《玄真子(外篇)》

Book of the Mysterious Perfected, Outer Chapters (Upper Scroll, combined with Middle and Lower Scrolls)

Section 8

Written by Zhang Zhihe, the Mysterious Perfected of the Tang Dynasty

This passage describes the wondrous vision of the "Azure Void" (a Daoist term for the boundless emptiness of the cosmos): The Azure Void is vast and limitless. The celestial wheel turns within the abyss of Qian-Heaven (the heavenly realm), while the earth floats and sinks within Kun-Earth (the earthly realm). Crimson light encircles the celestial paths—when the Well constellation (one of the Twenty-Eight Mansions) ascends, it brings heat; when the Dipper constellation descends, it brings cold. The four seasons cycle thus, and all things transform accordingly. Though this is but a secondary manifestation of Creation, is it not also the very source of Creation itself?

The Boundless Debater (a wise elder of infinite knowledge) once said: The sovereign of the Yellow Suburbs is called Zhibei, the sovereign of the Purple Tenuity Heaven is called Shenzun, and the sovereign of the Azure Void is called Linghuang. Zhibei governs the earth, where mountains, rivers, plants, and trees all submit to his rule; Shenzun governs the heavens, where the sun, moon, and stars all submit to his rule; Linghuang governs the void, where wind, thunder, clouds, and rain all submit to his rule.

One spring, Zhibei ascended to the heavens, and Shenzun descended to the earth, meeting within Linghuang's domain. The sovereign Linghuang vacated his throne to welcome them, sparing no effort in hospitality: piled meats transformed into radiant clouds, poured wine became sweet rain, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, winds sang and clouds danced. Linghuang played host for a long time, yet neither above nor below held any resentment. Moved by Linghuang's profound virtue, the two sovereigns felt ashamed for disturbing the peace of the Azure Void and both wished to yield their domains to him.

Shenzun said, "I possess the heavens," and Zhibei said, "I possess the earth." Linghuang found the names "heaven" and "earth" strange and asked, "When I look up, I see no difference from the Azure Void; when I look down, I see no difference from the Azure Void. What else exists within the Azure Void? What do your heavens and earth look like?"

Zhibei replied: "My earth is vast in form and dense in substance, nurturing all things. High at the center and low at the edges, it resembles an altar. The Eight Extremes (the farthest reaches of the eight directions) converge, and the Nine Mountains encircle the seas. Rocks are its bones, plants its hair, soil its flesh, springs its blood, dew its sweat, and mist its breath. Rivers flow fiercely, and humans and beasts come and go."

Shenzun said: "My heavenly vault is like a canopy, where the Five Planets align and the constellations shine brilliantly. The sun and moon are its ornaments, the Milky Way its sash, parting the clouds and mists. Within the rosy clouds are palaces of immortals and divine halls—I hope you may ascend to dwell there."

Linghuang remained skeptical: "If the heavens are like a canopy, what hangs above it? If the earth is like an altar, how is it anchored below?" Shenzun explained: "The heavenly canopy is not hung from above but is borne by the Drifting Wheels (a Daoist term for the mysterious force that moves heaven and earth). It usually rotates leftward, carrying the Three Lights (sun, moon, and stars)..."

This passage recounts the profound dialogue between two immortals (Zhibei and Linghuang) about the mysteries of cosmic creation, followed by Hongxiazi's inquiry to Bixuzi regarding the origin of nature. Here's the interpretation in modern terms:

When Zhibei journeyed westward, he pointed to the earth, indicating the presence of deep pools (qiupan) where vapor condensed and floated above—a dwelling place for divine spirits. Linghuang asked about the nature of these floating wheels (piaolun) and deep pools. Zhibei explained that the floating wheels pervade the lower realms, while the deep pools serve as resting places for the Celestial Emperor—why should this be puzzling?

Linghuang sighed in response: "The forms of Heaven and Earth are indeed as you describe, for such is the nature of Creation (zaohua, the power that generates all things). My consciousness is boundless, merging with emptiness, without distinction of inner and outer, east or west. This vast space contains the radiance of sun and moon, the resonance of thunder, the hues of rainbows, and the forms of dragons and phoenixes. Whether sitting or reclining, I wander freely within it—a realm transcending the cycles of seasons and the flow of time. It existed before Heaven and Earth took form and will endure after their dissolution. How then could I abandon my eternal existence to attach myself to your transient, physical form?"

