《上陽子金丹大要》Vol. 2

The Shangyangzi's Essentials of the Golden Elixir explores the essence of the Dao (the Way) and its manifestations across Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism.

In the preface, Chen Zhixu (Shangyangzi) notes that the Dao was originally nameless. From Fuxi drawing the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), Cangjie inventing writing, and the mystical turtle and dragon-horse bearing the Hetu and Luoshu (auspicious diagrams), to King Wen of Zhou expanding the Yijing and Jizi composing the "Nine Categories of the Great Plan" (a framework for governance), these sages all realized the Dao yet never named it. It was only Laozi who reluctantly called it the "Dao."

The Dao existed before heaven and earth took form. It nourishes all things in their growth—whether plants taking root and bearing fruit, or beings born from wombs, eggs, moisture, or transformation—all rely on the Dao's workings. Though invisible and intangible, the Dao produces such wondrous transformations. Since Laozi introduced this concept, people throughout history have come to know the Dao through him, and later generations have taken Laozi as their model. Heaven becomes clear by the Dao, earth becomes tranquil by the Dao, the sun, moon, and stars shine by the Dao, and all things flourish by the Dao. Sages, immortals, and buddhas all attain realization through cultivating the Dao.

What Confucius and the Buddha comprehended was also this very Dao, not something separate. Only later did it divide into the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism: Confucian scholars, failing to grasp the true transmission from Zengzi and Zisi, reduced it to mere daily norms; Buddhist practitioners, unable to illuminate the mind and see their true nature, merely recited scriptures and sat in meditation; and Daoists, if they did not probe the mysteries of the Golden Elixir (the core of Neidan, internal alchemy), only knew to burn incense and perform rituals—all these stray from the true Dao.

The Dao generates all things through Qi (vital energy), and all things depend on Qi to grow. However, this Qi is not the breath passing through the nose and mouth, but rather two fundamental energies, internal and external: the external is called "Black Lead" (a key element in Golden Elixir practice), which Buddhists term the Dharma, Confucians call benevolence and righteousness—yet their essence is the same; the internal is called "Black Mercury" (the work of meditative stabilization), referred to in Daoism as "heel breathing" (zhongxi), in Confucianism as "central harmony," and in Buddhism as the contemplation of Guanyin—all expressions of the natural Dao. The sages of all three teachings must employ this fundamental energy to attain realization.

This passage recounts the legendary story of Laozi (founder of Daoism) composing the Daode Jing and explains its core philosophy. When Laozi journeyed westward to Hangu Pass, the guardian Yin Xi recognized him as a sage and requested he leave behind his teachings. Thus Laozi wrote the 5,000-character Daode Jing at what is now Zongsheng Palace in the Zhongnan Mountains of Shaanxi. Originally divided into two sections, the text was later organized into 81 chapters by the Daoist master Zheng Siyuan, and officially titled Daode Jing during the Tang Dynasty. While countless commentaries exist, the version by Heshanggong is considered most profound, though its authentic manuscript remains elusive.

The text elucidates the essence of Dao (the Way): fundamentally nameless and formless ("nameless is the origin"), any attempt to define it makes its eternal truth harder to grasp. Chapter 38 states that the highest De (Virtue/Power) is wuwei (non-action) — achieving all things by following nature without deliberate effort, whereas lower virtues like benevolence and righteousness belong to the realm of forced action. Those who truly understand Dao and De comprehend the mystery of "acting through non-action" — accomplishing everything while appearing to do nothing.

The author Shangyangzi reflects that such profound wisdom has always been difficult for ordinary people to grasp. At forty, though dwelling in mountain seclusion, he remained engrossed in literature until meeting his master Yuandu Zhenren, who transmitted the lineage teachings of Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin. Like clouds parting to reveal the moon, he suddenly understood the Daode Jing's statement "these two emerge together but differ in name" referred to the xingming shuangxiu (dual cultivation of nature and life). From then on, he felt spiritually connected to Laozi, as if walking, sitting, and resting in the company of sages.

This passage elucidates a crucial insight in spiritual practice. The essential meaning is that true cultivation does not lie in superficial forms, but in inner awakening. It's like standing atop the Three Realms (the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm) looking down upon sentient beings—those who transcend the bonds of life and death are most noble.

The text employs numerous Daoist and Buddhist symbols as metaphors: the sword of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing, the highest Daoist deities), the crown of the Five Sacred Mountains, mercury within cinnabar (a Neidan alchemical term), the Jade Rabbit in the sun (representing yang essence), and the Golden Crow in the moon (representing yin essence). These seemingly opposing phenomena all point to the same ultimate truth. As the Diamond Sutra states: the Dharma Body (the Buddha's true nature), though formless and without characteristics, encompasses the entire void.

