《雲笈七籤》Vol. 98

The Yunji Qiqian (Seven Slips from the Cloud Satchel), juan 98, part one

(Compiled and submitted by his subject Zhang Junfang of the Song dynasty, Court Gentleman for Chafeng, Vice Director of the Bureau of Revenue of the Department of State Affairs, Collator of the Jixian Academy, recipient of the crimson fish-bag and the privilege of wearing purple.)

Poems and Eulogies

Two Poems Bestowed by Lady Taizhen upon Ma Mingsheng (with Preface)

Lady Taizhen was the youngest daughter of the Queen Mother of the West. She was then about sixteen or seventeen years old, named Wanluo, styled Bosui, and served Xuandu Taizhen. She had a son who was the Sizhi of the Santian Taishang Fu, overseeing the affairs of the Heavenly Bureau (Tiancao, the celestial administrative office); he was a ministerial aide serving in the human realm.

When young, this son liked to abandon his post and go out for amusement, neglecting his responsibilities. The supervising officials submitted a memorial impeaching him, accusing him of not personally handling and inspecting official business, and so he was demoted and sent to the Eastern Peak, enrolled among the subordinates of King Tuizhen and given the office of commanding ghosts and spirits. This post rotated once every five hundred years.

The lady made a special trip to visit him, encouraging him henceforth to discharge his duties well, handle administrative affairs, and make amends for his errors. On the way she passed through Linzi, where she encountered a minor county official, He Junxian, who had been severely wounded by bandits and was then close to death. Seeing him, the lady took pity and asked how he had been so badly injured. He Junxian answered truthfully.

The lady said: “You have suffered a severe sword wound; the cut has penetrated your lungs, your Five Viscera are damaged, blood has flowed into the Jiangfu (Crimson Mansion, a locus within the body in Daoist physiology), and your Qi and blood are in chaotic counterflow, with the injury extending beyond the intestines. You are now in imminent peril and can no longer be restored to life.” He Junxian knew she was a divine being, so he kowtowed and begged her to heal him.

The lady took from the tube carried at her elbow (an old-style tube for keeping personal items) a pill the size of a small bean and had him swallow it at once. After taking the medicine, he was immediately healed: the bleeding stopped, the wound closed, and the pain ceased.

He Junxian bowed in thanks again and, kneeling, said: “My family is poor, and I have no sufficient wealth to repay you; I do not know how to requite you. If I am to repay your kindness, I wish only to exert my meager strength to return the favor I have received.”

The lady said: “If you insist on repaying me, that intention is also good. Are you willing to come with me?” He Junxian then changed his name and surname, calling himself Ma Mingsheng, and followed the lady in service.

The lady returned to Mount Daizong of the Eastern Peak (Mount Tai) and dwelt in a stone chamber on a sheer cliff. There the ascent and descent were precipitously cut off, the layered crags deep and secluded, more than a thousand zhang above the ground. In the stone chamber were golden beds, jade tables, and rare treasures; the place was inaccessible by human strength.

Ma Mingsheng at first only wanted to learn methods for treating sword wounds; but when he saw immortals coming and going, playing chess and associating with one another, he realized that in the world there was also the Dao of long life and immortality. From morning to night he supplied what was needed and swept and cleaned, not daring to be negligent. The lady also…

They used ghosts, monsters, tigers, wolves, and various other illusions to confuse and test Mingsheng. His expression remained clear, his mind calm, steady, and upright, and he was never afraid. They also made him go out and stay elsewhere, and arranged for beautiful women to tease and draw close to him while he rested; his resolve was firm, quiet, and single-minded, and he had no improper thoughts.

Sometimes the Lady went out, returning after five or ten days, and sometimes only after twenty days or a month. Mingsheng often saw immortal guests arrive riding dragons, qilin, tigers, and leopards; some also came to pay their respects. Sometimes true immortals sat all day in the room, and whenever guests arrived, the Lady sent Mingsheng to the outer room.

At times, exquisite food from the kitchen, fine dishes and fruits, and unusual fragrant wines and marvelous beverages would suddenly appear before them, leaving people unable to tell where they came from or what they were called. Sometimes the Lady called Mingsheng over to eat and drink together with everyone. He also heard the sounds of qin and se and sweet, beautiful singing coming through the air. The Lady, too, often played the qin and se herself; a single string produced five tones, high and clear, stirring and distant, so that they could be heard from several li away. All kinds of birds gathered around the cave and stone chamber, flying back and forth, refusing to leave even when driven away. This was precisely the wondrous scene of heavenly beings and music becoming one, naturally revealed.

The Lady usually lived in the stone chamber and always shared a room with Mingsheng, though they slept on separate beds. In that secluded place there were usually only the two of them; when the Lady went out, she did not say where she was going. Mingsheng only saw that a white dragon often came to meet her. The Lady would put on a cloud-light embroidered robe and ride the white dragon away; the robe had bright-moon pearls sewn into its seams, and she wore jade pendants, gold ornaments, and a Taixuan crown. When she traveled, no attendants could be seen; when she returned, the white dragon would leave on its own, and no one knew where it went.

