《重阳立教十五论》

First: Dwelling in a Hermitage

Anyone who leaves the household life to cultivate the Way should first find a hermitage in which to live. An “an” is a dwelling where the body may rest. When the body has a place of support, the mind gradually grows calm; only when Qi (vital energy) and Shen (spirit) are harmonized and at ease has one truly set out on the path of cultivating the Dao (the Way).

In daily affairs one must not labor to excess, or one’s Qi and strength will be injured; nor should one remain wholly inactive, or Qi and blood will stagnate. Activity and quiet nurturing ought to be kept in proper measure, so that one may preserve one’s normal condition and abide in one’s proper station.

This is the method of dwelling in a hermitage.

Second: Wandering like the Clouds

Cloud-wandering—going out to visit teachers and study the Dao—is of two kinds.

One kind of person travels in order to enjoy mountains and waters, red flowers and green trees, to view the bustle of prefectural cities and the towers of temples and abbeys, or to seek out friends and indulge in pleasure, or to think only of clothing and food. Even if such a person covers ten thousand li, wearying the body and exhausting vital strength, and has seen the sights of the world, mind and Shen remain scattered and Qi and strength grow weak. This kind of wandering is in vain.

Another kind wanders in order to inquire into the Dao of nature and life and to seek profound principles. Such people spare no toil in climbing steep mountains to visit renowned teachers; even when they pass noisy ferry crossings, they still ask after the Dao with a single mind and never grow weary. If they hear one saying that accords with the heart, a rounded and luminous understanding arises within. Such a person can awaken to the great matter of life and death and become a true person of great resolve who brings his own cultivation to completion. This alone is genuine cloud-wandering.

Third: Studying the Scriptures

In studying the classics (Jing), do not merely chase after words and phrases, lest reading leave the eyes dazzled and the mind confused.

One should grasp the intent of the text and bring it into accord with the heart; do not cling to the written characters, but seek the principle through them. Having understood the principle, one must further realize its essential purport; only after grasping that purport can one gather it into the mind.

If concentration and sincerity are maintained over a long time, the light of the mind will naturally grow full, wisdom and Shen will be quickened, and many matters will be clearly understood. At this point one should collect mind and Shen and nourish one’s cultivation, and must not let the thoughts run unchecked, lest the root of nature and life be injured.

If one cannot deeply grasp the original meaning of the books, and only wants to memorize and recite more in order to show off one’s cleverness and talent before others, this brings no benefit to cultivation; on the contrary, it depletes one’s Shen (spirit) and vital strength. Even if one has read a great many books, what help does that offer for cultivating the Dao (the Way)?

Once the meaning in the books has truly been understood, it should be stored deep within the heart.

Fourth Discourse: Compounding Medicines

Medicines are condensed from the numinous, refined Qi (vital energy) of mountains and rivers and from the essential flowering of grasses and trees. Their natures may be warm or cold, and so they can tonify or purge; some are heavy and dense, others light and thin, and they may act upon the surface of the body or support and raise the course of illness within. One who is willing to work hard at the careful study of medicine can save human lives; one whose medical skill is mediocre may harm the body.

A person who cultivates the Dao cannot afford to be ignorant of medicine. If one does not understand medicine, one cannot use it to assist cultivation of the Dao.

Yet one must not cling to medicine, still less use it to covet wealth. To do so damages the hidden De (Virtue/Power) one has accumulated, and also expends the mental effort of cultivating the True. If greed for wealth brings on fault, it is harmful not only in this life; one must also regard with caution the retribution of the life to come.

The advanced disciples of my school should consider this carefully.

Fifth Discourse: Building Dwellings

In putting up a thatched hut or grass shelter, it is enough if it can keep out wind and rain and cover the body. If one sleeps in the open, exposed to wind and sun, the body is easily injured.

To build carved beams and painted rafters, lofty and ornate halls, is likewise not what a superior cultivator should do. Are great halls and high chambers really the life a person of the Dao ought to seek? To fell trees and damage the living pulse of the earth’s veins, and then to use these materials for large-scale construction, is to deplete the vitality of nature and also to expend human labor, wealth, and the blood and sweat of the common people.

To build only outward merit while failing to cultivate inner De is like drawing a cake to relieve hunger or storing snow as grain: the strength of many is spent in vain, and in the end nothing is accomplished.

One who aspires to cultivate the Dao should early seek the “treasured hall” and “vermilion tower” within one’s own body. This is a metaphor for the inner cultivation of body and mind. If one does not know how to cultivate and maintain them, one will in the end watch them decline and collapse.

