《上陽子金丹大要》Vol. 14

The disciple continued to inquire: "May I ask what is meant by 'shedding the mortal form' (tuotai) in Golden Elixir (Jindan) cultivation?" Master Shangyangzi (the Daoist name of Chen Zhixu) replied: "This concerns celestial secrets that should not be lightly revealed." The disciple persisted: "Now is precisely the season of ripe opportunity. If not explained, I fear the moment may be lost."

Only then did Shangyangzi explain: "I shall tell you, but keep it confidential. When the primordial lead and mercury (alchemical terms referring to yin and yang energies) fully merge within the golden chamber (referring to the Dantian), they form the golden embryo's divine chamber. After ten months of firing process cultivation (referring to the Neidan practice cycle), it's like a man carrying a pregnancy. When the embryonic form reaches completion, it must be moved to the upper Dantian (the cranial cultivation region) for continued nurturing over one or two years, transforming it into the yang spirit (an advanced form of the original spirit). At this stage, the yang spirit can freely enter and leave the physical body—this is the state called 'shedding the mortal form.'"

The disciple pressed further: "Will the physical body then decay and die?" Shangyangzi responded: "This is difficult to say. Ordinary people always assume achieving immortality means eternal life without death—this is mundane thinking. In truth, the path of immortals and buddhas is not so simplistic." He then enumerated various modes of transcendence: The Yellow Emperor ascended in broad daylight with his physical form; Pengzu chose prolonged earthly residence; Celestial Master Zhang (Zhang Daoling, founder of Daoism) received heavenly appointment to an immortal office; Huang Shigong appeared and disappeared intermittently; Xu Jingyang (Xu Xun) ascended with his entire household; Wang Chongyang (founder of Quanzhen tradition) manifested illness before departure; Bai Yuchan (the Purple Clarity Master) achieved liberation through corpse liberation (leaving behind his physical shell); while Dongfang Shuo served in government to aid the world. These examples demonstrate diverse paths to immortality—one need not rigidly cling to prolonged earthly existence alone. Regarding hierarchical grades, celestial ascent with official appointment ranks highest, prolonged earthly residence comes next, while corpse liberation and manifested illness rank thereafter.

This scripture recounts stories of ancient recluses, using these examples to illustrate the Daoist cultivator's state of mind—detached from fame and wealth, transcending worldly concerns.

The first story tells of He Shang Gong (a renowned Han dynasty hermit) living in riverside seclusion. When Emperor Wen of Han personally visited and demanded obeisance by invoking imperial authority with the phrase "All lands under heaven belong to the emperor," He Shang Gong simply ascended into the air, declaring he "touched neither heaven above, burdened no people in the middle, nor dwelled on earth below"—existing entirely beyond secular jurisdiction. Only then did the emperor awaken to true understanding and humbly seek instruction.

The second narrative describes Song dynasty recluse Su Yunqing, whom Prime Minister Zhang Deyuan recommended for official position. When officials arrived with the imperial edict, Su pretended to accept but secretly departed that night, leaving only a poem expressing his refusal to be tainted by wealth and status. Later generations named his hermitage site "Su Gong Embankment."

The third account mentions Lie Yukou (a Warring States Daoist figure) who dwelled anonymously in Zheng state for over forty years. After studying successively with Huqiuzi and Lao Shangshi, nine years of cultivation finally enabled him to ride the wind.

Finally, the text recounts Fan Li (Spring and Autumn strategist of Yue), who immediately withdrew after helping King Goujian conquer Wu, later refusing the premiership of Qi state and reinventing himself as merchant Tao Zhu Gong. These examples collectively demonstrate how genuine Dao practitioners see through fame and fortune, pursuing higher spiritual realms.

This scripture primarily discusses the concept of the unity of the three teachings (Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism), as well as the relationship between spiritual cultivation and wealth.

Regarding wealth, the scripture states: When Daoist practitioners teach the path to longevity, they often mention the need for financial resources to accomplish certain tasks. However, upon truly attaining the Dao, wealth becomes unnecessary. Money is a product of desire and profit-seeking, which can ultimately harm people; thus, one should not accumulate riches over the long term. Cultivators must understand that personal spiritual practice is far more important than material wealth. Throughout history, many practitioners ultimately dispersed their wealth to live in seclusion and cultivate, eventually attaining immortality—such examples are countless. The realm of immortals is beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

Concerning the unity of the three teachings, a disciple asks: The ancient sages established Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism as three distinct teachings. Why does the master now say they are actually one family? Is there one Dao or three? Shangyangzi replies: There is only one Dao in the world. Confucius said, "My Dao is one that threads through all things"; Laozi said, "The ten thousand things are born from the One"; and the Buddha said, "All dharmas return to the One." These statements all demonstrate that the Dao of the three teachings is the same. Though their expressions differ, their essence is interconnected:

1. Regarding the "heart-mind" (xin): Buddhism speaks of "illuminating the mind to see one's true nature," Confucianism speaks of "rectifying the mind and making the will sincere," and Daoism speaks of "clarifying the mind and purifying the spirit." This "heart-mind" does not refer to the physical organ but to the original mind at the center of heaven and earth—the source of one's nature (xing) and life (ming).

