《雲笈七籤》Vol. 10

The Dao means “Great Beginning,” the universe in its earliest state. Great Beginning is the starting point of the Dao. At the very beginning, it transformed into Jing-Qi, essence and vital energy.

When Jing-Qi appeared red and vigorous, it transformed into light, called the “Sun,” also known as the “Primordial Yang Master.” The red Jing-Qi transformed further and became the Dao Lord. Thus, the Dao’s original state is said to be concealed within “Great Simplicity.” This is the One.

“Great Simplicity” refers to a person’s original state. As the red Qi began to transform, it became yellow Qi, called “Central Harmony.” Central Harmony transformed further and became Lao Jun, as well as the Spirit Lord. Thus, the Yellow Spirit entered a person’s bones and flesh, forming the human body. The saying “a person’s original state is concealed within Great Inception” refers to the Two.

“Great Inception” is the beginning of Qi. Yellow Qi transformed further into white Qi. White Qi is the essence of water, called “Great Yin,” and it transformed further into the Great Harmony Lord. Since water arises from white Qi, this is called the beginning of Qi, or the “Three Qi.”

The three initial states contain one another: Qi envelops Shen, and Shen envelops Jing. Thus, white envelops yellow, and yellow envelops red; red, in turn, envelops the Three, and the Three envelop the One. When the Three and the One blend together, this is called “Chaos.” That is why Lao Jun said, “The One gives birth to the Two, the Two give birth to the Three, and the Three give birth to the ten thousand things.” He also said that Chaos is like an egg, describing this very state.

The human body takes as its foundation the containment of the “Three-One”—the three initial states and their unity. It is therefore also called the “Three Births,” the “Three Essences,” or the “Three Forms.” At the beginning of time, the body contained Shen; Shen could come into being only by receiving Qi. For the body to be stable and the breath harmonized, these three must sustain one another and come into being together.

When the Dao becomes the “Three-One,” this refers to emptiness, nonbeing, and void. Void is white, and white envelops nonbeing; nonbeing is yellow, and yellow envelops red; red is emptiness.

What is meant by “emptiness”? Emptiness is the subtle, luminous light: bright, yet without material form. It is like the sun, the moon, and a flame: their light can be seen, but it has no tangible body. That is why it is called “emptiness.”

What is meant by “nonbeing”? Nonbeing is Qi. Qi has an appearance and can be seen, yet it has no substance that can be touched. That is why it is called “nonbeing.”

What is meant by “void”? Before Heaven and Earth, mountains and rivers had appeared, looking in every direction revealed a vast, boundless expanse, without obstruction or limit. There was only clear, empty space; nothing could be seen or heard. The Dao naturally emerged from within it…

Life is like a musical instrument—a zither, a se, a drum, or a flute. It can produce sound because it is hollow inside.

Thus the sages wrote scriptures and precepts to teach worthy people in later generations to hold fast to the Great Dao, quiet the mind, close off the ears and eyes, and let no thoughts arise. If thoughts and worries fill the mind, one cannot attain the natural Dao. Why? Before the Dao transforms into the divine, it has no beginnings or signs, no thoughts or intentions, and no desires. It is calm and still, unmoving and undisturbed. Once it transforms into the divine, the divine gains radiance and can perceive many things. But as soon as thoughts and desires arise, they bring turmoil and damage one’s original true nature.

Some say that once a thought arises, one can no longer return to the Great Dao and enters the Five Paths, endlessly cycling through them. What are the Five Paths? In the first, the spirit ascends to heaven and becomes a celestial spirit. In the second, it enters a human body of flesh and bone and becomes a human spirit. In the third, it enters an animal and becomes an animal spirit. In the fourth, it enters a bili—a name for a hungry ghost. In the fifth, it enters nili—a name for hell. If the spirit has committed offenses, it will be examined and cast into nili. Each of the Five Paths has its own span of life.

Therefore, those worthy people who study the Dao should understand the principle of emptiness and naturalness. Those who hold fast to emptiness can attain the natural Dao, but they will not ascend to heaven. Instead, they remain in the world, appearing in different forms as they pass through life and death, and become teachers to the people. Those who guard the spirit can refine their bodies of flesh and bone, become perfected beings, take their place among the celestial officials, and ascend to heaven. This is called “intermediate naturalness.” Those who guard Qi (vital energy) can nourish the Yin-Yang Qi and grow feathers, attaining the way of the flying immortals. This is called “lesser naturalness.” From this we can see that spirits differ in breadth and scope, understanding in depth, and insight in greatness. Those who study the Dao should therefore recite the sages’ scriptures, seek out enlightened teachers, open their minds, and dispel ignorance.

