《文始真經註》Vol. 4

This scripture employs the Five Phases (Wuxing) elements of water and fire as metaphors for human consciousness (shen) and ethereal soul (hun), illustrating their inherently impermanent nature.

The text first uses water to represent jing (essence), the fundamental life energy. Water can separate into countless droplets or merge into a single body, manifesting without reliance on external conditions. This demonstrates water's formless essence. In the human body, water corresponds to the kidneys where jing is stored, showing that jing similarly lacks a fixed, unchanging self.

Next, fire symbolizes shen (spirit/consciousness). Fire requires oil or wood to manifest—without fuel it cannot exist independently. This reveals fire's equally transient nature. Physiologically, fire corresponds to the heart, the seat of shen, proving that consciousness too has no permanent self.

The passage then enumerates six water-related phenomena: the ears' ability to hear sounds from all directions, sublime wisdom, the numeral "one," winter's withering of all things, the immutable quality of blackness, and the northern direction symbolizing longevity. These all demonstrate water's omnipresent characteristics while emphasizing their lack of inherent permanence—all being manifestations of jing's essential nature.

Through these natural analogies, the text elucidates a core Daoist cultivation principle regarding jing (essence), qi (vital energy), and shen (spirit): both fundamental life force and conscious awareness are fluid and ever-changing. The attachment to a fixed notion of "self" is precisely the obstacle practitioners must transcend in their spiritual journey.

The tongue requires the cooperation of teeth to speak, demonstrating that it has no independent function (non-self). The essence of ritual is humility, and ritual belongs to the nature of fire, likewise lacking an independent subject. The number "two" is even, representing the generative number of fire, also embodying the characteristic of non-self. Summer inherits the vitality of spring to nurture all things, yet this seasonal attribute possesses no self-awareness. Red can transform into other colors, showing that this chromatic property has no fixed essence. The south corresponds to fire, but fire's tendency to extinguish symbolizes transience, illustrating that attachment to true fire may lead to premature demise. These six—tongue, ritual, two, summer, red, and south—all belong to fire, and fire among the five spirits (hun, shen, po, jing, and zhi) corresponds to "shen" (spirit), thus they all manifest the characteristics of shen.

Just as polished rice remains after husking, water among the five spirits corresponds to "jing" (essence), this subtle energy likewise free from artificial contrivance. It resembles grain stripped of its outer shell, retaining only its essence, revealing a state of "no-person" in its natural condition.

Similarly, as ghosts must possess a body to display supernatural powers, the "shen" corresponding to fire among the five spirits also lacks a fixed self. This "non-self" characteristic is like a spirit needing attachment to manifest its abilities.

Those who preserve their innate jing and qi (essence and vital energy) transcend distinctions of right and wrong, gain and loss. When one fully maintains the essence of life, standing aloof without being entangled in the laws of all things, they naturally forget relative concepts like good and evil, honor and disgrace. This transcendent state means no longer being bound by external matters.

This commentary on the Wenshi Zhenjing elucidates the core principles of spiritual cultivation. It begins by noting that genuine practitioners transcend dualistic distinctions of right and wrong, gain and loss, focusing entirely on the pure state of inner essence (Jing). Those who preserve their primordial spirit (Shen, the pre-heaven consciousness) can adapt to changing circumstances—withdrawing to cultivate themselves when appropriate, emerging to benefit society when needed, demonstrating strength when required, and maintaining humility when yielding. These external manifestations arise as natural responses to circumstances rather than deliberate actions, for the true primordial spirit exists beyond ego-attachment.

The text employs the mutual generation and restraint of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) as metaphors for spiritual qualities: essence (Jing) corresponds to Water, while spirit (Shen) corresponds to Fire. The cyclical interplay of the Five Phases mirrors the seasonal transitions—Wood Qi dominates in the first and second lunar months, Fire Qi in the fourth and fifth, with Earth Qi mediating between transitions in an endless cycle without beginning or end. Yet the practitioner's true essence (pre-heaven primordial Qi) transcends concepts of existence and extinction, remaining as indestructible as a drop of pure water; the primordial spirit (pre-heaven consciousness) flashes like a spark of flame, untouched by birth or death. This passage emphasizes a cultivation state beyond dualistic opposition—where authentic spiritual practice achieves egolessness and non-attachment.

This passage discusses the relationship between the human body's Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), Shen (spirit) and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), as well as how to achieve unity with heaven and earth through cultivation.

The concept of "no self, no others, no beginning, no end" is first explained: when practitioners reach a state of self-forgetfulness where distinctions disappear and boundaries dissolve, they merge completely with natural forces. This state originates from the "profound and mysterious Dao," indicating that human spiritual essence shares the same origin as heaven and earth.

The text then analyzes four key components of human constitution:

• Jing (essence) corresponds to Water among the Five Phases
• Po (corporeal soul) corresponds to Metal
• Shen (spirit-consciousness) corresponds to Fire
• Hun (ethereal soul) corresponds to Wood

It reveals their generative and containing relationships:

Metal generates Water, thus Po contains Jing; Wood generates Fire, thus Hun contains Shen. Just as in nature metal submerged in water becomes concealed, or trees flourish with water nourishment, the body's Jing (Water) can harmonize the Hun and Po.

Conversely, Fire can melt metal and consume wood, mirroring how Shen (Fire) in the body tempers the metallic Po and purifies the wooden Hun. This restraining relationship ultimately returns both souls to "ming" - a state of serene emptiness.

Through the principles of mutual generation and restraint among the Five Phases, the scripture illustrates how cultivation brings Jing, Qi and Shen into natural equilibrium, ultimately returning to the primordial source of the Dao.

