《清庵瑩蟾子語錄》

This dialogue records Qing'an Yingchanzi's discussions with his disciples regarding Chan Buddhist koans, touching upon several renowned Buddhist parables:

Regarding the discussion on "invisibility," the Chan master explains that true invisibility does not mean comprehending emptiness only after the physical form perishes, but rather achieving non-attachment to all things in the present moment, remaining untainted by external phenomena. When practitioners no longer perceive external objects, those objects naturally cease to perceive them—this is genuine invisibility.

In exploring "words failing to convey meaning," the master points out that the highest truth cannot be fully expressed through language. What is called the "final phrase" already encompasses everything, much like using the metaphor "eastward a hundred thousand, northward eight thousand" to describe the boundless vastness of Buddhist scriptures.

When discussing the four divine mantras (great divine mantra, great bright mantra, supreme mantra, and unequaled mantra), the master suggests they correspond to Daoism's "mystery upon mystery" (xuan zhi you xuan) and Confucianism's "true observation and true illumination." Yet the ultimate state remains beyond words.

Particular attention is given to the koan involving Manjusri Bodhisattva and the ignorant Ming Bodhisattva: though Manjusri was teacher to seven Buddhas, he couldn't rouse a woman from samadhi, while Ming, a first-stage bodhisattva, succeeded. The master employs the metaphor "a dog greets a former lodger, crows protect fallen nestlings" to illustrate that spiritual attainment isn't measured by superficial status.

Finally, the imagery of "a mud-snake dances the zhezhi in a well-bottom, window moonlight shines on pear blossoms" hints at transcending conventional thinking. When disciples attempt explanations, the master notes true realization doesn't come through intellectual speculation. These exchanges exemplify the Chan teaching approach of "not establishing words" yet "not abandoning words."

This dialogue records the Chan-style exchanges between Qing'an Yingchanzi and his disciples, demonstrating the Daoist teaching method of "not relying on words, but directly pointing to the original mind."

When a disciple asked whether bulging eyes held deeper meaning, the master responded with "jiao xie zi" (roughly equivalent), suggesting cultivation shouldn't cling to superficial appearances. Discussing the case of two monks rolling up a bamboo screen, the master quoted the Book of Changes: "The benevolent see benevolence, the wise see wisdom," illustrating how enlightenment manifests differently for each individual.

In the discussion about Dharmakāya (the essence of Buddhahood) and Dharma-eye (wisdom perception), Jiashan monk answered with "formless" and "flawless," yet Daowu Zen master considered this incomplete. The master compared it to "the same moon and clouds, different streams and mountains," showing that while truth is singular, its expressions vary.

Explaining Dongshan Liangjie's "Precious Mirror Samadhi," the master outlined five cultivation stages: the upright within the inclined (seeing essence in phenomena), the inclined within the upright (essence manifesting as phenomena), coming from the upright (returning to source), arriving at the inclined (phenomena reaching fullness), and ultimately transcending both (beyond duality). The final state is "forgetting both inclined and upright, only the center remains," though the master reminded that this must be realized through dynamic experience.

When disciples debated "is mind not mind," the master interrupted with a shout (a Chan method to cut through conceptual thinking) and a table slap, hinting at the ineffability of Dao. Regarding the analogy of "thirty spokes converging at the hub," he noted how wheel spokes must unite at the axle to function, just as thirty days form a moon cycle, and all phenomena return to emptiness to reveal true nature.

Finally, interpreting the Dao De Jing's "three in ten belong to life, three in ten belong to death," the master used Yi Jing hexagrams: life represented by Ji Ji (water over fire, yin-yang harmony) and death by Wei Ji (fire over water, yin-yang disharmony), where water's number six plus fire's seven equals thirteen. This reveals life and death fundamentally stem from yin-yang balance. Throughout these exchanges, every pointer directs attention beyond dualistic thinking to the essence of cultivation.

The number thirteen is formed by combining seven and six, as expressed in the ancient saying "Seven and six make thirteen, the spring hues of the moon palace." Some interpret this as the seven emotions and six desires combining to make thirteen—a plausible though forced explanation. Others attempt to interpret it through the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) and Five Phases, which is incorrect. Have you not heard the teaching from the latter part of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue): "The hard and strong are companions of death; the soft and weak are companions of life"? Here, "hard and strong" refers to being driven by anger and desire, while "soft and weak" means restraining anger and curbing desire. When anger and desire arise, they cause fiery Qi to rise and damp Qi to sink, disrupting the balance of water and fire. But if one can sever anger and desire, Yang Qi will descend and Yin Qi will ascend, achieving the harmonious interaction of water and fire. What doubt can there be about this?

A disciple asked: "Is not the space between heaven and earth like a bellows? It seems empty, yet it is inexhaustible. The more it moves, the more comes forth. Can this bellows metaphor reveal the profound mystery of heaven and earth's creative transformations? Please enlighten us, Master." The Master replied: "The tuo (bellows) is a bottomless bag, and the yue (flute) is a three-holed pipe—together they form the bellows used for blowing air. This metaphor illustrates how the supreme emptiness and boundlessness of heaven and earth are contained within it, just as it symbolizes the inherently clear and unobscured nature of the human mind. 'Inexhaustible' describes its expansive and unimpeded quality, while 'the more it moves, the more comes forth' signifies its infinite adaptability."

The disciple asked: "What does 'morning Zhun and evening Meng' mean?" The Master explained: "Using Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li (four of the Eight Trigrams) as the framework, the sixty hexagrams operate and transform within them. Beginning with the Zhun and Meng hexagrams and ending with the Jiji and Weiji hexagrams—this is the law of fire regulation in alchemy. As the alchemical scriptures say: 'Take Qian and Kun as the cauldron and furnace, Kan and Li as the medicinal ingredients, and all the hexagrams as the mechanisms of transformation.' The sixty hexagrams contain three hundred and sixty lines, symbolizing the three hundred and sixty days of the year. The practice begins with Zhun and Meng after the winter solstice and concludes with Jiji and Weiji at the end of the Great Snow solar term. Viewed monthly, Zhun and Meng are used at the beginning of the month, while Jiji and Weiji are employed at the month's end. On a daily scale, Zhun and Meng correspond to the hour of Zi (11 PM–1 AM), and Jiji and Weiji to the hour of Hai (9–11 PM). In terms of cultivation practice, the work of a single moment can capture the seasonal nodes of an entire year—the initial stage is Zhun and Meng, and the completion is Jiji and Weiji. 'Morning Zhun and evening Meng' is the general term for this. Those who understand this principle can complete the celestial cycle in an instant, encompassing all hexagrams within it. This is what the Patriarch meant by 'within the hexagram without lines, Qian and Kun are settled.'"

The disciple asked: "How should we understand 'raising golden geese within a precious vase'?" The Master said: "From the perspective of Wuwei (non-action), this refers to two Chan (Zen) koans; from the perspective of youwei (deliberate action), it describes a stage of cultivation practice."

This passage explores several key concepts and common misconceptions in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. It begins with two Zen koans—Master Zhaozhou's paradoxical answers about whether a dog has Buddha-nature, and the allegory of the goose in a bottle—to illustrate the profound mysteries of inner alchemy cultivation.

When Zhaozhou states the dog both "has" and "lacks" Buddha-nature, he points to a reality beyond dualistic distinctions. Similarly, the goose in the bottle (symbolizing the "sacred embryo" of Neidan) represents how ordinary minds only grasp the literal "broken bottle releases goose" logic, while true cultivation achieves the transcendent state of "goose emerges from unbroken bottle"—the authentic fetal liberation. The metaphors of "jade dog hidden in brocade tent" (referring to true yang energy in the kidneys) and "golden goose nurtured in precious vase" (representing the refined Golden Elixir) capture the essence of internal alchemy.

The text then critiques common practitioner errors: some rashly abandon families to dwell in mountains yet achieve nothing, later regretting; worse are those who treat women's bodies as mere "furnaces" (cultivation tools), mistakenly believing female physiology inherently contains elixirs or viewing the birth canal as a cultivation focal point—grave distortions of ancestral teachings. Patriarch Zhang Ziyang (the renowned Northern Song Neidan master) explicitly warned: "Without attaining true lead, don't retreat to mountains," emphasizing genuine understanding over formal renunciation. Authentic practice manifests as "naturally using the cauldron to refine dragon and tiger" without forcibly discarding household life.

Finally, it explains time's paradoxical role: though cultivation ultimately transcends temporal concepts, practical operations (like gathering medicinal energies) still require precise timing (tunmeng periods marking yin-yang transitions). Just as solar terms demarcate seasonal transitions, adepts must recognize critical junctures. This apparent contradiction embodies the unity of Dao (principle) and shu (method)—simultaneously transcending form while skillfully employing techniques.

This dialogue explores the core temporal concepts and essential principles of Daoist cultivation. It first explains that "the twilight between day and night" refers to the pivotal hours of Yin-Yang transition at Yin hour (3-5 am) and Shen hour (3-5 pm). By comprehending the patterns of day-night alternation, practitioners can grasp the principle of waxing and waning between Yin and Yang; by penetrating the transformations between darkness and light, they may fathom the mystery of life and death. The cultivation secrets of Buddhist and Daoist sages are all embedded within these natural rhythms.

Regarding the Dao's characteristics of being "looked at but unseen, listened to but unheard, grasped at but unfelt," the master explains this shares similarities with The Doctrine of the Mean's teaching to "be cautious over what you don't see and apprehensive over what you don't hear," though the former describes the Dao's essence while the latter concerns cultivation practice. The true wondrous Dao transcends all limitations of sensory perception to reach a state beyond discrimination.

When a disciple asks about the location of the body's internal "Zi hour" (the crucial cultivation period), the master quotes the Daode Jing: "Attain complete vacuity, maintain steadfast stillness," pointing out that when cultivation reaches profound stillness, one naturally perceives the subtle mechanism of Yin-Yang transition within. Concerning the "moment of Gui's birth" (the sign of kidney Qi activation), the master warns that without maintaining stillness, this vital energy will dissipate.

Discussing the典故 of Yuanshi Tianzun (Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning) suspending a precious pearl, the master explains "five zhang above ground" symbolizes transcending the five turbidities (a Buddhist term referring to kalpa-turbidity, view-turbidity, affliction-turbidity, being-turbidity, and lifespan-turbidity), while "within empty mystery" suggests the wondrous state of the spirit entering the numinous. However, the master emphasizes that mere understanding of these symbols is useless without earnest practice.

Finally, regarding the discussion of "Heaven and Earth are not benevolent," the master clarifies: Heaven-Earth and sages aren't unkind, but view all things from the Dao's perspective beyond good-evil distinctions. Though all things appear treated arbitrarily (like sacrificial straw dogs), they actually follow nature's law of returning to the root and restoring life's mandate. This embodies the profound philosophy in the Book of Changes: "The continuous generation of life is what we call change."

This dialogue records a discussion between Qing'an Yingchanzi (a disciple of Bai Yuchan, the fifth patriarch of the Southern School of Daoism during the Southern Song dynasty) and his disciples regarding the core concepts of Daoist philosophy, focusing primarily on the nature of the Dao (the Way) and essential cultivation techniques.

Regarding the statement "Heaven and Earth are not benevolent," the master explains that it means Heaven and Earth treat all things with impartiality, like straw dogs (sacrificial offerings discarded after use). Similarly, sages treat all people equally without personal bias. The "straw dog" here refers to ancient ritual objects that were abandoned after ceremonies, symbolizing the attitude of wuwei (non-action) in nature.

When asked whether Mencius's concept of the "heart-mind of a newborn infant" (pure and unadulterated original mind) aligns with the Daoist idea of returning to simplicity and authenticity, the master replies that they are fundamentally the same—both refer to maintaining one's original, natural state of purity. By doing so, one is not far from returning to the Dao.

Concerning the description of the Dao in the Daode Jing, the master explains that the Dao existed before the formation of Heaven and Earth and is the root of all creation. The "essence of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases" constitutes the substance of the Dao, while its manifested forms and phenomena are its functional expressions.

In discussing the Confucian principle of "being cautious even in unseen places" as a form of self-cultivation, the master uses two analogies: the first two lines illustrate maintaining sincerity even in solitude, while the latter two lines resemble guarding against unexpected disturbances when interacting with others. Just as the Dao operates silently yet truly, one's sincerity will naturally manifest even if not outwardly displayed.

Regarding the prevention of "regret and remorse" (faults and regrets), the master emphasizes vigilance at the subtlest inception of thoughts (the "borderline" moment). The mind should be as firm as an immovable stone, detecting and controlling thoughts as soon as they arise, thereby avoiding future remorse.

Finally, the discussion turns to the Yijing's temporal concepts such as "three days before Jia," pointing out that the hexagram "Gu" (Disorder) represents chaos, with the key being to recognize and prevent problems before they arise. Through these hexagrams, the master illustrates the cultivation wisdom of addressing issues while they are still minor.

This passage consists of two parts: the first discusses governance principles, while the second records a master-disciple dialogue about the Dao (the Way) and cultivation couplets.

The governance section explains: If one fails to perceive disorder before it emerges and only attempts to rectify it after chaos has erupted, though remediation is possible, damage has already been done. The key lies in foresight. "Jia" symbolizes beginnings—detecting signs three days before an event occurs is called "pre-Jia" awareness, while recognizing patterns three days after is "post-Jia" awareness. Like the wind (represented by the fifth yang line of the Xun trigram) that signals celestial mandate shifts, frequent changes in governance decrees erode public trust. One should explain the implications three days before implementing reforms and reiterate guidance three days after, thus gaining people's confidence. "Geng" represents transformation—when things reach their extreme, change becomes inevitable, hence "Geng" embodies the meaning of renewal and reformation.

The master-disciple dialogue explores the nature of the Dao: The master states the true Dao cannot be described in words. When pressed by the disciple, he clarifies: What arises from the primal source of nature is ineffable—this is the "Dao that cannot be spoken"; what manifests through concrete phenomena becomes the "Dao that can be spoken." To comprehend the source requires observing its profundity in a desireless state; to understand worldly phenomena demands conscious examination of their boundaries. Though seemingly different, both share the same origin and are collectively called "the Mysterious" (Xuan).

The passage then documents their cultivation couplet practice: The master proposes "The essence gate, spirit gate, and Qi gate—three gates converge as one," to which the disciple responds "Celestial sounds, earthly sounds, and human sounds—all sounds become clear" (the master later changes "resound" to "clarify"). The disciple offers another pairing: "Civil fire, martial fire, and wisdom fire—all fires achieve completion." When the master presents "Using prior awakening to awaken subsequent awakening," the disciple counters "From outer observation turning to inner observation" (the master suggests replacing "from" with "reverse"). Finally, it mentions how ancient sage-kings would enter spiritual retreat during the winter solstice when "the solitary yang returns"—a time of cosmic renewal. These couplets embody Daoist cultivation practices concerning Jing-Qi-Shen refinement and the interplay between internal and external contemplation.

This dialogue records the discussion between Qing'an Yingchanzi and his disciples on Daoist cultivation principles. First, they explored the relationship between Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wuxing) in the human body: the lungs, which belong to Metal, should naturally descend but instead ascend because they contain the Qi of Yi-Wood; the liver, which belongs to Wood, should naturally ascend but instead descends because it contains the Qi of Geng-Metal. This is analogous to how the Dui trigram (representing Metal) ascends by generating true Fire within Kan-Water, while the Zhen trigram (representing Wood) descends by producing true Water within Li-Fire. In Neidan (internal alchemy) terminology, when lead (associated with Metal) encounters fire, it rises, while mercury (associated with Wood) sinks when meeting water. The same principle applies to celestial movements—the moon (Kan) ascends through fire advancement, while the sun (Li) descends through fire retreat.