A common failing among contemporary scripture readers is reciting words without comprehending their true meaning. It's like medical students mechanically memorizing the mantra "left heart, small intestine, liver, gallbladder, kidneys" yet never practicing pulse diagnosis—no matter how fluently memorized, such knowledge cannot cure illness. The Sixth Patriarch Huineng's commentary on the Diamond Sutra perfectly explains this: though the physical body may be large, if one's mental capacity remains narrow, it cannot be considered truly great; though the Dharma Body is formless, when one's mind expands boundlessly, it becomes as vast as the void.

The key lies in "contemplating the scripture" rather than merely "reading the scripture"—not reciting words with the tongue, but comprehending their true meaning with wisdom. Like two precious pearls (symbolizing truth) hidden in roadside grass: ordinary people pass by hurriedly, while those with clear vision recognize their luminous, perfectly rounded value. The scriptures left by sages were originally meant to guide all people toward sagehood, yet sadly most merely recite them mechanically seeking blessings, without penetrating the profound truth of life and death.

This scripture primarily explains the distinction practitioners must recognize between the physical body (material form) and the dharma body (spiritual essence). The author points out that even if one's physical form were as massive as Mount Sumeru (the legendary sacred mountain of Buddhism), it still wouldn't constitute true greatness. Merely reciting scriptures without comprehending their profound meaning will forever trap one in the cycle of birth and death.

The sages of the Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism) left behind classical teachings to guide later generations, as their doctrines fundamentally share no conflict. Master Shangyangzi (an eminent Daoist adept) praised the Daode Jing's five thousand characters—though often discussing statecraft and military strategy—as ultimately expounding the Great Dao (the Way). This classic can be applied universally: the benevolent perceive its virtue (De), while the wise grasp its wisdom. Master Yingchanzi (another Daoist master) regarded this scripture as encompassing principles of governance, alchemy (Neidan), military tactics, and Chan (Zen) enlightenment.

The text presents three modes of application: employing the Dao of non-action (Wuwei) to assist rulers in achieving golden ages like those of Yao and Shun; using the Dao of action to instruct ministers in benevolent governance; and applying the principle of "non-action yet nothing left undone" to guide cultivators in refining the Golden Elixir (internal alchemy). Historical figures like Emperor Wen of Han, Zhang Liang (Zifang), Zhang Fuhan, and Xu Jingyang each practiced these principles from different perspectives.

In the Daode Jing, the "father" symbolizes the origin of teaching, while the "mother" represents the source of all things. The scripture's core message is: one must first engage in deliberate cultivation before attaining genuine non-action; it establishes virtue (De) as the root before discussing humaneness and righteousness, not to reject these values; it addresses humaneness and righteousness before ritual propriety, not to abolish rites. Passages describing "images within the indistinct" or "essence (Jing) within the obscure" directly reveal the profound mysteries of the Dao.

The text conceals over eighty specialized terms—such as "the multitude's beginning," "divine vessel," "mysterious female (Xuanpin)," and "bellows"—all designed to help later generations apprehend the Dao through these concepts. True understanding leads to cultivation, which in turn yields attainment—specifically, the refinement of the Golden Elixir. Regrettably, later scholars wearing tall hats (Confucians) failed to grasp the subtleties of the "mysterious female" (key to practice), while those in long robes (Buddhists) never found the gateway.

Those who do not cultivate the path of Wuwei (non-action, following nature) and Youwei (active practice), upon encountering genuine practitioners, dismiss them as heretics, and upon hearing their teachings, label them as deviant. Yet worldly people of intelligence and insight willingly associate with the ignorant—either drifting with the tide or competing for fame and profit—living to old age and death without ever knowing the existence of the Dao of immortals. How lamentable!

When the sages of the Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism) first established their doctrines, each had its unique path of cultivation. It is only later generations who failed to grasp their essence. Laozi is a sage, the supreme Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun), who resides in the Three Pure Realms (Sanqing, the highest celestial abode in Daoism), taking as his responsibility the nurturing of heaven and earth, the movement of sun and moon, the governance of cosmic cycles, and the generation of all things. He regards all beings under heaven as one—if even a single person suffers, it is as if he himself suffers. Yet those of middling or inferior capacity indulge in arrogance and ignorance, failing to understand the source of the Dao, and recklessly slander, claiming Laozi is no sage. Such slander only reveals their own delusion. Those who claim allegiance to the Dao of the Most High but have not received the true transmission naturally cannot attain genuine blessings.