The wise gentleman should carefully discern the principle in this.

Sixth Discourse: Joining Companions of the Dao

Daoist practitioners join together to cultivate, originally so that they may support one another in illness: if you die, I will bury you; if I die, you will bury me.

But one must first select suitable people and only then form a companionship; one cannot first form a companionship and only afterward choose the people.

They must not become excessively attached to one another, for excessive attachment will entangle the mind and spirit (Shen); nor may they be wholly without feeling, for a complete lack of feeling will cause them to grow distant from each other. There should be affection and a sense of loyal duty, yet one must not be bound up by that affection and duty. It is enough to reach just the right measure.

There are three situations in which companionship is fitting, and three in which it is not. Those who understand the inner mind, those who have the capacity for awakening, and those who possess aspiration: these three kinds of people are suited to companionship. Those who do not understand how things stand and cling to external circumstances; those who lack wisdom and whose disposition is dull and turbid; and those who have no resolve and only force themselves into secluded cultivation: these three kinds of people are not suited to companionship.

The root of cultivating oneself and establishing one’s life lies in the mutual accord of mind and aspiration when companions are formed in the monastic community (the place where Daoist practitioners live and cultivate together). One must not act merely in accordance with ordinary human feelings, nor choose people by their appearance. One ought to select people of superior insight; only this accords with the Dao (the Way) of cultivation.

Seventh Discourse: Seated Meditation

What is called seated meditation does not mean that it counts as soon as the body is held upright and the eyes are closed; that is only seated meditation on the surface.

True seated meditation is this: throughout the twelve double-hours (every moment within a single day), whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, and whether in movement or in stillness, one can keep the mind as firm as Mount Tai, not subject to being shaken, and draw in and collect the gaze. Only this counts as seated meditation.

True seated meditation further requires that, amid the walking, standing, sitting, and lying of the twelve double-hours and amid every kind of movement and stillness, the mind remain throughout as unmoving and unswaying as Mount Tai, and that one close the four gateways of the eyes, ears, mouth, and nose, not allowing scenes of the outside world to enter the mind. If there remains even a thread of movement or of thought, it cannot be called quiet sitting.

A person who can achieve this, even while living in the dusty world, already has name and standing entered among the ranks of the immortals. There is no need to travel far to visit others, for worthies and sages are to be found within one’s own person.

After a hundred years of cultivation, when merit is complete, one can cast off the mortal body and become an immortal; when Neidan (internal alchemy) is refined into a single grain, the spirit may roam beyond the eight directions.

Eighth Discourse: Subduing the Mind

As for regulating and subduing the thoughts of the mind: if the mind is often clear, quiet, and unmoved—dim and silent, not seeing the myriad things; profound and elusive, making no distinction between inner and outer, and without a single thread of thought—this is the settled mind, and there is no need to subdue it any further.

The original text then says: “If the mind arises by following external conditions, all upside down, seeking the head and hunting the tail, this dim and remote obscurity is neither inner nor outer. Without the slightest thought, this is the settled mind and is not to be subdued.” The latter half of this sentence repeats the earlier description of the “settled mind.” Rendered directly from the original, it means: if the mind gives rise to thoughts by following outer circumstances, disordered and unsettled, pursuing without rest—this is the state of being profound and elusive, without distinction of inner and outer, and without a shred of thought; it is the settled mind and does not need to be subdued. At this point the meaning of the original is inconsistent between what precedes and what follows; there may have been an error in transmission or a disordering of the text.

If one lets thoughts arise by following external conditions, the mind and Shen (spirit) become inverted and confused, seeking east and west and chasing without rest. This is called a “chaotic mind.” One should quickly remove it and not allow it to develop; otherwise it will corrupt one’s De (Virtue/Power) and injure one’s nature and life.

Whether walking, working, sitting, or lying down, one should constantly gather in and subdue the thoughts of the mind, and treat whatever is heard, seen, or perceived as an ailment within cultivation, regulating and treating it in good time.

Ninth Discourse: Refining Nature

Nurturing the mind and nature is like tuning the strings of a qin (zither): if a string is drawn too tight, it breaks easily; if too loose, it will not sound in response. Only when the tension is rightly balanced can the qin be properly tuned.

It is also like casting a sword: if there is too much steel, the sword breaks easily; if there is too much tin, the edge rolls and dulls easily. Only when steel and tin are suitably proportioned can a fine sword be cast.

Those who regulate and refine the mind and nature, by grasping and applying these two methods, will naturally master the subtlety within them.