This passage elucidates the correspondence between Jing (essence), Shen (spirit), Hun (ethereal soul), Po (corporeal soul) and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) within Daoist cultivation. The text reveals: Po corresponds to Metal, Hun corresponds to Wood, while Fire can melt Metal and consume Wood - thus Shen (associated with Fire) serves as the unifying force between Hun and Po. Just as fire melts metal and burns wood, Shen harmonizes the ethereal and corporeal souls.

Jing corresponds to the Water phase, manifesting in nature as: cold qi in the heavens, water upon the earth, and vital essence within the human body. Shen aligns with the Fire phase, appearing as celestial heat, terrestrial flames, and the human Yuan Shen (primordial spirit). Po relates to the Metal phase, expressing as atmospheric dryness, earthly metals, and bodily vigor. Hun connects to the Wood phase, manifesting as celestial winds, earthly trees, and the human ethereal soul.

The crux of cultivation lies in merging one's personal Jing with the vital essence of heaven and earth, akin to countless streams converging into an ocean; and uniting one's Shen with the spiritual forces of creation, like myriad flames combining into a sea of fire. This state of cosmic unity between humanity and the Dao represents the ultimate goal of Daoist practice.

This scripture employs the metaphors of metal and wood to illustrate how human hun and po souls can merge with those of all things in heaven and earth. Just as different metals can be smelted into a single piece of gold, or different trees grafted to become one plant, so too can human souls (in Daoist thought, the yin po governs physical form while the yang hun governs spirit) unite with the souls of all creation.

The text posits: If metals can fuse and trees can graft, then naturally human souls can commune and merge with those of all existence. When one attains this state, the Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) of all things interflow with one's own—how could distinctions like life and death remain? For all things originate from the same source, the Dao, which itself transcends life and death.

Chapter Three further explains the generative relationships between the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and the spiritual components: Water-phase Jing generates Wood-phase hun (Water nourishes Wood); Wood-phase hun generates Fire-phase Shen (Wood feeds Fire); Fire-phase Shen generates Earth-phase yi (intention, Fire creates Earth); Earth-phase yi generates Metal-phase po (Earth bears Metal); Metal-phase po in turn generates Water-phase Jing (Metal produces Water). These five elements cycle endlessly in mutual generation.

This theory embodies the Daoist cultivation principle of "cosmic-human unity," viewing the human microcosm and celestial macrocosm as resonating through the Five Phases and soul components. Spiritual practice aims to realize this state of unification with the Dao.

This scripture employs the mutual generation of the Five Phases (Wuxing) and the cyclical phenomena of nature as metaphors for how the human mind's consciousness perpetuates the cycle of birth and death. The core message is this: if one's original mind (true emptiness) does not give rise to deluded thoughts, liberation from rebirth is possible; but once delusions arise, one becomes trapped in an endless cycle of life and death.

The activities of the human spirit (Shen) mirror the mutual generation of the Five Phases: if the heart-mind (fire) does not arise, consciousness (earth) will not arise; if consciousness does not arise, the corporeal soul (Po, metal) will not arise; if the corporeal soul does not arise, essence (Jing, water) will not arise; if essence does not arise, the ethereal soul (Hun, wood) will not arise; and if the ethereal soul does not arise, the heart-mind will not arise again. Once this cycle begins, the five spiritual activities perpetuate endlessly, binding beings to the wheel of rebirth. The so-called "false mind" (deluded thoughts) is precisely this karmic consciousness that fuels rebirth, causing sentient beings to toil ceaselessly, passing in and out of the storehouse of life and death like goods, undergoing countless incarnations.

The scripture illustrates this principle with two vivid analogies: First, it compares rebirth to the cycle of a fruit seed—planted in the earth, it sprouts into a tree, which bears fruit containing new seeds, perpetuating the cycle indefinitely. But if the seed is suspended in midair, never touching the soil (symbolizing a mind that remains pure and untainted), the cycle is broken. Second, it likens rebirth to the reproduction of birds—male and female mate, lay eggs, hatch new birds, and the cycle continues. But if only the female exists without the male (symbolizing a mind free from discriminating thoughts), reproduction ceases.

The scripture concludes by driving home its central teaching: Sentient beings are like those endlessly cycling seeds and birds, drifting through rebirth for countless eons. Only by returning the mind to "true emptiness" (its original state of pristine clarity) can this ceaseless cycle of birth and death be brought to an end.

This scripture primarily discusses the relationship between "mind" and "external phenomena" in spiritual cultivation, as well as the Yin-Yang balance between "hun" (ethereal soul) and "po" (corporeal soul).

First, the nature of mind: The mind is originally empty, and thoughts only arise when disturbed by external phenomena. Like thousands of birds - if females and males don't mate (metaphor for the mind not clinging to external things), no egg will be produced (symbolizing the cessation of samsaric rebirth) no matter how subtle the Yin-Yang interaction. When external phenomena stir mental activity, they instantly transform into self-consciousness. But if undisturbed by external phenomena, the mind returns to its original state of emptiness where even the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) cannot affect this transcendent state beyond life and death.

The text uses the phrase "seeing phenomena means seeing mind; without phenomena, mind doesn't appear" to illustrate: once mental activity arises, one falls into the cycle of the Five Phases; when no thoughts arise, one transcends the constraints of Yin-Yang.

Chapter Four specifically explains "hun" and "po":

In ordinary people, the "po" (Yin aspect representing desires and bad habits) suppresses the "hun" (Yang aspect representing purity and virtuous thoughts). This resembles excessive Metal phase overcoming deficient Wood phase, causing negative tendencies to dominate and leading to postmortem descent into Yin realms.

