《金丹就正篇》

I have read more than ten thousand volumes of elixir scriptures, and I have found that whenever these books speak of the elixir of longevity, they always say that it can be refined only when one has obtained the primordial true unitary Qi (vital energy). Ask where this Qi comes from, and those who answer always say that it must be sought from “that place.” Yet if we turn back to ourselves, is it possible that we simply do not possess this Qi, and must go looking for it elsewhere? Those who believe this account come to less than one or two in ten, while those who doubt it number in the hundreds and thousands.

From my youth I set my heart wholly on the Dao (the Way), yet I knew myself to be dull in spiritual capacity and foolish in natural endowment, and I never grasped the profound meaning within it. Now and then I would take up the Cantong qi and the Wuzhen pian, but they seemed like writing overgrown with thorns, obscure and impassable, and I could not get through them. Later I read Yu Yan’s commentaries on these classics, and saw that he directed the Dao toward purity, quiescence, and Wuwei (non-action), condemned every practice outside the body as a side path, and took such expressions as the golden tripod and the fire tally to refer to Waidan (external alchemy), the refining of the elixir by furnace and fire. At the time I stubbornly accepted this preconceived view and held to it without doubt.

Alas—if cultivating the Dao were truly nothing more than purity, quiescence, and Wuwei, I cannot see why those who do not understand such cultivation should laugh aloud, or why slander and vilification should arise so readily. Reading to this point, I could not help feeling doubt. In the dingwei year of the Jiajing reign (1547), through a fortunate meeting of causes and conditions, I encountered Patriarch Lü at the Northern Sea Thatched Hall. We talked at length together; he bestowed on me the mysterious sweet liquor and comforted and encouraged me with kindly words. A meeting so blessed across three lifetimes is hardly to be met with once in a thousand years. Patriarch Lü encouraged me with the highest methods of the Dao, and he began by saying that the Dao can be accomplished only through the union of Yin-Yang. At the time I mistakenly brought up the teachings of the Sanfeng school and asked him to confirm them, and Patriarch Lü rebuked that teaching.

Later, Patriarch Lü transmitted to me verses on “forming the embryo” and the essentials of entering the chamber to cultivate. Those subtle and profound utterances, which readily filled many volumes, I recorded and stored away. Yet although I retained the general sense, I still could not fully understand their import. In this way I delayed for twenty years, and very nearly failed my teacher’s hopes.

In the twelfth month of the jiazi year I lived in seclusion in the wilds. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw that white hair had already grown at both temples, and I could not help lamenting that the work of a lifetime remained unfinished, knowing too that time waits for no one. I was also moved by the memory of my gracious teacher’s instruction in a dream, bidding me abandon “that place” and turn instead to seek it in this body, and thereupon I awoke to a great realization. Recalling the words my teacher had formerly transmitted, I recovered eight or nine parts in ten; then, setting them beside the expositions and verses of the Cantong qi and related works, I pondered and worked over them again and again. Between sleep and dream my heart and nature suddenly opened, as though I had come to some understanding, and so I wrote this essay.

Confucius said, “Review the old, and thereby gain a new understanding.” What I now review is what I learned in former days, yet what I have gained is a new insight. Although this is only what I have inferred for the moment, and I do not yet dare to submit it to those who are truly accomplished, I trust that it has not departed from my teacher’s essential purport.

On the day of the last quarter of the moon, in the month of Jiaping of the Jiazi year, Qianxuzi composed this preface.

Postscript

The Dao (the Way) of the Golden Elixir requires, first of all, that one cultivate and regulate one’s own body and mind. When body and mind have been well cultivated, the spirit (Shen) can settle; when the spirit is settled, Qi (vital energy) can be brought to rest; when Qi is at rest, essence (Jing) can gather and coalesce. It is then like a people at peace and a state grown prosperous: a single campaign can pacify the world.

My teacher once instructed me, saying: “If a person cultivates in clarity and stillness for a hundred days, anyone can become an embryonic immortal.” Cultivate feeling and nature for a hundred days, and in a moment one can obtain the medicine; then, after ten months of working the fire—circulating the inner Qi according to the firing schedule of the practice—one can shed the embryo and undergo spiritual transformation, change one’s bodily form, and become an immortal. Viewed in this light, is it not easy? Yet in the end such people remain hard to find in the world. Why is this?