2. Regarding "nature and life" (xingming): The Doctrine of the Mean states, "What Heaven decrees is called nature"; the Song of the Great Dao says, "Spirit (shen) is nature and qi is life"; and Bodhidharma, upon coming east, taught, "Directly pointing to the human mind, see one's nature and become a Buddha." All emphasize understanding nature and life.

3. Regarding yin-yang: Confucius said, "The alternation of yin and yang is called the Dao"; Laozi said, "The ten thousand things carry yin and embrace yang"; and the Sixth Patriarch Huineng said, "Sun and moon oppose each other, yin and yang oppose each other." These show that the Dao of all three teachings is inseparable from yin-yang.

4. Regarding entry points: Confucius spoke of "perfecting nature and preserving it, the gate of Dao and righteousness"; Laozi spoke of "the mystery of mysteries, the gate of all wonders"; and Buddhism speaks of "the supreme, true, non-dual gate." Though the paths differ, the ultimate destination is the same.

Thus, though divided into three teachings, there is only one Dao. To believe there are two Daos would contradict the sages' original intent. What later generations call the three teachings merely represent different entry points to the same truth.

This passage reveals how the essential practices of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism ultimately converge, though most people remain fixated on superficial forms without grasping their shared core principles.

The author critiques three common misconceptions: self-proclaimed Confucians who revere Confucius yet fail to comprehend the fundamental practice of dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu); Buddhist devotees who worship Śākyamuni daily while remaining ignorant of their innate Buddha-nature; and so-called Daoist practitioners who honor Laozi without understanding the true essence of the Golden Elixir (jindan) path. All represent empty labels devoid of genuine realization.

Authentic spiritual cultivation progresses through three corresponding levels: mastering Confucianism's "one unifying principle" leads to sagehood; realizing Buddhism's "supreme vehicle" leads to Buddhahood; and perfecting Daoism's "golden fluid restored elixir" leads to immortal transcendence. These three traditions ultimately describe the same truth—transforming one's yin-yang energies (qi) to achieve spiritual awakening.

Natural metaphors illustrate this transformative process: pine trees eventually produce poria cocos fungus, fish transform into dragons over time, and decaying grass generates fireflies. As the most spiritually endowed beings, humans should naturally achieve self-transformation through cultivation. Preserving one's true nature leads to Buddhahood, nurturing the spirit (shen) leads to immortality, and transcending ordinary existence leads to supreme sainthood—all following the universal laws of dual cultivation and yin-yang transformation, collectively termed the "golden fluid restored elixir."

The text concludes by explaining why slandering spiritual paths brings karmic consequences: immortal beings and Buddhas, having transcended worldly concerns, bear no grudges against detractors. However, slander itself disrupts the cosmic harmony of vital energies (qi), naturally generating repercussions—like stirring muddy water and becoming soiled—rather than representing divine punishment.

The Shangyangzi's Essentials of the Golden Elixir (Shangyangzi Jindan Dayao) explores the relationship between Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, as well as the essence of spiritual cultivation.

Many people today seek to dispel misfortune by making lavish offerings, donating to temples, ordaining monks, copying Buddhist scriptures, building pagodas, venerating relics, and holding various rituals. Yet these superficial acts lack true substance. Some attempt to correct such practices—their intentions may be good, but their words are often too harsh, and they fail to grasp the true meaning of the Dao (the Way). They merely quote ancient wisdom to criticize modern errors, which not only fails to resolve the issue but invites trouble instead.

True immortals and buddhas disdain such formalities. Later, when Buddhists and Daoists encountered critical writings, they mistakenly took them as personal insults—how misguided! Confucian scholars, upon encountering Buddhist or Daoist scriptures, refuse to study them deeply, dismissing anything of value as heresy and slandering them to enhance their own reputations—this is an even greater delusion.