The method of guarding the Dao is to study the various scriptures thoroughly, then reflect: my body and spirit both originally came from the Dao. The Dao is still and clear, acting through Wuwei (non-action); originally, it was nothing at all. Only later did it transform into the divine. Once there was radiance, thoughts and intentions arose, followed by various kinds of wisdom. Here, “wisdom” refers to the five desires and the six defilements. The five desires are these: when the ears crave sounds, they become deluded and blocked, unable to control themselves; when the eyes crave beautiful sights, they become indulgent and licentious, and the spirit grows frantic; when the nose craves fragrances, it dissipates the spirit; when the mouth craves flavors, it brings suffering and entangles one in a net; when love and aversion arise in the heart, they lead to partiality and deprive one of fairness and equanimity.

The five desires can confuse people and obscure the six senses. The six senses refer to bodily and sensory perceptions: when the body feels pain or itch, one wants soft and comfortable things; when the ears hear sounds, the heart feels delight; when the eyes see beauty, desire arises in the heart; when the nose smells fragrance, the mind pursues the scent; when the mouth tastes something, the heart feels pleasure; and when the body wears soft, comfortable clothes, one is likewise satisfied. People lose their original nature through these six senses, which is why this is also called “the six senses robbing people of their spirit.”

When a person’s spirit is drawn along by the six senses, it becomes confused, sinking into depravity, impurity, and darkness, unable to reach clarity. Thus, some people have a human form yet cannot discern things; their hearing and sight are dull, and their feelings and intentions are blocked. All this comes from the five desires and six senses confusing and disturbing them. As a result, people suffer and pass through the Five Paths—the five destinations of rebirth—circling repeatedly through birth and death without end.

Therefore, one should reflect carefully on this principle: the human spirit is originally pure and has none of these impure desires. If one keeps this in mind, the various desires will naturally cease. When desire ceases, impurity is exhausted; when impurity is exhausted, the heart and spirit become pure, enabling one to see the Dao clearly and unite with it. Then one can hear and see without being confined by direction, and undergo constant transformation.

If this principle is still unclear, listen to an analogy. A mirror maker first makes a mirror brilliantly bright. But after a buyer takes it home and fails to care for it, it gradually grows dull and can no longer reflect light and shadow. Later, the buyer asks a mirror maker to polish it with a cleaning compound, and the mirror becomes bright again, able to reflect a person’s form and shadow. The human spirit is the same: it originally comes from the Dao, and since the Dao is pure, the spirit is pure from the start. But people are confused by impure desires and fall into darkness. A darkened mirror can be polished with a cleaning compound; likewise, when desire obscures the human spirit, it should be cleansed with the teachings of the scriptures. Then the various desires can naturally cease, the heart and spirit can become pure again, and understanding can arise.

It is also like the surface of water just after rain: it is often muddy and cannot reflect images. If the water is collected in a vessel, it is still murky at first. After a long while, it gradually clears and can then reflect forms and shadows. When the human spirit is stirred by various desires, it is like this muddy water. If people can put an end to these impure desires, it is like allowing the water to clear. Once desire is cut off, the heart and spirit naturally become pure and bright; when they are bright, one can attain the Dao. Understand this fundamental principle, and the various desires will naturally cease. As for the other heterodox teachings…

Those who do not understand that desires are pure in their original nature often teach others to suppress them by force. But desires have no fixed form. They cannot be cut down, destroyed, or blocked as one might deal with something tangible, so that they never arise again. A person’s spirit, desires, and thoughts may arise at any moment. They cannot be seen, and are difficult to anticipate, prevent, or eradicate completely. They are not like plants that can be chopped apart, like light that can be covered, or like a spring that can be dammed.

A person’s spirit and desires, then, cannot be ended through forceful suppression. Those who cultivate the Dao should understand that, at their root, they are naturally pure and free of desire. Once this is understood, desires will subside on their own. Without understanding this root, one may strive to eliminate desire by force, but will never be able to eradicate it completely.

