《離峰老人集》

The collection of seven-character regulated verses by Elder Lifeng expresses the transcendent and carefree attitude toward life and spiritual cultivation of a Daoist practitioner.

The first poem depicts the life of a recluse in the mountains: Wildflowers bloom abundantly outside the hermitage west of Emerald Cliff, where butterflies flit about as if in a dream and bees busily gather nectar. A celestial youth carries divine herbs through the clouds, while immortals stroll upon rainbow-hued mists. The poet laments those chasing fame and fortune in the mundane world, unaware that this humble gourd (symbolizing the ascetic life) contains its own vast universe.

The second verse portrays mountain dwelling in autumn and winter: Blue mists shroud the green peaks as fallen leaves dance beneath the eaves. Far from worldly affairs, even dreams become more serene. The Milky Way spans the sky where stars grow sparse. In chilled waters and clear frost, fish cease to feed; barren hills and gaunt trees stand leafless. The Daoist lives in leisurely contentment, undisturbed by disputes beyond his gate.

The third poem expresses longing for unfettered freedom: When will the dust of worldly troubles cease? Better to wander freely through mountains and streams. Endless are the sublime peaks and waters to explore, where exotic blossoms and fruits create tranquil beauty. Wind carries fragrance from medicinal gardens, while moonlight bathes ganoderma fields in violet radiance. Dwelling in these forested springs, how could worldly worries furrow one's brow?

The fourth describes the splendor of Southern Mountain: Gazing afar, it surpasses even Heavenly Peace Mountain (a sacred Daoist peak), its misty contours clearly visible against the horizon. Since ancient times, countless immortals have dwelled in seclusion here, and still adepts pursue longevity upon its slopes. The rise and fall of human affairs have become tales of antiquity, while swirling clouds alternate light and shadow. Only the ancient pines and rugged boulders remain evergreen through seasons unchanged.

The fifth verse elucidates stages of cultivation: The awakened mind transcends life and death's constraints; comprehending divine mysteries (Tianji) enables response to all transformations. Manifesting like moonlight through parting clouds, withdrawing like a pearl within its oyster shell. Inner contemplation reveals the luminous true nature, whose brilliant radiance melts the cauldron of creation (referring to Neidan practice). Forging the Golden Elixir (Jindan) continues unceasing, with crimson light glowing within the ice-gourd (Dantian).

The sixth poem reflects on practice through seasonal changes: Heat yields to cold as nature's constant rhythm, as west winds bring osmanthus fragrance once more. Leaves fall from empty mountains where birds roost; frost descends and waters chill as fish retreat to depths. Unexpectedly, a fellow traveler from beyond the mundane visits, finding the cave-dwelling adept reclining in serenity. His staff of knotweed taps jade-like stones, awakening dream-immortals from the Hua Xu paradise.

The final verse declares the cultivation ethos: Not straining to fathom mysteries, but dwelling gracefully among woods and springs. Hearing celestial harmonies in nature's sounds, embodying Dao and De (Virtue) as one's true lineage. Resting casually by fragrant grasses at noon, listening to woodcutters' evening songs at sunset. Though not yet riding phoenixes to ascension, content to wander as an earthbound transcendent at ease.

People laugh at me for being too mad, but do they truly understand this madness? I've formed alliances with the gulls on the sandy shore, wandered the reedy banks, and followed mountain deer deep into mist-wreathed vines of wisteria. Still fast asleep when the sun climbs three poles high, I casually hum the most carefree tunes of the mortal realm. Returning to my peaceful homeland, why should I care about worldly conflicts erupting beyond?

An occasional verse: Broad sleeves flutter amid azure clouds, once accompanying the immortal Hongya through grotto-heavens. Riding a phoenix-drawn immortal chariot down to earth, I rest beneath jade trees guarded by thousand-year cranes. Purple mists exhale flames around the alchemical cauldron, while the bright moon illuminates auspicious lotuses. Suddenly, the jade pendant at my waist brushes the ground—it’s the golden boy delivering the Jade Emperor’s decree.

The Mist-and-Rain Pavilion towers into the clouds, its twelve railings offering panoramic views. Looking back, the human world seems but a pinch of dust, yet occasionally, celestial flute music drifts by. Distant peaks layer emerald upon emerald, slender willows sway in the breeze. The misty splendor appears within reach, yet no one attains it—yet the path to Penglai’s immortal isle isn’t far at all.

A revelation for the world: Becoming a Buddha or immortal hinges on a single thought—how can one idly waste time in the dust? Hesitation only distances you from the Dao, while worldly toils deepen with the years. Obsession with fame and wealth is like drunkenness, yet people neglect the priceless treasures of Jing, Qi, and Shen. When the Threefold Harmony of the Heart (琴心三叠) stirs the dancing fetal immortal, let this be the cultivator’s guiding motto.

Composed for a lost seeker: Only when six windows are clear can heavenly light be seen; dismantle the fences to find the great Dao. True paths all lead to open roads, yet the lost wander in circles. Every road reaches Chang’an, every place is a vast homeland. Abandon dice and chess—why search elsewhere for strayed sheep?

Answering a question: Someone asked me about the Mysterious Pearl (玄珠, the inner elixir)—it’s a spark of spiritual light shining within a jade vessel. Unquenchable since ancient times, it existed before Heaven and Earth formed. Nurture the true self amid the Six Dusts (色声香味触法), refine the illusory body on the Mountain of Seven Treasures. Grasp this truth, and you’ll ride clouds effortlessly.

Another verse: Awakened, one brushes off the dust of fame to wander unfettered. Idly befriending waterbirds by the stream, napping in grassy woods. Mundane affairs never cease; the deluded never see reality. They observe only fleeting life and death, unaware of the eternal spring within the gourd (inner alchemy).

For Master Lang, a hermit’s worldly verse: Ten years apart—time flies, yet the Dao-heart remains. Concealing radiance, nurturing obscurity... [the rest of the line continues the theme of quiet cultivation away from worldly noise].

Selected Passage from The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng:

A reclusive cultivator of truth (zhenshi) engages with the world as circumstances demand, yet remains as detached from mundane affairs as the ancient sage Zichan. Roaming freely among mountains and rivers like Zhuangzi (of the Lacquer Garden), he attained the Dao after a hundred years, ascending beyond the clouds with his entire dwelling, leaving behind an enduring legacy of purity.

In Advice to Commandant Zhang, he cautions against clinging to worldly glamour, advocating instead for serene detachment to nurture one’s innate nature (tianzhen). All that meets the eye is but illusion within illusion; only through awakening does one realize the true self beyond the physical form. It is like planting an invisible tree within a gourd or sensing spring’s promise in a cavern before the first bud stirs. Such truths elude ordinary minds, for only celestial radiance renews itself day by day.

Secluded Dwelling paints a portrait of hermetic life: a clear stream flows beyond the gate, green mountains lean against the rear, and idle days pass in tranquil repose. Books are read for diversion, never for fame or gain. A thousand bamboo stalks grow tall; two or three thatched huts stand humble. Clouds become companions, watched as they gather and disperse at dawn and dusk.

In For the Young Immortal Zhang, a child points laughing at the broad sleeves of a robe, calling them celestial garments. Cranes cry among cloudbanks; phoenixes harmonize in the moonlit palaces. This young adept, it is said, has already received his share of elixirs in the Purple Court (immortal realm), his name inscribed among the ranks of the transcendent.

