《雲笈七籤》Vol. 90

When Shen (spirit) is calm, the heart is peaceful; when the heart is peaceful, the body can be preserved intact. When the spirit is restless, the heart sways; when the heart sways, the body is harmed. To preserve the body, one must first regulate the spirit. Therefore, when the mind is tranquil and peaceful, the spirit naturally settles within; when the heart is clear, quiet, empty, and bright, it will not be seduced by external things.

The seven apertures of a person—the sensory openings such as the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth—are the doors through which the spirit enters and exits; the will and Qi (vital energy) are like envoys of the five viscera, observing and conveying the body’s conditions. When the ears and eyes are drawn by sounds and colors, the nose and mouth crave fragrances and fine foods, and the body seeks comfort and ease, if all these desires develop according to instinct, the spirit will run about in all directions and be unable to remain secure; when the will and Qi are pulled by various interests, the five viscera also become disturbed and uneasy. Desires ceaselessly surge in from outside, while the heart is blocked by distracting thoughts; to indulge in unrestrained pleasure and linger in the realm of disputes over right and wrong—those who can still avoid harming their De (Virtue/Power) and injuring their life are probably very few.

Humans receive the Qi of Heaven and Earth and are born, and necessarily have emotion and original nature. When original nature is stirred, emotion arises; when emotion is satisfied, desire takes form. Emotion comes from original nature, yet may oppose original nature; desire arises from emotion, yet may harm emotion. Emotion injuring original nature and original nature obstructing emotion are like smoke and ice each restraining fire and water: smoke is produced by fire, yet obscures the fire’s force; ice is formed by water, yet blocks the flow of water. Thus when there is little smoke, the fire burns brightly; when the ice melts, the water flows freely. When original nature is upright, emotion will diminish; when emotion is excessive, original nature will be extinguished.

The wise reduce emotion in order to dispel entanglements; they restrain desire in order to guard original nature. In food and drink they seek only enough to relieve hunger and nourish the body; in clothing they seek only to cover the body and ward off cold. They do not let gorgeous outward appearance confuse original nature, nor let sorrow and joy disturb the spirit. Dwelling securely in contentment and establishing themselves in a place of harmlessness—this is the way to preserve original nature.

If the sea clam is not opened, its bright pearl will not appear; if the bamboo of Mount Kun is not cut and made into a flute, its phoenix-like sound will not be emitted. If emotion and original nature are not tempered, spiritual wisdom will not manifest. This is like metal and wood: water is stored within metal, fire within wood; therefore refining metal can make water Qi appear, and drilling wood can produce fire. If a person is diligent in learning and tempers original nature as one drills wood and refines metal, then talent and wisdom will emerge.

The bamboo of Wu is firm and tough, but if arrow feathers are not attached, the arrow will not be sufficiently refined; the swords of Yue are originally sharp, but if they are not quenched and ground…

Although human nature possesses intelligence, one cannot achieve anything without accumulated learning; to have no exposure to learning is like the mind losing its hearing and sight, so that it no longer knows what is near and what is far. One should seek instruction from an enlightened teacher in order to remove the obscurations imposed on the mind and nature.

Yi Qiu was the best chess player in the whole country. Once, while he was concentrating on a game, someone happened to pass by playing the sheng, a reed pipe. He was distracted and listened, and so lost the game. This was not because his skill at chess suddenly worsened, but because his mind was momentarily confused and disturbed by the sound of the sheng. Li Shou was the best calculator in the world. When wild geese flew past, he drew his bow to shoot them; just as the arrow was about to be released, someone asked him how to reckon “three and five,” and he unexpectedly could not answer. This was not because “three and five” was hard to calculate, but because his intention was momentarily confused and disturbed by the wild geese. Yi Qiu’s skill at chess and Li Shou’s skill at calculation were both subtle and profound, and originally without error; the reason they lost the game and could not go on calculating was that their minds were not concentrated and had turned to attend to outside matters.

The blind have no eyes, so they cannot rely on their ears to discern things belonging to sight; they can only concentrate on listening. The turtle has no ears, so it cannot rely on its eyes to hear sounds; it can only concentrate on looking. Although the blind person and the turtle have limited capacities, they can hear clearly and see plainly precisely because their minds are focused on one thing.