Hearing this, the two Celestial Emperors (likely referring to Zhibei and others) withdrew and returned to their abodes. Later, Zhibei descended upon the yellow wilderness, while the Divine Sovereign ascended to the Purple Tenuity Palace (Ziwei, the celestial abode of the Heavenly Emperor). For months thereafter, Heaven and Earth remained closed and impassable.

Subsequently, Hongxiazi sought guidance from Bixuzi: "What forms do the beginnings of Creation and the origin of nature take? I wish to journey through your realm to observe them." After deep contemplation, Bixuzi sang the "Song of Emptiness" (Kongdong zhi ge) from the heights of the Supreme Void (Taixu, the highest celestial realm): "That which exists without cause is true nature; that which transforms without deliberate creation is the source of zaohua. It is vast and sincere, its form perfectly round. Only by relinquishing sight and thought can you perceive it."

Hongxiazi requested: "Allow me to wander freely through your words." Bixuzi then instructed: "Nature without origin is called 'the Mysterious' (xuanran); creation without action is called 'True Transformation' (zhenhua). The true mystery is the mystery beyond mystery; true nature is the truth beyond truth. Do not cling to concepts of 'nature' or 'transformation.' Only by attaining unity can you truly observe nature and creation."

(Note: The term "zhen" (朕) was used by ancient rulers as a self-reference, here denoting Linghuang's self-awareness; "Ziwei" refers to the Purple Tenuity Enclosure, regarded in Daoism as the dwelling of the Celestial Emperor; "Tailiao" denotes the supremely vast and distant realm of emptiness.)

The Xuanzhenzi (Outer Chapters) scripture explores the philosophical relationship between "Non-being" (Wu) and "Being" (You), as well as the principles underlying the generation of all things. The essential meaning is as follows:

The most fundamental "Non-being" is the origin of "Being," while "Being" is the initial state of "Non-being." When "Non-being" gives rise to "Being," and "Being" establishes "Non-being," the creative transformations of heaven, earth, and the myriad things operate within this dynamic. The mechanism of this creative process works through: space (emptiness) enabling universal presence, wind enabling movement and flow, water enabling condensation and form, consciousness enabling perception, and Qi (vital energy) enabling interconnection—thus all things become complete.

Specifically:

• Space provides universal presence, allowing things to have form.
• Wind enables movement, allowing things to function.
• Water condenses into form, allowing things to be observed.
• Consciousness generates perception, allowing thoughts to arise.
• Qi interconnects, allowing meaning to be established.

Therefore:

• Space is the foundation of existence.
• Wind manifests functional activity.
• Water serves as the medium for observing change.
• Consciousness is the means to comprehend change.
• Qi is the basis for grasping natural laws.

Though the fluctuations of wind and water make all things distinct, and the diversity of consciousness gives rise to infinite meanings, they all originate from the same source. This source operates in heaven (Qian) eternally, is sustained by earth (Kun) enduringly, functions without exhaustion, creates without constraint, transforms without limit, and has roots of unfathomable depth. Investigating this source reveals that the beginning of creation resides in the "Great Origin" (Taichu, the primordial state of the cosmos), ultimate truth resides in "Non-being," natural essence resides in "Void-Non-being," and constancy resides in "Mystic Contemplation" (subtle observation of the profound).

Later, the text describes an ascetic named Master Hongxia, who understood the true principle of creation and did not cling to material appearances. He absorbed the essences of the sun and moon (the light of crimson yang and the qi of azure vastness) to nourish himself, severed worldly engagements, and wandered freely in communion with the Great Void (the cosmic origin). When worldly people pitied him for his austere life, Master Hongxia replied: "Though I am not understood by the world, I am a confidant of creation; though I cannot fully comprehend creation, creation fully comprehends me."

This passage embodies core Daoist ideas about cosmogony and the spiritual attainments of practitioners, emphasizing the realization of the Dao through contemplating the relationship between "Non-being" and "Being."

This scripture recounts a dialogue between a cultivator named Hongxiazi (Red Dawn Master) and the Creator (Zaohua, the Transformative Principle of Nature):

Hongxiazi felt no shame before heaven, earth, or the Creator—rather, he believed the Creator owed him. Determined to settle this grievance and dispel his anxiety, he mounted his crimson solar steed and rode eastward in a jade-green chariot across the azure void.

