when all things gather in, withdraw, and return to their roots and restore their destiny (guigen fuming).

When this storage is maintained over a long period, one must, whether asleep or awake, achieve the condition of "the body sleeps, but the mind does not sleep," so as to avoid drowsiness and indulgence. This is what Confucius meant by "one does not sleep like a corpse" (qin bu shi). People commonly take this to mean that one should not stretch out the limbs like a dead body while sleeping, with head and feet motionless, but this is not the meaning. Ordinary people fall asleep as if dead, and cannot be roused no matter how they are called. A cultivated person sleeps with the body while the mind remains aware, the breath is not coarse, and the mind stays clear. As long as there is no sound, all is well, and at the first sound, one perceives it distinctly. This is the way of sleep spoken of in the Daoist school.

Can you too reach this state when you sleep? If you cannot yet, there is no need to look elsewhere for the secret. Simply recall how, when facing an urgent matter in daily life, your mind cannot let it go even while you are sleeping, so that at the slightest stirring you wake up. Reflecting on this experience, you can understand the method of "the body sleeps, but the mind does not sleep."

In short, one must rouse the spirit and constantly remind and awaken oneself, so that thought never slackens for a moment. Even while the body sleeps, the mind-spirit, or Shen (spirit), does not relax, so one wakes at the slightest stirring. Reflecting on this, one will come to understand the method of "the body sleeps while the mind-spirit does not fall into torpor."

This is only a method for those who have not yet undergone a true awakening. In fact, if one can subtly regulate the movements of thought, there is no need to be bound by it. Hide the heart deep within profound stillness and empty void, and over time the moment of "the single yang returning" will arrive, which is the sign of yang qi beginning to be reborn. If the mind-spirit has no place to settle, how could the signs of yang's emergence appear? Even if they seem to appear, they are only illusions, not a genuine stirring of yang.

It is also said that one must hide the heart deeply in order to gradually penetrate subtle matters. Your true yang is not yet sufficient, so do not single-mindedly pursue its stirring. First devote yourselves to quiet nourishment. Once Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) are full, true yang will arise naturally, and its momentum will be impossible to check. Without the gathering and storing of autumn and winter, how could there be the germination of spring and summer?

In general, the principle of ascent and descent can be understood through the four seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and through the alternation of day and night, where its subtleties may be perceived. Know that between one exhalation and one inhalation there is ascent and descent, and within one microcosmic orbit (the circulation of inner Qi through one full cycle) there is also ascent and descent. Practitioners must carefully discern these changes for themselves, judging when to ascend and when to descend, without the slightest error, so that they do not fall into the imbalances of excessive fire or excessive cold. When the time of gathering and storing arrives, ascent and descent also undergo their corresponding changes.

When the true Qi (zhen qi) within the body is gathered back into a single place, the "Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown" (sanhua juju) appears, meaning Jing, Qi, and Shen converge at the top of the head. The "Five Qi Facing the Origin" (wuqi chaoyuan) follows, meaning the Qi of the five viscera returns to its primordial source. The Five Phases (wuxing) come into harmony and the Four Images (sixiang) gather. If this state has not yet been reached, the mind-spirit is like Li fire above and Kan water below, with the liver on the left and the lungs on the right, each scattered and unable to coordinate.

When you sit in meditation, the external Qi (the breath outside the body) cannot harmonize, and the internal Qi cannot settle. The Qi above cannot descend, and the Qi below cannot ascend. This is what is called "Kan and Li not interacting" (kan li bu jiao). The Qi on either side of the Dantian also opens and closes like two alternating doors, meeting and then scattering again. This is what is called "Dragon and Tiger not interacting" (longhu bu jiao).

You must cause the external Qi and the internal Qi to merge into one mass, so that the Qi of above, below, left, and right all gather in one place. This is the Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown and the Five Qi Returning to Origin. At this point, the true Jing within Li (the true essence that the Li trigram symbolizes) and the primordial Qi within Kan (the original Qi that the Kan trigram symbolizes) are joined by a single point of true breath (the inner, genuine breathing) as a medium. The three become one body and condense into a single, harmonious whole. Only when this step is accomplished does the work of refining the elixir truly begin. If any part is out of harmony, the elixir cannot form.

