《啟真集》

The Collection of Revealing Truth is a poetic anthology written by Liu Zhiyuan, known by his Daoist name Tongxuanzi of Golden Peak Mountain (a renowned Daoist sacred site). Here we present selected heptasyllabic quatrains that depict the daily life and spiritual states of Daoist practitioners.

In response to Wang Anren's inquiry about daily cultivation: Spiritual practice resembles an unceasing gentle breeze that opens the jade path (symbolizing the Daoist cultivation way), penetrating bone-deep heat to reach Kunlun's summit (the mythical abode of immortals). Through refining, one transforms Jing (essence) and Qi into jade nectar (a Neidan term denoting cultivated vital essence), requiring eighty-one days of meticulous fire regulation.

For Wang Yongzhang's ode to wine: No need to deliberately brew fine liquor—the golden ambrosia (symbolizing the elixir produced through internal alchemy) cultivated within tastes more profound. Drinking spontaneously throughout the day, one becomes blissfully intoxicated, journeying spiritually to the eternally luminous celestial realms.

Harmonizing with Qi Ziming's verse: Shaking off worldly vexations, one cultivates joyfully in the Daoist sanctuary. Embracing the clear breeze and bright moon feels like returning home. A pot of spring's vitality (metaphor for the Dao's natural flow) merges all things with the self in perfect forgetfulness.

Following Fan Qingshu's rhyme: Deep in mountain forests dwell the immortals, leisurely tilling under moonlight. Loving the Milky Way's tranquil winds, they sail celestial boats clad in rosy clouds.

Composed when Master Zhao of East Creek presented tea: Divine water (exquisite tea) in jade cups blended with cinnabar (alchemical ingredient here symbolizing tea leaves), skillfully brewed to form snowflake-like blossoms. The Tang dynasty tea master Lu Tong once savored such flavor—now I fully comprehend this is the "yellow sprout" (Neidan term for nascent Yang energy).

On a humble hermitage: Neither craving bustling cities nor chasing famed mountains, content with quiet poverty and leisure. Night moons and dawn winds make perfect companions, disdaining pursuit of high rank and wealth.

Another recluse poem: Secluded dwelling seeks no comfort, solitary before mist-wreathed green peaks. Standing then walking, sedimenting worldly thoughts; half-singing, half-dancing, occasionally revealing a smile.

For Master Li: Heard admonitions must be practiced—empty talk cannot forge true vessels. Timing the alchemical fire precisely, after forty-nine days even flesh dissolves, astonishing spirits and ghosts.

Harmonizing with Jianxuan's rhyme: The serene studio outshines the moon palace, illuminating all worldly illusions. Each manifest object ceases being burden—inner and outer radiance perfectly interpenetrate.

Another harmonized verse: The empty chamber mirrors clarity, never touched by worldly dust. Light contains all yet remains constant, reflecting without attachment.

Ode to a brush: Sturdy as bone, tip sharp as needle, following yet unrestrained by human hands. Through millennia's waxing and waning, still it drips with unbridled ink.

Sunset Pavilion at Yongzhen Hermitage: Evening sun suspended on forest tips, clear skies stretch endlessly. Rays pierce the cloud-terrace, brightening eyes and mind. Having returned to the golden realm (cultivation state), not a speck of worldly dust remains.

Bamboo at Valley Spirit Hermitage: In the silent valley, by the Daoist hut stand bamboos (Valley Spirit personifies the mountain's numinous presence)... (original text incomplete, describing the bamboo grove's serene scenery)

"Enlightenment Anthology" Modern Interpretation:

In the celestial courtyard stand tall, straight bamboos—their joints firm and hollow, untouched by dust. Their noble spirit defies frost and snow, remaining evergreen through all seasons, forever basking in spring’s vitality.

Some leave home to cultivate the Dao yet fail to attain true awakening. Though they sever worldly attachments in pursuit of transcendence, they remain restless day and night. Boasting of their ability to till the fields of mundane labor, they allow the true field of cultivation (the heart-mind) to lie barren and neglected.

Brewing the elixir of immortality, one becomes blissfully intoxicated in the realm of the immortals. Upon sobering, it feels as though bathed in the profound mystery of no-birth and no-death, the body suddenly filled with golden light and fragrant Qi.

During the Mid-Autumn Festival, the moonlight shines brighter than ice, its pure radiance illuminating the entire golden celestial realm. Having already witnessed the perfect, luminous Dharmakāya (the true nature of reality), there is no need to point at the moon with a finger.

Resting in a thatched hut, wearing straw sandals and leaning on a bamboo staff, one sits in stillness before the pine-framed window as if dwelling in the Great Void (the origin of the cosmos). In the boundless clear sky where the wind has stilled and mist turns cold, one drifts into the dreamlike state of the ancient Hua Xu realm (a legendary utopia).

Beneath the pine-framed window, one loosens the robes of worldly concerns and plays three melodies on a jade lute, accompanied by the scent of aloeswood. The music intertwines with the sifting pine breeze—no need to seek the Penglai Isles to hear such celestial harmonies.

Beyond the heavens lie higher celestial realms, where the creative power of transformation resides. The original essence merges with the Great Void, formless yet manifesting perfect self-nature throughout the ten directions.

The Dao encompasses the Three Realms of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity—do not cling to "no-mind" and force what is natural. Only when cultivation matures will the perfect radiance of the self-nature’s jewel (one’s innate nature) reveal itself.

Not a wisp of cloud veils the bright moon—the innate nature shines brilliantly like the moon at its zenith. Manifesting throughout the Three Realms and Ten Directions (the entire cosmos), its reflection appears simultaneously on a thousand rivers.

The waters of Jin River (in Shanxi) are cold yet unafraid of winter’s chill, steaming as if boiling with mist. Deep within flows the unique Qi of Eternal Spring, unbound by the transformations of Yin and Yang (natural cycles).

A solitary hermitage nestles quietly against cloud-wreathed mountains, its gate rarely marked by carriage tracks, overgrown with moss. After reading the Yellow Court Scripture (a Daoist classic), one watches the curling incense, enjoying tranquility in the company of apes and deer.

Ascending the high tower, one’s vision expands—the boundless clear sky rests in the palm of the hand. In this limpid realm, free of worldly obscurations, it feels as though dwelling in the Moon Palace’s vast serenity.

When bitter cold withers all things, only the ancient plum in the garden stands unyielding. Its pristine blossoms fear not the biting wind, blooming serenely amid snow-laden branches.

Like an untethered fishing boat, one drifts freely with the ocean currents. When inspiration strikes, songs arise—roaming with fellow cultivator Yang Renlao, body and mind dissolve into the vastness of the cosmos.

The poems from the Qizhen Ji reveal the transcendent realm of Daoist practitioners and their natural, enlightened way of life.

The first poem depicts the practitioner’s state of contentment wherever they may be, remaining unmoved by the changing seasons in Jambudvīpa (the human world in Buddhist terms). The cultivation achieved is likened to a luminous treasure—scattered, it becomes wind; gathered, it transforms into spirit (Shen), embodying the profound Daoist principle of "free gathering and scattering."

The second poem discusses the essential method of alchemy (Neidan), emphasizing the precise timing for refining lead and mercury (symbolizing Yin and Yang Qi). The slightest misstep leads to failure, but with daily refinement, one can ultimately forge the Golden Elixir (Jindan), illuminating body and mind like a flawless pearl.

In the poem dedicated to Master Wang, the tranquil life of mountain cultivation is portrayed—daily progress in the Dao, maintaining a mind as clear as the ancient recluse Xu You (who famously discarded his gourd to renounce worldly ties).

The poem on sudden rain uses the imagery of ink-splashed clouds and storms to allude to life’s impermanence, yet clarity always returns after the tempest, symbolizing the practitioner’s detachment from worldly illusions.

Though mountain life is austere, it is enriched by the company of apes and deer, the quiet burning of sandalwood, and the realization of the Dao within a humble thatched gate. When seeking a recluse in vain, only falling blossoms are found—a metaphor for the serendipity required on the path to enlightenment.

In Evening Light on the Western Pavilion, sunlight illuminates all things, revealing the truth that "the Dao is right before one’s eyes," with no need for external seeking. Roaming with friends, ascending heights brings bodily and mental coolness, embodying the Daoist practice of "tranquil non-action" (Wuwei).

The series on Golden Peak Temple describes the sacred surroundings—ancient cypresses reaching the heavens, auspicious clouds (Qingyun) appearing—affirming that the essence of cultivation lies here, not in distant journeys to Caoxi (the Chan Buddhist ancestral seat). It critiques worldly pursuits of fame and wealth, oblivious to the serenity of this place for nurturing the mind.

Finally, the poems for Grandmaster Zhao and in reply to Feng Zhongxiang stress the importance of mastering the "fire times" (the 3,000 stages of alchemical refinement). True practice transcends textual fixation, following the Middle Way of the Dao to realize the wondrous realm of emptiness. Together, these poems illuminate the essence of Daoist reclusion and internal alchemy (Neidan).

The Qizhen Ji scripture expounds essential cultivation methods and common pitfalls, employing vivid metaphors to convey profound principles.

