《茅山誌》Vol. 32

This passage primarily records several Yuan dynasty poems and Daoist cultivation accounts related to Mount Mao (a famous Daoist mountain).

The poem about the "Fire-Cleansing Altar" mentions: The true Dao fire (the pure Yang fire used in Neidan/internal alchemy practice) has no fixed form, yet it naturally manifests in realized adepts. The poem uses the transformation of red lotuses as a metaphor for the sublimation of spiritual attainment, pointing out that through refining with genuine Yang Qi (vital energy), one can transcend physical constraints—just as fire passes from one kindling to another, endlessly enduring.

Two poems describing a secluded pine tree say: By the open-air altar, the pine casts a numinous shade, as if celestial music could be heard. The verses mention that the pine was planted by a realized adept who once dwelled in the mountains, and even after centuries, it still offers cool respite to later generations.

Two poems on the "Jade Shrine" depict enshrined divine statues: Majestic jade-carved deities don radiant ritual robes, while the poet pays respects to the Great Director of Fate (an important Daoist deity), praying for divine presence to descend upon the Huayang Grotto-Heaven (a renowned sacred cave on Mount Mao).

Zhou Chi’s two poems, "Plowing Clouds, Hoeing the Moon," romanticize the life of a Daoist: Tilling stony fields at the foot of the numinous mountain, treating the drifting clouds as crops to cultivate. At night, cloaked in mist, he hoes the moonlight, likening its glow to frost covering the ground—expressing the transcendent purity of ascetic cultivation, free from material desires.

Two "Dream Journey to Juqu" poems recount dream visions: Dreaming of the Purple Clarity Palace (a Daoist celestial realm) veiled in mist and haze, unreachable for three hundred years. Another dream features an encounter with the immortal youth Qingtong beneath the Three Blossoms Tree, discussing the ninefold refinement of the Golden Elixir, with mentions of the transcendent figures Wangzi Qiao and Guo Sichao (both legendary Daoist immortals).

Finally, Sun Lüdao’s four response poems describe: The primordial Shen (spirit) soaring to pay homage to the Celestial Emperor, then visiting the Three Origin Lords (the Great Officials of Heaven, Earth, and Water) in the Purple Tenuity Enclosure (celestial realm), receiving secret teachings from the "Emperor One" (the supreme Daoist deity). The verses emphasize that cultivation must return to silent authenticity, grasping the root of primordial Qi.

The Records of Maoshan contains poetic works by several Daoist literati, primarily depicting the ascetic life and celestial realms on Mount Mao (a renowned Daoist mountain).

The first section discusses essential cultivation methods: worldly disturbances are as ephemeral as mayflies, and death as commonplace as discarding worn garments. Only through cultivating the "Nine Lights" (a Daoist term referring to nine types of radiance) can one command the immortal chariot. The primordial sacred essence becomes obscured by desires, remaining elusive through the ages, yet the pure radiance permeates the cosmos, ever present before us. When the six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) merge into oneness, the Great Demon arrives to test the cultivator.

The second part presents Huang Shiweng's poem to a recluse in the mountains: in late spring, pine blossoms scatter while cuckoos call, as the hermit sits serenely through the lingering spring day. Mountain springs resonate like ancient Shao music, sunlight pristine as in primordial times. Between bamboo baskets and staves, they converse of mist and clouds, inscribing azure paper with cinnabar texts (Daoist talismans and registers). Though he should thank old friends from Qiantang, his resolve is firm to dwell deep within white clouds, never to return.

The third section features Yuan Jue and Lu Guimeng's Hymns to the True Ones, portraying celestial activities on Maoshan: each year on the second day of the twelfth month, Great Maojun (one of Mount Mao's three principal deities) returns from Mount Tiantai to Maoshan, then departs again on the eighteenth day of the third month. The verses depict welcoming scenes with imagery like "emerald banners fluttering" and "jade terrace stars," while farewells are described through "soaring dragon steeds" and "imperial scions singing." Finally, mountain elders offer farewell with chilled spring wine as the immortals ascend amidst moonlit clouds.

The concluding note "Dedicated to the Hermit of Huayang Grotto" (one of Daoism's Thirty-Six Grotto Heavens) reveals these poems were composed for recluses cultivating in Maoshan's Huayang Cave, embodying Daoist literati's yearning for hermitic life and pursuit of celestial realms.

