《重陽全真集》Vol. 5

These are several ci poems written by Wang Chongyang (Daoist name Chongyangzi) during his spiritual practice on Mount Zhongnan, using poetic form to convey his cultivation insights and missionary experiences.

The first piece, "Spring Exploration," recounts his enlightenment of disciple Ma Yu (Danyangzi). True practice requires understanding karma and seeing through worldly illusions to attain the Dao. He locked his hermitage door to focus on cultivation—when his mind achieved purity, even his master came to offer guidance. Deep practice brings intoxication finer than fine wine; casually plucked spiritual herbs emit extraordinary fragrance, as if celestial cranes were guiding him to Penglai's immortal isles.

The second poem, "Immortal in the Moon," presents self-mocking cultivation realizations. Calling himself "Wang the Third" (his family birth order) and "Wind-afflicted" (the mad Daoist), he finds clarity only after seeing through life and death. He disdains noble silks (the "five-pantaloon" aristocratic attire), preferring coarse hemp's cooling freedom. Carrying a gourd of medicine, scriptures underarm, and bamboo staff like Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin, he roams freely with mist and rosy clouds as companions.

The third work, "Ruan's Return," employs mythological allusions. Ruan refers to Ruan Zhao of Eastern Han legend who encountered immortals on Tiantai Mountain. Here it describes sudden awakening—like Ruan's eyes shining upon meeting fairy maidens. When vision is obscured, true medicine (Daoist methods) is needed; the skilled physician (master) uses golden scrapers to clear the mist, revealing the Three Luminaries' (sun, moon, stars) inherent radiance.

The fourth poem, "Ode to Paper Robes," continues Ruan's symbolism. As Cai Lun invented paper, Daoists wearing paper robes transcend worldly attachments. Unstained by worldly dust (afflictions), these robes glow like jade yet withstand wind and cold. Seeing heaven's secrets, one becomes free as drifting clouds.

The final piece, "Joyful Oriole Migration," exhorts fellow cultivators. The great Dao transcends speech—discard superficiality to seek profound mysteries. In quiet leisure, recover primordial authenticity; grasping the root reveals original nature. Successful practice resembles feasting in scarlet immortal palaces, witnessing myriad sunbeams piercing jade curtains as crystalline pearls (neidan) form within.

Wang Chongyang (founder of the Quanzhen [Complete Perfection] school of Daoism) expounds the core principles of spiritual cultivation and Dao-realization through this series of poems. The first section depicts the practitioner attaining the realm of "Daluo Tian" (the highest celestial sphere in Daoism), where the primordial spirit (Shen) becomes as clear and luminous as lightning, achieving eternal transcendence.

The second poem, "Returning to Morning Joy," contemplates the origin of life: From whence did our spiritual nature come when heaven and earth first separated? The physical body given by parents is not our true self. Practitioners must penetrate this fundamental truth—only through sustained cultivation can one suddenly awaken to behold their original "primordial form" (innate nature). At this moment, multicolored circular light manifests, returning to the auspicious state of primordial source.

The third poem, "Shortened Magnolia Words," declares the physical body's inevitable decay, advising against attachment to burial customs. True practice lies in refining the "Golden Elixir" (Jindan, the fruit of Neidan [internal alchemy]) like luminous pearls, boarding the boat of carefree wandering to reach the other shore.

Subsequent verses employ everyday metaphors to reveal cultivation essentials: Seeing worldly games clearly like dice players, comprehending the Heart Sutra through seven years of rigorous practice to attain liberation. During the "Five-Nine period" (the yang-energy revival after winter solstice), drinking wine to awaken resembles the spring plowing ritual of striking the earthen ox (ancient spring-beginning ceremony) symbolizing renewal. Dao cultivators roam with green mountains and clear waters, breeze and moon, experiencing the carefree unity of "three companions" (Jing [essence], Qi [vital energy], and Shen [spirit] merging as one).

The conclusion emphasizes key techniques: The heart-mind must remain serene to subtly perceive profound mysteries. Excessive "heart-fire" (mental agitation) causes leakage of internal elixirs (the Three Dantian's essence-energy); only by maintaining clear-spirited vitality can "yellow sprouts" (early signs of internal elixir formation) be nurtured. This poetic series masterfully weaves abstruse alchemical principles into vivid life imagery, embodying Quanzhen Daoism's distinctive approach of "dual cultivation of nature and life" (Xingming Shuangxiu).