It is like trying to stop a tree from growing: you must dig out its roots. Once the roots are pulled up, the tree will not grow again. The ignorant do not understand this. They cut the trunk down to the ground, but leave the roots in place, and the tree grows back. If people do not understand the source of desire and try only to cut off its outward expression by force, they are like those who cut down only the trunk: desire will arise again.

Those outside the Way (here, people who depart from the method of cultivation described in this passage) do not understand that the human spirit is pure in its original nature. Instead, they shut themselves indoors and forcibly block their ears and eyes, thinking this will eliminate desire. They do not know that desire has its source in the mind, and that the mind is Shen (spirit). Shen has no form and comes and goes unpredictably; desire arises from thoughts and may appear at any moment. Because it is formless, it cannot be eliminated by force. One should understand that its root is naturally pure; then desire will subside on its own, and the mind will no longer give rise to such thoughts. Those who cultivate the Dao should consider this carefully. Without understanding it, they will only harm their own spirit in vain.

Once cultivators understand desire, they should go on to learn the methods of cultivating the Dao, De (Virtue/Power), the Jing (scripture or classic), and practice. The Dao is a road; a jing is a path; practice is the act of stepping forward; De is the merit accumulated through doing good; and a method is a way of attaining the Dao that one can cultivate, recite, and follow.

Those of De hold good intentions and put good deeds into practice. Practice is like walking along the right path, step by step, until one reaches the Great Way. The worthy follow the scriptures and methods of cultivation, reflect on and practice the Ten Good Deeds, and accumulate merit. Completing these good deeds is itself walking the path to attaining the Dao. It is like proceeding step by step along a road that has already been opened, until one finally reaches the Great Way.

If a person sits at home all day and never goes out, when will they find the path to the Dao? How can a wise person attain the Dao without studying the scriptures and methods or performing meritorious deeds? If a person cultivating the Dao only holds fast to “guarding the One” (keeping the spirit focused so it does not become scattered) and performs no meritorious deeds, they are like someone who stays inside the house and never comes or goes: of course, they cannot see the road. Even a foolish person who guards the Dao but performs no meritorious deeds cannot attain it.

Thus, the Old Lord (a Daoist honorific for Laozi) composed the Dao Jing and the De Jing, so that the loyal and faithful might honor and put them into practice. If guarding the Dao alone were enough to attain it, the sages would need only to give a single oral formula. Why, then, did they also write down all those scriptures?

The Dao requires three aspects to be fulfilled. Thus it is said that only when the three come together can De be achieved; with fewer than three, the undertaking cannot succeed. The “three” here are the Dao, De, and the person. The person comes first and should perform meritorious deeds; meritorious deeds are second; putting those deeds into practice leads to the Dao, which is third. Only when the Dao, De, and the person come together can one attain the Dao.

If someone performs meritorious deeds but does not understand the Dao, or understands the Dao but performs no meritorious deeds, they cannot attain the Dao. If there are only the Dao and De, but no person to put them into practice, they likewise cannot lead to its attainment.

This is like sowing seed: if you scatter it in the soil but give it no water, how can it sprout? Or like brewing wine: if you have the yeast and rice but no water, how can you make wine? Or like having a ruler and ministers but no people—what could they govern? Or like having fire and water but no food—how could anyone survive? Or like having a cart and horses but no one to guide them—how could they move forward on their own? These comparisons all show that an undertaking can succeed only when all three are present; the Dao, too, can be realized only when all three are present.

The Dao is spoken of in terms of “three”: the “Three Ones” are three; the “Three Sovereigns” are three; the “Three Spirits” are three; and the Great One, too, has three. The “Three Great Ones” are the Upper Great One, the Middle Great One, and the Lower Great One. Each of the Three Origins likewise contains three. These “threes within threes” add up to nine, giving the Nine Palaces, from one at the beginning to nine at the end.

Yang Qi begins to stir beneath the Yellow Springs at the winter solstice in the tenth month and reaches its end in the following sixth month. From the tenth month through the sixth month is nine months in all; then Yang Qi comes to an end, which is why the Yang number is nine. The calculations for Zi and Wu also use nine as their number. Those who cultivate the Dao should understand how these changes of “Nine and One” run through everything, from top to bottom and from beginning to end.