On the jade bed in the stone chamber were purple brocade bedding and a crimson gauze curtain. Within the curtain were various clothes and precious playthings, with gold boxes and caskets arranged here and there, all things not found in the world, and Mingsheng could not name them one by one. There were also two white scrolls, titled Jing of the Most High Dao of the Nine Heavens. Mingsheng never dared open them to read the text; he was responsible only for supplying necessities, sweeping, and guarding the stone chamber. As for those clothes and precious playthings, he did not dare secretly peek at them, much less ask about them.

After five years passed in this way, Mingsheng became even more diligent and respectful, never slacking. The Lady said to him: “You truly are someone who can be taught, and you will certainly be able to attain the Dao. You were originally an ordinary mortal, yet you have reverently admired the wondrous spiritual Qi and never given up. Even if you wished to die, how could you die?”

She had never told me her surname and given name before this. She said: “I have already remained in the human world for a long time. Now, by the command of the sovereign, I have also been summoned by Taishang (the honorific in Daoism for the highest deity), and I cannot stay any longer. Thinking that you have always been focused and cautious, I have therefore told you specifically: I originally wished to teach you the arts of long life and prolonging years, but what I transmit is the Li of the Natural Dragon Embryo of Supreme Harmony (a legendary immortal medicine in Daoism), which is only suitable to be transmitted to the True Persons of the Three Heavens (high-ranking True Persons in Daoism) and cannot be taught to beginners. Even if you should hear it by chance, you may not necessarily be able to use it to cultivate yourself; this is fundamentally not something you are now able to hear.”

She also said: “Master Anqi understands the Golden Liquid Elixir method (the cultivation method for refining the Golden Liquid Elixir). This method is extremely secret; it is the Dao method of Yuanjun and Taiyi, and those who successfully cultivate it can ascend to Heaven in broad daylight. Tomorrow Master Anqi will come, and I will entrust you to him. Follow him for a period, and he will certainly transmit the Daoist arts to you.”

The next day, Master Anqi arrived. He rode a spirited qilin, wore vermilion robes, a Far-Roaming Crown, and jade pendants, and at his waist was tied a tiger-head belt pouch (a pouch decorated with a tiger head). He looked about twenty years old, with a fair complexion and a dignified, neat bearing. The six or seven immortals accompanying him all held tallies and insignia, respectfully guarding him. When he saw the Lady, he bowed very respectfully and called himself “your subordinate official.” Before long, kitchen provisions arrived, and everyone feasted for about half a day.

The Lady said to Mingsheng: “I cannot stay any longer. Go with this gentleman; there is no need to worry about me. I will also look after you from time to time. Now I give you two five-character poems to keep as a memento.” Mingsheng bade farewell in tears and afterward followed Master Anqi to study the Way of the Nine Elixirs (a type of Daoist alchemy).

The poem reads:

For a time I leave Yongcheng (the legendary immortal city),

Riding a carriage to the foot of Mount Dai.

Looking up at the palaces of Taiqing,

Cloud towers rise high, layered and steep.

In emptiness and stillness a True Person comes;

How flourishing is the scene of this meeting.

Refining and nurturing the physical form, preserving one’s natural nature;

In every movement, bowing and lifting, inhaling the Qi of Supreme Harmony.

Day by day I have audience with the Kings of the Nine Heavens;

At night I return to the lodgings of Xihua.

Drawing in Jing and Qi, one may fly upward;

Exhaling the old and inhaling the new, nurturing the Green Teeth (a term in Daoist cultivation for the teeth or related Qi).

The supreme treasure is not made of gold or stone;

A pure breeze arises naturally, as if singing.

Flying up and down beyond the clouds,

Feather garments flutter, with graceful bearing.

The Five Peaks are not my dwelling;

Xuandu is my home.

Looking down at those who strive for fame and profit,

Their deluded appearance is like that of frogs and toads.

Looking back at the turbid realm of the dusty world,

Worries and troubles entwine like a net.

If one has not yet understood the mysterious purport,

Why cling to carved and polished cultivation?

Calamities often gather because of leaking the Dao teachings;

Carefully guarding secrecy, blessings will increase.

One of them:

In former times I was once born in Kunling Palace,

Together discussing the Way of prolonging life and attaining immortality.

Although the Golden Liquid can make people long-lived,

It is not equal to the Supreme Harmony immortal method.

Looking up, I climb the Terrace of the Dark Immortals,

And with a heart of emptiness and stillness I chant of spiritual beings.

Suddenly I encounter Fusang…

Wang Jiulao, an immortal, rode in a carriage drawn by a purple dragon. How radiant and beautiful he looked! He met me on a long journey and invited me to the “Ford of Naturalness,” the crossing that leads to the Dao of Nature. There he taught me the art of the great bird’s flight, the method of ascending to immortality, and passed on the Jade Embryo Treatise, a text on cultivation. The numinous liquid called jade cream gathered subtle, mysterious Qi, and the Immortal Maiden Su explained it to me.