Those whose foundation is shallow hear the principle but do not believe it. Those whose learning is slight, even if they cultivate the Dao, cannot truly realize the principle within it. Some blind and ignorant teachers lead people about at random, pointing to the east and calling it the west. They cannot even tell the land of Yue from the land of Yan; how then could they distinguish black from white? At times someone brings the Cantong qi and the Wuzhen pian and asks to be taught. These teachers are unwilling to explain them passage by passage, and say instead: “What is written in the books is all shallow talk of old; the oral formulas are what is hard to obtain. There is, besides, a secret of opening the passes and apertures, and of leaving the body so that the breaths may join.”

Students of the Dao who are impatient for quick success, on hearing this, place their hopes in haste and luck. They burn incense and swear oaths to Heaven, and with money in hand they earnestly beg to be taught. A few sentences enter the ear and are stored deep in the heart; the Cantong qi and the Wuzhen pian, by contrast, are set away on a high shelf and studied no more.

Of the principle by which Yin-Yang things of the same kind resonate with one another and join in mutual accord: follow it, and one becomes an ordinary person; reverse it, and one may become an immortal. All of this comes about of itself; it does not depend on clever artifice. Have you not heard the verse of the Wuzhen pian: “Do not expend mind and effort on clever artifice”? The Cantong qi also says: “Accord with the working of what is natural; there is no way of deviance and falsity.” The immortals of old left words to guide later generations; when did they ever deliberately conceal anything? Yet they never spoke of opening the passes and apertures, or of leaving the form to join the breaths. That people now proclaim these things shows that baseless doctrines have been added to no purpose—like fastening useless ornaments on a fine horse, so that its true worth fails to appear. That the Great Dao is obscured is precisely the doing of such people.

Alas, the world takes fish eyes for pearls and the stones of Yan for treasures. People delight in petty arts, yet cannot tell whether the methods of the Dao are shallow or deep. What is to be done?

My teacher once instructed me, saying: “The Cantong qi and the Wuzhen pian are the steps by which one enters the Dao.” Only, their wording is subtle and their meaning far-reaching, and they are not easy to analyze. I studied them with a concentrated mind for twenty years before I gradually came to a clear understanding. I was not born able to grasp them by intuition; it was through deep and repeated study that I was able to confirm my teacher’s words.

Having gained a modest insight, I dared not keep it to myself, and so I have written this piece to seek the counsel of those who understand the Dao. What is said here, however, is only the general outline. As for the subtle essentials of cultivation once one has entered the chamber, and the detailed requirements of the inner and outer firing schedules, the two books themselves are there—how should I dare to add superfluous words?

Qianxuzi states the matter once more.

Upper Section

Someone asked Qianxuzi, “The elixir scriptures (danjing) say that the one Qi (vital energy) of Prior Heaven must be sought from ‘the same kind.’ What does this mean?”

Qianxuzi replied, “I heard my teacher say that the Way (Dao) of the Golden Elixir (Jindan) can be accomplished only by relying on the union of Yin and Yang (Yin-Yang). The Yin and Yang spoken of here may refer to one man and one woman, to the Li trigram and the Kan trigram, or to lead and mercury. All of these are the medicinal substances of which the refining of the great elixir speaks. The true Qi within Kan is called lead, and the true Jing (essence) within Li is called mercury.

The Jing of Prior Heaven accumulates in my own person, while the Qi of Prior Heaven is obtained from the other party. Why is this so? The other party belongs to the Kan trigram, outwardly Yin and inwardly Yang. In its imagery it corresponds to water and the moon, and in the human person it corresponds to the woman. I belong to the Li trigram, outwardly Yang and inwardly Yin. In its imagery it corresponds to fire and the sun, and in the human person it corresponds to the man. Therefore, in the Way of Yin and Yang between man and woman, to follow its course is to give birth to human beings, and to reverse its course is to refine the elixir. The principle underlying both is the same.”

Someone asked, “The Classic of Changes (Yijing) clearly states that Kan is the middle son and Li is the middle daughter. Why, then, does this teaching instead say that I belong to Li?”