This scripture primarily elucidates how spiritual cultivators should transcend worldly concerns and pursue their true nature.

The opening passage describes how practitioners, through serene cultivation, can discern life's authentic path. The meticulous preparation of "liangtao" (a chilled delicacy) serves as a metaphor for the refined states of spiritual practice—pure as grasped snow, its finely shredded strands glistening like jade dust.

The second section recounts a cultivator's prolonged coastal practice, where even thinly clad, they feel no chill—a testament to how cultivation naturally attunes body and mind. The author aspires to guide more seekers toward this path, ultimately achieving the "immortal embryo" (the realized state of cultivation).

Seasonal transitions between heat and cold mirror the impermanence of worldly glamour in the third segment. Life resembles sifting sand through waves, where wealth and poverty fluctuate unpredictably, fortune and calamity intertwined. Practitioners must rise above these vicissitudes, maintaining inner cool clarity.

The fourth passage laments life's brevity—spark-quick as flint, a century's span but foam upon water. It admonishes against obsession with ephemeral affairs, urging instead to kindle wisdom's lamp (symbolizing awakened insight) to illuminate one's fundamental heart-mind.

Next comes the exhortation to awaken to "yellow sprout" (a Neidan term for primordial Qi), forsaking mundane splendor. Those who penetrate phenomena' essence behold the radiance of immortal realms.

The closing section highlights the significance of the number three in cultivation: the Three Elders, Three Fields (upper/middle/lower Dantian), Three Treasures (Jing-Qi-Shen), and Three Pure Ones (Daoism's highest deities). Mastery of these principles leads to "samadhi" (meditative absorption) and the "Three Isles" (celestial abodes).

In cultivating the Dao, one must never rely on illusory tricks (referring to the false and insubstantial methods in cultivation terminology). Distance yourself from worldly temptations, maintain a natural and simple life, and be content with poverty and solitude. Wearing coarse cloth and eating humble meals is enough as long as one is warm and fed. Nourish the body with an open and untroubled heart, savor true freedom in leisure, and maintain a clear and transparent state of mind. The hidden accumulation of cultivation will eventually manifest like the waxing moon, revealing spiritual clarity—a state of carefree ease that even a master would admire.

Human life is like foam on water, gathering and scattering unpredictably, born and extinguished with the wind. Fleeting in existence and sudden in disappearance, its comings and goings are too swift for anyone to fathom. Nothing in this world is enduring, and fame and fortune are especially transient. All should awaken early and not indulge in wine and lust. Nourish the primordial Qi (vital energy), gather the Shen (spirit), and seize the essence of the sun, moon, and stars. Regulate the body and mind morning and night, forming the Golden Elixir (a term in Neidan, or internal alchemy), so that the true nature becomes increasingly luminous, radiating light—only then can one attain eternal carefree longevity.

Another verse, dedicated to Brother Liu, skilled in barbering: Your craftsmanship is exquisite, capable of refining appearances and renewing people. Where the razor passes, brows and eyes become picturesque, sideburns neatly arranged, rejuvenating one’s countenance. Your technique flows effortlessly like clouds and water, your heart harmonious and balanced. Such skill needs no further praise—if one can grasp its deeper mystery, it is like honing the sword of wisdom (a metaphor for insight), revealing its sharp edge to carve out perfection.

The path of cultivation is as profound as sifting gold from water, requiring quiet refinement in a pure place. Only the clear breeze and bright moon are true companions. The unbroken continuity of cultivation must not be interrupted—like retrieving true gold, it is worthy of praise. Only by ascending the mountain’s summit can one reveal the realm of a Daoist practitioner.

The pavilions and ponds of Jiang’an are splendid, with inner and outer scenery reflecting each other. Skillful in refining external beauty, one also cultivates inner radiance. How many can understand these dual realms? Following the Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Scripture) to regulate body and mind, when inner and outer are unified, one approaches the sages. Flames blaze in water (an image from Neidan), fiercely tempering true purity.