True practice is not mere empty-minded sitting. Like exhausting one's strength through dispirited meditation, blind cultivation only depletes one's vital essence (Shen). Authentic practice requires understanding the fundamental method of "gathering medicinal herbs" (collecting internal Qi) and mastering the application of "firing times" (regulation of intention during practice), thereby nurturing genuine vitality. Neither forced effort nor complete inaction (Wuwei) constitutes the correct approach; likewise, rigid adherence to visualization techniques is misguided. True cultivation lies in comprehending the mystery of the "lead cauldron and mercury crucible" (symbolizing the confluence of Yin-Yang within the body), where essence (Jing) and energy (Qi) coalesce, and spiritual light emerges from within.

Animal metaphors further illustrate this: the dragon represents the ethereal soul (Hun), the lungs embody the corporeal soul (Po), the crow symbolizes primordial essence (Yuanjing), and the hare signifies the heart-mind. Cultivation resembles harmonizing these forces, ultimately achieving the state of "blending radiance with common dust" (union with the Dao).

When Lü Hezhi inquired about cultivation methods, the response emphasized eliminating Yin energy (negative influences). Without dispelling Yin energy, disturbances inevitably arise. One must firmly grasp the crucial "true message" (essential cultivation secret) to progress unimpeded.

Regarding the Golden Elixir (Jindan, the supreme achievement of internal alchemy), it emerges from "non-being" into "being." Avoid clinging to notions of "emptiness"—true emptiness is the integrated state realized through profound insight into void-nature.

In Neidan practice, concentration resembles water's purity, while wisdom embodies fire's nature. The heart is mercury (dynamic Qi), the body is lead (stable substance). When skill matures, coagulation occurs momentarily; the "ten-month gestation" (cultivation cycle) brings immortal attainment.

Subsequent verses employ rich imagery to elucidate cultivation principles: a solitary soul banner guides departed spirits toward liberation; "peeling stubborn bark" symbolizes shedding attachments; summer pomegranate blossoms yielding to autumn chrysanthemum frost depict maintaining original mind through temporal flux; lanterns during the Yuanxiao festival reveal innate nature amidst clamor; woodpeckers removing tree parasites mirror practitioners eliminating mental distractions; learning zither-playing without fixating on strings hints at the Dao residing within; weiqi's black-white rivalry represents transcending dualities in cultivation.

These teachings collectively emphasize grasping fundamentals beyond forms, harmonizing Yin-Yang, and ultimately uniting with the Dao.

Understanding that all things in the world share the same essence, there is no need for panic or fear regarding the cycle of life and death.

Liu Xian inquired about the crucial point of alchemical practice, where the slightest deviation would prevent the formation of the Golden Elixir (Jindan). The ten-month cultivation period is divided into thirty thousand ke (a Daoist time unit), requiring continuous practice whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down. Each ke of effort accumulates merit equivalent to a year's cultivation, and thirty thousand ke can seize the transformative power of heaven and earth.

Another question concerned the method of constantly applying the Three Wonders (Jing, Qi, Shen). During the thirty thousand ke of cultivation, harmonious balance must be maintained—a single ke of deviation would deplete the medicinal ingredients (cultivation resources), making the Golden Elixir impossible to form.

Xu Xian asked about the specific method of cultivation. Water and fire (Yin-Yang) must be harmonized properly, while lead and mercury (the two Qi of Yin-Yang) are refined through cooking and enter the Dantian (energy center). Over time, they gradually coalesce, ultimately forming the formless and intangible Sacred Embryo (Golden Elixir).

Li Daokuan inquired about the key to spiritual practice. The body contains true Qi, while the heart nurtures primordial essence (Yuanjing). Through refinement, these two can achieve spiritual realization. If one maintains even thirty percent of the will to cultivate, they can remain lucid and awakened through all trials and tribulations.

Regarding the subjugation of lead and mercury: lead and mercury easily scatter when encountering fire, requiring the method of Wuwei (non-action) to stabilize them. Lead returns to the Kun Palace (lower Dantian), mercury returns to the Qian position (upper Dantian), and by harmonizing water and fire, the alchemical process can proceed without error.

Zuo Lao asked about the ultimate state of attainment. First, forget the physical form and focus on nurturing Qi; then forget Qi and focus on nurturing Shen (spirit); finally, even forget Shen to reach the state of emptiness, merging with the Dao—this is true attainment.

On the beginner's attachment to emptiness: The Dao is never far from humans; it is humans who distance themselves from the Dao. If one realizes the Dao, the Dao will naturally come to them. Understand that the nature of mind is originally empty—deliberately seeking emptiness will not lead to true emptiness.

It was further pointed out: One must distance themselves from all doubts and disturbances, maintaining right mindfulness to open the gate of myriad wonders. See through illusory attachments, keeping the mind like a clear mirror, unstained by dust.

Li Miaozhen asked about the state of unity with emptiness. Attachment to awareness before or after realization is not true realization—only by letting go of attachment to the body can one experience perfect universality. Maintaining a state of correct concentration, free from thought and worry, suddenly merges one with the vast emptiness.

A warning about the teaching of dreams: To speak of dreams within a dream is double delusion; attachment to external forms is a third layer of delusion. Following conditions gives rise to illusions, and these delusions always obstruct the true mind.

It was further noted: All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows; many clinging thoughts are demons of the mind. Arising from conditions, they are fundamentally empty.

This section of the Qizhen Ji explores the lived insights and cultivation experiences of Daoist practitioners, using poetic form to express realizations about "true nature" (真性).

The first poem observes that while the human body is not eternally real, neither does it abruptly vanish—a subtle state of being. Dreams serve as a metaphor: dreams are illusory, and so is the body; thoughts struggle within this illusion, yet even the dream itself is unreal. A lifetime clinging to the concept of "self" is ultimately baseless, for there is no substantial "I"—even the notion of "self" is empty.

When asked about transcending the workings of creation (造化), the response is that the myriad transformations of nature are in fact an undivided whole. Practitioners must stand aloof in serene clarity, maintaining luminous awareness while holding fast to their original truth without deviation. Describing the movement of sun and moon, the poem uses "golden crow" (金乌, the sun) and "toad palace" (蟾宫, the moon) as metaphors, suggesting cultivation should flow as naturally as celestial motion, ultimately refining the pure "snow-white body" (白雪肌, a state of perfected purity).

On the method of stilling thoughts: when thoughts arise, they must be instantly recognized and pacified—the observing mind must not delay. If one swiftly notices and halts thoughts, the wondrous Dao (妙道) will manifest. A poem on snow depicts the practitioner’s environment: winding mountain paths, biting cold, yet upon ascending to gaze afar, the heart-mind suddenly expands like the vastness within a gourd.

Secluded Living by West Creek portrays a hermit’s life: the jade-clear chill of the stream outside the door brings peace and openness. Awakening from a dream of Huaxu (华胥国, a Daoist utopia), nothing more is needed than pine tea and sandalwood incense. The Eternal Truth Grass Pavilion describes a simple thatched hall built by a reclusive adept—earthen steps, rush windows, yet filled with quiet elegance, accompanied by moonlight and breeze, visited by apes and cranes, symbolizing a life of cultivation that is humble yet noble.

For the Recluse of Western Hills depicts a hermit who scorns worldly fame, keeping company with mist and glow, sustained by acorns and sesame (胡麻, a staple for ascetics), finding joy in medicine cauldrons and scriptures. By day, gazing at mountain hues; by night, listening to pines and apes, he realizes all phenomena return to One, with only true nature standing alone.

Admonition to All stresses maintaining a heart-mind of pristine clarity, harmonizing the "six qi" (六气, influences on body and spirit), unshaken by storms. Cultivation requires accumulating "yellow sprouts" (黄芽, Neidan term for primordial qi) and treasuring "white snow" (白雪, pure spirit). In this realm of stillness, practice unfolds naturally, ultimately merging with the void.

The conclusion states that cultivation should be continuous yet effortless, opening the profound heart-mind far from worldly clamor. The "two wheels" (二轮, likely sun and moon) illuminate the nine heavens; winds from the "three isles" (三岛, Penglai and other immortal mountains) echo across the seas. All deluded thoughts are as worthless as rubble—only true nature stands transcendent.

This scripture describes the state attained by practitioners who reach profound levels of cultivation. "Dissolving the four karmic retributions" refers to completely breaking free from the four types of bondage caused by karmic forces (the consequences arising from past actions), melting away like ice and snow. At this stage, the mind becomes empty and luminous, no longer clinging to anything, with a mental state as vast and unobstructed as the void.

"A nature of crystalline purity" depicts the practitioner's return to their original, authentic nature (the inherently pure and undefiled essence of being), which is luminous and untainted. "Transcending eternity" signifies that this awakened state surpasses the constraints of time, existing eternally beyond the ages.

The entire passage portrays the supreme realm where Daoist cultivators, through their practice, dissolve karmic obstructions and return to their pure, original nature. In this state, the practitioner's mind becomes as clear as a polished mirror, undisturbed by external influences, transcending the cycles of life and death.