A person who does good cannot for a moment depart from good conduct; what can be easily cast aside does not count as good. People need good conduct as the head needs a hat and the feet need shoes. To go without a hat on the head is contrary to constant principle; to walk without shoes on the feet is contrary to human propriety. If someone nowadays cultivates goodness in conspicuous places before others but does evil in secret, it is like putting on a hat and shoes in the early morning and then going naked and barefoot at night.

Qu Yuan, a minister of Wei in the Spring and Autumn period, did not change his conduct merely because no one saw him at night; Yan Hui did not alter his bearing merely because he bathed at night. Goujian, when confined in a stone chamber, still did not abandon the rites between ruler and minister; Ji Que, while plowing in the fields, still did not diminish the respect between husband and wife. These men were cautious in hidden and subtle matters and at ease in good conduct; even when others could not see them, they did not change their minds, and even when others could not hear them, they did not alter their disposition. Therefore, when alone in a room, they were as if guests were present; when placed in an empty room, they were as if someone were accompanying them.

Nothing done in secret is truly hidden and never revealed; nothing done in confusion and darkness remains concealed forever. If one cultivates conduct only in the open but acts without restraint in secret, thinking that others do not know, then even if others do not know, ghosts and spirits will know. Once ghosts and spirits already know, yet one still claims that no one knows, this is as foolish as covering one’s own ears while stealing a bell.

If a person constantly dwells in goodness, then inwardly there is no anxiety and outwardly there is no fear; standing alone, one is not ashamed before one’s own shadow; sleeping alone, one is not ashamed before the quilt that covers one. Such a person can above resonate with the divine intelligences and below make oneself secure…

The virtue of the human world can resonate with the dark and unseen realms (the underworld and the spirits), causing auspicious blessings and omens to arrive in succession.

Benevolence is attached to the human heart more firmly than metal or stone. Metal and stone may yet melt away, but benevolence does not depart. This is like when King Tai of Zhou moved to Mount Qi, the people of Bin still followed him.

Water is by nature supposed to be cold, yet Huayang has hot springs; so when we say water is cold by nature, we mean most water. Fire is by nature supposed to be hot, yet Xiaoqiu has cold flames; so when we say fire is hot by nature, we likewise mean most fire. A fierce wind stirs up waves, their crests and troughs interlacing and joining; yet viewed as a whole, the water’s surface remains roughly level. This is speaking in general terms.

The wise establish laws and regulations, while the foolish are constrained by them; the worthy reform the rites, while the unworthy cling to the old rites. One cannot discuss with a person who clings to rites the decisive formulation of institutions; nor can one discuss with a person who merely rigidly upholds laws the principles of governance. To transmit the laws of one age to people a hundred generations later is like using a single garment to cope with changes of cold and heat, or one medicine to cure all diseases. To take the rites of a single era as the standard by which to criticize the customs of generation after generation is like notching the boat to find a sword that has fallen into the water, or waiting by a stump for a hare.

Therefore, enacting laws is the means on which governance relies, but governance cannot be achieved by laws alone; observing rites is the norm on which moral transformation relies, but moral transformation cannot be completed by rites alone. The key to moral transformation lies in according with the times; the root of governance lies in adapting to the conditions of the world. No one can govern the world well without attending to changes of the age, and no one can complete moral transformation without adjusting to circumstances.

Words are used to express principles; principles are the root of words. Names are used to designate things; things are the source of names. If principles exist but words do not, principles cannot be clarified; if things exist but names do not, things are difficult to distinguish. Principles are made manifest through words, but words themselves are not identical with principles; things are distinguished through names, but names themselves are not identical with things. Therefore the wise discuss words in order to seek principles, neither losing the principles nor clinging to words; they check things against names, neither neglecting the things nor rigidly adhering to names. In this way they comprehend both words and principles and make names and things correspond appropriately.

The refined and numinous Qi (vital energy) is called Shen (spirit); the Qi at rest is called gui (ghost); restless and disturbed Qi is called chongzhi (insects and worms); mixed Qi is called qinshou (birds and beasts); perverse and treacherous Qi is called Jing (essence). When perverse Qi is turbid, it causes people to be ignorant, dull-witted, stubborn, fierce, and cruel; a firm and strong Qi endowment causes people to be lofty, stern, upright, robust, and powerful; a gentle and soft Qi endowment causes people to be benevolent and sincere. Thus the noble person manifests upright Qi, while the petty person manifests perverse Qi.