I bent down to drink the fat of the phoenix of jade, then rose lightly into the air for three days. The cloud pathways of heaven lay beneath my feet, and I could briefly travel among the Five Sacred Mountains. The Mysterious Capital, an immortal realm in Daoist tradition, was close at hand, while Penglai lay far beyond the sky. Those who transmit the Dao and those who receive it are bound by mutual affection, becoming friends between heaven and humanity. Once the art of creating a substitute body is put into practice, one may travel freely; even in the face of punishment and calamity, one can escape the ignorance that brings harm. Keep the teaching secret, and its benefits may be enjoyed for a long time; reveal it, and life and body will be ruined.

Part Two: Twenty-Six Poems by the Lady Right Heroine of Cloud Forest to the Perfected Yang and the Senior Historian Xu, with Preface

The Lady Right Heroine of Cloud Forest, a title of an immortal woman, was named Meilan and given the courtesy name Shenlin. She was the thirteenth daughter of the Queen Mother of the West. By imperial command, she took charge of Cloud Forest Palace, received the title Lady Right Heroine, and governed Canglang Mountain. On the third day of the seventh month in the third year of Xingning under the Jin (an yichou year), the Supreme Ministers of the Eastern Peak, the Lords of Destiny, and other Perfected Ones came together to visit Lord Yang and delivered a letter that said:

“When you were young, you endured displacement, yet your innate spiritual nature did not vanish. In human life, good fortune and calamity depend on one another, though their causes differ. You have not yet climbed the cloud ladder. Though you aspire to advance, you have not yet penetrated deeply into the utmost Dao. Your talent is truly exceptional; your writing is lucid and far-reaching. You set your aspirations on the Great Mystery, the profound realm of the Dao, and hope to enter the Purple Court, the immortal realm, and walk freely through the air. Your mind is perceptive, able to convey hidden principles through your writing. Your conduct accords with the rules; you quietly contemplate the true Dao, and your conversation can kindle interest. You may indeed be called a person of outstanding virtue, worthy of respect.

“Yet your disordered thoughts have not been cleansed, and attachment still remains in your heart. Your thoughts of lust have not been brought to an end, and the pool of your mind has not yet cleared. For this reason, you cannot yet discuss with us the inner and outer methods of cultivation, much less the profound principles of the sun and moon’s union. When an opportunity has been missed, what matters is being able to correct one’s errors. You may both forgive one another; people with affection for each other need not hesitate to be reconciled now. Though the public talk has for the moment died down, matters have at least been brought back into harmony.

“The road ahead is long, and there will be many such trials. Tangled affairs are numerous, so you should remain cautious and restrained at all times. When feelings and intentions go too far, disorder arises with each new situation. If you cannot grasp the subtle words, how will you stop your errors and make up for what is lacking? A clear, resonant sound spreads through the sky; the spirit wind sweeps through the trees. May you lift your body beyond the road of darkness and let your mind give voice to wondrous spiritual sounds. Benevolent lord, this is what you are like: steadfast in the true Dao, diligent and sincere. Within a year, you can keep your head from turning white and make your thinning hair grow again. But if you worry inwardly about your descendants while also having to attend outwardly to affairs of state, then your dealings with friends, and what your eyes see and your ears hear…”

The widespread use of vocal sound, breath regulation, and other menial cultivation methods brings no benefit either. Here it further speaks of Yufu’s cultivation of the Dao (the Way), using Xue Jihe’s failure to pass seven trials as an analogy. Master Changli said: Lord Xue’s younger brother lost his office through debauchery and indulgence, but by nature he loved the sound of the flute and the call of the phoenix. Master Changli therefore petitioned Taishang (the Supreme Deity, Daoism’s honorific for the highest god) to have him reborn, saying that the hidden virtue accumulated by Zhao’e might perhaps help Marquis Xu Yufu.

It also says: hearing the north wind, one feels sorrow; seeing Qiyao (a star), one gives rise to calm thoughts; longing for fine horses, one hopes to gallop; loving beautiful and gentle things, one uses them to change pent-up feelings—how could the people of the world not be like this? This is precisely the influence of one’s native customs and the inner resonance people have with their homeland. If you can believe these principles, your mind and will can be harmonized. But if the mind is blocked and desires remain rigidly unyielding, cinnabar-red Qi (vital energy) cannot flow freely; numinous people—those of spiritual nature who have succeeded in cultivation—come hand in hand only to return empty-handed; lofty friends draw back their sleeves and depart in disappointment. Shen (spirit) and Qi no longer care for their dwelling, and the realm of silent, mysterious communion no longer appears before him; this is bringing blame upon oneself—how could it not be sad?

Those who attain the Dao can cast off many entanglements and advance straight ahead; thus all norms naturally settle, and all affairs disperse like clouds. If cultivation proceeds smoothly, do not regard it as toil; if you encounter hardship, it is precisely an occasion to demonstrate your resolve. In the first month a visitor from Guishan will surely arrive; the demeanor of the worthy should also be carefully observed.