The human body is One, the spirit is Two, and Qi (the vital energy that sustains the body’s life processes) is Three. These three together form the “Three Ones”…

In cultivation, Shen (spirit) comes first, Qi (vital energy) second, and Jing (essence) third. Each of these three also contains three parts; together they return to “One,” and thus return once more to Shen. Heaven comes first, Earth second, and humanity third. These three, too, each contain three parts and ultimately return to “One,” thereby bringing forth Dao and De (the Way and Virtue) and becoming the foundation of Heaven and Earth.

The “Three Ones” spoken of here refers to emptiness as One. Within emptiness is the natural Dao, which thereby manifests and takes its place within the body. It is also called the Lord of the Dao, the Primordial Yang Elixir (the elixir of Primordial Yang in Daoist teaching), the Noble Person, or the Divine Person.

The “One” on the left of the “Three Ones” also represents Heaven, the Sun, the father, Yang, what is received, the teacher, and the soul; it governs a person’s affairs. The “One” on the right represents Earth, the Moon, the mother, Yin, and bodily form, and also governs the ghosts that control a person’s allotted life. It presides over evil and demons, leading people to do wicked things. Those who cultivate the Dao should understand the distinction between the Three Ones and discern good from evil, and the proper from the deviant. By becoming aware of this, they may attain the Dao.

Those who cultivate the Dao should understand that the Ones on the left and right each lead toward good or evil, while the One in the center sets oneself aright. The Shen within the body is the Dao’s offspring. The Ones on the left and right assist the self, each in a different way. The One on the left uses the forces of the Sun, Moon, and other things to admonish people to do good. As their merit and virtue grow, they follow the proper path. The One on the right, however, cannot uphold what is proper and instead turns against the right path. It cannot lead people toward goodness; rather, day after day it entices them to do evil, deepening their evil thoughts until they are ruled by a deviant path. Such people are in league with evil.

Even virtuous people who understand the principles but do not accumulate merit and virtue will still fall into a deviant path. They cannot escape the realm of evil and grow increasingly confused and benighted. They may become angry and speak recklessly, while evil essences and ghosts draw ever nearer. If practitioners do not understand the influence of these malign spirits and simply sit in meditation, closing their eyes and shutting their ears in an attempt to cut off desire, the evil ghosts will instead disturb their minds and spirits, causing deviant thoughts to arise one after another: as soon as one thought fades, another appears, and the cycle is hard to stop.

If one has accumulated merit and virtue, the One on the left can uphold the proper path during meditation, and evil influences cannot come to disturb them. This shows that those without merit who force themselves to sit in meditation and suppress desire will ultimately still be disturbed by deviant thoughts, and their desires will remain unsettled.

The Way of “naturalness” has three methods of cultivation. Those who can abide in the Great Void—the empty, still, and formless state—are people of profound learning and accumulated merit.

They understand the roots of the Great Dao and see deeply into what is subtle and mysterious. They comprehend the transformations of the Three Origins and Nine Ones, Daoist concepts concerning Heaven and Earth, Yin-Yang, and their changes. They also understand the mystery within mystery, and how all things begin in “nonbeing” and return to the limitless. They know where things begin and can see how they end.

People and all things between Heaven and Earth each have a form. Having form means undergoing success and failure, life and death. The spirit has no fixed form and passes through transformations without end. Thus, cultivators of the Dao remain in the world without becoming confused. They hear all kinds of worldly claims without being misled, and understand worldly affairs while discerning within them the principle of emptiness and naturalness. Their minds are calm and detached, free from sorrow and joy, and their desires cannot sway them. This is because they understand the root of things and are not misled by details. Though they have bodies like ordinary people, their wisdom has no limit. This is what is meant by “emptiness and nonbeing.” Such a state can also be understood through study; it is not something one naturally possesses from birth.

When quieting the mind and abiding by the Dao, one should eat sparingly and close the ears and eyes, gathering the light of Shen (spirit) back into the Crimson Palace, the inner chamber associated with the heart in Daoist teachings. Let go of all stray thoughts; do not force yourself to look at anything or deliberately engage in thought. In time, the breath will gradually become faint. After that, you will no longer notice your breathing. You will be peaceful and still, until you do not know whether you have a body or not. This is the gateway to entering the “Dao of stillness.”

