《雲笈七籤》Vol. 99

Interpretation

Fei Xuanzhen was a Daoist priest at Xingtang Abbey in Shuangliu County, Chengdu. In the late Dazhong era, a Daoist priest who called himself Haozi came to the abbey and stayed for more than a year. He cultivated his Qi (vital energy) and breath, did not eat ordinary food, and occasionally drank wine; he was free and spontaneous by nature and had nothing he deliberately sought.

One day Haozi said to Fei Xuanzhen, “I would like to paint a portrait of you. May I?” Fei Xuanzhen laughed and said, “If you want to paint a true person, you must first paint yourself.” So Haozi did as he said: he took a mirror, looked at his own appearance, moistened his brush, and painted. The likeness was extremely lifelike, and he finished quickly. Then he personally inscribed an encomium and two poems and left them for Fei Xuanzhen. In writing these encomiums and poems, he did not labor over their composition.

The encomium read:

Haozi knows that his talent and virtue are insufficient, yet he follows Heaven’s mandate and acts according to his nature. He esteems the mysterious and the plain, and is content with poverty. He has crossed many mountains and ridges, roaming freely alone. His study of the Dao (the Way) is not yet fully clear, but he cultivates his physical form and preserves his spirit. He makes mountains and waters his home, and his own body and shadow his companions. He wears coarse cloth, ties a straw rope at his waist, and wears a deerskin hat and a gauze scarf. He eats pine nuts and drinks spring water, traveling from Shu to Qin. The Great Dao is deep and unfathomable—who, after all, is my teacher? His heart turns toward the dusty world, thinking of those who dwell in it, and he also looks up to the honored guests who dwell high in the immortal realms. His mind is broad and open, without a private self, as if he were intimate with the formless and imageless Dao.

A poem said:

All day he stays in the thatched hall, often accompanied by clear wind, as if the chessboard were also folded away. No clamor of dusty worldly affairs reaches his ears, yet in his heart is the delight of idly watching the clouds rise. Facing wine, he thinks only of the moon; eating pine nuts, he does not grow weary of mountain life. Often reciting the Neijing Jing (Scripture of the Inner Landscape), a classic of Daoist cultivation, he naturally can retain a youthful face.

The first poem:

This life I make these my livelihood; white stones and green pines are my home. Lying among the clouds facing the moon, free as a wild deer; often buying wine, I get drunk amid mist and rosy clouds.

The second poem:

Wandering alone in purity and quiet, aloof and independent; drinking dew from magnolia flowers, wearing feathers and fur shed by birds and beasts. He does not chase profit in the human world, nor seek fame and praise in the world—such is the Daoist priest who dwells in the mountains.

When he had finished inscribing them, Haozi shook out his clothes, took up his staff, and left; no one knew where he went.

A Poem Bestowed by an Immortal on Bai Yongnian (with Preface)

Bai Zhuangfu, courtesy name Yongnian, was from Hengshan in Hunan. In his youth he had lofty aspirations and practiced the way of immortals. On the Three Primes days (Shangyuan, Zhongyuan, and Xiayuan, the three Daoist festivals) and the Eight Nodes (eight important seasonal nodes or festivals), he would go to the various Daoist temples on Mount Heng to help with burning incense and cultivation.

Collapse ▲

Interpretation

He respectfully paid his respects to his teacher and asked about the profound meaning of the scriptures and the method for realizing the true Dao; his teacher greatly admired this. He exclaimed with feeling: “Some people carry firewood and fetch water, toiling to seek a teacher without ever slackening; thus they learn the elixir texts and the arts of flying paces and examining evil (Daoist arts used to avert and remove evil influences and to distinguish evil from uprightness). After twenty years of practice, he used these skills to relieve the common people, punish demons and evil, and drive away illness; many were helped by him.”