From ancient times to the present, life and death each have their destination, and prominence and obscurity each have their season. Concealing cleverness, extinguishing cunning, and living alongside ordinary worldly people—these too are ways in which those who attain the Dao cultivate. As for those who take the jade elixir (immortal elixir), ascend three times to Jiuhua (a wonderland), drink cloud liquid at dawn and wander amid liuhuang (a numinous substance in Daoist lore), look up to swallow golden syrup and chew jade stems (foods consumed by immortals), they can immediately harness the sun and moon, rise into the high sky, and ascend to Taiwei (a celestial star region). But if worldly affairs run counter to the mysterious Dao, these practices are difficult to complete; then one should temporarily dwell in Taiyin (the realm of darkness), enter Mingxiang (the nether realm), abandon body and external things, nurture the embryo and refine Qi in an empty, quiet dwelling, withdraw the breath, and receive the mysterious essence and Qi. Thus one can transform one’s appearance in the Hall of Three Yin and restore a youthful complexion at the Gate of Ninefold Refinement. From this one knows that the way of immortals is truly wondrous; that spiritual consciousness is not extinguished after death, and the principles of coming and going and transformation, are all profoundly deep.

A great tree able to shelter ten thousand mu of land from wind and rain must grow on extremely high mountain ridges; the force of water that can overturn high peaks and form sky-reaching torrents must originate from the source of Bantong. The worthy who accumulate hidden virtue are truly great, like the people of Bin. The yilin (a numinous qilin) roams free beyond the Great Wilderness, and so has no sorrow of tethers and restraints; the spirit bird flaps its wings and flies to Xuanpu (a legendary immortal mountain), thereby avoiding the calamity of nets and cords. When people cultivate the Dao, would they ever disdain hidden retreat and the avoidance of worldly traces?

Even if one finds a fine horse that gallops like “Jueying” (Shadowless), one cannot make it ride the wind and cleave the waves on the Lüliang waters; even if one has a boat capable of crossing rapids, one cannot make it climb the steep heights of Mount Taihang. This is because each has its own strengths, and their capacities differ. Dense forests can provide birds with shelter, and deep, broad springs attract all kinds of fish—this is the resonance brought about by abundant De (Virtue/Power). Those who cultivate the Dao (the Way) truly must work hard; those who persevere will in the end achieve something.

Students of the Dao should concentrate their minds on the Dao, allow their true nature to appear naturally, and not let their thoughts scatter; they should reject extravagance and guard pure stillness and plainness. The mind should be as still as if seeing something in the dark, as joyful as if gaining something in the dark; as focused as if standing at the edge of a deep valley, as cautious as if walking on thin ice. This is the method for entering the gate of attaining the Dao, but it is not the whole of arriving at the realm of attaining the Dao.

What is called learning the Dao is both very difficult and very easy. If one can explore the profound and appreciate its meaning, preserve a harmonious and pure original nature, concentrate the Shen (spirit) and gather Qi (vital energy), settle the mind, devote oneself to the six fu organs (part of the body’s internal organs), cherish original Qi, close the eyes and listen quietly without being disturbed by external things, then learning the Dao is easy. If one cannot do this, learning the Dao is difficult.

Moreover, when the Qi among the mountains is disturbed, birds and beasts wail in the forests; when rivers and lakes are blocked and do not flow, dragons and snakes suffer in the marshes. These are natural signs. If the direction one pursues does not accord with reason, the functions and transformations of the myriad things will each differ. If the mind is not calm and compliant, one cannot be modest and harmonious; if the mind is not empty and still, one cannot unite with the Dao. As long as one’s thoughts are not crooked, one will not invite disaster. One should make the inner mind profoundly quiet and remove entanglements; clarify the source, and the water that flows forth will naturally be clear.

If one goes south while driving the chariot north, so that what the mind thinks and the mouth says contradict each other; if one rejects wild vegetables such as shepherd’s purse yet insists on eating eggplant and tea; if one mocks Jiucheng (an ancient music and dance) yet delights in vulgar things—then this shows a lack of discernment and an inability to distinguish and examine harmonious sounds. Thus someone advised Emperor Jianwen of Jin: “You should wear a piece of musk at your neck to ward off water disasters and nightmares.”

Learning the Dao depends on accumulating merit and continuously doing good. The Taixu Zhenren (Perfected One of the Great Void, a figure in Daoist legend) often said: If people commit many faults and do not know repentance, the guilt will return to themselves, like the hundred rivers flowing into the sea, accumulating day by day and becoming ever deeper and heavier. If one can know one’s own faults, repent, and change one’s conduct toward good, one can also attain the Dao.

When others treat me with malice, I respond with good will; when others bring me disaster, I respond with blessing and good. In this way, good always remains with oneself. Evil people harming good people is like spitting at the sky: the spit does not dirty the sky but instead dirties oneself; it is also like raising dust against the wind: the dust does not fall on the other person but instead falls on oneself. The Dao cannot be destroyed; the calamity brought by doing evil will ultimately fall on oneself.

To support one hundred ordinary people is not as good as supporting one good person; to support one thousand good people is not as good as supporting one poor and humble person…

Those who cultivate the Daoist arts should know that these are the secretly transmitted words of the Gaozhen (the high divine beings revered in Daoism) and the important precepts of Taishang (the Highest Lord).

