《上陽子金丹大要》Vol. 16

This passage presents Daoist master Shangyangzi Chen Zhixu's unique interpretation of the Buddhist concept of "seeing one's nature to become a Buddha." He begins by pointing out that before the primordial Buddha King of Majestic Sound, the path of cultivation had no fixed form—there were no teachers to guide, no doctrines to transmit, not even the Seven Buddhas had yet appeared. Yet later generations lost their original nature, constantly seeking external methods from others without realizing the fundamental truth that cultivation begins with knowing oneself.

The text references Bodhidharma's teaching of "directly pointing to the human mind, seeing one's nature to become a Buddha," while criticizing later practitioners for abandoning what's near at hand to chase distant goals—indulging in wild fancies while neglecting the opportunities for cultivation in daily life. The author particularly emphasizes that even Sakyamuni Buddha attained Buddhahood through practicing the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir (Jindan), with his "sixteen-foot golden body" symbolizing the harmonious union of yin and yang energies in Daoist alchemy (the "two eights" combining to form sixteen ounces of perfected qi).

When disciples inquire about Sakyamuni's declaration "Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the honored one," Shangyangzi explains this as later patriarchs' skillful means of teaching—a gong'an (koan) designed to help those with spiritual capacity awaken to their true nature. The entire passage embodies the Daoist Golden Elixir school's principle of "dual cultivation of nature and life" (xingming shuangxiu), integrating Buddhist insight into nature with Daoist internal alchemy (Neidan) practice. It maintains that genuine enlightenment must be realized through concrete cultivation methods.

This passage discusses how individuals of different capacities (悟性) comprehend Buddhist teachings. Those with sharp faculties immediately grasp the Dharma upon hearing it, requiring no repeated explanations; whereas those with dull faculties find the teachings as tangled as kudzu vines—hopelessly confusing—even mistaking Chan (Zen) dialogues for mystical rhetoric to show off.

True Dharma isn't proven through external miracles or divine manifestations, nor is it validated by the protection of the Eight Classes of Divine Beings (天龙八部). Ordinary discussions of Buddhism often fixate on superficial concerns like life-and-death, misfortune and fortune, or karmic retribution. But authentic Dharma exists solely within the practitioner—it bestows vast wisdom in an instant, transcending ordinary limitations while maintaining sober awareness of one's shortcomings.

This genuine Dharma is something even sages and ordinary folk dare not casually glimpse, let alone display to others. If such Dharma truly exists, even celestial beings (诸天) would find no means to make offerings to it, while demons and heretics could never grasp its edges—why would it need protection from divine guardians?

Someone asks: "Such profound Dharma—does only the Buddha possess it?" The reply: "The Buddha long ago ceased clinging to Dharma; true Dharma actually resides in every person's mind." Another question: "Then where is this Dharma within the human heart?" The answer: "It hangs suspended in the great void (太虚), towering like a ten-thousand-foot cliff—invisible to the eye, inaudible to the ear." Follow-up: "Does it manifest miraculous efficacy?" Response: "It reveals great spiritual powers, raining down nectar of Dharma." These metaphors illustrate that true Dharma is the ultimate truth beyond form—not the miraculous manifestations worldly people seek.

This scripture explores how the fundamental path to enlightenment lies in illuminating the mind and realizing one's true nature, rather than clinging to external forms. It points out that the key to attaining immortality or Buddhahood through the transformations of heaven and earth is mastering the authority over life and death (referring to the comprehension of life's essence). If one can instantly connect with the Dao, they may reach the state described in the I Ching as "tranquil and unmoving, yet responsive to all things"—a realm even ghosts and spirits cannot disturb.

The author illustrates this with the Chan (Zen) parable of "Breaking the Stove Deity," which shows that a clay stove god inherently lacks spiritual power—what people perceive as divine actually stems from the human mind. Someone might ask: If everyone inherently possesses the Dharma-nature, does that mean the practice of the Golden Elixir (Neidan, internal alchemy) is unnecessary? The answer is no, because ordinary people fundamentally fail to understand what "true nature" is, so they still need concrete cultivation to realize it.