This is like a man and a woman uniting to conceive a child. The Shen and Qi of the limbs, the features of the face, and all the bones of the body gather in the Dantian, and only then can life be conceived. If any part is not complete, there will be a deficiency. For example, if the ears, nose, hands, or feet are missing, it is because one part failed to unite at the moment the parents came together. If you wish to cultivate the great elixir (dadan) and manifest hundreds, thousands, or myriads of transformation bodies, you must first condense Jing and Shen and gather all the primordial Qi of the body into the single Mysterious Aperture (xuanxuan yi qiao), the inner gateway of profound mystery. Then, even without deliberately seeking the elixir, it will condense of its own accord.

The most important thing to understand is that attaining the Dao has a fixed foundation, but there is no single fixed method of cultivation. Just as scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants each follow different trades and can all support themselves and preserve their households, there is no need to force everyone down the same path. Only Heavenly Principle (Tianli) and conscience are the root of life's unceasing vitality, and they are what every person inherently possesses and cannot do without. If one does not look inward, but instead demands that others change their proper roles, insisting that farmers act like scholars and scholars like merchants, then the matter becomes very difficult to accomplish.

Since you now understand this principle, you should know that the teachings established by the sages of the Three Teachings (Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist) differ in their methods but all return to the same principle. If one insists that one's own method alone is correct and condemns others' methods as wrong, mutual rejection and endless dispute are inevitable. Seeing this clearly, one need not reject every minor art and sideline (menpai xiaoshu) either. Nevertheless, your present body is weakened and deficient, and it still requires the work of cultivating life and creating destiny (xiuming zaoming), that is, adjusting body and mind and strengthening the foundation of life. First stabilize the spirit. Only then can you use great wisdom to illuminate the Dao, use full vitality to bear the Dao, and use robust strength to support the Dao. Learning proceeds step by step from shallow to deep, and one must personally and clearly grasp its true meaning so as not to be misled by others.

Today, people's hearts grow more corrupt by the day and worldly customs grow more improper, all because the Dao has not been made clear. To reverse the decline of the age and rectify people's hearts, the Dao must be explained plainly and directly, so that a frivolous, restless world can be transformed into one of simplicity and sincerity. The scriptures left by immortals and buddhas are numerous, yet few of them truly identify the root and reveal the essential purpose of nature and life (xingming), the human mind-nature and vital existence. Could it be that the myriad immortals and sages were unwilling to explain these fundamental principles clearly?

Although the immortals and sages left behind many books, very few of them point out the fundamentals and clarify the essentials of cultivating life and nature (xingming shuangxiu). Is this because the various immortals and sages did not value fundamentals and chased only branches? In truth, it is because the accumulated habits of the world have grown ever more deeply entrenched and people have long been immersed in them. Even when shallower principles are explained to them, they find them unrelatable and uninteresting, let alone the highest level of the Dao.

Only you are able to understand the principle that the three teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism) share one source and that inner and outer practice are united. Therefore I have come at my master's command to reveal the profound heavenly secrets to all under heaven. The entry-level practice discussed here is only a method for cultivating the "ming" (life) aspect of xingming, and we cannot yet speak of the practice for cultivating "xing" (nature). Yet one should know that our lineage upholds the dual cultivation of nature and life: although we speak of cultivating life, nature is contained within it. If one cultivates life while disregarding nature, then from where would the so-called single great medicine of the primordial heaven (xiantian) come?

Although I have many disciples, those who truly understand the source of nature (xingyuan), know the root of life (mingdi, the foundation of life), and can begin from steady practice without falling into vacuous emptiness (wankong, taking emptiness as everything and dwelling in the mere concept of void) are only you, who are barely qualified to discuss this Dao. Beyond this, some know only how to cultivate life and do not understand cultivating nature; others know only how to cultivate nature and do not understand cultivating life. Both lean to one side. How could either accord with the Middle Way?