The essentials of all good conduct are to follow the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power), practicing filial piety, compassion, and purposeful action; the essentials of all evil conduct are to violate the Dao and De, being violent and rebellious, injuring and killing. As for good deeds performed under compulsion, they are like ...

Blessings naturally follow good deeds, and this is easy to understand; as for those who persist in doing evil, Heaven also sends down misfortune, and this is likewise a natural principle.

Do not think that because a good deed is small, doing it brings no blessing; nor think that because an evil deed is small, doing it brings no misfortune. Small good is like a nine-tiered terrace built up basket by basket of earth, or a thousand-li journey beginning with the first step beneath one’s feet. Doing one good deed and gradually accumulating to ten thousand good deeds, each brings its corresponding blessing. When the merit and virtue of ten thousand good deeds are complete, one can become the Great Emperor of the Nine Heavens, a high deity in Daoism.

Small evils are likewise so: accumulated bit by bit, they grow from small to great and from hidden and subtle to manifest. Committing one evil deed and gradually accumulating to ten thousand evil deeds, each invites its corresponding misfortune. When the karmic retribution of ten thousand evils is complete, one becomes a prisoner of Bili—Bili refers to suffering ghostly beings; here it means being imprisoned in hell and long unable to be released.

The form is constituted by the aggregation of Qi; if Qi is insufficient, the form weakens. Shen is transformed from Jing; if Jing is insufficient, the spirit becomes dispirited. The form is the bodily frame upon which human existence depends, and humans are the most spiritually aware among the ten thousand things; Shen pertains to life and is the greatest virtue of Heaven and Earth. The most spiritually aware life is the foremost of the ten thousand things, and the great virtue of Heaven and Earth is the root of the ten thousand things. The ten thousand things regard growth and nurture as primary, while Heaven and Earth devote themselves to clarity and stillness. Therefore the noble person maintains the form and cherishes the spirit, respects the self and values life; all this should follow nature and abide in ease, neither overexerting the form nor arbitrarily commanding the spirit.

The form is the vessel of life; Shen is the root of life. Without Shen, the form cannot exist on its own; without form, Shen cannot accomplish itself alone. Form and Shen nourish and complete each other; only when the two are harmonized can life endure. The form is the dwelling of Shen and also its master: when the master is calm, Shen remains; when the master is restless, Shen departs. Without form, Shen is hard to stabilize alone; without Shen, the form is hard to sustain alone. When form and Shen are intimate with each other, inner and outer can mutually complete one another.

People often only know to maintain the form and do not know to maintain Shen; they only know to cherish the self and do not know to cherish the spirit. They fail to realize that the form is like a carriage bearing Shen. When Shen departs, the person dies; when the carriage breaks, the horse bolts. This is the ultimate natural principle.

If one can maintain the body and cherish the spirit, one will naturally accord with Supreme Truth; by removing greed and attachment and diminishing restlessness, one will naturally accord with the Great Dao. However, some people have abundant Shen-Qi but an insufficient form, while others have an abundant form but insufficient Shen-Qi. Those with abundant Shen-Qi are precious….

Having surplus is in itself something valuable in a person. For example, when jade is hidden in stone, the mountain appears radiant; when pearls are contained in water, the river appears beautiful. From this we know that when the form contains Shen (spirit), the form possesses spiritual efficacy; when Shen possesses spiritual efficacy, it can reach the realm of sagely clarity.

Therefore, sages such as Fuxi, Nüwa, Shennong, and the Xia sovereign—some with snake bodies and human faces, some with ox heads and tiger feet—though their forms did not resemble those of ordinary people, possessed the virtue of great sages.

The pure and refined Qi of Yin-Yang condenses and nurtures, forming the myriad things; the myriad things thereby take shape and are born, each having its own nature and emotion. What is called nature (xing) belongs to Yang; what is called emotion (qing) belongs to Yin. Nature is still; emotion is moving. Nature differs in dullness and intelligence; emotion inclines toward profit and greed. Nature manifests as benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness; emotion manifests as joy, anger, sorrow, fear, liking, dislike, and desire.

Quietness, tranquility, serenity, and peace are human nature; receiving favor, attachment, and aversion belong to human emotion. Ordinary people can neither treasure their nature nor moderate their emotions. They do not understand that confused thinking and impatient contention injure nature, while grief, sorrow, separation, and worry injure emotion. Therefore the sage says: Accord with things, and things will also accord with you; oppose things, and things will in turn oppose you. Not violating the inherent nature and emotion of things is precisely following the natural Dao (the Way).