The Dao is originally empty and still. At this point, Shen seems to arrive in the emptiness of Heaven. Looking left and right, one sees only pure whiteness, with nothing else in sight. Sometimes everything before the eyes appears white, like rain or snow: the trees are white, the mountains are white, the ground is white, and all things are veiled in white. Why does this happen? Because Shen has left the body and reached Heaven. Looking ahead, one can no longer see the sun, moon, stars, mountains, rivers, or seas. This state is a sign of returning to life’s source and reentering the Dao’s emptiness.

If you reach this state, you should look down and see the many affairs of the world. Then turn your mind and recall your teacher’s words: “Cultivate the Dao in order to save the world.” As soon as this thought arises, the whiteness before your eyes will disappear and darkness will return; Shen will also return to your body. If you do not do this, Shen will enter the Great Dao, your form will disperse, and you will become one with the Dao. The fleshly body left in the human world will then suddenly grow old.

Thus, Laozi says, “Know the white, keep to the black, and be a model for the world.” Seeing the white means seeing emptiness. Keeping to the darkness means turning your intention downward to look upon the beings who remain in the world. Because your thoughts are with the world, what lies before your eyes becomes dark again. This is called “keeping to the black and being a model for the world”: it means bringing Shen back into the body, so that you may remain in the human world for a long time and continue living as a person.

The scripture holds that what the “Dao Master” speaks of is the Dao of great, empty nothingness and nature. Those who practice the method of “abiding in the center and following nature” cannot understand where the myriad things of Heaven and Earth come from. They do not understand the source of the Dao or the reasons for its transformations, nor can they perceive what lies in emptiness. When they encounter things beyond their own experience, they feel doubt and alarm. Because they are far removed from the Dao, sitting alone cannot give rise to the Dao of nature; they can only follow their master’s teachings directly.

The master says that while guarding the spirit, one must also dispel desire and quiet the ears and eyes, so that spirit and Qi return to the Crimson Palace—the place where spirit and Qi are said to gather within the body—and direct one’s contemplation downward toward Mount Kunlun, the sacred mountain within the body in Daoist cultivation. At times, the master teaches practitioners to guide their consciousness upward to Mount Kunlun and visualize its scenes, first imagining the Central Yellow Lord of the Dao. With sustained contemplation, they can see him. Through continued practice, they can also see the many gods, converse with them, and hear them describe what happens in Heaven, leaving worldly thoughts behind. The marrow of the bones, the brain, and the blood and Qi within the body gradually transform, giving rise to the many gods and strengthening them. Together, the gods lift the practitioner up to Heaven, where the practitioner receives an appointed register and official rank and can never again descend to the human world. This is called the “Way of the Realized Person,” and is named “the natural way of central nothingness.”

To practice the “method of small, empty nothingness and nature,” one likewise dispels desire and quiets the ears and eyes, so that spirit and Qi return to the Crimson Palace, while directing contemplation downward toward Mount Kunlun. The practitioner harmonizes Heaven and Earth, the sun and moon, Yin-Yang, male and female, and the vital essences of the hun and po souls, using them to cultivate the Realized Person. When the Yin and Yang Qi within the body gather, the vital essence becomes full, and the bones grow moist and radiant, feathers emerge and the practitioner ascends by flight to the Five Sacred Mountains. Afterward, the practitioner may sometimes be ordered to travel through the human world, but cannot remain there for long. This is called “small, empty nothingness and nature.”

Below the ways of great, central, and small nothingness are the “methods of deliberate action,” which cannot reach the state of nothingness. These methods include calendrical arts, visualization, guiding and stretching exercises, bodily movements, regulating Qi, alchemical practices, compounding medicines, swallowing talismans, prostrations, wearing seals, observances and prohibitions, acting according to the waxing and waning of days and stars, performing Zhaijiao purification rituals and sacrifices, and using divine messengers to seek omens of good or ill fortune. The scripture holds that these methods cannot make a person understand what the Great Dao truly is. Yet some people become immortals through them, some prolong their lives, and others attain “corpse liberation”—a Daoist transformation into immortality in which one sheds the old form and leaves behind a body as evidence. What lies further below belongs to the path of ghosts and cannot bring everlasting life.