The discussion then turned to the "host and guest" relationship, a crucial concept in Daoist Neidan concerning the dynamic between the mind and spirit. Disciple Zhan Zai understood it as: the true self is the host-within-host, while illusions are the guest-within-guest; when nature and emotions intertwine, the nature within emotions becomes the guest-within-host, and the emotions within nature become the host-within-guest. The master acknowledged this interpretation as close but not fully penetrating, pointing out that it should be understood through the lens of movement and stillness: in absolute stillness, the true self emerges (host-within-host); continuous thoughts represent the guest-within-guest; maintaining awareness amidst movement is the guest-within-host; while recognizing after movement constitutes the host-within-guest. This reveals the key to mastering the interplay of Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) during cultivation.

During seated meditation practice, the scattering of the heart-mind (Shen) is the primary obstacle, while distracting thoughts are secondary disturbances.

The master asked: "The Qian hexagram (one of the Bagua, representing heaven) possesses the four virtues of 'Yuan, Heng, Li, Zhen'—how many virtues does the Kun hexagram (representing earth) have?" The disciple replied: "The Kun hexagram also has four virtues." The master said: "This understanding is incomplete. While Kun shares 'Yuan, Heng, Li' with Qian, the meaning of 'Zhen' differs. Kun's virtue of Zhen manifests only through gentle compliance that follows Qian's Yang energy, hence called 'the Zhen of the mare.' The mare symbolizes the quality of moving forward with resilient strength within soft submission."

When asked about the virtues of the Zhun hexagram (one of the 64 hexagrams), the disciple again answered they matched Qian's four virtues. The master corrected: "Though the phrasing is identical, the virtues' essence differs. If truly identical, Zhun couldn't express its symbolism of hardship. 'Yuan-Heng' signifies forging a path through adversity, while 'Li-Zhen' emphasizes upholding correct principles to overcome challenges. Only by steadfastly maintaining the original way of harmony can one transcend Zhun's difficulties."

Explaining the hexagram phrase "gaining companions in the southwest, losing companions in the northeast," the master clarified: "The southwest belongs to Yin—when Yin energies gather, confusion intensifies, called 'deviation from the constant.' The northeast is Yang's domain—losing Yin companions brings auspiciousness, termed 'attaining the constant.' For practitioners, emotional stirrings belong to Yin; indulging them creates the chaotic state of 'Yin gaining companions,' while using resolute will to sever delusions achieves the clarity of 'losing companions.' Only those with great wisdom can grasp this subtlety."

Regarding the auspiciousness of all six lines in the Qian (Modesty) hexagram, the master noted: "This reflects the virtue of humble restraint. Yet the fifth line (representing sovereign position) doesn't mention modesty—a ruler cannot overdo humility lest authority diminish, hence its text states 'using forceful action brings no misfortune.' Practitioners too must balance strength and softness, avoiding excessive pliancy."

On the phrase "acting before heaven without contradicting heaven, acting after heaven while following heaven's timing," the master explained: "The original state before birth is called 'pre-heaven' (Xiantian), naturally aligned with the Dao (Way). The cultivated state after birth is 'post-heaven' (Houtian), requiring conscious alignment with celestial rhythms. We might compare innate awakening to Xiantian's spontaneous perfection, and cultivated awakening to Houtian's deliberate practice."

The movement of the heavenly Dao (Tian Dao) is entirely spontaneous, never violating natural principles nor acting with deliberate intent. Since the heavenly Dao operates with such naturalness, we humans dare not go against it—thus we must accord with the timing of heaven.

The master (referring to Qing'an Yingchanzi) said: When emotions like joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure have not yet manifested, this state is called "centrality" (zhong); when they emerge yet remain perfectly measured, this is called "harmony" (he). He asked his disciples: How would you understand this "on-the-verge-of-emerging-but-not-yet-emerging" state? The disciples pondered at length before replying. The master said: Your very act of answering already belongs to the "already-emerged" state. I (the recorder) remained silent, whereupon the master added: This is the true "not-yet-emerged" state. Later, when someone answered again, the master finally approved, saying: Such realizations should be kept for one's own cultivation—explaining too much might mislead future generations. Only what you genuinely comprehend for yourself can truly be put to use.

(This dialogue records Qing'an Yingchanzi's instruction on the essential method for emotional refinement, emphasizing that Daoist cultivation requires personal realization of the subtle states of "centrality" and "harmony," without clinging to verbal explanations.)

This dialogue records a discussion between Master Qing'an Yingchanzi (a renowned Daoist master) and his disciples on the core concepts of the Daode Jing. The master employed Chan-style paradoxical questions to awaken his disciples to the true meaning of "Dao" (the Way) and "De" (Virtue/Power).

Regarding the character "Dao," the master said it neither belongs to concrete existence nor absolute nothingness; it is neither form nor formlessness. Disciple Ding'an responded with a sharp "Hah!" (a traditional Chan exclamation), while Hei'an uttered a disruptive shout (a Chan practice to cut through conceptual thinking). When asked about "De," the master pointed out it is neither attained through forced cultivation nor gained through complete neglect. Hei'an answered "acting through wuwei (non-action)," while Ding'an mimicked the master's tone, suggesting transcendence beyond language.

Discussing the first chapter's phrase "The mystery beyond mysteries, gateway to all wonders," the master noted all Daoist scriptures originate here, then questioned where this scripture itself comes from. Hei'an gestured opening a scripture, and Ding'an again cut through with a shout. In the second chapter's exploration of "being and non-being give birth to each other," the master posed a paradox: whether one can explain "dwelling beyond being and non-being" or not, the outcome remains the same—pointing to transcending dualities.

The third chapter examined the paradoxical expression "governing through non-action." Ding'an responded with "uniting essence and function," while Wei'an said "transcending function within function itself." For the fourth chapter's discussion of "what existed before the Lord-on-High," the master remarked that speaking of it would wear out one's tongue, seeing it would strain one's eyes—only silent comprehension suffices.

In the fifth chapter's metaphor of heaven-earth as a bellows (tuoyue), the master chanted: "The bottomless tuo (bellows body), the triple-holed yue (pipe)—yet that intangible cavity in between (referring to the Mysterious Pass) plays soundless music." Finally, he challenged: "What truly is this 'single cavity'?"—hinting that spiritual practice hinges on realizing this formless, imageless core.

The Recorded Sayings of Qing'an Yingchanzi documents dialogues among Daoist practitioners. Through concise yet profound question-and-answer exchanges, they explore the profound mysteries of Daoist practice.

Regarding the realm of "non-being," some practitioners focus on breath awareness ("tending to the nostrils"), while others respond with the mantra "Hūm." When discussing the music of silence, mention is made of "Jasper Heaven's Empty Songs," the celestial music of the immortal realms.

Chapter Six discusses the Mysterious Feminine Gate (Xuánpìn, the Daoist term for the generative source of all things), pointing out that true cultivation transcends the distinction between inhalation and exhalation. It neither clings to external phenomena ("not entangled with myriad conditions") nor sinks into the realm of yin (referring to desires). Attaining this state is called "tranquil and unmoving," resembling the crystal-clear stillness where all sounds cease.

Chapter Seven explores the relationship between selflessness and self-interest. While practitioners may appear to cultivate for personal attainment (belonging to self-interest), their great vow to universally deliver all beings (belonging to sentiment) ultimately transcends selfishness. Some summarize this as the attitude of "putting others before oneself."

Chapter Eight uses water as a metaphor for the Dao (the highest goodness resembles water). The key lies in relinquishing attachments ("this little thought"), just as the Yellow River's waters eventually become clear. But where should "this little thought" be placed? Some respond with gestures, indicating it's beyond verbal expression.

Chapter Nine discusses the Heavenly Dao principle of withdrawing after accomplishment. When asked "where to withdraw," some say returning to emptiness, others say there's nowhere to go. The ultimate answer is natural concealment "like the Big Dipper hidden in a camel's hump."

Chapter Ten addresses how to tame the restless "soul and spirit" (Yíngpò). It enjoys galloping, moving, and asserting itself—neither to be deliberately suppressed (belonging to sentiment) nor left unchecked. Some snap their fingers to suggest employing skillful means.

Chapter Eleven uses the wheel as a metaphor: thirty spokes converge at the hub—it's precisely the central emptiness that enables the cart to move. When asked where the cart is when spokes don't converge, someone mimics pushing a cart, indicating the constant presence of Dao's substance.

Chapter Twelve discusses how the five colors blind the eyes. Transcending form and appearance isn't literally becoming blind, but attaining the detached state of "seeing as if not seeing."

Chapter Thirteen explores the relationship between the body and suffering. With a body comes affliction, but how can Dao manifest without a body? The answer lies in relinquishing attachments ("let it go") or cultivating formless, imageless original nature.

Chapter Fourteen discusses the Dao-substance that "looked at cannot be seen." Completely whole without cracks or gaps, it's like an intact egg. But the deeper state is "facing it yet not recognizing"—Dao is right before our eyes yet difficult to perceive.

Chapter Fifteen describes Dao's subtlety and profound penetration. Like water, it appears ordinary yet contains unfathomable depth. These dialogues demonstrate how practitioners use Zen-like exchanges to point to profound mysteries in their teaching methods.

This dialogue records a discussion among Daoist practitioners about chapters from the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), revealing the master-disciple dynamic of pointed spiritual inquiry.

When someone tested another with a cane and asked about the Dao through words, the master simply raised his fist and said, "This one gesture explains it all." Discussing Chapter 16's "Reach the utmost emptiness, guard perfect stillness," the master asked where the "Heavenly Heart" (Tianxin) resides. Ding'an (a practitioner) suddenly snatched away the staff, implying the answer transcends speech.

On Chapter 17's "The highest rulers," the master noted the true Dao belongs neither to form nor formlessness—one must perceive their original self. Regarding wisdom, all agreed excessive pursuit of cleverness obscures innate nature. Zhi'an remarked Wuwei (non-action) is fundamental, while Sun'an added, "Cleverness pales beside simplicity."

Debating "Abandon learning and be free from sorrow," Hei'an likened scholarly pursuit to "chasing wind and shadows"—illusory. In Chapter 21's discourse on being/non-being, they realized one must transcend duality to grasp reality's essence.

The master illustrated with trees and geese: Unusable trees live long, but unfit geese get cooked—timely adaptation matters. On "Rare words are natural," true mystery lies beyond language. Ding'an demonstrated "stepping without the heel" to reveal walking's essence.

Finally, discussing "Within the realm are four greatnesses," Hei'an abruptly shouted, shattering verbal limits. Through vivid metaphors and gestures, this exchange embodies Daoism's "direct pointing to the mind beyond words."

This dialogue records Qing'an Yingchanzi's discussion with his disciples on the essential meaning of chapters from the Dao De Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), illustrating the Daoist teaching method of comprehending the Dao through question-and-answer exchanges.

When discussing Chapter 27, the master used the phrase "excellent movement leaves no tracks" to inspire his disciples. A disciple responded with "those of great power do not lift their feet," meaning that truly accomplished individuals appear effortless yet contain immense energy. The master further explained the application of the Dao through "guarding the dark, the feminine, and the humble," while using "the boundless simplicity of the infant" to describe the essence of the Dao.

In discussing Chapter 29's "those who wish to seize the world," the master countered by asking, "Where is the mistake?" A disciple pointed out that the error lay in "forcing action" (wei). In Chapter 30, which discusses the principles of warfare, a disciple proposed "transforming through De (Virtue)," while the master emphasized "protecting with compassion."

During the discussion of Chapter 32's "the Dao is eternally without action, simple though small," one disciple used the metaphor "a mustard seed contains Mount Sumeru" to illustrate how the Dao, though seemingly minute, encompasses all things. Another disciple added, "humble yet unsurpassable."

In exploring Chapter 33's "those who die but do not perish attain longevity," a disciple realized the state of "mystery within emptiness" and "luminous clarity in the void." When discussing Chapter 34's "the sage does not exalt himself," a disciple described greatness in humility as "vitality entering through the pearl’s mouth."

Finally, when examining "holding the great image" (Chapter 35), the master pointed out that fixation on either "having form" or "having no form" is partiality. A disciple illuminated the profound principle of unity between small and large with "a world within a millet pearl." The entire dialogue embodies the ultimate wisdom of Daoism: "non-action (wuwei), yet nothing is left undone."

This dialogue records an exchange of Chan-style discourse between Daoist practitioners on the interplay of "Wuwei" (non-action) and "being." Masters like Hei'an, Mi'an, and Ding'an engage in terse, pointed dialogues that illuminate the essence of spiritual cultivation.

Regarding the relationship between "deliberate action" and "non-action," they observe: forced effort leads to illusion, yet fixation on "non-action" becomes empty abstraction. True practice transcends both extremes, much like "facing each other yet never meeting"—seeming opposites are ultimately one.

When discussing "De" (Virtue), they emphasize that genuine virtue ("supreme De") never proclaims itself, just as "Heaven attains the One and thereby becomes clear"—the cosmos operates naturally without self-praise. Probing the axiom that "all things arise from being, and being arises from non-being," they challenge: "What exists beyond non-being and being?" hinting that the Dao surpasses such dualities.

The inferior student laughs upon hearing the Great Dao, for truths beyond conventional logic elude comprehension. Practitioners must grasp the dialectic that "what seems diminished may be enhanced, what seems enhanced may be diminished"—apparent loss may conceal true gain.

The softest overcomes the hardest, as water wears through stone. Facing external circumstances, maintain the attitude: "when confronted, do not contend; when passed, the mind grows cool"—achieving the serene state of "unperturbed clarity."

Weighing fame against life's essence, they cite the metaphor: "if one can circulate the treasure within the home"—true jewels are inner compassion, not material wealth. Contentment ("great perfection seems incomplete") brings authentic abundance, while insatiable craving invites harm.

Finally, they identify unbridled desire as the gravest transgression, implying that cultivation requires restraining greed to return to original purity. These concise dialogues reveal: the path demands navigating the middle way between being and non-being, awakening to inherent nature by transcending duality.

This dialogue records Qing'an Yingchanzi's discussion with disciples on the essential meanings of chapters from the Dao De Jing, employing a question-and-answer format to elucidate the true principles of Daoist cultivation.

When examining the phrase "desires may cause the heart to become disordered," the master emphasizes that the key lies in maintaining the original mind in the present moment (dangchu). In discussing Chapter 47's "accomplishment through non-action (wuwei)," two disciples suggest that what is accomplished is virtue (cheng De), while what is manifested is the great Dao (ming Dao). For Chapter 48's "learning leads to daily increase, while practicing the Dao leads to daily decrease," Ding'an interprets this as reducing selfish desires (sun ji) to benefit others, while Hei'an explains it as diminishing delusional attachments (sun qing) to return to one's true nature.

In interpreting the phenomena of life and death in Chapter 50, the master uses the saying "the benevolent see benevolence, the wise see wisdom" to illustrate differences in perception among beings, pointing out that the essence of nirvana-mind transcends time (no past or present). Regarding Chapter 51's "the Dao gives birth and De nurtures," Shi'an clarifies that what gives birth and nourishes is the great Dao itself. When exploring the origin of all things in Chapter 52, the master employs the skillful method of calling names and responses to reveal that names and forms are merely provisional designations.

Discussing the awe of practicing the Dao in Chapter 53, Hei'an understands this as reverence for the laws of celestial destiny (wei tianming). Extending Chapter 54's "observe the state through the state" to the greater difficulty of observing the mind, the master pierces through conceptualization with the rhetorical question "who is the questioner?" to reveal the key to recognizing the original mind. For Chapter 55's "heart of a newborn child," two disciples describe it respectively as "pure unity" and "serenely unmoving," while the master emphasizes that returning to the source (fan zhe Dao zhi yong) is fundamental.

These exchanges demonstrate how Daoist practice focuses on returning to the origin—through relinquishing acquired attachments to recover the innate natural state. The master-disciple dialogues are filled with Chan-like insights, simultaneously explicating scriptural meaning while transcending attachment to names and forms.

