《沖虛至德真經四解》Vol. 7

This chapter of the Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Emptiness and Ultimate Virtue) explores the profound philosophy of form and spirit, reality and illusion through the story of King Mu of Zhou.

The human body (form) serves as a vessel for life, changing in response to external transformations (hua). The interactions of the spirit (shen) give rise to dreams, while bodily perceptions constitute waking consciousness. At their root, the changes of life and death all return to emptiness—for the physical form ultimately decays, ending after a hundred years; emotional fluctuations are transient and fleeting; while the spiritual consciousness appears and disappears like shadows. Those who comprehend this truth perceive the alternation of life and death as no different from waking and dreaming, remaining unperturbed even as the myriad things transform.

The ignorant always mistake visible things for reality, considering the physical body their sole abode. How could they know that heaven and earth are but a vast container, while the spiritual consciousness is the true master of life? Sages focus on cultivating the root (spiritual consciousness), whereas ordinary people only know how to nourish their forms. They cling to life without understanding its essence, believing death occurs when the physical form perishes, unaware that the spiritual consciousness exists eternally. Those deluded by this principle remain ordinary, while those who penetrate it become sages.

During King Mu of Zhou's reign, a "transformation master" (a wonder-worker skilled in metamorphic magic) came from the westernmost kingdom. This master possessed extraordinary powers: traversing fire and water, penetrating metal and stone, moving mountains and cities, flying through the air without falling, and passing through solid objects unimpeded. These miraculous abilities precisely demonstrate the transcendence of the delusion that "physical form equals reality"—when one surpasses the limitations of form, so-called physical laws no longer pose obstacles.

The "Transformation Master" encountered by King Mu of Zhou possessed extraordinary abilities. He could alter the forms of objects at will and temporarily transform people's cognition, making them forget their original perceptions. Those who truly comprehend the Dao (the Way) of transformation probably understand the workings of divine spirits? Neither water nor fire could harm him; metal and stone posed no obstacle. In his eyes, high and low, noble and base were equal, while the distinctions between reality and illusion held no significance. Such boundless, ever-changing capabilities were indeed worthy of being called divine.

Yet what we refer to as "divine" is ultimately subtle and unfathomable. The Transformation Master's ability to alter forms and shift perceptions was fundamentally achieved through penetrating insight into natural laws and aligning with circumstances—hence he was called the "Transformation Master." King Mu revered him as if he were a deity and served him as if he were a ruler.

Ordinary people spend their days preoccupied with desires, joys and sorrows, fame and profit—mundane concerns. The Transformation Master, however, returned to simplicity and purity. His body could adapt to external transformations, his wisdom was boundless, and his application of skill was inexhaustible, with endless variations. King Mu specially constructed lavish palaces for him, offered the finest sacrificial animals, and selected beautiful women and musicians to please him. Yet the Transformation Master found the royal palace too crude to dwell in, the imperial cuisine too foul-smelling to eat, and the concubines too heavily perfumed to approach. This demonstrated that the Transformation Master placed no value on sensual pleasures or extravagant dwellings.

Thus, King Mu undertook massive construction projects, employing every architectural technique and exhausting the treasury to erect the "Mid-Heaven Tower," a structure towering thousands of feet high, overlooking Mount Zhongnan. He gathered the most beautiful women from Zheng and Wei, adorned with exquisite makeup, jewelry, fine silk garments, fragrant herbs, and jade pendants, filling the pavilions and halls. Ancient music such as the Chengyun of the Yellow Emperor, the Liuying of Emperor Ku, the Jiushao of Emperor Shun, and the Chenlu of King Tang of Shang was performed to enhance the atmosphere.

This scripture recounts the encounter between King Mu of Zhou and a "transformation being" (化人)—a miraculous entity capable of shape-shifting and transcending ordinary laws. When this being arrived at King Mu's palace, he showed no interest in its lavish furnishings or exquisite delicacies. Failing to comprehend the being's elevated state, the king only redoubled his efforts with more extravagant decorations and rare delicacies, yet the transformed being remained indifferent, for his mind dwelled far beyond such worldly pleasures.