The Han dynasty statesman Zhang Liang (styled Zifang), a man of the highest caliber, followed the immortal Chisongzi in cultivating the Dao, a feat unmatched by later generations. The Tang dynasty's greatest poet, Li Bai, was known as the "Banished Immortal," while the Song dynasty's Su Shi (styled Zizhan) was revered as the "Immortal of the Slope." Yet people scorn their path as heterodox while praising them with the title of "immortal." If one truly comprehends the Dao and becomes a genuine immortal or buddha, who would deny it a noble achievement? Prejudice leads to mutual slander, whereas ancient sages respected one another, seeking only to understand the Dao. Comparing Buddhism and Daoism to the philosophies of Yang Zhu or Mozi is a grave misjudgment.

In truth, many who claim to be Confucianists practice Mohist ways, and vice versa—the same applies to the paths of immortals and buddhas. True adepts pursue only the essence of the Dao, discarding all else. Hence it is said, "Under heaven, there are not two Daos."

A disciple asked: "Among those who became immortals or buddhas throughout history, were there more from wealthy or humble backgrounds?" Shangyangzi replied: "This cannot be generalized. Both the rich and the poor can cultivate—just as one may take a broad road or a narrow path, what matters is how one walks it." Pressed further, Shangyangzi quoted Guangchengzi's words to the Yellow Emperor: "The Dao is boundless, yet people believe it has limits; the Dao is unfathomable, yet people assume they have grasped it. Those who attain the Dao may become sage-kings, while those who lose it see only appearances."

This passage expounds on the core philosophy and transmission lineage of the Golden Elixir (Jindan) cultivation in Daoist practice. The Great Dao (Dao) operates with luminous clarity above and transforms into fertile earth below—all beings emerge from the earth and ultimately return to it. Practitioners must transcend the material realm to enter the boundless and mysterious state, achieving eternal coexistence with heaven and earth. The Yellow Emperor (Huangdi) exemplified this path by ascending on a dragon after mastering these methods.

The Supreme Primordial Sovereign (Wushang Yuanjun, the highest deity in Daoism) once instructed Laozi: "Ingesting the Golden Elixir grants limitless longevity." Laozi cultivated this method to become the progenitor of the Great Dao, and later generations termed this Golden Elixir practice as the "Arts of Huang-Lao." However, the author emphasizes that sages transmit the supreme path of the Golden Elixir—the fundamental method for attaining immortality and Buddhahood—not ordinary techniques. Without oral transmission from an enlightened master, how could anyone comprehend this innately? Seekers need only maintain unwavering determination to find a teacher, regardless of social status.

The text cites historical figures who achieved cultivation success: Laozi served as Archivist of the Zhou court, Pengzu held office as a grand official, Jiang Ziya (Lü Wang) rose to become Grand Preceptor, Yin Xi governed Hangu Pass, Zhang Liang (Marquis of Liu) tutored emperors, and the Four Elders of Mount Shang assisted Emperor Hui of Han. Others like Zhuangzi (Master Zixiu) managed lacquer gardens, while Gengsang Chu retreated to Piling. Figures such as Qin Gao and Ning Fengzi also held high positions before pursuing the Dao. Notable examples include Zhongli Quan abandoning officialdom, Lü Dongbin (Chunyang) relinquishing imperial examinations, and Liu Haichan resigning as Chancellor of Yan to embrace ascetic practice. Patriarch Ma Danyang, born into wealth, dispersed his family fortune at forty-five after meeting Wang Chongyang, then wandered with fellow adepts like Tan Chuduan and Qiu Chuji, often composing verses such as "With mountain companions in pure discourse, / Roaming rootless yet rich in Dao's meaning" to express their commitment.

The Golden Elixir's transmission lineage is clearly documented: Huangfang Gong first attained the Dao, passing it to Great Void Perfected Being (Taixu Zhenren), then to Purple Jade Perfected Being (Ziqiong Zhenren), and finally to the author's master, Yuandu Zi. Other examples include Dongfang Shuo studying under Yellow-Browed Elder, Anqi Sheng learning from Xianmenzi, Lu Xiujing receiving teachings from Sun Youyue, and Tao Hongjing inheriting Wang Zhiyuan's authentic transmission—with Celestial Master Ye (Ye Fashan) among many illustrating this unbroken Daoist lineage. These accounts demonstrate that genuine Golden Elixir cultivation requires master-disciple transmission to grasp its true essence.

This passage recounts historical instances where high-ranking officials humbled themselves to seek guidance from Daoist practitioners. Eminent cultivators like Luo Gongyuan, Chong Fang, Master Xiyi (Chen Tuan), and Perfected Purple Sun (Zhang Boduan) all received reverence from nobility. Examples abound: Han Yu paying respects to Monk Dadian, Governor Li seeking instruction from Chan Master Yaoshan, Fan Zhongyan honoring the Ancient Pagoda Master, Zhang Shangying bowing to Chan Master Xuefeng, and countless similar cases.