Indulging in worldly dust is like being trapped in a prison, tightly bound by shackles of gold and silver. Desires can never be filled, and a hundred years pass in the blink of an eye. Harried by worldly demands morning and night, it is better to renounce household ties early and walk with immortals.

Strolling idly through the countryside, I saw a broken coffin plank, inside which lay bleached bones. (This line, through the imagery of a skeleton, warns of the impermanence of life and death.)

This poetic work by Wang Chongyang (founder of the Quanzhen tradition) offers cultivation guidance to his disciple Ma Yu (the Perfected Danyang), using vivid metaphors to reveal Daoist truths.

The slander and gossip swirling through human society are like skeletal remains lying across one's path—sources of endless sorrow. If you've lived in muddled confusion without true practice, now is the time to completely let go. You are that rare white lotus suddenly awakening among millions, rising unstained from worldly muck, blossoming with crystalline clarity beside the moon as your neighbor. Your soul's fragrance ascends directly to the heavens, having already attained spring's eternal season within.

Those chasing external fame grasp at moonbeams in water; scratching an itch through boots only breeds frustration. Attempting to play stone strings or drill wood for fire without proper method is as absurd as digging earth to find heaven. The true field to cultivate is your inner field of crystalline yang (the Dantian), where through the Nine Returns and Seven Reversions (Neidan terminology for Qi circulation) you'll achieve the perfected state of Five Qi converging to the origin. Become those carefree clouds and wild cranes beyond material concerns—your true nature manifesting in emptiness, golden lotuses (symbolizing transcendence) blooming beneath your feet in clear skies.

People cling stubbornly to these false fleshly husks—we must awaken them to their inner truth. Only by recovering original nature through inward contemplation (a cultivation method) can one know their true home and wander freely beyond dust. Like osmanthus trees in the moon palace nourishing spiritual roots with celestial dew, practice requires absorbing heaven-earth essences to ultimately return to jade terraces and lunar dwellings (symbolizing immortal realms).

Most cannot fathom the profound meaning behind establishing the Golden Lotus Society (a cultivation community), just as the Jinling River (metaphor for human meridians) conceals endless mysteries. To manifest life's golden light requires stirring with golden keys (cultivation methods)—amid golden-scented winds, jade leaves on golden branches (representing cultivation fruits) will bloom. Awaken the inner Golden Elder (primordial Qi), and it will crow like the golden rooster heralding dawn.

A final admonition for Elder Liu: Understand the wonder of "Xi-Yi" (from the Daodejing: "Looked at but unseen—called Xi; listened to but unheard—called Yi"), and vexations vanish naturally. Bound by familial affections—wife, children, grandchildren—you remain imprisoned in mountain chains of attachment. Only by seeing through these fetters can you, like a golden cicada shedding its shell, attain true freedom.

This passage depicts the transformative cultivation scene between Quanzhen patriarch Wang Chongyang (Daoist name Chongyangzi) awakening his disciple Ma Yu (Daoist title Danyang Zhenren), using vivid metaphors to expound the essentials of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice.

To guide Ma Yu's enlightenment, Wang Chongyang deliberately confined him in a hermitage for a hundred days, employing the method of "capturing madness and binding foolishness" to help him quiet the mind and realize truth. Like a sharp blade severing ten-thousand-pound iron chains, Ma Yu ultimately attained awakening through his master's rooster-crow-at-dawn-style guidance. Practitioners should become as clear as suspended pearls, contemplating their intrinsic nature within—the true treasure (referring to the Golden Elixir) lies not in external seeking but in the harmonious interaction of one's own Yin-Yang.

The crux of cultivation lies not in superficial refinement ("external redness") but in awakening the primordial true nature ("red heart"). This follows the principle of Five Phase mutual generation: the fire within wood can kindle growth, while the metal within water nourishes refinement. Practitioners need only accompany their own "jade grasses and gem branches" (metaphors for Jing, Qi and Shen) rather than seek distant companions. The true Golden Elixir path completes through "seven returns and nine restorations" (Neidan terminology for celestial cycle circulation), coalescing essence, energy and spirit into precious jewels that ultimately return to the source of pure stillness.