The text reveals how worldly distinctions between beauty and ugliness, the divine and the foul, are fluid and ultimately indistinguishable. The transformation being deemed the king's palace, cuisine, and concubines insufficiently pure, demanding instead a simple dwelling before he would consent to stay. This shows that despite his supernatural powers, the being had not yet fully transcended dualistic perceptions of beauty and repulsion. King Mu, awestruck, began revering him as a divine presence.

Later passages quote Confucius to explain that such transformation beings roam in harmony with the cosmic process of creation (造化). They traverse water and fire, penetrate metal and stone, move mountains and cities, pass through solid matter with emptiness, and enter form through formlessness—their transformations know no bounds. King Mu offered his most extravagant hospitality: cloud-piercing towers, the rarest music, jade garments and delicacies, unaware these meant nothing to the being, who merely accommodated them with detached grace.

Soon, the being invited King Mu to journey through celestial realms. Holding the being's sleeve, the king soared midair until they reached a palace constructed of gold and silver, adorned with jewels, floating above clouds and rain—from afar resembling piled cumulus. Everything seen, heard, tasted, or touched there transcended the human realm. King Mu mistook this for the "Pure Capital and Purple Tenuity" (清都紫微), the Daoist celestial abode of the Heavenly Emperor, where he heard the "Cosmic Heavenly Music" (钧天广乐) of the immortals.

Through this contrast between king and transformed being, the text illustrates how Daoist practitioners should transcend worldly luxuries to pursue higher spiritual states. Simultaneously, it vividly depicts the Daoist imagination of immortal realms—where spatial limits dissolve, metamorphic powers flourish, and wondrous paradises exist beyond mortal reach.

This scripture recounts the miraculous celestial journeys of two ancient rulers—Duke Mu of Qin and Zhao Jianzi. The "Purple Palace of Celestial Purity" where the Heavenly Emperor resides represents the most exalted realm of the celestial domain, featuring the "Cosmic Music of Heaven" (钧天广乐, Juntian Guangyue) and magnificent dances surpassing even the finest music of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties in the human world.

During an illness, Duke Mu of Qin experienced a spiritual journey to the celestial realm. Upon awakening, he described the Heavenly Emperor's palaces and towers as resembling "piled earth and firewood"—a metaphor illustrating how celestial phenomena transcend mortal comprehension. He dwelled there for what felt like decades without desiring to return, demonstrating how celestial bliss can transform human consciousness. However, when the guiding immortal (化人, Huaren) led him deeper into the profound void, he encountered a realm beyond sun, moon, or rivers, where light and sound exceeded sensory tolerance, causing dizziness and spiritual disorientation that compelled his return.

The text explains that the mystical state of the Great Void (太虚, Taixu)—the cosmic origin—is inherently beyond mortal endurance, with sensory confusion being a natural response. While celestial treasures, divine music, and paradisiacal scenes make one forget earthly attachments, the deeper cosmic truths may instead cause discomfort. This experience is termed "transforming the forms of things and altering human perception" (变物之形而易人之虑, Bianwu zhi xing er yi ren zhi lü).

When Duke Mu awakened, he found the wine and food from before his journey still warm, with attendants unmoved—revealing the differing flow of time between celestial and earthly realms. Through these royal journeys, the text presents Daoist cosmology's layered understanding of universal dimensions: from the splendid heavenly palaces to the more profound mysteries of the Great Void, mortals must gradually adapt to comprehend higher truths.

This passage recounts the wondrous encounter between King Mu of Zhou and a Hua Ren (a Daoist immortal capable of shape-shifting). The Hua Ren guided King Mu to experience the state of "spiritual journeying," through which the king comprehended the true relationship between form and spirit.