The first poem depicts a hermit's cultivation scene: at dawn, sitting in meditation facing the rising sun, cheeks slightly flushed from the circulation of Qi and blood during practice. Pushing open the wooden gate to enter the alchemy chamber veiled in fragrant mist, where stone steps are covered with moss and wisteria trellises crisscross. Fragrant herbs grow in shallow waters, while the air seems filled with rainbow-hued clouds like azure mirages. The monkeys and cranes of North Mountain coexist harmoniously as if by prior arrangement, while the distant chimes from South Cliff sound both near and far. The poet yearns even more to retreat deep into secluded valleys, building an altar at night to pay homage to the Three Mao Perfected Lords (founders of the Maoshan tradition).

The second poem recounts a boat journey to visit Tao Hongjing's former abode: rowing alone through waters of white duckweed, seeking Tao Gong's (Tao Hongjing) old dwelling in pursuit of the Dao. The satchel carries precious alchemical formulas and secret manuals, while his authored Daoist texts enjoy widespread reverence. Unaware how lingering clouds have detained the sunset glow, yet knowing frequent deliveries of atractylodes (medicinal herb). On hand-planted pines perch immortal cranes - who can tell which generation of Huayang Grotto-Heaven's inheritors this represents?

The third poem portrays reclusive life in deep mountains: the hermitage sees no human tracks, only elk visiting across snow. Often observing cloud vapors while gathering divine mushrooms - no wonder alchemical light permeates the woods. Lord Mao (Maoshan patriarch) descends astride a white tiger, while mountain spirits and tree dwellers chant with troops of apes. Surely what you miss most now is my image traversing countless peaks on feiqiao (Daoist flying technique).

The fourth poem exchanges verses between monk and Daoist friend: I dwell by East Sea while you reside at Mount Juqu, our paths too distant for correspondence. Immortals naturally possess earth-shrinking arts (Daoist magic), you who transcend worldly dust. Imagining you in caves dining on celestial herbs, long having forgotten the peach harvest season. Who might deliver my message to White Earth Dam? Only that Master Shi who cultivates through feigned madness.

The fifth poem continues the poetic exchange: our hurried parting seems lifetimes past, watching Penglai's fairy realm flicker in and out of view. Often recalling the legend of Lord Ren fishing for giant turtles - whose crane-releasing deeds could match Zhi Daolin's? The Golden Elixir formed surely brings immortality, while completed poems often prompt solitary raptures. Next year when rainbow bridges meet, I'll first dispatch flying chariots to distant peaks.

The sixth poem praises a friend's cultivation: admiring your lofty retreat into Huayang's grotto-heaven, where ancient caves run deep and stone paths lie untrodden. By day, banners solemnly eclipse the sun; by night, jade pendants soar through crisp air. You've mastered the art of dining on mists to ascend perfected, while refining furnace rites to prolong years. Though Tao Hongjing dwelt in seclusion, still he guided rulers with Dao and Virtue.

The seventh poem describes returning to grotto-heavens: coming back to Huayang's ancient cavern realm, transcending worldly attachments. Inscribing crimson-leaf verses on vine-clad cliffs, loosened hair reclining to watch purple mists over cloud-forests. When might the Jade Scripture of the Elder descend? The true formulas of reclusion still transmit. Planning to seek you by Eastern River, together realizing the mystery of joint radiance (Daoist meditative state).

This poetic passage presents several literati's praises for the reclusive life on Mount Mao (a renowned Daoist mountain).

Zhang Zhu depicts the mist-shrouded scenery of Mount Mao's Mystic Isle (a Daoist celestial realm), where dense pine forests thrive. He mentions hermits sealing precious scriptures in golden caskets and jade boxes, while dragon shadows occasionally appear in alchemical ponds, and immortal deer with velvet antlers graze on jade-like herbs. The poet yearns to dwell with these recluses on Mao Peak, even as a mere guardian of their grotto abodes.

Liu Wen commends the mountain-dwelling scholar-immortals (cultivated literati) whose works spread far and wide, comparing these practitioners to the famous Southern Dynasties Daoist Tao Hongjing and the Han Dynasty adept Zhang Liang. He describes the refined lifestyle of clear mountain springs and bright moonlight, where yellow paper is used for calligraphic practice, expressing his desire to ascend to the celestial grotto-heavens.