The Recorded Sayings of Qing'an Yingchanzi documents a series of master-disciple dialogues on chapters from the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), revealing the profound exchanges characteristic of Daoist cultivation. Here is a chapter-by-chapter interpretation:

Regarding Chapter 56's "Those who know don't speak," the master said: True wisdom isn't deliberately explained, while those who talk excessively often lack real understanding. Your answers remain superficial. Remember—the mouth our parents gave us ultimately cannot fully convey the truth of the Dao.

Discussing Chapter 57 on governing states and military strategy, the master countered: It speaks of "wuwei (non-action)" gaining the world, but if one truly does nothing, how could the world be attained? When the disciples fell silent, he revealed: The key lies in guiding through De (Virtue).

For Chapter 58's closing phrase "radiant yet not glaring," the disciples were puzzled. The master used the metaphor "wearing coarse cloth while harboring jade" to illustrate how realized beings conceal inner brilliance without ostentation.

Chapter 59's "In governing people and serving heaven, nothing surpasses frugality" was interpreted by Zhi'an as thriftiness. The master affirmed: Precisely—it means adhering to the way of simplicity.

On Chapter 60's "When the Dao prevails, ghosts lose their power," Hei'an explained: With the Dao's implementation, malignant spirits lose their capacity to haunt. Ding'an added: When upright Qi prevails, pathogenic energies cannot interfere.

For Chapter 61's "Great states flow downward," the master offered vivid imagery: Extend the hand of wuwei casually, and the world stabilizes without force. Hei'an elaborated: This requires wisdom transcending the Three Teachings (Daoism, Buddhism, Confucianism), while Cheng'an said: One must reach the state of "shattered emptiness."

Discussing Chapter 62's "sins may be forgiven," Ding'an said: Seeking faults yet finding none. The master threw down the scripture: Enough baseless speculation.

Regarding Chapter 63's "Deal with difficulties while they're easy," the master noted: What's called easy may not be; what's called hard may not be either. Hei'an pinpointed the "middle" as crucial, while Shi'an said the root never leaves the Mysterious Pass (Xuanguan, core of cultivation). The master concluded: Stand like the North Star—facing south (grasping fundamental orientation).

Chapter 64's "What's stable is easily maintained" was explained by Hei'an as preventing issues before they arise—the principle of "nipping problems in the bud."

For Chapter 65's "The ancients skilled in the Dao," the master declared: All artificial cultivation methods—all 3,600 of them—are seen through as mere mental play. Only by preserving the nameless simplicity can demons retreat. Ding'an added: Clinging to any particular thing is mistaken.

Though Chapter 66's "Why rivers and seas reign over valleys" wasn't fully explored, it continues the preceding theme—water bodies become kings by staying low, metaphorically suggesting practitioners should maintain humility and inclusiveness.

This dialogue records the sharp exchanges between Daoist practitioners, exemplifying the Daoist teaching method of "wordless instruction." Several masters (Hei'an, Ding'an, Shi'an) guide their disciples toward comprehending the great Dao through concise phrases.

Regarding the relationship between rivers and valleys, the master illuminates with three simple words—"low, lower, lowest"—revealing that true wisdom resembles rivers willingly occupying humble positions to receive all tributaries. Cultivation should emulate this virtue of humility, just as Chapter 67 of the Dao De Jing teaches: relinquishing superficial courage, abundance, and competitiveness to preserve the roots of compassion, frugality, and yielding.

When discussing "the waters of ignorance" (delusions and afflictions), the master employs "leveling the dry land" as a metaphor for dissolving dualistic thinking, while "waves rising without wind" describes the originally pure mind. The discourse on breath and mortality draws varied insights—some speak of the space between breaths, others of the moment between opening and closing, while one directly points "beneath the eyebrows"—all guiding disciples to turn inward and observe their true nature.

In the military strategy dialogue, the master shatters subject-object distinctions with "who are you and who am I," using "eye gazing into eye" to hint at directly perceiving the original mind. Addressing how the Dao is easily known yet hard to practice, they note how people use it daily without awareness, like eyes that cannot see their own lashes—truth remains elusive precisely because it is too near.

Concerning levels of understanding, true wisdom lies in "knowing one's not-knowing," while "not-knowing yet claiming to know" constitutes the root ailment. To cure this, one must employ the "nameless simplicity" (the Dao's authentic state) or swallow a red-hot iron ball—completely relinquishing attachments. For those with shallow foundations, erroneous perceptions must first be cleared.

The final passages warn practitioners to revere life's impermanence: "courageous daring" (forcing outcomes) invites calamity, while "courageous not-daring" (embracing softness) ensures survival. Like injuring one's hand while usurping a master carpenter's axe, willful striving only brings self-harm. Throughout these exchanges, the core Daoist wisdom of "softness overcoming hardness" shines unmistakably.

This dialogue records a discussion among Daoist practitioners about the essential meaning of chapters from the Daode Jing, showcasing the lively question-and-answer teaching method between master and disciples.

When the master asked, "How should we understand the last line of Chapter 75: 'It is because they make no effort to prolong life that they are superior to those who value life highly'?" Ding'an replied, "Because this way one won't fall into dangerous situations of death." This discusses the Daode Jing's wisdom about transcending attachment to life and death, suggesting that those not overly attached to preserving life are actually wiser than those who excessively value it.

Regarding Chapter 76's "When humans are born, they are soft and tender; when dead, they become rigid and stiff," Ding'an pointed out that "softness is the manifestation of life." This echoes the core Daoist principle that "the soft overcomes the hard," viewing pliability as containing greater vitality.

In discussing Chapter 77's "The Dao of Heaven reduces what is excessive and supplements what is deficient. The Dao of humans is not so," the master pressed further: "What is the state when there's neither reduction nor addition?" When no one could answer, the master described it as "neither too much nor too little—just perfectly natural and effortless," embodying the Daoist pursuit of balanced moderation.

Concerning Chapter 78's "To bear the nation's misfortunes is to be king of the world," the master explained it as "being free from taboos"—meaning true rulers must shoulder their country's calamities, transcending conventional notions of fortune and misfortune.

When debating Chapter 79's "Reconciliation of great enmity inevitably leaves some enmity," disciples offered varied interpretations: Wei'an said "restraining oneself is goodness," Ding'an cited "restraining oneself and returning to propriety," while Hei'an advocated "compassion and forbearance." The master summarized with "transcending both gratitude and resentment," pointing out that resolving enmity fundamentally requires rising above duality.

In discussing Chapter 80's "The people grow old and die without visiting each other," Hei'an understood it as "living contentedly," Ding'an as "non-contention," while the master elucidated this simple, natural social state as "the inner not seeking externally, the external not disturbing the inner."

Finally, when examining Chapter 81's "The Dao of sages is to act without contention," the master asked each to summarize the essence of "Dao and De (the Way and Virtue)" in one phrase. Diverse views emerged: Hei'an said "Dao is contained in function, De manifests in benevolence"; Ding'an held "Dao needs no deliberate cultivation, De requires no forced pursuit"; Wei'an proposed "Dao appears in emptiness, De embodies in form"; Shi'an quoted "The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao, true De does not proclaim itself." The master concluded: "Dao is the silent, unmoving substance, De is the responsive function that connects all things," using a candle flame analogy to illustrate their "substance-function" relationship—Hei'an comprehended this as "substance fills the void, function illuminates all." These discussions vividly demonstrate Daoism's multifaceted understanding of its core concepts, Dao and De.

Breaking Through Darkness: Master Shi'an said, "The original substance appears perfectly harmonious without obstruction, yet when functioning, it shines with radiant brilliance." The master (referring to Qing'an Yingchanzi) added, "The substance remains eternally unmoved, yet its function manifests complete luminosity." Shi'an continued, "The substance is like a pillar upholding the heavens, while its function illuminates both sky and earth." The master then challenged the disciples: "Let each of you remain silent and attempt to compose a couplet expressing the function of this substance." When none responded, the master provided an illustrative example, at which point the assembly gained some realization.

(Note: This passage discusses the Daoist cultivation concept of "substance and function" (ti-yong). "Substance" refers to the unchanging essence of the Dao (the Way), while "function" denotes its dynamic manifestations. Practitioners must comprehend both the eternal nature of the Dao and its wondrous operations within all phenomena. Through metaphorical dialogue and questioning, this exchange guides disciples toward understanding the profound mystery of Dao's essence.)

This passage from The Recorded Sayings of Qing'an Yingchanzi documents a winter solstice scripture lecture, showcasing the distinctive style of Daoist cultivation through profound dialogues.

Holding his staff, Qing'an Yingchanzi (a renowned Southern Song dynasty Daoist master) addressed the assembly: "The great Dao (the Way) is ultimately ineffable, and I am no skilled speaker—so I shall demonstrate with this staff." At times, he held it horizontally, calling this its "substance" (essence); at others, he stood it upright, calling this its "function" (application). This seemingly ordinary staff, in truth, possessed divine power—raised high, it could prop up heaven and earth. The moment it was lifted, countless celestial beings, including the Flying Heavenly Divine Kings and Immortal Sages of the Ten Directions, stood in solemn reverence, and even Laozi (the Supreme Venerable Sovereign) would bow before it.

He then demonstrated the staff’s wondrous uses: a single strike could shake the void; a stir could blend primordial chaos; a stroke could dissolve the barriers between Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism; and a firm stand could awaken the innate nature of all present. Yet he immediately added: "Though the staff holds such power, it is never used to strike the dull-witted." At this point, Shian (his disciple Miao Shanshi) stepped forward, bowing to inquire about the deeper meaning of snowfall on the winter solstice.

Qing'an’s reply carried Chan-like subtlety: "This question is as clear as freezing water, yet it must not be taken merely as an auspicious sign." Through the symbolism of the staff, the text illustrates the Daoist cultivation principle of "the unity of Dao and instrument"—ordinary objects can become vehicles for enlightenment, depending on whether the practitioner, having "once grasped the authority" (mastered their innate nature), can wield them with boundless wisdom.

This scripture elucidates the Daoist cultivation principle of "the return of solitary yang" (yiyang laifu). The text mentions that the "winter solstice" refers not merely to a solar term, but metaphorically represents the moment when yang energy begins stirring within the human body.

Using the natural phenomenon of winter dormancy as an analogy, the author explains how practitioners should maintain mental emptiness and stillness, awaiting the spontaneous emergence of inner yang energy. Just as ancient emperors would close their gates and suspend commercial activities during the winter solstice, cultivators too should gather their spirit and quiet both internal and external environments to welcome the revival of yang energy.

Quoting the Daode Jing's passages like "reach utmost emptiness, maintain complete stillness," the text emphasizes observing the cyclical patterns of all things through this practice of emptiness and stillness. Similar to how the Fu hexagram (from the Yijing) emerges from the pure yin of Kun hexagram, when stillness reaches its apex, yang movement naturally arises—this is the manifestation of the "Heart of Heaven" (tianxin).

The conclusion observes that while natural phenomena like winter snowfall may appear auspicious, the true auspicious sign is the practitioner's ability to maintain inner emptiness. All things ultimately return to their root, which is stillness—the extreme of stillness marks the rebirth of life. This reveals the core Daoist cultivation principle of "movement arising from utter stillness" (jing ji sheng dong).

The Recorded Sayings of Qing'an Yingchanzi discusses the distinction between "knowing constancy" (zhichang) and "not knowing constancy" in Daoist cultivation. Those who comprehend the eternal Dao (chang) attain the state of "illumination" (ming), while those who remain ignorant and act recklessly invite misfortune (xiong). This is analogous to the solar phenomenon of "yang's return at winter solstice" (yiyang laifu), where failure to perceive this subtle cosmic transition and acting against it brings self-harm.

The text then outlines four progressive realms attained through knowing constancy: understanding the eternal Dao leads to all-encompassing capacity (rong), which fosters impartiality (gong); impartiality enables true sovereignty (wang), and sovereignty aligns with celestial order (tian). Here, "all-encompassing" means embracing the myriad beings, while "impartiality" denotes treating all existence equally. Attaining perfect impartiality and universality makes one a sovereign and guide, for celestial principles and human affairs share the same foundation.

Further, alignment with the celestial order (tian) leads to union with the Dao itself, ensuring lifelong freedom from peril. Those who truly embody the Dao grasp the mystery of enduring life and perpetual vision. At the pinnacle of cultivation, even the Buddhist concept of "the patience of non-arising" (wusheng faren) — the wisdom transcending life and death — becomes realized. In the profound stillness of utmost emptiness and tranquility, one perceives the "Celestial Heart" (tianxin), the cosmic origin, where one's intrinsic radiance illuminates the entire universe.

At this stage, a profound realization dawns: every month and day contains the essence of winter solstice (symbolizing the perpetual play of yin-yang transformations), making the solstice itself an ordinary occurrence. As the ancients taught, most days are ordinary—it is sentient beings who disturb their own minds. When questioned why rituals (zhaijiao) are performed if all days are equal, the response is that this conforms to worldly conventions. Like adding footnotes to scholarly writing, true practitioners understand the deeper significance behind these "annotations." The passage concludes with the auspicious phrase "midwinter's joyful snow" (zhongdong xixue), suggesting adepts should harmonize with cosmic rhythms while transcending formalities.

Master Qing'an Yingchanzi (a renowned Daoist master), while delivering a dharma talk, took up his whisk and addressed the assembly: "The true Dao has no fixed form and cannot be fully expressed in words. Since I've ascended this platform to speak today, I'll let this whisk speak for me." He continued, "This whisk may seem ordinary, but it holds profound mysteries—the moment it's raised, it stirs doubts in the patriarchs and darkens the minds of listeners, provoking debate. This whisk is all mouth (capable of expounding the dharma), all hands (capable of action), all eyes (capable of perception), possessing unfathomable spiritual powers and transformations."

Raising the whisk, he asked the assembly, "Do you see it? Does it have eyes?" Tapping it, he inquired, "Do you hear it? Does it have ears?" Finally, he tossed it down and said, "Look—does it have supernatural abilities?" When an attendant handed it back to him, he remarked, "It is in use, yet transcends use." Then he pointed out: "The mountains and rivers, the vast cosmos, all the sages of the past, and every living being—all reside at the tip of this whisk." Swinging the whisk, he challenged, "If anyone is not atop this whisk, step forward and show yourself!"

At this moment, Layman Huang stepped forth and said, "Thunderclaps shake the stars across the heavens. Master, what is the profound mystery of 'the return of the solitary Yang' (the critical moment of Yang energy's rebirth at the winter solstice for cultivation)?" Qing'an drew a circle in the air (a Zen gesture symbolizing perfection) and asked, "Do you understand?" Layman Huang replied, "I do. But how should we handle the Yang energy within the body?" Qing'an shook the whisk and let out a thunderous shout. Immediately, Layman Huang realized: "To bear it directly in the present." After receiving Qing'an's approval, Layman Huang bowed in gratitude, saying, "Had the Master not revealed this, I might have missed the timing of Yang energy's emergence."

Next, Dai Jia'an asked, "The winter solstice is just an ordinary day—why call it 'the birth of Yang'? What deeper meaning lies in the snowfall?" Qing'an answered, "The earth lies flat; heaven and earth become one color (referring to the state of enlightenment)—do you understand?" Seeing his confusion, Qing'an motioned him closer and said, "Even if snow blankets a thousand mountains, a solitary peak still stands tall and unshaken." Hearing this, Dai Jia'an bowed in reverence. Through everyday objects and natural phenomena, this dialogue vividly illustrates the ineffable yet omnipresent profundity of the Dao.

Li Qing'an (founder of the Qing'an lineage of Daoism) addressed his disciples: I have a riddle for you to contemplate. It speaks of something that appears as form within the hazy indistinctness, and seems to exist within the indistinct haziness. Tell me, what could this be?