Later, the Chao rebels invaded the capital, the emperor journeyed west, the realm fell into war, and order collapsed. Local strongmen were fierce and violent, set up their own domains without authorization, and did not obey the laws. Yongnian often met with them, expounded the right Way, and used it to admonish and instruct them; many therefore submitted and followed him.

At that time there was a powerful local master whose name has been lost. He had arranged a wife for his son. On the day before the wedding, a youth with more than ten attendants suddenly appeared from nowhere, strode straight into the hall, sat down with his legs sprawled, and angrily cursed: “I was to marry the daughter of a certain family first; why did you take her away?” Everyone was shocked, but no one dared reply. The youth ordered his attendants to bring betrothal gifts such as colored silk, lambs, wild geese, and bronze coins, and handed over one by one the items required for the betrothal; he then wanted to force the girl to marry him. The crowd suspected he was a ghost or monster, and the powerful master could not stop him, so he had to send the fastest runner more than a hundred li to summon Yongnian.

When Yongnian arrived, the youth showed no fear. After a moment, he muttered to himself: “Venerable Master Bai has indeed come.” Then he wept, leaped onto the roof, shouted a few times, and disappeared. All the items he had brought remained. Yongnian distributed these things to the poor and sick, and used the occasion to explain the principle of accordance with the right Way and opposition to it, admonishing that powerful local master. The master realized his mistake, disbanded the men gathered to guard the fort, withdrew his defensive troops, and became an ordinary commoner again. The officials supervising the region and the provincial commanders all praised the matter. Throughout the Xiang River and Mount Heng area, people whether worthy or ordinary praised this master’s virtue and admired his teaching.

One day a woodcutter knocked at the door and said: “In the cliffs of the West Peak, immortals are gathered in conversation; the master may go and see.” Yongnian suspected there might be evil spirits among the mountains and waters, so he carefully observed the woodcutter’s eyes to discern whether he was upright or evil. He was just arranging his clothes to set out when the woodcutter said: “The master’s meritorious cultivation is already manifest, and his name is inscribed in the register of immortals; how would any evil influence dare intrude? But even a difference of a hair’s breadth should not be taken amiss.” With that, he left by another road.

Yongnian, leaning on his staff, went in search. By the time he arrived, it was already dark, and he saw light on the cliff face. Looking closely, he found a poem on the cliff, its ink still wet:

“In clear autumn, with nothing to do, I ride the mist abroad, pressing straight to the edge of heaven.

Hearing the woodcutter’s words, I made an appointment and came.”

Collapse ▲

Interpretation

After Bai Yongnian finished reading, the wall immediately became blank, with not a single character left, and the light vanished with it.

A Poem on Li Gongzuo’s Immortal Servant (with Preface)

After Li Gongzuo passed the jinshi examination, he held office in Zhongling. A servant came from commoner status to work for him, laboring diligently day and night, respectful and cautious. Thirty years passed in this way, and Li Gongzuo still did not know that he was an extraordinary man.

One day the servant told Li Gongzuo that he was about to leave and left behind a poem:

I have a pearl within my clothing,
yet do not resent the dust upon my clothes;
I have the principle of long life,
yet do not weary of having a living body.
In the immortal grottoes of Jiangnan,
I shall merge with their truth;
I do not resent the clamor of the marketplace—
I come to save the people of the world.
The traces of Master Su are already distant;
the affairs of Zhuangmeng are close to my heart.
Do not say the Eastern Sea has changed:
Heaven and Earth possess eternal spring.

In the poem, “the principle of long life” refers to the Dao of longevity; “immortal grottoes” means places suited to cultivating the Dao and becoming immortal. “Master Su,” according to the annotation, refers to Su Dan; “Zhuangmeng” is Li Gongzuo’s courtesy name.

After the servant left, once he had gone out the door, no one knew where he went. The neighbors saw him leap up and depart through the air.