For three months, King Mu sat in silent meditation, completely immersed in the realms revealed by the Hua Ren, even forgetting to partake of food and wine. The immortal explained: "We are traveling through spiritual journeying—why should the physical form need to move? The marvel of Shen (spirit) lies in its ability to reach distant places instantly without rapid movement. It's like the dreams one has while dozing, where centuries of events and faraway sights can be experienced in moments. When awake, one can traverse beyond heaven and earth in the blink of an eye—how much more so for accomplished practitioners whose heart-mind transcends physical limitations, attaining a state of perfect harmony, stillness, and emptiness."

The Hua Ren challenged King Mu: "What difference exists between where I dwell and your palace? Between the gardens I roam and your royal parks? People habitually take the familiar as real and doubt what suddenly disappears—these are all delusions of the mind. The ultimate mystery of transformation, the subtle mechanism of speed and slowness—how could ordinary intellect fathom them?"

This reveals a crucial Daoist insight: ordinary people consider common phenomena as real and uncommon ones as illusory. Yet neither existence nor emptiness represents ultimate truth. Understanding this principle shows that the Hua Ren's abode and the royal palace share the same essence, just as the immortal's travels mirror the king's garden strolls. Practitioners must transcend dualistic perceptions of "the familiar" and "the ephemeral" to realize the sublime state where form and spirit both attain perfection.

This passage describes a wondrous experience of spirit journeying (shenyou), depicting King Mu of Zhou's interaction with a shape-shifting immortal (huaren) in Daoist tradition, revealing a state where the spirit transcends physical form.

As King Mu ascended to great heights with the immortal, the palaces below appeared like mere piles of earth and grass, completely transforming his perception of reality. In their spiritual voyage, they reached a realm where looking up revealed neither sun, moon nor stars, and gazing down showed no trace of rivers or lakes. The dazzling light overwhelmed the king's vision while chaotic sounds confused his hearing. Trembling throughout his body with spirit (shen) in disarray, King Mu begged the immortal to return him. Upon regaining consciousness, he found himself seated exactly where he began, with wine and food untouched—realizing he had experienced pure spirit journeying.

The text emphasizes the nature of shen: it requires neither swift movement to arrive instantly nor physical steps to reach any destination. Existing in immeasurable dimensions and wandering through emptiness (xu), it can traverse the four seas between an upward glance and downward look, organizing all directions in moments of trance, completely unbound by physical constraints. Those who truly comprehend this principle can control the speed and extent of transformation at will—how could the immortal's palace ever be distant?

Ultimately, King Mu attained profound awakening through this experience. He abandoned concern for state affairs, disregarded courtly attendants, and completely forgot worldly matters of governance and social hierarchy, single-mindedly pursuing this transcendent spiritual state. Through this spirit journeying experience, the passage vividly illustrates the Daoist ideal of spiritual liberation and the separation of form (xing) from spirit (shen).

This passage recounts the story of King Mu of Zhou's obsession with pleasure-seeking. The king was particularly fond of pursuing sensual delights, devoting all his attention to extravagant travels while completely neglecting affairs of state. Riding in a chariot drawn by eight magnificent steeds, he journeyed far and wide, utterly forgetting the pressing matters that demanded his attention.

The text vividly describes his lavish procession: the lead chariot was driven by Zaofu (a legendary charioteer of antiquity), flanked by renowned steeds Hualiu and Lü'er on either side; the secondary carriage was steered by Canbai, accompanied by famous horses like Quhuang and Yulun. They raced thousands of miles until reaching the land of the Jusou people. The Jusou chieftain presented the king with precious white crane's blood to drink and even washed the monarch's feet with the milk of cattle and horses—rituals of extraordinary honor.

Later, they ascended the Kunlun Mountains, visited the Yellow Emperor's palace, and feasted with the Queen Mother of the West (described in the Classic of Mountains and Seas as a goddess with tiger's teeth and disheveled hair) at the Jade Pool. The Queen Mother sang the "White Clouds" song for King Mu, who responded with his "Eastern Return" poem, their melodies filled with melancholy. Finally arriving where the sun sets, King Mu sighed: "Though lacking in virtue (De), I've indulged in pleasures—surely later generations will censure my failings."