The text cites Bodhidharma’s journey from the West to transmit the Dharma: rejecting written words, he pointed directly to the mind, advocating "seeing one’s nature to become a Buddha." Yet this state transcends verbal description, much like Laozi’s "method of observing the wondrous Dao"—both surpass conceptual language. In truth, Bodhidharma’s practice at Shaolin Temple aligns with the principles of the Golden Elixir tradition. The enlightenment stories of Chan masters like Mazu, the Sixth Patriarch, and Layman Pang, along with koans such as "three pounds of flax" or "the cypress tree in the courtyard," all ultimately point to the same truth: the mind itself is Buddha, with no need to seek outside.

The closing imagery—"mountains, rivers, staffs, and temple banners"—reveals that truth is omnipresent. Whether in nature, everyday objects, or even drinking tea and eating rice, any moment can become an opportunity for awakening. This reflects Chan Buddhism’s holistic view that "lush green bamboos are all the Dharma-body," harmonizing seamlessly with Daoism’s principle of "the Dao follows nature."

This passage explains that the key to spiritual cultivation lies in directly pointing to one's original mind and realizing inherent nature, rather than clinging to external forms.

Ancient Chan masters employed seemingly peculiar methods to awaken their disciples—ordinary actions like blowing on cloth fibers, waving fans, beating drums, or striking bamboo, even using analogies involving lions, tigers, cats, dogs, or mice. These seemingly unrelated koans (gong'an) were all skillful means to guide people toward recognizing their true Buddha-nature (original mind and inherent nature). Master Shangyangzi (a key transmitter of the Southern Lineage of Daoist Golden Elixir cultivation) told his disciples: "All ancestral masters throughout history have used various methods and borrowed different phenomena to show people where their true nature resides."

The problem, however, is that many become attached to these external forms—like grasping a fishing net without pulling its main cord, or seeing golden threads but lacking the skill to weave them. Our original nature is actually as clear and evident as the sun emerging after dispersed clouds—visible to all. Yet most people's vision becomes clouded by their own prejudices, staining their innate wisdom. They spend days engaged in empty talk without genuine practice, squandering precious time.

Some contemporary Chan lecturers enjoy gathering crowds for lofty dialogues on elevated platforms, mistaking eloquence and debate skills for true attainment while mechanically reciting koans. When someone raises one finger, they raise two; when others speak of what's before their eyes, they speculate about what's behind—all mere wordplay that misses true nature entirely. How could such clever repartee and intellectual games ever lead to genuine realization of original mind and inherent nature?

(Note: "Koans" [gong'an] refer to the classic dialogues or stories Chan masters used to enlighten students; "seeing nature" [jianxing] means thoroughly realizing one's inherent Buddha-nature; "illuminating the mind to see nature" [mingxin jianxing] constitutes the core aim of Chan practice.)

This is like asking a deaf person for something—you request clams, and they bring you water; tell them to dismount, and they pull the reins tighter; point to something at their feet, and they scour the ground for mustard seeds. Though it may seem similar, the difference is vast. This is the result of a deaf person mishearing and stubbornly guessing.

People today inherently possess spiritual clarity, yet they perceive things as if blindfolded, like those deaf individuals who stubbornly guess and mistake the wrong for the right. How many can avoid such errors? I will now reveal everyone’s original face—this time, don’t remain confused.

Chan Master Yuanwu (a renowned Song Dynasty monk) once said: Before our parents gave birth to us, we were pure, naked, and utterly unhindered; after birth, we remain just as pure, naked, and unhindered. The Buddha spoke with such compassion precisely to show people the ultimate truth. Yet when people hear the phrase "pure and naked," they mistake it for cold indifference or casual cheerfulness, unaware that this is our original face—our true nature.

When it comes to the idea that we remain pure and unhindered even after birth, it’s no surprise that dull-witted people struggle to grasp it. Why? Because ordinary minds are bound by convention. As for the statement that we were equally pure and unhindered before birth, once it’s pointed out, that’s all there is to it. Those with sharp faculties will immediately find the entry point—how could they fail to understand?

I’m not just explaining this to clarify things for you, but also so that monastics in the Chan communities and people everywhere studying this Great Essentials of the Golden Elixir (Jindan Dayao) can ultimately transcend sectarian constraints and grasp the true meaning. It’s like standing between two mirrors—your head and feet, front and back, are all clearly visible. There’s no need to seek others’ help to see for yourself.