Two Poems Presented to Luan Hunzhi by Shu Haoran and Fan Xuzhou (with Preface)

Mr. Luan was named Qing and had the courtesy name Hunzhi. He was fond of Daoist arts. He and Xu Kan (courtesy name Xuanzhen) of Donghai were fellow Daoists beyond the worldly realm. The two traveled together through Jiangnan and moored their boat by the water. After the rain stopped, a faint breeze came, and they heard a clear, soaring whistling from upstream; together they went upstream to investigate.

They saw two men riding in the same boat, neither rowing with oars nor sculling with a yuloh, simply letting the wind and current carry them. Luan Hunzhi brought his boat alongside to greet them and found on their boat writing brushes, an inkstone, lotus leaves, and wine vessels. On each of two lotus leaves there was writing. Luan Hunzhi joined his boat to theirs and questioned them, but the two guests did not answer. He pressed them again and again; then they smiled, took the lotus leaves, and gave them to him, saying, “Read these poems carefully. Tomorrow you will naturally understand; there is no need to ask me again.”

On one lotus leaf was inscribed “Shu Haoran”; the poem said:

When walking, clouds are my companions;
when sitting, wine is my mate.
My belly is filled with primordial transformation;
my clothes are patched with clouds and rosy mists.
The cruelty of King Zhou and the benevolence of Yao—
alas, both have rotted away.

On the other lotus leaf was inscribed “Fan Xuzhou”; the poem said:

Without relying on oars or sculls,
transcendent, I ride a boat of duckweed.
At morning I float in the glow of the rising sun;
at evening I bathe in the light of the clear moon.
Those who toil ceaselessly after merit—
in the end they become rotten bones, mud, and sand.

After a while, they gave Hunzhi a cup of wine, fragrant and rich. When Hunzhi had finished drinking it, the two guests took their leave. Hunzhi hurriedly rowed after them but could not catch up at all. In an instant, wind and waves suddenly surged, and the two were greatly startled…

Collapse ▲

Interpretation

The boat drifted in the water for a long time before it settled, but everyone could not find where the lotus leaves were. Luan Da had collapsed drunk, and only by evening did they reach the fisherman’s house. At midnight, Luan Da tossed and turned, weeping and crying out for a long time, and then vomited several dou of matter. Mr. Xu quickly rose, lit the lamp, and looked: Luan Da’s five viscera had already rotted black and all fallen to the ground. Yet Mr. Xu stood up joyfully, clapped his hands, and sang:

“Having drunk Master Shu’s wine and boarded Master Shu’s boat,

one can make the spirit body clear and bright, wander transcendent and far,

with a broad, open heart, and no more sorrow.”

After singing, he gave a long, whistling chant; the sound was clear and intense, different from the tones he had learned before.

Several months later, Luan Da said to Mr. Xu, “When I was drunk, I lost the nine-inch mirror I carried with me. Now the Dragon Boat Festival is near, and we have discussed casting another one. We should buy wine and collect the wine money to cover the expenses.” He opened a box, took out two sheng of medicinal powder, mixed it into ten dan of water, and from the yin hour—three to five in the morning—until the wu hour—eleven in the morning to one in the afternoon—it fermented into wine. He loaded the wine onto the boat and sold it along the shore, but no one knew where he went afterward.

Xu Xuanzhen met the traveler Zhu Fang in Jiangbiao, the region south of the Yangtze. Xu Xuanzhen moored the boat and went ashore; before his conversation with Zhu Fang had ended, violent wind and rain suddenly arose. When the rain stopped, Mr. Xu and the boat were both gone. Later, someone saw a drunk man lying in a cliff cave on Mount Lu, embracing a wine vessel. Those who knew Mr. Xu suspected it was him, because he had always loved wine. This was in the fourteenth year of Zhenyuan (798).

Five Lingxiang Ci (Numinous Resonance Lyrics), with Preface

The Daode Jing says: “Look at it and you do not see it; listen to it and you do not hear it; grasp at it and you do not get it.” These words deeply accord with Lord Lao’s intention; they are probably using ordinary people’s daily seeing and hearing as a metaphor. Worldly people are not those who cultivate life and seek the Dao.