Laozi composed the Daode Jing with the original intent of guiding practitioners to attain the state of a True Person (Zhenren), enabling the world to rectify its ways and avert calamities. This is akin to subduing demons, slaying flood dragons, calming tidal waves, and dispelling disasters—such are the deeds of the Dao. Yet those who comprehend will comprehend, and those who remain deluded will remain so. Comprehension arises when conditions ripen; delusion persists due to the lack of virtuous roots planted in past lives. The Five Relationships—ruler and subject, father and child, husband and wife, elder and younger siblings, and friends—are the foundation of the great Dao's moral order, immutable for all ages. As for subduing demons and slaying dragons, these are the natural manifestations of attaining the Dao, achieved when the time is ripe.

Laozi’s Dao is the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir (Jindan, the fundamental method of Neidan/internal alchemy). To practice the Golden Elixir, one must first understand the Three Bonds and Five Constants (ethical principles), then generate wisdom through meditation. Once moral principles are clear, the Dao naturally reveals itself within them—it is not a matter of abandoning these principles to seek another path. This is the realm of "Youwei" (active cultivation), hence the Daode Jing says, "Harmonize the light and merge with the dust" (blend harmoniously with the mundane world). When meditation and wisdom reach perfect clarity, one attains the state of "Wuwei" (non-action), hence the Daode Jing says, "Know the masculine, but keep to the feminine" (understand strength but abide in gentleness). When cultivation reaches the state of Wuwei, the affairs of immortals are complete.

Those who understand this scripture naturally grasp the true Dao within it, hence the Daode Jing states, "The highest virtue is not recognized as virtue" (the most profound Dao is unnoticed in daily life). Those who do not understand will only argue over words, hence the Daode Jing says, "It is precisely because they do not know that they do not know me." Now, in reverent accordance with my master’s instruction, I have elucidated this principle.

This scripture elucidates the profound and omnipresent nature of the Dao. In his preface, Chen Zhixu (Shangyangzi) explains that he composed this work to guide practitioners, enabling those with spiritual aptitude to comprehend the true path of longevity and ascension to immortality.

The "Chapter on the Expressible Dao" employs parallel constructions to progressively unveil the Dao's mysteries: the true Dao transcends verbal expression ("The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao"). It permeates all existence between heaven and earth ("Positioning heaven-earth and nurturing all beings is called Dao"), yet surpasses concrete forms ("Possessing the eye of great discernment yet lacking physical pupils"). While capable of creating all things ("Skillfully seizing the transformations of creation"), it remains elusive ("Beyond the descriptive power of literary men").

The text reveals the Dao's nature through paradoxical unity: appearing humble yet supremely noble, seemingly obscure yet brilliantly luminous; it can be as minute as dust yet encompass the entire cosmos. The author observes that neither Buddhist sutras, the Doctrine of the Mean, nor even the Daode Jing can exhaustively describe the Dao's profundity. Finally, citing Master Zheng's words, the text clarifies: the essence of Dao is Qi (vital energy)—Dao manifests as Qi's function, and the key to realizing Dao lies in mastering this "Qi".

(Note: "Sands of the Ganges" is a Buddhist metaphor denoting immeasurable quantity; "Hongmeng" and "Mingxing" refer to the primordial chaos of cosmic beginnings; "dust-motes" symbolize the Dao's omnipresence through infinitesimal particles).

This passage explores the essence of the Dao and the mystery of naming. It first explains that the Dao has two levels of designation: the public name (such as "ancestor of all things") is what people commonly refer to, called the "speakable Dao"; while the true essence of the Dao (its taboo name) is the origin that gives birth to all things, belonging to the "eternal Dao beyond convention"—vast yet subtle, pure and sublime, existing before heaven and earth, which ordinary people cannot comprehend through conventional means.

Regarding naming, the author illustrates with examples: just as one may use the formal name "Qian" (the yang trigram in the Bagua) but cannot directly call it "male organ"; or how a person's formal name may be used publicly, but their childhood name (like "straw dog") can only be used privately—using it publicly would offend. This demonstrates the distinction between "nameable" and "eternal name beyond naming"—some designations are suitable for daily use, while others pertain to the hidden essence.