"Courtyard Full of Fragrance I":

The Daoist's mind wanders free as a solitary cloud, untethered by worldly ties. In the Jade Pool of the Nine Heavens (the highest Daoist celestial realm), spiritual springs flow ceaselessly, nourishing the "yellow sprouts" (a Neidan term for the nascent primordial Qi) and auspicious herbs of immortality. These numinous emanations radiate pure light, enveloping golden lotuses. The true marvel of cultivation is like a gentle breeze sweeping across the land—a profound sensation that penetrates to the marrow. When practice reaches the state where self and objects are forgotten, one stands serenely atop the Zen heavens, unmoved by the transformations of Yin-Yang or the coming of kalpas. This eternal Dharmadhatu (a Buddhist term for the realm of absolute truth) abides in tranquil spontaneity, free from birth and cessation. Its luminous, mysterious essence is as clear as a cloudless sky stretching ten thousand miles.

"Courtyard Full of Fragrance II: For Hou Botong, Skilled in Calculation":

Endowed with extraordinary talent, you master the calculations of heaven and earth—measuring the heights of celestial bodies and the depths of oceans. You discern the vastness of mountains and rivers, even the minutest details within the four directions. Yet you must broaden your mind further to seek the fundamental truth. Take the principle of "nine nines returning to one" as your guide, refining the Qi and Jing in your Dantian (the Daoist energy center), circulating the dual forces of Yin and Yang. When you accumulate three thousand merits and dissolve eight hundred karmic obstructions, you will fully grasp the supreme essence of the Dao.

"Courtyard Full of Fragrance III: A Warning to Fallen Practitioners":

Some merely adjust their Daoist robes, feigning purity while indulging like wild horses and unruly apes. Flaunting so-called "Daoist connections" in the chase for fame and fortune, they drift with the current, never truly settling their hearts. Pitiable are those who posture in vain, betraying their original aspiration for the profound Dao. Reflect deeply—do not wait until time slips away and your hair turns white. Gather your scattered thoughts, sow wisdom in the field of your mind, and reclaim your innate luminous awareness. Cultivate virtue unceasingly. Pass through the threefold trials (stages of Daoist refinement), perfecting both form and spirit, until at last you soar freely into immortality.

"Prelude to Water Melody":

The Daoist who comprehends the wondrous taste of birthlessness sees the sun and moon in harmonious interplay—symbolizing the union of Yin and Yang. Like a raven leaving its nest, they transcend the mundane, as the spiritual tree bears precious "stamen pearls" (a Neidan term). In the glow of the silver toad (the moon), Chang'e's figure appears, as if feasting on golden nectar at the Jade Pool. Through the work of "seven returns and nine restorations" (the Neidan cycles of Qi circulation), they forge an indestructible body of pure Yang, abiding peacefully in the Dharmadhatu. Gathering and scattering follow nature's course, yet the initiative in cultivation lies within oneself. The profound truth is not complicated—the entire Dharma-realm's wisdom is contained within the inch-square heart (the nature of mind).

The most precious treasure in human life is the innate Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) Qi, the spiritual endowment bestowed by heaven. Our bodies—with round heads and square feet—mirror heaven and earth, yet are shaped by the interplay of Yin and Yang energies. Spring blossoms and autumn moons, yesterday's dawn and today's morning—time flies swiftly, youth fades quickly. The road ahead is treacherous, leaving one helpless in the end. Upon reflection, apart from this physical form, all worldly wealth and honor are but external attachments. Better to shatter the clinging thoughts within, harmonize the dragon and tiger (symbolizing Yin-Yang energies) through quiet cultivation, and nurture the luminous jewel of spirit. When the inner celestial light manifests, it transforms into a radiant pearl, illuminating the void and soaring alone amidst rosy clouds.

Like fine jade from Mount Jing, polished by artisans into vessels, the profound mystery between heaven and earth lies in the clear distinction of Yin-Yang apertures (key bodily gateways), mirroring the sun and moon's alternation. The Eight Trigrams and Nine Palaces (representing meditational spatial arrangements) revolve within the inch-square heart-field—the crux being the fusion of Wood nature (Yi-Wood) with Metal nature. Practitioners who grasp this truth can move celestial phenomena. By subtly activating primordial Jing (essential life force), one silently stirs the momentum of thunder and lightning. Through countless cycles along the destined path, silvery threads (representing vital Qi) dance wildly. Fragrance permeates, purifying body and mind—only then does one behold the true countenance, radiant as snow, finally recognizing one's original face.

The beginning of cultivation resembles undifferentiated chaos, where seizing the pivotal moment is key. The genuine Qi in the kidneys (Kan representing water) sprouts secretly like earthly vapors rising as auspicious clouds. Thunder and lightning symbolize the union of Yin and Yang, ultimately transforming into gentle rain. Qi circulation resembles crossing the celestial river, condensing into divine water within the Dantian (jade cauldron). Through the ninefold refinement of the Golden Elixir (Neidan process), the pure Yang body is perfected. The liberated Shen (spirit) transcends physical constraints, manifesting wondrous functions while reveling in heaven and earth as its stage. Free and unfettered, responding to conditions without attachment, one merges completely with the Dao, instantly transcending the cycle of life and death.

The teachings of Celestial Origin reveal the true path, like golden lotuses blooming everywhere. Commoners and officials alike devoutly revere them. Those with affinity hear the teachings—awakened minds find cooling clarity, while those who turn away only accumulate vexations. O seekers of truth! Open your wisdom eyes to behold the moon-bright mind shining through eternity. Realize all phenomena are empty, abandon deluded thoughts, and instantly dissolve attachments. The true state is inherently unstained—sever all discriminatory thinking. Myriad realms return to a single thought; in solitary enlightenment, perfect brightness dwells in serene stillness—pure, untouchable, wholly one with the Supreme Void (Taixu), without distinction.

The "Water Dragon Chant" says: Chasing after officialdom's hustle, coveting rank and position—when will these worldly affairs ever cease? Even with archer Yi's sun-shooting skill (metaphor for great capability)... [original text fragmentary here]

These passages from the Qizhen Ji describe the realms of cultivation and essential techniques for Daoist practitioners.

The first passage states: What use is high reputation? Do not cling to fame and achievement; know when to withdraw gracefully. Release worldly attachments and transcend like the ancients, enjoying the true delight of boating on the lake. Maintain an enlightened and tranquil mind, free and unconstrained like drifting clouds and flowing water. The heart must be open and magnanimous, nurturing the spirit (Shen) and vital energy (Qi) without restraint, harmonizing nature (Xing) and life (Ming). Perceive the true nature of all things, severing worldly ties as decisively as a sharp blade cutting tangled hemp.

The second passage, addressed to Li Yuanfa, discusses Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation: The primordial Qi (innate vital energy) circulates throughout the body, flowing through all meridians before returning to the Dantian (the lower energy center, symbolized as the "cauldron of Qian"). The interaction of Yin and Yang (dragon and tiger) transforms essence (Jing) and energy (Qi), transcending the mundane. Through the practice of "seven returns and nine restorations" (a Neidan term referring to celestial cycles), the great medicine (internal elixir) is refined, attaining divine and wondrous states. The radiance of the elixir illuminates the spiritual platform (the seat of consciousness), pure as snow. When cultivation reaches perfection, the true nature (original mind) manifests like the bright moon, shining flawlessly through the cosmos. This dharma state (the realized realm of cultivation) is eternal and indestructible.

The third passage, praising Yang Daokuan’s painting, notes his mastery: His skill has reached the state of Samadhi (meditative absorption), capturing the ancient simplicity of the Dao’s origin (Xuan Yuan). With gold and pigments, he paints solemn Daoist images that awe and subdue demons. His art embodies the true meaning of scriptures, guiding people toward the Great Dao. While the external form is dignified, the inner mind must understand the forgetting of self and objects. Within Wuwei (non-action) lies subtle function; though formless, it responds freely to circumstances. The heart must embrace all directions, aligning with the emptiness of the Supreme Void (the cosmic origin).

The fourth passage describes the life of a recluse: The leisurely find joy in zither and books, selling medicine and healing (with talismanic water, a Daoist practice). Seeing through the vanity of reputation, they abandon worldly ties. Like withered wood, they remain desireless, constantly contemplating their innate nature (the "moon of the mind" symbolizes luminous awareness). Letting go of attachments to spirit (Shen) and energy (Qi), they cultivate the body of emptiness and stillness. Refining true wisdom, they attain the pure dharma body. This state is perfectly unobstructed, the dharma body solemn and pure, abiding in the eternal realm of true suchness (ultimate reality).

The poem Sheng Sheng Man says: In a humble dwelling (Heng Men), one nurtures vast and righteous Qi, like hidden radiance within fine jade. Content with simplicity, one forgets cunning schemes. Holding heaven and earth (symbolizing mastery of cosmic principles), one embodies the cultivator’s union with the Dao.

The Kun body (referring to the human form) has the capacity to generate and transform all things, sustaining the ceaseless circulation of Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) through the three Dantian (upper, middle, and lower energy centers). Daily practice flows like water in a channel, constantly regulating the entire body. The "nectar of jade" (symbolizing refined substances within the body) quenches thirst, while the "elixir of jade" (the essence cultivated through practice) satisfies hunger. In the state of "bathing" (a meditative state), the primordial Shen (spirit) manifests its mysterious form, harmonizing with the realm of perfect integration, maintaining clarity and joy whether in motion or stillness. Neither sinking into delusion nor clinging to attachments, the body of emptiness and stillness remains flawless—ever awake and independent, transcendent in its serenity yet undeniably real, embodying the true delight of Wuwei (non-action), revealing the virtues of Dao and De (Virtue/Power), and propagating the principles of the Great Dao.