His first stop was the "Land of Absolute Nothingness," where he encountered Tongkong (Emptiness Deity) requesting passage. When asked whom he intended to accuse, Hongxiazi declared it was the Creator. Tongkong refused: "Here we create only through 'non-being'—no path can be lent." Forced to turn southward, he reached the "Domain of Spontaneity" and met Huayuan (Source of Transformation), who warned that the Creator was his kin—to accuse Zaohua meant making an enemy.

Journeying westward to the "Realm of Non-Abiding," he confronted Yinben (Root of Existence), who demanded his flying chariot and void-illuminating jade as toll. Refusing, Hongxiazi traveled north until arriving at the "Wilderness of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)." There, Shengshou (Origin of Life) admonished him: "The Creator can be known but not approached, heard but not befriended. Your accusations will prove futile." These words left Hongxiazi bewildered, paralyzed with hesitation.

Through Hongxiazi's futile quest, the text conveys Daoist wisdom regarding Zaohua (cosmic creation): its mysteries transcend human judgment, demanding reverence rather than confrontation. Terms like "crimson solar [energy]" (hongyang), "jade void" (biliao), and Taiji reflect distinctive Daoist cosmology, illustrating a seeker's journey toward ultimate truth.

This passage recounts the mystical encounter of a Daoist practitioner named "Hongxiazi" during his exploration of cosmic origins. While riding his carriage through the ethereal "Outskirts of the Mystic Plain," he loses his way and meets two young Daoist attendants who introduce themselves as "Spirit" (Shen) and "Change."

Hongxiazi describes himself as one who comprehends the workings of Creation (the laws of the universe) yet remains unaccepted by it. He has journeyed extensively in search of the true Dao: eastward to the "Realms of Nothingness" (the void), southward to "Naturalness" (the way of spontaneity), westward to the "Land of Non-Abiding" (the state of non-attachment), and northward to the "Supreme Ultimate" (Taiji, the cosmic origin), yet encountered obstacles everywhere. Just as he loses his way, he fortuitously meets the two attendants.

The young attendants explain: they are shepherds of the Great Dao in the "Mystic Outskirts" on behalf of Creation, but lost the Dao while playing the "Game of Six Obstructions" (possibly an alchemical metaphor). Now they bathe in repentance within the Mystic Plain. They warn Hongxiazi that approaching the Lord of Creation with worldly views will invite reprimand.

Finally, they invite Hongxiazi to bathe together in the Mystic River, drifting with its currents. As they ride the wondrous waves, they suddenly arrive at the "Realm of Creation." There, "Naturalness" presents him with garments of constancy, while the "Supreme Ultimate" offers food of infinity. Filled with the essence of Creation, Hongxiazi ultimately comprehends the Great Dao alongside the two attendants.

Through this fantastical journey, the text allegorizes a practitioner's quest for cosmic truth: one must relinquish worldly preconceptions, follow the natural course of the Dao, endure various trials, and ultimately realize the marvels of Creation. Key Daoist philosophical concepts like "Creation," "Supreme Ultimate" (Taiji), and "Naturalness" are central to this metaphysical narrative.

This scripture recounts the encounter between Master Hongxia (a Daoist practitioner) and Zaohua (the primordial creative force of the cosmos):

Having absorbed the essence of heaven and earth, Master Hongxia went to pay homage to Zaohua. Witnessing the illusory nature of worldly splendor, he feared only Zaohua's reproach. Zaohua sent two attendants to instruct him: "The Dao neither vanishes nor persists eternally, yet abides perpetually in the supreme realm." Delighted, Zaohua declared: "Those who embrace 'non-being' (wu) never lose 'non-being'; those who embrace 'being' (you) never lose 'being'—this is the profound mystery of the Dao." Thereupon, Master Hongxia grasped the method of spiritual cultivation.

Clad thereafter in garments of natural simplicity and holding the principle of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) in his heart, Master Hongxia conversed with Zaohua before preparing to depart. On his return journey, he met Taixu (the primordial void), who inquired about his experience visiting Zaohua. Master Hongxia replied: "I beheld Zaohua's countenance directly, comprehended Zaohua's intention, listened to Zaohua's words, and understood the essence of the supreme Dao. The true Dao is neither 'being' nor 'non-being'—through 'being' one perceives 'non-being,' through 'non-being' one perceives 'being.'"