If anyone can unravel this mystery, even if they drag me from this dharma seat, beat me to death, and bury me deep in the earth without a trace, it would not be excessive. But if you fail to comprehend it, then I, Li Qing'an, will have to bury you instead. Fearful you still might not understand, I'll give another clue: This thing I speak of can shrink to the infinitesimal yet expand boundlessly, sharing the same essence as the cosmic void while manifesting throughout the entire world. Lifted up, even the heavens cannot contain it; set down, the earth cannot bear its weight. Those who see it will stare wide-eyed, and those who hear of it will feel their minds exploding.

Daoist cultivators who understand this can make Penglai's immortal mountains tremble; Buddhist disciples who grasp it obtain the true transmission of Chan. Used to govern nations, it brings peace and prosperity; employed to assist the Dao, it clarifies the times. Speaking of its value, it's worth ten thousand taels of gold, yet when meeting a true appreciator, I'd give it freely without charge. Why take no payment? Not for profit, but for pure delight! Now that I've told you, do you understand?

Shi'an replied that he didn't comprehend. Li Qing'an said: Never mind understanding for now—I'll buy and sell to myself. Then he joined his palms together in a circular gesture: Observe where these two hands meet, and you'll naturally pluck forth the true fragrance.

During the ritual celebration of Laozi's sacred birthday, Li Qing'an ascended the teaching seat and proclaimed: The supreme Dao actually knows no hierarchy—it eternally exists within everyday life. Pitiful those who don't understand yet insist on describing it as increasingly mysterious. Tell me, where is Lord Laozi? Ah! Isn't he right here expounding the Dharma for you? Even if someone awakens in this moment, they'd still be a hair's breadth from Qing'an's realization.

Why say this? If you call him Lord Laozi, then what are you yourself? You must turn inward to investigate before genuine realization occurs. When Laozi said "The truth of constant Dao is realized through self-attainment," this was precisely his meaning. He also taught that sentient beings fail to attain the Dao because of deluded minds. Once this deluded mind stirs, it generates all manner of discriminatory attachments, becoming bound by causation and losing the Dao's fundamental root. Seeing beings thus迷失 their true nature, the sages established various expedient methods to guide people beyond attachments and out of confusion.

This passage discusses how practitioners of the Dao should correctly understand scriptures. Master Yingchanzi (one of the Five Patriarchs of the Southern School of Daoism) points out that the true Dao cannot be fully expressed in words—scriptures merely serve as signposts guiding people back to the great Way.

When reading scriptures, one must avoid: clinging to literal meanings, arbitrarily adding or subtracting interpretations, analyzing through intellectual reasoning, or speculating based on sensory experience. The Dao is neither an actual existing thing nor a concept of nothingness; it cannot be comprehended through literary reasoning nor judged by dualistic notions like "cessation and permanence" (a Buddhist term referring to annihilation and eternality). To truly realize the Dao, one must transcend all such binary concepts.

Laozi (the Supreme Venerable) said, "Hold fast to the Great Image (the Dao), and all under heaven will follow," meaning that by grasping the root of the Dao, one can navigate the world with ease. Yet the Dao itself is plain and flavorless—those who try to understand it through sensory phenomena will never truly attain it. The words of sages may seem simple but contain profound meaning. If one can genuinely believe and relinquish all attachments, they may reach the state where "form and spirit both become wondrous," merging with the Dao in perfect authenticity.

Unfortunately, modern scholars neither seek authentic transmission from masters nor engage in proper practice, instead making wild guesses on their own. Some fixate on literal meanings while others obsess over rhetorical embellishments, obscuring the original intent behind the sages' scriptures. In truth, the moment we speak of the Dao, we've already strayed from the true Dao; the moment we name it, it ceases to be the eternal name. Paradoxically, though the five thousand characters of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) speak of the Dao, they are actually pointing to the ineffable Dao; though they name it, they refer to the unnameable name.

Understanding this principle means one's cultivation is complete. Otherwise, like ordinary people, "the benevolent see benevolence, the wise see wisdom," and the common folk use the Dao daily without knowing it. Hence, few truly comprehend the sages' Way. I, Qing'an, spare no effort in clarifying this for you: this volume of scripture is like an old paper that can never be wiped clean—since it's unclean old paper... [The text abruptly ends here, implying that words themselves are ultimately superfluous.]

This passage elucidates the profound meaning behind the opening line of the Daode Jing: "The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao." Just as a skilled physician prescribes medicine according to the illness—once cured, the medicine becomes unnecessary—so too does the five-thousand-character Daode Jing fulfill its purpose when one truly comprehends the eternal Dao.

The Dao that can be named and spoken of represents only its surface; what cannot be named or spoken of constitutes its mysterious essence. The "named" manifests the Dao's function, while the "nameless" embodies its fundamental nature. The nameless state is the origin of heaven and earth; the named state is the mother of all things. These two emerge from the same source with different names—both are called "mystery" (xuan), and this profound mystery is the gateway to all wonders. Only by penetrating beyond the "named" appearance to the "nameless" profundity can one grasp the true eternal Dao.

Master Qing'an (a renowned Daoist adept) poses a rhetorical question: In speaking at length today, have I actually spoken or not? And you who listen to these scriptures—are you truly hearing or not? Only sages who attain the state of "hearing without hearing" can comprehend this "speech beyond speech." The original intent of the sages in composing scriptures lies precisely here—the opening line already exhausts the entire teaching.

Some may object: If the Dao cannot be spoken or named, aren't today's ritual observances (Daoist ceremonies) superfluous? Master Qing'an explains: Just as Lord Laozi's (the supreme Daoist deity) descent on the fifteenth day of the second month isn't literal but reveals the principle of ceaseless generation, so my celebration of his birth elucidates this fundamental truth—how could this be called unnecessary?

The passage concludes with an example using a fly-whisk (a Daoist ritual implement): What's visibly perceived as "xi" (the subtlest form)—is this truly formless? What's audibly perceived as "yi" (the faintest sound)—is this truly soundless? What's tangibly perceived as "wei" (the most minute)—is this truly shapeless? To cling to sensory perception is to remain unenlightened, yet to completely deny sensory perception is equally unenlightened. True realization means seeing forms without clinging to forms, hearing sounds without clinging to sounds—understanding that appearances and intrinsic nature are fundamentally one.

This dialogue records the transmission of Chan (Zen) wisdom between Master Qing'an (a Daoist practitioner) and his disciples through pointed exchanges. The master's gesture of "throwing a punch" shatters conventional thinking, urging disciples to transcend sensory perception. When disciple Hei'an presses further, the master responds with "the great image has no form" and "the great sound is seldom heard" (concepts from the Daode Jing describing the formless nature of Dao), emphasizing realization of the formless essence.

Using his staff (a common implement for practitioners) as metaphor, the master illustrates how seemingly tangible phenomena like "a clay ox panting at the moon" or "a wooden horse neighing in the wind" are ultimately illusory. True Dao resembles drawing an inverted Mystic Peak with the staff (a Chan reference to transcending dualities) — any verbal explanation becomes a mistake. Quoting the Daode Jing's "the best walking leaves no tracks," he reveals the highest state as spontaneous wuwei (non-action) without traces.

The paradoxical statement "touch the tip of your nose, and your whole body becomes a mouth" hints at perceiving true nature everywhere. True realization transcends words and gestures, just as Lord Lao (the Daoist honorific for Laozi) expounded scriptures without speaking, and the master's raised staff involves no actual movement. Through repeated challenges — "don't speak" and "don't move" — he pushes disciples to perceive truth amidst sensory phenomena. When Layman Huang and Ding'an attempt responses, the master guides them with ordinary actions — a cough, a footstep — until Ding'an realizes "nowhere to go" is true liberation. The entire exchange embodies the Daoist-Chan teaching method of "not relying on words, directly pointing to the mind."

This passage records the dharma combat between Qing'an School patriarch Yingchanzi and his disciples. While in Yangzhou, Yingchanzi composed a quatrain and asked each disciple to add a line, promising that whoever matched his intended meaning would be permitted to advance in their cultivation.

Yingchanzi began: "Formless, shadowless, and nameless too,/ Yet upholding heaven and earth through and through./ Just when Qing'an topples it anew..." Here he uses metaphor to describe the essence of Dao—though formless, it sustains all things, while spiritual practice involves breaking attachment to appearances.

The disciples' responses each revealed distinct insights: Ding'an offered "Three thousand worlds turn to gold," expressing how all phenomena reveal their true nature upon enlightenment; Wu'an countered "Vanished without trace, beyond pursuit," emphasizing Dao's ungraspable quality; Fu'an proposed "Seek it in stillness and stability," pointing to cultivation methods; Hei'an metaphorically suggested "Transforming the great earth to gold," alluding to the alchemical work of transformation; while Yue'an echoed Dao's empty nature with "Void and shattered, leaving no trace."

The master-disciple dialogue then shifted to discussions of cultivation states. Yingchanzi employed inner alchemy (Neidan) terminology like "The Qian cauldron and golden furnace refine sun and moon," while disciples described spiritual attainments through imagery such as "Holding an infant to pay homage to the Purple Subtlety" (referring to perfected spirit-shen) and "Releasing radiant light to return to the Great Beginning." Ultimately, Yingchanzi judged Ding'an and Hei'an's understandings as the most profound.

This exchange exemplifies Daoism's "wordless teaching" method—using poetic dialogue to verify realization. Recurring metaphors like "gold" symbolize the manifest Dao-body, while terms like "void" and "shattered" point to awakening beyond attachments. Phrases such as "refining sun and moon" and "homage to the Purple Subtlety" correlate with specific stages of inner alchemical practice.

This dialogue records the insights of multiple Daoist practitioners (such as Wu'an, Hei'an, Ding'an, and others) discussing the realms of cultivation. They employ poetic language to describe the mysterious state of the Dao—neither complete emptiness nor concrete existence—a realm transcending dualistic oppositions that represents true holistic realization.

The practitioners highlight several core concepts in their discussion: only when the Great Void (the cosmic origin) and the Dao are recognized as one can true enlightenment be attained; the phrase "perfectly round and seamless" (yuan tuotuo) describes the primordial state of undifferentiated chaos, where no fixed form can be grasped; and the "true key" (zhen quan) refers to the genuine path to comprehending the Great Dao. They emphasize maintaining the Middle Way in practice, neither clinging to emptiness nor to form.

Particularly notable is the imagery of refining the Golden Elixir (Jindan), the core of internal alchemy (Neidan): the "four great seas" symbolize the essence and vital energy (Jing-Qi) within the cauldron, while the "five Mount Sumerus" (cosmic centers in Buddhist cosmology) are refined, representing the transcendence of material constraints. When the Golden Elixir is perfected, it encompasses the Three Realms (Desire, Form, and Formlessness), marking the true attainment of the Dao.

The dialogue concludes with vivid metaphors describing the cultivation experience: a brush dipped in ink can write the mysteries of heaven and earth; the small dwelling of a practitioner (the "toad hermitage") conceals the capacity to encompass the cosmos; and after tasting all worldly flavors, one savors the supreme truth (the "cream of enlightenment"). These images all illustrate the transcendent experience of the practitioner's unity with the universe.

In the humble thatched hut of Qing'an, there wasn't even space to place a needle - the poverty was absolute. Yet several practitioners revealed the true essence of Daoist cultivation through their dialogue:

Hei'an declared that only the Golden Elixir (Jindan, referring to the core of Neidan practice) could transcend time and exist eternally. Ji'an believed true purity meant not being stained by even a speck of dust. Yin'an said the original human mind is fundamentally naked and completely unveiled. Xu'an pointed out one must strip away external appearances to perceive the original mind. Xi'an claimed that when cultivation reaches its ultimate state, the entire universe transforms into the Golden Elixir. Wei'an went further, saying the whole body would become purple-gold (symbolizing the highest state).

Ding Zai mentioned the singular Divine Elixir (cultivation achievement) being like a golden grain. The master, however, said these understandings still fell short - one must reach the state of "family broken, people gone, the heart utterly dead" (completely letting go of everything). He then used the metaphor of "Yellow Granny nurturing the infant" (Neidan terminology referring to spirit embryo cultivation), explaining the newly born spirit embryo remains fragile and struggles to endure in primordial chaos. Hei'an suggested returning to the state before the Wuji (primordial origin), while Xi'an spoke of comprehending the subtle mystery as fine as a millet grain.

The master pointed out these realizations still weren't ultimate. True cultivation neither clings to scriptural teachings nor completely abandons methods in pursuit of mystery. Hei'an believed complete release of all attachments constituted perfection, while Xi'an described it as natural as eating when hungry or sleeping when tired. The master emphasized "holding to the Middle Way without deviation" (Zhizhong Buyi) as the true essence.

Regarding cultivation methods, the master said practicing with eyes open makes attainment difficult, while closed eyes belong to Yin (overly passive) - the true skill lies in neither opening nor closing. Hei'an spoke of the "whole body becoming eyes" (state of total awareness), Ji'an suggested expanding one's vision to contemplate the origin. The master noted one must perceive the Heavenly Mind (cosmic truth) as clearly as having eyes atop one's head. Whether taking land routes or water routes (metaphors for various cultivation methods), one might encounter obstacles - only transcending dualities leads to the Dao.

Finally discussing the "Gateless Barrier" (Chan koan, here referring to the breakthrough in practice), the master said since originally there's no gate, why bother opening one? Hei'an remarked seeing through patterns isn't difficult, Xi'an proposed smashing all doubts with one punch, while Xu'an believed one could reach Chang'an (symbolizing liberation) without moving. The master praised Xu'an's insight as most commendable.

This dialogue records a discussion between Qing'an Yingchanzi and fellow Daoist practitioners regarding cultivation states. During seated meditation, when consciousness becomes turbid, one enters a yin-muddied state; excessive alertness, however, leads to emotional attachment. The state of neither scatteredness nor dullness may appear serene, yet subtle distractions still linger.

The fellow practitioners shared their insights: "Playing the zither to summon phoenixes" symbolizes natural purity; "releasing all attachments" leads to the Great Elixir (Neidan); the foundation of emptiness and stillness lies in sincerity; complete relinquishment of attachments naturally brings spiritual communion. The master pointed out these views still fall slightly short of true realization—the essential key is spontaneous ease.

Regarding cultivation practice, when entering the profound state of yaoming (deep absorption), deliberately maintaining the state becomes laborious, while complete abandonment risks mental scattering. The practitioners described the supreme state in various ways: the body merging with the Great Void; spiritual powers contained within the breath; body and mind dissolving into emptiness; absolute stillness that responds to all phenomena. The master employed paradoxical phrases like "midnight's high noon" to describe realization transcending ordinary logic.

Finally, they discussed cultivation's foundation: "Fishing for the moon in water" is delusion, "planting lotuses in fire" is vanity, and deliberate pursuit of the Dao becomes laborious. True spiritual powers never depart from the present moment; the genuine attainment is beyond cultivation and attainment. Yet one must maintain the Middle Way—like dwelling in a hermitage of heaven and earth with the eight directions as fences, where a "foolish fellow" (referring to pure awareness) alone gazes at the moon of celestial heart. The master concluded: Simply shatter all attachments to realize the primordial state before heaven and earth divided—throughout past and present, only this unmoving Suchness remains, where one directly apprehends the original void.

The master said: Only by attaining "the forgetting of both being and non-being" (transcending both "you" and "wu" to reach the absolute state) can one realize the Dharmakaya (the ultimate state of cultivation achievement). Then he continued: I bring forth the means to kill, yet pick up the knife that saves lives. Tell me, how should one understand this killing and reviving?

Hei'an (disciple's Dharma name) replied: Reviving is awakening from previous death. Xi'an (another disciple) said: One must sever all cycles of life and death. The master said: Your two knives still lack sharpened edges. The disciples responded: The Dharma King's (referring to supreme truth) decree is right here.