The passage particularly emphasizes that while King Mu could travel ten thousand miles in a day, climb Kunlun, and meet the Queen Mother at the Jade Pool, these feats weren't achieved through the cloud-riding magic of immortals, but merely through his excessive enthusiasm for pleasure-seeking. Through this narrative, the author critiques the dangerous pursuit of sensual indulgence at the expense of proper duties, presenting it as antithetical to the Daoist cultivation path.

This passage explores the philosophical concepts of "divine beings" (shenren) and "illusory transformation." Those who can wander beyond the Four Seas have approached divinity but are not yet true sages. They understand the joy of living in the present moment and recognize the impermanence of worldly affairs, thus living freely according to their will. Ordinary people assume they have ascended to immortal realms (dengxia), but in truth, they have simply seen through the nature of life and death.

The text mentions King Mu of Zhou (a descendant of the Yellow Emperor), who, after comprehending the principle of transformation, no longer concerned himself with state affairs. Instead, he traveled across kingdoms in a chariot drawn by eight magnificent steeds, roaming freely to places like Mount Kunlun and the Jasper Pool, covering thousands of miles in a single day—truly a marvel. Yet compared to genuine divine beings who ride clouds, command flying dragons, and traverse realms beyond the Four Seas, he was still far from true divinity, merely approaching it.

Lao Chengzi studied the art of illusory transformation (huanhua) under Master Yinwen for three years without progress. Later, Master Yinwen explained to him: When Laozi (Lao Dan) journeyed westward, he said that all life’s vital energy (qi) and the forms of all things are illusions. The workings of the Creator (referring to the laws of nature) are profound and subtle—the interplay of yin and yang gives rise to life and death, and the transformation of form is illusory change. Only those who truly understand that illusory transformation and the nature of life and death are one and the same are qualified to learn this art.

The key insight here is this: The Creator brings forth all things without leaving traces ("natural yet wondrous"). Forms arise according to the workings of nature and will likewise fade away with it. Because transformations that rely on concrete forms (illusory change) are more apparent, they suddenly appear and vanish just as abruptly. Things that change by relying on external forms shift along with those transformations, which is why they exist briefly before disappearing again.

You and I are both illusory existences—why bother deliberately studying illusionary arts? The human body is fundamentally illusory; if one still seeks to master illusory techniques, it becomes a cycle of illusion layered upon illusion.

Lu Zhongxuan (a Tang dynasty Daoist) explains that the human form and vital energy (Qi) are constantly transforming and renewing—how is this any different from illusionary arts? The natural transformations stirred by divine energy (Shen) are profound and unfathomable, while the illusions conjured by human-made magic are shallow and easily understood. People often fail to realize that what is difficult to comprehend is the great illusion, while what is easily seen through is merely a petty trick. If one understands that illusion and life-and-death are fundamentally the same, why would there be any need to specifically study illusionary arts?

Lao Chengzi (a legendary cultivator) returned and pondered Master Yin Wen’s (a Warring States Daoist figure) words repeatedly. After deep contemplation for three months, he became capable of freely manipulating life and death, overturning the laws of the seasons—making thunder roar in winter and ice form in summer, causing birds to run on the ground and beasts to fly in the sky. In truth, simply by focusing one’s thoughts for a time, one can grasp the principle behind this—how much more so for those who comprehend it effortlessly without deliberate pursuit?

Life inevitably follows the principles of heaven, and form inevitably arises from life. There has never been life that exists apart from heavenly principles, nor form that exists apart from life. Between life and form, form and heavenly principle, though refined and coarse differ, they transform into one another like host and guest, cycling endlessly without pause. Thus, the myriad things are ever-changing, sometimes gathering, sometimes dispersing. If one acts in accordance with the natural order, results will manifest spontaneously; if cultivation exceeds proper measure, aberrations will be exposed. Just as we now see seasons in disorder, stars displaced, winter thunder and summer ice—all these stem from violating the laws of nature.