For the Abbot of Jade Stream Hermitage describes a Daoist with clouds beneath his feet, poised to wander beyond the world’s confines. Shaking off the dust of mortal life, he hangs the moon atop his staff. Peaks unfold like paintings, refreshing heart and spirit—here he resolves to grow old, casting aside worldly honors.

For the Abbot of Stone Snail Hermitage, Yang reveals this seemingly destitute master as one who has attained the Dao, regarding wealth and rank as nothing. Content amid clouds and streams, he delights in poverty and the Way. His mind mirrors clarity; great wisdom wears folly’s guise. Serene as a luminous pearl in the boundless azure sky.

To Official Zhang, Who Wishes to Renounce the World urges resolute action: "A true man must act decisively, cultivating truth without delay. Awakening demands stillness—extinguish delusions, see through the red dust. Refine the sacred embryo (shengtai) through the alchemy of the provisional (jiahe). Transcend the workings of Yin-Yang to reveal the primal nature (lingtai)."

To Abbot Li declares: When the heart roams free, one’s essence (qi) settles into harmony, unmoved by worldly storms. The moon (jade wheel) becomes a metaphor... ---

(Note: The parenthetical terms are included per the glossary, with pinyin provided only on first occurrence. The translation preserves the original’s poetic density while adapting syntax for natural English flow.)

The poems in Collected Works of Elder Lifeng employ vivid metaphors to expound cultivation principles. The first poem states that even the sharpest sword requires constant honing—just as spiritual practice must sever afflictions and obstacles—until one attains the realm where golden cassia trees sway (symbolizing cultivation achievements) and radiant light permeates all.

The poem for Liu Erguan of Songzhou explains that fame and wealth are mere externalities; upon awakening, one realizes they're but fleeting dreams. The true treasures are the bright moon visible to all (symbolizing innate nature) and the dragon's pearl hidden in the ocean depths (representing the concealed Buddha-nature), encouraging perseverance in cultivation with benevolent heart.

To Han Huishou, the verses discuss karmic causality governing individual destinies—like Heaven's vast net that seems loose yet lets nothing escape. The sun and moon's cycles, the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang, all follow natural laws, urging one to see through worldly illusions.

For Liu Gu, the poem emphasizes complete transcendence from mundane dust, with mind purified like a sword's frigid gleam. When reaching the realm of Purple Mansion Perfected Beings (Daoist term for realized adepts), the Returned Elixir (Neidan terminology for the perfected Golden Elixir) illuminates the Great Void, surpassing earthly gold.

The verses for Shihu Wanhu declare that reclusion after accomplishment brings ultimate freedom, perceiving red dust as dark dreams. No elixir can eternally preserve youth—why shut doors when dwelling in Penglai's immortal realm (symbolizing pure states)? Suddenly the Golden Elixir crystallizes, its radiance illuminating the human world.

To Jiagu Dutong, the poem teaches accepting gain and loss naturally, understanding wealth as karmic fruits from past lives, while urging cultivation of virtuous connections. It questions when the cycle of grievance and retribution will end, proposing joint cultivation to attain immortality instead.

For Vice Envoy Zhang, the verses warn against worldly glamour: celestial landscapes remain elusive because minds are dust-covered. The Divine Furnace at Cinnabar Terrace (alchemical workplace) lies obscured; lunar palace's sacred fungi buried by weeds—better spend three thousand days (approximately eight years, denoting prolonged practice) refining the Elixir within the gourd (symbolizing Neidan).

The final admonition for practitioners advises first relinquishing preconceptions, speaking sparingly among crowds, and restraining the six roots (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, mind) from chasing external objects. These poems universally employ life's imagery as cultivation metaphors, urging detachment from fame and wealth while advancing spiritual practice.

The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng contain several poems vividly depicting stages of Daoist cultivation. The first poem speaks of clarifying the mind's origin and opening the eye of wisdom to perceive the "Xi-Yi" (referring to the formless state of Dao). Through establishing deep foundations, one attains longevity and ultimately enters the supreme state of Wuwei (non-action) that accomplishes all things without striving.

The second poem uses the metaphor of ancient immortals dwelling in nests and caves to illustrate how cultivators should maintain the simplicity of wild deer, transcending distinctions of good and evil to reach a state where life and death become one and all worldly ties dissolve. "Breaking measuring tools" refers to abandoning calculating mindsets, while "returning to Hongmeng" signifies reverting to the primordial chaos of cosmic beginnings.

The third poem advises Zhai Haoran to withdraw after achieving merit and cultivate in mountain retreats. The "Chaos Furnace" and "Primordial Cauldron" are Neidan (internal alchemy) terms denoting the body's inner cultivation spaces. "Refining the great medicine" and "smelting golden lead" metaphorically describe the Neidan process. "Facing the origin" indicates attaining immortality, while the "ever-bright Hua Yang sky" depicts the eternal radiance of celestial realms.

The fourth poem warns that human life is as fleeting as a candle in wind or foam on water, urging early renunciation of desires to seek the "Xi-Yi" (Dao's essence) in mysterious states. The "vast ocean of perfect enlightenment" represents boundless awakening, and the "Land of Great Peace" symbolizes the cultivator's inner serenity.

The fifth poem describes the cultivation atmosphere when meeting Wen Dihan Mingdao. "Infant and Maiden" represent Yin-Yang energies, while the "Purple Mansion" signifies the upper Dantian (energy center). "Tiger and dragon converging in the Li Palace" depicts internal energy circulation. "Penglai," the mythical island, embodies immortal attainment.

The sixth poem invites Mr. Geshilie to cultivate together. The "Three Mountain Path" denotes the immortal-seeking journey, while "October spring" describes the warm Yang energy during practice. It concludes by advising him to abandon worldly toil for shared cultivation.

The seventh poem again reveals Zhai Haoran's post-awakening state. The cultivator becomes free as a crane escaping captivity or an untethered boat, discovering profound mysteries in stillness while seeing through worldly splendor like falling blossoms. The final "bending like an inchworm, surging like a whale" metaphor illustrates the cultivator's adaptable, unobstructed state.

The last poem describes meeting an accomplished adept whose spirit shines like autumn water. "White clouds" symbolize transcendence, while "jade peaches" allude to immortal fruits. The "Jade Emperor's incense-table attendant" suggests celestial rank, and "Golden Grain Tathagata" reflects Daoist-Buddhist syncretism.

The Collected Poems of Elder Lifeng employ exquisite imagery to express the spiritual attainments of Daoist practitioners and their admonitions to the world.

The first poem depicts an accomplished cultivator riding azure luan birds and cranes through the three immortal isles, refining the elixir of immortality in his alchemical cauldron, having severed all worldly attachments of the six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind). This master has attained divine arts, and his virtue (De) naturally attracts like-minded companions.

The second poem, dedicated to Physician Wang, states: Though you're already a white-haired transcendent beyond worldly concerns, you still come here to discuss the Way of longevity. I suggest you plant the celestial trees of the Moon Palace and refine the priceless Golden Elixir (Jindan) within your gourd-shaped furnace. Once you achieve cosmic perfection, why cling to this chaff-like mortal frame? You shall surely reach Penglai, the Isle of Immortals, dwelling among divine companions.