Zheng Yuanyou recounts hermits dwelling in thatched cottages on the Mystic Isle, grinding ink with mountain springs for their writings. He mentions warming wine with pine knots at dawn and brewing chrysanthemum tea in spring, wistfully noting that given the opportunity, he too would await the feathered chariot of the Queen Mother of the West for celestial journeys.

Ni Ting portrays Daoist priests returning on white cranes, depicting golden and jade towers amid splendid rains and pine-scented winds. He particularly notes the glowing alchemical well at night and moss-covered stone altars, expressing his wish to share the Mystic Isle's wonders with these recluses.

Among Li Mao's two poems, the first describes celestial beings clad in cloud-woven robes, while earthly realms recite new verses inspired by eminent monks' visits. The second observes the Three Mao Peaks (the mountain's main summits) resembling green lotus blossoms when viewed from Jurong City, longing to ride deer into the mountains with friends to listen to pine winds.

Wang Li's dedicatory poem to the Jade Void Patriarch depicts this white-haired yet youthful-faced elder of Mount Juqu (ancient name for Mount Mao), who once rode a dark crane to celestial audiences. Now returning through night storms, purple mushrooms of longevity already grow amid the white stones and emerald moss of his abode.

The Maoshan Daoist recluse dwelled in the remote mountains for thirty years, abstaining from worldly sustenance, sustaining himself solely through breath regulation (fuqi) and spiritual cultivation (yangshen). On this day, he soared toward the imperial palace like a pair of wild ducks, or as a lone crane flying toward the distant horizon in spring. Should he encounter wandering Daoist practitioners, he would surely inquire about the current lineage transmission of the Daoist teachings. Unfurling the precious scriptures (baolu) containing the dragon-shaped sword and jade casket (yuhan), why speak further of earthly immortals? This is Wang Fuyuan's poem on the First Peak.

Five-colored auspicious clouds envelop the golden and jade-adorned celestial palace; among the eighteen winding peaks, this one stands the highest. Amidst the forests and rocks, a chilling wind whispers, and as one cups water from the square pool, the faint silhouette of a divine dragon seems to appear. This is the verse on the Second Peak.

From the summit, the lands of Jiangsu and Zhejiang unfold below, while an ancient incense burner rekindles its partridge-patterned smoke. Pitiable is my mortal form, still gray-haired, journeying a thousand miles to ascend this second sacred mountain.

The poem on the Third Peak recounts: Once receiving an elixir bestowed by the deity Maojun, even now in spring, one may witness the marvel of fiery clouds. Legends say he later ascended to immortality, and on moonlit nights, the cry of cranes can still be heard.

Sadula's verse reads: The chime of jade pendants reaches the mortal realm, as celestial winds stir emerald-hued robes. Liu Lang (Liu Chen, the legendary immortal encounterer) rides a crane to tour the Three Isles, while the Prince plays his sheng amidst five-colored clouds. In the cavern abode, luminous pearls illuminate the jade seal, and in the dark stone altar, homage is paid to Lord Mao (the patriarch of Maoshan Daoism). Should one meet the celestial master Wu Zhenren, they must surely ask about the proper fire-tending in alchemy.

Later, revisiting Maoshan, its countless wonders proved too vast for poetry—not even a ten-thousandth could be captured. Upon returning, I reminisced about the places once visited and composed these verses in reverence for Master Jixu.

Kailie Bashi depicted riding a bamboo sedan up the emerald peak in search of the immortal’s white jade altar. He saw crane-riding immortals in feathered robes visiting for millennia, and phoenixes clad in rainbow mists once perched in the highest heavens. Within the caverns grew spirit mushrooms, and the mountains concealed precious jade. The Daoist temple’s (lingong) well held an elixir, while beneath the pines lay only the hermit’s abandoned dwelling—once the place where Emperor Wu of Liang resolved perplexities.

The scene at Xike Spring: Spring waters, clear and jade-green, fill the pool, bubbles rising like glazed pearls. It is as if the river goddess scattered her jade pendants or the mermaids wept over a jade platter. The earth mother bears all things—why must the river god (Fengyi) display such marvels? Lean on the railing and speak not of joylessness; instead, savor the pure spring to moisten parched verses.

