《坐忘論》

Interpretation of the Zuowang Lun (Treatise on Sitting in Forgetfulness)

The Zuowang Lun, authored by Sima Chengzhen (courtesy name Ziwei), begins by stating that the most precious thing for a human being is life, and the most precious aspect of life is the "Dao (the Way)." A person possessing the Dao is like a fish in water. Yet, in reality, people are like fish trapped in a dried-up rut, desperately longing for a single ladle of water, or like ordinary folk who have lost their true nature—though they detest the suffering of life and death, they remain mired in it, valuing the empty reputation of virtue while neglecting its actual practice. This inversion of priorities is utterly absurd.

Deeply troubled by the confusion of the world, the author distills from the classics seven stages of cultivation aligned with the methods of mind cultivation:

First Stage: "Reverence and Faith"

Sincerity is the foundation of the Dao, and reverence is the root of De (Virtue/Power). Just as the priceless He Shi Jade cost Bian He his feet, or as loyal advice that could save a nation brought disaster upon Wu Zixu, we see how easily people are misled by appearances. How much more so when the great Dao transcends form and color, and true nature lies beyond desire? Those who hear of the profound Dao and believe without doubt are exceedingly rare. If someone hears of the method of "sitting in forgetfulness" and deeply trusts it as the key to cultivation, practicing it with devotion, they will surely attain the Dao. Zhuangzi said, "Forget the limbs, discard intelligence, detach from form and knowledge, and merge with the great Dao"—this is sitting in forgetfulness. Sitting in forgetfulness means forgetting both the internal and the external: within, one is unaware of one’s own existence; without, one knows nothing of the universe. One becomes one with the Dao, and all thoughts dissolve. Sadly, the ignorant hear but do not believe, like someone carrying treasure yet searching for riches elsewhere. The scriptures say, "When faith is insufficient, doubt arises." If one lacks even basic trust, how can they hope to reach the great Dao?

Second Stage: "Severing Connections"

Severing connections means cutting off the entanglements of worldly affairs. Abandoning mundane tasks keeps the body from exhaustion, and practicing Wuwei (non-action) allows the spirit to naturally settle. The simpler one’s life, the fewer worldly burdens they bear; the farther one withdraws from society, the closer they draw to the Dao. The scriptures state, "Block the gates of desire, and you will be free from worry for life." Yet some flaunt their talents to seek patronage, others use weddings and funerals as occasions for socializing, and still others pose as recluses while actually chasing fame—these are not true cultivation.

The Zuowang Lun (Treatise on Sitting in Oblivion) discusses methods for gathering the mind and eliminating distracting thoughts during Daoist cultivation. The text presents several key points:

The first section emphasizes severing worldly social engagements. When others invite you to banquets or seek closeness through various means, these are utilitarian interactions that hinder cultivation. As the Daode Jing states, those constantly occupied with social affairs and busywork will never achieve proper cultivation in their lifetime. The optimal attitude is this: when others take initiative, do not accommodate them. This allows old ties to naturally dissolve while preventing new attachments from forming, gradually creating the tranquility needed for focused practice. The Zhuangzi advises handling worldly interactions by "neither actively accommodating nor refusing," and approaching tasks by "not scheming deliberately, not forcing outcomes, and not flaunting cleverness." For unavoidable obligations, complete them without lingering attachment afterward.

The second section highlights the mind's paramount importance. The mind serves as the body's sovereign and the spirit's commander. A tranquil mind generates wisdom, while a disturbed mind leads to confusion. People often become deluded by illusions, mistaking the false for real; they crave worldly pleasures without realizing their fundamental emptiness. Just as one selects favorable neighbors when choosing a residence and virtuous companions when forming friendships, cultivation requires distancing the mind from the afflictions of life and death, anchoring it instead in supreme truth. Therefore, beginners should first practice quiet sitting to gather the mind, abandoning all distracting thoughts to enter a state of emptiness (Wu). Only then can the mind unite with the Dao (the Way). Scriptures state: The realm of ultimate truth is profoundly empty and non-objective—such is the mind's original nature.