The third poem, written for the Astronomical Bureau Judge, describes enlightenment amid worldly chaos bringing freedom like drifting tumbleweed. Releasing cranes into azure clouds with unburdened heart, storing pearls in the Red Waters (legendary Daoist stream) with abundant Daoist methods. The three immortal isles appear within the alchemical gourd; cave flowers bloom eternally through four seasons. Where azure luan and white cranes soar, the golden splendor of Liaoyang's immortal realm shines anew.

The fourth poem admonishes young disciple Yan: I pity you fearless youths, vigorous yet imprudent. Temporary indulgence in sensual pleasures demands redoubled cultivation effort. Only iron-willed resolve maintains original intent—achievement grows difficult with advancing age. Maintain vigilant awareness, and hidden sages will assist you.

The fifth poem instructs Daoist Li: Purity and emptiness (Xu) strengthen Daoist resolve; solitary practice perfects wisdom. Golden halls overflow with transient treasures, yet a single cinnabar pellet prolongs life. Worldlings chase illusory dreams, unaware of transcendent truths. Understand this, and ascension awaits.

The sixth poem counsels the world: Empty fame and floating profits vanish like smoke, yet bind hearts until released. Daily striving forgets life's root—no riches enter the coffin. Though treasure mountains loom, one turns empty-handed; struggling through boundless bitter seas. Life hangs by a puppet's thread, unaware existence is but theater.

The seventh poem laments Lianchang Palace: Once glorious, now returned to dust; no immortals remain, only crows. Songshan's peaks still pierce the horizon; the Luo River flows endlessly away. Rainbow garments' music survives in mountain birdsongs; Zhengde Tower stands empty amid wildflowers. Millennial splendor cannot linger—only Daoist hermits dwell here now.

The eighth poem advises Daoist Shi: Petty fame and gain plague all ages, their gains and losses unsettling hearts. Human life resembles Zhuangzi's butterfly dream—

The poems from The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng reveal the life philosophy and cultivation states of Daoist practitioners.

The first poem states: Human life is fleeting as a white steed's shadow, yet ordinary people exhaust themselves chasing empty fame and fleeting wealth. The riches of copper mountains and golden valleys will eventually vanish—far better to release attachments like a cultivator, living in serene simplicity by the water and beneath the trees.

The second poem describes the experience of cultivation: Sitting in quiet meditation within a bamboo hut, listening to the dripping water-clock, observing the movement of stars. When worldly troubles dissolve, the Yin and Yang energies (dragon and tiger) within the body naturally unite. At this moment, refining the Golden Elixir (a single grain of purple-gold) can stir the spirits and deities.

To Abbot Guo writes: Life passes as swiftly as falling leaves. Past fifty years of age, one gazes at the green mountains beyond the mundane world with futile sighs. The poet urges his friend not to forsake his covenant with nature (the sandpiper’s pledge) and to return to reclusion in time.

Advice to the Daoist Official Qu speaks of cultivation’s foundation: The Primordial Qi (the cosmic origin in Daoism) transforms and generates all things. Cultivation lies in comprehending the workings of heaven between movement and stillness—no need for forced pursuit. Recognizing the realm of true emptiness (the Dharma King signifies supreme truth) is the key.

Advice to Official Kang compares governance with cultivation: Serving as an official cannot match the path of immortality. One must cultivate with a tranquil heart, refining essence (red lead) within the body’s inner crucible (jade furnace and golden cauldron), ultimately ascending to the celestial realm (Great Luo Heaven).

To Overseer Zhang counsels a friend: Though burdened by worldly achievements, do not forget the original intent of cultivation. After fulfilling one’s duties, one may still return to the path of practice.

The final two poems emphasize: The Great Dao is wordless—follow it naturally. Within the body lies its own cosmos (the heavens in a gourd, the three isles in the cave). There is no need to force things, just as one need not imitate Nüwa smelting stones to mend the sky. The life of cultivation is simple (a ladle of gruel), yet it allows one to walk in companionship with the Dao.

Interpretation of "Collected Works of Elder Lifeng":

The sun and moon drift upon the river, following the dark crane as it soars into the distance. Amidst the mist and clouds, a frosty blue emerges, while starlike white hairs appear at the temples. Within the Dantian (energy center), new sprouts of vitality slowly form. After completing seven full cycles of cultivation, one may glimpse golden radiance within the Palace of Nine Yangs.

For Master Zhao:

The mountain stream and golden peaks are perfect for seclusion—here I’ve built a thatched hut to dwell awhile. Step by step, the path of Dao is trodden with steady feet, while worldly affairs fade further away. A few dust-covered scriptures rest on the shelf; before the door, ancient cypresses stand veiled in mist. Lately, my mind has settled like Mount Tai, and when celestial light flashes, a luminous Qi condenses into a precious pearl.

For Magistrate Le:

What are external honors and disgraces? Clinging to either disrupts the harmony of Qi. Looking back, time grows ever shorter—who could ever have enough gold and jade? Instead of seeking the sun and moon in the gourd’s paradise (Neidan practice), why let conflict arise in the heart? Better to awaken early to the wondrous dharma of No-Birth—how could transcendent radiance beyond calamity ever be destroyed?

Another Verse:

The human body is like creation’s furnace, refining emptiness with the true fire of the Five Phases. From the ocean’s depths (perineum), crimson flames surge upward; within worldly chaos, the Supreme Void appears. The physical form is but a temporary illusion—only the unborn dharma-nature is true Suchness. The spirit-child carves through Kunlun’s jade—where could such a priceless treasure ever be bought?

To Overseer Zhang:

White hairs swiftly crown the head; youthful looks vanish unseen. If destined for transcendence, rise beyond—why force what the boundless world denies? Life flickers like a candle in the wind, fleeting as foam upon the water. Fame and merit are but empty dreams—why should the wise toil in vain?

A Poem of Instruction:

Who recognizes the carefree immortal in this world? Hungry, he eats; tired, he sleeps. A humble thatched hut, just enough to shelter the knees—half a page of empty fame isn’t worth a coin. The bright moon hangs perfectly in the sky; the clear breeze lingers as my companion. No common flowers grow before my hall—only celestial jade-green bamboos touch the heavens.

For Clerk Wang of Songzhou:

Listen closely, noble one—the word "Dao" itself belongs to worldly dust. The realm of utmost emptiness and stillness cannot be forced open; its profound mystery defies speech. In stillness, the light of heavenly vision arises; within the Mysterious Pass, creation’s fire blooms as golden lotuses. Traverse the cosmos without hindrance—a single divine pearl is complete everywhere.

For Magistrate Hao of Ninghai:

Let me tell you, great men of the world—everyone possesses a night-shining pearl (innate spiritual nature). Once, you were lost in worldly pursuits,

The poetry collection of Elder Lifeng conveys the fundamental principle that practitioners must relinquish worldly desires and return to original simplicity.

The first poem compares the human mind to a dust-covered mirror requiring constant polishing to regain its clarity. The spiritual spring atop Mount Kunlun (a sacred Daoist mountain) symbolizes primordial Qi (vital energy); using it to nourish one's heart-mind allows the flower of wisdom to remain eternally vibrant. The Great Harmony Perfected Being admonishes Controller Sun: "Do not let vanity obscure your true nature—cultivate innate purity in tranquility." Human life is fleeting, worldly fame and gain illusory; only accumulating De (virtue) through good deeds brings one closer to the Daoist path. Transcending emotional attachments naturally aligns one with the Dao. Upon awakening from the dreamlike realm of Huaxu (the immortal paradise), the Yang-spirit (the perfected yang body attained through cultivation) may roam freely through everlasting springtime.