The second passage discusses the practice of refining the Mysterious Pass (a crucial acupoint in the body): one must maintain focus like a night watchman striking the clapper, steadfastly holding the state of "embracing the One" without wavering. Though aware of illumination, one dwells in obscurity, concealing sharpness. With the gentle fire of a breeze, one circulates Jing and Qi, passing through the Three Barriers (key stages of cultivation), transforming them into sweet dew like a soft wind crossing the sea. Descending, it condenses into the Four Symbols (stages of energy transformation), forming true Mercury (a term for refined energy), which slowly moistens the Hua Pool (saliva in the mouth). Through the Nine Cycles of the Golden Elixir, one ultimately refines a body as pure as gold, with the "Divine Chamber" (the abode of the heart-mind) radiating brilliance. The perfected, luminous form manifests, displaying boundless wonders whether in the human realm or the heavens. Neither clinging to "existence" nor falling into "emptiness," it remains untainted by worldly dust, abiding alone in the realm of serene emptiness, observing the original mind free from all attachments. When the wondrous function of true emptiness appears, one transcends the cycle of rebirth, with the sword of wisdom held aloft.

The third passage offers advice to fellow practitioner Wang Yanbao: dissolve distinctions between self and others, and regard worldly status with indifference. Awaken spiritual awareness to recognize the present moment and reflect on past mistakes. Examine your innate luminous nature and cease enduring the suffering of rebirth. Now is a fortunate time, as the true wind of the Dao prevails—a moment when immortals select worthy candidates. Resolve to cultivate, dare to relinquish familial ties, and hold worldly riches lightly. Seek the profound mysteries hidden in mist-shrouded depths, sever all delusive thoughts, and abide in the state of Wuwei. Safeguard your true nature, penetrate the light, and rigorously uphold precepts. Dwell within the wondrous body of mystical emptiness, manifesting spiritual radiance that follows you in and out. The path ahead is clear—steadily ascend to the shore of awakening and step confidently onto the ladder of immortality.

"Shang Danxiao" describes the vision of cultivation: the pure Yang Qi returns to the Water of the Kidneys (the Gui realm), where Yin and Yang quietly gestate. In the Dantian, shaped like a reclining moon, the forms of the Dragon and Tiger (symbolizing Yin and Yang energies) manifest, naturally uniting in their proper season. Without deliberate effort, the Three Bodies (Jing, Qi, and Shen) merge into one, filling the "Dry Cauldron" (upper Dantian) with the fragrance of "Yellow Sprouts" (the nascent elixir). The mind is as clear as a bright pearl, thoughts as lucid as the moon, the heart as warm as jade, and the body as firm as gold—revealing a pure Yang form that dissolves all Yin impurities. This is the true appearance, appearing and disappearing according to conditions, revered even by spirits. Equal in clarity to the Great Void, untouched by the finest dust, it transcends past and present.

"Yi Zhi Hua" depicts the immortal realm: within a jade pot lies a golden world, where the sun and moon shine together. Immortal youths make their living gathering medicinal herbs, lingering in scenes of elegance. Daily, they search the southwestern streams for spiritual herbs, collecting them to store in the azure sea. Through the Nine Cycles of the Golden Elixir, they form golden crystals (the Golden Elixir), returning to the origin where nothing decays. Fragrance permeates the entire body like swirling mist, rising from the soles of the feet at Yongquan to the crown at the Niwan Palace.

These passages from the Qizhen Ji elucidate the core principles of Daoist cultivation. In modern terms:

The first section describes the state of one who has attained the Dao: transcending the limitations of the material world, with an inner luminosity and clarity undisturbed by movement or stillness. This state encompasses all things past and present, moving freely without obstruction. Like pruning plum blossoms to remove distracting thoughts, the text references an exchange with fellow practitioner Zhang Sanlao: the passage of time brings aging (where "lead and mercury" represent the body's vital essences), but by nurturing the Three Treasures (Jing, Qi, and Shen) and guarding the Five Passes (eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and mind), one can absorb the essence of sun and moon to crystallize the Golden Elixir (Jinlan) within, attaining the carefree state beyond worldly concerns.

When Li Huishou inquires about the Dao, the author explains its fundamental nature: The Great Dao has no fixed form, and we reluctantly name it "Dao." It harmonizes the Qi of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), penetrates the six directions of heaven and earth, and contains the spiritual nature of all things. The Dao itself has no emotions, scent, or sound. Practitioners must relinquish attachments to enter the undifferentiated state of primordial chaos (yaoming), neither clinging to emptiness nor form, thus realizing the Dao's eternal truth.

The second section discusses cultivation methods: joyfully pursue the Great Dao, abandoning trivial pursuits ("snail-shell fame and fly-head profits"). Regulate the balance of water and fire (representing Yin and Yang Qi) within the body until all meridians flow freely, ultimately crystallizing the internal elixir (Danning) to manifest pure radiance. The Dao's mysterious substance eludes grasp yet manifests through all phenomena.

The third section warns against common errors: The Dao is fundamentally ordinary, yet like light invisible to the blind. Some obsess over extraordinary methods (bianjiao) and lose the true path. Open the Heavenly Gate (Baihui point at the crown) and close the Earthly Door (Huiyin point at the perineum), guiding Yang Qi up the spine (the profound pathway) to ultimately form the elixir and attain the Dao.

The fourth section addresses attachment: people mistake illusory desires for reality ("mistaking bitter accumulations"), dragged by external conditions. One should perceive all phenomena's essential emptiness—not dead void but dynamic vacuum pregnant with wondrous function. Like playing with emptiness atop Mount Kunlun, this emptiness isn't absence but total inclusion.

Finally, the Jiangshenzi Ling explains Neidan principles: Metal (lungs) and Wood (liver) mutually generate and store, while Fire (heart) refines them. Through the rising and sinking of Yin-Yang Qi (Geng and Jia), one returns to the origin, uniting Hun and Po souls into pure unity.

The Qizhen Ji presents several poetic passages describing the experiential insights of Daoist cultivation.

The first section depicts the natural circulation of Yin-Yang energies during practice. When these primal forces flow harmoniously within, one hears celestial tones resembling zither music that awaken innate spirituality, transcending temporal boundaries. This omnipresent state reveals one's original true nature with crystalline clarity.

The second passage ("Visitation from Western Mountain Recluse") illustrates destined encounters between adepts—as precisely matched as needle tip meeting wheat awn. Through dialogue, they dissolve the "three Yin" constraints (referring to three obstructive energies), transforming Yang qi into jade nectar within. Accompanied by the resonant music of Dao—like a stringless zither's cosmic harmonies—their swirling vital energies command reverence from spirits. This mysterious union of heaven and human defies ordinary comprehension.

The third segment employs torrential river imagery to depict qi circulation. Vital energy surges like coiling dragons and prowling tigers, its majestic currents circling the body like the mythical Kunlun peaks. This practice vibrates through body-mind, revealing golden-sand radiance merging with emptiness. The practitioner's dharma body (refined spiritual form) expands boundlessly—infinitely adaptable yet eternally serene—achieving perfect unobstructed integration.

The fourth passage warns against cultivation complacency. Arrogance resembles runaway steeds straying from the Path, while worldly indulgence distances one from immortality. One must reorient practice according to celestial patterns and terrestrial principles.

"Chrysanthemum Contemplation" (fifth section) employs autumn blossoms as spiritual metaphors. When all flora withers, these frost-defying flowers embody the transcendent state. Their golden perfection manifests Chongyang (pure Yang) reality, directly revealing the unmoving marvel of original mind.

The final admonition ("To Junior Li the Awaiting Edict") urges timely practice: life evaporates like drying glue. Without prompt cultivation, one drowns in samsara. Like alchemical refinement—first gathering essential Jing (represented by lead), nurturing medicinal sprouts in the Dantian (Warrior's Capital Terrace), through ninefold cyclings—one ultimately achieves the Golden Elixir (Blossom Pearl). Then divine powers manifest at will, and Penglai's immortal realms appear before one's eyes.

The poems from the Qizhen Ji describe the spiritual states and cultivation methods of Daoist practitioners. Here’s a modern interpretation:

The first poem speaks of how adepts remain indifferent to worldly praise and blame, free from worry, passing their days in ease. With a mind empty and unobstructed, they take the whole cosmos as their dwelling, effortlessly harmonizing the "dragon and tiger" (a metaphor for balancing Yin and Yang). The formation of "purple-gold frost" (referring to the internal elixir, or Neidan) follows its natural rhythms; after circulating through the celestial cycles, it is gathered by the "jade youth" (the inner spirit, or Shen). Once the mysterious Dao-body is perfected, one may claim victory in the celestial contests.

The second poem advises Liu, the assembly leader, not to exhaust himself chasing material comforts and fame, which only breed suffering. Rather than spinning in the wheel of rebirth, he should turn inward to cultivate himself. He must rein in the "monkey of the mind and horse of the will" (restless thoughts), preserve the "mercury and lead" (alchemical terms for Jing, Qi, and Shen), and refine them according to the proper "fire phases" (cultivation timing). When the body becomes pure Yang, it will illuminate the universe like a radiant pearl.