If aversion is properly regulated, love will not cause one to become inappropriately intimate; if joy and anger in one’s nature are harmonized, resentment will not easily offend others. Joy and anger disturb the Qi; cravings and desires injure one’s nature. Human nature is originally similar, but through acquired habits it becomes very different. Just as water is originally clear but mud and silt make it turbid, human nature is originally peaceful but desires harm it. Desire and nature conflict with each other and cannot flourish at the same time: when one grows, the other declines. Therefore the sage reduces desires so that nature may extend.

People of the same nature readily become friends; people whose emotions resonate readily complete one another. Merely catering to emotion harms Shen; single-mindedly pursuing worthiness and ability may also trap one’s nature. As for those who lack a certain capacity, naturally they will not pursue it. Only the sage can be free from these entanglements.

The Dao of life and death is vast and broad; how a person’s life unfolds still depends on the person. Yet life and death are constant principles and truly have their heavenly mandate. As long as one receives and follows nature, then with regard to the Dao of life and death there is no fixed verdict of what is absolutely permissible or absolutely impermissible.

Some die before they are born; some, having died, come back to life. In some cases one ought not to live yet lives; in others one ought not to die yet dies. Some who could have died did not die; some who could have lived did not survive. Sometimes living is worse than never having been born; sometimes the more one clings to life, the more one invites death. To enter a situation that leads to death may instead bring survival; to enter a situation that leads to survival may instead lead to death. Sometimes, in order to seek wisdom, one cannot rashly go to one’s death; sometimes, compelled by circumstances, one cannot...

Some say that life makes me toil because I repeatedly pursue life and greedily love external things; yet life is precious and should not be disliked.

Some say that death gives me rest because I repeatedly pursue death and detest external things; yet death is not precious and should not be loved. Ordinary people do not fail to cherish life; they simply cannot preserve it. They do not fail to detest death; they simply cannot stay far from it.

Among plants and trees there are unusual kinds that grow with an outer skin like a shell; among birds and beasts there are docile kinds that die according to a fixed rhythm. Grass covered in winter does not die; grain piled in granaries does not grow. Newly watered seedlings often die last; trees damaged by insects instead die first. Oviparous animals have light bodies and clear Qi and grow early; viviparous animals have heavy bodies and turbid Qi and grow late. The growth of grass begins with the flower spike; the growth of a tree begins with the heartwood. When plants and trees die, the flower spike and heartwood disappear together. Birds are born from Heaven, beasts from Earth; when birds and beasts die, they all return to Heaven and Earth.

In the clear sky there are midges, mosquitoes, and gnats; they are born because of rain and die when they see the sun. On rotten soil grow fungi and lingzhi; they grow in the morning and die at night. From this it can be known that life is the root of death, and death is also the root of life.

The Heavenly Dao benefits the myriad things but does not harm them; the sage acts and does things but does not contend with others. Therefore, those who contend in accord with the times flourish; those who contend with others perish. Thus, even when possessing armor and weapons, there is no place to use them, because the sage does not contend.

Inauspicious matters are what people do not wish to strive for; filth and humiliation are what people do not wish to bear. To be able to bear what others will not bear is enough for self-sufficiency; to be able to attain what others will not strive for is enough for peace.

What governs life and death is Heaven; what follows nature and destiny is man. If something is not contrary to the Heavenly Dao, do not kill it; if something is not contrary to the human Dao, do not launch a punitive expedition against it. Therefore, when the royal law determines that one should be put to death but does not kill, this is to let loose a calamity sent by Heaven; when it determines that one should live but does not let the person live, this is to kill Heavenly De. If governance can be like this, it can bring enduring peace to later generations.

The noble person establishes himself with “Mysterious De” (xuan De, a profound and unmanifest virtue) as father, with Shenming as mother, with purity and quietude as teacher, and with Great Harmony (a state of peaceful attunement) as friend. He is like a tiger and like a dragon, ending together with Heaven and Earth; deep and silent, he communicates with the Dao to the utmost. He does not act when it is not timely; he does not speak when it is not harmonious. He turns difficult matters into easy ones, governs from the root, and eliminates problems before they appear.