The second poem reflects on insights gained while wandering Mount Jiaozi. Life's circumstances flow like water—moving when appropriate, resting when needed. Observe how painted mountains and birdsong in harmony all manifest the natural state of the Dao. When practitioners attain the Seven Returns and Nine Restorations (advanced stages of Neidan/internal alchemy), every earthly place becomes an immortal realm.

The third poem cautions Adept Yuan: "Empty fame floats like clouds, while worldly people chase illusions like flies swarming blood." Clinging to worldly ties erodes one's true nature—remember every person possesses a night-shining pearl (one's primordial essence) worthy of reverence.

The fourth poem admonishes against kitchen waste: "Those preparing meals should cherish blessings—each grain of rice costs a thousand drops of sweat." Without practicing frugality, one may face karmic retribution as draft animals in future lives. Since Daoist practitioners' sustenance comes from ten-direction alms, they should maintain constant gratitude.

The final three poems share personal cultivation insights. Forty years of rootless wandering like drifting weeds have revealed the truth of samsara. Spring breezes and autumn moons all manifest the Dao—when sitting quietly, one perceives willow branches brushing sleeves; when walking, one no longer clings to lotus blossoms (symbolizing transcendence) beneath feet. Living as an unfettered Daoist, reclining by small windows to nourish innate purity. After awakening to the Dao in dreams, even dreams cease—transcending the physical body reveals the Dharmakaya (the eternal true self attained through cultivation). The cold moon shines brightly through millennia, while youth vanishes in an instant. Rather grasp the path of longevity to surpass temporal constraints, dwelling eternally in springtime radiance.

The azure bird at heaven's edge, the misty path's fleeting footprints—all teach the same truth: abiding in accordance with circumstances is the Dao, a mind free from attachments brings unbound freedom.

The first poem discusses the method of cultivating Neidan (internal alchemy). "Mystic Frost" (referring to the elixir) is obtained like pounding herbs from the Jade Rabbit of the Moon Palace, while "True Fire" (the body's Yang Qi) is harnessed like driving the Golden Crow of the sun. By gathering these essences into the Dantian (mysterious center), one can attain longevity and merge their innate true nature with the Dao.

The second poem, dedicated to Sun Boying, depicts the life of a recluse. The noble sage long ago wearied of the capital's bustle, yearning only for days spent amidst mountain rainbows. Bamboo staff and straw sandals are constant companions; medicine furnace and scripture scrolls compose his entire existence. Hungry, he eats acorns and wild yams; thirsty, he drinks pine-flower stone tea. Untroubled by worldly affairs, he seeks only freedom of body and mind.

The third poem explains that cultivation must follow nature's flow. Within the transformations of all things lies the hidden path to true immortality—no need to rigidly study texts, but rather learn the Buddha's flower-smiling enlightenment. When the heart is still, external matters won't disturb; when the Shen (spirit) is peaceful, favorable opportunities arise naturally. This realm embodies the wondrous essence of Quanzhen (Complete Perfection)—why deliberately seek immortal mountain abodes?

The fourth poem points out that spiritual refinement occurs within community ("forest" here meaning Daoist temples). One must break old habits, withdraw from fame and fortune, and emulate the sages' mindset. Like building mountains from accumulated earth or treasuring every moment, such cultivation eventually forms an indestructible elixir body—naturally leading to encounters with kindred spirits among rosy clouds.

The fifth poem presents a view on life and death. How long can beauty last? In a blink, it becomes desolate graves and bleached bones. A thousand clever schemes in life, yet all turns to nothing after death. Deluded, joys and sorrows seem real; awakened, life and death are like bubbles. Only the innate spiritual light remains undimmed—this truth is left for later generations to contemplate.

The poem for Official Zheng urges him to see through officialdom's illusions: Pitiable how your white-haired head still toils among documents. Worldly gains melt like snow in hot water; brush strokes cut sharper than scorpion tails. Though silken robes and fine feasts please your household, karmic debts must ultimately be paid alone. May these medicinal words bring cooling clarity to your heart.

For Assistant Treasurer Zhang, the verse advises retreat: Long overdue your departure from red dust to wander free with clouds and streams. Severing worldly ties surpasses officialdom's prison. Within the gourd (symbolizing Neidan) lies immortality's remedy—who among mortals escapes death's grasp? When your cultivation succeeds, a seat awaits at the Jasper Pool's immortal banquet.

The message to Magistrate Wang encourages transcendence: Withdraw from fields of right and wrong to become carefree. Lean on your staff along cloud-trails, straw sandals untouched by worldly dust. The bright moon overhead becomes your companion; idle moments find friendship in clear breezes. Who can match such joy? Nurture your essence with pines and cranes as company.

Here are several poems written by Daoist practitioners, expressing their insights while living in seclusion among mountains and forests, pursuing the Great Dao (Da Dao).

The first, addressed to Master Ji of Mount Song: Gazing southeast at layered emerald peaks, the master quietly cultivates his nature amidst these verdant hills. Having seen through worldly splendor, his earthly ties are severed; through subtle practice, he has opened the eye of wisdom. All worldly books may be set aside, and before his eyes, no fixed rules can constrain him. Yet greater diligence is needed to complete the final steps of cultivation.

For Daoist Dong of Western Mountains: Leaving household life requires the support of monastic forests—most perilous is solitary withdrawal following selfish whims. See how floating clouds still detest unrighteous deeds; why not, like flowing water, seek kindred spirits? As jade requires masterful carving, only by sifting sand can true gold be found. I hear Penglai's immortal isle abounds with wise teachers—never squander precious time.

Elder Liang's admonition to practitioners: Cultivating the Dao needs no forced austerity, for the Great Dao is naturally complete. Maintain true purity and it functions effortlessly; uncontrived, it achieves perfection. Within the Five Radiance Palace (the human body), numinous herbs will grow; on Seven Treasures Mountain, auspicious lotuses bloom. Pluck but one branch of immortal affinity to join the immortals at Jade Pond.

Revelation for Plum Immortal: An immortal's demeanor belongs to forest springs—only by seeing through worldly ties can one seek the Dao. Sweep away all mental disturbances to cultivate profound inner stillness. When celestial light appears, deluding clouds disperse; with the Dharma-eye opened, wisdom shines like the moon. Then roll back the Silver River's waters to nourish purple-gold lotuses (the Golden Elixir) in your cave.

Admonition for Magistrate Zhang of Songzhou: Since you vow to follow Quanzhen's path, take bamboo staff and leave the dusty world behind. Polish the mind-mirror till it shines naturally; refine cinnabar to subdue ghosts and spirits. Wash all stains from your heart, with one phrase awakening dreamers. Look back—those bustling with clever schemes are ensnared by their own cunning.

Poem inscribed at Stone Mill Hermitage: Mist-wreathed emerald peaks fill the eyes—here, the Daoist forgets all cunning schemes. Before him, all is purity; no idle gossip reaches his ears. Distant ridges lie like jadeite across clouded horizons... [text fragmentary]

The poetry collection of Elder Li Feng contains profound Daoist cultivation wisdom. The first poem dedicated to Zhao Jixian of Shituo states: Life is as illusory as bubbles on water—don't let worldly troubles stain your heart. In leisure, peruse the scriptures (Jing); when inspired, roam the green mountains. Don't mock my simple life (a single gourd of drink), for this transcendent attitude earns posterity's reverence. When asked about cultivation methods, the truth is: after eating your fill, releasing all distracting thoughts is practice itself.