Sages practice the opposite approach: Through awakening, they make the "hun" (abundant Wood energy) circulate the "po" (deficient Metal energy). When beginning Daoist practice, inner awakening allows the pure Yang energy (hun) to govern the Yin energy (po). Just as growing trees can restrain metal, this achieves the cultivation state of balanced Yin-Yang.

This scripture primarily elucidates the yin-yang attributes and operational principles of the "Hun" (ethereal soul) and "Po" (corporeal soul) within the human body. The Hun belongs to yang and governs daytime activities, while the Po belongs to yin and governs nighttime rest. During the day, the Hun resides in the eyes, enabling vision; at night, the Po hides in the liver (note: the original text suggests this should be the lungs, possibly a transcription error), causing dreams to occur.

The Hun ascends like fire, embodying its yang nature and natural upward movement. When the yang Hun is active, it signifies the flourishing of the Wood phase; when the yin Po is tranquil, it indicates a deficiency in the Metal phase. At night, when the Po withdraws, the Hun also retreats; during the day, when the Hun stirs, the Po follows its lead. The scripture specifically notes that if the Po were said to hide in the liver (the original home of the Hun) at night, it would be illogical—more likely, it resides in the lungs.

The scenes perceived by the eyes during the day are the result of the Hun's discerning function, while the various dreams at night arise from the Po's deluded and inverted fantasies. The phrase "what is seen—the Hun makes no distinctions" means that the Hun itself is free from discriminating thought; it is only through acquired habits (狃习) that humans develop differentiated perceptions of the myriad phenomena of heaven and earth.

The key to cultivation lies in this: externally, one must maintain purity and blameless conduct, performing good deeds widely without clinging to their superficial forms; internally, one must preserve the purity of primordial yang (innate yang qi), without fixating on emptiness or extremes. Upon perfecting this cultivation, one can shed the mortal body and ascend to the realm of pure yang, attaining sagehood.

This scripture primarily explains the characteristics and interrelationship of the hun and po (the two elements governing mental activities in Daoist physiology). During daylight, the hun resides in the eyes, perceiving colors and forms—all these are distinctions made by the hun. Initially, when the hun first dwells in the eyes, it holds no discriminating mind. But when discriminative awareness suddenly arises, it begins distinguishing heaven above from earth below. This discriminating consciousness is like a rhinoceros playing with the moon—the moon's reflection becomes lodged in its horn and cannot be removed. Similarly, the hun's perceptions of heaven, earth, and the myriad things form attachments that become causes for samsaric rebirth, making liberation difficult to attain.

At night, the po hides in the lungs, generating all kinds of dreams. Originally, the po also lacks discriminative thought, but once discriminating awareness emerges, it creates divisions between "others" and "self." This differentiation leads to inverted dreaming, causing one to lose their true nature and cling to illusions.

The text further employs the Five Phases' generative cycle to explain the relationship between shen (spirit), yi (intent), and po: Shen belongs to Fire, yi to Earth, and since Fire generates Earth, shen can produce yi. Yi belongs to Earth while po belongs to Metal, and as Earth generates Metal, yi can produce po. When shen becomes active, it is no longer called shen but yi; when yi becomes active, it is no longer called yi but po. This illustrates their transformational process. Just as Fire generates Earth and Earth generates Metal, shen generates yi and yi generates po—forming a generative chain of mutual production.

(Note: The term "entrenched habits" refers to attachments formed through long-conditioned patterns; "kalpas of dust" denotes the vast cycles of samsaric rebirth; the "Five Phases" represent the fundamental Daoist theory of Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water with their interrelationships.)

The truly awakened sage understands that the concept of "self" has no true existence, just as all phenomena inherently lack independent identity. These distinctions arise solely from the discriminating mind of ordinary perception.

The enlightened sage realizes that in the fundamental emptiness (the noumenal realm beyond phenomena), there was never any "self" to begin with. This state of primordial emptiness represents consciousness before the arising of discursive thought. In this state, one neither clings inwardly to a sense of self nor distinguishes outwardly between objects. Awakening means comprehending that in essential emptiness, there was originally no division between self and other—all such distinctions emerge from the deluded activity of conceptual thinking.

Therefore, when encountering phenomena, sages respond with their original nature rather than through discriminating mind. Original nature is the state prior to the arising of thought—the realm of primordial emptiness. When emptiness engages with phenomena, it remains eternally tranquil. Why speak of using original nature rather than mind? Because original nature is precisely the state of emptiness before thought arises.

Without mind (xin), there can be no intention (yi)—just as without fire there can be no earth (according to Five Phases theory, mind corresponds to fire and intention to earth in the generative cycle). Without intention, there can no po (corporeal soul)—just as without earth there can be metal (intention as earth generates po as metal). If the fundamental mind does not exist, then none of the five—shen (spirit), yi (intention), po (corporeal soul), jing (essence), or hun (ethereal soul)—can manifest (Daoist psychology considers mind the root of these five).

When practitioners can merge their hun (yang soul) with that of all celestial and terrestrial phenomena, they naturally unite their po (yin soul) with all creation as well. This describes the cultivation state of cosmic unity (tianren heyi), continuing the previous discussion of achieving oneness with the universe through spiritual practice.

All things are constituted by the Po (corporeal soul). The wondrous transformations of creation are my Hun (ethereal soul), and all manifested forms of creation are my Po. Thus, nothing can dominate me.