Master Yin’s Jiejie Jing says: “One who practices inner observation can see Shen-light, and one cannot say it is not bright. One who practices returning hearing can hear Shen-sounds, and one cannot say they are silent. One who holds fast makes the spirit full and the body whole, and one cannot say this has no form.” All who cultivate the Dao should be able to see forms that cannot be seen, hear sounds that cannot be heard, and grasp what cannot be grasped. Only when all three are accomplished can one be called a person of the Dao.

I have admired Daoist arts for a long time, yet have never achieved any result in practice. Day and night I think about this, and in my heart it is as if I bear thorns. Once, in leisure, I read the Sanqing Jing, which says: “Those who cultivate should enter stillness and concentration, clear the Three Passes, refine and nourish Shen and Qi, and supplement lifespan. Great stillness is three hundred days, middle stillness two hundred days, small stillness one hundred days.” Although I am not intelligent, my resolve is quite urgent, and I hope to receive the aid of the divine Dao.

Collapse ▲

Interpretation

Thus, with the greatest sincerity, he resolved to attempt a period of quiet cultivation himself. In the third year of Kaicheng (the wuwu year), beginning on the first day of the first lunar month, he shut himself away to cultivate, withdrawing from all contact with the outside world, and agreed to leave his quiet chamber only after one hundred days.

During the cultivation, he completely cut off the food of the five grains, yet he continued to regulate and nourish the five Qi within his body—the life-giving vital energy spoken of in Daoism—and fortunately he did not grow thin or weak. He felt neither hunger nor thirst. In less than a month, he felt a divine radiance illumine his eyes, as though the voices of a hundred spirits had gathered at his ears; his spirit was clear and bright, not dull or drowsy. He considered that the appearance of all three of these responses proved that what the immortal scriptures and secret classics said was no empty claim.

He sighed with feeling: if a person does not cultivate in person, he will not understand; and because he does not understand, the scholars of earlier and later times have all dismissed the way of the immortals as absurd and deceptive talk. Such misunderstanding has been handed down from ancient times to the present without cease and seems to have no end. I have been fortunate to be among those who have gained some experience early, and therefore I write these words in order to remove the doubts of later people. I composed five pieces, each of four lines, and present them to those of like aspiration, to record the mysterious and profound experience. The words are as follows:

First

This sound is not a worldly sound;

In my heart I know it is the sound of numinous immortals.

It has never left my ear,

Rising and falling like the cry of autumn cicadas.

Second

After nightfall the sound becomes clear and powerful;

By day it grows faint.

The spirits disperse many evils

And increase my power for me.

Third

This wondrous sound has no moment of rest;

Day and night it cycles without cease.

This is by no means a matter of chance,

But something deliberately sent from the higher realm.

Fourth

How can one discern that this is a verified response?

One must still find the evidence that leads and confirms it.

Ever since this numinous sound descended,

I have felt as though a Zhenren (Perfected One) had come to my side.

Fifth

This single thought remains always in my heart,

While the sound at my ear rolls on without cease.

Beloved cool and crisp night,

I quietly listen to that autumn-cicada-like humming.

Five Buxu (Pacing the Void) Stanzas on the Immortals

First

Floating, I walk up the cloud road,

Entering the high and distant vault in the gloom.

The star palaces grow farther and farther from the human world,

And the years and kalpas seem remote beyond reach.

I look up at the immortals’ lofty virtue and fair faces, yet cannot see their countenances clearly;

In my heart I admire them and long for the divine wind to descend.

I wish to reflect the rosy clouds and ride forth in a carriage,

Burning incense and bowing my head to worship the immortals.

Second

The mysterious wind turns the flying canopy,

And purple Qi encircles the immortal carriage.