The scripture concludes with the "Hymn of Tailiao": Profound indeed is Zaohua! Limpid is the azure sky! Radiant is the crimson glow! Unfathomably deep! Only those who understand all forms share one essence though appearances differ, and all human minds share one origin though thoughts vary, may roam the realm of Taixu and truly comprehend Zaohua's infinite mystery.

(Note: "Zaohua" refers to the primordial force that creates and transforms all things; "Taixu" denotes the most primordial void state of the cosmos; "Taiji" represents the undifferentiated state before the division of Yin-Yang—all are essential Daoist concepts.)

The Outer Chapters of the Mysterious Truth Master (Xuanzhenzi Waipian) presents a fanciful debate between two mythical beasts. The Luanlu clan arrives from the east, while the Suanni clan comes from the western regions, meeting in the central plains to engage in a futile contest of vocal prowess.

The Luanlu cries out: "I have heard all manner of breath sounds (xu, xi, he, xu, etc.), all types of eating noises (shi, chuo, cui, etc.), and every form of observation (ni, bian, mian, etc.)—these represent the pinnacle of sensory experience."

The Suanni roars in response: "I have witnessed the movements of sun, moon and stars, the undulations of mountains and rivers, the surging of ocean waves, and the appearances of various ghosts and spirits (ba, chi, mei, etc.)—these are the ultimate manifestations of cosmic phenomena."

The Chinese Sage (the author's self-reference) sighs in reflection: From the perspective of immediate bodily sensations, the Luanlu speaks truth; from the viewpoint of universal phenomena, the Suanni is correct. Yet both have strayed from the silent cultivation of the Dao (the Way), exhausting their Shen (spirit) in vocal contention. Though their eyes flash like lightning and their tongues rumble like thunder, they can only frighten birds and beasts in deep valleys—how could such clamor spread the great Dao across the ocean?

The subsequent dialogue between Taillao ("Vast Emptiness") and Wubian ("Boundless") explores cosmic relativity:

Taillao asks: "Within the transformations of creation, all phenomena differ. Can you speak of the extremes of great and small, being and non-being?"

Wubian replies: "From my perspective, the smallest is actually largest, the greatest is actually smallest; what seems empty actually exists, what appears substantial is actually void. Do you understand?"

Taillao responds: "I've heard that the smallest cannot become large, the greatest cannot become small, emptiness cannot become substance, being cannot become non-being..."

Through this mythological allegory, the text expresses Daoist criticism of debate and reflection on relativity, suggesting that silent cultivation surpasses verbal contention, and that all distinctions of size and existence are ultimately relative.

This scripture primarily explores the profound characteristics of "emptiness" and the Dao (the Way), along with the contest of natural forces between heaven and earth.

First, it discusses the nature of "emptiness" and the Dao: In the world, nothing is smaller yet greater than the void, and nothing is more insubstantial yet more substantial than the Dao. Why is this so? Because the void can encompass all of heaven and earth, extending beyond the realm of form—is this not the ultimate manifestation of its greatness? Yet the void can also penetrate the tiniest particles of dust—is this not the ultimate manifestation of its minuteness? That which cannot be found even after traversing heaven and earth—is this not the most insubstantial aspect of the Dao? And yet all things depend on it—is this not the most substantial aspect of the Dao? Thus it is said: The smallest can become the greatest, and the greatest can become the smallest; the most insubstantial can become the most substantial, and the most substantial can become the most insubstantial.

Next, it describes the struggle for supremacy among nine primordial natural forces at the dawn of creation:

The Wind Spirit declares: "When I blow, I can summon hurricanes, howling and swirling, stirring the primal Qi (vital energy), lifting boulders and uprooting trees, churning waves and surging tides—who can rival my might?"

The Cloud Qi proclaims: "When I rise into the sky, I can gather and scatter unpredictably, forming dense layers that blot out the sun, shrouding mountains and seas—who can rival my might?"

The Thunder God roars: "My thunderous voice rolls like chariot wheels, my lightning splits the heavens like crashing waves or the roar of a beast—how can feeble sounds compare to me?"

The Ocean Tide bellows: "I surge and churn..." Through this personification, the passage vividly portrays the majestic power of natural forces, subtly alluding to the miraculous creative power of the Dao in nurturing all things.