This passage means: my Hun and Po are completely unified with those of heaven, earth, and the myriad things. From this we understand that all the mysteries and manifestations of creation are my soul. What we call "creation" refers to the generation of all things. Since one can roam with the Creator, one can master all things, while nothing can master oneself. As the scripture states: The Great Dao can create all things, yet nothing can create or harm the Dao. This principle is identical.

This chapter illustrates: Once discriminating thoughts arise, the Five Shen (five aspects of spirit) become entangled in delusion. Without such discrimination, the Five Shen return to their source and roam with the Creator.

Master Guan Yin (a Daoist figure) said: When Gui (yin energy) manifests as clouds, it is Hun; when Gui manifests as whiteness, it is Po. Etymologically, the character "Hun" combines the "cloud" radical with "Gui," while "Po" combines the "white" radical with "Gui." Thus we say Gui appearing as clouds is Hun, and Gui appearing as white is Po.

Gui is what humans become after death. If even a trace of yin energy remains unconsumed, one cannot become an immortal; if even a trace of yang energy remains unexhausted, one cannot become Gui. From this we understand that when a person's primordial yang (original yang energy) is completely exhausted, even if not yet dead, they are already as good as dead. Humans are Gui clothed in physical form; Gui are humans stripped of their bodily shells. Due to attachment to delusions and unwholesome habits, after death they sink into the underworld and become Gui.

Clouds represent wind, which corresponds to Wood in the Five Phases; whiteness represents Qi, which corresponds to Metal. Yang energy forms clouds—when clouds rise without encountering yin energy, they transform into wind. Wind belongs to the Xun trigram (one of the Eight Trigrams), which corresponds to Wood. The color white belongs to Metal, as metallic Qi manifests as whiteness. Wind possesses dispersive qualities and is therefore light and clear—what is light and clear ascends to heaven. Metal is hard and therefore heavy and turbid—what is heavy and turbid sinks to earth.

Wind, being yang in nature, disperses all things and is thus light and clear. Since wind is both yang and light, it naturally ascends to heaven. Metal, being yin in nature, is hard, heavy, and turbid—since metallic nature is heavy and turbid, it naturally sinks to earth.

Yin substances are hard, heavy, and turbid by nature, thus they naturally sink beneath the earth. This is why metal, being hard, becomes heavy and turbid—such heavy, turbid things inevitably descend into the earth.

Light and clear things have their Po (yin energy) follow the Hun (yang energy) upward, while heavy and turbid things have their Hun follow the Po downward. If a person cultivates numerous virtuous deeds, they align with yang. After death, the blessings of their good deeds nourish their Qi, making it light and clear by nature, so the Po follows the Hun upward to the yang realm—this is the natural order. Hence, it is said that in light and clear things, the Po ascends with the Hun.

Conversely, if a person commits many evil deeds, they align with yin. After death, their negative karma pulls their Qi, making it heavy and turbid by nature, so the Hun follows the Po downward into the yin realm—this too is the natural order. Thus, it is said that in heavy and turbid things, the Hun descends with the Po.

Those who rise due to benevolence (Ren) become assistants to the Wood Star (Jupiter)—because benevolence corresponds to Wood, in accordance with natural resonance. Those who wholeheartedly practice the Dao of kindness and beneficence to perfection will, after death, ascend as assistants to the Wood Star.

Those who rise due to righteousness (Yi) become assistants to the Metal Star (Venus)—because righteousness corresponds to Metal. Those who wholeheartedly practice righteous conduct that benefits all things to perfection will, after death, ascend as assistants to the Metal Star.

Those who rise due to propriety (Li) become assistants to the Fire Star (Mars)—because propriety corresponds to Fire. Those who wholeheartedly practice rituals honoring rulers and parents to perfection will, after death, ascend as assistants to the Fire Star.

Those who rise due to wisdom (Zhi) become assistants to the Water Star (Mercury)—because wisdom corresponds to Water. Those who wholeheartedly use wisdom to discern truth from falsehood and follow the true Dao will, after death, ascend as assistants to the Water Star.

Those who rise due to integrity (Xin) become assistants to the Earth Star (Saturn)—because integrity corresponds to Earth. Those who wholeheartedly practice the Dao of honesty, ensuring their words match their deeds to perfection, will, after death, ascend as assistants to the Earth Star.

Conversely:

The unkind will be punished by the Wood Star after death, the unjust by the Metal Star, the disrespectful by the Fire Star, the foolish by the Water Star, and the untrustworthy by the Earth Star.

This passage expounds the Daoist theory of karmic retribution. Those who commit unvirtuous acts will face judgment from the deities of the Five Sacred Mountains (Wuyue) after death:

Those who commit acts of inhumanity (such as cruelty and malice) will be detained and judged by the Eastern Sacred Mountain Taishan (associated with Wood) in what is called "Wood Thief" punishment. Those who specialize in unrighteous deeds (violating Daoist ethics) will be condemned by the Western Sacred Mountain Huashan (Metal) as "Metal Thieves." The disrespectful, disloyal, and unfilial will face retribution from the Southern Sacred Mountain Hengshan (Fire) as "Fire Thieves." The ignorant and morally confused will be judged by the Northern Sacred Mountain Hengshan (Water) as "Water Thieves," while liars and hypocrites will be punished by the Central Sacred Mountain Songshan (Earth) as "Earth Thieves."

Conversely, those who uphold the five constant virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness will receive protection from the Five Planets (associated with the Five Phases).