The Magnolia Flower Order describes Neidan practice: Within the "strings" of the energy channels (Qi meridians), the interplay of Yin and Yang unfolds, with "Kan and Li" (Water and Fire) in harmonious exchange. These two energies are tempered in the alchemical furnace (the Dantian), their rare fragrance coalescing into the Golden Elixir. This state transcends form, shining as brilliantly as empty space itself.

Treading on Grass portrays the adept’s realm: Silent and free of contrivance, serene and embracing simplicity—this subtle state eludes ordinary understanding. In primordial chaos, the "divine pearl" (one’s true nature) is purified; in stillness, the "moon of the heart" (wisdom) emerges. When the kalpas dissolve, the mind becomes clear as ice, neither increasing nor decreasing, liberated beyond birth and death.

Another poem speaks of forgetting contrivance in both movement and stillness, severing worldly ties upon awakening. The "lamp of the heart" (awareness) remains ever bright, illuminating the void with wisdom. Abiding in purity without attachment, one roams freely in the realm of true suchness (Zhenru), transcending distinctions of self and other to savor the joy of the Real.

The Immortal’s Staff likens a walking cane to a ritual implement: Slender as a crane’s leg, it accompanies the adept through clouds and streams. It points the way through confusion, steadies them in peril, harmonizes the dragon and tiger (Yin-Yang), and even stirs the radiance of sun and moon.

Song of the Southern Branch describes the state of cultivation: The body is as empty and pure as the sky, the mind as steady as Mount Tai. No deluded thoughts disturb it—this is true carefree wandering.

The first poem discusses the realm of cultivation: Maintaining inner purity free from distractions brings tranquility wherever one may be. The awakened state shines like a luminous pearl beneath the sea, while the sky of meditation remains crystal clear. One's true nature is as complete and radiant as the winter moon—never obscured, always brilliant. Whether releasing or gathering thoughts, all occurs within the space of a square inch, yet the mind expands vast as the heavens.

The second poem admonishes those straying from the Dao: After prolonged stillness, restlessness arises again as one willingly drowns in the ocean of desires. The immortal path and worldly life differ as clouds from mud—once parted, the celestial ladder becomes unreachable. Don't imitate the myopic wren clinging to tiny branches. May you aspire like the legendary Kun fish of the northern sea, destined to transform into the great roc, preparing to soar across the celestial pool.

The third poem answers Zhang Daoyi's question about "yellow sprouts" (a Neidan term for nascent yang energy): As yang energy stirs, yin responds, nurturing the yellow sprouts. Five petals (symbolizing the qi of five organs) unfold in the yellow court (Dantian), blooming with violet-gold essence. The first grains of divine elixir crystallize, growing within pure radiance. Serenely allow auroral light to permeate your being, merging inner and outer brilliance until the entire dharma realm awakens in clarity.

The fourth poem describes meditative states: Whether sitting or reclining, maintain crystalline awareness with slow, continuous breath. Nine warming qi currents gather in the lead cauldron (Dantian), nourishing the body like jade nectar. Three elixirs within the abdomen take form while the heart remains utterly empty. Forge robust health that merges with boundless emptiness. Manifest true reality within wakefulness, returning to primordial origins.

"Golden Cup" depicts reclusive life: Lay down worldly concerns to dwell joyfully among mountains. Dragon's breath incense warms the sandalwood tripod—drinking in winter's chill, sipping tea against the cold. With lucid mind and substantial abdomen (sign of cultivation achievement), keep company with deer and apes. Purify the spiritual source until lotuses bloom from heart-fire, their cool wisdom dispelling worldly ties. Awaken the five eyes (physical, celestial, etc.) to perceive profound truth. Sea-moon mirrors the luminous pearl, their perfect radiance mutually illuminating.

"Parting the Jade Pendant: Lament for Moths" uses moths as metaphor: Moths by nature chase illusions, trapped in suffering, obsessed with candlelight's flicker. They scorch themselves diving into flames yet still mistake fireflies for glorious blaze. Though drawn to light, their attachment to dark visions proves futile, bringing swift demise. Recognizing fire's true nature to keep distance allows dwelling in cool tranquility, transcending alone.

The final poem portrays serene living: With mind like clear water, nurture vast qi undisturbed by worldly dust. Secluded by forest springs where carriages never come, simple freedom prevails. Let moss carpet the gate, petals scatter freely across the courtyard. Keep company with cranes calling through dew and gibbons wailing under bright moon—daily communing with pine blossoms and jade herbs. Rest content in Wuwei, seeking nothing beyond. Realize the jewel in your robe (inherent Buddha-nature) shines before you—this very place is Penglai's fairy isle.

This passage from the Qizhen Ji primarily discusses mental cultivation and spiritual states in Daoist practice. I'll explain it section by section:

On the realization of "Emptiness":

Do not cling to external forms, lest you remain trapped in ignorance. What appears as emptiness actually contains profound mystery. True emptiness is not mere nothingness, but the undifferentiated primal state from which all things emerge. Understanding this constitutes genuine "perfect emptiness." When you perceive all phenomena as empty—neither generating deluded thoughts nor clinging to emptiness itself—you attain profound wisdom, ultimately reaching the complete state of luminous emptiness.

Descriptions of internal cultivation (Wannian Chun three poems):

During quiet inner observation, one may hear the wondrous interaction of water and fire energies (representing yin and yang) within, resonating like a dragon's roar and tiger's growl. It resembles swirling winds and waves enveloped in celestial light. Through alchemical refinement (referring to neidan practice), the golden elixir coalesces like precious treasure forged in a crucible, illuminating heaven and earth while purifying body and mind of all dust.

In daily practice, one companions with clear breeze and bright moon, heart free from attachments. Listening quietly to monkey cries seems to expound the truth of birthlessness and deathlessness. The inner mind becomes cool and transparent, utterly without distraction—inner and outer radiance merging as if dwelling in empty space.

Mid-Autumn Moon Contemplation:

Autumn moonlight washes over ten thousand miles of clear sky like water; pure winds sweep through heaven and earth like flawless crystal. When stars fade, the moon's essential form (symbolizing original nature) stands fully revealed. In this white radiance, the spirit wanders the great void, as if climbing the lunar cassia tree.

Essential Practice Methods (Wuling Chun):

People awaken to the Dao through words, but after realization must transcend language. Like discarding fishing gear after catching the fish—clinging to tools becomes obstruction. Practice silent cultivation, concentrate qi and quiet delusions, making the heart as clear as a cold moon shining on azure skies.

True Meaning of Meditation:

The dharma realm (cosmic truth) is fundamentally one mind. Abiding peacefully in the present while severing all karmic attachments reveals luminous states beyond heaven-earth distinctions. Deliberately pursuing meditative signs distances one from meditation—its nature resembles moonlight reflecting in deep pools. Maintain serene purity whether moving or still—this marvelous functioning constitutes true meditation.

Descriptions of Cultivation States:

Through the seven returns and nine restorations (neidan terminology for jing-qi circulation), yin qualities are subdued as host and guest positions reverse. When practice power matures, miraculous states suddenly manifest—piercing through heaven and earth, illuminating past and present. Body and mind settle into stillness, riding cranes and harnessing winds in unimpeded north-south journeys, fully enjoying true joy.

Exhortation to Practice:

Practitioners should appear outwardly soft while harboring inward resolve. The golden crucible (dantian) fills with life-extending elixirs; the jade furnace (heart fire) constantly burns true incense, maintaining mental clarity. Penetrating mysteries makes one sovereign of the dharma, subduing all demons. Wielding the three yang and nine qi (cosmic essences) like commanding troops, one manifests the Dao's radiance everywhere.

The section "The Dust-Laden Traveler" describes how people in the mundane world are constantly troubled by various desires, their minds as restless as monkeys hanging on a wall. Chasing after pleasures is like galloping on a wild horse—ultimately all effort proves futile. People often torment themselves within familiar environments, persisting in toils they know are bitter, their hearts tangled like knotted hemp. Rather than this, one should sever the entanglements of passions and calmly cultivate the Dao, finding leisurely joy in spiritual practice. Only thus might one escape the cycle of life and death.

"Picking Mulberries" reveals the essential method of Daoist cultivation: firmly maintain the mysterious and empty Dao-mind within. When the spirit truly reaches this state of emptiness and stillness, the misty Qi (referring to primordial energy) will naturally coalesce into the Dao-embryo. This spiritual essence is conceived from emptiness, like planting the sun and moon in the void. Practitioners must constantly maintain this state, as if intoxicated by the immortal wine of Kunlun, reclining peacefully on the Danterrace (place of cultivation). Upon enlightenment, one commands the Three Platforms (referring to the three Dantians), and countless kalpas of delusion instantly vanish like smoke.

"Moon Over West River" numerically describes the elixir refinement process: a single spark of yang energy germinates in the lower Dantian (the Water Palace), while two currents of Qi rise like wind toward the heavens. When essence passes through the Three Passes (coccyx, spine-jade pillow), it transforms into sweet dew nourishing the entire body. The True Cinnabar represented by the Four Symbols (Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise) begins its transformation, with five-colored auroras rising from the cauldron. At this stage, the Six Spirits (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, mind) harmonize comfortably, the Seven Stars (Big Dipper) perform their respective functions, ultimately forging the Eightfold Perfect Yang body.