Finally, it points out: in its functional aspect (yong), the Dao can be practiced by humans, yet it is no ordinary action; in its essential aspect (ti), though it can be described, it transcends ordinary language. The "nameless" represents the primordial state before heaven and earth separated, while the "named" is the mother that gives birth to all things—the former is silent and latent, the latter manifest and creative. The entire passage reveals the Daoist understanding of the Dao—it exists within daily life yet transcends convention, it can be expressed yet retains its mystery.

This passage elucidates the dialectical relationship between the fundamental concepts of "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu). "Being" refers to the state of things about to take form, while "non-being" represents the primordial source before manifestation. Just as heaven and earth, yin and yang must interact to nurture all things, human spiritual awareness belongs to the realm of "non-being" (the divine nature), while vital activities belong to the realm of "being" (the movement of Qi).

The crux of cultivation lies in mastering two states: "constant non-desire" (chang wu yu) and "constant desire" (chang you yu). In stillness, one observes the "mystery" (miao)—the profound and ineffable origin—achieved through maintaining emptiness and tranquility to comprehend the subtlety of the Dao. In movement, one observes the "apertures" (qiao)—the gateways of vital emergence—through which one recognizes the vastness of the Dao by perceiving transformation. These two methods, though seemingly different, share the same source, both being pathways to the "profound" (xuan), the inscrutable substance of the Dao.

The text particularly emphasizes that while "being" and "non-being" have distinct names, they originate from the same root. This root is "profound beyond profundity" (xuan zhi you xuan), impossible to fully articulate—akin to Buddhism's "inexpressible" realm. The "gateway of all mysteries" (zhong miao zhi men) describes this abstruse source: it is the universal portal through which all things emerge and transform, where every wonder manifests.

(Note: "Shangyangzi" was the sobriquet of Chen Zhixu, a renowned Neidan (internal alchemy) master of the Yuan Dynasty, whose work Jindan Dayao explains Neidan principles. "Yinyun" describes the misty state of primordial Qi; "chongxu zhisheng" characterizes the Dao's empty tranquility; "baoyuan hanling" refers to the vital spirituality imbued with primordial energy.)

My master (Shangyangzi) once said that truth often lies beyond words. He spoke of a primordial existence that predated the formation of heaven and earth. This principle is actually quite clear: the substance of Dao (the Way) exists naturally, while its function manifests as a state of emptiness. This very emptiness is what existed prior to heaven and earth. The Zhouyi Cantongqi states "relinquish attachments and return to emptiness," while the Wuzhen Pian explains "Dao gives birth to the primordial Qi (vital energy) from emptiness." My master particularly emphasized that this primordial Qi emerges precisely from emptiness—this is the state of "acting yet not acting."

What we call naturalness is returning to the authentic state of heaven and earth. Humans are born from the union of their parents' Yin-Yang energies, and in the undifferentiated chaos of the primordial state, they maintain an unadulterated and unbroken nature—this is the realm of "non-action (Wuwei) that accomplishes everything." Dao originally has no name; calling it "Dao" is already an imposition. Once named, it cannot be fixed with a single designation, hence Dao can neither be heard nor seen. Is this Dao matter or spirit? Form or formless? It transcends conventional concepts and cannot be grasped through ordinary understanding.

Throughout history, countless individuals have attained immortality or Buddhahood. Though they left behind innumerable scriptures, none have fully revealed this mystery, precisely because of Dao's nobility and De's (Virtue/Power) sublimity. In truth, human nature is inherently pure—if one awakens in the present moment, there's no need to laboriously search through texts. Yet ordinary people often perceive things upside down: remaining silent when silence is needed, failing to understand when understanding is required. Therefore, the sages, moved by compassion, employed various skillful means, using words and concepts to guide—yet all ultimately point to that primordial source before heaven and earth.

Though the paths differ among Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, their ultimate truth knows no distinction. Mencius' "Way born of accumulated righteousness" is Confucius' "single thread running through all"; what Sakyamuni transmitted by holding up a flower—the wondrous mind of Nirvana—is identical to Bodhidharma's "directly pointing to the human mind, seeing one's nature to become Buddha"; what Laozi called the "mysterious female of being and non-being," the mother of all things, is precisely the mysterious pass of the Golden Elixir (Jindan) in the Great Dao. In remote mountains and hidden valleys, every age has its awakened ones. Once truly penetrated, all becomes clear. Those with wisdom roots, reading these scriptures, can seek truth beyond the words, perceive Chan mysteries within the principles, and comprehend the Great Dao beyond the sentences—like the sudden opening of wisdom eyes, experiencing the unity of heaven and human. What a joyous occasion worthy of celebration!