Those who truly understand the mysteries of Yin-Yang and comprehend the patterns of all things can create the myriad beings as a potter shapes clay, achieving the same work as the Creator. As for those who grasp only superficial magic, relying on the mutual attraction of energies (Qi), conjuring illusions with a bow of the head or a lift of the gaze, transforming birds and beasts in the blink of an eye—they have merely mastered the shallowest of techniques. The most profound arts of the Dao (the Way) are never lightly revealed in a lifetime, which is why they rarely spread in the world.

The sage employs the great Dao (the Way) without leaving traces; the common people use it daily yet remain unaware. Only ordinary men delight in flaunting strange skills to startle the world. Lu Zhongxuan concludes: Only by mastering the root of divine energy (Shen) and penetrating the source of life and death can one transform endlessly without limitation. This must be realized through personal experience—it cannot be transmitted through words. For those capable of understanding the great Dao (the Way), guide them into its profound mysteries; for those incapable, proceed with caution and do not impart it lightly.

This scripture explores the relationship between life-death, illusion-transformation, and cosmic creation. The movement of Yin-Yang (the two fundamental opposing yet complementary forces in Daoism) and the cycle of four seasons determine the transformations of life and death in all things. All phenomena appear real yet are ultimately illusory—from birth to death, humans regard life as normal and death as abnormal, yet both are fundamentally manifestations of the creative transformations of Yin-Yang (the natural generative power of the cosmos).

The beginning of creation and the changes of Yin-Yang we call life and death. When one fully comprehends the principles of creation and the transformations of Yin-Yang, seeing through the changes of physical forms, one realizes these are all aspects of "transformation"; while attachment to specific forms constitutes "illusion." Heaven (representing natural law) creates all things through mysterious and unfathomable operations, whereas humans can only perceive superficial appearances—thus what they create is easily manifested and just as easily destroyed.

Life-death follows natural law, while illusion-transformation stems from human artifice. From the perspective of the Dao (the supreme truth in Daoism), none of these are eternally real. In truth, each of us is also an illusion, yet we still study illusory arts—like divining about dreams within a dream. The truly awakened understand that all phenomena have their coming and going, while the "true self" eternally abides.

To achieve thunder in winter or ice in summer—commanding Yin-Yang without being controlled by them; making birds walk and beasts fly—mastering all things without being constrained by them—such profound attainment means roaming with the Creator. Yet genuine adepts never display such abilities, for these belong to the mysterious arts that are unfathomable and beyond comprehension.

Those skilled in apprehending the way of illusion-transformation must establish awareness of "constant non-being" and "constant being" (the dialectical concepts of wu and you from the Daode Jing) to truly grasp its subtleties. Viewing all phenomena as illusions appears inverted yet reveals fundamental truth. From the Dao's perspective, the Qi (fundamental energy constituting all things) of all phenomena was predetermined in primordial chaos—life and death are merely different expressions of Yin-Yang transformations.

Those who cannot transcend the state prior to the generation of all things are bound by physical form and change along with external phenomena. Those who cannot suddenly transform their formless essence are limited by destiny through illusory manifestations. Hence they are called "transformations" or "illusions."

These two conditions: one originates from the Creator (referring to the Dao) and is naturally obtained, thus being profoundly subtle and difficult to fully comprehend; the other stems from dependence on form and cannot break free from external things, so its manifestations are obvious yet easily perishable. If viewed through the lens of the Dao, one realizes that illusions and life-death are fundamentally no different. Just as the wooden puppets made by the artificer Yanshi could mimic the Creator's marvels, understanding this principle reveals that your body does not truly belong to you—it too is merely an illusion.