The two "Shortened Magnolia" poems describe post-enlightenment states. The first observes worldly conflicts as laughable as ants fighting on a snail's horn, discarding attachments like worn-out shoes. Companionship with gibbons and cranes amidst cloud-wrapped mountains brings all-day leisure. A pot of clear tea, a bright moon—the mind's purity illuminates both inner and outer realms, attaining unattached emptiness.

The second poem further describes: forgetting cunning intentions, realizing profound mystery—all phenomena are empty. Not a speck of dust stains the heart, only boundless clear light. This luminous original nature remains untainted by stellar dust or fly specks. Inner and outer merge seamlessly, abiding peacefully in the Dharmadhatu of emptiness.

"Longing for Immortals" explains elixir refinement essentials: using Heaven and Earth as the cauldron, harmonizing Yin-Yang. Through cultivation, yin substances transform into pure yang, ultimately merging with the Dharmakaya of emptiness. Then one rides the wind, becoming one with it, roaming freely through Dharmadhatu—formless yet omnipresent.

"Dreamlike Song" concludes: All dharmas reside in the heart, to be employed at will. Like the waxing moon gradually rounding, regulate water and fire (spirit and Qi), refining golden essence (Golden Elixir). Finally bursts forth the round-bright jewel-like elixir, realizing the Dao-fruit. Then one understands: the entire void is myself, I am the entire void.

The Enlightenment Anthology, Scroll 2, Chapter 13

By Liu Zhiyuan, Master Tongxuan of Golden Peak Mountain

Chapter One: The Heart of Simplicity

The "true heart" spoken of by Master Ziyang (patriarch of Daoist internal alchemy) has its left aspect as the origin of one's innate nature (性), resembling the solar soul (魂), and its right aspect as the foundation of life (命), akin to the lunar essence (魄). At its center resides the Valley Spirit (谷神, the primordial Shen), the sovereign ruler of the entire body. This is truly the pivotal point for refining the Golden Elixir (金丹) and the root of entering the Dao.

Master Chunyang (Lü Dongbin) referred to this true heart as the "turtle drinking from the sea"—the essential foundation all cultivators must rely upon. To abandon this and seek the Golden Elixir through external practices (外丹) is like trying to cook without a pot; no matter how much effort is expended, results will remain elusive. This true heart is neither the illusory reflections of the six dusts (六尘: form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and thought) nor the physical, fleshly heart. Though formless, it responds swiftly—the very convergence of Shen (神) and Qi (炁).

To recognize this true heart is to "illuminate the mind and perceive one's nature." As Master Ziyang said, "The arrogant heart will surely fail; the humble heart will surely succeed." Once this principle is understood, if one can gather body and mind, maintain right mindfulness, and guard the spirit unwaveringly, cultivation will reveal the innate nature's luminous clarity. When this spiritual clarity crystallizes, the body grows robust—mirroring all things like polished glass, moving and resting with ease, unhindered by external phenomena.

Whether walking, standing, sitting, reclining, speaking, or in silence, one remains as steady as a mountain, as pure as empty space, perfectly unobstructed and penetrating even the subtlest mysteries. This is the true mastery of the heart's wondrous function. Those who fail to recognize this true heart and nature are merely "blind cultivators," sitting in vain until old age with nothing to show. How much more futile are those who study without encountering true methods, encounter methods without diligent practice, or practice without wholehearted devotion? As for those who claim enlightenment without leaving their doors—this is sheer absurdity.

Chapter Two: The Heaven Within Heaven

Master Heshang Gong (the recluse of the river) spoke of the "mystery within mystery," referring to heavens beyond heavens. This is not the illusory realm of sun, moon, stars, wind, and thunder seen when Shen and Qi are turbid and chaotic—such visions are merely dualistic fantasies arising from uncontrolled Shen-Qi and deluded thoughts.

The true "Heaven within Heaven" has the Gate of Life above and the Door of Death below. It is the body's innermost Mysterious Feminine (玄牝, the primordial cavity), neither heart nor kidneys, neither the digestive tract nor the bladder or Dantian (丹田). It is the palace where Yin and Yang unite, the meeting place of sun and moon. Encompassing emptiness, rooted in Shen and Qi, it leaves no trace to be found.

(Note: The "Mysterious Feminine" refers to the key cavity where the primordial Qi resides, a vital site in Neidan practice. The "Valley Spirit" denotes the primordial Shen, contrasted with the acquired cognitive mind.)

This scripture primarily elucidates that the key to cultivating Neidan (internal alchemy) lies in mastering the "True Earth" (referring to the spleen-earth Qi at the body's center, which harmonizes the Five Phases and consolidates energy). As Master Pingshu's poetic verse states, when the Dragon and Tiger (symbolizing the heart's Shen [spirit] and the kidneys' Jing [essence]) stir within the body, the Mysterious Pearl (the nascent form of the internal elixir) emerges in the central spleen-earth region. Without the mediating influence of the Wu-Ji earth (spleen Qi) between Li (heart fire) and Kan (kidney water), even if the Four Symbols (the energies of Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise) are gathered, the elixir cannot be forged.

The True Earth serves as the foundation for governing the Five Phases and harmonizing Yin-Yang, much like fertile soil is essential for crops: if planted too shallow, the elixir cannot take root; if buried too deep, it rots. Just as plants thrive in soil but wither without it, practitioners must master this method of "stealing the primordial Qi of heaven and earth." Only in the purified space where the "formless light" and the "liquid of the eight waters" converge—through the refinement of lead (kidney Jing) and mercury (heart Shen)—can the Golden Elixir be perfected.

The text recounts how Master Danyang (Ma Yu), during his cultivation, found his mind clouded by distractions until Master Chongyang (Wang Chongyang) provided guidance, illuminating his path. This illustrates that Neidan practice requires genuine oral transmission—it cannot be achieved through mere intellectual speculation or rote scripture study. Without authentic instruction, even if one forcibly forms an elixir, it will never attain the realm of immortality and supernatural powers.

Finally, it emphasizes that this "central field" functions like an alchemical cauldron, receiving the essence of the sun and moon above and drawing in the Qi of the Dragon and Tiger below, transforming cosmic energies into the Golden Elixir. Yet one must find the precise "earth-nature"—the balanced state of fire regulation and mental harmony—for the golden grains (elixir) to circulate unceasingly, ultimately realizing the Great Dao.

This passage from the Qizhen Jing (Scripture of Awakening Truth) elucidates two core principles of cultivation: the application of "True Earth" (referring to primordial Qi) and the method of "mutual dependence between mind and breath."

Regarding True Earth, the scripture compares the cultivation of the Golden Elixir (Jindan) path to nurturing a precious jade blossom—it can only flourish when rooted in True Earth (primordial Qi). Here, True Earth symbolizes the authentic spirit and intention (Zhen Shen Zhen Yi), which form the foundation of practice. When refining the three primordial energies of Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) through the alchemical process of "seven returns and nine revolutions," failure to grasp the pivotal mechanism of the Yang Spirit (Yuanshen) will prevent the achievement of transformative work. Only when spirit and Qi resonate mutually, with form and spirit manifesting together, can one attain the state of boundless transformation. Master Changchun (Qiu Chuji) taught: "If one can directly recognize the true intention within an inch of the heart, they may ascend immediately to the Great Luo Heaven." Abandoning this fundamental principle for cultivation is as absurd as a lost traveler trying to find their way home while heading in the wrong direction, or attempting to grow crops on barren stone.

The method of "mutual dependence between mind and breath" emphasizes first establishing unwavering dedication to the Dao, relinquishing attachments, and restraining desires. The crucial point lies in harmonizing intention with breath—breath being the essential technique for nurturing life. One must continuously cultivate Qi without allowing it to be dissipated by emotional fluctuations. Through gently nurturing the Dantian (the palace of origin), Qi gradually coalesces into the elixir. When the mind is tranquil, breath naturally becomes steady; when breath is regulated, the spirit finds stability. With a purified mind, one safeguards the wondrous awareness of the spiritual source (Ling Yuan Miao Jue), preventing it from being disturbed by deluded thoughts. Only by integrating both mind techniques and breath methods can cultivation be perfected.

The scripture cautions against two common deviations in practice: focusing solely on realizing true nature while neglecting life cultivation (Xingming Shuangxiu) is a grave error, while cultivating vitality without illuminating the mind is like a mirror without its reflective surface. True practice requires purity of both body and mind, yet one must also avoid extremes—excessive attachment to breath regulation leads to contrived methods, while complete abandonment of all techniques falls into inert emptiness. The key lies in maintaining the Middle Way between application and non-application, abiding in wakeful awareness without fixation, and remaining undisturbed by wandering thoughts whether moving or still. At this stage, the mind becomes as free as wind in open sky—utterly clear and untainted.

The Qizhen Ji scripture primarily elucidates key principles and common pitfalls in cultivation practice.

