《文始真經註》Vol. 8

The ancient masters skilled in divination with yarrow stalks and turtle shell scorching could discern timeless principles through contemporary events, just as they employed ancient wisdom to interpret present fortunes and misfortunes. This embodies the concept of "understanding antiquity through the present, and comprehending the present through antiquity."

The art of divination reveals hidden dangers beneath seemingly auspicious appearances (Heaven's Yang aspect symbolizing good fortune), while also pointing to transformative opportunities within apparently ominous circumstances (Earth's Yin aspect representing adversity). Through divination, an individual's destiny mirrors the rise and fall of nations, just as cosmic patterns influence personal fortunes. Like how one's gains and losses may foretell material abundance, so too can wealth's ebb and flow reflect life's vicissitudes.

Divination further unveils the dynamics of human relationships. By examining one's birth characters (the fate-determining combination of year, month, day, and hour in ancient destiny analysis), one may deduce the fortunes of parents, siblings, spouses, and children - conversely, the condition of relatives reflects the individual's destined path. This mutual reflection embodies the subtle interconnection between Heaven, Earth, and Humanity that divination reveals.

(Note: "Yarrow stalk divination" refers to the ancient method of prognostication using Achillea stems, while "turtle shell scorching" denotes reading crack patterns on heated plastrons for omens. Niu Daochun here explicates Master Guan Yinzi's divination principles, demonstrating how all phenomena maintain reciprocal correspondences.)

This scripture elucidates the characteristic of Dao (the core concept of Daoism, referring to the cosmic origin and ultimate truth) as transcending all dualistic oppositions. The text reveals that Dao exists beyond temporal constraints—it neither recognizes the concept of "present" nor distinguishes "past," operating independently and surpassing all notions of antiquity and modernity. Similarly, Dao is unbound by spatial limitations: it has neither fixed height nor determinate depth, permeating the entire void and being omnipresent.

Dao is simultaneously infinitely vast and infinitesimally small—so expansive it has no boundaries, yet so minute it cannot be divided. It is neither singular nor multiple. As the source of all things (the "Five Ultimates" denote the five stages of cosmic evolution, while the "Two Modes" refer to Yin-Yang), Dao generates heaven and earth through the transformation of primordial Qi. All beings rely on Dao for their continuous existence at every moment; severed from Dao, they would perish. Thus, while all phenomena manifest Dao, Dao itself is not confined by their multiplicity.

Dao makes no distinction between inner and outer, erasing the division between "objects" and "humans." It recognizes neither near nor far, dissolving the boundaries between "self" and "other." Like the void, it can neither be dispersed nor assembled—it defies verbal analogy and intellectual comprehension. This state of undifferentiated unity constitutes the true nature of Dao. If humans awaken to the realization that this perfect essence is inherently complete within themselves, they may return to the origin of Dao.

This commentary on the Wenzhen Zhenjing discusses the relationship between the Dao (cosmic origin) and the Five Phases (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth), as well as how they give rise to all phenomena in the world.

The opening passage states that the true Dao is the natural and authentic state of being, free from artificial manipulation. The Dao itself is an undifferentiated whole that cannot be analyzed or understood through concrete forms or quantifiable measures. We merely assign it the name "Dao" as a provisional designation for this primordial unity.

The text then uses the Five Phases to explain the patterns of cosmic manifestation:

Water naturally tends to conceal itself, thus it nurtures the five essential life forms (the "Five Jing," referring to scaled, feathered, furred, armored, and bare-skinned creatures). Water corresponds to the kidneys and governs "Jing" (essence) in the spiritual dimension.

Fire naturally ascends, thus it disperses the five types of odors (raw, gamey, fragrant, scorched, and rotten). Fire corresponds to the heart and governs "Shen" (spirit).

Wood naturally flourishes, thus it manifests the five colors (blue-green, yellow, red, white, and black). Wood corresponds to the liver and governs "Hun" (ethereal soul).

Metal's nature is firm, and when struck it produces the five musical tones (gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu). Metal corresponds to the lungs and governs "Po" (corporeal soul).

Earth's nature is harmonizing, thus it cultivates the five flavors (sour, salty, sweet, pungent, and bitter). Earth corresponds to the spleen and governs "Yi" (intention).

These Five Phases each possess their inherent virtues (the Five Constants: benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness), yet their transformations are limitless. They correspond to celestial phenomena like the five planets, terrestrial features like the five sacred mountains, spatial directions, as well as manifestations like the five colors, five tones, five surname classifications, five metals, five odors, five life essences, five flavors, five animal categories, five virtues, five destructive forces, five organs, five spiritual aspects, and five emotions.

The commentary concludes by observing that while the myriad things of heaven and earth are called "ten thousand," we should not fixate on numerical concepts. Though the Five Phases have only five fundamental attributes, their infinite combinations and transformations produce boundless phenomena.