The third section explains the principles of mind cultivation. The human mind originally aligns with the Dao, but prolonged contamination by desires severs this connection. Clearing mental defilements to restore the original mind constitutes cultivation. Stabilizing the mind within the Dao is called "returning to the root" (guigen), while maintaining this state is termed "tranquil stability" (jingding). Through prolonged tranquil stability, illnesses vanish and vital energy (Qi) regenerates, enabling comprehension of eternal truth. Understanding truth brings liberation from life and death. Thus the essential method involves keeping the mind free from attachments. Scriptures state: All things ultimately return to their source—this return constitutes tranquility, within which original nature is restored. Restoring nature reveals eternity, and comprehending eternity embodies wisdom. However, one must avoid deliberately pursuing emptiness, as this creates new attachments that weary the mind. Such forced efforts contradict the Dao and may even cause adverse effects.

This passage elucidates the essential method for regulating the mind during the practice of "sitting in oblivion" (zuowang, a meditative technique of quiet sitting and self-forgetting):

When the mind does not cling to external things and remains unwavering, this becomes the true foundation of stability. Cultivating stillness through this method harmonizes the Qi (vital energy), and with sustained practice, one will gradually experience increasing ease and clarity—this serves as the criterion for discerning the correctness of one's practice.

If one forcibly suppresses every arising thought without distinguishing right from wrong, they will fall into a dull, benighted stillness. If one indulges random thoughts without restraint, they become no different from an ordinary person. Merely severing thoughts of good and evil without clear direction, allowing the mind to drift aimlessly in hopes it will settle on its own, only leads to self-delusion.

The proper approach is this: quell wandering thoughts without extinguishing awareness; maintain stillness without clinging to emptiness. Persisting in this way, genuine insight will naturally arise. When encountering specific matters or doubts about key points of practice, one may engage in appropriate reflection—but once the matter is resolved or the doubt dispelled, cease thinking. This measured contemplation is the root of wisdom, yet one must stop upon understanding, as excessive thinking harms the innate tranquility of one's nature.

For distracting thoughts that disturb the spirit, dismiss them immediately upon noticing. Upon hearing praise, blame, or judgments of good and evil, release them at once—do not let the mind be occupied by these. When the mind is cluttered, the Dao (the Way) cannot dwell within. Treat what you see and hear as if unseen and unheard, preventing judgments of right and wrong from entering the mind.

A mind unaffected by external circumstances is called "empty mind" (xuxin); a mind that does not chase external objects is called "settled mind" (anxin). When the mind is settled, empty, and still, the Dao will naturally come to reside. As the scriptures say: If one can empty the mind and practice Wuwei (non-action), not deliberately seeking the Dao, the Dao will instead return of its own accord. When the inner mind holds no attachments and outward actions bear no affectation—not striving for purity nor rejecting defilement—then praise and blame find no footing. Neither flaunting wisdom nor feigning foolishness, gain and loss cannot disturb.

Practice should follow the Middle Way: in essence, constantly abide in centrality; in application, adapt flexibly to circumstances. The ability to avoid all burdens is true wisdom. If one forces thought and action at inappropriate times or over unnecessary matters while claiming non-attachment, this is not genuine practice. Why? Because the method of mind is like the eye—a single speck of dust causes discomfort, and minor preoccupations unsettle the mind. When the mind suffers from restless afflictions, entering stillness becomes difficult. Thus, the essential key to cultivating the Dao lies first in eliminating mental afflictions—without removing them, true stillness remains unattainable. Just as good seedlings cannot flourish in a field overrun by thorns, so too will the mind fail to thrive if entangled by craving, fixation, and rumination—the thorns of the heart that must be uprooted.