The scenery of Yuanfu Mountain Retreat: Facing a thousand layers of verdant cliffs, myriad trees gather in lush abundance. An ancient sword rests in a stone casket, while the alchemical cauldron refines the Golden Elixir. Mist brushes the mountain window, damp with dew; when the mountain fog disperses, the cold seeps through the trees by the stream. Spring birds understand the traveler’s heart, their songs urging a brief respite.

At the Pavilion of Complete Purity, rugged cliffs embrace the secluded pavilion, while emerald bamboo swaying before its latticed windows creates a melody in the breeze. Filling our cups with fine Huayang Mountain wine, we drink freely by the spring waters, intoxicated by the spring day.

This poem is dedicated to Master Jixu: Following the stream into Huayang Mountain, immortals don robes as colorful as rainbow clouds. Warm alchemical smoke rises from the stone furnace beneath the pine shade, while peach blossoms and jade-green trees deepen the cave's serenity. Alas, I remain shackled by worldly affairs, unable to seek the fairy isles beyond mortal realms. When might I borrow the crane of Lord Mao (founder of Maoshan) to roam again the depths of those three sacred peaks?

Of Maoshan travels: Upon Great Mao Peak lies a divine grotto, its stone path winding through mysteries. Legends speak of an ancient hare transforming to offer a jade seal, and a dormant dragon ascending through Golden Elixir (Jindan). White cranes have departed the ancient pines by Heaven's Altar, while icy streams flow past immortal peaches in the cavern's chill. From where comes that celestial flute-song in the moonlight? The tinkling of jade pendants suggests an immortal preparing to ride phoenixes away.

Another verse for Master Jixu Wang Qian: The Three Mao Peaks stand within reach, their Dragon Pool veiled in mountain mists. The immortal Muzhai has long ridden clouds homeward, leaving only his pure reputation echoing through time.

Returning home after prolonged sojourn in the capital, a light breeze stirs my travel-worn robe. Sitting quietly facing azure mountains, I behold the crimson glow of Daoist energy (Daoqi) encircling emerald peaks through the fir branches.

Though years have passed since leaving Huayang, my dreams still wander its paths. The Huayang grotto surely remains unchanged—even now I seem to catch its soul-refreshing fragrance.

Chu Neng's companion poem: The ancestral master's seal transmits the true Dao (Zhendao); celestial cranes should never linger long in dust. The enlightened court reveals its mirror of impartiality—sacred mountains (Fudi) ultimately return to the virtuous. Auspicious mists bathe the forests like spring rain, while ancient pines stand steadfast at the frost-touched altar. Burning incense in reverence to the mountain's prime minister (Master Jixu), may Huayang's Daoist lineage flourish for five centuries.

Written during the great drought in summer 1339, when the Southern Censor summoned Master Jixu to pray for rain: Heaven and Earth nurture myriad forms, yet early summer leaves vegetation scorched. Cloudless skies prolong the drought, threatening famine around Jinling. The censor's compassion for the people's suffering grew as repeated prayers worsened the calamity. Thus envoys raced to Mao Peak—pure as jade ice-vessels, barefoot and hatless, scaling perilous paths. Their sincere supplications to Lord Mao brought instant response, proving the upright are guarded by divine power.

The Perfected One (a Daoist honorific for accomplished practitioners) Wang Jixu ascended the ritual platform to chant incantations and perform magic. When he cast the spiritual talisman (fulu) into the water, the paper transformed into a galloping steed that flew back to the altar. By the time he reached the mountainside, sweet rain was already following his carriage—this Huayang Grotto-Heaven (a famous sacred cave on Maoshan Mountain) had always been an abode of immortals. If the hidden dragon veins refused to manifest their power, who could possibly command them? Without sincere devotion that resonates with divine forces (xixiang refers to spiritual communion), how could the drumbeat receive instant response?

What began as a gentle drizzle eventually swelled into torrential downpour, requiring no thunderous roars to shake the heavens. The Lan Terrace Archivist (official in charge of documents) rode swiftly to spread the news: this blessing had already reached fertile lands far and wide. The lighting of a single candle and incense burner summoned three celestial cranes in response—why need we pour water by the bucketful like breaching the West River? The stranded minnow (alluding to Zhuangzi's "fish in a rut") would never again become dried fish.

When the celestial ladle (legendary vessel for catching divine water) released but a single drop, dragon whiskers (rain threads) transformed into three-zhang waves across level ground. Such miraculous power—controllable yet unfathomable—finally returned to quiescent stillness, as if nothing had occurred at all.