Nowadays, how many people dwelling in Chan monasteries have no real understanding of Chan? They gather in groups of two or three hundred, even a thousand, just sitting rigidly. At night, patrols scold those who doze off; by day, rules constrain them—when do they have time to realize their nature? Exhausted from staying up late, how can they recognize the true Buddha? This is one blind man leading a crowd of the blind. Haven’t you heard the criticism from Chan Master Dahui (a Song Dynasty Chan master)? Those shallow, fabricated practitioners, who haven’t even figured things out themselves, spend all day teaching others to collect their minds and sit in stillness...

This passage employs a series of Zen koans and metaphors to critique the phenomenon of practitioners in that era clinging to superficial forms while missing the true essence.

The text references the Sixth Patriarch Huineng, who pointed out that "prolonged sitting meditation binding the body" was pathological rather than genuine Zen practice. Though Shishuang Chanshi had many disciples who sat rigidly like wooden stakes, perceptive observers mocked them as the "wooden stake assembly." When the Tripitaka Master saw monks at Caoxi building huts to practice seated meditation, he awakened them by remarking, "Even the lowest-capacity practitioners in the Western Regions wouldn’t fall into such views."

The dialogue between Mazu Daoyi and Nanyue Huairang is particularly classic: Huairang deliberately ground a brick in front of Mazu’s hut. When Mazu asked why, Huairang countered, "Can sitting in meditation make one a Buddha?"—prompting Mazu’s sudden enlightenment. The exchange between Xuansha Shibei and Xuefeng Yicun used the metaphor of a "furnace and ancient mirror" to expose the limitations of clinging to conceptual labels.

The author lists dozens of named meditation methods like "Eastern Zen and Western Zen," emphasizing that such designations were merely expedient means to help people "see their true nature (recognize original mind)." Yet he criticizes contemporary monks for two errors: first, treating nirvana as the ultimate goal to gain worldly praise while failing to realize that nirvana must be sought "beneath one’s feet while ascending upward"; second, obsessing over monastic titles while remaining ignorant that "nature (original mind) resides within the body," mistaking intellectual understanding for true nature and even misidentifying the "spiritual platform (mind)" as the ultimate reality.

Finally, the example of Liangsu Chanshi suggests that genuine practitioners should directly point to their true nature as he did. The core message dismantles attachment to formal practices, stressing that awakening to one’s original mind is the fundamental purpose.

Master Magu signaled with his gaze to his disciples, enabling them to instantly realize their true nature. This direct pointing to the mind cannot deceive those with clear vision. He told the assembly: "What you know, Master Liangsu fully understands; yet the realm Liangsu has realized remains beyond your comprehension." Ordinary practitioners remain entangled in the six sense faculties (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind), indulging in all sorts of deluded thoughts. Thus Liangsu could "completely know" the fundamental truth, and what he awakened to was genuine Buddha-nature. Most people struggle to recognize this true Buddha, hence the saying "What Liangsu knows, you do not."

Master Shangyangzi (Chen Zhixu, the renowned Yuan dynasty Neidan adept) lamented: "Original nature is so easily revealed, yet people find awakening so difficult! Tell me—aren't your innate nature (xing) and vital life force (ming) originally your own? I've already torn off all pretense to point this out for you, yet you still don't understand what xing and ming truly are. If you don't realize this within your own mind but keep chasing words and phrases, what's the use even if you wear out your tongue? I've repeatedly placed the truth before you, yet not a single person will acknowledge it. Were I to overturn the meditation platform (metaphor for completely shattering attachments), it would only appear as my teaching failure. Now let me show you the living path once more."

Ultimately, this matter concerns nothing but "conditioned methods" (deliberate cultivation techniques). When the ancient divine sage Shang Rong sought to teach Laozi conditioned methods, he first demonstrated the way of softness—suddenly sticking out his tongue. Laozi immediately understood: "The soft tongue endures while the hard teeth fall out first—this reveals the secret of conditioned methods!" Practicing conditioned methods requires grasping the "gate of sweet dew" (nourishing the heart's field) and the "lightning trigger" (swift as a flash of insight). Thus the Buddha said "like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and like lightning"—all describing the characteristics of conditioned methods.

Yet ordinary people hearing of "sweet dew" or "lightning" assume the dew means celestial nectar and lightning means storm clouds; they take dreams for sleep visions, illusions for magic tricks, bubbles for water foam, and shadows for light refraction—all grave misunderstandings. Worldly minds indulge in wild speculation instead of seeking truth within their fundamental nature. How could a sage like the Buddha speak empty words? Every teaching points to reality, urging people to realize their true nature. These teachings appear simple yet convey profound meaning, using great metaphors for subtle truths. Those of superior capacity awaken instantly, while ordinary beings ultimately treat the Dharma as mere "Zen riddles" to play with.