This passage from the Zuowang Lun (Treatise on Sitting in Oblivion) discusses common pitfalls and correct methods in spiritual practice, explained in plain terms:

Some people may enjoy wealth and status or be well-read, preaching compassion and frugality with their words while acting greedily and cruelly. They skillfully gloss over their faults with eloquent speech, bullying others while claiming credit for themselves and blaming others for mistakes. This is the most stubborn affliction—no amount of learning helps, because they always consider themselves right. Such a mind constantly depends on external circumstances, unaccustomed to independence; once deprived of its supports, it grows restless, and even if temporarily calm, soon scatters again.

The correct approach is this: whenever distracting thoughts arise, immediately restrain them, practicing diligently until the mind naturally settles. Whether day or night, moving or still, sitting or handling affairs, maintain constant awareness. Once the mind is settled, carefully nurture this state, avoiding disturbances. Even fleeting moments of stability will gradually reveal the joy of clarity, making past attachments seem crude and laughable—how much more so when the wisdom born from concentration sees through truth and falsehood?

Just as oxen and horses, though domesticated, become wild without restraint, or hawks and falcons, though wild birds, grow tame under human care, the mind, if indulged without discipline, only grows more scattered—how then can it comprehend the profound? As the scriptures say: "Better than offering jade and fine steeds is to sit quietly and cultivate this Dao." The wonder of practice lies in doing, not empty talk; only through realization does one truly know—otherwise, it's mere delusion.

Modern seekers of the Dao often prize obscurity: if someone speaks of vague, incomprehensible methods, they marvel at its "unfathomable depth" and prostrate in reverence. Yet when someone points directly to the essence, explaining it clearly and practically, they dismiss it as shallow. As the scriptures state: "My words are easy to understand and easy to practice, yet the world neither understands nor practices them." It's like claiming "fire isn't hot" or "lamps don't illuminate darkness"—fire exists to warm, lamps to light, yet some expound "fire isn't hot" while daily warming themselves by it, or declare "lamps don't illuminate" yet light them nightly. Such paradoxes, contradicting common sense, are hailed as profound mysteries, enough to baffle even a sophist like Hui Shi (a Warring States logician).

(Note: "Sitting in Oblivion" (zuòwàng) is a Daoist meditation method for attaining the state of forgetting self and phenomena; "breaking forms" (pòxiàng) means transcending attachment to appearances.)

Zhuangzi believed that superficial people are utterly incapable of comprehending the true meaning of the Dao. Those who genuinely seek the Way often go unnoticed by the mundane world. Some say: Those who pursue the Dao should dwell among all things yet remain uncontaminated, act without mental disturbance, and appear to practice wuwei (non-action) while maintaining constant inner tranquility. Nowadays, some deliberately withdraw from worldly affairs seeking peace, avoid action to attain stability, and exhaust themselves controlling movement and stillness—only to become trapped in dualistic attachments that oppose action and stillness, clinging stubbornly to certain states. This plunges them into the dichotomy of grasping and rejecting. Unaware they're already bound by external attachments, they mistake this for the essence of cultivation—how absurd!

The response is: That which encompasses all things is called "great"; that which penetrates all things is called the "Dao." To remain uncontaminated while dwelling among all things, to engage with worldly matters without mental disturbance—this is true greatness and profound mystery. Why do I say your understanding remains insufficient? It's like admiring the splendor of embroidered silk while ignoring its plain white threads, or marveling at a crane's cry echoing through the heavens while forgetting it began as a fledgling pecking for food. The towering tree that blocks the sky grew from a sapling; supreme sagehood accumulates through prolonged cultivation. Modern people idly discuss sage virtue while ignorant of the methods to attain it—like expecting a rooster at the sight of an egg, or imagining roasted fowl when seeing a slingshot. How impatient! Thus the Daode Jing states: "Mysterious De (Virtue) runs deep and vast, opposing worldly pursuits—only then can true harmony be achieved."