These are words of encouragement to my disciples.

To become a person of the highest rank, one must do the highest deeds, and to do the highest deeds, one must first hold a highest mind and set a highest aspiration. Whether in diet, dress, daily life, or conduct, one should be able to stand out from the crowd and refuse to keep company with the vulgar. Otherwise, if one's heart yearns to become an immortal or a sage, yet one's words and actions are no different from those of ordinary people, then even if one has some understanding of the subtle wonders of the Dao (dao, the Way), it remains mere talk on the lips and does nothing for body and mind.

Moreover, to cultivate the Daoist path (xian dao, the path of the immortals) is to transcend the mundane and enter the realm of the sage. Consider this: what is meant by "transcending the mundane"? By what means can you surpass ordinary life? And what is meant by "entering the sage's realm"? By what means can you enter it? Students of the Dao must not violate Heaven's principles or human feeling, yet what ordinary people love, you need not necessarily love; what ordinary people hate, you need not necessarily hate; what ordinary people refuse to do, you should be willing to do; and what ordinary people busily do, you should be willing to refrain from. Reflecting in this way on every matter, and refusing to drift with the current, is what makes one a truly outstanding person of great character.

If one merely admires the way of the sages without adopting the sage's aspiration or practicing the sage's conduct, and one continues to mingle with the secular world every day, chasing about in its clamor, then even if one obtains the "fire" (huo) and "medicine" (yao), the technical terms of internal alchemy (neidan) for the timing of the fire and the materials of the elixir, what one cultivates may be only illusory forms, at best spirit-ghosts possessing the five kinds of supernatural powers. Furthermore, if one does not correct the conduct of worldly life, yet seeks to enter the depths of the sage's path, the medicine one refines will not be true medicine, and the fire one uses will not be true fire. Without the proper timing of fire and the genuine medicine, one cannot even achieve the modest aim of refining ordinary elixirs to cure illness and prolong life, much less transcend the mundane world and become a transcendent immortal beyond it.

Since you have already made such a vow, you must now cultivate diligently. The first step is to endure desire……

Those who have made such a vow must then cultivate with diligence. First, they must learn patience and forbearance: what others find unbearable, they bear; what others refuse to yield, they yield. Only in this way can the mind be drawn out of worldly attachments, a courageous and unwavering spirit be cultivated, and the Benevolent Way (renDao) be taken up as one's own responsibility. Whatever hardships and obstacles arise, one must press on and persevere through them. Only then can one truly break through the city of afflictions and leap out of the sea of suffering.

If one earnestly seeks the Dao while still busily pursuing worldly desires, it is like keeping one foot in the bitter sea while the other has already stepped onto the far shore. Advancing and retreating in this way, one will never reach a state of ease and freedom. I urge you: if you do not understand the Great Dao, that is one matter, but once you understand it, you must strive to practice it. If you do not recognize how worldly desires entangle you, that is one matter, but once you recognize it, you must let them go without hesitation, lest they hinder your cultivation and progress. If you wish to pursue both heavenly principle (tianli) and desire at once, rejoicing when you encounter the Dao and rejoicing equally when you return to worldly splendor, and cannot cut these away completely, how could you ever produce a truly pure "medicine" (yao)? Here, the "medicine" refers to the foundations of cultivation, such as jing (essence) and qi (vital energy), as described in internal alchemy (Neidan).