This passage depicts the grand contest of cosmic forces in heaven and earth, ultimately revealing the supreme transcendence of the Dao (the Way). In modern terms:

First, it portrays the magnificent spectacle of various natural forces:

• Like the boundless ocean's vast expanse (limitless watery horizons), with its surging, roaring waves (turbulent and mighty)
• Like the sound of the Kunpeng (legendary giant fish and bird) spreading its wings, the earthshaking scenes of giant turtles rolling and whales colliding
• Like scorching wildfires (blazing flames) with dazzling brilliance that can dry up lakes and char mountains
• Like the sun's radiance (solar brilliance), so dazzling it can melt metal and liquefy stone
• Like the earth's tremors (seismic rumbling), with collapsing peaks and endlessly surging rivers
• Like the heavens' thunderous roar (celestial reverberations), the lofty firmament containing wind and water, enveloping the earth
• Like the void's immensity (empty vastness), boundless and infinite, nurturing yin-yang

Then it describes these forces competing to prove which is mightiest (each claiming "Can any surpass my greatness?"), all declaring themselves supreme. At this moment, the Void (emptiness) reminds them: "I've heard the supreme Dao (the Way) is truly the greatest—you should inquire of the Dao."

Thus all natural forces grow silent:

• Clouds cease flowing
• Winds stop blowing
• The sun withdraws its radiance
• The sea calms its waves
• The earth stills its tremors
• Flames extinguish
• The heavens mute their thunder
• The void returns to stillness

Finally, even thunder (lightning's burst) enters the realm of the Dao. Through this comparison of natural phenomena, the text illustrates how the Dao transcends all manifest forces as the universe's most fundamental principle.

Sound yields to echo, form yields to shadow. There is neither "being" nor "non-being," neither movement nor stillness. From the grand perspective, all things return to their origin out of self-effacing humility. This mutual deference creates the state of Wuwei (non-action), collectively forming the realm of Wuwei, persisting thus until the end of earthly kalpas.

The form of Dao is emptiness, its shadow is void, its sound is the primordial echo. Like the ancient state: vast emptiness is "kong" (空), utter extinction is "mie" (灭), eternal beginning is "yuan" (远), and constant stillness is "ding" (定). Expressed in characters: "Yi" (遗, forgetting), "Xia" (遐, distant), "Ming" (明, bright), "Mo" (默, silent), "Que" (慤, sincere), "Bo" (博, expansive), "Xuan" (玄, mysterious), "Yuan" (圆, complete). These signify: forgetting erases faults, distance transcends limits, brightness illuminates darkness, silence settles tranquility, sincerity fortifies the heart, expansiveness broadens the mind, mystery spiritualizes profundity, and completeness perfects harmony.

What is called "De" (Virtue/Power) is "attainment," yet true attainment is "non-attainment," for it is in "non-attainment" that one truly "attains." Confucius (Wenxuan) cultivated virtue without self, Laozi (Laoshi) cultivated virtue with childlike purity, Zhuangzi (Nanhua) cultivated virtue by communing with the spirit of heaven and earth without arrogance toward all things. Liezi (Chongxu) cultivated virtue by riding the wind with ethereal grace, while Yan Hui cultivated virtue by merging with the great Dao. The supreme De has neither beginning nor end.

The more I contemplate, the more unfathomable this principle becomes—how could I ever fully comprehend the essence of all things? The glowing insect illuminates its belly, the hiding insect makes its body a chest, the burdened insect carries dust on its back, the root-dwelling cicada clings to soil, and the eye's starlight dazzles vision. The glowing insect crawls along walls, the hiding insect slips through crevices, the burdened insect wanders the dusty world, the root-dwelling insect sinks into earth.

The hiding insect mocks the glowing one: "You claim skill in nurturing life, lighting your belly to see through darkness, discerning dangers and choices. But all people share this flaw of flaunting brightness—trapped by external things, they lose themselves. My art of concealment is superior." The burdened insect then mocks the hider: "You claim skill in nurturing life, making your body a chest, advancing with head exposed, retreating in fearful stillness. But this in-and-out hesitation, like a rat's, traps you in external things. My art of bearing burdens is freer." The root-dwelling cicada next laughs...

This passage presents a dialogue between three characters—Fugou, Genchan, and Xuanhua—discussing different approaches to nurturing life. Here is the modern interpretation:

Fugou begins: "You claim to have mastered the most steadfast way of nurturing life, growing tenaciously like weeds. You move as naturally as dirt, living unaffected by external things. Yet you still worry about being startled by wind and fire—my 'Way of Burial' (referring to reclusive methods of withdrawing from the world) is far more thorough."