Regarding the essential teaching of "dying to yin and giving birth to yang": The text reveals that most people fail to comprehend the principle of "dying to yin." Yang Qi constitutes the foundation of life, while the growth of yin energy actually becomes the root cause of yang's dissipation. In cultivation, one should emulate the spiritual turtle's method of gathering yin energy (referring to restraining desires), allowing the original spirit (Shen) to arise naturally. Many practitioners only understand abstinence but fail to realize that even a single thought can scatter their vital essence (Jing). Master Changchun (Qiu Chuji, patriarch of the Quanzhen school) taught: "The emergence of a single lustful thought damages the harmonious Qi throughout one's entire body." When a true adept extinguishes yin energy, the six desires and seven emotions naturally vanish, while the Three Corpses (three malevolent spirits believed to reside in the body) and Nine Worms (symbolizing various desires) completely disappear. At this stage, practitioners maintain correct mindfulness, remaining unmoved by external circumstances—like white jade immersed in mud yet remaining unstained, steady as Mount Tai. Upon reaching this level of attainment, the Three Passes (key areas in cultivation) close while the Life Gate (vital acupuncture point) opens wide, manifesting visions of nine-colored light and five metallic radiances. The genuine Qi circulates spontaneously, ultimately achieving a body of pure yang where form and spirit attain wondrous unity, transcending the constraints of heaven and earth.

Concerning the pitfall of "erroneous Qi and Shen": When practitioners enter the initial state of primordial chaos, if their genuine Qi lacks proper guidance, it may scatter wildly, manifesting as uncontrollable physical agitation. This phenomenon isn't "soul displacement" (possession by external spirits) but rather indicates unresolved pathogenic Qi. Mistaking illusions for spiritual powers—such as seeing ghosts and deities or predicting fortunes—actually stems from deceptive spirits (Shen xie). When internal and external pathogenic energies resonate, they induce various bizarre phenomena that ultimately lead to deviation. This resembles a sheep wearing tiger's skin or mistaking thatch for fragrant herbs—both being forms of self-deception. Daoist cultivators must discern these deviations early and seize the proper timing to return their spirit and Qi to the correct path.

Through disciplined cultivation methods, one's hun and po (the spiritual consciousness in Daoist terms) can coalesce in harmony. By precise regulation and refinement, the Shen (spirit) and Jing (essence) become inseparably united. Gradually, through this coalescence and transformation, a luminous spiritual form emerges, ultimately crystallizing into the sacred embryo (the advanced state of cultivation). At this stage, golden light fills the chamber, enveloping the true form as it transforms into a body of pure Yang. The primordial spirit ascends from the crown of the head (the "Kun summit"), radiating brilliant luminosity—transparent within and without—merging wholly with the cosmos. This is the genuine state of cultivation.

Here, one's Xing and Ming (nature and life) are fully integrated, embracing all things without confusion. Only upon reaching this realm can one truly comprehend the profound words of the Dao and perceive the essence of existence. This is the foundational principle of the path of cultivation, unchanging through the ages.

A question arises: It is said that cultivation in youth, when the foundation is strong, yields better results, while in old age, with diminished Jing and Qi, success becomes difficult. Yet before our parents conceived us, there was neither Jing nor blood; after death, the body returns to earth, water, fire, and wind (the four elements in Buddhism). In these two states, nothing seems to exist—so what is the true subject of cultivation? Why distinguish between forms of "you" and "me"? Such doubts make discernment challenging.

An excellent response! Long ago, Chen Niwan (a Song Dynasty master) answered Bai Yuchan (the renowned Southern Song Daoist) thus: The Dao inherently has no form—dragons and tigers are but metaphors; the Dao has no name—lead and mercury (alchemical terms) are mere substitutes. We borrow Qian and Kun (heaven and earth) as the furnace and cauldron for alchemy, take Kan and Li (water and fire) as the medicinal ingredients, and through the work of the "seven returns and nine restorations" (a Neidan method), refine the body into pure Yang and eternal life. This is not attained through attachment to form and appearance but manifests naturally in the deep stillness of "vague and indistinct" absorption. The true body of the Dao is like sunlight casting no shadow—divinely spontaneous, inherently complete, transcending all duality.

The fundamental true nature neither clings nor detaches. In movement, it gathers clarity and enters the mysterious; in stillness, the spirit dissolves into formless transcendence. Between movement and stillness, inner and outer radiance reflect one another—the body like a crystal pagoda illuminating heaven and earth, the nature like a luminous pearl resting in a bowl, perfectly round and bright. Only then does the original wondrous body reveal itself, transforming without obstruction, surpassing names and forms, uniting with the Dao. Coming, it is without substance; departing, it leaves no trace. This is the root cause of attaining immortality and realizing the Dao.

The questioner, convinced, withdrew in reverence.

The Great Dao has no fixed form or substance; it is profoundly empty and quiescent, inaudible to the ear, invisible to the eye, and ungraspable by hand. Though formless, cultivation follows definite stages: first awakening from ignorance to begin practice; having begun, one reaches completion; reaching completion, one returns to the origin. Ultimate awakening leads to perfect fulfillment. Thus we understand the cultivation process: initially, manifestations emerge from the fundamental substance, transitioning from emptiness to form; then manifestations withdraw back to the fundamental, returning from form to emptiness; finally transcending both substance and manifestation, surpassing all dualities of being and non-being. Only by seeing through all phenomena as illusory can one unite with the Dao, attaining the state of Wuwei (non-action).

The true Dao permeates all things, manifesting in every phenomenon, filling the entire universe. This cannot be attained by clinging to forms or intellectual explanations. Such awakening comes from inner clarity - luminous serenity without attachment, achieved through complete cultivation. Without following the stages, merely seeking sudden enlightenment while mouthing phrases like "originally there is nothing" or "pure as empty space" while remaining inwardly unawakened, one could sit rigidly for a lifetime without achievement. Understand that even momentary awakening requires prolonged cultivation for stabilization. Cultivators, how can you not ponder these words deeply? If heard indistinctly or understood superficially, the essence cannot be grasped; without grasping the essence, practice cannot succeed - this is no idle talk.

Chapter Nine discusses forgetting form to nurture Qi (vital energy): Humans are the concentrated essence of Heaven, Earth and Humanity, with forms composed of the four elements (earth, water, fire, wind). Clinging to this "self" brings sensations of pain and pleasure, desires for wealth and comfort - excessive concern for bodily preservation obstructs cultivation. To nurture primordial Qi, one must forget physical form. Master Changchun (Qiu Chuji) said: "Ultimately we must relinquish this body - how long will you cherish face and head?" This is the essence of forgetting form. He also taught: "The heart should be immovable as a mountain, while Qi circulates ceaselessly like ocean tides" - this is the key to nurturing Qi. Master Danyang (Ma Yu) similarly taught: "When the body is empty and still, Qi naturally flows" - these words are true. The secret method of the Yin Fu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) states: "Cultivators must let deluded thoughts die, maintaining unified stillness to concentrate Jing (essence) and Qi." Know that internal Qi must not dissipate - practitioners should close the sensory gates, let the body become like withered wood, open the Heavenly Gate (Baihui point at the crown), firmly close the Earthly Door (Huiyin point at the perineum), maintain right mindfulness, and eliminate all distracting thoughts.

Breathe with subtle continuity, as if present yet absent, gathering and condensing the primordial Qi (the harmonizing energy) within, while opening the acupoints where the Dragon and Tiger (representing Yin and Yang energies) converge. Allow the Supreme Unity (the highest primordial energy) to intermingle with the true Qi in the Dantian (energy center), ensuring the ceaseless cyclical ascent and descent of Yin and Yang energies day and night.

Regulate the waxing and waning of Water and Fire (referring to kidney-water and heart-fire) appropriately, maintaining a constant temperature in the alchemical furnace. When cultivating the true fire (primordial Qi), the key lies in unblocking the Three Passes (the crucial points at the coccyx, spine, and jade pillow) to sustain gentle warmth throughout the body. Those who attain this state will not fall even from great heights—this is no empty claim. When the Qi Sea (lower Dantian) remains pure and untainted, no pathogenic energy can intrude. Guard this primordial Qi like a hen brooding over eggs or a deer nurturing its antlers, returning it to its source to realize the path of longevity. Did not the ancient sages, who could ride carps into and out of water, attain such abilities precisely by forgetting their physical forms?

Chapter Ten discusses forgetting Qi to nurture Shen (spirit). Practitioners must hold to the Middle Way, ensuring heart-fire does not blaze excessively and kidney-water does not overflow, balancing both to stabilize primordial Qi within the furnace of the Dantian, refining it into the Golden Elixir (Neidan) that crystallizes into the true elixir. Clinging to attachments is like carrying a boat after crossing the river—it hinders reaching the shore—or like continuing medicine after recovery, which harms vital energy. Master Pingshu said: "Use lead (true Yang), but not ordinary lead; once true lead is employed, let it go—this is the subtle art of using lead. To use without using is the true principle." Thus, to truly nurture Shen, the mind must be clear and free from preoccupation with breath regulation. When thoughts cease to arise, truth remains unobscured. The undying Shen spoken of here is not the ordinary thinking consciousness but the original spirit, one in origin with heaven and earth and all things. Nourish it with profound mystery, yet as if it were absent, allowing the inner sun and moon to shine, illuminating the five viscera and six bowels day and night like radiant pearls, ultimately transforming into a treasury of spiritual powers. When spirit and awareness resonate, one becomes as free as a crane riding the wind. Yet do not cling to such marvels; instead, continue nurturing within emptiness, steadfast as a mountain. Suddenly, one day, the ability to manifest multiple forms will arise, freely appearing and withdrawing—this is the complete path of nurturing Shen. As Zhang Zhenren’s "Song of Untying the Pendant" states: "When the Yang spirit leaves the body in a trance, it roams the Three Isles (Penglai, Fangzhang, and Yingzhou) in an instant. Once adept at exiting and entering, withdraw it to contemplate deeper mysteries, uniting with the Great Void." These words are profoundly true!