This passage explores the Daoist contemplation of the world's fundamental origin. The essence is this: though the myriad things between heaven and earth appear complex and diverse, they ultimately stem from the singular root of "One."

First, consider the concept of "myriad." The countless things in the world cannot be rigidly fixed as an absolute quantity of "ten thousand," for all phenomena are in constant flux. Next, examine the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) — though all things can be categorized within their transformations, we must not fixate on them as five immutable elements, for they too undergo perpetual transformation. Finally, there is "One." While the Five Phases ultimately return to this singular root, "One" itself is ceaselessly generative and cannot be grasped as a fixed concept.

Conversely, we cannot wholly negate the concepts of "myriad," "five," or "One." Though we shouldn't cling to specific numbers, phenomena do organize within the Five Phases, which in turn are governed by the singular principle.

People often attempt to unify the myriad things into "One" or divide "One" into the Five Phases and the ten thousand things. Such attachment to form, quantity, and the transformations of Qi (vital energy) is ultimately futile. The moment discriminating mind arises, one becomes trapped within the limitations of form, number, and energy. By returning to one's true nature, one transcends these external transformations to reach the state where both self and objects are forgotten.

This passage reveals a core Daoist insight: neither cling to particular phenomena nor completely deny them, but rather perceive the essence through the phenomena. True wisdom lies in transcending external distinctions like form and quantity, returning to the fundamental "One."

The transformations of Qi (vital energy) between heaven and earth cannot be confined or restricted ("the numerical qi movements cannot be constrained"). This is the content of the second chapter.

Master Guan Yin (a representative Daoist figure) said: Our mind can give birth to all things. When the mind focuses on something, attachment follows; where attachment goes, Jing (essence) and Qi gather. The mind is originally pure and empty, like the vast sky untouched by anything. But if a single deluded thought suddenly arises in this pure mind without recognizing its illusory nature, countless emotions will emerge in succession, accumulating into myriad attachments that ultimately entangle and obscure all phenomena. The scripture states: "One attachment accumulates into ten thousand attachments, ten thousand attachments accumulate into all things"—this is the principle.

Wherever the mind's deluded thoughts point, they flow along with the object of attachment. Among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), attachment corresponds to Water, which in turn relates to Jing. Thus when the mind focuses on something, both attachment and Jing-Qi follow it there. Here, "follow" means "to go toward."

When the mind becomes attached, it first condenses into watery manifestations: saliva forms when desiring food, tears flow when grieving, sweat appears when feeling shame. This occurs because the body's primordial Qi manifests according to the mind's inclinations. When the mind clings to a particular state, it becomes bound by that realm. As the mind sticks to things, Qi transforms into watery forms—saliva for coveted food, tears for departed loved ones, sweat for personal failings.

Nothing in this world lingers briefly without vanishing, nor does anything remain eternally unchanged. "Brief" refers to temporary existence, "eternal" to constant stillness, and "change" to movement and transformation. Without seeing through the impermanence of arising and ceasing attachments, one cannot awaken to the eternally still mind within true emptiness; conversely, without realizing this originally empty and still true mind, one cannot maintain inner tranquility amid the world's ceaseless changes. This is the profound meaning behind "nothing brief lasts forever, nothing eternal stays unchanged."

This scripture primarily discusses the mutual generation and restraint among the Five Phases (Wuxing) and their correspondence with the five internal organs, along with key concepts in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) practice.

The Five Phases interact through cycles of generation and restraint: Water generates Wood, Wood generates Fire, Fire generates Earth, Earth generates Metal, and Metal generates Water—forming an endless generative cycle. Simultaneously, they restrain one another: Water restrains Fire, Fire restrains Metal, Metal restrains Wood, Wood restrains Earth, and Earth restrains Water. This dynamic interplay of generation and restraint creates the myriad phenomena of heaven and earth, forming relationships too intricate to quantify with simple calculations.

The five human organs correspond to the Five Phases:

• The heart belongs to Fire, houses the Shen (spirit), and resonates with joy
• The liver belongs to Wood, houses the Hun (ethereal soul), and tends toward anger
• The spleen belongs to Earth, houses the Yi (intention), and favors contemplation
• The lungs belong to Metal, house the Po (corporeal soul), and incline toward sorrow
• The kidneys belong to Water, house the Jing (essence), and are prone to fear

These organs also share generative relationships: Jing generates Hun (fear generates anger), Hun generates Shen (anger generates joy), Shen generates Yi (joy generates contemplation), Yi generates Po (contemplation generates sorrow), and Po generates Jing (sorrow generates fear).