Chapter Four: Simplifying Affairs

Human existence inevitably involves engaging with myriad matters, yet the world's affairs are too numerous for any individual to shoulder. A bird building its nest needs but one branch—it doesn't covet the entire forest; a beast quenching its thirst drinks only its fill—it doesn't crave the whole river. Externally, one must understand the principles of all things; internally, one must know one's fundamental role. Recognizing life's limits prevents forcing what lies beyond one's capacity; understanding matters have their measure avoids inappropriate responsibilities. Undertaking unsuitable tasks drains the mind; excessive pursuits harm body and spirit. If even the body finds no peace, how can one speak of cultivating the Dao? Therefore, Dao cultivators must prioritize simplifying affairs, distinguishing primary from secondary, knowing what to embrace and discard. All unnecessary and unimportant matters should be severed. Consider how people indulge in fine wines and meats, adorn themselves in splendid robes, occupy prestigious positions, and hoard gold and jade—these are but attachments to desires, not true medicines for nurturing life. The masses chase after them, only to meet ruin. Reflect calmly—what folly! Zhuangzi said: Those who comprehend life's true essence don't pursue what life doesn't need. The unneeded refers precisely to external things. Coarse tea and simple fare, plain clothing—these suffice.

The Zuowang Lun (Treatise on Sitting in Forgetfulness) expounds principles for self-cultivation:

On material needs:

Does nourishing life truly require fine wines, delicacies, or silken robes to preserve one's vital essence (Jing)? Therefore, discard all things useless to life's cultivation, and relinquish even necessities when they become excessive. Accumulated wealth injures the body—even small amounts burden us, let alone excess. Using the legendary Suihou Pearl to shoot sparrows would invite ridicule—how much more foolish are those who violate the Dao (the Way), neglect their vital nature, and pursue useless things that only bring suffering?

On fame versus virtue:

Comparing worldly fame to De (Virtue/Power), fame proves transient and base while De remains authentic and precious. Understanding this hierarchy of value clarifies proper choices—never damage your body for empty reputation, nor alter your aspirations for status. As the Zhuangzi states: "Those who chase fame lose themselves—they are not true practitioners." The Xisheng Jing (Scripture of Western Ascension) teaches that only by guarding the primordial Qi (vital energy) can one transcend worldly existence.

On cultivation attitude:

Those still clinging to official rank or reputation exhaust themselves with worldly affairs, hindering spiritual progress. Genuine adepts move through life with undisturbed serenity, unburdened by external things. Claiming transcendence before achieving it is self-deception.

On "True Observation" (Zhen Guan):

True Observation is the sage's foresight—the ability to discern omens of fortune and misfortune. From eating and sleeping to speech and action, every detail affects cultivation. Rather than clever manipulations of peripheral matters, focus steadfastly on the root. Only by minimizing distractions and purifying the heart-mind (Xin) can one comprehend the Dao. The Daode Jing says: "Constantly without desire, observe its mysteries."

On clothing and food:

Practitioners require basic sustenance, yet must maintain detachment. Like using a boat to cross the sea—abandon it upon reaching shore. Never grow agitated while securing necessities, for such irritation reveals an unsettled mind. Material things are mere instruments; the true goal is transcending their bondage through them.

(Notes: "Suihou Pearl" refers to a legendary jewel; Xisheng Jing is a key Daoist scripture; "Embracing the Origin and Guarding the One" denotes fundamental Daoist cultivation methods.)

The Zuowang Lun (Treatise on Sitting in Oblivion) expounds the principle of relinquishing attachments and seeing through illusions in spiritual practice. Its core message conveys:

When dealing with external matters, avoid anxiety over gain and loss. Whether circumstances arise or not, maintain inner tranquility. You may pursue material things like others, but not with their greed; you may accept external objects, but not hoard them. Without greed there will be no worry, without hoarding there will be no loss. Outwardly resembling others in action while maintaining a completely different inner state—this is the essence of cultivation.

For desires difficult to relinquish, employ wisdom to contemplate them. For instance, those obsessed with lust should realize: so-called beauty is merely a product of deluded thoughts. Without arising delusions, where would beauty exist? As scriptures state, "Form is identical to thought," and even this "thought" itself is empty. Seductive beauty is more dangerous than fox spirits—while people detest and avoid fox spirits that harm them, thus avoiding evil rebirths, beauty ensnares people, leading to hell realms through depraved thoughts after death. Scriptures warn, "Spouses in this life may not regain human form in the next"—precisely this truth.