Regarding reincarnation: Those with mixed karma remain in the human realm for rebirth. Here, the Hun (ethereal soul) represents virtuous Yang Qi, while the Po (corporeal soul) embodies vicious Yin Qi. A Hun accumulated with good deeds may reincarnate as nobility ("ascending Hun as nobility"), whereas a Po burdened with misdeeds may be reborn into poverty ("descending Po as lowliness"). A wise Hun becomes a sage ("spiritual Hun as wisdom"), while an ignorant Po manifests as foolishness ("harsh Po as stupidity"). A refined Hun transforms into intelligence ("light Hun as clarity"), whereas a turbid Po results in dullness ("heavy Po as obscurity").

In essence: virtue begets reward, vice begets retribution, and mixed karma perpetuates earthly rebirth. These cosmic consequences operate through the Five Sacred Mountains' Five Phase system and the transformation of Hun-Po energies.

The state of a person's hun (ethereal soul) and po (corporeal soul) determines their wisdom and character in this life. Those who cultivated wisdom and virtue in their previous existence will possess light, ethereal souls, making them intelligent in this life; those who were foolish and committed evil deeds will carry heavy, corporeal souls, resulting in dullness. This explains why malevolent po (vicious souls) lead to stupidity, while light hun (luminous souls) bring wisdom.

After death, souls transform according to one's actions in life: those who were frivolous and wicked will have their yang hun turn into feathered creatures like birds; the dull and evil will have their dense po transform into hairy beasts; the wise and upright, who abhorred evil and pursued goodness, will have their bright hun ascend as divine spirits; while those who reveled in darkness, deceit, and theft will have their shadowy po degenerate into ghosts. These transformations follow the correspondences of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water).

Whether noble or common, wise or foolish, bird or beast, spirit or ghost—their forms, dwellings, and consciousness all stem from the karmic consequences of past actions. For instance, adhering to the five constant virtues (humanity, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness) brings blessings akin to the support of the five planets (Venus, Jupiter, etc.), while violating them invites punishment from the deities of the Five Sacred Mountains (Tai Shan, etc.).

The interplay of the Five Phases is infinite: Water corresponds to the numbers one and six, Fire to two and seven, Wood to three and eight, Metal to four and nine, and Earth to five and ten. It is this uneven numerical pattern of the Five Phases, combined with the interaction of yin and yang qi, that gives rise to the myriad creatures—birds, beasts, plants, and trees—ensuring the ceaseless proliferation of life between heaven and earth.

The five human faculties also correspond to the Five Phases: vision (Wood, as the liver governs the eyes), hearing (Water, as the kidneys govern the ears), eating (Earth, as the spleen governs the mouth), breathing (Metal, as the lungs govern the nose), and thought (Fire, as the heart governs the mind). This correspondence extends to the generation of the "five creatures" (feathered, hairy, etc.), the profundity of which is beyond full description.

The ears manifest the kidneys externally. Since the kidneys correspond to the Water phase, hearing also belongs to Water. The tongue manifests the heart externally. As the heart corresponds to the Fire phase, taste perception also belongs to Fire. The nose manifests the lungs externally. With the lungs corresponding to the Metal phase, respiration also belongs to Metal. Consciousness expresses the spleen's spiritual aspect. Because the spleen corresponds to the Earth phase, mental activity also belongs to Earth. This establishes the correspondence between the five sensory functions and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water).

Five categories of creatures similarly correspond to the Five Phases: The Wood phase (Jia-Yi of the East) governs 360 scaly creatures (linchong), with the dragon as their sovereign. The Fire phase (Bing-Ding of the South) governs 360 feathered creatures (yuchong), with the phoenix as their sovereign. The Earth phase (Wu-Ji of the Center) governs 360 naked creatures (luochong) without fur or scales, with the sage as their sovereign. The Metal phase (Geng-Xin of the West) governs 360 furry creatures (maochong), with the qilin as their sovereign. The Water phase (Ren-Gui of the North) governs 360 armored creatures (jiachong), with the spiritual turtle as their sovereign. This classification system encompasses all animals and plants, hence the saying "too numerous to fully describe."

Just as divination with turtle shells (zhaogui) or yarrow stalks (shushi) requires utmost sincerity to resonate with the Five Phases, insincere attempts yield no true response. Similarly, when the human mind transcends greed and attachment, maintaining purity and detachment, it rises above karmic cycles—the principle remains identical.

Sages navigate the material world through physical form, their virtues naturally corresponding to the Five Phases: benevolence (Wood), righteousness (Metal), propriety (Fire), and other constant virtues. Through these Five Constant Virtues (wuchang zhi de), they benefit all beings—this marvelous function is precisely achieved via Five Phases correspondence.

This scripture primarily discusses the correspondence between human consciousness and the Five Phases (Wuxing), as well as the principles of life formation.

The five human virtues correspond to the Five Phases: wisdom belongs to Water, and sincerity belongs to Earth. Sages move through the world by aligning with all things, and the attributes of the Five Phases naturally correspond to one another. Here, it is pointed out that if the mind becomes attached to external things, one falls into the cycle of karma; but if one transcends attachment, liberation from this cycle becomes possible.

Regarding the composition of human spirit: the hun (referring to conscious activity) consists of three elements—shi (cognitive ability), jing (vital essence), and shen (luminous awareness). The eyes' ability to distinguish colors relies on the shi within the hun, the jing within the eyes, and the shen that governs vision. This is not only true for sight but also for hearing, taste, smell, and thought—all depend on the combined function of shi, jing, and shen to discern various sensations.