Chapter Eleven discusses forgetting Shen to nurture emptiness.

The adept who cultivates properly may have their Shen (spirit, inner consciousness) abiding in the Mysterious Palace (upper Dantian), yet it remains insufficiently pure and ethereal. At this stage, one must relinquish attachments and enter a state of empty stillness. Neither forcibly pursuing Wuwei (non-action) nor completely abandoning intentional action is advisable. In the liminal space between thoughts—where they neither fully vanish nor fully arise—maintain a tranquil state free from deliberation. When the mind truly settles, one perceives all worldly phenomena as empty and illusory; delusive thoughts naturally dissolve, and afflictions cease of their own accord.

This state is neither a deliberately maintained "abiding" nor a consciously sought "thought," but rather a spontaneous state of undifferentiated wholeness. The intrinsic emptiness becomes unobstructedly clear without impediment. Those who misunderstand cultivation essentials may deviate in practice: some concentrate intention excessively upward, causing reddened eyes and facial congestion; others focus rigidly on the lower Dantian (abdomen), remaining stuck in coarse sensations near the perineum; some chase external phenomena like mistaking shadows for their true head (essential nature); while others over-refine internal perceptions, trapping their Shen in constrained artificiality. These are all partial attachments leading to delusive discriminations.

The supreme cultivation method lies in harmonizing Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen through inner vision (contemplative observation) and inner awareness, realizing the emptiness of both body-mind and external phenomena. By not clinging to any sensory perceptions, one enters a state of utmost purity and luminosity. Persisting in this practice gradually unites one with the Great Void (cosmic origin)—internally containing the radiance of sun and moon, while externally merging with the realm of emptiness. Without forced visualization, spontaneous unity with the Void occurs—utterly unobstructed and untainted. Inner and outer, above and below become seamless; simply maintain concentrated stillness until, with mature practice, the boundaries between heaven and earth dissolve, and even self-awareness vanishes. Gather, and form manifests; disperse, and it returns to formless Qi—awake yet transcendent, standing alone beyond duality. This is the supreme state of "shattering emptiness."

Such realization transcends verbal expression, representing ultimate truth beyond doctrinal formulations. The key lies in actual realization through practice, not theoretical debate. (This chapter elucidates how to achieve the state of empty fusion in cultivation, avoid deviations, and ultimately unite with the Dao.)

The eye cannot see itself yet perceives external objects; the mirror cannot reflect itself yet mirrors other things. If one becomes attached to self-observation or self-display, one loses the capacity to illuminate all phenomena. True illuminating wisdom requires transcending the self, like a bright mirror hanging high—neither clinging to the mirror's surface nor to the reflections it holds.

When the mind is no longer disturbed by external circumstances, one realizes that all appearances are essentially empty. By following conditions without discrimination, one becomes like refined gold that naturally shines after impurities are removed. Through diligent cultivation of the Dao, when mental distractions are cleansed, external attachments instantly dissolve, revealing the emptiness of all phenomena. At this stage, delusional thoughts cease, and one's true nature manifests perfectly—clear and unobstructed like empty space.

This state is subtle and beyond words: it can contain dust motes without feeling small, encompass the vast void without feeling large. Mind and phenomena merge seamlessly, transcending all dualities. Those who merely discuss "embracing all things without mental obstruction" without genuine realization are deceiving themselves.

As for practitioners of lesser vehicles who cling to "annihilating emptiness," they fear material obstructions and deliberately eradicate forms, believing all phenomena to be illusory. They fail to understand that within true emptiness lies wondrous existence—just as clouds and rain arise from empty space, this emptiness is not lifeless stagnation. The cultivation of non-cultivation means neither forced pursuit nor indulgent sinking. Those who live like ignorant livestock yet claim to "abide without thought" have merely fallen into inert emptiness. It is like those who have never tasted seawater—they can never know its true flavor.

This passage from the Qizhen Ji (Collection of Revealing Truth) discusses the essence of cultivation and the life story of Master Tongxuanzi Liu Zhiyuan.

Regarding the essence of cultivation, the scripture states: Without cultivating wisdom and skillful means (expedient methods for liberating beings), one cannot attain the adorned Dharma-body (the purified form achieved through cultivation). Without seeking the fundamentally clear original nature, one cannot perfect the realization of Dharmata (the true nature of phenomena). Upon sudden enlightenment, deluded thoughts immediately cease, revealing the original true nature. At this point, one realizes there is no other truth to seek—this is called "seeking without seeking." When the Dharma-body is fully manifested, one can respond appropriately to all circumstances—here there is no other true nature to cultivate, called "cultivating without cultivation." At this ultimate stage, neither falsehood nor truth exists—what need is there for cultivation or verification? The spiritual awareness is originally pure and empty—why cling to anything? Maintain physical stability like Mount Tai, unmoving, and mental clarity like an empty house, unobstructed. The manifested wondrous nature is perfectly bright, transcending all names and forms, illuminating the emptiness of all phenomena—where then lies the need for cultivation?

The text then records the life of Master Tongxuanzi Liu Zhiyuan: A native of Xici Gaolouli, he became the direct disciple of Master Chaoranzi. For twenty years under his teacher, he never displayed emotions of joy or anger. Later, his virtuous influence transformed the local populace, and countless sought to become his disciples. In daily life, he slept without dreaming, walked without watching his steps, sat in stillness like withered wood, and stood immobile like unhewn stone—often silent, his mind undisturbed by external things. When visitors came, he would appear drowsy before they finished speaking, neither responding nor making eye contact, as if comprehending something beyond. Without enduring Dao-power residing in his heart, how could he reach such a state? His casual utterances were precious as pearls and jade; when writing, divine inspiration flowed effortlessly, compiling the Qizhen Ji without forced composition. At fifty-nine, he departed peacefully on the nineteenth day of the seventh month, achieving liberation from the corpse (a Daoist method of transcendence). His final verse declared: "This shell was but an earthbound corpse—now original truth is realized; embracing heaven-earth without form or appearance, the ten directions and three realms manifest my whole being." During his funeral procession spanning thirty li, wind and rain accompanied yet never touched the banners or dampened garments near his coffin—auspicious qi formed rainbows while extraordinary fragrances filled the air. All witnesses marveled, proclaiming unanimously: "This is the miraculous response of genuine Dao cultivation!"

Finally, Dong Yongchong praised in ancient verse: "The dragon returns to the ocean, the phoenix sings in the heavens—revered Master Tongxuan, the Perfected!"

This passage exemplifies the Daoist cultivation journey from active practice to effortless attainment, showcasing the transcendent demeanor of an accomplished master. It particularly emphasizes the supreme states of "seeking without seeking" and "cultivating without cultivation," along with the miraculous manifestations of spiritual realization.

These passages from the Qizhen Ji describe the realm and process of Daoist cultivation leading to immortality.

The first passage states that genuine cultivators may appear as ordinary people outwardly (the phrase "a gentleman with a full belly" suggests an unremarkable physique), yet through dedicated practice they can comprehend the true essence of the Dao (the Way). Zhang Guoqing (also known as Zhang Guobao) uses six-character verse to depict the achieved state of cultivation: developing raven-black immortal hair and luminous skin, shedding the mortal body to attain an ethereal grace ("elegantly slender" describes the refined posture), maintaining solemn purity in all circumstances, and ultimately reaching the mysterious realm beyond birth and death.

The second passage, titled "The Bent Bow's Use," employs metaphors to illustrate cultivation: like a cicada molting its earthly shell, only when wisdom merges with the Dao can one perceive truth. The true self cannot be found in the material world, but only manifests in the formless realm.

The verses by Shi Zhiwang of Western Mountain record the deeds of an immortal master: shedding his mortal form like a cicada's husk, he was revered by all (the gesture of "hand to forehead" showing respect). His ascension shook heaven and earth with thunderous resonance, leaving eternal traces of immortality as he roamed freely riding moonbeams. While mortals recorded his illustrious name, he had already taken residence beyond the heavens as a true immortal.

Two subsequent heptasyllabic quatrains continue describing the master's ascension: at sixty years of age (the "age of obedient ears" refers to sixty), he suddenly abandoned his earthly shell, rising into the formless realm never to return. This ascension should rank him among the highest celestial positions ("upper first-class" denotes superior immortal rank), causing even the Penglai immortal mountains to tremble. The final verses describe the master's perfected virtue freeing him from worldly shackles, riding the clear wind into boundless disappearance. Only the壶山 landscape remains unchanged, its emerald waves still reflecting the mountain peaks.

Through vivid imagery, these poems present the Daoist ideal of physical transcendence and celestial ascension, using the cicada's molting as metaphor for liberation from worldly dust, and thunder as symbol of heaven-earth resonance during divine flight.