Consider further perspectives: If beauty were truly beneficial, why do fish dive deep and birds soar high at its sight? Immortals perceive it as filth, sages compare it to axes. Humans can fast for seven days, yet abstaining from lust for a century prolongs life. Clearly beauty harms body and mind—why cling to it?

When witnessing others' misdeeds, refrain from generating aversion. Like someone committing suicide—would you take their knife to cut yourself? Others' wrongdoing belongs to them; why transform their evil into your affliction? Similarly, avoid clinging to good deeds, as both obstruct the Dao.

Regarding poverty, adopt rational understanding: Heaven and Earth treat all things impartially; parents universally wish success for children; spirits barely manage their own affairs—poverty stems neither from cosmic injustice, parental failure, nor spirit persecution. Careful examination reveals poverty originates from self-created karma (action-consequence), constituting heavenly mandate. Since karma arises from mind, understanding this brings peaceful acceptance of circumstances.

Fate is determined by Heaven, and the relationship between karma (the consequences of one's actions) and destiny is like a shadow following the body or an echo responding to sound. Since it cannot be avoided, there is no need for complaint. Only the wise can accept it with equanimity, finding joy in Heaven's will and understanding fate. Thus, they remain free from sorrow—why should poverty trouble them?

Zhuangzi said: Once karma is formed, it cannot be cast off, for it arises from one's own deeds. Therefore, when poverty and illness entangle you, there is no one else to blame. The scriptures say: "Heaven and Earth cannot alter a person's integrity, nor can Yin-Yang reverse one's karma." From this, we see that this is the true nature of fate—not caused by external factors. What is there to resent?

Just as a brave warrior, encountering bandits, feels no fear but instead brandishes his sword to scatter the foes, achieving merit that brings lifelong glory—so too should we regard poverty and illness as bandits assailing us. Right mindfulness is our warrior, wisdom our sword to cut through delusions, the dispelling of afflictions our victory, and the peace and joy of a purified mind our reward. If suffering comes yet we fail to apply this wisdom, instead giving rise to sorrow, it is like meeting bandits not with courage but by casting aside armor and fleeing, only to suffer punishment in the end. How pitiful that would be!

When afflicted by illness, one should understand: sickness exists because of this body. Without the body, illness would have no foothold. The scriptures say, "When I have no body, what is left to trouble me?" Delving deeper, observe that within the mind, there is no true master to be found. Searching inwardly and outwardly, no enduring subject of suffering exists—all afflictions arise from deluded thoughts. If one can become like withered wood, with a heart like dead ashes, all illness will vanish.

If fearing death, reflect thus: This body is merely a dwelling for the Shen (spirit). Now that it grows old and frail, like a crumbling house unfit for habitation, naturally the spirit must depart to seek another abode. The death of the body and the spirit's departure follow the same principle. Clinging to life and resisting death violates the natural order, leading to confusion of the spirit, loss of the true path, and rebirth amid turbid energies rather than clarity. All this stems from ignorance and craving.

If one can live without attachment and face death without resistance, two realizations arise: First, seeing through the sameness of life and death; second, accumulating virtuous karma for future rebirth. Clinging to worldly things makes every attachment a source of suffering—just as an ailment in one part affects the whole body, how much more so when the heart is filled with countless cravings? How, then, could one hope for immortality?

All love and hatred arise from delusion. Unresolved accumulated delusions obstruct the realization of Dao. Therefore, one must relinquish desires and abide in desirelessness, gradually clearing away entrenched attachments.

This passage from the Zuowang Lun (Treatise on Sitting in Oblivion) elucidates the state of "supreme stillness" (taiding) in spiritual cultivation and the proper application of wisdom.