In the process of life formation, paternal love resembles the jing of Water and serves as the father-principle of life, while maternal care (the mother's nurturing gaze) resembles the shen of Fire and serves as the mother-principle of life. Though the expressions of parental love differ, both contribute to the conception of new life through emotional resonance. Specifically: the father's jing belongs to Water (the number of Water in the Five Phases is one), and the mother's blood-qi belongs to Fire (the number of Fire is two). The fetus first receives the father's jing to form the primal vitality (taiyuan), which is the foundation of life; it then receives the mother's blood-qi to nourish its growth. The fusion of the parents' spirit, qi, and blood constitutes the root of new life.

When the human embryo first takes form, it receives the vital energy (Qi) of blood from the mother. This blood-Qi is fundamentally fiery in nature, which is why we say the mother's blood-Qi blazes like fire. Only when the father's and mother's energies intermingle—when the forces of Yin and Yang unite—can life continue its perpetual renewal.

True benevolent consciousness makes no distinctions, linking all things as naturally as interlocking chain links. When observing phenomena, it remains impartial like lamplight illuminating all objects equally. If one can maintain this state of non-discriminatory awareness without even generating self-consciousness, then how could the cycle of birth and death possibly arise? This chapter reveals that discriminatory thinking is the root of samsaric rebirth, while its absence leads to liberation from the wheel of transmigration.

Master Guan Yinzi (a Daoist figure) employs the metaphor of a drum: The drum's form represents our fundamental existence, while its sound symbolizes our perception of the world. After the drumstick strikes, though lingering echoes remain, they ultimately fade into silence. When we engage with worldly phenomena, external stimuli affect us just as the drumstick produces sound upon impact. As the striking ceases, the reverberations gradually dissipate—precisely as our mental impressions fade when external stimuli withdraw.

The drum's form corresponds to our vital essence (Jing) and Qi, its sound to our consciousness (Shen), while the echoes resemble our ethereal and corporeal souls (Hun and Po). One must realize these perceptions will ultimately vanish, just as all drumbeats eventually return to stillness.

My consciousness is clear and luminous, as tangible as the shape of a drum; yet in stillness, it responds instantly to external stimuli, like the sound produced when a drum is struck. Thus, the drum's form resembles my Jing (essence), while its sound mirrors my Shen (spirit). My soul can perceive and retain memories of external things, just as the drum's resonance lingers after the drumstick has left its surface—this lingering echo is akin to the human soul.

Understanding the impermanent nature of all things, one realizes: what significance do the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) hold for me? If a person fully comprehends that their true nature is originally the Great Void (the Daoist ultimate reality beyond form), remaining inwardly serene amid external changes, how could the energies of the Five Phases affect this state of emptiness? This chapter elucidates how the realm of true emptiness transcends the constraints of the Five Phases.

Chapter Eight explains: All fruits contain seeds, and their growth requires the cyclical interplay of three elements—water, fire, and earth. If any one is missing, as in cases of severe drought, flooding, or hardened soil, life cannot flourish.

Specifically, a seed buried in earth needs rain's moisture and sunlight's warmth to sprout into a tree. The tree then bears fruit, which again contains seeds, perpetuating the cycle. Without soil, or lacking the nourishment of rain and sunlight, the seed cannot grow. Just as no plant survives in extreme drought, floods, or compacted earth, so too in the human body: Jing (water), Shen (fire), and intention (earth) originally remain separate. Only during the union of parental Yin and Yang, in the state of mystical chaos, do these three temporarily merge, manifesting the phenomenon of life. Just as plants require the harmony of water, earth, and sunlight, human life emerges from this unique convergence of essence, spirit, and intention.

The process of life's propagation is as ceaseless as the sprouting and growth of seeds. Just as a fruit kernel germinates when encountering the three elements of water, fire, and earth, eventually growing into a great tree that bears new fruit, this perpetual cycle of regeneration manifests through the interaction of "Jing (essence)-water, Shen (spirit)-fire, and intention-earth." These three primordial forces originally remain separate; only through the human body as their medium can they unite to nurture new life.

This mirrors how Daoist ritual incantations (Fulu) can manifest phenomena from emptiness. Before parents unite, each maintains their original pure and ethereal nature. When their spiritual consciousness intertwines to produce offspring, it resembles a shaman conjuring spirits from voidness during rituals, creating wondrous phenomena. This chapter reveals that human nature is originally pristine and beyond birth-death cycles, only becoming trapped in samsara through attachment to desires.

Chapter Nine explains: The human hun (ethereal soul/consciousness) resembles water. Just as tree roots absorb water in winter to bloom in summer, the hun is nourished by Jing (vital essence) at night and manifests through Shen (spiritual awareness) by day. The hun is also like trees—nourished by water in winter, then blossoming under summer's fiery influence. Jing belongs to water, hun to wood (since water generates wood in the Five Phases), hence the hun relies on Jing's nourishment at night. Night corresponds to yin-water, day to yang-fire. Shen belongs to fire, thus the hun expresses its radiance through the eyes during daylight.

When united with Jing, all perceptions become unique personal experiences, for Jing's nature excludes others. When united with Shen, perceptions become shared collective experiences, for Shen's nature transcends self. Jing as water lacks differentiation—so does pure essence. Merging with ultimate Jing produces crystal-clear awareness, distinct from all else. Shen as fire lacks self-consciousness—so does pure spirit. Merging with ultimate Shen creates selfless responsiveness, naturally mirroring external phenomena. This chapter demonstrates how those attaining these ultimate states transcend the duality of self and other.