Wealth and beauty are to people like a child licking honey from a knife blade. The honey is not enough to satisfy the mouth, yet there is the danger of cutting the tongue. Be warned! Among desires, none is greater than beauty; the offenses it brings cannot be surpassed, and the evil consequences it causes are hard to remedy—how could one fail to abstain from it?

Learning the Dao requires cultivating yinde (hidden virtue: doing good secretly without seeking fame), bestowing kindness upon others, and helping and rescuing those in distress. In earnest practice, nothing is more important than guarding oneself and carrying out the Daoist teachings; the blessings obtained in this way are exceedingly great, and one’s life can become long and firmly established.

An immortal chanted:

Driving a xuche (the flying chariot of immortals), I roam through the eight directions of the void, whirling and setting out a banquet in the Donghua Chamber (an eastern immortal realm). The Queen Mother of the West (Xiwangmu, a Daoist female immortal) waits for me in the Xuan Pavilion; I give a clear, long whistle and ride the numinous wind. I have come here because my heart still has attachments, and so I cross the Canglang.

The first:

Driving the chariot, I leap among clouds and rosy mists, floating and gazing over the high heavens; the immortal carriage darts to and fro in the sky, followed by a purple canopy. I lodge myself within the immortal realms; crimson mist entwines the banners, and feathered robes spread open, fanning fragrant winds. Thunder roars like a savage beast, lightning whistles; the dark dragon rises, heavenly music echoes in the Kun courtyard, and golden zhu instruments sound, with divine bells ringing.

I gather lingzhi in the Canglang and pluck flowers on Bachun Peak. My face grows younger day by day, and through kalpas I remain like an infant. Dwelling quietly on the eastern ridge, I nourish my form, and the seven spirits (the deities within the human body) naturally communicate. The storms of the dusty world cause grief and make my white hair fall. After long silence, only a distant sigh remains: I regret not having left the world earlier and set foot on the immortal path.

The second:

I halt my carriage; Wangshu (the deity who drives the moon) has already moved on, and the moon wheel turns back to the Canglang. I have not yet seen that immortal; I can only chance to imagine his roaming—where can peace and health be found? For now I shall wait for the spring day, then give voice to my feelings and forget my cares.

The third:

Harnessing the light of sun and moon, I float above purple smoke and view the Fen River amid the Bajing (Eight Effulgences, the high and distant realms inhabited by immortals). Feathered youths present jade nectar, and Yuhua offers fine wine and food as a farewell feast. We pledge to meet by the White Water, raising my weirui pearl (an immortal treasure).

The fourth:

The Cang chamber reflects the eastern dawn; the purple immortal realm floats in the crimson morning. The two virtues uphold the essential tenet of the Dao and guard the domain of the true immortals. The scenery of the eight terraces can all be gazed upon; looking north, one flies into the primordial pure clouds. Looking down from afar, the body shifts with the light and scenery; breathing in and out the numinous excellence of the cave ridges, I dwell in hiding on the eastern mountain and gather in my radiance.

Long settled in worldly human affairs, I have not a moment’s leisure each day. How could I compare with the endowment of Old Man Yi (Yi Weng), able to return to an infant-like countenance?

The fifth:

At dawn, the Gate of Great Rosy Cloud raises a jade chamber, and riding pure Qi I ascend into the high heavens. Comprehending the Three Marvels (Sanqi, the three wondrous elements in Daoist cultivation), I float in a profound and distant realm. The elixir flower displays golden light in the sky, and Jing and Qi condense and arise; the eight winds stir, and brocade shawls unfurl. Jade-green trees illumine the numinous beings of the four directions, and a floral canopy shades the orchid-like radiance. Purple reins drive the green immortal carriage; I establish a covenant and communicate with the spirits; in touching all things, I follow the utmost sincerity of the Dao. Why then should I still be moved by outward forms and insist on seeing with my own eyes the jade ...

The Sixth

The Three Luminaries (Sanjing, the Daoist term for celestial phenomena such as the sun, moon, and stars) are beautiful and flourishing, illuminating the mysterious distant sky and the four directions; cinnabar clouds drift high, and immortals roam freely.

Letting the numinous wind beat their wings, they ride the pure white wind and straighten up to gaze afar at the jade terrace. Entering where green canopies shade them, at dawn they rise into the air on azure carriages; they pay respects to the Lord Emperor of the Eastern Grove and go to the audience of the Emperor of the Great Void. Jade guests split open phoenix brains and drink fine wine; flying-leaf nectar drifts, music among the clouds swirls, and a thousand immortal melodies sound in the sleeping halls.

Brocade banners clatter and summon fierce beasts; ornate pennants rise and fall with the wind. The Incense Mother bends low and sings; purple smoke rises and curls around the beams. Driving carriages toward the high heavenly gate, they unharness and enter the dwelling of the fair ones.

The movements of former times unfolded even before omens appeared; wondrous transformations flow in accord with Qi. The mind and spirit gaze afar toward the mysterious realm and feel the years accumulate layer upon layer. Worldly people value the physical form and crave foul odors; with each stirring or stilling of the mind, they lose clarity and quiet. My friend is not like this: matters of honor and disgrace have long been forgotten.