The author observes two types of seekers: those genuinely pursuing the Dao who attain true understanding, and those with feigned devotion who ultimately descend into slander. Sincere seekers may achieve spiritual realization regardless of humble origins, while pretentious visitors accumulate negative karma (a Buddhist term referring to harmful consequences of speech) despite their high status. The crucial factor lies in steadfastness of purpose, which bears no relation to social standing.

The text then explores pathways to cultivation: officials may practice through governance, while commoners find alternative routes. Practitioners may conceal their cultivation amid bureaucracy, in marketplaces, or within mountain forests. Those with means practice generosity; those without seek sustenance—what matters is the cultivation itself, not wealth or status.

Finally, Master Shangyang (a renowned Yuan dynasty Daoist) instructs disciples using water as metaphor: water's nature mirrors the Dao. Its clarity originates from the source, just as cultivation requires tracing to the root. He reminds disciples that without understanding water's vastness, how can one comprehend its clarity? So too with Daoist study—one must begin at the foundation.

To comprehend the relationship between water's source and the Dao is akin to clearly seeing its path yet failing to discern its ultimate destination. Where then should one seek it? Let us speak of water's source—that origin suspended between precipitous cliffs, where solitary peaks tower ten thousand ren high, their summits lost beyond sight, and fathomless caves remain impenetrable. The harder one tries to grasp it, the more it flickers elusively ahead; the moment clarity seems attained, it reappears behind. This realm transcends ordinary understanding, where the sacred and the mysterious intermingle, and even piercing gazes dare not look directly. That profound darkness resembles standing atop Mount Sumeru (the Buddhist cosmic mountain at the world's center) gazing upon the boundless sea—this is water's source, called the nirvanic state.

From this source springs forth crystalline water like sweet dew, dripping like pearls, flowing as smoothly as ambergris, as rich as marrow and jade nectar. The initial current passes through turbid waves, requiring two days and nights over three hundred li to settle into clarity—only then does it become truly pure. Within these waters lie numinous sites like the Radiant Pool and Winding River, mystical formations like the Gui Cavern and Geng Whirlpool, their hues silvery and translucent.

I once heard an enlightened master say: Within this pure water lies white gold that transforms into black lead (a Neidan term denoting the material of yin-yang transformation), scattering like snow or mist. This water contains the pure yang qi of primordial creation, warm in winter and cool in summer. Bathing in it dispels summer heat; drinking it quenches thirst. Those who partake know neither hunger nor thirst, require no sleep, and transcend life and death. Remember: this water has pure and turbid aspects—the turbid intoxicates, the pure enlightens.

After flowing five hundred li, the water vanishes abruptly, leaving neither sound nor trace. A month later, it reappears at numinous sites like the Moon Grotto and Zi Convergence amid sheer cliffs ten thousand zhang high, or at the Zi-Wu Valley and Golden Flower Pool—now clearer and purer than before.

This scripture employs water metaphors to illustrate the progressive stages of Daoist cultivation. In the initial phase of practice, the vital Qi (life energy) within the body flows like scattered streams—some permeating slowly like blood, some floating lightly like white silk, some settling clear like jade-green ponds. These dispersed energies gradually converge into brooks, then merge into mighty rivers, at which point the Qi becomes abundant and profound beyond measure.

Just when practitioners believe they've reached the pinnacle, they discover deeper dimensions. Continuing their cultivation, they learn to distinguish Qi currents as clearly as separating the Jing and Wei Rivers, navigating through various states akin to traversing the Five Lakes and Four Seas. When encountering gentle "clear currents," they advance steadily; facing turbulent "great waves," they calm their breath and mind. Only upon reaching the boundless "ocean" state do they awaken to the vastness of true Daoist attainment. Here, one must maintain pure concentration with ice-walking caution to avoid deviation (known as "qi deviation" in practice).

The text references Zhuangzi's "Free and Easy Wandering," where the mythical Kun fish drinks from the sea, illustrating how the ocean (supreme state) becomes the destination of all waters. True adepts reveal: the ocean's greatness lies not merely in containing hundreds of rivers, but in its ability to reverse its flow upward to the Heavenly River (symbolizing the circulation between human energy and cosmic energy). This "upward-flowing water" mystery represents the ultimate realm of cultivation.

The author, self-referencing as Master Shangyang, reflects on his early scholarly pursuits: studying parallel prose, musical temperament, classical texts, and discoursing on mind-nature philosophy, believing he had reached academic perfection. Only later did he realize these achievements remained distant from true Daoist realization. Through this layered water allegory progressing from shallow to profound, the text unveils the gradual, deepening process of Daoist cultivation from surface to essence.