Those who do good naturally receive the reward brought by good deeds; those who do evil naturally receive punishment. Therefore, for one who does not contend, there is nothing he cannot overcome; for one who does not speak, there is nothing he cannot respond to.

To exalt contention, value military force, run rampant by means of power, and let one’s fame overshadow the world, while injuring and casting aside loyalty and trust… (the original text ends here)

It is recorded that those who defy common principle, treat good people as enemies, ghosts and spirits as foes, and evil people as friends, while indulging in flavors and hoarding treasures, will invite disaster and ultimately move toward danger and ruin. Thus, even if their reputation rises above the blue clouds, their bodies may already be sunk beneath the Yellow Springs.

To grasp the essentials of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) is to hold the key to life and death, survival and ruin. Handle affairs through Wuwei (non-action), and take Wuwei as your teacher; let the mind be still, as if utterly empty. Attain Wuwei, and you can calmly discern the beginnings of safety and danger, and understand the principle of advancing and retreating, choosing and letting go. Only thus can you preserve yourself, avoid danger and fault, and never fall into peril.

The mouth and tongue are where disasters gather and where danger and ruin arise. Speech is bound up with a person’s life, and also with punishment and calamity. Once words leave the mouth, disaster may follow; improper speech can even bring the calamity of losing one’s life. Therefore the sage is cautious when opening the mouth, and still fearful after speaking, always as careful as one standing in danger or treading on thin ice. They occupy high station but regard themselves as lowly; they live in abundance but act as if in poverty. They rest in the low place of eminence and walk in the abyss of honor. They take humility and lowliness as the root, few desires as the foundation, fear and caution as their dwelling, and worry and vigilance as their door.

Blessing is often the harbinger of disaster; benefit may be the root of harm; stability may become the foundation of turmoil; survival may plant the cause of destruction. A ruler of exalted De is plain and unadorned, not addicted to sights and sounds, but holds only to the mysterious Dao; without selfish thoughts or distracting notions, he seems not yet to have been born. He guards emptiness, follows nature, investigates the original intent of Dao and De, and measures the conditions of Heaven and Earth.

Among disasters, none is greater than death; among blessings, none is greater than life. Yet to pursue a name that has name is to lose oneself; the nameless name is the dwelling that nourishes the self. To covet wealth is to make wealth a thief that harms the self; not to value the possession of wealth is instead to obtain the blessing of security.

No transgression is greater than indulging desires; no disaster is greater than greed; no fault is greater than overstepping one’s proper station. These three are like carriages of calamity: lightly, they endanger the self; gravely, they destroy the family.

The wealth and honor under Heaven are of three kinds: the most honored is to be without guilt; the greatest joy is to be without worry; the greatest wealth is to know contentment. To know contentment is to have obtained sufficient blessing; not to know contentment and refuse to stop means harm will ultimately fall upon oneself.

Excessive indulgence in the five colors confuses the eyesight of the people under Heaven; treasuring pearls and jade makes the people under Heaven toil; money circulating and being overly valued overturns the world. Therefore the five colors are like awls that pierce the eyes, the five tones are like awls that block the ears, and the five flavors are like axes that cut the tongue.

Speech is the mechanism by which the myriad spirits operate. Without speech, one cannot order bodily forms, express sounds, arrange true intent, or teach and transform others. Speech is what people see...

Visible scenes of mystery and wonder—if one does not rely on words, how can they be explained to others? Words and sounds depend on one another; forms and echoes arise together.

Those of profound De (Virtue/Power) can bear the greatest ill repute under heaven; those of profound benevolence can bear the greatest humiliation under heaven. Only one who can bear the greatest ill repute can enjoy the most honored stipends under heaven; only one who can bear the greatest humiliation can become the uniquely honored person under heaven.

Delusive thoughts gallop and race like birds flying swiftly; restless agitation and stagnant fixation are like being entangled by two forces. When sticky things are to be loosened and broken apart, it is like water currents scattering them. Desires arise as swiftly as wind, and the fire of passion is likewise. Once passion erupts violently, it is like a fierce tiger, its menacing glare pressing upon one, impossible to resist. The Qi (vital energy) of desire alters one’s mind and nature, so that one cannot settle in one’s normal state, scattering at will and changing without constancy. The eyes are stained by external things and cling to appearances; even reaching the obscure and mysterious realm, one still does not feel satisfied.