To study illusions through illusions—how is this any different from having prophetic dreams within dreams? After comprehending Master Yinwen's words, the fictional cultivator Laochengzi contemplated deeply for three months. Though he did not reach the state of "attaining without thinking," he could freely control existence and dissolution, unbound by external phenomena. He could adjust the movement of the four seasons, unrestricted by fixed patterns; reverse thunderbolts and make ice flow backward, transform the forms of birds and beasts—yet never revealed these arts in his lifetime. How much more so for those who truly embody the Dao? They wield supreme power that operates alone, governing myriad transformations within the unfathomable. This is the mysterious state called "secret application and solitary transformation"—how could ordinary people ever truly understand it?

Liezi (a representative Daoist figure) said: Those skilled in applying the Dao of transformation have methods that are concealed and ordinary, their effects no different from common people's, serving only to aid the world and bring peace to the people. Thus their achievements remain hidden, undetectable to others. The virtue of the Five Emperors and the accomplishments of the Three Sovereigns may not have relied solely on wisdom and courage—perhaps they were achieved precisely through this subtle, imperceptible method. Who could fully fathom it?

The merits of emperors praised by the world are not the reason they became emperors. Whether through abdication or conquest, these were merely borrowed means. Since these could be borrowed, why not borrow the arts of transformation? It's just that sages apply them secretly without displaying astonishing methods. The era of the Five Emperors spoke of "virtue" (De), while the Three Sovereigns' era spoke of "achievement"—though their expressions differed, their fundamental intention was the same. Having demonstrated wisdom and courage yet not daring to become complacent, while achieving goals through subtle influence that remains unfathomable—this skillful state of transformation is precisely the supreme state that resonates with the movement of heaven and earth.

This passage explores the essence and function of the Dao (the Way), as well as the relationship between wakefulness and dreams.

Regarding the Dao: The true Dao appears hidden yet contains great utility. While its efficacy manifests in the human world, its foundation lies in the Dao's essential nature. The Dao is the root, while its functions are merely external manifestations. It remains profoundly concealed yet ever available, revealing itself through benevolence (De) without attachment to deliberate action (Wuwei). Such a Dao can accomplish imperial achievements even through the smallest dust particle, while worldly wisdom and heroic deeds are but temporal traces. The ancient sages remained profoundly hidden and calmly responded to all changes precisely because they had mastered this Dao. Thus, even spirits and deities cannot fathom its mysteries, let alone ordinary people.

Regarding wakefulness and dreams: Wakefulness has eight experiential signs, while dreams have six types. The "Eight Signs" are: 1. Past events 2. Actions 3. Gains 4. Losses 5. Sorrow 6. Joy 7. Life 8. Death—all these are the body's responses to external contact. The "Six Conditions" are: 1. Ordinary dreams (natural daily dreams) 2. Startling dreams (caused by fright) 3. Longing dreams (born from yearning) 4. Lucid dreams (semi-conscious states) 5. Joyful dreams (from happiness) 6. Fearful dreams (from terror)—all these are products of spiritual (Shen) activity.

The core idea of this text is to demonstrate that wakefulness and dreams are fundamentally indistinguishable. As revealed in the stories of King Mu of Zhou's spiritual journey and Laozi's study of illusions, upon deep investigation, all phenomena in the world are like wakefulness and dreams. This aligns with the perspective on wakefulness and dreams presented in Zhuangzi's "Discussion on Making All Things Equal." The eight experiential signs involve concrete affairs, gains and losses relate to external objects, sorrow and joy arise from within, while life and death belong to heavenly destiny—all these are the body's responses to external contact.

This scripture discusses the different states of human consciousness during wakefulness and dreaming, and how to understand the underlying principles behind these phenomena.

When awake, people exhibit eight observable manifestations: peaceful and serene dreams are called "zhengmeng" (proper dreams), frightening dreams are called "emeng" (nightmares), longing-induced dreams resemble Confucius dreaming of the Duke of Zhou, while dreams that leave lingering impressions after waking are like Hu Tu dreaming of Crown Prince Shensheng. There are also "ximeng" (joyful dreams) arising from happiness and "jumeng" (fearful dreams) caused by terror. These six types of dreams all result from the interaction between the spirit (Shen) and external phenomena, and can be used as omens for divination—hence they are called the "six signs."