Qianxuzi replied, “This is said according to the positions in the Diagram of Prior Heaven. Shao Yong said, ‘The essences of Yin and Yang are each stored in the other’s position.’ Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) divides into the two modes; the two modes divide further into the four images; and the four images divide further into the Bagua (Eight Trigrams). According to this order of relations, the Li trigram belongs to Qian, and the Kan trigram belongs to Kun. Li and Kan are the trigrams formed by the joining of Qian and Kun, while man and woman are the bodily forms produced by the joining of Yin and Yang.

Thus, when Qian and Kun join, Qian cannot but open a space for one Yin, and Li is formed; Kun cannot but be filled out by one Yang, and Kan is formed. When man and woman join, Yin cannot but contain Yang within it, and Yang likewise cannot but take Yin as its root. This is the reason Kan and Li are respectively called ‘the other’ and ‘myself.’”

Someone asked further, “In that case, what lies in the center of the Li trigram is Yin Jing, and what lies in the center of the Kan trigram is Yang Qi. Do I not already possess Jing and Qi in my own body? Why must they still be obtained from the other party?”

Someone said, “These words are indeed sound, yet they have not finished setting out the distinction between ‘myself’ and ‘the other.’”

Someone asked, “If that is so, the Li trigram (symbolizing fire) contains Yin Jing (essence), and the Kan trigram (symbolizing water) contains Yang Qi (vital energy). Do I myself not already possess Jing and Qi? Why must one still go outside to obtain them?”

The reply was: “It is indeed so, but this account has not yet been fully worked through. I was once deeply caught up in the arguments of the elder Yuwu, and only now have I come to understand. Please listen quietly. I heard my teacher say: ‘The two Qi of Yin-Yang and the Qi of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) wondrously join and congeal, and from this life arises.’ When a person is first born, they are plain and uncarved, wholly preserving the completeness of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). Laozi said, ‘One in whom De (Virtue/Power) lies deep and full is like a newborn infant.’ The infant does not yet understand the union of male and female, yet becomes erect—this is Jing and Qi at their utmost fullness. It cries the whole day long, yet its voice does not grow hoarse—this is Yin and Yang harmonized to the utmost. At this time the prenatal body is wholly intact. What need is there to take anything from outside, and what need is there to supplement it further? If one can cultivate in this state, it is already the highest virtuous attainment of Wuwei (non-action); what further cultivation would be required?

“When desire begins to stir and Yin and Yang respond to one another, the prenatal Qi scatters and drains away, entering the Yin softness symbolized by the Kun trigram. Thereupon the Qian trigram of three lines, all Yang (symbolizing pure Yang), is damaged and changes into the Li trigram. Li is the sun. The Li image of the sun declining westward means that aging is at hand—how can life be preserved for long? Therefore the method of the Elixir takes Qi from the Kan trigram. What is called ‘taking from Kan’ is restoring the Qian that has already been damaged and filling in the line that has become empty, so that a person recovers the body of pure Yang. This is what the immortals call the Reverted Elixir.”

Someone said, “That I become the Li trigram comes about only after the prenatal Qi has scattered. Before it has scattered, it ought originally to have been the Kun trigram. Why, then, is it spoken of as the Kan trigram?”

Someone asked: “What a truly fine question! At the very beginning, when Heaven and Earth had not yet separated out of chaos, within the pure Yin represented by the Kun trigram, once Yin Qi (vital energy) reached the term of twice seven, Yang Qi stirred into motion. When movement of Yang suddenly appears within pure Kun, is this not the Kan trigram? Kan thus stands for Yang within Yin: it is the movement that arises of itself after Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) has reached the extreme of stillness, and for this reason it is called ‘Prior Heaven’ (Xiantian). The One of Heaven generates Water, and the Qi of True Unity (the generative and transformative Qi of Prior Heaven) is stored within Kan. The mother-body remains hidden while the offspring is conceived within it, just as Metal lies concealed in Water. One who wishes to cultivate the Golden Elixir (Jindan) should follow the model of extracting Kan. This is the source of the medicine (the Jing [essence] and Qi required for Neidan [internal alchemy]) and the ladder leading toward the realization of the True.