The Seventh

Crimson clouds appear in the deep dawn; purple carriages travel riding the smoke. Ascending past the green pass, they look down on the City of Vermilion Fire. In the east the dawn light opens and vast radiance shines; divine light blazes, the Seven Spirits (Qiling, deities in Daoism) are veiled within it, and the threefold radiance turns without cease.

Let the dark wind pass through the hollow heavens; fragrant sounds arise in rhythm. Hand in hand with the Weaver Girl, they dance in the court of the Gourd Star; the two stand shoulder to shoulder. Green feather banners wheel to the left; the canopy tilts with the cloud Qi. They feast and rest beyond the ninefold heavens; right and wrong, gain and loss do not entangle the mind. Embracing the true Dao, they dwell in the Great Stillness (a realm of profound purity and quiet), and their golden immortal forms increasingly manifest. How could they resemble those amid fault and defilement, living in unbearable sorrow with nothing to rely on?

The Eighth

Banners on all sides illuminate the sky; vermilion carriages fly over the Numinous Mound. Jade canopies shade the Seven Luminaries; the carriages ride flying wings, floating above the heavenly river. Nine kinds of music resound through the purple sky; the sound of jade vessels enters Taiwu (the Daoist realm of emptiness and nothingness). They feast and chant in the Palace of the Three Dawns (a Daoist immortal palace), calling out loudly to companions of the Dao.

Unaware that spring has arrived, unaware that the sun and moon (the two luminaries) have already turned. Though the fair one can forget worldly affairs altogether, she has not yet let go of a hundred worries. In the deep forest there is truly suitability for purity and quiet; within the mountain cliffs there are naturally many joys.

The Ninth

Climbing north to the Gate of Mysterious Truth, holding hands with companions, they ascend the heights together. Incense smoke spreads through the eight directions; a dark wind stirs crimson waves. Ascending past the ford of Lang Garden, they look down on the mountain slopes of Xiaoling. Jade flutes play above the clouds; phoenix calls reach the farthest distances.

Riding Qi to float through outer space, why still climb the mountain peaks? Golden tallies transmit commands, summoning feathered spirits and mustering troops to subdue ten thousand demons; together they draw in the radiance of the Two Dawns, and after a thousand springs their immortal faces remain like children’s.

To lose one’s true nature and throw oneself into contention, yet not understand the principle behind it—what can be done?

The Tenth

Looking up at the Palace of Great Rosy Clouds, golden pavilions shine in the Purple Clarity Heaven (a Daoist paradise). Ornate chambers reflect Taisu (Great Simplicity), and the galleries on all four sides are of vermilion jade. Wheels are cast toward the ford of empty space; driving carriages, they dance with green vehicles. Jade Flower rides the flying clouds… The original text breaks off here; the remainder is incomplete.

The Queen Mother of the West (the Western Consort) waves her brocade banner, and in an instant leaves the dusty world; the beautiful one suddenly comes to linger in the courtyard. Resonating with the descent of the true spirit, what was prayed for has already been fulfilled in the hidden darkness. Riding the wind and making music, at dawn they drink together in the cinnabar forest. Those lords and marquises who think themselves noble are short-sighted—how could they understand the wondrous spirit of the Perfected?

No. 11

At dawn I hold up the red clouds, gather the primal Qi, and roam above the clouds; riding a light carriage, I tread the winding waves forward. Seeing the sorrow of the world, I guide people with words, lifting their spirits so they no longer grieve. The three blossoms—numinous herbs like lingzhi—grow at the mountain’s corner. Why not go to the Mysterious Realm, comfort the suffering, and make your heart rejoice? When the heart is at peace, where can there be a boundary? I wish all that is in my heart to return to emptiness.

No. 12

Harnessing the radiance of sun and moon, I ascend into the clouds and at dawn feast in the Canglang Palace. Colored clouds coil around the cinnabar mist, and Qi spreads through the eight directions. High Perfected chant in the jade chambers, and lofty immortals sing in the gem-lined rooms; nine phoenixes sound the red pipes, and instruments and bells echo in alternation, dwelling within the golden court. In the hidden darkness I make companions and together we drink jade nectar. In an instant I am restored to youth. Why then squat in the human world? Illness and calamity only grow heavier day by day.

No. 13

At dawn I wander in the Palace of Great Simplicity and drive my chariot to view the Jade River; at dusk I set a feast in the deep, high heavens, and at dawn I gather the radiance of the full sun-disc. I play music at the Northern Cold Terrace, and the light of the Seven Spirits—the star deities—shines upon the purple mist. High immortals throng together, gathering in from the dusty world. If one long remains amid noise and confusion, how could guilt and entanglement be few?

No. 14

Driving the cloud Qi, I speed on a cloud chariot and at dawn climb the Mound of Great Purity. The red heavenly river stretches across the ridges; clear waves surge and stir up deep currents. Walking in the air, I view the Nine Wefts and Eight Canons—the order of heaven and earth’s movement—and have traveled through them all. I temporarily feast at Sanjinxiu, a numinous spot in the immortal realm, and those who come are kindred spirits. Effort and negligence cannot conceal each other, and so a hundred sorrows accumulate.