The text begins with an analogy: only by transcending one's habitual environment can one perceive truth clearly. Just as a sober person recognizes the folly of a drunkard while the intoxicated remains unaware, so too do most people fail to see their own delusions. Quoting Laozi, it observes that worldly pleasures of sound and beauty are actually roots of transgression—those drowning in desire are like fishmongers who no longer notice the stench of their trade.

"Supreme stillness" represents the pinnacle of Daoist practice, where the body becomes like withered wood and the mind like cold ashes, utterly free from agitation or craving. Zhuangzi's saying, "When the cosmic vessel (yu) attains supreme stillness, it emits celestial radiance (tianguang)," reveals that when consciousness reaches profound tranquility, innate wisdom—an emanation of one's original nature, not acquired knowledge—spontaneously manifests. Human confusion stems from greed, but through purification practices that cleanse distracting thoughts, one recovers this fundamental clarity.

A crucial emphasis follows: while cherishing awakened wisdom, one must refrain from flaunting it. Attaining wisdom is less challenging than wielding it without misuse. Just as maintaining humility amidst wealth preserves prosperity, abiding in stillness while keeping wisdom inwardly contained constitutes genuine cultivation. Zhuangzi remarked, "Knowing the Dao is easy; not speaking of it is hard." Ancient adepts emulated heaven's way (natural non-action/wuwei), never parading their understanding like ordinary people.

The passage concludes by critiquing false attainment: those who use discernment to debate doctrines, obsess over worldly affairs while claiming "tranquility amid activity," or mistake intellectual brilliance for realization remain distant from true supreme stillness. Their cleverness, though impressive, only leads them further from the Dao.

(Note: Zuowang—"sitting in oblivion"—is a key Daoist method of achieving unity with the Dao through meditative absorption; taiding denotes profound meditative stability; tianguang symbolizes primordial wisdom.)

This passage elucidates the essentials of cultivating the Dao and nurturing one's nature, with its core lying in the practice of "sitting in oblivion" (zuowang, serene meditation where self is forgotten).

Cultivating the Dao is like hunting—you may set out chasing a deer but unexpectedly catch a rabbit instead. Though the gain seems small, it is precious. Zhuangzi said ancient Dao cultivators used tranquility to nurture wisdom, yet refrained from deliberately employing the wisdom once attained. This is called "using wisdom to nourish serenity." When wisdom and serenity mutually nurture each other, harmony is achieved.

Tranquility brings concentration (focused power), while wisdom brings enlightenment. Possessing wisdom yet not misusing it, abiding in serenity—over time, one naturally attains virtue (De). Some awaken upon seeing the harm behind benefits; others restrain their minds fearing calamity. Letting go of attachments and clearing accumulated habits, when one's nature becomes refined, all return to stillness, just like the natural state.

At this stage, thunder splitting mountains won't startle you, swords at your throat won't frighten you. Fame and wealth appear as passing clouds; life and death are seen like bursting boils. With undivided focus, the spirit (Shen) becomes concentrated. The mind's mystery is beyond comprehension: formless yet swiftly responsive; anger can make arrows pierce stone, resentment can bring frost in summer. When doing evil, hell is at hand; when doing good, heaven isn't far.

The Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Laozi, Daoism's highest deity) saves people through eternal goodness, ascending the Spirit Terrace (lingtai, heart-mind) to expound wondrous teachings. Cultivation should progress step by step, reducing artificial effort, yet also include moments of sudden awakening to return to natural non-action (Wuwei). Like drawing a bow requires mastering essentials, spiritual practice demands perseverance until reaching the "sitting in oblivion" state: senses withdrawn, body relaxed, perceiving subtlety in stillness, penetrating truth.

The seventh section on attaining the Dao states: The Dao is a miraculous existence—spiritual yet formless, coming and going without trace. Since ancient times, sages attained the Dao, and their wondrous methods endure. For sincere practitioners, the Dao will descend. It gradually transforms form and spirit, making the body communicate with the Dao and unite with the primordial spirit (Yuanshen). This is the realm of the "divine person"—where the primordial spirit is empty, tranquil, and transcends life-death transformations.