At the dharma lecture, a disciple suddenly experienced an enlightenment like the bottom falling out of a barrel—his mind opened and his true nature was revealed in an instant, filling him with boundless joy. He immediately prostrated himself and said: "Master, through your compassion, you have shattered my delusions and ignorance, pointing directly to the transcendent truth of Buddha-nature beyond conventional understanding, transmitting the wondrous dharma that transcends all forms. Countless lifetimes of doubt and false thinking have completely dissolved at this very moment. It's as if a torch has been lit in darkness, illuminating everything within and without, or like seeing one's reflection in water—utterly clear above and below. This authentic, unfabricated state is truly rare and precious!"

Master Shangyangzi (a renowned Neidan adept of the Yuan Dynasty), recognizing the disciple's profound spiritual roots, responded: "What you've realized is your original nature. But you must understand: your nature isn't some substantial 'thing,' nor is your mind something to be grasped. The true mind is simply mind, original nature is just nature—they neither belong to you nor are confined to any individual. Can you describe the true nature you've comprehended?"

The disciple replied without hesitation: "This humble disciple understands that nature is simply nature, mind is simply mind. The mind doesn't cling to the concept of 'mind,' nor does nature adhere to distinctions of 'nature.' Nature and mind don't depend on each other—nature contains no mental constructs, mind holds no attributes of nature. If the mind grasps at attributes, it's no longer Buddha-mind; only when nature remains untainted by mental activity is it called Buddha-nature. Buddha-nature is my true essence; if my mind seeks to grasp Buddha-mind, it becomes delusion. Clinging to delusion obscures Buddha-nature, while realizing the authentic is true Buddhahood. I beg the Master to further illuminate this truth."

Shangyangzi said: "Your understanding reaches eighty percent. Let me complete it: there are two kinds of mind—the flesh-blood heart (referring to the physical organ) and the empty mind (referring to the primordial Shen). This empty mind is also called the vajra mind or nirvana mind (indicating the unborn, undying true mind), while the flesh-blood heart is the deluded mind of afflictions. Ordinary people create obstacles through conceptual thinking and attachment, thus revolving in the cycle of birth and death. The vajra mind and nirvana mind are essentially the empty mind—this empty mind is the mind of wisdom, the true mind. Those of superior capacity awaken upon hearing this, generating great wisdom and practicing with courageous vigor—this is true Buddhahood. This Buddha-mind is the indestructible mind of accomplishment, the complete and flawless true human heart."

(Supplementary note: This dialogue embodies the core Neidan principle of "dual cultivation of nature and life" (xingming shuangxiu). Through master-discussion questioning, it reveals the distinction between "primordial true nature" and "conditioned deluded mind," emphasizing that only by abandoning attachments can one realize the state of unity with the Dao.)

This passage elucidates the realm of the "mind" and the path to enlightenment in spiritual cultivation. The practitioner's true mind (original mind) transcends all worldly delusions, remaining indestructible even through kalpas of tribulation. Ordinary minds, however, remain entangled in desires and attachments—enchanted by beautiful sights, startled by sounds, forever caught in the endless discrimination between right and wrong.

When facing external temptations of sensory pleasures, genuine practitioners maintain unwavering stillness within. Even thunderclaps shaking the heavens cannot disturb them. They remain composed at life-and-death junctures, let alone being perturbed by mundane elements like water and fire. Such steadfast resolve is sharp and unyielding as a vajra sword, towering straight as a hundred-foot pole—no worldly force can destroy it.

This diligent and courageous mind evokes joy and admiration even from celestial deities. Through such cultivation, one ultimately attains Buddhahood. The so-called "Buddha" is a mind as vast as empty space—firm as a sheer cliff yet adaptable with advancing wisdom. In this emptiness, there is neither progress nor retreat; it transcends all attachments and conceptual thinking. This is the true Dharmakaya (the Buddha's essential nature).

The Dharmakaya abides in emptiness, attaining complete liberation and unimpeded freedom, manifesting boundless spiritual powers throughout the ten directions. True Buddha-nature never departs from this Dharmakaya. Seeking another mind externally only leads to losing one's original nature, sinking into the afflictions brought by the six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind)—like dreaming within a dream, never awakening.