Those who attain the Dao of great, empty nothingness and nature are not subject to the celestial realms; they are governed only by the Lord of the Dao. They can disperse their forms and unite with the Dao. They can transform, with no fixed limits on sight or hearing, and act wherever they will. Those who wish to attain this Dao should put Daoist teachings into practice, accumulate merit, and follow the methods of the Dao.

In cultivating the scriptures and precepts, the heart should be impartial. Do not give in to greed or attachment, and do not distinguish between those close to you and those distant from you. Regard all things between Heaven and Earth with the same impartial heart. Do not take life. Why? Every kind of living thing, from flying insects to crawling creatures, is brought forth through the transformation of the Dao. The Great Void—the vast, formless emptiness—has no image to begin with. If someone who understands the Way still takes life, they harm the Great Dao. That is why taking life is forbidden.

As for those who keep to the Center naturally, what they preserve is the “Center Shen.” At times, they still take life. Why? Shen has an aspect of emptiness, but it also has a subtle form. It therefore eats, and may take life and make offerings. The Dao itself has no such subtle form, so it makes no offerings and takes no life.

Those who attain the Dao still hear and see only through human ears and eyes: they can hear sounds that have sound and see forms that have form, but they cannot hear or see what is formless and soundless. Why? Shen appears red. Red belongs to Yang, and Yang corresponds to the Li trigram. Li corresponds to the sun and also to the eyes. Thus people can see only what is in front of them, not what is behind them, and they cannot see the sun above their heads. The Celestial Eye can illuminate only what is within Heaven, not what lies beyond it, nor what is concealed or dark.

Thus, those who attain the Shen Dao and ascend to Heaven still rely only on Celestial Ears. The ears and eyes of the Dao are different: they hear and see without distinction between front and back, and without obstruction or darkness. They can clearly see the countless things beneath Heaven, hear soundless sounds, and see formless forms. Those who cultivate the immortal Dao must deliberately use their Celestial Ears and Celestial Eyes to hear and see, if they are to perceive anything. Without making deliberate use of them, they can see only what is before them. Why? Because immortals have left behind their human bodies of flesh and bone.

Know how Shen forms an image: Shen appears red and is, in itself, only light. It uses light to create an illusory image, like a reflection in a mirror or in water, which has no real substance. Shen’s domain of governance is usually in Heaven. As a life-ruling deity, it has a lifespan measured in kalpas and cannot remain in the human world forever. When its lifespan in Heaven comes to an end, it re-enters the Five Paths—the five destinations of transmigration—and is born again, undergoing life and death as before. Sometimes, when its lifespan is exhausted, it takes the Dao and becomes an immortal, and then it disappears.

A Perfected Person, by contrast, has a body and an image, belongs to the heavenly realm, and serves as a celestial official. Their lifespan is measured in tens of thousands of years. While governing affairs in Heaven, they may occasionally be sent to the human world on official business. When their heavenly lifespan ends, some are promoted to become divine beings. They then no longer re-enter the Five Paths to be born, nor undergo life and death again.

By holding fast to the Great Void and attaining the natural Dao, one can keep the body dwelling in Heaven. The lifespan is measured in thousands of kalpas…

When the allotted years of life come to an end, the body perishes as it undergoes change, and the spirit is exhausted. The spirit then enters the Five Paths—the five destinations of beings in the cycle of rebirth—and is born anew in a body.

Life and death remain as before. Even the gods of heaven have not truly escaped life and death; they only pass from one of the Five Paths to another. Only signs and portents can let a wise spirit know what is coming in advance. The spirit is like fire: once the fire goes out, it no longer exists. So why should those who seek the Dao concern themselves with whether the spirit will be extinguished? These are questions that arise among practitioners because they do not understand the foundations of the Dao.

The foundation of the Dao is empty stillness. If you focus on holding to “emptiness,” you become attached to emptiness and ultimately bring yourself to extinction. Those who guard the spirit do not understand that the Dao is empty and still by nature. They believe only in “existence” and not in “nonexistence.” To cling to the spirit is to cling to “existence”; clinging to existence prevents one from returning to the Dao. Why? The spirit passes through the Five Paths, never reaching an end.