Those who don't understand the origins of these perceptual changes become confused when encountering events, while those who comprehend their causes can face them with equanimity. All transformations in the world have their reasons—failure to investigate their roots leads to doubt. Those who truly grasp these principles remain unperturbed even when encountering the strangest phenomena.

Lu Zhongxuan (Tang dynasty Daoist) explains: Maintaining inner emptiness and stillness while turning one's gaze inward allows unimpeded communion with all things. Ordinary people only see the manifestations of change without understanding their fundamental causes. Just as with the Five Emperors and Three Kings (legendary sage rulers), people only know their wisdom and courage without realizing they accomplished their work through transformative influence.

The "eight manifestations" of wakefulness and "six signs" of dreaming represent the various traces of human experience. Gains/losses, sorrow/joy, and life/death are sensations produced by physical contact with external phenomena, while proper dreams, nightmares, longing dreams, impression dreams, joyful dreams and fearful dreams are visions generated through spiritual interaction. Though wakefulness and dreaming appear different, they are essentially manifestations of transformation. Understanding the constant principles behind the "eight manifestations and six signs" reveals the causes of change. By maintaining undisturbed spirit (Shen) and comprehending the principles of transformation, one remains unshaken by any omen.

Zhenghe Zhenren (Song dynasty Daoist) observes: During wakefulness we contact phenomena, hence verification through "eight evidences"; while sleep contains heavenly principles, hence divination through "six signs." Gains/losses refer to fluctuations of benefit, sorrow/joy stir the heart, life/death transforms the self—these eight can be verified through physical contact with phenomena. The six types—proper dreams, nightmares, longing dreams, impression dreams, joyful dreams and fearful dreams—are generated through spiritual interaction.

This passage explores the relationship between human mental activity and dreams, as well as the influence of Yin-Yang balance on the body.

When people sleep, the interaction of their Shen (spirit) and Hun (ethereal soul) gives rise to dreams, while during wakefulness, their physical form engages in activity—this mirrors the natural rhythm of day and night. Those who fail to perceive the underlying causes of these changes become confused when encountering events; whereas those who understand the patterns of transformation can discern their origins. The truly awakened, however, perceive life itself as a grand dream. Those who comprehend the Dao (the Way) of the alternation between day and night realize that all things are fundamentally one—how then can they distinguish between dreaming and wakefulness?

In the waking state, a person exhibits eight manifestations (the "eight signs"), which, though expressed through physical interaction with the external world, also appear in dreams. Dreams, in turn, have six indicators (the "six omens"), which, though rooted in mental activity, originate from waking experiences. Those who do not grasp the source of these transformations remain perplexed, while those who understand can penetrate the great matter of life and death, undisturbed by external changes.

The fluctuations of fullness and depletion in the human body resonate with Heaven and Earth and correspond to all things. The Yin and Yang Qi (vital energy) within the body connects with that of the cosmos, and the physical form coexists with the universe. Thus, fortune and misfortune are intrinsically linked to one's own condition:

When Yin Qi is excessive, one dreams of wading through deep waters and feels terror—this stems from imbalance, creating a drowning-like panic. When Yang Qi is excessive, one dreams of being consumed by great flames—this reflects the fierce nature of fire. When both Yin and Yang Qi are excessive, one dreams of life-and-death struggles, for Yin and Yang should harmonize; their conflict leads to mutual harm.

Overeating leads to dreams of giving, while hunger brings dreams of taking—this mirrors waking psychology. Those with a light, floating constitution dream of soaring, while those with a heavy, dense constitution dream of drowning. Sleeping with a belt as a pillow induces dreams of snakes, and hair caught by a flying bird prompts dreams of flight.

These dreams are natural reflections of one's physical and mental state. Understanding this principle reveals the root of transformation, freeing one from disturbance by external things.