Yang within Yin is governed by movement, so in extracting Kan the essential point is to discern the moment when Yang Qi stirs. Yin within Yang is governed by stillness, so after the Li trigram has been replenished (the true Yang within Kan being used to benefit the Yin within Li), it must be nourished and preserved through stillness. Those who understand movement and stillness and yet do not miss the proper moment are, surely, none but the sages. The sage can observe the Dao (the Way) of Heaven and grasp the regularities of its operation. The waxing and waning of the moon are therefore used to figure changes in the degree of the medicine’s maturation, while the sun’s course from morning to evening is used to figure the advance and retreat of the fire times (huohou; the mastery of process and rhythm in cultivation). When the medicine and the fire times are properly matched, the Golden Elixir can be refined; and once the elixir is complete, one can shed the embryo and undergo spiritual transformation.”

Someone else asked: “All that you have spoken of is the principle of Later Heaven (Houtian). As for Prior Heaven, is there likewise anything that can be said?”

The reply was: “I once, on this account, sought it in the Yi (the Zhouyi)… the shedding of the embryo and spiritual transformation.”

At the end of the original text the earlier question is repeated, and after “I once, for this reason, sought it in the Yi” there follow fragmentary and repetitive passages; the author’s subsequent discussion of Prior Heaven therefore cannot be reconstructed from the passage as given.

He continued: “Drawing on this principle, I once examined the Yijing (Classic of Changes). The Yijing says: ‘When Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) coalesce, concrete things are formed; when wandering hun and po souls undergo change, phenomena of endless transformation appear.’ The Yang contained within Yin is called ‘Qi’; the Yin contained within Yang is called ‘Jing.’ Qi and Jing depend upon each other, and from this the myriad things come into being.

“I have observed how the myriad things are generated in accordance with natural pattern. When Jing arrives first and Qi follows, Yin enfolds Yang and a female is formed; when Qi stirs first and Jing follows, Yang enfolds Yin and a male is formed. From this one can see that the distinction by which Li (symbolizing Yang and fire) is male and Kan (symbolizing Yin and water) is female does not appear only after the bodily form has taken shape. It is already fixed at the moment one receives the breath and generation begins.

“Moreover, the Dao (the Way) of the Golden Elixir—the path of cultivation pursued in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy)—consists precisely in bringing Yin and Yang into union. Human beings carry this out by following the natural course, whereas the way of the immortals reverses the process in order to gather the medicine: the medicine is taken from within Kan, and the elixir is refined within Li. What is there to doubt in this?”

Middle Chapter

Someone asked: “The four great elements that constitute the human body—earth, water, fire, and wind—and the body as a whole all belong to Yin. Yet the body sometimes moves. Does such movement not belong to Yang?”

The reply was: “Li symbolizes fire, and it also symbolizes the sun. Although movement belongs to Yang, its root in fact lies in Yin; hence the saying, ‘The Yang of fire is rooted in Yin.’ See how numinous light flashes and flickers, hard to control. The Yang Qi in our bodies is much the same, and so we constantly suffer from restless agitation, a tendency to rush outward, and difficulty in gathering and restraining it.”

“The sages knew this, and therefore took the true Yi water within Kan—the primordial true Qi symbolized by Kan—in order to restrain it. When desire blazes within and Jing and Qi drain away outward, it is like fire burning beneath a pot and bringing the water inside to a boil. To take the primordial Qi of true Yi and subdue the Jing and Qi that so readily rush outward and leak away is like drawing water from a jar to quench the boiling in the pot. There is then nothing that cannot be regulated and set right.”

“In that case, might one also speak of the method of taking from Kan?”

Someone said, “The hidden workings of Heaven are exceedingly profound and secret. Without a teacher’s guidance, who would dare to speak of them rashly? I will only open the subject and leave you to grasp the meaning for yourself.