To fish without bait, spread nets without silk cords, hold a dagger-axe without binding ropes, and raise axes and halberds without killing. Though among sharp weapons and blades, the heart inflicts no harm. Those who possess the Dao (the Way) dwell therein, and those who possess De abide therein; tigers and rhinos retract their claws and fangs, leaving people without worry; ghosts and spirits also dwell together with people, leaving them without fear. Apes and birds, parrots and pigeons do not fear one another; wildcats, dogs, rabbits, and rats do not avoid conflict with one another.

Therefore the noble person securely guards himself, does not form factions or cliques, does not show off, does not act recklessly, harms neither others nor himself, and always keeps to quietude without changing; thus he completes the De of the noble person.

To bear heavy things only makes the burden heavier and inevitably brings exhaustion; to hide something without storing it properly means the hidden thing will eventually emerge. Indulging in lust and in damp, dark places only muddles the mind and spirit; a fondness for silk and cloth will ultimately bring ruin through craving, and only then will it cease. Schemes to encroach upon others should not arise; the same principle applies to cultivating a collected mind. One who collects the mind should be as cautious as when, tilting back the head, one balances something securely on top of it; one who stills distracting thoughts should be as alert as when guarding against thieves. Day and night one worries that the great Dao cannot be put into practice. Therefore the cultivator of the Dao worries that the Dao cannot be practiced, not that he is poor; worries that cultivation cannot be realized, not about himself.

To be in adverse circumstances without becoming corrupted, to dwell in filthy places without being defiled, to be in a weak position without contending, to occupy a high place without longing for a higher station—this speaks of cultivating one’s aspiration and vocation and practicing one’s Dao alone. For this reason, without acting personally one can still understand; without seizing, one can still obtain—hence it is called “taking.”

Flavors are sweet and pleasing, but only after being harmonized can they be used to nourish life; medicines may be good, but only when several are combined can they cure illness. Farming must follow the proper order of before and after to yield a harvest. Only through daily accumulation can one advance step by step; only by completing all preparations can one achieve De. Only by drawing close to those of low status can one recommend those of high status; only by broadly extending De and rectifying oneself can one judge others. Cultivation requires diligence in the Three Ways; when the Three Ways are cultivated and complete, one can penetrate the Heavenly Dao and the great Dao. Therefore, Taichu gave birth to Taishi, and Taishi in turn gave birth to Taisu. Craftsmen who revere the true Dao will cause the myriad... (the original text ends here unfinished).

Although bells and drums can produce sound, if no one strikes them they will not ring; although images are reflected in water, if there is no substantial entity to be reflected they will not appear; although valleys and streams contain Shen (spirit), if no call is made the spirits will not respond. Within the return to unhewn simplicity and true authenticity there lie latent implements and functions, but without a craftsman to make them, vessels will not take form. Human natural endowments may have strengths, but without effort they will not grow like sprouts. Thus Dao (the Way) operates through the ten thousand things: Qi (vital energy) fills the entire Great Void and descends according to the sequence of things; things with form appear in dependence on form, and formless things exist in dependence on formlessness.

Dao and De (Virtue/Power) are perfectly fused and interpenetrating, not constrained by the ten thousand things. Sentient beings see things by means of light and hear sounds by means of sound. But this does not mean that everything heard and seen can stand on its own; all appear only when causes and conditions correspond. Therefore, while practitioners of the Dao rely on external light, they also cultivate inner clarity; while relying on external sound, they also comprehend the principle behind sound. Only thus can they hear and see without being limited by external forms and sounds; they can apprehend words not yet spoken and know sounds not yet emitted. In this way, verbal discrimination can reach its limit. Hence the conduct of the True Person differs from that of ordinary people, and what they create can return to the source. Why? Because they understand that the Dao of Heaven does not favor anyone but draws close only to those with good conduct.

Sericulture depends on mulberry leaves, and only then can silkworms mature; nourishing Shen (spirit) depends on the Dao, and only then can life hope to be sublimated. One should value the root and not look only at branch tips; penetrating above and below, honoring the root and cherishing the branches and leaves, one can accord with the Dao of Heaven. By preserving the root, one obtains the branches and leaves; by guarding the Dao, one preserves oneself. The great Dao can be followed; if one keeps stillness without shifting, one can bear what is vast; if one holds to uprightness without deviation, one’s path can endure. The root takes its model from “nothing”; though plainness and truth may seem to change, one must embrace the One so that the ten thousand things return to the primordial beginning. Only by preserving the primordial beginning can one penetrate the great Dao; only by guarding the root can one obtain what one seeks.