This passage examines the principles behind dream formation and cultivation states. It posits that dreams emerge from the interaction of Yin-Yang energies (Yin-Yang) and transformations of spirit-energy (Shen-Qi). When Yin predominates, one dreams of fire; during illness, of eating and drinking; in sorrow, of song and dance; while weeping, of celebration—all phenomena arising from mutual resonance or extreme opposition between states, much like the six categories of dreams recorded in the Rites of Zhou.

Advanced practitioners (zhenren, "true humans") attain the state of "spirit condensation" (shen ning): when daytime brings no scattered thoughts, night brings no dreams. Ordinary people dreaming of becoming birds soaring through skies or fish swimming in waters merely demonstrate how spirit (Shen) follows external transformations. But those who have realized the Dao (zhenren) relinquish even waking self-awareness, naturally transcending dream disturbances.

The text cites Liezi and Zhuangzi's perspectives: dreaming occurs when spirit encounters phenomena (shen yu wei meng), while wakefulness involves physical engagement with the world (xing jie wei shi). Daytime mental activity influences nighttime dreams, yet achieving a state of concentrated spirit (shen ning) naturally eliminates distracting thoughts and dreams.

Ultimately, ordinary people often misunderstand dreams: considering multisensory experiences as "real" (jue) while dismissing solitary mental activity as "illusion" (meng). In truth, both waking and dreaming are manifestations of spiritual activity—obsessing over their distinction obstructs true realization. Genuine awakened beings (zhenren) don't even cling to the concept of "forgetting," naturally transcending the duality of dream and wakefulness. Through dream phenomena, this passage elucidates the Daoist cultivation essentials of "equalizing all things" (qi wu) and "forgetting self" (wang wo).

All things in heaven and earth are composed of the same primordial Qi (vital energy), thus the flourishing and decline of all beings resonate with celestial patterns and interact with myriad phenomena. When yin energy predominates in the human body, one dreams of great floods and experiences terror; when yang energy prevails, one dreams of raging fires and feels scorching heat. When both yin and yang energies are abundant and harmonious, one may dream of birth; when these energies are strong yet discordant, dreams of slaughter may arise.

Those with light, floating constitutions tend to dream of soaring through the air, while those with heavy, dense physiques often dream of drowning—this illustrates the principle of yin-yang fluctuation. Overeating leads to dreams of giving, while extreme hunger produces dreams of taking; excessive yin energy manifests as fire dreams, and impending illness brings dreams of eating—all these reflect the waxing and waning interplay of yin and yang. Sleeping with a belt tied around one's waist induces snake dreams, just as a bird clutching hair in its beak prompts dreams of flight—demonstrating resonance between like phenomena. The drunkard paradoxically grieves, while the reveler unexpectedly weeps—these represent inverted manifestations.

Daily experiences resurface in nocturnal dreams, proving that both spirit (Shen) and form embody the natural rhythms of yin-yang transformation. Those perfected beings who unite with the Dao (the Way)—practitioners who have attained the supreme state—transcend distinctions between waking and dreaming, reaching a realm where reality and illusion dissolve. Ordinary people generate dreams when their ethereal soul (Hun) and corporeal soul (Po) interact during sleep, then engage with worldly affairs upon waking—their daytime thoughts and nighttime visions merely reflect temporary encounters between form and spirit.

Only those with supremely concentrated spirit can penetrate the boundary between day and night, merging dream and wakefulness to achieve the state where self and object are forgotten. Like Zhuangzi who dreamed of being a butterfly, then awoke uncertain whether he was Zhuangzi dreaming of a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming of Zhuangzi—the true Daoist sage embodies yin's virtue (De) in stillness and yang's undulations in motion, completely unifying reality and illusion until no difference remains between waking and dreaming. Thus the authentic perfected being remains naturally transcendent while awake and dreamless in sleep. The legendary Yellow Emperor's dream-journey to Huaxu Country serves as this truth's allegorical expression.