The Yijing (Classic of Changes) says that thunder lies stored within the earth, and the corresponding hexagram is Fu, symbolizing Yang Qi (vital energy) beginning to return to life. The earth rests amid layer upon layer of Yin Qi when suddenly Yang Qi is set in motion. This is the root from which the myriad things are generated and transformed, and the key to the transformations of all beings. When Confucius studied the Yijing to this point, he could not help exclaiming, ‘In the Fu hexagram, perhaps one may see the original heart with which Heaven and Earth ceaselessly bring forth life!’ A similar statement appears in the Zhouyi Cantong Qi (abbreviated Cantong Qi, a Daoist classic of elixir alchemy). The Yijing therefore takes the Fu hexagram as governing the heart of Heaven and takes Fu as its beginning. The text further says, ‘In issuing commands one must accord with the seasonal nodes and must not miss the moment when the line-images are set in motion.’ This is precisely the principle in question.

Thus, one who understands that thunder is stored in the earth and that Yang Qi returns to life from there will understand that Yang Qi sprouts from within Yin, and will likewise understand that the Qi of True Unity (an alchemical term for the generative Qi spoken of in the cultivation of Neidan, internal alchemy) lies concealed within it. This can be grasped without further explanation.”

Someone else asked, “When the elixir is formed, the elixir classics often use ‘emerging at Geng on the third day’ as a metaphor. Could you explain this saying to me?”

The Kan hexagram (symbolizing water, and also often used to refer to the moon) corresponds to the moon. The moon belongs to Taiyin (Great Yin) and shows its brightness only by receiving the light of the sun. On the third day the moon appears in the Geng position, and Yang Qi (vital energy) begins to germinate; this situation also resembles the Fu hexagram (symbolizing the revival of Yang Qi). On the eighth day, at the first quarter, moonlight shines all around, Yang Qi has grown to the second line, and the east gradually becomes full and abundant; by the fifteenth, the three Yang are all complete, presenting a scene of vigorous, flourishing vitality. At the last quarter, Yang Qi begins to decline; when there is no moon at the end of the month, Yang Qi has likewise reached its end. The Bo hexagram and the Fu hexagram cycle round and round, beginning anew after coming to an end, so that by the third day the moon gradually appears once more. The changes of the natural world are just the same.

The methods of refining the elixir take their model from the waxing and waning of the moon, and are used to judge whether the medicinal materials (the materials or medicines employed in the process of refining the elixir) are mature or not. My master once said to me, “On a moonlit night there is medicine in the furnace.” He also said, “Snow is reflected in the icy pool, and the new moon at the tip of the plum branch is clear, bright, and pure; only when this moment arrives does the medicine begin to arise and develop. The subtlety of the heavenly mechanism is fully expressed right here.” In the past I understood the meaning of these words of my master, yet I could not clearly explain the principle of the medicinal materials being old or tender. Now I have suddenly realized it, and only then do I know how profound my master’s kindness is, as if he had uncovered the sun and the moon and bestowed their light upon me to see.

He asked again, “When the medicinal materials are mature, or when they are still tender, how exactly should they be used?”

Someone said: “The formation and transformation of the Golden Elixir (Jindan) is condensed from Prior Heaven True Unitary Qi—the pure Yang Qi (vital energy) of Prior Heaven. Prior Heaven Qi is light, numinous, clear, and pure; it has not yet manifested any form, and it is the purest of all Yang Qi. The signs of its first appearance are extremely subtle, and the mystery it contains is hard to fathom. One must therefore hasten to gather it at the very instant of ‘the birth of Gui’ (Guisheng)—the moment in the practice of Neidan (internal alchemy) when Yang Qi first arises—and hold it with single-minded concentration through that brief interval. If one delays even slightly, Yang Qi becomes mixed with turbid dregs and passes into the Later Heaven state; Qi that originally belonged to Yang turns, conversely, into Yin.

The Wuzhen pian (a Daoist classic of Neidan) has the lines: ‘Once it is seen, it cannot be used’—this refers to Yang Qi that has already grown old; ‘In a flash the fire and smoke fly, and the True Person appears of itself’—this refers to a moment that vanishes in an instant. Alas! The mystery of creative transformation—if not a sage, who can know it? If not a sage, who can put it to use?”

Lower Section

Someone asked: “The mystery of creation, since only a sage can put it to use, and we are not sages, yet still wish to make use of it—where does the key lie?”