(Note: "Three Pure Ones" (Sanqing) refers to the highest Daoist deities—Jade Pure, Upper Pure, and Supreme Pure; "Nine Darknesses" (jiuyou) signifies hell; "Spirit Terrace" (lingtai) denotes the heart-mind)

This scripture passage discusses how Daoist practitioners attain unity with the Dao through the practice of "sitting in oblivion" (zuowang, the meditative method of sitting in forgetfulness). The core teaching states:

When a person becomes one with the Dao, they transcend the boundaries of life and death. In concealment, their physical form becomes like divine spirit; in manifestation, their essence (shen) merges with vital energy (qi). Those who reach this state can enter water without drowning, walk through fire without burning, cast no shadow beneath sun or moon, and completely master their own life and death.

The Scripture of Life's Spirit (Sheng Shen Jing) teaches that the unity of body and mind is essential for attaining immortality, while the Western Ascension Scripture (Xi Sheng Jing) similarly states that only through the union of form and spirit can one achieve longevity. However, cultivation realms vary in depth: advanced practitioners attain the marvelous state of "divine form and spirit" (called shenren, divine person), while those at shallower levels may gain wisdom but still experience physical decay. This occurs because excessive intellectual exertion depletes vital essence (jing) and qi, ironically hastening death. The scripture's mention of "corpse liberation" (shijie, where the physical body dies while the spirit attains immortality) refers precisely to this condition.

Therefore, genuine Dao-realized individuals restrain their brilliance, practicing "concentrating spirit and treasuring qi" (ningshen baoqi) until their heart-mind fully unites with the Dao. The ancients valued spiritual cultivation precisely because it protects practitioners from calamities. Just as jade hidden in mountains keeps vegetation evergreen, a heart imbued with the Dao preserves the physical form. Through prolonged cultivation, the fleshly body transforms into a subtle state of Dao-union.

The Western Ascension Scripture states: "Being of one heart with heaven eliminates the need for forced knowledge; sharing substance with the Dao transcends physical constraints." When all six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) connect with the Dao, one gains omniscient vision and hearing. Unfortunately, many today only grasp the superficial concept of abandoning the physical form without understanding the profound mystery of attaining immortality within this very body—like summer insects incapable of comprehending ice and snow.

This passage particularly emphasizes:

1. The importance of dual cultivation of form and spirit (xingshen shuangxiu)

2. The necessity of gradual progress in cultivation, avoiding impatient pursuit of quick results

3. That genuine Dao-realization involves holistic elevation of both body and mind, not mere pursuit of supernatural powers

4. The common modern misconception of severing the body-mind relationship in spiritual practice

To cultivate the Dao and attain authenticity, one must first eliminate improper conduct and sever external distractions, preventing them from disturbing the inner mind. Then, sit upright in meditation, turn inward in contemplation, and maintain right mindfulness. When distracting thoughts arise, eliminate them immediately—dispelling them as they emerge—ensuring the mind remains tranquil. Furthermore, even if no obvious greed or attachments are present, all floating, aimless thoughts must be completely dissolved. Practice diligently day and night without pause.

Two key concepts are emphasized here: the "wandering mind" (distracted thoughts and delusions) must be extinguished, but the "illuminating mind" (awareness that contemplates one's true nature) must not be destroyed. The mind should reach a state of emptiness, yet not fall into "stubborn emptiness" (a lifeless, insensate state). This practice does not rely on external objects yet sustains the constancy of mind—a profound and wondrous method with far-reaching benefits. Unless one has cultivated karmic affinity from past lives and possesses unwavering faith, it is difficult to truly believe in and value this approach.

The scripture warns: Though one may recite these words, discernment between truth and falsehood is still necessary. For sensory pleasures can delude the mind, heretical views can distort hearing, the habit of "self and other" (ego-attachment) is deeply rooted, and the grave illness of self-righteousness severs the connection between mind and Dao, making it hard to comprehend the truth. If someone sincerely aspires to the Great Dao, deeply revering and yearning for it, they must first accept three precepts and uphold them unwaveringly to attain the true Dao.