The master continued his teaching: Like a radiant jewel, its surface boundless while its core remains empty. Gently picked up yet finding nowhere to place it. Hei'an comprehended: Revealing one's true nature alone brings freedom. Xu'an said: The entire universe is filled with Tathata (ultimate truth). Xi'an said: Both releasing and gathering are contained within. Yi'an said: The Primordial Origin (source of Dao) exists alone within this. The master laughed: Your interpretations still cling to form. Ah, you've even lured this toad (metaphor for cultivator) to dwell inside.

The master continued: Forge a red-hot iron pellet, crimson as the blazing sun, vast as the sky, delivering it into everyone's mouth with tongs. Hei'an said: Chewing reveals the cooling taste of Chan. Xi'an said: Only when thoroughly chewed does one know its true flavor. The master concluded: Only when liver and intestines completely dissolve will one's true nature become firm.

The master said: My poetic games with fellow cultivators aren't about poetry but the Dao. Whoever comprehends the Dao through poetry attains the supreme and perfect wondrous truth. Now compose quatrains on "Turning Heretics to Orthodoxy," avoiding direct mention of the theme.

Hei'an composed:

Laughable how lost souls forget their true home

Mistaking false elders for dear fathers

Extending the hand of Wuwei (non-action)

Directly pointing to Chang'an (symbolic cultivation goal) unobstructed

Shi'an (another disciple) responded:

Thousands stray on winding bypaths

Each mistaking thieves for fathers

Today called to turn around

They find Penglai's (immortal realm) path wide open

Jia'an (disciple) continued:

Three thousand lesser methods dazzle like flowers

Don't confuse them and misidentify fathers

Suddenly pulled back to the Great Dao

Full moon hangs cloudless in the sky

The master concluded:

Pitiful those hugging thieves while crying injustice

Eyes wide open yet failing to recognize truth

Don't blame Qing'an for striking hard

Only seeking to open hearts without obstruction

The fifth volume, ninth chapter of Qing'an Yingchanzi's recorded sayings, compiled and recorded by disciple Zhang Yingtan, contains miscellaneous discussions and dedicatory poems.

In the poem dedicated to Dongxi, it is said: The foundation of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice lies in guarding the heart-mind and preventing external disturbances. When the Shen (spirit) achieves true stillness, the Yin-Yang energies within (symbolized by the fire of Li and the lead-mercury of Kan, representing spirit and vital essence) will naturally harmonize. Like using the "thunder chariot" (metaphor for internal Qi movement) to propel "water-metal" (kidney water and lung metal), tempered through the "earth of Kun" (spleen earth) and nourished by "heavenly ren" (true water of the kidneys). The resulting "white snow" (pure primordial Qi) condenses in the Dantian (golden cauldron), while "yellow sprouts" (vital essence) grow at the "jade hairpin" (Baihui point at the crown). These are the true seeds of cultivation, far surpassing ordinary medicinal herbs like scrophularia.

Another poem states: After comprehending the profound mystery of deep meditation, one need not fear worldly disturbances (represented by the "two rats" of afflictions). Though some may understand this principle, without genuine practice they cannot attain realization. Compassion should be vast as the ocean, wisdom sharp as gold. Cultivation must balance the internal Zi-Wu meridians (Governing and Conception vessels), transcending external Ding-Ren (cardinal directions). True practice requires no forced control, like friends naturally gathering. The most mysterious state can only be fully realized by sages like Zeng Shen.

In the eulogy for Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) inscribed for Han Zai: This Elder Lü appears gentle yet contains unfathomable depth, floating gracefully like an immortal. With the green serpent sword at his waist (Lü's ritual implement), he transmits the Purple Ultimate alchemy (highest cultivation method). Upon closer examination, how marvelous! Even more marvelous - the divine sword in his sleeve never reveals its edge, traversing heaven and earth yet remaining unrecognized.

Inscription for Layman Wang's portrait of Venerable Baogong: This monk has the strangest temper, wielding his staff through thirty-six battles, making all manner of odd expressions. Ah! Only when completely tearing off his face does his true countenance appear.

Inscription for Layman Zhang's portrait of Budai Monk: This fat fellow is the greatest thief - what's hidden in his cloth sack none can know. Ah! Though the thief's heart is fearful, his laughter betrays the truth.

Inscription for Layman Li's portrait of Lü Gong: What manner of man is this bearded one? So ancient and peculiar, dwelling hidden in the red dust yet transcending worldly ties. Having come here now, all his private treasures are exposed. Tell me then - where is the thief? Ha! The green serpent sword hides in his sleeve, the entire cosmos contained within a single grain of rice.

Inscription for the portrait of Patriarch Wang (Wang Chongyang) dedicated to virtuous friends: How ugly this old man appears - sparse hair like whiskers, eyes large as a mouth. Claiming transmission from the Fifth Patriarch (Wang Xuanfu), people call him teacher of the Seven Perfected (Quanzhen Seven Masters). Asked what is the Dao? See clearly then embrace it directly.

Inscription for Layman Zhao's portrait of Three Immortals: The founding master Qing'an and Huang Pang - Huang Pang appears completely unremarkable, seemingly useless in every way yet receiving offerings.

Here we explore the spiritual states and cultivation insights of several Daoist practitioners. The adept known as Jie'an (Daoist name), despite having read ten thousand volumes, claimed to "not comprehend a single character," indicating that the true Dao transcends written words. Casting off worldly attachments like an actor discarding theatrical costumes, he sought the indestructible true nature.

The gatha of adept Liachan states: The heart-mind is as perfectly luminous as the full moon, while original nature is as transparent as the open sky—such awakening can illuminate all heaven and earth.

Hei'an's spiritual realm knows no distinction between inner and outer; his expansive consciousness embraces all things, vast and radiant as the cosmos itself.

Danzhan's alchemical cultivation reveals: The Golden Elixir (Jindan, core of internal alchemy) and the lunar toad (symbolizing lunar essence) complement each other. When the elixir is perfected, one sheds the mortal form like a toad molting its skin, achieving merit equal to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi Tianzun, highest Daoist deity).

Yichan describes meditative absorption: The mind-mirror reflects sky-like purity, wisdom flows with ocean-like clarity—a single moment of awakening illuminates all existence. Even were heaven and earth to crumble, the true nature would still shine with undiminished radiance.

Yian attained complete non-attachment through the Ninefold Revolving Golden Elixir (highest stage of internal alchemy), ultimately transcending the physical body to emit great light from the crown that illuminates the trichiliocosm (three thousandfold universe).

In praising Adept Li Daizhao, the text notes: He purified worldly delusions until his heart became like the bright moon. The most profound cultivation methods become transparent before true adepts, as all approaches ultimately return to the One.

The commendation for Adept Qian Daizhao describes how his jade comb (ritual implement) parts the mists while his golden blade (symbolizing wisdom) refines the heart-moon. The subtlest mysteries become fully comprehensible in his presence.

Subsequent passages employ allegory to critique cultivation pitfalls: The indecisive "clumsy man" in the painting resembles half-hearted practitioners still entangled in mundane affairs; the meditating monkey with untamed wildness must completely relinquish attachments to attain true freedom; the eye-closing ape's feigned composure should instead achieve genuine unity of spirit and mind.

Finally, the Black Killer Talisman (Heisha Fu) is praised: Using emptiness as paper and Mount Sumeru (Buddhist cosmic axis) as brush, it manifests numinous efficacy beyond comprehension. The sword eulogy declares: This "life-taking blade" (metaphor for wisdom severing afflictions) cuts through all attachments—beheading Buddhas (transcending Buddhist attachments) and slaying ghosts (dispelling heterodox views) alike.

This passage contains the recorded sayings of the Yuan dynasty Daoist master Li Qing'an (also known as Qing'an Yingchanzi), using metaphorical language to expound essential cultivation principles. I'll explain it section by section:

The pancake metaphor: Just as water and flour must be kneaded into dough, how can true flavor emerge without the proper firing process? When handed to you directly, you can taste its essence without even needing to use your teeth.

The maltose metaphor: Extract the juice of "yellow sprouts" (a Neidan term referring to the initial movement of primordial Qi), then refine it through controlled firing. Sticky as phoenix glue, sweet as jackfruit. The confused will find it gluing their jaws shut, while true practitioners need no words.

The gourd metaphor: This vessel contains the Primordial Qi (cosmic source energy). When you split open this perfectly round gourd, grasp its true meaning without misunderstanding. This "handle" (representing the key to cultivation) has wondrous applications - raised, it can obscure sun and moon; lowered, it brings calm winds and still waters.

The jest about Daoist topknots: What's so remarkable about this hairstyle? It's just propping a staff while riding an iron ox backwards (a common Daoist image).

Self-mockery of true appearance: This face follows no ordinary rules, that one isn't it either - when was there ever a "you"? If you call me Li Qing'an, it's like seeing a ghost.

The fan metaphor: Perfectly round and complete, when waved it brings bright moon and cool breeze. Tell me, do you see it or not? No need to ask - I'm just giving you a hint. One wave and you'll understand.

On the Golden Elixir (ultimate achievement of Neidan practice): This eternal existence has no form or substance, neither increasing nor decreasing. Sharper than cut gold, more radiant than the sun. Buddhists call it the Mysterious Pearl, Confucians name it Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), Daoists term it the Golden Elixir. Three names for one essence, right before your eyes yet unknown to the world - this is it, doubt no more.

The final two cultivation diagrams: The first explains the "stacking" method - shedding ordinary form and nurturing Jing-Qi to achieve the Golden Elixir. The second illustrates the "head" method - stabilizing the body and clarifying the mind to concentrate Shen and realize the origin. The accompanying text details the cultivation sequence: first refining form with primordial Shen, then preserving Jing to control Qi, subsequently stabilizing Shen to settle nature, ultimately illuminating the mind to realize the origin. This leads to the immortal state of vibrant Shen, settled Qi, concentrated Jing and stabilized form - completing the Golden Elixir path of physical and spiritual transformation.

The passage elucidates the essential principles of Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation. To refine the primordial Shen (spirit, one's innate spiritual nature), one must first cultivate the primordial Jing (essence, the foundational energy of life); to cultivate Jing, one must first regulate Qi (vital energy); and the precondition for regulating Qi lies in maintaining inner stillness and focused awareness.

When thoughts settle into tranquility, the mind becomes clear and luminous, the Shen naturally attains agility, and Qi stabilizes into cohesive concentration. With Qi firmly anchored, Jing condenses; with Jing condensed, the physical form gains solidity; and with the form solidified, the Yang Shen (the perfected body of pure Yang cultivated through practice) can be achieved, reaching the state of enduring vitality and perpetual clarity. The advanced methods described in alchemical texts as "golden liquid refining the form" and "golden liquid returning to the elixir" both embody this core principle.

A metaphorical verse further illustrates the process: Just as refining medicine in a golden furnace requires placing the Wood-natured Shen (represented by the number eight, symbolizing Wood) and Metal-natured emotional consciousness into the central earthen cauldron (a metaphor for the middle Dantian), they must be continuously tempered by the fire of Shen. The longer the refinement, the more solid and radiant the elixir becomes, ultimately culminating in the Golden Elixir.

During practice, one must tend to the furnace fire with utmost care. When Shen enters its designated cavity (specific acupoints), it resembles medicinal ingredients entering the furnace—any error must be strictly guarded against. The two crucial elements of practice—"lead" (representing Jing) and "mercury" (representing Shen)—are highly volatile; the slightest mishap can undo all progress.

When the body lacks stability (Earth symbolizes the physical form), it resembles a roaring tiger charging wildly, leading to the dissipation of Jing; when the mind is unsettled (the fire element, represented by the celestial stems Bing and Ding, symbolizes the heart), it resembles a soaring dragon in flight, causing Qi to scatter. These lines employ the imagery of "flying lead and fleeing mercury" to depict the loss of control over Jing, Qi, and Shen.

When the practitioner abides in their true nature (the "master" refers to the innate authentic self), allowing Shen to dwell peacefully in its rightful place, all delusional thoughts and desires (Yin demons) are naturally subdued. If the cultivator maintains immobility of body and mind, the convergence of Shen and Qi can be achieved. When body and mind shine as brightly as the sun and moon, the radiant brilliance of the most precious Golden Elixir will manifest.

This scripture employs metaphorical language to elucidate the essential principles of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. The human body is likened to the sun and moon, with its vital essences being the internal Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). At advanced stages of cultivation, these refined substances coalesce into a supreme treasure that radiates light illuminating heaven and earth.

The crux of practice lies in unifying the "Three Primordials" (Jing, Qi, and Shen) into one. Heaven's One (water) generates Jing, Earth's Two (fire) produces Qi, and Heaven's Three (wood) gives rise to Shen - when these three merge, one returns to the original source. "Golden Lord" (lead) symbolizes emotional desires, while the "infant" represents the sacred embryo (the fruition of cultivation). When desires are exhausted and delusive thoughts cease, the sacred embryo manifests.

Lead (Jing) and mercury (Qi) meet in the Three Palaces (upper, middle, and lower Dantian). The Golden Lord (emotion) from the Eastern Sea (original nature) must undergo repeated refinement - transforming emotion back to nature through the fire of intention - before achieving the supreme treasure. The foundation of cultivation resides in one's innate Yuanqi (the substance of the Golden Elixir) and Yuanjing (its function); seeking externally is a fundamental error.

The Wood Liquid (mercury) in the Gen Palace (spleen earth) forms the root of the Golden Elixir. The phrase "sun dwelling in the moon's cave" (yang entering yin's position) refers to drawing from Kan (kidney water) to replenish Li (heart fire), extracting lead (gathering essence) to supplement mercury (refining qi). This resembles the union of the infant (lead) and the maiden (mercury), where metal and wood intermingle, and water and fire achieve harmony.

When the ordinary mind dies, the Yuanshen (primordial spirit) arises; with the spirit's awakening, wisdom becomes unobstructed. Through symbolic language, this scripture reveals the core principles of balancing yin-yang and transforming essence into qi in Neidan practice.

The Dao cultivator should maintain stillness of body and mind like withered wood and dead ashes, free from deluded thoughts. When cultivation reaches maturity, the luminous nature of wisdom will manifest in its fullness. Just as lead (representing kidney essence/Jing) and mercury (representing heart spirit/Shen) fuse and coagulate in alchemical practice, when cultivation reaches completion, the ocean of desires naturally dries up, and one's innate nature merges into seamless unity—then lead and mercury spontaneously unite. When the firing process (timing in cultivation) achieves perfection, one transcends the constraints of physical form.

The Golden Elixir (Jindan, representing cultivation attainment) resembles a radiant crimson pearl illuminating the heavens. This "Great Elixir" refers to the state of perfect realization—not an external object, but the innate true nature attained through cultivation. Partaking of this Golden Elixir fruition leads to the certification of Golden Immortality (the highest attainment).

Cultivation first requires understanding the principle of "Three-Two-One," referring to spirit (original spirit/Yuanshen), Qi (primordial energy/Yuanqi), and essence (primordial essence/Yuanjing). Note these aren't the postnatal Jing, Qi, and Shen, but their prenatal, primordial counterparts—a distinction of utmost importance.

During practice, one must not indulge wandering thoughts. In cultivation, a single mental movement causes the heart fire to flare upward, while a settled mind naturally extinguishes ignorance and afflictions. Constant vigilance over one's thoughts is essential.

If people today could truly believe my words—yet regrettably, most practitioners cling rigidly to texts and superficial forms, never grasping the true meaning. Laozi said: "My words are easy to understand, yet people struggle to truly practice them"—precisely because their faith is insufficient.

"Mastering the cosmos to dwell with the true host": Here "cosmos" (Qiankun) symbolizes body and mind. The genuine practitioner who truly believes can gather body and mind to recognize their original face. Meeting this true self directly reveals the truth of life, death, and all comings and goings.