When a person reaches old age, their jing and blood are already depleted and diminished, so obtaining the "medicine" all at once is in fact very difficult. Therefore one must cultivate according to the methods and practice guarding the center (shouzhong), which means keeping the mind-spirit settled and holding to the vital point at the center of body and mind. After guarding the center for a long time, a faint yang energy begins to stir, which is called the arising of essence (jingsheng). At this point, one need not employ the Microcosmic Orbit fire (zhoutian huo), an internal alchemy term referring to the use of intention to guide the qi along its circuit. One need only gently raise it and return it to the central palace (Zhonggong), and wait until the yang organ (the male genitals) contracts as it does in a child. If one applies the Microcosmic Orbit fire at this stage, the "medicine" becomes weak while the fire grows strong: the medicinal power is dispersed by the very fire meant to refine it, and improper use of fire can also bring about various illnesses.

When jing and qi have just arisen, their condition is still undifferentiated and whole, much like a child who does not yet understand the way of union between man and woman.

When essence and qi first begin to sprout, they are still undifferentiated and pure, like a child who does not yet understand the matters between man and woman. Only when an erection suddenly appears can one speak of true jing (essence). If desire is mixed in, the source of the essence-qi is no longer pure and cannot be used in cultivation.

When the essence-qi is first born, the qi is still very faint, and at this stage there is only a sensation of warmth; in truth, the jing has not yet formed. If one lets the yang qi stir into erection and remain for a long time without retaining it, or notices it but does not refine it, or fails to notice it and lets it run its course, then in the blink of an eye the qi will turn into jing and leak outward along its familiar path. Therefore, at the start of cultivation, to cause the yang to sprout and wisdom to grow, one must first accumulate jing and qi: for every portion of jing produced, one portion of qi must be refined. When the essence and qi have been sufficient for a long time, the sign of "the single yang returning" (yiyang lai fu, the renewed sprouting of yang) will appear.

The growth of qi spoken of here does not mean that the breath of respiration becomes more abundant, but that the primordial vital energy (xiantian yuanqi), the innate, formless life-energy present before birth, increases. The yuanqi is formless, while breath is formed, and the formless yuanqi must rely on the formed breath to begin to sprout. At first, the breathing seems to be present and yet absent, the breath coming and going faintly, without sound or trace. If the external breath remains coarse and shows no sign of harmonizing and settling, the yuanqi will be disturbed by the breath and cannot govern itself. Following the rising and falling of the breath, it is dissipated throughout the flesh and blood of the body, and so it becomes difficult to condense into "medicine" and form the elixir.

As for "applying fire" (yonghuo) in cultivation, which uses the metaphor of fire-timing to describe the refining of essence, qi, and spirit, there are three kinds: the fire of breath, the fire of yuanqi, and the fire of the original spirit (yuanshen). The fire of breath refines the qi transformed from grain, causing it to give birth to yuanqi. The fire of yuanqi refines the breath, causing it to give birth to the yuanshen. The fire of the yuanshen in turn refines the fire of yuanqi, and ultimately the great elixir is formed.

At the outset, moving the fire (yunhuo) requires only regulating the breath. Once the breath has settled into harmony, the primordial Qi (yuanqi, the innate vital energy within the body) begins to appear. The practitioner must observe its changes clearly and must not be hasty or violent, since haste injures the primordial Qi. The ancients taught that at the start of practice one should regard worldly circumstances lightly, refrain from arguing with others, see through the weariness of mundane life, and not habitually rely on one's talent. Improper conduct that violates propriety and righteousness is, of course, out of the question. Nor may one be lax or scattered, for then the primordial Qi cannot gather, and how could an inner elixir (neidan) be formed? Hence the text says: "Wei jing wei yi, yun zhi jue zhong," meaning: be single-minded and sincere, and hold fast to the centre.

As for the "fire" that moves the primordial Qi, it includes the yin fire of the Li trigram and the yang fire of the Kan trigram, which use the trigram images of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes) to figure the yin-yang transformations within the body. At the beginning of practice, one looks downward with the eyes toward the dantian (the abdominal region that traditional inner alchemy holds in mind), and this is what is called the yin fire within Li. Here one should maintain a state of watching without watching: neither clinging deliberately nor forgetting entirely, and not forcing or hastening the process, so that it accords with nature. If one is too rushed or too slow, the "gold within water" (a term of inner alchemy referring to the essence produced by yin-yang changes during practice) cannot appear.