Genchan responds: "You boast of your life-nurturing methods—keeping your mouth closed, eyes hidden, emptying the heart and filling the belly (Daoist cultivation terms referring to breath regulation and mental focus), rooted like plants drawing nourishment from earth and water without moving, growing under sun and rain, free from disturbances by birds and beasts. But your body remains a burden. If harmed by digging, you'd blame external forces for injuring you—my 'Way of Ephemeral Insight' (transcendent detachment) is superior."

Genchan then praises himself: "I embody the mysteries of creation, comprehending ancient and modern wisdom. Those who focus on closing mouths, hiding eyes, emptying hearts and filling bellies—none match me in preserving life."

Xuanhua joins the conversation: "I am born from the dazzlement of eyes, nurtured by visual chaos. Slow as connected starlight, fast as scattered petals. Claim I exist, yet you cannot grasp me; say I'm nothing, yet here I am. Arriving suddenly within creation, departing quietly to return to the Great Void (cosmic origin). Only those who wander in the realm of nothingness can witness my carefree domain."

Finally, they discuss the Way of Circle and Square: "The most circular has no circle yet forms squares; the most square has no square yet forms circles. Seeing squares within circles is called 'Supreme Circle'; seeing circles within squares is called 'Supreme Square.' Supreme Square says: 'I once recognized your circle, but you failed to understand my square.' Supreme Circle replies: 'I originally harmonized your square, yet you couldn't grasp my circle.' The truth is: using compasses to draw the void, the void knows not its roundness; applying rulers to measure heaven, heaven knows not its squareness. Only by letting the spirit roam the realm of the Great Void, rendering compass and ruler obsolete, can one attain true Supreme Circle and Supreme Square."

Through metaphorical dialogue, this passage explores how cultivators should transcend physical constraints to achieve a state of perfect, unobstructed harmony.

The Outer Chapters of Xuanzhenzi records a marvelous legend: In the Eastern Sea there lived a gigantic bird called the Pelican (a mythical creature second in size only to the great Peng bird), which soared over the vast ocean, capable of swallowing whales whole. When sated, it would ascend into the azure skies. Then appeared a hunter named Fangfeng Xiao (an ancient divine archer), who crafted an enormous bow. Spotting the Pelican in flight, he drew his bow and shot it down with a single arrow.

The stricken Pelican let out a heaven-shaking roar, its blood raining down like a downpour while its feathers blotted out the sunlight. Its colossal body crashed onto the wilderness below, shaking the earth with such force that heaven and earth trembled in response. Fangfeng Xiao and his men circled the fallen bird for ten full days of observation before climbing onto its back to survey the four seas, discovering its frame could eclipse the very land beneath them.

Thereupon, Fangfeng Xiao summoned cooks from across the realm, erecting cloud-ladders to butcher the giant avian. As chefs gathered from all regions, the steam from boiling the Pelican formed rosy clouds, exhausting entire mountains of firewood. The salting of its meat alone took seven years, making cured meats unnecessary across the Central Plains for that duration; the rendering of its fat required nine years, leaving frontier regions supplied with oil for nearly a decade. Its feathers were fashioned into seaworthy vessels scattered across the ocean, known as "Pelican-feather Boats."

Awed by his divine bow's power, Fangfeng Xiao would offer sacrifices to it during ritual purification fasts. Marvel-seekers from across the land flocked to witness this spectacle. Such formidable archery had never been seen since the separation of heaven and earth!

(This passage employs hyperbolic imagery to illustrate the Daoist principle of "reversal at the extreme" - even the mightiest Pelican ultimately yields to greater forces, subtly embodying nature's perpetual cycles of mutual generation and conquest.)

Interpretation of "The Spirit of Waves" from Xuanzhenzi's Outer Chapters:

This work by Tang Dynasty Daoist Zhang Wanghe depicts a dialogue between the River God (Jiang Xu) and the River Goddess (He Gu) during their encounter in the Plain of True Origin.

The River God asks the Goddess: "Though you are water, I observe you hang suspended without dispersing, glowing at night—unlike ordinary rivers. How is this possible?" The Goddess replies: "People call me divine, hence these manifestations, though I know not why. Have you not heard how I enable celestial boats to sail the Milky Way, keeping the Cowherd and Weaver Maid eternally separated by my waters?"