The latter portion of the scripture explains Neidan terminology and symbolism:

• "Infant" refers to the primordial Yang Qi transformed from kidney essence
• "Tender Maiden" denotes the heart's spiritual fluid
• "Golden Tower" represents the lungs, also called the "Twelve-Storied Tower"
• "Crimson Palace" signifies the heart
• "Azure Dragon" or "Blue Serpent" symbolizes the liver's Hun
• "White Tiger" represents the lung's Po
• "Precious Cauldron" embodies the body's original Qi (Yang aspect)
• "Red Furnace" symbolizes the heart's Shen (Yin aspect)

In cultivation practice, the body and mind function like alchemical vessels, while the Shen and Qi serve as the medicinal ingredients. These terms metaphorically describe the transformative process of Jing, Qi, and Shen during Neidan practice.

This scripture primarily discusses the relationship between "Shen-Qi" (the subtle energies that constitute all things) and the Dao. Though formless and without appearance, the Dao is the source of Shen-Qi—a primordial Dao that transcends ordinary human comprehension. Here, it is explained that the Dao operates through Shen-Qi, giving rise to infinite transformations.

Chapter Three illustrates the inevitability of transformation in all things through natural phenomena. Beasts and birds progress from their initial cries (yōu yōu) to full maturity (xún xún), and ultimately to decline and death (táo táo). Plants sprout (zhuó zhuó), grow tall and firm (tíng tíng), and finally wither and fade (xiāo xiāo). These fleeting changes demonstrate that the cycle of life and death is a natural law—one that even the vast heavens and earth, or sages with divine powers, cannot halt.

The text speaks of a naturally operating force ("there exists that which moves all things"), which drives the endless transformations of life through the interplay of Yin-Yang, the Five Phases, and the shifting seasons. On the other hand, when the human mind awakens and aligns with the Dao, it transcends the constraints of form and Qi, no longer bound by these natural laws ("that which is not resides here"). Just as a drumstick does not strike a drum without being wielded, and a hand does not strike without holding the drumstick, the enlightened mind remains unaffected by external changes.

This scripture primarily explores the difference between how the ordinary mind engages with external phenomena and the realm of Dao.

When human emotions remain unattached to external things, the mind becomes clear and luminous, like empty space itself. How could the Creator possibly shape emptiness? The awakened mind resembles a drum without drumsticks—without being struck, it produces no sound. To oppose creation is to be trapped by deluded emotions; to not oppose creation allows one to maintain uniqueness and enter genuine empty awareness. Before true emptiness manifests, how could deluded emotions attach to external phenomena? It's like drumsticks that aren't held—they cannot strike the drum. This chapter illustrates: those bewildered by the myriad things cannot transcend the transformative processes of the great Dao, while those awakened to true emptiness remain unaffected by Dao's transformations.

Chapter Four states: Essentially, all things share the same nature. Ordinary people, confused by the names of things, see only phenomena and miss the Dao; sages can analyze principles, perceiving Dao while overlooking phenomena. What we call "the One" is the indivisible Dao, while "things" constitute heaven, earth, and the myriad beings. All existence relies on this non-dual Dao. Dao permeates all things universally. Ordinary people, bewildered by names, fixate on phenomena and fail to see Dao; sages comprehend principles, discerning truth while transcending phenomena.

The sage harmonizes with celestial Dao, neither seeing Dao nor seeing things. Upon awakening, the sage unites with innate celestial nature, understanding Dao's essence while forgetting its name. If even Dao's name can be forgotten, how much more so phenomena? Thus we say the sage joins with heaven, neither seeing Dao nor seeing things. Dao is fundamentally non-dual and omnipresent—hence "the One Dao is all Dao."

Non-attachment is Dao; attachment is phenomena. When the mind dwells nowhere, completely released, it merges with the wondrous existence of true emptiness; when the mind dwells somewhere, clinging to distinctions, it becomes deluded by external conditions.

Master Guan Yinzi (a key Daoist figure and disciple of Laozi) explains in this chapter: Once one realizes that all things exist in relative terms, there is no need to deliberately avoid external objects. It's like clay-molded oxen or wood-carved horses—though we still call them oxen and horses, we understand they aren't real oxen or horses.

The truly wise awaken to the truth that all material phenomena are illusory and unreal. When this understanding is deeply internalized, one naturally won't be deluded by external things, maintaining inner clarity and purity without the need to forcibly reject them. Hence the saying: "Those who know the illusory nature of things need not deliberately avoid them."

Just as when we see clay oxen or wooden horses, we may still call them oxen and horses with our mouths, but our minds know they aren't the real thing. This chapter teaches that once one genuinely awakens to the illusory nature of the material world, the mind naturally remains pure and undisturbed by external influences.

(This is the sixth section of Chapter 8 in the Commentary on the Wenzhen Jing, the Scripture of Perfect Awakening.)