Master Guan Yinzi (a Daoist figure traditionally regarded as Laozi's disciple) said: When one realizes this body is like a dream-body—merely an illusion conjured by deluded thoughts—the spirit (Shen) can soar freely, wandering the celestial realms of Taiqing (Great Purity). The truly awakened understand that the physical form is a temporary aggregation of the four elements (earth, water, fire, wind), as insubstantial as dust, foam, or bubbles, mistakenly perceived as "self" due to clinging attachments. Penetrating this truth opens the gate to the wondrous realm of absolute emptiness (zhenkong), where consciousness moves unimpeded—reaching distant realms without running, arriving at Taiqing without walking. Taiqing here denotes the profound and mysterious state of the Dao (the Way).

Recognizing all phenomena as dreamlike apparitions arising from deluded thoughts enables one to condense vital essence (Jing) and Qi to manifest myriad forms, mastering the eight directions. "Phenomena" here refer to the marvelous functions of spiritual power. The awakened know even the six supernatural abilities are illusory as dreams; seeing through this, they coalesce a body of pure subtlety to perform miraculous feats, traversing the eight wastelands (bahuang) in an instant. The "eight wastelands" signify the farthest reaches: beyond the Four Seas lie the Eight Horizons (bahong); beyond them, the Eight Expanses (bayan); further still, the Eight Regions (baqu); then the Eight Extremes (baji); and beyond even these, the Eight Wastelands—bordering the primordial chaos (hongmeng) of undifferentiated vastness. Taiqing also names the celestial realm where Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun) dwells, above the Four Peoples' Heavens, a pure paradise of immortals.

Those who attain the Dao take the absolute emptiness of the Great Void (taixu) as their essence, reaching distant wastelands or nearby spaces in a flash, their transformations of Yin-Yang so unfathomable even spirits and ghosts cannot perceive them. Without relying on external aids, they roam the Taiqing realms beyond the eight wastelands in an instant. At times, they manifest miraculous transformations to awaken the deluded, inspiring devotion to the Dao. Sometimes, their spirit projects an externalized form, riding the void to ascend to Taiqing. Other times, they condense Jing-Qi into manifestations—dragons, tigers, phoenixes, cranes, turtles, carp, or celestial towers—using these as playful vehicles to wander beyond the eight wastelands, treating cultivation as divine sport.

This passage describes two realms of cultivating the true Dao. The first is "being able to perceive the Shen (spirit) and achieve longevity." It means that when one comprehends the profound truth of the ineffable Dao, the body becomes still like withered wood, and the mind becomes tranquil like cooled ashes. Naturally, this leads to stabilized Shen and concentrated Qi (vital energy), achieving the effects of rejuvenation and prolonging life. It is like the legendary Guangchengzi (a Daoist immortal) who lived for 1,200 years without showing signs of aging.

The second realm is "being able to forget the Shen (spirit) and transcend life." When cultivation reaches the state where both body and mind are like withered wood and cold ashes, one can surpass the cycle of life and death. Two cultivation methods are mentioned here: regulating Jing (essence) and Qi through breath control, akin to how Metal generates Water in the Five Phases; and nurturing the Shen by absorbing clear winds, akin to how Wood generates Fire in the Five Phases. These methods rely on external techniques to preserve the Shen and prevent its dissipation.

Additionally, there are two internal cultivation methods: nourishing Jing by rinsing the mouth to produce saliva, ensuring the Jing never depletes; and protecting the Shen by massaging the navel region (Dantian, energy center) to generate warmth, ensuring the Shen never exhausts. These are methods of preserving the Shen without relying on external aids, achieved through internal cultivation.

The "minor health-preserving techniques" mentioned refer to simple yet practical methods for nurturing life, such as breath regulation and acupoint massage. These methods embody the Daoist principle of "dual cultivation of nature and life" (Xingming Shuangxiu), emphasizing both physical maintenance and mental refinement.

These two chapters of the Wenshi Zhenjing (Scripture of Perfect Beginning) primarily discuss the essentials of cultivation and the corresponding methods of self-cultivation through the Five Phases (Wuxing).

Chapter 11 emphasizes that the key to cultivating the Dao lies in inner awakening. Those who cling to external forms or rely on refining inner essence (Jing) and vital energy (Qi) to sustain their spirit (Shen) are only practicing minor techniques and superficial methods. The true higher state is to forget the very concept of spirit and transcend the cycle of life and death, directly realizing the origin of emptiness. This realm is so profound and unfathomable that even the notion of "spirit" ceases to exist—naturally, there is no life or death to transcend. Master Guan Yin (a Daoist figure) states that he only teaches this fundamental Dao and does not pass on fragmented minor arts.

Chapter 12 explains cultivation methods through the theory of the Five Phases: Diligently practicing ritual propriety (associated with Fire) stabilizes the spirit, as focused reverence pacifies the mind. Diligently cultivating wisdom (associated with Water) preserves essence (Jing), as discernment of truth prevents its dissipation. Practicing benevolence (associated with Wood) clarifies the ethereal soul (Hun), as kindness and quiet cultivation make the soul light. Upholding righteousness (associated with Metal) governs the physical body, as penetrating truth purifies the body. This chapter illustrates that virtues like benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom are actually wondrous applications of Daoist cultivation.

The chapter concludes with an analogy of a dung beetle rolling a ball of dung: once the ball takes shape, larvae (grubs) naturally develop inside, and after molting, they transform into cicadas. This metaphor suggests that cultivation should follow the natural Dao—focusing on the fundamentals will naturally lead to accomplishment, just as the dung ball transforms into a cicada through spontaneous metamorphosis.