Only those skilled in using analogies and able to awaken to understanding can be said to have truly accomplished something. They understand that the foundation of the Dao is empty and still. They cling neither to “existence” nor to “nonexistence,” neither to “reality” nor to “emptiness.” They travel throughout the Three Realms—the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm—with compassion in their hearts, wishing to save those who suffer. For this reason, they refuse to enter empty stillness and seek the Dao alone. It is precisely this that gives them merit and virtue, and in the end they naturally unite with the Dao: their life span is no longer limited, they no longer enter the life and death of the Five Paths, and they are never extinguished. After long practice and the fulfillment of their merit and virtue, they can continually take their place as Dao Lords.

The worthy who cultivate the Dao should carefully grasp this principle and understand the differences in level it entails. If those who study the Dao understand only a few minor points, think they have studied deeply and learned enough, and refuse to ask further or investigate profound teachings, then they do not understand the Dao. People reach different levels, some deep and some shallow, and the subtleties they attain also differ. To hear of the Dao of the immortals and then claim to have attained the Dao is wrong.

For the worthy, studying the Dao is like climbing a mountain. Once they reach a certain point, they look down and feel they stand alone at the summit. But when they continue climbing to the mountain peak, they discover that there are still higher places ahead. The same is true of studying the Dao. One studies with a lesser teacher and reaches a certain level, then encounters an intermediate teacher. Only after meeting a great teacher does one understand the source of the Dao. This shows that those who study the Dao must not assume they have learned enough. They should strive to seek a wise teacher and devote themselves to cultivating the Dao. If someone asks, “Why don’t you seek the Great Dao? Why stop at a lesser Dao?” it is because they remain in a dim and limited understanding.

If the worthy study the Dao without hearing widely, observing deeply, and seeking out many teachers, their learning cannot be called sufficient. If the sun and moon do not rise high, their light cannot reach far; if rivers and seas are not broad, they cannot contain all things. Those who study are like fish in a pond...

If someone reaches a place where a pond is enclosed on every side, they may think they have seen all the waters in the world. The fish in the pond mate and converse day and night, yet know nothing of the lakes, rivers, and oceans beyond it, nor that those waters are boundless and vast enough to drown a person. Consider, for example, an ignorant man in the deep mountains who has never traveled beyond them from birth to old age. With so little experience, how could he know the learning of the wider human world, its ranks and social order, the splendor of its carriages, horses, and clothing, or the fragrance of its spices?

Likewise, a reader of the scriptures may have heard only that the nine provinces of the world all acknowledge one Son of Heaven, and that on the four frontiers there are only the Yi and Di—ancient names for distant peoples. He may then believe that the world ends there. How could he know what lies beyond? Learning the Dao is similar. One receives the Dao by following a master and thinks one’s learning is complete. Yet how can one know that the realms reached through further study and practice of the Dao are not beyond anything books can record?

Those who pursue the Way of the Immortals—the path to long life and becoming an immortal—often think they have learned enough and are certain they will become flying immortals and ascend to heaven. Only when they truly reach that state do they realize they still fall short of the perfected person. Those who study the Way of the perfected person likewise think they have learned enough and are certain they will become perfected persons. Only when they truly become so do they realize they still fall short of the divine person. Those who study the Way of the divine person also think they have learned enough and are certain they will become divine persons. Only when they truly become so do they realize they still fall short of the Great Dao. Even among those who have learned the Great Dao, there are higher and lower levels, for their understanding is not the same. Thus learning has no end. If even the divine beings of the world continue their studies and practice, how much more should later learners follow their masters in learning the Dao? As for inner cultivation, dispelling the outward display of Shen, and the arts of transformation, each has its own governing principles, methods of entry, and attained realms.

In cultivating the Way of Great Emptiness and Nonbeing—the realm of void stillness and formlessness—one should reach a state without form or sound, and keep one’s mind free of thoughts of favors, intentions, knowledge, and desire. One should also abide by the teachings in one’s practice. In learning the Dao, one must not become attached to visions, dreams, or omens. Even if one sometimes sees a divine being, one should not speak with it. Why? Because at times an evil spirit may come to test the practitioner. The teaching here concerns seeking the Dao without form or image, following things as they are; it does not mean seeking an audience with divine beings. Only by abandoning lesser pursuits and seeking what is fundamental can one reach the state of naturalness.

Thus the Old Lord said, “Have light, but do not dazzle.” This means nourishing one’s own light until it is clear and penetrating, without letting it blaze like lightning. Nor should one be content merely to meet a particular divine being. If one remains at this level, one cannot see all the affairs of the world.