Without driving a team, one can float through the air,

And in an instant ascend into the realm of nothingness.

The immortals linger and do not leave, taking pity on the lower world;

Looking back upon the world, they feel compassion for the multitudes.

When the true transformation of the Three Primes (Sanyuan—the three realms of Heaven, Earth, and Water, or the Qi of the Three Primes as spoken of in Daoism) is complete,

They serenely enter the Great Void.

Third

Myriad breaths rise into the air,

A thousand rays of light gather in the Taiwei star region.

From amid the clouds I gaze afar at the canopy,

And in the void I stare at the rosy-cloud garments.

The immortals’ bearing enters the cloud road,

And the full sun wheel flies turning with the wind.

I wish to meet the time when the Three Primes converge,

And let the immortals’ golden countenances return in due season.

Fourth

Auspicious radiance rises as purple Qi;

The road through the clouds leads straight to Cinnabar Heaven.

Scripture banners flutter, fragrant winds circulate,

And the canopy sways with them.

Collapse ▲

Interpretation

Transcending the floating-smoke-like paths of the dusty world, return to the mysterious Dao; within oneself, return to the mysterious and manifest true radiance, yet remain unknown to external things. The great Dao is boundless and ultimately without form; the Dharma-wheel (the wheel symbolizing the law of the Dao's operation) constantly turns of itself. The sound of the great Dao is faint and subtle, impossible to hear with the ears. The mind is idle and serene, waiting for the Three Treasures (Dao, Jing, and Shi as honored in Daoism) to appear; in emptiness and stillness, one hears the Dongjing (Daoist scriptures). Passing through seven transformations, the wandering soul is able to return, and the ten thousand qi coalesce, thereby delaying aging.

IV

Fragrant winds blow upon the feathered canopy; roaming breath carries the swift cloud-chariot. Clear resonant sounds accompany the carriage as it travels the cloud road, penetrating deeply into the vast emptiness. Bearing thoughts for the people of the dusty world, one follows the seasons to transmit the numinous scriptures. May you today perfect wondrous fruit and merge indistinguishably with the Dao of nature.

V

The Azure Youth Celestial Lord constantly intones a verse:

If you wish to plant the root of transcendence beyond life and death, you should pull out the root and stem of life and death. If you merely murmur and sigh, you will ultimately fall into the Nine Springs; if you cling single-mindedly to the body, you will likewise be trapped by life and death because of it.

Composed by the Lady of Nanyue, presented to Senior Official Xu

In the numinous and elegant valley, clear waters coil and return; dwelling among the cliffs, wearing coarse cloth, one may still stand equal to those in dragon-embroidered robes; dressed in plain white, one is as if wearing jade that rings out. Form and spirit roam in the remote and profound realm; the spirit ascends to the court of Great Rosy Clouds. Above the clouds there are terraces of the worthy, and the voices of true beings come through the air. I look up to you riding the morning-flying carriage, and look down upon the turmoil of the dusty world. May you be released from worldly entanglements, transcend the wave-like dusty world, and ascend to this high and subtle realm. Afflictions will ultimately be exhausted, rushing and toil will cease, and the years of life will no longer be consumed by them.

Composed by the Lady of Nanyue

Mysterious resonance extends beyond images, and harmonious sounds respond to one another. Cloud-borne immortal writings gather in the purple celestial court; orchid-scented winds blow upon the cyan carriage. The high immortals (as Daoism calls elevated gods) feast at the jade terrace; far removed from the dusty world, they become models of terrestrial immortals. What is hoped for is transcendence of the ordinary, and only thus can one stand out distinctly. Studying the Eight Simplicities (esoteric texts of Daoist scriptures or transmitted by immortals), when the cultivation is completed, one may enter the high immortal realm. How can the vulgar affairs of the human world be arranged in advance? They only consume your form and primordial qi.

Yunji Qiqian, Volume 99

Collapse ▲