"Kan water's ripples arise from lacking earth": The Kan trigram represents kidney water—its turbulent waves stem from unconsolidated kidney essence; "lacking earth" indicates bodily instability. As the alchemical texts state: "True earth controls true lead."

"When celestial nature stirs thoughts, the mind is born": When deluded thoughts arise from original nature, scattered mind emerges. The alchemical classics' teaching that "true lead controls true mercury" means using primordial essence to stabilize the spirit.

This scripture elucidates the essential principles of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. To stabilize the "mercury furnace" (referring to the lower Dantian in the human body), one must first consolidate Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). When essence and energy are firmly grounded, the primordial Qi within the furnace will coalesce, allowing the "lead and mercury" (symbolizing Yin and Yang energies) to naturally unite. As the alchemical classic states: "When lead and mercury return to the earthen cauldron," it describes the process of gathering Yin-Yang energies back to the Dantian.

The "eight metals" mentioned in "tempering the eight metals within the cauldron" represent human emotions and innate nature, while the "cauldron" signifies the Yellow Court (middle Dantian). When one's temperament returns to the central palace, body and mind attain purity and tranquility. This state corresponds to the alchemical saying: "When body and mind dwell in stillness without movement."

Should sleep demons disturb one's practice, the adept must "extract fire from water" (kindling true Yang within deep stillness) during the twilight state between wakefulness and sleep, refining the "metal of the east" (lung metal) through breath regulation and mental stabilization. When body and mind achieve perfect stillness, the metals and woods (lungs and liver) naturally harmonize. As innate nature becomes perfectly clear and bright, all distracting thoughts spontaneously cease.

Just as a wheel's rotation depends on its axle, human actions are governed by the heart-mind. Understanding this principle leads to the realization of Quanzhen (Complete Perfection). The "three palaces" (upper, middle, and lower Dantian) shine like sun and moon, the three treasures (Jing, Qi, Shen) unite as one, and the dual substances of Yin-Yang reach perfect consummation, illuminating heaven and earth.

Master Li Daochun (known as Yingchanzi of Qing'an) composed these acrostic poems not for literary cleverness, but to clarify the relationship between substance and function in Golden Elixir cultivation, demonstrating the unity of subtlety and manifestation. The repetitive verse structure reveals the Elixir's fundamental nature, while the acrostic form illustrates its practical application. The hidden structure hints at the profound mysteries of alchemical Dao, while the self-explanatory verses explicitly convey essential methods. Those who can comprehend the diagrams and attain awakening will grasp the essence of Golden Elixir practice. Therefore, this manual is recorded to share with fellow practitioners.

The disciple Cai Zhiyi, a follower of the Daoist master Qing'an Yingchanzi, recorded this master-disciple dialogue exploring the core mysteries of Daoist cultivation. The master revealed: All ancestral masters and realized adepts throughout history have grasped the supreme orthodox Dao (the Way), and these teachings have been transmitted in the world to deliver sentient beings. The disciple Ding'an confessed his beginner's ignorance and earnestly requested the master's guidance.

The master explained that this so-called "supreme orthodox truth" transcends all things—it is so profoundly mysterious that it cannot be described through form, yet perfectly natural and exquisitely subtle. The ancients reluctantly named it "Dao," and all immortal sages attained realization through cultivating and verifying this truth. The essential method of "Golden Elixir" (Jindan) practice transmitted heart-to-heart by ancestral masters across generations is precisely the embodiment of this supreme Dao.

When the disciple asked why the metaphor of "Golden Elixir" was used, the master elaborated: "Gold" represents indestructible permanence, while "Elixir" symbolizes flawless perfection. Buddhists call it "perfect enlightenment," Confucians name it "Supreme Ultimate" (Taiji), but all ultimately point to humanity's inherently luminous true nature. This true nature never decays—the more one cultivates it, the brighter it shines. Though the Three Teachings use different terms (Buddhism: true suchness; Confucianism: Supreme Ultimate; Daoism: Golden Elixir), they refer to the same fundamental truth.

The Book of Changes states: "The Supreme Ultimate gives rise to the Two Modes (Yin-Yang)." Here, the Supreme Ultimate represents the formless, spontaneous Dao-body, while the Two Modes correspond to the dual energies of Yin and Yang. As humans live between heaven and earth, our bodies inherently contain the Dao of the Three Powers (heaven-earth-humanity). In cultivation practice, the Supreme Ultimate serves as the foundation of the Golden Elixir, while the Two Modes correspond to body-mind refinement. The "lead and mercury" mentioned here aren't physical medicinal substances, but rather the body's intrinsic vital essence (Yuanjing) and spiritual essence (Yuanshen). When body and mind stabilize and vital energies coalesce, they form what we call the "Elixir"—which is essentially awakened true nature, with the luminous awareness manifesting from it constituting the realized state of Elixir completion.

This scripture elucidates the essential principles of cultivating Neidan (internal alchemy), the core practice of Daoist cultivation. Many practitioners today have strayed from the true path—some refining the "five metals and eight minerals" (mineral-based elixirs), others gathering external essences from clouds, sunlight, or moonlight, while still others focus on minor techniques like Baduanjin (health exercises) or Daoyin massage. Though these methods appear varied, they all mistake the branch for the root, making it nearly impossible to attain the true Golden Elixir (Jindan).

The authentic path of cultivation is remarkably simple: the key lies in mastering oneself. Though the transformative workings of heaven and earth (cosmic laws) may seem elusive, they are in fact mirrored within our own bodies. Treat the physical form as the alchemical cauldron, Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) as water and fire, body and mind as Yin-Yang, and innate nature as the "black raven and jade rabbit" (symbolizing sun and moon). In practice, one must observe proper timing, regulate the "advancing fire and retreating talisman" (breath and intention) according to natural rhythms, circulate the dual forces of Yin and Yang within, and ultimately unify the "three natures" (Jing, Qi, and Shen/spirit) to return to the primordial source.

Disciple Ding’an asked: "Isn’t seizing the transformative power of heaven and earth exceedingly difficult?" The master replied: "It’s all within yourself—what difficulty could there be? Heaven and earth are your physical form; water and fire are your Jing and Qi; Yin and Yang are your body and mind; the raven and rabbit are your innate nature. Thus, simply take your form as the cauldron and refine your essence as water and fire—that is all."

This passage elucidates the core Daoist cultivation concept of the "Mysterious Pass" (Xuanguan), referring to the crucial gateway or state in spiritual practice. The author begins by using nature as a metaphor for the human body, illustrating that body and mind serve as the fundamental materials for cultivation, much like fire transforms substances. The text enumerates common misconceptions—some practitioners mistakenly locate the Mysterious Pass between the eyebrows, at the navel, or between the kidneys—all of which represent attachments to physical forms.

The genuine "Center" (Zhong, synonymous with Xuanguan) is not a spatial midpoint but a cultivated state: what Chan Buddhism describes as the "original face" when neither good nor evil is contemplated; what Confucianism terms the tranquil state before emotions arise; what Daoism calls the condition of unmoving thought. As the Yijing (Book of Changes) describes, "absolute stillness without movement" constitutes the substance of the Center, while "responsive communion" manifests its wondrous function. Laozi's admonition to "reach utmost emptiness and maintain perfect stillness," along with the Fu hexagram's imagery of a single yang line emerging beneath five yin lines, all reveal that the movement arising from extreme stillness marks the locus of the Mysterious Pass.

The author emphasizes experiencing this state throughout daily life (the "twelve two-hour periods" representing the full day) rather than seeking it externally. This state of "Center" constitutes the shared cultivation secret across China's three teachings (Daoism, Buddhism, Confucianism), ineffable in its entirety—hence the sages used the single character "Center" to awaken later generations.

The essence of cultivation lies in observing the rise and fall of one's thoughts with focused effort. Through sustained practice, one naturally becomes aware of the Mysterious Pass (Xuanguan, the key energy portal connecting the human body with heaven and earth). Once this threshold is realized, the adept masters the regulation of the "medicinal substances" (Jing, Qi, and Shen) and the "firing times" (tempo of practice) required for internal alchemy (Neidan), ultimately achieving complete physical and spiritual transformation.

"Gathering the medicinal substances" refers to collecting the True Lead (primordial essence) and True Mercury (primordial spirit) within the body. These substances emerge at specific moments—not according to external cycles like the winter solstice, lunar phases, or the midnight hour. As ancient masters taught: "Alchemy need not await the solstice, for the birth of Yang arises spontaneously within; when Lead and Mercury unite like the first crescent moon, immediate gathering is essential—waiting for full moon means missing the crucial window."

After the union of Yin and Yang energies, discernment in moderation becomes vital. Just as the full moon marks the end of gathering, the practitioner's "firing process" mirrors nature's rhythms: seasonal transitions govern the intensity of practice, while lunar waxing and waning symbolize the accumulation and reduction of medicinal substances. For instance, the winter solstice corresponds to the Fu hexagram (initial Yang resurgence), with Yang growing progressively until reaching pure Yang (Qian hexagram) by the fourth month; after the summer solstice, Yin energy gradually ascends, culminating in pure Yin (Kun hexagram) by the tenth month—an endless cycle.

Yet some practitioners rigidly adhere to superficial forms, insisting on "advancing the fire" only at the solstice or "retiring the tally" at midsummer, pausing practice during equinoxes for ritual cleansing—missing the essence entirely. Seeing such misunderstandings, ancient sages condensed the annual cycle into a lunar month: using new and full moons to represent solstices, and quarter moons for equinoxes. When later adepts fixated on lunar phases, the sages further compressed the process into a single day: midnight and noon mirroring solstices, dawn and dusk reflecting equinoxes.

Modern enlightened masters clarify this further: a mere quarter-hour of practice contains the complete annual rhythm. They emphasize: "Before our birth, what meaning had years, months, or hours? These were but metaphors devised by sages to guide cultivation." Tragically, those clinging to literal interpretations become entangled in appearances, obscuring the true path of practice.

The path of cultivation becomes mere vexation if one clings rigidly to literal interpretations. Let me illuminate the essence directly: When the kidney water (Gui Water) stirs within your body, this signals the nascent emergence of yang energy (One Yang). As yang ascends and yin descends, the Three Yang state takes form. When yin and yang separate, the Four Yang manifestation appears, akin to the waxing crescent moon in the second lunar month. At mao hour (5-7 AM), one should perform the "bathing" practice (temporarily pausing cultivation to adjust), then resume "stoking the fire" (intensifying practice). When yin-yang energies fully merge with spiritual vitality, the perfected Six Yang state is achieved.

After the communion of yin-yang and the fusion of shen (spirit) and qi, one must understand timely cessation. Greedy advancement will nullify all previous efforts. Like the moon waning after fullness (on the 15th day), forceful practice becomes inappropriate—this is when "retracting the talisman" (reducing intensity) is required. This process symbolizes the birth of One Yin. The separation of yin-yang forms Three Yin, and their realignment requires another bathing period, resembling the waning moon of the eighth lunar month, adjusted during you hour (5-7 PM). Upon reaching Six Yin, the extreme yin births yang anew—the entire celestial cycle completes in an instant. Persistent practice following this rhythm gradually condenses internal energy from formlessness to form, ultimately crystallizing the Sacred Embryo (neidan), achieving what we call "elixir completion."

Ding'an inquired: "Master, please expound further on the operational details and terminology of celestial cycle fire phases." The master replied: "These varied names are but metaphors—their core never strays from 'body and mind.' In practice, one must: concentrate spirit in quiet listening, lower the gaze for inner vision, press the tongue against the palate, regulate breathing, maintain bodily stillness (the 'Four Greats'—earth, water, fire, wind—representing physical form), and return hun, po, and yi to their rightful places. This is called 'Five Qi Paying Homage to the Origin'; gathering energy at the central palace (dantian) is termed 'Gathering the Five Phases.' The unmoving mind resembles a dragon's silent hymn, the still body mirrors a tiger's quiet repose—this unified stillness constitutes 'subduing the dragon and taming the tiger.'

Expressed through jing-qi symbolism, we speak of turtle-snake (Black Tortoise of the North); through body-mind analogy, dragon-tiger (Azure Dragon and White Tiger). Their unification forms the 'Harmonious Four Symbols.' Governing emotions with rationality is called 'metal-wood union' (the controlling relationship transforming into mutual nourishment); guiding coarse qi with refined essence is 'water-fire interaction.' Wood and fire belong to yang (East 3 + South 2 sum to 5), water and metal to yin (North 1 + West 4 combine as 5), while central earth corresponds to Wu-Ji's primordial five. When heart, intention, and body unite ('three families meeting'), they crystallize the 'infant' (neidan embryo)—this is the mystery of 'Three-Fives Fusion.' The entire process comprises refining essence into qi, qi into shen, and shen returning to emptiness—collectively termed 'Three Flowers Gathering at the Summit.' Many practitioners today mistake the three passes (coccyx, jiaji spine point, and jade pillow) for the ultimate stages, when these are merely preliminary gates."

The foundation of cultivation lies not in rigid adherence to methods, but in grasping the fleeting moment when thoughts arise—this is the true Mysterious Feminine Gate (referring to the source of life). Many today mistakenly focus on the nose and mouth as the key to practice, when in fact the true essence lies in the harmony of body, mind, and intention.

The innate nature concealed within the heart is like quicksilver (mercury) hidden in sand, while the primordial Qi (vital energy) within the body resembles true gold within water. Gold inherently generates water, being its source; when true gold returns to water, it is like a mother concealed within her unborn child—this is the profound meaning of "the mother hidden in the child's womb." In cultivation, one must ensure that external disturbances do not enter the heart, and internal true Qi does not leak outward—this is called "solid containment"; maintaining stillness is called "nurturing the fire"; following natural flow is called "application"; focused sincerity is called "guarding the city"; and subduing distracting thoughts is called "battlefield engagement."

True mercury (the original spirit) is called the "charming maiden," while true lead (the original essence) is called the "infant." The intention that harmonizes these two is termed the "yellow matchmaker," and the relationship between nature and emotion is likened to husband and wife. When the mind becomes clear and intention settles, when the nature is tranquil yet the spirit is lively, when Yin and Yang energies merge, and the three treasures (essence, Qi, and spirit) converge, the "sacred embryo" takes form. Tenderly nurturing this spiritual foundation is called "gentle nourishment"—one must care for it as a dragon guards its pearl or a hen broods over her eggs, for the slightest negligence can undo all progress.

When the Yang spirit manifests, it is called "shedding the embryo"; returning to the source of life is called "transcendence"; and ultimately breaking free from the constraints of emptiness is called "perfect realization." Some ask whether the Golden Elixir can be seen once refined—the answer is that it can be perceived but has no form. "Golden Elixir" is merely a provisional name; its essence is formless and imageless. This "seeing" is not with physical eyes but with the eye of the heart. Just as the great wind cannot be seen yet is known through swaying trees and churning waves, so too is the nature of the Golden Elixir profoundly mysterious.

In the early stages of cultivation, one must grasp the principle of mutual generation between being and non-being, and the interplay of movement and stillness. When the work is accomplished, all attachments are released, transcending distinctions between movement and stillness, being and non-being. Then the Mysterious Pearl (Golden Elixir) naturally appears, and the Supreme One (the source of Dao) returns to its pristine purity. Achieving the dual cultivation of nature and life, where form and spirit both reach perfection, one freely moves between being and non-being, wandering carefree through heaven and earth, ultimately attaining the fruition of a Golden Immortal.