The latter section humorously warns against cultivation obstacles: drunken folly makes one like a watchdog distrusted by family, when one should instead roam freely like "Wang the Third" (Wang Chongyang's self-reference). It urges practitioners to swiftly seek the cool realm of Dao and open the gate of longevity. Concrete practice requires mastering the "Three Authenticities"—authentic skill (methods), authentic practice (application), and authentic nature (mindset). Like the maiden (symbolizing the heart-mind from the Li trigram) riding the dragon and the infant (symbolizing original essence from the Kan trigram) straddling the tiger ("dragon-tiger copulation" representing heart-kidney harmony), one naturally refines the pearl-jade Golden Elixir.

Wang Chongyang (founder of the Quanzhen school of Daoism) depicts in these poems the realm of cultivators transcending worldly dust and practicing Neidan (internal alchemy). Daoist practitioners must invert conventional thinking, condensing the Golden Elixir (the core achievement of Daoist internal cultivation) in a state of carefree wandering. This luminous elixir shines like a polished mirror, gathering within a sacred gourd brimming with numinous vitality.

True spiritual freedom manifests thus: the mouth constantly recites immortal scriptures, the heart harbors virtuous thoughts, and the abdomen maintains purity. Practitioners follow their masters wandering like clouds across the land, cultivating with jade staffs in hand. A simpleton like Brother Guo (likely representing ordinary seekers) who clings to attachments of love and aversion will suffer—others' joys and sorrows become chains that bind him like afflictions.

During cultivation, marvelous visions appear: silver mists fill the sky, sweet dew transforms into pearls, and clear winds lend their aid. When Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) achieve perfect harmony, the spiritual elixir gestates within the Dantian (energy centers), where jade mushrooms and golden trees blossom in the void, with jade blossoms and jasper stamens exuding celestial fragrance, their centers radiating an abiding point of light.

The realized ones wander freely, strolling with spirit staffs, their broad sleeves flowing downward wreathed in colored clouds. Suddenly they glimpse azure-robed immortals (the perfected ones) beckoning from midair, guiding them toward immortal realms deep within white clouds.

Worldly people remain trapped by four poisons: wine disrupts their nature, lust withers their essence, wealth enslaves their vision, and disordered Qi muddles their breath. Only those who see through these four distractions maintain purity—stabilizing primordial Yang (life's foundation) in the lower Dantian, harmonizing water and fire (symbolized by the Azure Dragon and White Tiger), until finally coalescing the Golden Elixir to ascend to the Great Brahma Heaven (Daoism's highest celestial realm).

The final verse warns: those bewitched by wealth, lust, wine, and chaotic Qi will ultimately be summoned by ghostly enforcers. Before the underworld magistrates, such desire-bound souls can only tremble during judgment—a stark contrast to the carefree freedom of true Daoist cultivators.

This passage is a collection of poetry by Wang Chongyang (Daoist name Chongyangzi), patriarch of the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) school. The first poem depicts spiritual cultivation as an arduous refinement process, using metaphors like "sleeping on iron beds" and "drinking molten copper" to represent ascetic practices. Yet it emphasizes true cultivation doesn't lie in external austerities but in relinquishing attachments and maintaining inner purity.

The second poem "Magnolia Flowers Slow" reveals cultivation's essence: neither obsessing over dual cultivation techniques (where "old couple and maiden" symbolize yin-yang practice) nor fixating on Five Phases theory ("wood dragon and metal tiger" representing liver-lung qi, "black-red kan-li" denoting kidney-heart energies). It advises practitioners against bodily torment, advocating instead a carefree mind nurtured in tranquility to comprehend the Dao's mysteries (neibao xuanji - inner treasured mechanisms) naturally.

"River Transmission Edict" counsels Magistrate Dong Defu: recognizing worldly illusions (shaozhi kong - glimpsing emptiness) pales before accumulating virtue. Comparing life to a fleeting arrow, it urges his return to the Dao's path to pursue immortality together.

"Yu the Beauty" recounts an extraordinary encounter: at Gan River, Wang met a mysterious Daoist (xiansheng - master) whose shared river water transformed into immortal wine (xianzhou - celestial brew). This epiphany awakened his mystical understanding, thereafter dressing in coarse hemp robes (baima na'ao) with indigo headscarf - outwardly unkempt yet spiritually transcendent, attaining the realization of "recognizing the dream-body within the dream."