When the gold within water is driven out by the fire within Li, the outer yang begins to stir, and the dantian grows warm of its own accord. This is when the yang fire within Kan begins to operate. The yang fire within Kan, however, is easily agitated, and the practitioner must gather and restrain it promptly. Otherwise, in the blink of an eye, it may turn into the lustful thoughts of acquired existence and follow the familiar channels of desire. This must not be overlooked.

In general, moving the fire has divisions of gentle fire (wenhuo) and martial fire (wuhuo), and it also passes through stages such as bathing (muyu) and nurturing (wenyang). The most essential point is that, in applying the timing of the fire (huohou), no trace of deliberate effort should remain in the mind; only then is it appropriate. The practitioner should also regulate the external breath and quietly observe the changes within the body, for only then may the medicine be gathered and the elixir formed. Yet one need not deliberately observe the true breath within: when the external breath is exhaled, the internal primordial Qi naturally inhales and descends; when the external breath is inhaled, ...

Practitioners should especially regulate their external breathing and quietly observe the changes in the breath within the body, for only in this way can the "medicine" be refined and the Neidan (internal alchemy) be formed. In truth, there is no need to deliberately visualize the true breath within the body. When the external breath is exhaled, the original Qi (yuanqi, the fundamental vital energy within the human body) is naturally drawn in and descends; when the external breath is inhaled, the original Qi naturally flows out and rises. Only an enlightened master (a teacher who has accomplished cultivation and can transmit its essential secrets) can discern these workings, and only one who has attained the Dao can comprehend their subtle mysteries. Practitioners should concentrate on regulating the external breath, carefully observe the rising and falling of the internal Qi, and distinguish these changes clearly, and then the elixir will not be difficult to refine. This is the most important secret of cultivation, and those who hear it should not take it lightly.

Once vision arises, consciousness is born; once consciousness is born, there are attachments and obstructions, and so fear, delusion, and false thoughts arise one after another. My mind moves on its own. If I cannot liberate myself, can I still hope that others will liberate me? Yet these illusory images are all produced by the human mind, and this point should not be taken lightly.

Once the realm seen by the eyes arises, a discriminating consciousness (fenbie yishi) arises. Once that consciousness arises, the mind becomes attached and preoccupied, and fears, inverted thoughts, and dreams appear one after another. My own thoughts arise within me, and if I cannot awaken to them myself, can I expect others to awaken them for me?

Yet illusions are produced by the human mind. Why was this old monk able to bring people to awakening with a single phrase? Precisely because this awakening does not come from explanation in words. It is true awakening, and it is also subtle awakening. Once one awakens to this, one understands that all forms (se xiang), meaning visible and tangible appearances, are empty. The myriad things have no real arising or ceasing, and no fixed defilement or purity. In this way one returns to one's original innate nature, which is what is meant by "no wisdom and also no attainment" (wu zhi yi wu de).

Formerly, when the Fifth Patriarch (Wuzu) lectured on the Diamond Sutra (Jingang Jing) and reached the phrase "let the mind arise without abiding anywhere" (ying wu suo zhu er sheng qi xin), the Sixth Patriarch (Liuzu) immediately awakened and said: "I never expected that the self-nature is originally pure. I never expected that the self-nature is originally neither arising nor ceasing. I never expected that the self-nature is originally complete. I never expected that the self-nature is originally unmoving. I never expected that the self-nature can give rise to all dharmas." He recognized that this mind is clear and still, complete and empty, not restricted by direction or place, and has originally never arisen, and so on.

From this we can see that awakening to the Dao does not depend on much speech. It is regrettable that ordinary people hear subtle principles yet cannot comprehend them.

Liaoliao Zi wrote of himself:

One need not leave home to study the Dao. It is enough to keep the heart clear, restrain desire, and live in quiet contentment, setting aside the many worldly schemes and calculations. Who would know that I am studying "Guagua"? Here "Guagua" is a playful self-designation, borrowed as a metaphor for the state of the cultivator.