The Goddess counters: "Though you are flowing water, I see you advance and retreat with measured rhythm, as if possessing spiritual intelligence. How so?" The River God responds: "Men say I embody spiritual power, yet I understand not the reason. Have you not witnessed my thunderous surges, my flights like flocks of egrets, my thousand-army charge across the plains?"

At this moment, Supreme Mystery (personification of the Dao) appears and rebukes them: "You merely borrow the mouth of Wu Xian [ancient shaman] to spread your fame, appearing in Spring and Autumn Annals records. Deceiving mortals without shame, stealing credit from Creation's work—do you fear no mockery from confused souls beneath the Yellow Springs?"

Trembling, the two deities inquire: "We mistook you for a friend of serene Wuwei (non-action), never expecting you'd expose our delusions. They say the Dao preceded heaven and earth, known in the Plain of True Origin as 'Supreme Mystery'—could this be you?"

Supreme Mystery answers: "To comprehend celestial patterns, observe the veins in jade or the glow in fireflies' bellies. Though vast, the Milky Way differs in essence from earthly rivers—what deities could exist there?"

(Note: Through mythological dialogue, this passage expounds the Daoist principle of "the Dao follows natural law," rejecting artificial deification while emphasizing direct observation of natural phenomena to perceive essential truths.)

The Outer Chapters of Xuanzhenzi expounds profound truths about natural phenomena and the state of Daoist cultivation:

To comprehend the principle of ocean tides, observe the rhythmic ebb and flow of blood vessels or the cyclical opening and closing of locust leaves—these are manifestations of Qi (vital energy) resonating in harmony. Why rely on the divine power of the River God (He Bo)? Though the tides surge fiercely, they are not beyond understanding.

To grasp my teaching, one must realize: though emptiness is formless, it endures eternally; though valleys are insentient, they echo in response. This is the ultimate state of tranquil stillness—why laboriously pursue the subtle? The profundity of the Dao (the Way) cannot be fathomed by intellect alone.

On Mount Kunlun dwell "wisdom-worms" (a metaphor for beings clinging to intellectual knowledge). They demand visible proof, falsely attributing their insights to the divine powers of River Maidens (He Gu) and River Spirits (Jiang Xu), claiming to penetrate the mysteries. Yet phenomena in the Great Void—tides surging up rivers to form waves, stars composing the Milky Way, flashes in clouds becoming lightning, mist refracting sunlight into rainbows, the stirring of Yang Qi producing thunder—as well as the transcendence of mind to realize the Dao—all follow natural patterns, not divine intervention.

In the end, the River Maiden and River Spirit dance side by side in repentance, admitting they were misled by the "wisdom-worms." They vow to abide in a state of no-mind, preferring to return to the land of True Origin in death rather than deceive the world by invoking spirits again.

The closing dialogue among three cultivators clarifies: Tongzhen Bo asserts that the Dao transcends distinctions of being and non-being, just as the sun, moon, and stars each occupy their rightful place. To judge size by distance or assess proximity by temperature is to miss the mark. Guanzhi Jun and Zuowang Hou explore perspectives of "perceiving being" and "knowing non-being," yet the Dao encompasses both without fixation on either.

This scripture conveys two key teachings: one concerning the principles of observation and cognition, the other about the art of painting ghosts.

The first part employs a metaphor: A hundred-foot bamboo pole appears small when viewed from afar but large when seen up close, yet the pole itself remains unchanged—only the perspective differs. Similarly, people's understanding of the Dao manifests as distinctions between "being" and "non-being," with the crux lying in whether one clings to fixed views. Those truly awakened realize that seemingly contradictory states—light and darkness, far and near—are ultimately one. Only by transcending such attachments can one comprehend the supreme Dao.

The second part recounts the story of Haosheng, a master painter renowned for depicting ghosts. His brushwork flowed like the wind—first sketching limbs, then completing entire figures—with each composition emerging as a seamless whole. For sixty years, no artist could replicate his skill. When the Daoist adept Xuanzhenzi inquired about his secret, Haosheng explained it wasn't mere technique but mastery of the Dao: through nightly meditation, he would clear his mind of distractions until reaching a state of self-forgetfulness (wangguan). In this clarity of spirit (cheng shen zhan lü), myriad ghostly forms would spontaneously arise in his consciousness, allowing his brush to capture their infinite variations. This reveals an artistic creative state achieved through Daoist cultivation.