This passage reveals the essence of pursuing truth through Daoist cultivation. Spiritual practice is like crossing a river that requires a boat, but once reaching the other shore, the boat is no longer needed (symbolizing how scriptures are merely tools). The ancient saying "forget the snare after catching the hare, forget the trap after catching the fish" conveys this very principle. These words of mine shouldn't be interpreted rigidly either—one must carefully savor their true meaning. Perhaps a single phrase might suddenly illuminate your understanding, directly leading you into the state of Wuwei (non-action). Yet deeper mysteries cannot be plainly spoken; you must perceive what lies beyond the words through personal realization, which will naturally dawn when your practice matures. There are even more profound oral instructions that require direct transmission from a master, demanding earnest practice. To conclude with a gatha: Study this alchemical scripture with sincere contemplation, for true comprehension connects you with the Dao.

Regarding methods for cultivating mind and nature, there's actually no fixed sequence. Some say one must first understand principles, then cultivate nature, and finally master life. Others maintain these three can be accomplished simultaneously. Contemporary practitioners often struggle to discern which approach is correct. Let me clarify: Those of average capacity should progress step by step—first comprehending universal principles, as complete understanding is necessary to perceive one's true nature, with even slight confusion creating obstacles. Only after fully realizing one's innate nature can one master life. But those of superior capacity differ—understanding one principle illuminates all principles, allowing simultaneous accomplishment in both nature cultivation and life mastery, much like how Chan Buddhism integrates precepts, meditation, and wisdom as one. Those of lesser capacity must eliminate delusions to uphold precepts, sit immobile to enter meditation, and silently contemplate to generate wisdom. The superior practitioners differ—their natural adherence to precepts brings meditation, and their natural meditation generates wisdom, accomplishing all three simultaneously. Internal alchemy (Neidan) follows the same pattern: Gradual methods first refine Jing (essence) into Qi (vital energy), then Qi into Shen (spirit), finally returning Shen to emptiness; sudden teachings treat essence, energy and spirit as primordial ingredients for simultaneous refinement. Thus, how could the study of nature and principles possibly have fixed sequences? Insisting on rigid order only confines one to inferior methods.

Master Zhan of Yi'an was a virtuous official in Xinghua County who governed with benevolence, benefiting the people. Though immersed in worldly affairs, his heart remained attuned to the pursuit of the mysterious Dao, truly embodying the ideal of a transcendent sage dwelling within the mundane world. One day, he visited my abode of practice (the "Toad Grotto") seeking guidance. When I briefly mentioned cultivation methods, his responses revealed such extraordinary insight that I felt compelled to offer a serious reply. Thus, I composed these nine essential principles of practice for him, corresponding to the Daoist alchemical doctrine of the Ninefold Return of the Golden Elixir (Jindan).

The text elucidates the profound mysteries of Golden Elixir cultivation while drawing upon the deep principles of Chan Buddhism for mutual verification. Through careful study and contemplation of its meanings, one can naturally transcend the duality of self and object, dissolving all oppositional views. For those seeking the essential method to ascend from the ordinary to the sacred, the key lies precisely here—hence its title The Shortcut to Attaining the True Dao.

The first principle is understanding the crucial timing of cultivation. To refine the Golden Elixir, one must first comprehend where to begin. Without knowing the entry point, no amount of intelligence or cleverness will suffice. As Master Ziyang (Zhang Boduan, patriarch of the Southern Lineage of Daoism) said: "Even with wisdom surpassing that of virtuous sages like Yan Hui or Min Ziqian, without guidance from an enlightened teacher, one cannot penetrate the mystery." A true master must indicate the starting point of practice, and having found this starting point, one must then grasp the proper timing. This "timing" refers to the "single Yang moment" (the initial stirring of Yang energy within the body). Many mistakenly believe this refers specifically to the midnight hour (Zi hour), but this is incorrect. While fixating on exact clock times is misguided, claiming there is no timing at all is equally wrong. Master Lü Dongbin taught to "refine the self while awaiting the proper time," while Master Ziyang advised that "when lead appears as Gui arises, one must urgently gather it." Scriptures state that "when the time comes, the spirit will know." Through careful contemplation, one realizes that when the Gui-water (kidney essence) begins to stir within, that is precisely the single Yang moment. It is like standing at a stream's source, quietly observing the clouds—the optimal timing becomes naturally apparent.

The second principle is recognizing true lead and true mercury. After understanding the timing, one must discern authentic lead and mercury. These terms do not refer to ordinary black lead, cinnabar, or quicksilver—external substances—but rather to two innate elements within the human body (original essence and original spirit), provisionally termed "medicinal substances." The mysterious interaction between these two substances is metaphorically described using the alchemical imagery of lead and mercury.

Lead (referring to the body's original essence, Jing) has a nature prone to scattering, while mercury (referring to the body's original spirit, Shen) tends to dissipate easily. Yet when lead encounters mercury, it no longer scatters, and mercury meeting lead ceases to dissipate. The same principle applies to the "medicinal substances" (Jing, Qi, and Shen) within the human body required for cultivation. Wondering where these substances reside? Observe the rising mist between the southern and northern mountains—there lies your answer.

There are three key points in gathering these medicinal substances into the furnace (Dantian): Merely recognizing them is unremarkable—true skill lies in the act of collection. The crux lies in the interplay of movement and stillness—once captured during these transitions, the substances must be delivered to the Wuwei (non-action) crucible of creation (the Dantian). Refined by the Samadhi True Fire (primordial Qi), they ultimately coalesce into purple elixirs and mystical pearls (Neidan). Consuming these grants longevity and luminous vision. How to comprehend this state of forming mystical pearls? It resembles seizing endless clouds amidst emerald peaks or scooping the moon's reflection from an azure pool.

The secret of "extracting lead and replenishing mercury" (regulating Jing and Qi) is this: Understanding alchemy means grasping extraction and replenishment. This process entails taking from excess to supplement deficiency. All sentient beings—celestials, asuras, and humans alike—share this imbalance: excessive desires yet deficient nature, rampant distractions yet scarce true mind, abundant Jing yet insufficient Qi. Thus, one must forget distractions to nurture innate nature, rein in wandering thoughts to return to the original mind, and refine Jing into primordial Qi—this is extraction-replenishment's true meaning. Yet merely balancing excess and deficiency isn't the ultimate state; higher still is reaching natural equilibrium without extraction or replenishment. What is this state? It's neither surplus nor lack—effortlessly attaining perfect measure.

The essence of "fire timing and celestial cycles" (mind regulation during practice) lies here: At the stage of neither extraction nor replenishment, fire timing finds its perfect application. True fire has no fixed pattern—don't confine timing to rigid forms. These two principles have bewildered multitudes while enlightening others. Simply stated: Fire is the heart-mind, timing is intention. Using the mind to refine distractions constitutes fire timing. When thoughts stabilize and distractions cease, fire timing accomplishes itself naturally. But beware—neither cling to nor completely detach from the mind. Detachment breeds delusion; attachment creates obstructions. So how to proceed? Like nature's seamless seasons: cold follows heat, autumn harvest precedes winter storage.

The secret of "maintaining fullness and securing attainment" (preserving cultivation achievements) is this: Practice requires knowing how to sustain moderation. Without understanding this principle, prior efforts become wasted. Like the auspicious purple Qi...

Master Yang (an accomplished Daoist practitioner) once said that relentlessly pursuing perfection without understanding moderation will inevitably lead to sudden dangers in the heart. The Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Laozi, the highest deity in Daoism) taught us that those who truly understand the Dao do not seek excessive perfection—this is the principle. So what does "holding fullness" mean? It is like a cup filled with water that does not overflow—only then can abundance be maintained for long.

The seventh step is "securing the cauldron and furnace" (referring to stabilizing the foundation of cultivation). After grasping the principle of holding fullness, one must further solidify the basis of practice. "Securing" is like firmly sealing the earthen crucible of alchemy (a metaphor for the body)—the slightest mistake can lead to vastly different outcomes. When the "fire timing" (a metaphor for the rhythm of cultivation) reaches the standard of celestial circulation, one must maintain stillness and inward focus, allowing the true Qi to flow naturally. Throughout the twelve double-hours of the day, one must tend to it carefully until the "medicine" (referring to the internal elixir) matures and can be freely utilized. How does one know when the medicine has matured? It is like the night of a full moon, where clear radiance pervades everywhere.

The eighth step is "gentle nurturing." Once the Golden Elixir takes initial form, it requires even more careful nurturing. This process is like a pregnant woman carrying a child—whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, one must remain vigilant throughout the twelve double-hours, just as an ox guards its gallbladder or a dragon protects its pearl, never letting go even for a moment. Only when "separation from the womb" (the full maturation of the Golden Elixir) occurs can one truly stand firm. The sign of this separation is as natural as a ripe melon falling from its vine.

The ninth step is "regulating the spirit to exit the shell." After separation, the refinement of the spirit's comings and goings must be even more meticulous, like a mother caring for her infant. At first, one must hold the child close at all times, and even when it learns to walk, supervision is still needed—otherwise, it may easily stumble into danger. Only when it becomes capable of independence can it leave its mother's side. Zhongli Quan (one of the Eight Immortals) said:

"The child is young, not yet grown,

Relying wholly on its mother's nurturing grace.

After three years and nine months of human affairs fulfilled,

It roams heaven and earth, no longer bound by kinship."

This is precisely the principle. Though it is said this way, one must not cling to any state of attainment—constant vigilance against danger is necessary. Only when even the "cauldron and furnace" (the physical foundation of cultivation) is completely transcended can one roam freely, unbound and unhindered, merging with the Great Void (the cosmic origin). What does it mean to overturn the cauldron? It is like the collapse of a home and the loss of life—when the void shatters, only a solitary moon shines in the sky.

Shuidiao Getou explains the truth of original nature:

The profoundest Dao cannot be spoken in words,

Its divine efficacy is beyond measure.

Original nature is inherently complete—

Adding to it brings no excess,

Subtracting leaves no lack.

It is not about extensive learning,

But silent realization in deep stillness,

Contemplating carefully in meditative absorption.

The true meaning within

Never strays from the "Central Yellow" (the Dantian).

Perfect and luminous...

This scripture expounds the essential principles for cultivating the Golden Elixir (Jindan) path. It begins by noting that the Great Dao (Da Dao) itself is formless and beyond words, yet sages established names and metaphors to guide practitioners. Unfortunately, many become attached to superficial interpretations, leading to misunderstandings that hinder the integration of the Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism).

Through thirty-five gathas, the text reveals the mysteries of Golden Elixir cultivation, focusing on several key concepts:

1. The Primordial True Suchness (Yuan Shi Zhen Ru) represents our fundamental nature, while the Primordial Qi (Xian Tian Yi Qi) constitutes the root of life. Our innate nature is originally luminous, yet attachment to the physical body obscures this radiance. Complete relinquishment of attachments allows our original light to reappear.

2. Emulating the celestial patterns forms the foundation (substance) of practice, while mastering Yin-Yang transformations constitutes its function. Few truly understand these pivotal methods—using heaven and earth as the basis while generating vitality through Yin-Yang interactions.

3. The primordial Qi in the heart is called the Dragon (yang energy), while the essential Jing (Jing) in the body is termed the Tiger (yin energy). When the mind stabilizes like a dragon returning to deep waters and emotions settle like a tiger retreating to mountain forests, the harmonious union of Yin-Yang leads to immortal attainment.

4. The Supreme Unity's spiritual spring (kidney water essence) is called Lead (Qian), while the Crimson Mansion's fire chamber (heart fire energy) is named Mercury (Gong). To refine the heart's fire, one must first extract the kidney's true water. When body and mind become utterly tranquil, the Golden Elixir medicine spontaneously coalesces.

5. The true metal in the Qian Palace (head) serves as the cauldron (Ding), while the true earth in the Kun Palace (abdomen) functions as the furnace (Lu). The cauldron must be forged from Qian's pure metal (yang), and the furnace wrapped with Kun's virtuous earth. With upright body and mind, the alchemical vessel becomes unshakable.

6. Our pure spiritual nature is the elixir medicine, while the illusory physical body (composed of earth, water, fire, and wind) serves as the alchemical hearth. Using this transient form as the furnace and True Suchness as the ingredient, sustained practice crystallizes the spiritual embryo in meditative absorption.

The text concludes by warning practitioners against chasing illusions—like grasping at shadows or fishing for the moon's reflection. Authentic cultivation requires embodying these core principles to return to the source and attain the supreme state of mysterious tranquility.

This scripture elucidates the core principles of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation through the corresponding concepts of Yin and Yang.

"Being" and "non-being" appear as opposites yet are fundamentally interconnected. When practitioners comprehend the fusion of "Li" (Fire trigram) and "Kan" (Water trigram), they realize "being" is indeed "non-being." Mastering this conceptual unity allows one to refine the inner elixir that shines like a luminous pearl.

Harnessing prenatal Qi (vital energy) to regulate emotions constitutes the "medicine" (alchemical ingredient), while cultivating through mental focus represents the "firing process." Gathering the medicine is simple; the true challenge lies in mastering the firing tempo. When the mind is free of distractions, true fire naturally penetrates the Three Passes (key acupoints: coccyx, Jiaji, and Jade Pillow).

The essence of practice lies in guarding the "Mysterious Feminine" (Dantian), akin to preserving an empty valley. When breath returns to its root (the Dantian), it becomes the key to opening Heaven and Earth's gate. Once the Golden Cauldron (Dantian) stabilizes, the celestial cycles revolve spontaneously.

Maintaining inner stillness constitutes "centeredness," while responding to external phenomena with understanding represents "uprightness." Only with purified heart-mind can one attain this balanced state. When the Hundred Spirits coalesce without dispersion, it's called "numinousness"; when the Ten Thousand Qi endure perpetually, it's called "treasure." A practitioner's Jing, Qi, and Shen are the most precious jewels.

Quelling distracting thoughts is "clarity," while maintaining spotless mental nature is "purity." The Spirit-Water (essential energy) is inherently pure—only when following turbulent currents does it become muddied. Remain unmoved, and wisdom manifests naturally.

Forgetting emotions and severing thoughts is "reduction" (removing impurities), while refining emotions to nurture nature is "augmentation" (accumulating essence). Emotional detachment resembles removing lead (dross), while nature cultivation resembles adding mercury (quintessence). When form and spirit both reach sublimity, neither addition nor subtraction is needed.

Cultivating the mind resembles ritual purification—one must subdue the "mind-monkey" and "thought-horse." When not a speck of dust stains the heart, spirit and Qi naturally unite. The birth of Yang from extreme Yin is "return"; the birth of Yin from extreme Yang is "meeting" (the cyclical interplay). Understanding this principle reveals the "Heavenly Heart" (Dao mind).

The intermingling of Yin-Yang energies constitutes "conjugation"—like the maiden (Li fire) dwelling east and the golden lord (Kan water) dwelling west, requiring the yellow matchmaker (true intention) to mediate their marital union. Continuous true breathing is "gentle nurturing," silently gestating like a fetus. With constant care, one ultimately achieves spiritual rebirth.

The union of Qi and spirit is "reversion"; the return of emotions to original nature is "restoration." To manifest golden nature (original spirit), one must first return the heart-fire (conscious spirit). When these two fuse into one, the Golden Elixir path reaches fulfillment.

Entering the ethereal gate of cultivation is called "gathering," while departing from the path of worldly delusion is called "releasing." The profound mystery between gathering and releasing—since ancient times, the spiritual child (referring to the practitioner's true primordial Shen) possesses immeasurable divine powers.

When releasing, it pervades the entire Dharma Realm (a Buddhist term referring to the cosmos); when gathering, it condenses into a grain-sized Golden Elixir (Jindan) hidden within the body. Neither clinging to "existence" nor fixating on "emptiness" is true "void"; when both inner and outer are luminous, it is called "penetration." Clinging to "existence" ultimately leads to illusion, and clinging to "emptiness" is also incorrect. Only by transcending the duality of existence and emptiness, with both inner and outer void, can one awaken to the source—this is called "spirit," and its boundless unobstructedness is called "fluency."