The poem for Administrator Zhang warns: Don't squander limited life—a hundred years vanish in an instant. People obsess over insufficient wealth yet fail to notice white hairs creeping at their temples. None escape the great boundary of life and death; even with children and grandchildren filling your view, they cannot help. Better to seek hermitage beneath the moon (symbolized by "misty vines") while still in good health.

To Association Leader Yang comes this teaching: Don't boast of growing golden lotuses in fire (metaphor for unnatural cultivation), nor claim to possess cavern heavens at home. True monastic practice requires severing desires—only by cutting off distractions can one enter the mysterious realm. Grinding bricks for mirrors or brushing stones into sheep (symbolizing futile efforts) are provisional methods. Only when spiritual powers become unobstructed can ordinary places turn transcendent.

The autumn poem for Daoist Wan Yan describes: At dawn, the White Emperor (autumn deity) sends down frost as heaven and earth turn austere. Leaves won't linger on treetops; wild geese hurry south. Mundane wanderers fret over graying hair, border soldiers suffer iron armor's weight—only the Daoist cultivator remains carefree, sipping sandalwood porridge behind a lightly closed gate.

Reflecting at Taiqing Palace: Awake and free, leaning on bamboo staff to seek abodes of truth. Red blossoms and purple pistils scatter in wind; green bamboo renews daily after rain. Sacred mountains naturally emanate auspicious Qi; behold the crimson sun's eternal circuit. The immortal elder has forgotten human affairs—rolling over upon hearing morning bells.

Instructing Daoist Zhao: Turn attention inward through inner observation (Neiguan), don't be deluded by externals. Close the six roots (senses) to sever worldly ties; refine the sevenfold reverted elixir (Qihuan Dan) to coalesce Dao Qi. When jade dew (inner elixir metaphor) condenses like pearls and golden radiance (cultivation phenomena) encircles like the moon, you'll attain the perfected state within crystalline towers (Dantian visions), riding red phoenixes and black turtles (Yin-Yang symbols) through celestial cycles.

Finally, Sister Zhang's allegory states: Like simmering spring snow in a cauldron (elixir metaphor), each droplet must become a treasure. Myriad silver rays interweave; thousandfold auspicious hues flicker—like an infant harvesting spirit mushrooms (symbolizing pure Yang attainment). These verses all emphasize returning to simplicity and the essential art of internal Golden Elixir (Jindan) refinement.

These poems by Elder Lifeng overflow with the wisdom of Daoist cultivation and transcendent vision. The first depicts an adept nurturing the heart in stillness, experiencing bodily ease and mental serenity. He speaks of seeking the golden truth of Daoist teachings within the alchemical furnace, like mining precious jade from Jing Mountain, urging readers to cherish fleeting time.

The second poem admonishes that every person inherently possesses a luminous pearl (symbolizing primordial nature), merely obscured by worldly desires. Sweeping away these distractions renders the mind pure as undyed silk, transparent like an ice vessel. This state resembles the sacred spring of Kunlun Mountain, nourishing eternal jade blossoms (representing the path of longevity).

Opening with Buddhist allusion, the third verse reveals that true spiritual nature was never lacking—only human delusions create attachments. The Dao cannot be fully expressed in words; only genuine adepts understand the natural way as simple as "eating when hungry, drinking when thirsty."

The fourth employs thunder's resonance as metaphor for the Dao's profundity, illustrating how the cycle of life and death resembles temporary lodging. It critiques breath-counting and consuming mist as superficial practices, asserting true immortality requires obtaining the pearl beneath the black dragon's chin (symbolizing essential Daoist mastery).

The final verses express the author's transcendent lifestyle—wearing hemp robes and cloth caps as a carefree wanderer between heaven and earth, liberated from the Three Realms and Six Dusts. Cultivating eternal life in mountain grottoes, he ascends Kunlun's peak to gaze back at the Northern Dipper (symbolizing the enlightened perspective). The conclusion emphasizes how steadfast devotion to the Dao naturally distances one from worldly concerns, embracing purity and emptiness as life's true essence.

The poems from The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng reveal the Daoist practitioner's transcendence of worldly concerns and pursuit of true self-realization.

The first poem describes the process of cultivating the inner elixir (Neidan). Just as lead and mercury are refined in the crucible to produce the golden elixir (Jindan), through the practice of profound techniques (with "mysterious frost" symbolizing the essence of inner alchemy), one attains perfection and ascends to the immortal realm, dwelling eternally in the abode of transcendents. This is a teaching poem addressed to He Huishou of Zhongjing, likely a fellow practitioner or disciple.

The second poem depicts the serene life of reclusion in the mountains. Amid the cold emerald peaks of Mount Song, dwelling by quiet streams, the practitioner grows increasingly distant from worldly people. The Daoist mind becomes ever more refined and pure, as if witnessing phoenixes and cranes gathering in the alchemical courtyard (Danting) and rosy clouds dancing around the jeweled halls. Those entangled in mundane affairs, once departed, can never return to this realm of purity.

The third poem follows the rhyme of the Thunder God. Strolling freely among forests and springs, four decades pass unnoticed. Like the moon needing no finger to point it out, or fish long forgetting the music of pipes, time flows effortlessly, and the heart grows indifferent. Though not yet withdrawn to immortal mountains, one learns to respond to circumstances with spontaneity.

The following five-character quatrain cuts straight to the core of cultivation: seeing through worldly illusions, transcending the Three Realms (desire, form, and formlessness), and shedding all attachments. Though the Dao is profound and mysterious, clarity and non-action (Wuwei) align with nature. With the eye of wisdom (the "Samadhi eye" of meditative insight), one penetrates the truth behind appearances.

Neither form nor formlessness, neither emptiness nor phenomena, should be clung to. In the vastness of the primordial void (Taixu), maintain a spark of spiritual awareness. To attain a body of unimpeded freedom, one must repay the karmic debts of rebirth. Kindle the lamp of innate nature to illuminate the realm of illusion.

Secluded in a thatched hut at the city's edge, none recognize it as an immortal's abode. Remote and seldom visited, the purified mind better savors the true flavor of the Dao. Everywhere manifests the Way; all things reveal its truth. Without forced seeking, forgetting words and practicing non-action brings genuine peace.

Falling leaves in the autumn breeze—such ordinary scenes conceal profound mysteries. The transcendent sage stands apart from worldly folk, viewing fame and wealth as dust through eyes of purity. Liberation from life and death is the cultivator's true task: the heart should be bright as the moon, the body free as wandering clouds.

Innate nature is pure as snow, untainted by worldly dust. Unlock the seamless lock (symbolizing endless cycles) to attain true freedom. The physical form has its resting place, but the true nature has its origin. Look inward to discover the real master.

Abandon all cleverness, and true knowledge arises naturally. The body cannot hide from the mirror; integrity is tested before the blade. Worldly passions and the taste of the Dao cannot coexist—one must choose. True wisdom appears dull, like an awl kept in its sheath. When the hare vanishes, the hound rests in peace.

Finally, the poet compares the journey to sailing the Bohai Sea: amid a thousand waves of snow, using a mountain as bait—who can hook the divine turtle (a metaphor for the great Dao)? With concise language, these poems express the transcendent, return-to-simplicity realm of the Daoist cultivator.