No. 15

Treading the waves, I cross the Canglang waters and suddenly arrive at the Golden Mountain. Looking all around, I roam and enjoy myself all day, yet few immortals among the clouds accompany me.

No. 16

Purple palaces rise soaring in the air; mysterious halls are high, distant, and secluded. Swift winds stir the jade ornaments of fine gems, and in the numinous garden many flowers bloom and congeal into beautiful jade. Driving a cloud chariot at the Canglang ford, the eight winds surge and play the Cloud Shao immortal music. I unfold a feather fan to screen the north, hold a staff of office, and strike the golden flute; phoenix-like music harmonizes with a thousand bells, and the Queen Mother of the West’s attendant boys sing a dawn song. The heart opens wide, beyond emptiness itself; how bright and vast the spirit is. Whirling in dance over the mountains of the great void, the Six Qi move in the hidden depths. How could you find my immortal path? Even so, you too will in the end no longer age.

No. 17

Mysterious waves surge; the Canglang torrent races, and ten thousand streams converge. Harnessing the radiance of sun and moon, I look down on the four quarters of heaven and earth, longing to roam with the beautiful one. No one answers my beautiful song; who can match the pure music? Riding the jade wheel in the clouds, why still hurry through the human world?

No. 18

The original text does not provide the main text of “No. 18.”

Pines and cypresses grow on deep, high mountain ridges; their branches and leaves are dense, forming a cool and secluded forest; their blossoms open fully, and they do not fear even the ice of harsh winter. When white snow swirls and the ways of the world are in turmoil, I still make my way along those deep ridges in search; the way of cultivation remains ever pure. I shall drive my carriage far, setting foot on the traces of the lofty and transcendent. The official career of dukes and marquises may naturally come and go—why can one not cut it off completely?

Nineteen

I wish to dwell securely and quietly beneath the shade of the eastern mountains, lodging my body and nurturing my spirit. The courtyard is secluded, open and spacious, with luxuriant grasses and trees; emerald forests encircle it, and sunlight shines on the southern window. A clear breeze enters the hidden chamber; in a leisurely, quiet room I sit with hands folded, waiting for the time to open the wondrous art of cultivation. My mind is broad and bright, my thoughts reaching far into the mysterious realm; my spirit is clear, calm, and at ease, untouched by worldly entanglements.

Twenty

Letting myself roam freely across the vast, boundless crossing, I rein in my horse, drive my carriage, and mount a vermilion equipage. Why does the fair one delay in coming? Once the Dao and De are cultivated to completion, how much longer must one wait?

Twenty-One

Although allegory relies on fiction, it must contain a principle that can be adopted; if one does not comprehend it at all, one will gain nothing. How can one command light and swift steps to pursue this realm in the air? The numinous, subtle, and hidden voice truly holds deep meaning; one should use it carefully and never treat it lightly. If affairs can accord with wondrous opportunity, you may preserve yourself and see with your own eyes an age of great peace.

Twenty-Two

Driving the radiance of sun and moon, I arrive above Canglang and fly across the ford of the Blue Sea. Red clouds coil around the sunlight; a feathered canopy is raised high into the nine heavens; a cloud carriage floats through the air, and in an instant I arrive amid Canglang. I come to seek a kindred spirit who has attained the Dao, and hand in hand to attend upon Dichen (a high Daoist deity). Yuzi (a designation for cultivators), together with people of bright virtue, joins in welcoming the worthy. Below I look down on the palaces of the Eight Rivers; above I settle at the summit of Xilin. Drinking sweet dew like purple fine jade, I then know how arduous the roads of the dusty world are. Where after all is the fair one? Only by diligent cultivation can one meet her in intimacy.

Twenty-Three

Mounting the Crimson Towers (the red palaces of the Daoist wonderland), I pass through the high, distant clouds and, clad in red, ascend to Jingfang. Purple banners flutter among the clouds and rosy mists; immortals dance in the morning wind, and the carriage canopy comes to rest; I wash in the jade-green stream and go to Yuezhi Peak to gather numinous and beautiful things. I chew the blossoms of the Three Numinous and breathe out and draw in the light of the Nine Spirits, cultivating long without interruption. Merging with the sun and moon, I accumulate the work of cultivation, and hand in hand with tongmeng (novices who have just entered the Dao) I proceed to Mingzhen Hall, looking up to the Supreme Sovereign. Beigou raises a song to welcome the feathered people; Yuxuan and the assembled worthies are radiant with light.

The wave-like turmoil of the world—why must gain and loss all converge upon me? In the clamorous courtyard I lift my head and gaze afar, opening my heart and yearning for a realm of purity and stainlessness. People become accustomed to comfort amid honor and disgrace, and so rarely set foot in wonderlands such as Xilin Palace. If only one grows still, where is the suffering? Try leaving the dusty world and look upon the realm of Canglang.