Those skilled in practicing the Dao obtain auspiciousness; those able to examine themselves become clear and discerning; those able to perceive their faults attain peace of mind; those able to see their own shortcomings will seek improvement. The wise do not covet high position, nor do they single-mindedly strive to be first; they seek only to settle themselves and establish their lives. Therefore the True Person constantly guards the One, yields, and restrains faults; when waving a hand it is as if there were no arm, when acting they are not shaken by external things, and though occupying a high position they do not regard themselves as noble because of it—thus they can long preserve nobility.

Decorating weapons is an inauspicious practice; viewing warfare with severity and harshness makes desires endless. Even if one wins a battle, what benefit is there for life? Therefore those who possess the Dao value frugality and moderation, while those without the Dao value greed and acquisition. When the state is greedy, the people suffer; when it delights in the use of arms, the people meet calamity. The people being injured and harmed is precisely the sign that the way of those without the Dao has reached its extreme.

Only by removing practices contrary to the Dao can one long survive; only by setting aside the ability to regard oneself as sagely and enlightened can one reach the boundless; only by eliminating partial and mixed knowledge acquired from outside can one open true great wisdom; only by following the natural power of De can one unite with the De of the great Dao. Advance when it is time to advance, act when it is time to act; by conducting oneself according to this principle, one can achieve something.

Those who are plain and true will have their De made manifest; those whose De is deep will also accumulate true cultivation; those who cultivate can penetrate through; those who harmonize their Qi can become sages.

One knows while walking, and understands without seeing with one’s own eyes; hence this is called the “power of other minds” (the ability to discern the thoughts of others). Therefore, one who cultivates the Dao (the Way) walks in what is lacking and instead becomes full; dwelling in a lowly position and not contending for the high, one instead attains what is lofty and far-reaching. To accomplish a task as great as Mount Tai, one must have a broad heart and mind, and only then can one reach the heights; to cultivate the way of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the highest Dao, one must broadly accumulate De (Virtue/Power), and only then can one penetrate the Dao. Thus the Perfected person (Zhenren) humbles himself and dwells low, focuses on the subtle and minute, and ultimately reaches a lofty and far-reaching realm.

Gold is hidden among fragments of ore; outwardly they are the same, but inwardly they differ. Two people may share the same name, yet their bodies, endowments, and aspirations may each be different. Wolves and pigs keep company, but the directions they pursue are different; therefore their inner judgments of safety and danger are also not the same, and the categories to which they each belong differ from one another.

Water itself has no flavor, yet it is valued for many uses; earth itself has no breath, yet it broadly bears and nurtures the ten thousand things. Therefore, flavorlessness becomes the root of all flavors, and breathlessness becomes the root of all breaths. Only by being able to dwell in a low position and peacefully guard one’s De can one act without losing one’s root.

Only by continually accumulating threads can one weave a bolt of cloth; only by continually piling up earth can one form a mountain; only by continually accumulating merit can one become a sage; only by continually cultivating one’s spiritual nature can one become a Perfected person. To travel ten thousand li, one must still go step by step to arrive; to drift through the sea of clouds, one must still clearly distinguish direction before one can find joy on one’s own. The honest and plain are easily carved and polished; when full, they become manifest. Empty and still without weariness, harmonious and calm without hoarseness. The upright Dao is originally easy to arise, yet people turn away from it instead.

When Qi (vital energy) fills the body, radiance appears outwardly, circulating through inner and outer, with fluids reaching all the joints; responding to the Six Jia (Liu Jia, the stem-branch system in Daoist numerology), the body also changes accordingly. The flow of Qi pours into the Danyuan (the inner root of the body in Neidan, internal alchemy), causing the Dao to spread widely and tend toward the limitless. Such a person remains healthy in old age; as in youth, so in later years without decline; even in dimness, they do not become aged and frail. Sometimes they walk before others, sometimes they roam in Taiji. Their Dao is without form or color and does not belong to worldly categories, yet it can accomplish benefit; having accomplished it, they do not claim it as their own, and therefore they can accomplish great things.