(Note: "Xuanzhenzi" represents a Daoist sage; "Haosheng" is a fictional painter. "Wangguan" refers to observation beyond subjective attachments, while "cheng shen zhan lü" denotes the Daoist meditative practice of purifying spirit and calming thoughts.)

The Xuanzhenzi (Outer Chapters) passage recounts the insights of a master painter specializing in depictions of spirits (the progenitor of ghost painting) and conveys Daoist understandings of life, death, and natural harmony:

For sixty years, this painter devoted himself to mastering the art of portraying deities and spirits, yet never taught his techniques to others. He explained that painting these numinous beings resembled natural phenomena like reflections in water, the spinning of fire wheels, or rainbows after a storm—apparently substantial yet ultimately elusive. The true profundity lies in comprehending the Dao behind all things: just as raindrops merge into the ocean returning to oneness, the mind dissolves into emptiness to unite with heaven and earth.

The text employs celestial movements as metaphors for the cycle of life and death: when the moon obscures the sun during an eclipse, sunlight eventually returns undiminished; similarly, though death succeeds life, life will always be reborn. Those who attain the Dao (the perfected ones) understand that birth and death alternate like sun and moon, never allowing such transformations to disturb their spirit. As an eclipse cannot harm the celestial bodies themselves, so too does life's transience leave the enlightened sage's spiritual realm untouched.

Finally, natural phenomena illustrate the Dao's characteristics: water droplets form perfect spheres without compasses, fire wheels spin continuously without external force, rainbows curve through light's refraction, and wine sways with waves through shared Qi resonance. All demonstrate how the myriad things follow the Dao's spontaneous movement.

This scripture explores the dialectical relationship between "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu), as well as the profound states of "stillness" (ji) and "silence" (mo).

First, it addresses the relationship between "being" and "non-being": Existing things are not absolute "non-being," nor is "non-being" something that never existed. True "being" does not cling to the appearance of "being," and true "non-being" does not cling to the concept of "non-being." This is the highest state of understanding "being" and "non-being." When present "being" suddenly becomes "non-being," it does not mean it never existed in the past; when present "non-being" suddenly manifests as "being," it does not mean it has always existed. Such transformations arise from the flow of time.

Next, it illustrates this through a dialogue between light and shadow: The shadow asks the light why it sometimes brightens and dims, appears and disappears. The light replies that the shadow has no fixed form—its existence entirely depends on the angle of illumination and the shape of objects. The light also acknowledges its own subjection to natural laws, such as converging when encountering concave mirrors or refracting through prisms. This dialogue demonstrates how all things are interdependent and mutually conditioned.

Finally, it discusses the profound principle of "stillness" and "silence": "One stillness" gives rise to "one silence," and "two stillness" gives rise to "two silence." The true "One" is neither pure stillness nor pure silence; the true "Two" also cannot be separated from the essence of the "One." Only by realizing that stillness is not singular and silence is not dual can one comprehend the "True One" (zhen yi). The "True One" transcends all dualistic concepts—being and non-being, one and two, stillness and silence—even surpassing the very notion of "non-being." This is the genuine state of "True Non-being" (zhen wu).

Through this layered dialectical progression, the scripture reveals the core Daoist cultivation philosophy of transcending dualities and realizing the fundamental truth.

This scripture discusses how practitioners must attain the state of "True Nothingness" (zhenwu) to perceive the original form of "True Oneness" (zhenyi). Here, "True Nothingness" refers to the absolute void state transcending all existence, while "True Oneness" represents the essence of the Dao (the Way).

Two practitioners named "Stillness" (Ji) and "Silence" (Mo) engage in dialogue about this supreme state. Stillness says: "That realm which transcends all existence cannot be named by ordinary people. I reluctantly call it the 'Cosmos of Supreme Nothingness' (taiwu zhi huan) — the boundless absolute void." Silence expresses his willingness to listen to this explanation.

Thereupon, Stillness straightens his posture, regulates his breathing, and enters meditative stillness. After prolonged silence, both attain the state where self and objects are forgotten. Silence realizes: "I had only heard of this name before, but now I truly experience the realm of nothingness." Stillness praises Silence for comprehending these subtle principles.

Finally, since Silence has already realized this state, Stillness ceases further discussion on the topic. This dialogue exemplifies the Daoist cultivation practice of achieving unity with the Dao through seated meditation, as well as the master-disciple transmission method of "mind-to-mind instruction."