Twenty-Four

Though the precious fragrant things of the world are delightful, those who cultivate the Dao meet instead in the wondrous heavenly realm. Arranging my lapels, I seek fellow travelers on the Dao and drive my carriage back amid the dusty world. People of lofty virtue reflect a wondrous radiance; they are outstanding in talent and abundant in splendor. Intimate conversation with one another often brings blessings; they honor empty stillness and treasure the true Dao. One should always accord with the two phenomena of heaven and earth, yin and yang, and join hands with one heart in close companionship. Why be trapped in human quarrels and let worries arise without end?

In my heart I have already agreed with Fuzi, saying that I will go gather the five zhi (legendary immortal herbs). The zhi grasses may not be found, and you may not be able to come; but if you do come, then the zhi grasses can be obtained, and I will share them with you to eat.

12.6: Six Poems in Praise of the Zhihui Jing (Scripture of Wisdom) by the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) Perfected One

One

Those who study to become immortals must cut off their craving for superficial and glittering things, because a ceaseless succession of distracting thoughts will disturb the Shen (spirit) and set it astir. One must eliminate distracting thoughts one by one, let the movements of the mind come to rest, and return to empty quiet and ease; only then can one freely enter the realm of emptiness and stillness. Seeking the Dao (the Way) should be like seeking food and drink when hungry and thirsty: one should hold to one’s resolve, firm as metal and stone. Only then can one protect oneself, soar into the wondrous Dao, and cultivate according to the registers of the Five Spirits for deliverance (Daoist Fulu (talismans and registers) documents concerning deliverance and communication with spirits).

Two

You aid me in cultivating the six practices of deliverance (six kinds of practice that save beings), and so I am able to undo the Sanluo (Three Nets—the net-like obstacles described in Daoism). Through pure fasting and precepts, worship of Taishu (a Daoist high deity or primal state), breathing and breath regulation, and cultivating and refining Yunya (the Daoist term for Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) in health cultivation), one can roam free within the golden palaces and make the Jade Capital (a Daoist paradise) one’s home. The seven treasures arise naturally, and everyone sits on a lotus; looking up, one chews the fruit of Xuandu, and bending down, one takes in the Qi of the empty cavern. With a face radiant as ten suns, why bother counting how many years and kalpas there are? The Dharma drum is struck when the heavenly immortals assemble; the bell sounds and summons the great demons.

Three

The spirit wind blows, fragrant flowers bloom in brilliance, and broad sleeves unfold in the wind. Taizhen (the Great Perfected One) plays the yun’ao (a Daoist celestial-music instrument), and the assembled immortals pluck the spirit zither; in the Three Heavens (the upper realms in Daoism) they sing elegant songs and scatter wisdom’s jade-like radiance through the forest. Because of this, the seven generations of ancestors ascend into the hall of blessing and proceed following this wondrous sound. If one’s accumulated virtue from former lives is insufficient, this Jing (scripture) will be distant and hard to obtain. If the heart that believes in the great Dao is not firm, and one single-mindedly seeks only to fly up, one may instead sink down. The Dao of Taishang’s Wuwei (non-action) is vast, profound, and deep; whether it can be spread depends entirely on your resolve.

Four

In studying the Dao, one should believe in and serve one’s teacher with a heart of sincere devotion, honoring the teacher as one would one’s closest kin; one should pay respects to the deity Jingming, unite with the pure void, and be diligent without slackening, advancing day by day. If the multitude have not yet attained deliverance, in the end I too cannot attain deliverance alone. When one makes a vast vow, there will surely be a profound reward; wondrous De (Virtue/Power) is truly trustworthy. To do evil in secret brings heavy guilt; when requital for cause and effect comes, it turns and cycles without cease, like a wheel.

Five

Studying the Dao is indeed arduous: from morning to night one must establish a field of blessing (the cultivation of accumulated merit). Cultivating De (Virtue/Power) is like planting a tree: when the roots go deep, the fruit will be abundant. If you can focus your mind in admiration of the mysterious Dao, you will drift upward into the clear heavenly realms. In practicing this Dao of Wuwei (non-action), one should form bonds with goodness. Taishang spread the highest Dao and left behind scriptures and chapters of wisdom; relying on great wisdom to pull out suffering, one transcends the world and attains Perfectedhood. The spiritual endowment of a Dao cultivator is rare in the world, radiant like a lotus in deep water.

Six

Human actions each have their roots, all connected to merit accumulated in former lives. One should promptly strive to establish virtue and make vows to do good. Good and evil both bring corresponding results; they depend on and transform into one another, and the principle involved is inexhaustible. The wise carry out the scriptures and methods, understanding that Dao and De lie in Jianwang (forgetting both—not clinging to distinctions, gain, or loss). To be able to understand this is great wisdom; such a person can become, above, a Taiji Gong (Lord of Taiji). Treasure...

The jade carriage (the jade vehicle ridden by immortals) was ordered to set out, drawn by nine dragons. Jinhua held the Dongjing (Cavern Scripture) and attended with incense. The immortal youths gave long cries and sang, their voices carrying through Xuandu (the palaces of the immortal realm). They sounded jade pendants and struck jade bells.

This is the sixth passage.

Yunji Qiqian, scroll 98.