Seeing through the true nature of this physical body, there is ultimately no distinction between Buddha and immortal. With a mind vast and unimpeded, even if oceans turned to mulberry fields, the heart remains unmoved. Complete return to the origin of the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji) is called "perfection," and penetrating the realm of true emptiness is called "illumination." When the effort reaches fruition, the Golden Elixir naturally manifests; when the practice is complete, the spiritual treasure becomes unshakable. One's intrinsic nature, pure as moonlight, illuminates the original face before birth.

Shattering all illusions is called "awakening," and revealing the eternal true nature alone is called "radiance." Primordial Qi (Yuanqi) returns to its original source, and primordial Shen (Yuanshen) reverts to the state of the Great Beginning. All karmic entanglements are relinquished, leaving only the true suchness of one's nature. Pure and unadulterated is called "completeness," and embodying the Great Void is called "truth." All methods converge into a single principle—different paths lead to the same destination.

A poem for Cheng Jie'an:

The path of Wuwei (non-action) requires working within emptiness—naturally, a bright moon (symbolizing the Golden Elixir) will illuminate the way of cultivation. Practice day and night without seeking results; when primordial Qi is complete and spirit-energy perfected, the Sacred Embryo (a Neidan term for the fruition of practice) will naturally form.

Jie'an has already seen through the vicissitudes of the world, withdrawing his sharpness to cultivate stillness in serenity. The greatest joy lies in cupping water to play with the moon by the emerald pond (a metaphor for refining the Golden Elixir). The pure hermitage originally holds nothing—only the bright moon (Golden Elixir) is nurtured within. When the practice is complete, refining the Three-Five-One (a Neidan term for the unity of Jing, Qi, and Shen), its radiance illuminates all directions.

Confucians exhaustively investigate heavenly principles; Buddhists contemplate Zen mysteries; Daoists refine the Golden Elixir—all methods follow nature. Only this bright moon (Golden Elixir) penetrates everything, opening the crown gate (Baihui point) to perfect the Dharmakāya. The master, originally well-versed in Confucian learning, also inherits the orthodox lineage of immortals. Penetrating true emptiness to achieve great awakening, the Golden Elixir manifests—alone, yet united with heaven and earth.

Another five-line quatrain for Cheng Jie'an:

Without finding the Mysterious Pass (a crucial Dantian point), all cultivation is in vain. Forcing Wuwei leads to stagnation; deliberate effort is futile. Settling the mind harmonizes Water and Fire (Kan and Li); clarifying the heart unites Metal and Wood (lungs and liver). These four elements (Jing, Qi, Shen, and intention) merge into one—all lies in Jie'an's attainment.

This passage elucidates the essential principles of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) practice, using metaphorical language to describe key aspects of cultivation.

The liver and lungs are not literally dragons and tigers, nor are the heart and kidneys identical to Kan and Li (two trigrams from the Bagua). What truly matters is the harmonious integration of one's innate nature and emotional disposition. Like the raven and rabbit working in tandem, practitioners must maintain focused intention, undistracted by external temptations. Preserving mental clarity and stillness—as if practicing in a pristine hermitage—allows the inner elixir (symbolized as an infant) to gestate.

The poem employs the celestial lovers Cowherd and Weaver Girl to symbolize the union of Yin and Yang. When these forces achieve perfect harmony, wondrous transformations occur. "Red flames rise from the ocean depths" (indicating kidney-water ascending) while "white waves crest atop the mountain" (signifying heart-fire descending). In this state of serene joy, one might hear "wooden puppets singing" (representing the spontaneous circulation of Qi).

The alchemical cauldron must be properly positioned. Recognizing the joy of cultivation, one should devote earnest effort. At advanced stages, transitions between emptiness and form, being and non-being, occur instantaneously—ultimately yielding the precious fruit (symbolized as a luminous pearl).

Without true "medicine" (foundational cultivation), refrain from rash action. Seize time to refine the "true lead" (primordial Qi). Practice requires steering like a charioteer, harnessing the "mysterious wind" (breath regulation) to regulate the fire phase. When Yin and Yang energies harmonize and the Three Passes (critical junctures in cultivation) open, one's true nature emerges like clouds illuminating the sky, bathing the pure practice space in radiance.

The profound mystery defies description. To obtain celestial treasure (the Golden Elixir), seek true gold within water (symbolizing the return to primordial purity). At sublime stages, the mind becomes spotless as moonlight piercing the nine heavens.

The numbers one through five signify the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water); the directions (east, west, south, north, center) represent spatial alignment. The key to unifying the Five Phases lies in the "Metal Lord" (true lead). Obtaining this "One" completes all preparations—yet where does this "One" reside? The ultimate truth of the Golden Elixir path is precisely forgetting attachment to this very "One."

The Dao predates heaven and earth—formless and nameless, existing before chaos. The primordial intermingles with undifferentiated simplicity; beyond the mysterious lies nothing more profound. Sincerity ultimately transcends the mundane, while reverence unlocks the arcane. Whether in motion or stillness, one dwells unimpeded—joy and spontaneity arise naturally.

The conclusion synthesizes common ground among Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism: Confucians emphasize sincerity and investigation of principles to illuminate innate nature; Buddhists advocate introspection to stabilize the spirit; Daoists embody the Dao through daily life, manifesting benevolence while concealing utility. Though methods differ, all point to one truth. Regrettably, most cling to superficial forms. Returning to the origin enables true self-realization—union with the Dao.

People are often blinded by their own eyes, unable to perceive the truth. In reality, the essence and operation of the heavenly Dao (the Way) contain profound mysteries—the key lies in abandoning illusions and returning to one's original purity.

Cultivation requires focused simplicity, maintaining single-minded concentration of spirit (Shen), for only then can one truly comprehend subtle principles. When understanding reaches profound depths, the spirit naturally attains tranquility. Through persistent effort, when one's practice matures, one may achieve the state of "Xi Yi" (the Daoist realm transcending form and substance), thereby entering wondrous mystical realms. With steadfast practice, one will realize the broad and straightforward nature of the great Dao.

Maintaining inner balance and harmony is most crucial, for this allows one to grasp the core amidst life's complexities. In danger, one finds stability; in subtlety, one perceives clarity. First, there must be sincere focus—a thorough investigation of truth. Only by exhaustively studying principles can one penetrate one's nature, and the key lies in perfecting sincerity. When sincerity reaches its peak, truth naturally manifests, and the innate radiance of one's nature shines forth.

The truly wise understand how to follow heavenly destiny, probing principles until they penetrate life's essence. What sages value most is upholding the fundamental principle of the "Middle Way." Fully comprehending this root principle enables communion with the divine. When reproaching others, first examine yourself; when forgiving yourself, extend the same forgiveness to others. The path of loyalty and reciprocity (the Confucian moral principle of applying the same standards to oneself and others) must be perfectly balanced, with unwavering commitment to benevolence.

When all Yin energy completely recedes, Yang energy is reborn. Firmly guard the Mysterious Pass (the key focal point in cultivation), never opening it carelessly. In the depths of stillness, observe that faint stirring—therein lies transparent insight into the original face of the heavenly mind. All things in the world embody heavenly principle, yet few fully understand it. From beginning to end, they perfectly manifest the principle of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). By exhausting the spiritual and comprehending transformation, one ultimately attains the state of Wuwei (non-action).

The truth of the Primordial Taiyi (the undifferentiated state of the cosmos) is unfathomably profound—vast yet subtle. Withdraw into silent stillness, where its mystery defies description. Carefully contemplate and investigate its secrets—the wonder actually lies within your own heart. Purge distracting thoughts, withdraw into stillness, and ultimately reach the state of perfect sincerity.

Look at it—it cannot be seen; listen to it—it makes no sound. In hidden subtleties, always maintain vigilance. In solitude, remain completely sincere. Employ divine ingenuity without others noticing, and heavenly intent will naturally become clear. Every thing contains the complete Taiji within itself—the mechanism of creation lies in unifying all things as one. All transformations and changes return to heavenly principle; returning to the source aligns with nature.

Within Wuji (the Limitless) lies the complete Taiji, and when Taiji forms, it returns to Wuji. From this division emerges the two modes of Yin-Yang, giving birth to all things—heaven, earth, and humanity, the Three Powers, all come into being. If I can return to the state of Wuji, I will possess the foundation of a sage.

Buddhism speaks of the Dharmakaya (the true body of Buddha) as originally pure and formless—what appears in form is merely the Nirmanakaya (the manifested body for saving beings). Dharmakaya and Nirmanakaya are fundamentally one, called the Sambhogakaya (the complete body). Even if manifested in countless billions of forms, if they cannot be unified, they are not the complete true body. The three natures are originally one, without separation or gathering.

This scripture expounds the essential principles for Daoist cultivation. Its core teaching advocates relinquishing attachments and returning to one's original nature, attaining unity with the Dao (the Way) through serene non-action (Wuwei).

A cultivator must unify the three minds of past, present, and future into a single state of pure, undefiled awareness in the present moment. Do not cling to memories of the past or fantasies of the future—these are illusions. Avoid empty talk about Chan (Zen) or the Dao; the key lies in purifying the mind, dissolving obstructions, and letting go of all conceptual knowledge and attachments. Just as the moon naturally shines in full clarity once dark clouds disperse, true enlightenment is found in what appears to be an ordinary state.

Cultivation must follow the Middle Way—neither clinging to "existence" nor fixating on "non-existence." Only by transcending both extremes can one attain the true path. Genuine discipline, concentration, and wisdom arise from maintaining stillness within movement and realizing insight within stillness—only then can one merge with the Dao. Seeking enlightenment through meditation or scriptures becomes delusion if one fixates on their forms. Understand that all phenomena arise from the mind; only when the mind is empty and phenomena are tranquil can one perceive true nature.

The essence of cultivation lies in emptying the mind and attaining stillness, penetrating the origin through the Mysterious Feminine (the convergence of Yin and Yang within the body). Embracing simplicity and detachment forms the foundation of the path. When the heart-mind is as clear as the bright moon, wisdom's radiance naturally manifests. Human nature is originally complete—unmoving yet illuminating all things. This innate light can pierce the primordial chaos before the separation of heaven and earth.

A cultivator must nourish the spirit (Shen), abide in serene emptiness, and experience true joy in meditative stillness. Like patching a garment—no matter how much one mends it, nothing compares to being free and unburdened. The scripture employs metaphors such as the "silver toad in the heavens" (the moon) and "dark clouds" to illustrate how attachment to texts and doctrines obscures true knowledge. Ultimately, it reveals that serene non-action is the natural way—silently recognizing the profound mysteries, refining the spirit, and spontaneously merging with the Dao.

The entire text emphasizes the importance of relinquishing attachments and returning to one's innate state. Through the practice of discipline, concentration, and wisdom, one attains the luminous clarity of the enlightened mind.

The Way of Wuwei (non-action) holds infinite wondrous functions, encompassing all directions just as heaven and earth operate. To comprehend the supreme truth, one must recognize the origin of life and maintain inner tranquility to attain realization. True transcendence requires breaking through constraints like passing through the radiant Celestial Gate.

In practice, do not cling to distinctions between "intentional" and "unintentional" - the true mystery lies in realizing the Heart of Heaven (cosmic origin). Only when completely relinquishing views of existence and non-existence will the awakened nature become pure. Like the interaction between the Gen (Mountain) and Dui (Lake) trigrams, which symbolizes reducing desires, authentic cultivation involves continuous reduction until even the notion of "reduction" is abandoned, severing anger and ignorance to enter the sage's realm of Wuwei.

The Primordial Dao (cosmic fundamental principle) is difficult to locate; one must diligently advance as shown in the Qian (Heaven) hexagram of the Yijing. Through day-and-night practice, maintaining singular purity, when the work matures one naturally passes through the Mysterious Pass (key point in cultivation) to manifest the Yang Spirit (advanced form of original spirit). Clinging to knowledge and views becomes an obstacle instead - true awakening requires cleansing mental defilements, whereupon ordinary and sage become equally radiant, wisdom shining like sunlight.

In practice, "extracting lead" (refining yin substance) means severing worldly ties, while "adding mercury" (nourishing yang energy) requires harmonizing innate nature. When lead and mercury (yin-yang energies) completely coalesce, the perfected Golden Elixir (ultimate achievement of Neidan) is accomplished. The Mysterious Pass and the Mysterious Feminine (key bodily apertures) are crucial gateways in cultivation - their opening and closing embody the principles of Qian and Kun (heaven and earth), yet deluded practitioners focus only on nasal breathing - how can this return to life's root?

Abandon fame and profit to embrace purity, sever all illusory causes. When mind becomes like calm sea, the boat of wisdom naturally docks, as the bright moon emerges through clouds. Penetrating the Three Passes (key stages of cultivation) leads to the mysterious true realm, entering the Gate of Xiyi (profound stillness) - this is the natural Way itself. Then each step transcends the material world, each glance reaches the Great Brahma Heaven (highest Daoist celestial realm).

Countless scriptures expound fundamental principles, yet lamentably the lost argue endlessly. Even with flawless debate skills, one ultimately falls into stubborn emptiness (deviation of clinging to void). Empty talk of mysteries misses the point - better to maintain the Middle Way (balanced cultivation attitude). Only by thoroughly penetrating the Mysterious Pass through silent practice can one align with sages' achievements.

Establishing the Elixir Cauldron (metaphor for cultivation foundation) refines the Four Elements (earth, water, fire, wind), while setting the furnace (practice environment) forges the Ninefold Cycled Golden Elixir. When accomplished, it contains the Three Realms (desire, form, and formless realms) - this marks the true man's attainment. The eternal Dao cannot be spoken - what can be spoken is not eternal. Yet comprehended in silence, one never departs from the Dao's root.

I have heard that Lord Laozi (the supreme deity of Daoism) initiated the teachings to guide later seekers of the Dao, thus giving rise to the study of immortal cultivation. But how can the path to immortality be discussed lightly? One must encounter a true master to receive enlightenment, awaken the mind, comprehend the profound mechanisms of Yin-Yang's opening and closing (referring to the cosmic operations), realize the true essence of the fusion of nature and life (the unity of spirit and body), and attain a transcendent state of spontaneous responsiveness—only then is one qualified to speak of the Dao of immortal cultivation.

Since the Eastern Florescence Emperor (patriarch of the Shangqing lineage in Daoism) established the Daoist lineage, and Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin (two of the Eight Immortals) further propagated it, numerous immortals have emerged in succession. All were beings of great wisdom, capable above of assisting rulers in implementing the Great Dao and below of benefiting the common people and relieving suffering. The ethos of the Mysterious Gate (Daoism) flourished increasingly, with seekers of immortality and the Dao appearing in an unbroken line through the ages.

Later, the Zhenren Li Qing'an (Daoist name Yingchanzi) emerged. Deeply inheriting the true transmission of Daoism and receiving secret teachings from immortals, he thoroughly understood the essence of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. Seekers from all directions, hearing of him, flocked to his door for instruction—so many they were beyond counting. He transmitted the profound mysteries of the Golden Elixir (the core methods of Neidan internal alchemy) to his disciples. The insightful dialogues resolving doubts were recorded and compiled into the Qing'an Yulu (Recorded Sayings of Qing'an). In my repeated readings of this scripture, I found every passage and every word to be a pearl—expounding the legacy of Lord Laozi while revealing arcane principles never before articulated by earlier masters. It can truly be called both penetrating and exquisite.

This work and the Zhonghe Ji (Anthology of Central Harmony) complement each other as form and essence. The Daoist Deng Tanran of Jingnan in Hubei had long preserved a handwritten copy and later commissioned artisans to carve printing blocks, ensuring the teachings of Zhenren Qing'an would endure for eternity. Such painstaking dedication fully demonstrates his sincere commitment to propagating the Great Dao. I believe future seekers of immortality who read these words will surely attain sudden transcendent awakening—how could this be considered a minor benefit? With reverence, the later disciple Hunranzi of Xiujiang in Nanchang composed this preface.