The dung beetle, when rolling its ball of waste, shapes the mass into a perfect sphere before burrowing into the earth. Clutching the sphere with unwavering focus, it pours its entire Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) into the ball, ultimately transforming into a white larva. Nourished through autumn, winter, and spring, the larva—when exposed to summer's fiery Qi—climbs vegetation or walls. Soon its back splits open in molting, emerging as a cicada that ascends treetops to live on wind and dew. This illustrates a truth: had the beetle not concentrated wholeheartedly on its sphere, how could the white larva manifest? All transformations of form arise from clinging to illusions.

When a cook prepares crabs, occasionally a severed leg remains twitching on the cutting board even as the crab becomes soup. This demonstrates that life and death are merely the gathering and dispersal of Qi—where Qi gathers, there is life; where Qi scatters, death follows. The leg's movement persists only because residual Qi lingers. In truth, there is no intrinsic life or death—these are distinctions imposed by deluded minds.

Our true nature originates from the "Five Ultimates" (Wutai, the five primordial stages before cosmic formation in Daoist cosmology), a state of absolute emptiness preceding even the existence of Qi. This fundamental void-nature transcends the aggregation and dissipation of Qi, rendering concepts of life and death irrelevant. The ignorant perceive Qi coalescing into form and call it "life," or Qi dispersing as form decays and call it "death"—all this is illusory attachment. This chapter reveals: intrinsic nature knows no birth or death; the fearful minds of the deluded fabricate these concepts.

Chapter Fourteen explains that people die in different ways—some standing, some sitting, some lying down, some from illness, some by poison. Though the forms of death differ in these five manners (standing, sitting, lying, illness, poisoning), the essence of death remains the same. Just as it is meaningless to classify deaths using celestial stems (Jia, Yi), death itself carries no hierarchy of value.

Those who truly comprehend the Dao see through the nature of life and thus do not cling to concepts of death. They understand the body is merely a temporary illusion formed by the aggregation of the Four Elements (earth, water, fire, wind)—like dust gathering or foam briefly floating, as transient as a rented dwelling. Since even "life" is illusory, "death" naturally holds no real meaning. This chapter clarifies that the Dao itself transcends distinctions of life and death, and to those who awaken to it, the boundary between the two dissolves.

Chapter Fifteen points out that aversion to life and death, or the desire to transcend them, actually becomes a major obstacle in cultivation. Life and death are natural manifestations of the Dao’s workings, and forcibly trying to surpass them contradicts the Dao’s true principle. When teaching others, if one only instructs them to despise life and death and seek transcendence, it becomes instruction in demonic arts rather than genuine Daoist practice. This chapter reveals that those who truly understand the Dao neither despise life and death nor deliberately pursue liberation from them.

Chapter Sixteen further explains that life and death are themselves expressions of the Dao’s natural flow. Deliberately seeking transcendence is as much a misunderstanding as despising them. Just as a teacher who emphasizes only surpassing life and death will produce not Dao cultivators but seekers of strange and heterodox techniques. The true Dao transcends all dualistic attachment to life and death—neither clinging to life nor fearing death. Flowing with natural spontaneity (Wuwei) is the authentic path.

Regarding the question of life and death, people hold various views. Some claim the soul persists after death, others insist on complete annihilation, while still others suggest a paradoxical state of both existence and non-existence—all mere conjectures about the unknowable.

Some liken the body to a rented house: though the structure decays, the tenant (one's true nature) remains, thus asserting postmortem continuity. Others compare life to grass withering in autumn—human death resembles an extinguished lamp, leaving nothing behind. A third group observes spirit possession phenomena and speculates about an ambiguous intermediate state between being and non-being.

Attitudes toward death diverge similarly: some welcome it as liberation, others dread it as torment, some advocate acceptance, while ascetics vow to transcend it entirely.

Those who rejoice argue: "What proves ineffective in life becomes potent in death; earthly sorrows yield to posthumous bliss." Like excising a tumor brings relief, they celebrate mortality as deliverance. The fearful counter: "Ghosts wander eternal darkness—lightless, homeless, friendless, starving—a truly horrific fate." The accepting remain indifferent to life's fleeting transitions, neither exulting nor trembling. Transcendence-seekers devote themselves to Daoist cultivation (xiulian), aiming to escape the wheel of rebirth.

These eight positions on "postmortem existence" and "proper death-attitudes" merely reflect the ceaseless churn of deluded thoughts and attachments.

In truth, they fail to comprehend that birth-death distinctions are as illusory as horses growing hands or oxen sprouting wings. Authentic nature transcends "being" and "non-being"—an indestructible essence that fire cannot scorch nor water drown. Those who debate mortality resemble fools insisting equines possess manual appendages.

(Note: Key terms like "cultivation" (xiulian) follow standard Daoist translations without parenthetical pinyin after initial glossary establishment.)

Here, the text employs metaphors of an ox growing wings in vain attempts to fly, or horses and oxen deludedly imagining they possess hands and wings—illustrating that life and death fundamentally do not exist, nor does even the concept of "no life and death" hold any reality. Thus, human life and death are like the hands of a horse or the wings of an ox: inherently absent, let alone the notion of "non-nonexistence" (where even the idea of "nonexistence" itself is negated).

The original, true state is one of wondrous existence within emptiness (an absolute reality beyond being and nonbeing), unified with the Great Void (the cosmic source). Using emptiness to merge with emptiness is like casting fire into fire—it does not obstruct the flame's radiance, nor does fire consume itself. Pouring water into water does not disturb its clarity, nor does water drown itself. Hence, just as fire and water may meet yet fire cannot burn water nor water extinguish fire, so too is the nature of reality.

This chapter elucidates that when human desires and discriminating consciousness cease to arise, one realizes that life and death were never real to begin with.

(This is Chapter 17)

Commentary on the Wenzhen Jing, Volume 4