Many people in the world are unaware of the existence of true adepts (zhenren), and some don't even believe in them at all. Yet the path of cultivation leading to immortality and Buddhahood truly exists in this world. My master, Adept Zhao, returned from his cultivation retreat at Mount Taidi and transmitted to me the methods of practicing the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir (jindan), which contains the profound theory of "the Heavenly River flowing backward." Through my master's teachings, I came to understand that the pursuit of the Dao could reach such profound heights.

Consider the natural movement of water: without comprehending the mystery of flowing against the current, one cannot grasp water's ultimate nature. Similarly, if a seeker has never heard of the path to longevity, they cannot claim to have reached the highest level of understanding. The connection between the ocean and the Heavenly River reveals that water follows the principle of reverse flow; through cultivation and realization of the Dao, humans can understand how the physical body may endure indefinitely.

Disciples who heard this expressed agreement: through study and realization of the Dao, one truly comes to understand how the body can exist perpetually. This teaching simultaneously reveals three truths: the movement of water, the fundamental path of learning, and the cultivation method for achieving longevity.

A disciple asked: Since the Great Dao is ultimately one, Laozi's Golden Elixir Dao speaks of the dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu), while Bodhidharma's teaching from the West only mentions "directly pointing to the human mind to see one's nature and become a Buddha." Does this transcend the scope of the Golden Elixir Dao? Master Shangyangzi replied: Bodhidharma's path is the Golden Elixir path. People have different capacities, and the Buddha, out of compassion, expounds the teaching in various ways. Later generations of cultivators—the clever tend to overanalyze, while the dull struggle to comprehend.

The clever often fail to recognize the great matter right beneath their feet—that which illuminates past and present, transcends life and death, and governs one's nature and life. Without understanding this foundation, no matter how far one travels, it is all in vain. The dull, meanwhile, do not realize that within this flesh-and-blood body resides the "true person of no rank" (referring to the original mind or Buddha-nature), capable of undertaking the great work of cultivation. Without this realization, merely reciting scriptures, chanting Buddha's name, observing vegetarian fasts, or sitting in meditation—how could such practices lead to seeing one's nature and attaining Buddhahood? Wouldn't that be foolish indeed?

Another disciple asked: Does seeing one's nature guarantee Buddhahood? Master Shangyangzi quoted Great Master Fu: "Without seeing one's nature, even after eighty thousand kalpas of cultivation, it will all come to nothing in the end." Seeing one's nature is like hearing the Dao; becoming a Buddha is like attaining the Dao. Hearing the Great Dao requires practice—thus those of superior capacity diligently cultivate after hearing the Dao. Seeing one's nature requires refinement—thus Śākyamuni endured years of ascetic practice in the snowy mountains before realizing Buddhahood.

This discussion addresses the fundamental question of how to attain true awakening and Buddhahood. Someone might ask: Can one achieve Buddhahood through "seeing one's true nature" without study or practice?

First, let's clarify two key concepts: "acquired intellectual understanding" (postnatal conceptual knowledge) and "the inherent spiritual nature present in all sentient beings" (the primordial spiritual essence intrinsic to all things). Many mistakenly believe that cleverness and intellectual prowess can lead to awakening, when in fact the opposite is true—the knowledge and concepts formed after birth become obstacles, while true liberation comes from returning to that fundamental nature which connects all existence.

Why is this so? Because acquired cognition is perpetually entangled in judgments of right and wrong, sensory pleasures and desires, constantly bound by the afflictions brought by the six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind). In contrast, this innate spiritual nature remains as steady as one's heels—unshaken and ever-present, capable of manifesting great function even amidst impurity. As the ancients said, "Hell is not the greatest suffering; the true suffering is wearing monastic robes while remaining ignorant of the fundamental matter," referring to the state of being lost in superficial cognition while missing one's true nature.

True Buddha-nature isn't found in wooden or clay statues, but is inherent in every individual. Mistaking acquired knowledge for Buddha-nature is as absurd as claiming someone else's child as your own. However, it's crucial to note that even when recognizing one's original mind as Buddha, concrete practice (such as the cultivation methods exemplified by Changlu's Four Gatherings) is still necessary for realization—mere intellectual understanding isn't enough.

This is why the historical Buddha underwent forty-two years of ascetic practice in the snowy mountains, and why Bodhidharma faced the wall at Shaolin Temple for nine years—both were embodying this fundamental principle: one must both recognize the original mind and engage in diligent practice. It's like the alchemical process: while understanding that true nature is like the Golden Elixir (Jindan), inherently complete, one must still employ concrete methods to refine and manifest it.