The three precepts are:

1. Simplify External Ties: Reduce unnecessary social interactions and affairs.

2. Eliminate Desires: Abandon greed and craving.

3. Calm the Mind: Maintain inner stillness.

By diligently practicing these precepts without negligence, even without consciously seeking the Dao, the Dao will naturally manifest. The scripture states: If one can empty the mind and practice non-action (Wuwei), not striving for the Dao, the Dao will return of its own accord. Thus, this concise and essential method of cultivation is truly trustworthy and precious.

However, ordinary people have long been accustomed to restless and competitive minds, making it genuinely difficult to pacify thoughts through precepts. Sometimes, forced stillness lacks proper guidance, or temporary calm is quickly lost—this back-and-forth struggle may even cause one to break into a sweat. Only through persistent practice will the mind gradually soften and stabilize. Do not abandon cultivation just because progress seems slow.

When slight stillness is achieved, maintain awareness in all activities—walking, standing, sitting, lying—even amid noise. Whether occupied or unoccupied, sustain a state of "no-mind"; whether in silence or clamor, keep the will unified. Yet take care: restraining the mind should not be overly forceful, as excessive urgency may lead to problems such as disordered Qi, agitation, or dullness. Once the mind stabilizes, learn to relax appropriately—balancing tension and ease naturally. Restraint should not be rigid; relaxation should not be indulgent. Remain undisturbed in noise and untroubled by affairs—this is true meditative stability.

But remember: Do not deliberately seek more tasks simply because you are undisturbed by them, nor intentionally expose yourself to noise just because you remain unmoved. Regard the state of "no-affairs" as genuine stability, and respond to circumstances with adaptive function—like a mirror or still water, reflecting objects as they come and clearing when they depart.

The Zuowang Lun (Discourse on Sitting in Forgetfulness) discusses the relationship between meditative absorption (deep contemplative states) and the emergence of wisdom, along with the characteristic stages of physical and mental transformation in cultivation practice:

On the relationship between absorption and wisdom:

While skillful methods can facilitate the arising of wisdom through absorption, one must not force the pace. Seeking wisdom too eagerly during meditative states disrupts concentration, and without stable absorption, genuine wisdom cannot emerge. True wisdom arises spontaneously when not deliberately pursued—this profound wisdom remains deeply concealed, appearing outwardly as simple-mindedness. Only when absorption and wisdom mutually support each other can the supreme state be attained. If distracted thoughts arise during absorption, they may conjure various illusions (even visions of deities like Laozi may simply be hallucinations).

Key principles for cultivating absorption:

• Maintain mental clarity and emptiness, free from attachment to any phenomena
• Eliminate past karmic obstructions while refraining from creating new karma
• Through sustained practice, one naturally transcends worldly bondage

Stages of transformation in cultivation:

Five phases of mental transformation:

1. Frequent thoughts with little stillness

2. Equal balance between movement and stillness

3. Predominance of stillness with occasional mental movement

4. Ability to remain still when undisturbed, though events may still cause ripples

5. Complete unity of mind with the Dao, undisturbed by external circumstances (only upon reaching this stage does one attain true peace)

Seven physical manifestations:

1. Graceful demeanor and serene countenance

2. Healing of chronic ailments, experiencing physical lightness

3. Restoration of primordial Qi (vital energy) and revitalization of life force

4. Extension of lifespan to a thousand years (called "immortal" or xianren)

5. Refining the physical form into Qi (called "perfected person" or zhenren)

6. Refining Qi into spirit (called "spirit person" or shenren)

7. Merging spirit with the Dao (called "supreme person" or zhiren)

Final reminders:

• Deeper practice brings sharper insight
• If prolonged absorption practice doesn't manifest these five mental phases and seven physical signs, the cultivation lacks authentic attainment
• Claims of enlightenment without corresponding verification are merely empty words

(Note: "Karma" refers to cause-and-effect retribution, while "zhenren/shenren/zhiren" designate different stages of realization in Daoist cultivation.)