An enlightened mind is like waking from a deep slumber, its wisdom-light free from distortion. Great practitioners take this as their realization, yet continue refining diligently after awakening. The true wisdom-mind is Buddha; true enlightened ones understand Buddha is mind. At the pinnacle of great liberation, it is neither mind nor Buddha; when conditions ripen, mind becomes Buddha. Mind-nature and Buddha-nature are inseparable.

Master Shangyangzi (the author) concludes: Buddha-nature requires self-realization, yet cultivation methods must be transmitted by a master. Just as the Sixth Patriarch Huineng—originally a woodcutter from Xinzhou—awakened to Buddha-nature at fifty upon hearing a guest recite scriptures, then traveled to Huangmei to study under the Fifth Patriarch Hongren. This shows even after awakening, a true teacher's guidance remains essential for complete fulfillment.

This passage recounts the story of Chan Patriarch Huineng's quest for the Dharma, extending into profound insights on spiritual practice. Huineng found his spiritual match with the Fifth Patriarch Hongren at Huangmei, where after eight months of rice-pounding labor, he attained enlightenment upon hearing the verse "The Bodhi is originally without tree." After secretly receiving the robe and bowl transmission from Hongren, Huineng—lacking material resources—gained the external protection of Liu Zhilue and retreated to cultivate among hunters in Sihui County.

The text emphasizes the dual cultivation of nature and life (Xingming Shuangxiu, where "nature" refers to mental refinement and "life" to physical cultivation): using earth (symbolizing true intent) to control lead (symbolizing original essence/Jing), then using lead to control mercury (symbolizing original spirit/Shen), ultimately returning to the golden cauldron (Dantian). Huineng later demonstrated his realization through the famous Chan dialogue "It's not the wind moving nor the flag moving" in Panyu, becoming a great master—a trajectory mirroring Bodhidharma's own journey.

When disciples asked why Huineng alone among hundreds received the transmission, Master Shangyangzi replied: "Just as five thousand departed during Shakyamuni's Vulture Peak assembly, genuine Dharma attainers are exceedingly rare." Modern practitioners fail to understand that receiving the teaching is merely the beginning of countless hardships—what worldly people consider joy may be what cultivators dread, their perspectives on gain and loss being fundamentally inverted.

Zhao Zhenren (Master Zhao Youqin, Shangyangzi's teacher) clarified: Authentic practice encompasses multiple stages—seated meditation absorption (zuochan ruding), embracing the origin to guard the One (baoyuan shouyi, concentrating on the primordial Qi), knowing whiteness yet guarding blackness (zhibai shouhei, harmonizing Yin-Yang), refining form into Qi (lianxing huaqi)—ultimately culminating in the spirit's embryonic emergence (xingshen chutai, Yang-Shen accomplishment). The Jade Emperor's Scripture states that even after sudden awakening to Mahayana (the supreme Dharma), gradual cultivation of the wondrous Dao of emptiness remains necessary—perfectly aligned with the Golden Elixir path (Neidan practice), just as Bodhidharma observed: "I see the land of China radiates Mahayana potential."

This land of China possesses the vital atmosphere (Qi) conducive to attaining the Great Vehicle of Buddhism. Like a treasure-laden ship sailing through three years of cultivation through cold and heat, one may seek the true essence of Mahayana. The First Patriarch Bodhidharma initially attained the true transmission of Buddhism through illuminating the mind and perceiving one's true nature (mingxin jianxing), ultimately achieving the Golden Elixir (Jindan, the highest realm of Daoist Neidan practice) and Buddhahood before returning westward. This embodies the Chan Buddhist teaching of "directly pointing to the human mind, seeing one's nature to become Buddha" (zhizhi renxin, jianxing chengfo). The disciples who followed this cultivation path all awakened to this truth, paying reverent homage before departing, thenceforth devoutly embracing and practicing this teaching.

(Note: This passage demonstrates the integration of Daoist Neidan theory with Chan Buddhist thought, connecting Chan's "illuminating mind and perceiving nature" with Daoism's "Great Way of the Golden Elixir." It reflects the syncretic trend of Three Teachings during the Song-Yuan period. "Shangyangzi" was the sobriquet of Chen Zhixu, a renowned Neidan master of the Yuan dynasty, whose Essentials of the Golden Elixir (Jindan Dayao) stands as a crucial work in Daoist internal alchemy.)