Life is not truly born, nor is death truly dying. In the endless cycle of rebirth, few ever grasp this truth.

The human body is composed of the four great elements (a Buddhist concept referring to the fundamental components of the material world) of earth, water, fire, and wind. Though seemingly miraculous, it ultimately decays into the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). All phenomena in this world undergo endless transformations, churning and flowing through the river of time.

Worldly understanding is always limited, while the Dao (the highest truth in Daoism) is boundless. If one can see through the illusion of life, the mind becomes as pure and transcendent as a lotus emerging from water.

To become truly free and unfettered, one must seek a realm beyond material attachments. When meeting fellow practitioners, words become unnecessary—a single glance can convey the intimacy of shared understanding of the Dao.

In places untouched by the dust of worldly affairs, one can nurture a heart of leisure and ease. Tell your like-minded companions: life is ultimately an empty illusion.

When will the pursuit of fame and fortune ever end? How long before wealth and glory cease? Seeing through life's illusory nature is like recognizing the fleeting bubbles on water's surface.

I wished to fish with fragrant bait, but the divine turtle (a legendary creature) would not take the hook. Turning my lone boat around, I return alone beneath the cold moon over autumn rivers.

The Dao fundamentally defies description—what matters is the practitioner's unwavering resolve. It's like parting clouds stretching ten thousand miles to reveal the bright moon.

Through cultivation, black mercury (referring to bodily essence and blood) refines into white snow (pure spirit), and red lead (the fire of the heart) condenses into yellow sprouts (the Golden Elixir). Beneath the lamp, I carefully measure these alchemical ingredients—guard well your spiritual cinnabar (the refined essence of Jing, Qi, and Shen).

(These are two six-character quatrains from the first scroll of The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng)

The collection of seven-character quatrains in Section 8 of Volume II of The Works of Elder Lifeng reveals the transcendent state and cultivation insights of Daoist practitioners.

"Chanced Realization" depicts a cultivator who, after years of quiet practice amidst clouds and streams, finally comprehends the truth of immortal transcendence. The "two elements" in the poem refer to the dual energies of Yin and Yang, while "sixteen taels" symbolizes perfection—the cultivator rides a crimson phoenix (representing pure Yang Qi) to ascend to the celestial realm.

"Refining the Heart" describes a practitioner whose mind has become as clear and still as cold ashes. Though dwelling in the mundane world, they remain untouched by its chaos, regarding heaven and earth as their cultivation ground—everywhere they go becomes a Penglai paradise.

"To Master Yila" praises the master for achieving extraordinary states through inner alchemy (Neidan) practice. Through serene cultivation, they attain a flawless body, harmonizing Qi to become a sovereign of the Dharma.

"On Worldly People" reflects on humanity's endless pursuit of fame and wealth, suggesting that realizing the finitude of life naturally dissolves trivial worries as insignificant as flies' heads.

"The Teaching of Daoist Wang" imparts the essential method: eating when hungry, sleeping when tired (symbolizing following nature). The mind becomes as clear as a mirror, one's innate nature complete and perfect.

"To Deputy Yilada of Deshun Prefecture" states that only by relinquishing worldly achievements can one truly awaken, and only by forgetting mundane attachments can one illuminate the mind and perceive true nature. The wind of wisdom (insight) sweeps through all things, revealing the radiant truth of ultimate emptiness.

"To the Gatekeeper" advises using less scheming in the pursuit of fame and wealth—once finding the dwelling place of the heart (cultivation), there's no need to deliberately seek remote mountains.

"To Master Jiang of Taiyi Temple" commends the master for using wisdom to break the shackles of worldly desires, roaming like an immortal astride a whale (symbolizing transcendence), his spirit wandering the eternal realm of light.

"To Master Lang" portrays the master cultivating amidst misty streams and rosy clouds, nurturing the flower of longevity (symbolizing inner elixir), capable of guiding immortals and harmonizing the Qi of heaven and earth.

The following poems continue depicting the serenity of mountain cultivation: auspicious Qi rises, golden flowers bloom, and the Jade Void Palace (celestial realm) selects immortal talents; amidst faint mists and gentle hills, body and mind find ease; Daoist Wu of Suizhou rejects worldly temptations, returning to the depths of white clouds. Finally, the verses urge Chief Liu to see through the bondage of wealth and rank, cherishing the limited time of life.

The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng contains enlightenment experiences from multiple practitioners, using natural imagery and everyday analogies to describe the path of cultivation.

The abbess of the Minzhou Zhai Nunnery said: Time passes as swiftly as melting ice and snow. All phenomena manifest the true meaning of the Dharma (the "Western Message"). When one no longer clings to subjective distinctions (forgetting both mind and intent), the wondrous function naturally reveals itself—there's no need to laboriously ponder within realms of purity.

A practitioner from Heliu Town recorded: Don't forcibly pursue food and clothing; simply follow circumstances to pass the days. This saves both heart and effort, leaving no room for afflictions to arise.

Li, the abbess of Xihua County, used landscape metaphors: The spiritual spring atop the mountain and the auspicious lotus beneath the sea symbolize the harmonization of Yin-Yang (the state of Ji Ji), where the inner elixir (Neidan) naturally coalesces, akin to meeting immortals in a crystal palace. However, Hu, the assembly leader, warned: Clinging to cycles of rebirth is like planting lotuses in fire—they can never truly bloom.

Abbess Zhang and Daoist Jia described their cultivation life: Free from attachment to illusions, content in simplicity. Reading scriptures in leisure, watching sunset clouds in weariness. Knowing contentment brings constant joy, with a mind as clear and vast as the Great Awakened Immortal.

Female practitioners like Lü Gu of Chenzhou shared: A cultivator's heart should be pure as ice, requiring no external seeking. When all sounds fade into silence, the mind becomes like the autumn moon (the state of Tai Ding). Through the harmonization of Yin-Yang (Chou Tian), one refines the pure Yang spirit, ultimately reaching the carefree realm of birthlessness.

Brother Wanyan and Sun Gu emphasized: The true Dao isn't distant—the luminous original mind itself is divinity. When scattered thoughts are swept away, the divine light in one's chest shines like crimson clouds illuminating pearls.

Finally, a dedication to Lord Pucha of Xizhou: After achieving merit and retiring from worldly affairs, one may refine the divine elixir with the freedom of drifting clouds and wild cranes. The bright moon and white clouds all reveal wondrous function; the passing breeze itself becomes a sacred space—illustrating that cultivation values naturalness, unbound by rigid forms.

The poems in The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng vividly depict the transcendent state of Daoist practitioners through rich imagery. The first poem, addressed to Daoist Zhang practicing in Chenzhou, describes how cultivators can dispel the six desires (of eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind), attaining freedom from defilement—like planting a rootless tree in fire that miraculously blooms with eternal spiritual flowers. This metaphor subtly reveals the profound mystery of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice.

Sister Xu's poetic verse compares worldly fame to fleeting sparks struck from stone, and riches to illusory water bubbles, emphasizing that only by relinquishing these can one transcend the entanglements of right/wrong and self/other. In the poem for Immortal Liu San, spring clouds over Suiyang and the dragon-spring sword serve as reminders to cherish the priceless Dao-mind, keeping its luminous purity untainted by worldly dust.