To keep company with pigs and form groups is merely to wander the world in vain; to keep company with sheep and form factions is only to come and go on wild roads. Their going and staying have no fixed direction, and their life and death have no belonging. The foolish and wicked band together and also believe they have penetrated the heavenly Dao; but the sage conceals and buries nothing, and all can reach the realm of Shen (spirit) and illumination. Therefore, the Perfected person cultivates himself, neither indulging nor declining, cutting off licentiousness and idle dispersion, refining Shen and guarding the One (concentrating the spirit and focusing on the One), peaceful like a newborn child. This is the root of preserving the state and adhering to the constant Dao.

Seedlings and weeds grow in the same place, and their outward appearance is similar; green shoots and weeds grow together, and it is hard to distinguish them. Silver, tou (an alloy similar to brass), lead, and tin are stored together in one room; the careless cannot recognize them, and only one who examines carefully can see them clearly. Therefore, the Perfected person carefully chooses teachers and friends, and devotes himself to cultivation without falling into error. Those scholars who can examine and discriminate are worthy of being honored as teachers. Why? One who does not understand discrimination puts ice and hot soup in the same pot, and nothing can be preserved. Only by examining oneself and choosing whom to associate with can one avoid fault and ruin.

The day is about to end, the night is long, yet the light still endures without decline; the moon is about to wane, yet its radiance still shines long; the kalpa…

When the cycle of fortune reaches decline and destruction, the myriad things perish. Therefore, those who cultivate the Dao (the Way) lodge themselves in the world without lingering in it; they establish merit but do not claim it as their own. They settle in the world in accordance with nature, receiving upright Qi (vital energy) without letting it scatter.

Once the Dao is perfected, one can broadly nurture the four kinds of birth—viviparous, oviparous, moisture-born, and transformation-born—along with the myriad things. Human nature merges into all kinds, and through human cultivation they attain useful vesselhood. Those whose conduct accords with the Dao can become vessels fit for use; those who cling to bait move toward ruin. Thus the Dao brings forth one, De (Virtue/Power) brings forth two, and the human brings forth three; heaven and earth thereby transform and generate the myriad things, and humanity is honored among them. If people know how to treasure themselves, they can complete their vessel; if they do not, they will disorderly exhaust Jing (essence) and Qi. Those who understand this principle can penetrate to the infinite.

The so-called Zhenren (Perfected) do not contrive, yet their achievements are outstanding; they do not display sharpness, yet their De gathers. They speak without seeking response; they act without being moved by external things. The five colors enter the eyes, yet do not confuse the gaze; the five flavors enter the mouth, yet do not disturb the sense of taste. Thus mental impulses turn as fast as lightning, and thoughts gallop as urgently as wind and clouds. To gather in the mind, one need not rely on severe punishment; to cut off craving for flavors, one need not reject the five flavors. To be able to let go of attachment without forcing—this is to mount the stairway to the heavenly Dao.

Steep mountain paths can be reached only by means of a road; a splendid garment woven of pearls and jade can be completed only by needle and thread. Gentlemen who study the Dao may travel different paths, yet they can tend toward the same goal; though their dwellings differ, their minds can connect. If the Dao is not shared, people cannot plan for one another; if the roads they travel together are different, what they see in their hearts will also differ. What is called “sameness in difference” refers precisely to this principle of being different yet able to connect.

Sharp stones can injure the waist; sharp iron can injure the body; treasures can endanger life; cunning in the mind can injure one’s original nature. Things that cause harm are often raced after by people, deepening disaster. Therefore one should remove sharpness, avoid harm, and walk in accord with the Great Dao. When about to lift something, begin from the low point; to make the central Qi full, one must continually nourish it. If one can always hold great vows, continuously accumulate primordial Qi, and bestow harmonious Qi, bringing peace to body and mind, then one can remove afflictions and entanglements, make the mind a bridge to the Great Dao, and reach a boundless realm. This is cultivation free from injury.

The Zhenren scatter jade blossoms to expel defilement; the Golden Immortals emit the essence of the sun to brush away dust; the Eight Pure Ones, empty and bright, assist spiritual nature; the Three Primes (Heaven, Earth, and Water in Daoism) enable people to become immortals and circulate the Qi of the dark and hidden realms. If one can make the mind peaceful, then even in a bedroom one can contemplate the countenances of the spirits and realize the Dao of nature; drawing in the deep, hidden spiritual light, one can prolong aging and withered life.

Yunji Qiqian, scroll 90