Did the master not say, “Use true earth (zhentu) to seize true lead (zhenqian), and then use true lead to subdue true mercury (zhengong)”? What is the “true earth” spoken of here? It is “ji-earth” (jitu), that is, the practitioner’s own intention and mind-nature. If those who gather and refine the medicines do not first train the mind-nature, numinous mercury (linggong—a term in the alchemy of the elixir, referring to a medicine endowed with a lively, transformative nature) is easily lost. The work one has done is then in vain, and one only invites hardship and disgrace. What the classics call “laying the foundation and refining the self” (zhuji lianji) speaks precisely of this principle.

In the person, “ji” appears as intention, also called “ji-nature” (jixing). It circulates among the Four Images (sixiang—four states used in elixir alchemy to explain the transformations of Yin-Yang) and has no fixed place, which is why it is called “earth.” From beginning to end, the cultivation of the Golden Elixir (jindan) depends upon it. Thus, when refining the medicine and seeking true lead, one must go forth with “ji” to meet it; when gathering the firing times (huohou) and bringing them into the cauldron (ding), one must guide them with “ji”; in cooking and refining, and in bathing (muyu), one must hold the process with “ji”; and in warm nurturing (wenyang) and in the delivery of the embryo (tuotai), one must likewise bring the work to completion with “ji.”

Rectify the heart within and make the intention sincere, and one can cultivate oneself, bring order to the state, and thereby settle all under heaven. This is the key to refining the elixir. The Cantong qi (a Daoist classic of elixir alchemy) says, “Turn the valley and set the axle true.” It also says, “The chronogram pole stands in its proper place.” Among the instructions left by the ancient immortals, there are still many places where this is urged again and again.

Because I was born of my parents’ passion and desire, a person’s temperamental nature (the nature shaped by innate endowment and acquired habit) readily gives rise to emotion as soon as it meets external things. If one has no attainment in refining the self (lianji: cultivating mind and nature and restraining desire), and the six sense faculties (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) are not yet settled, then, when one enters the chamber to practice and the moment comes when a crucial effort is required, mind and nature will waver, desire will blaze up, and the Maiden (Chanü, a term of Neidan, or internal alchemy, often referring to the mind-spirit, or to Shen, spirit, and Qi, vital energy) will scatter and flee. How, then, could one in the brief span of a single tally seize the precious pearl from beneath the black dragon’s jaw?

The Commentary says: “To probe the tiger’s den and stroke the tiger’s whiskers is nearly to fall into the tiger’s mouth! How perilous! Without great wisdom, one cannot break through this barrier; without great strength, one cannot obtain this treasure.” My teacher instructed me: “The key to entering the gate lies in your mind; if the mind is not empty and still, the scenes you perceive are not real.” Ah—is not the principle of emptying the mind precisely the essential secret of refining the self?

The Qingjing Jing (Scripture of Clarity and Stillness) says: “Look inward upon your own mind, and you find that the mind has no fixed mind; look outward upon your own form, and you find that the form has no fixed form; look still farther upon external things, and you find that external things have no fixed things. Once these three are understood, one sees only a vast emptiness. Since what is emptied does not exist, even ‘non-being’ does not exist.” This is precisely the emptying of the mind—the great liberation and great repose attained in refining the self. The scripture therefore continues: “Ever still, ever responsive.” Ever still is the sign that refining the self has been accomplished; ever responsive, then, is the function of seeking lead (qian, a Neidan term for the medicine, or the Jing, essence, and Qi, required in alchemy)!

My teacher once instructed me with the line, “On a moonlit night, the medicine in the furnace,” and asked me to match it. I was at a loss and did not know how to reply. The teacher then answered himself: “Wind and flowers fall upon the seat and turn to ash.” People commonly cling to the scene before their eyes and take wind, flowers, snow, and the moon as four kinds of beauty; the moment they meet a scene they give rise to feeling, busily responding, with no attention left for anything else. The teacher, however, likened all of these to ash upon the seat. Is this not forgetting oneself, forgetting external things, and even forgetting the forgetting itself? The timing for gathering the medicine and the essential secret of refining the self—the teacher had already pointed them out with complete clarity. In the past I merely memorized these words; only now do I set forth their meaning plainly.

Someone who heard this rose joyfully and said: “Had I not heard this discourse of yours, I would never have heard the essentials of the great Dao (the Way). Permit me first to take my leave and return; henceforth I shall devote myself wholly to refining the self.”