To have mastered "Guagua" is also a fine thing. On the summit of Kunlun, the Three Flowers (the Jing, Qi, and Shen gathered through cultivation) converge. Harmonious qi condenses into a single mass, forms an embryo, and in time gives birth to a strange child. Here "forming the embryo" and "giving birth" are metaphors for the process in Neidan (internal alchemy) by which Jing, Qi, and Shen condense into the embryo of the elixir.

Someone scolds the old fellow for being unreasonable, for raising a son who grows up to be a bandit. When the immortals gather, he offers the peaches of immortality, then secretly takes them back and laughs heartily. I laugh at the people of the world, who love to discuss the Great Dao yet may not understand its essential secret. Those who truly grasp the secret rarely have the perseverance to practice it, and instead say that ordinary people simply cannot attain it.

Written in Response to Feeling

The sages of old cultivated through the mind. They were like unpolished jade and unrefined gold, simple and whole. Those who have attained understanding often carry a heart to save the world and help others, yet they may travel to the ends of the earth without ever finding a true friend.

The ways in which they differ from ordinary people are in fact subtle. How could worldly people tell right from wrong in such matters? Who were these people, and who could ask after them? By the time one recognizes them, they have already ascended and gone.

I too have earnestly and plainly urged others to cultivate, only to provoke their anger instead. People who are obsessed with craving are like those immersed in a spring dream. When, then, will they be awakened?

Turn the heart toward goodness, and you can return. Turn around and leap onto the boat that ferries people across. Pole the boat with all your strength and reach the far shore. When the great calamity comes, I will not be afraid. Here "the boat that ferries people" and "the far shore" are metaphors for the Daoist cultivation that frees one from suffering and reaches the state of liberation.

Written after Awakening to the Dao at Night, When I Suddenly Laughed; Recorded Here

Having penetrated the mystery of Chan, I cannot help but laugh. I leap onto the boat that ferries people across, pole it with all my strength to the far shore, and when the great calamity comes, I will not be afraid.

Written after Awakening to the Dao at Night, When I Suddenly Laughed; Recorded Here

Having penetrated the mystery of Chan, I cannot help but laugh, and I find I can grasp something of its profundity. Who knows that the Great Dao is originally ordinary, and yet the world is unable to comprehend it?

Daoist Yuanyang (a Daoist title) was truly carefree and at ease. He regarded official rank as a worn-out shoe and, when he sought the Dao, he cast his official position aside. He has been without a companion for eight years, often dwelling alone as in a dream. In the deep of night, with the air cold and the iron pillow chilled, even the mandarin ducks in the quilt seem lonely.

Look at his face, and his beard has turned white. Consider his age, and yet there is still vitality in his heart. I advise you to seek a "Huangpo" (the "Yellow Matron," a Neidan term usually denoting the go-between who harmonizes yin and yang and brings about their union) soon, and to take a lovely wife.

Man below and woman above, with Kan and Li (the trigrams symbolizing water and fire, yin and yang) inverted and joined, are like the fairy maiden of Mount Tiantai meeting a gentle husband. Within the bridal chamber, the separate worlds of self and other are no longer distinguished. Their natures respond to each other, and their lives accompany and keep faith with each other.

Only in the moment of undifferentiated oneness do we see your true heart. Only in the state of quiet absorption do we see your true intention. This affection is the very first step on the path to the immortal way.

Li Xiyue said: "Though the human body stands only six chi tall, it can contain and interpenetrate the three thousand great thousand worlds. People call the body a 'stinking skin bag,' but I call it a 'fragrant sack.' Xiuzhen (cultivation toward realization) depends on this body and must not be carelessly squandered. The deluded person wants to cast the body aside, believing that this will let them leap beyond heaven and earth. The superior practitioner, by contrast, is fully integrated and penetrating, knows how to make good use of the body, and therefore moves freely without obstruction."