Tenth Discourse: Matching the Five Qi

The Five Qi (vital energy) gather in the Central Palace (the symbolic central region within the body), and the Three Origins (in Daoist internal cultivation, primordial Jing (essence), primordial Qi, primordial Shen, and the like) assemble at the crown of the head. The Azure Dragon exhales a red mist, and the White Tiger breathes out a black vapor. The myriad spirits array themselves and become manifest; the white vessels flow and course through; cinnabar shines bright, and lead and mercury congeal clear and pure. At this time the body still sojourns in the human world, yet Shen already roams the heavens.

Eleventh Discourse: Blending Nature and Life

Nature refers to Shen; life refers to Qi.

If one can bring nature and life into union, it is like a bird riding the wind and rising lightly; cultivation of this kind takes less effort and more readily yields results. The Yinfu jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) says, “Seizing and controlling it lies in Qi,” which means that one grasps and restrains the mind and Shen by regulating Qi.

Those who cultivate the true (people who practice the way of the Zhenren, the Perfected) should inquire into this principle and must not fail to understand it; yet they must not casually disclose it to those of shallow capacity, lest they incur punishment from the gods.

Nature and life are the foundation of cultivation and must be tempered with care and persistence.

Twelfth Discourse: The Sagely Dao

To enter the sagely Dao (the Way), one must hold a resolve of arduous cultivation for many years and continually accumulate merit and good deeds. Only those of lofty aspiration who are clear-sighted, worthy, and virtuous are qualified to walk the sagely Dao.

Even while remaining within a single room, the mind and nature can fill heaven and earth. The sacred hosts of all heaven silently protect and uphold one, and the Immortal Lord of the Infinite (Wuji xianjun, a revered deity of Daoism) also encircles one in the unseen. The practitioner’s name is entered in the registers of the Purple Prefecture (Zifu, the palace-offices of the immortal realm spoken of in Daoism), and one’s station joins the ranks of the immortals. The body still lodges in the dusty world, yet within, one has already clearly illumined the principles beyond this world.

Thirteenth Discourse: Transcending the Three Realms

People cannot see this sovereign of the Realm of Desire. They only find him profound and unfathomable, as if surrounded by layer upon layer of darkness. His title is recorded in the Purple Prefecture (Zifu, the celestial offices of the immortal realm in Daoism), and his rank belongs among the immortals. Although his physical form is for the time being lodged in the dusty world, his mind has already transcended all things of the world.

The Thirteenth Discourse: Transcending the Three Realms

The Realm of Desire (Yujie), the Realm of Form (Sejie), and the Formless Realm (Wusejie) are together called the Three Realms (Sanjie). The Three Realms are a conception of cosmic levels borrowed by Daoism, and they also serve to explain the different bonds that constrain the mind.

When the mind is no longer pulled by distracting thoughts and desires, one transcends the Realm of Desire; when one no longer clings to various external appearances, one transcends the Realm of Form; when one no longer clings to the notion of emptiness, one transcends the Formless Realm.

Leaving behind the bonds of these Three Realms, the spirit comes to rest in the realm of immortals and sages, and the mind-nature enters Jade Clarity (Yuqing, the pure and exalted realm spoken of in Daoism).

The Fourteenth Discourse: The Method of Nourishing the Body

The “dharma-body” (fashen) spoken of here is the formless image of fundamental reality. It is neither empty nothingness nor concrete existence, and it admits no division into before and after, high and low, or long and short. When one employs it, there is nothing it cannot penetrate; when it is withdrawn and concealed, it settles into stillness and leaves no trace.

If one can realize and attain this Dao (the Way), one ought to nurture it. The more it is nurtured, the deeper the practice; the less it is nurtured, the shallower the practice.

Do not set your heart on hoping to depart, nor cling greedily to the dusty world. Coming and going, advancing and retreating, should all follow what is natural.

The Fifteenth Discourse: Leaving the Mundane

What is called leaving the mundane does not mean that the body leaves the dusty world; it refers to one’s state of mind.

The body is like the root of the lotus, and the mind is like the lotus flower. The root is planted in the mud, yet the flower opens in the air. Those who have attained the Dao are the same: the body remains within the mundane world, while the mind abides in the realm of the sages.

Nowadays some people wish to seek everlasting life without death and, at the same time, to leave the ordinary world. This is an extremely foolish course, because they have not understood the principle involved.

These fifteen discourses are meant as a reminder to those within the tradition who aspire to cultivate the Dao: they should examine them with care and understand them in depth.