Final verses outline essential techniques: establishing the inner furnace (anlu - stabilizing body-mind) to attain cool clarity, capturing true qi (fengbiao ying - wind-whisked shadows) to brighten the heart-moon. They stress meticulous attention to crucial points (jinguan yumen - golden pass and jade gates denoting vital apertures), conserving essence to ultimately return to origin (fanben shang danxiao - ascend to cinnabar heavens) and achieve supreme liberation.

This passage is a collection of poems by Wang Chongyang (Daoist name Chongyangzi), the founding patriarch of the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) tradition. It primarily describes the states of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice and the transcendent mindset of cultivators.

The first poem depicts the mystical experience of internal alchemy: when the yin and yang energies (chonghe) within the body harmonize and nourish each other, the practitioner enters a state of luminous clarity. This realm is like taking root in the void, with the whole body radiating silvery light like jade, while the true spirit (yuanshen) becomes pure and translucent. By replacing worldly desires (symbolized by turbid wine) with clear-water-like cultivation, one cleanses the five viscera and six bowels (the "towering pavilion" metaphorically represents the throat, symbolizing the entire body), opens the five sensory gates, and nourishes the three Dantian (upper, middle, and lower energy centers). Using minute medicinal doses (symbolizing precise cultivation timing) to crystallize the luminous Golden Elixir, this transcendent state allows one to roam freely with the mountain winds and moonlight.

The second poem, "Immortal by the River," describes daily cultivation: after consistent daily practice, a sudden moment of awakening occurs. The yin and yang energies within (symbolized as the infant girl and vigorous boy, tiger and dragon) intertwine, while the four celestial animals (azure dragon, white tiger, vermilion bird, and black tortoise) merge in the Dantian like twisting jade threads running through the body. When the Golden Elixir is achieved, its radiance naturally bursts forth from the Niwan Palace (crown of the head) - an experience beyond words.

Subsequent poems use the gourd as a metaphor: practitioners are like treasure gourds carried at the waist, containing fine wine (symbolizing alchemical attainment). Walking through streets unrecognized, they actually drink deeply of the true Dao (continuous cultivation) daily. Leaning on their staffs, they wander rivers and lakes in company with the winds and clouds of antiquity.

"Tying Clouds at the Waist" recounts Chongyangzi's practice life on Zhongnan Mountain: as a mountain-dwelling cultivator, he spends his days with clear winds and bright moon, traveling to Penglai (the Daoist paradise), riding light breezes through crimson mists while tying clouds about his waist to ascend the azure heavens.

"Welcoming the Transcendent Guest" emphasizes essential cultivation principles: one must seek true clarity, true stillness, and true heart (the three essentials). Within the body, the variously colored energies (corresponding to the five viscera and Five Phases) gather in the Dantian, pure as crystal, like jade blossoms blooming while jade boys and golden boys (internal deities) celebrate with song and dance. Ending with playful wisdom: revealing cultivation secrets spoils their efficacy - true practitioners work silently, not even indulging sleep during the crucial zi-wu hours (key meditation times).

These poems employ abundant Neidan terminology and imagery to reveal practitioners' transcendent spiritual states and internal cultivation experiences. The language is both mystically profound and vividly lively, embodying the Quanzhen tradition's characteristic "dual cultivation of nature and life."

Wang Chongyang (Daoist name Chongyangzi) here describes his state of mind transcending worldly concerns. Calling himself this "afflicted wind" (a self-deprecating term for madcap Daoists), he declares he has seen through worldly rights and wrongs, no longer clinging to conventional cultivation practices. Precisely because he has relinquished attachments, he neither suffers from calamities nor deliberately pursues anything.

With several realized adepts (referring to accomplished fellow practitioners), he cultivates in purity at the Quanzhen Hall (a Quanzhen Daoist practice space), where even the smoke of cooking fires becomes unnecessary. Along with two or three companions like "Carefree One" (likely referring to disciples such as Ma Yu), he experiences inner coolness and ease, sitting in meditation with unconstrained freedom.

This passage reveals the Quanzhen practitioners' pursuit of spiritual liberation and transcendence beyond mundane life, emphasizing the cultivation state of non-attachment to external things and inner purity.