The verse for Song, abbot of Hutou, portrays the poet as solitary tumbleweed adrift between heaven and earth, finding greater peace in quiet meditation within a thatched hermitage to nurture his carefree nature. The admonition to Official Guo of Changping reveals how the four elements (earth, water, fire, wind) inherently lack substantial nature, while half a scroll's worth of bureaucratic honors proves as futile as fishing for the moon's reflection—a century's labor in vain.

For Wang Miaojian of Heliu Town, the poem stresses guarding the heart's serenity, shattering doubts to realize Wuwei (non-action), where the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) nature within one's chest endures eternally. The two poems for assembly leaders in Linying County contrast spring's fading splendor (symbolizing life's impermanence) with the wisdom of following nature's rhythms—eating when hungry, sleeping when weary—thereby discovering the hidden celestial grotto within the "pot" (referring to the microcosmic orbit in Neidan).

The poem to the Assistant Magistrate uses angling for giant ao-turtles as metaphor for Dao-seeking, ultimately reeling in the line to return westward (to the sacred). For County Deputy Wugulun, immortal living proves simple: just cleanse worries and forget passions. The instruction to Sister Wanyan depicts ascetic practice with pine-framed windows and stone pillows—outwardly withered as dead wood yet secretly vibrant with vitality.

The final three pieces include Assembly Leader Zhang of Meng Village urging escape from worldly snares to reclaim one's Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) essence, purifying the heart's chamber (inner cultivation) to nurture the valley-spirit (essential Qi). Though the complete text is missing, the title of the poem for Daoist Administrator Yu suggests counsel for temple abbots. Together, these works embody the Quanzhen Daoist spirit during the Jin-Yuan period—transcending worldly attachments to nourish one's true nature within.

Plain Language Interpretation of The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng:

The first poem depicts a hermit's mountain retreat: distant peaks shrouded in emerald mist, jade-green cliffs embracing forest springs. This scenery seems to have chiseled open primordial chaos, stealing a corner of the gourd's celestial realm (alluding to the Daoist legend of a miniature universe within a gourd).

The second poem observes that while the Three Realms (Desire, Form, and Formlessness) have boundaries, they still feel constricted; the four directions everywhere reveal perfection. Yellow blossoms and emerald bamboo—all natural phenomena resonate with me. Clouds remain clouds, mountains remain mountains (expressing the unity of self and nature).

The third poem, dedicated to angler Cheng Anzhu: Though holding a fishing rod for forty years, you cast your hook only when winds arise. Yet the great whale refuses to bite, leaving you to drift alone in an empty boat—a metaphor for releasing attachment in spiritual practice.

The fourth poem advises cultivation: People chant "Amitabha" without realizing they themselves are Amitabha (indicating universal Buddha-nature). Recognizing one's original formless true mind (the innate Buddha-nature in Buddhist terms) eliminates futile external seeking.

The fifth poem reveals the crux of practice: No need to compare mountain heights or ocean depths in vain outward searching. The path to immortality lies before you—the difference between sage and mortal rests in a single thought.

The sixth poem urges Xue Huishou to transcend worldly dust: Dwelling amid scenic mountains and streams, yet entangled in fame and profit, forgetting the way home. This body never belonged to the mundane world—better to recline and watch clouds beyond the heavens.

The seventh poem emphasizes focused practice: Practitioners shouldn't delay—the mind-mirror (metaphor for original nature) requires steadfast polishing. When defilements vanish, innate radiance appears; no distant quest needed to behold Amitabha (awakening) now.

The eighth poem shares Noble Auntie's realization: Though traversing the world's edge, the answer came effortlessly. Releasing a lifetime of worldly ties, suddenly a true person (referring to original spirit or nature) appears guiding your chariot.

The ninth poem advocates transcending form: Remain unbound within the world of shapes—how many through history see beyond attachments? Shed this innate flesh-bag (mother-born sack), let the true self orbit like the sun.

The tenth poem describes liberation: Freed from worldly snares, body and mind at ease; beyond mortal cages, original nature manifests leisure. Staff in hand, entering cloud-wreathed depths, startling white mists across the peaks.

The eleventh poem explains cultivation methods: Since studying the Dao, penetrate its mysteries—authentic transmission brings natural success. A single luminous spark (primordial spirit) clear as water, when refined into elixir (neidan), crimson light fills the cauldron.

The twelfth poem advises releasing attachments: Don't discuss the Dao while drowning in suffering's sea; don't debate Zen beneath mountains of obligation. Cast off both burdens—no need to dig earth to see heaven (symbolizing mind-realization).

The thirteenth poem expresses following conditions: A few acres beyond city walls, simple meals suffice this remaining life. No hopes of immortal cranes—for now, move harmoniously with worldly circumstances.

The poems from the Collection of Elder Lifeng convey these messages in plain language:

To the leader Cao Hui, the poem says: The true Dao is not found in words but within the square inch of the heart—there is no need to seek it far away. Every person’s mind holds a bright mirror, only do not let worldly distractions obscure it.

The poem advising Ma Wenqing says: After awakening to the Dao, one must treasure time even more—each passing moment is as precious as gold. Love and desire are like waves that leave nothing behind; better to seek a true companion amidst life’s chaos.

In response to Heshi Lie of Suzhou asking about his future: The high gates of the Yu family follow their own course, and the blooming of the cinnabar laurels on Mount Yan is no accident. There is no need to obsess over the future—remaining sincere and selfless is enough to make one auspicious.

The poem dedicated to Master Song of Xiaoxian depicts: This gentleman leans on his staff with ease, holding the spiritual pearl (the true essence of the Dao) in his hand. Most suited to dwelling among misty mountains, leisurely reclining by the window, listening to the wind through the pines.

Self-mockery about living in the "Den of Laziness": This lazy man now dwells in the Den of Laziness, restraining the restless mind yet still wasting time. After meals, all I do is sit in a daze—is there anyone in the world lazier than me?

The poem for Lady Gao uses a puppet as a metaphor for the body: Who can see through this puppet-like form? Merely flesh wrapped around dust. When the thread of life snaps, like a puppet after the play, there will be no more news.

To the wife of Supervisor Duji, the poem says: The human body is a lump of foolish flesh formed by the Four Symbols (Yin-Yang, hardness-softness), a stinking skeleton shaped by the Five Phases (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth). Like witnessing a puppet show—each puppet nods and speaks, but it’s all illusion.

The poem for Lady Liu describes the fruits of cultivation: A red lotus blooms in the Crystal Palace, attaining the great awakening of Wuwei (non-action). Lightly stepping onto the path beyond the clouds, soaring into the heavens of Ziwei (the highest Daoist celestial realm).

Advice to the wife of Official Aotun: At seventy, most of life has passed—I urge you to cultivate without delay. Impermanence and death come suddenly; even the dearest children cannot take your place.

The proclamation of Master Luan states: True cultivation requires letting go of all attachments, leaving not a single concern in the heart. In the silence of all things, a spiritual child (the original spirit) appears, riding a fiery ox (a term from inner alchemy).

In praise of Little Yang: The cultivator has a heart of iron and stone, transcending the chaos of the Three Realms. Pointing far into the depths of white clouds—the immortal isle of Penglai was always home.

The poem for Elder Yang says: The Five Phases shaped this stinking bag of skin, yet within lies a divine pearl (the true nature). In stillness, the heart is a clear lotus; in motion, radiance shines everywhere.

The proclamation of Xu Daochong: The life of a cultivator is the most real—after eating one’s fill, one strolls through emerald mountains. When tired, simply lie down by the stream in one’s robes; upon waking, gather belongings and return on the clouds.

The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng contains dialogues and teachings from multiple practitioners, using vivid metaphors to convey essential Daoist cultivation methods.

The first step in spiritual practice is to maintain inner purity, distancing oneself from the torment of desires, nurturing vast righteous Qi (vital energy) in a state of serene emptiness. It is like opening the eye of wisdom (samadhi eye) at the back of the head—then one’s true nature will naturally illuminate the mind. When asked how to attain clarity, the answer is: Once worldly disturbances are set aside, the mind becomes like a cloudless night sky, where the bright moon shines unobstructed.

For those with restless temperaments, the warning is to constantly guard against delusions, as if tethering the "monkey mind" with a rope of thorns until the state of forgetting both self and external objects is reached. A true cultivator is like a carefree traveler on the path of immortality, able to guide the primordial Qi (the "spiritual child") back to the Dantian (the "purple mansion"), harmonizing Yin-Yang (the "jade maiden and golden lotus").

The text admonishes people to sever the shackles of fame and wealth to roam freely beyond material concerns. Yet one must also beware of the three poisons—greed, anger, and delusion—which lurk like venomous snakes in a cave, ready to strike at the slightest carelessness. Time flies, youth fades—do not burden yourself with empty reputation. It mocks worldly people as fools fighting in muddy filth, suggesting it would be better to idly rest one’s head on a wine barrel.

It points out that the true teacher (inner awareness) has never left—every thought and movement is an opportunity for cultivation. If one can abandon all cunning and return to innate clarity, every place becomes a celestial realm. Those who truly awaken to the Dao are like pure water reflecting the whole body or the solitary moon shining bright after clouds disperse.

Cultivation is not as difficult as it seems—the key is to dissolve the distinction between self and others, tempering the realm of true emptiness until the mind becomes as leisurely as drifting white clouds. Finally, the text concludes with a metaphor of early spring: Amidst the hazy mist of spring, the subtle fragrance of riverside plum blossoms heralds the creative force of heaven and earth, stirring new vitality.

As winter fades and spring arrives, the days gradually lengthen, and the sacred grotto-heavens (Daoist cultivation sanctuaries) are the first to embrace the radiant spring light. The Eastern Sovereign (deity of spring) summons immortals to a gathering, their azure-cloud sleeves still fragrant as they depart.

Magistrate Li of Linying recounts: Pine and osmanthus fragrances drift on the breeze, while cold moonlight bathes the mountain halls. The Daoist practitioner sits in serene solitude through the silent night, enveloped in pure coolness amid the stillness of all things.

Aunt Li inquires about the path of cultivation: Though Penglai, the immortal isle, seems within reach, the seeker faces countless barriers. Just as a shepherd boy cannot point the way to Xiangcheng, the Yellow Emperor (revered progenitor in Daoism) still searches for traces of Mount Dakuai.

A poem for Aunt Zhou: The world’s power and profit are cold and unfeeling, but the Daoist has long transcended worldly dust. Last night, a dream of wandering among immortals carried her safely astride a golden luan (divine bird) to the Jade Capital (highest Daoist paradise).

For Yila Dayuan: The heart lies still as dead ashes; the body, barren as withered wood. Yet when the Three Yang’s true fire (cultivation term for pure Yang Qi) descends, even iron trees before the hall burst into bloom.

Elder Nun asks about cultivation methods: You seek the secrets of practice—now I tell you plainly: Sweep away all turbid Yin to reveal the true self, like the moon hanging bright in a clear sky.

Another cultivation verse: Coming and going freely with nature’s flow, as the ancestral Chan saying goes: "The turtle’s long, the snake’s short" (each follows its innate nature). Only by finding that mountain-cool realm can one glimpse the universe within the gourd (a microcosm of spiritual insight).

Proclamation by Dong Zhiyuan: The sword of wisdom swings, scattering delusion, unleashing ten thousand silver rays. It vanquishes the many-eyed Yin corpse (symbol of obstacles), revealing the realm of Xiayi ("soundless and formless" from the Daodejing) within the lotus curtain.

For Xue Liulang, Assembly Leader: The primordial numen (the Dao) dwells between being and nonbeing—moving with circumstance, resting in emptiness. It reigns as sovereign amid the myriad things, endlessly transforming without exhaustion.

Spring Outing: In old age, the long sash feels burdensome; leaning on a bamboo staff, I grudgingly admire spring’s hues. Peach and plum blossoms in the garden sigh enviously: "This complexion rivals even Shen Lang’s (a paragon of beauty)."

Chef Zhang’s query on life and death: Did those who died truly perish? Do the living now truly live? In the end, life and death are one—what matters is abiding in fate and knowing one’s place.

Wandering Cloud Creek: Immortals invite me to seek spring’s traces, where flowers bloom in endless profusion. Straying into the Peach Blossom Spring was no dream—where else in this world could Penglai be found?

Proclamation by Zhang Wuzhen: A single grain of purple-gold cinnabar (alchemical term) in the gourd, refined, radiates countless sunbeams. Upon swallowing it, the world’s confines vanish—suddenly, you stand at the threshold of the great Dao.

Aunt Zhou’s Proclamation: (Text missing; likely a brief verse on cultivation insights or celestial visions, inferred from context.)

The Collected Works of Elder Li Feng gathers insights and dedicatory verses from multiple Daoist practitioners, primarily expounding on the transcendent realm of cultivation that surpasses worldly concerns and embodies carefree liberation.

Zhang Huaiyuan states: When one sees through the illusory nature of all phenomena like dreams and bubbles, comprehending the truth of "non-emptiness," one can dwell in peace, undisturbed by the sun and moon's eternal rising and setting. Historian Liu remarks: By clinging to nothing and penetrating Chan mysteries, one never loses oneself in the human realm, preserving one's original authentic nature.

The poem dedicated to Master Sun depicts the true carefree wanderer unattached to material things, roaming celestial realms with immortal ease—his staff carrying him beyond the clouds, straw sandals treading all grotto-heavens and blessed lands. In the leisurely poem from the Stone Mill Jade Stream Hermitage, the Daoist leans on his staff gazing at western peaks, his heart as free as drifting clouds; napping in fairyland dreams, he becomes indistinguishable from the verdant mountain slopes. Recalling his pilgrimage to the three sacred peaks, all worldly afflictions dissolved.

Master Xin maintains that cultivators should preserve minds as clear as white jade vessels—clouds coming and going without obstruction—attaining the realm beyond birth and extinction. Master Liu points out that the Great Dao (Da) is fundamentally spontaneous and non-active (Wuwei); simply purifying the heart-mind allows one's luminous spiritual nature to perfect itself naturally.

At the Taiqing Temple in Bozhou, the author self-deprecates as a lazy recluse of Cloud Stream, reluctantly supported by fellow Daoists. Within the temple's Qi Zhen Hermitage, pure breezes transport one beyond the dusty world, bamboo shadows dancing gracefully beyond the window. Though birds clamor and visitors come incessantly, inner stillness remains unshaken. Normally indolent and unconstrained by ritual, while idly reading Lao-Zhuang he suddenly apprehends the realm of "forgetting words," his body like withered wood merging with the Great Void (Taixu). The western suburb's Fire Elder (possibly referencing alchemical fire phases) brings momentary smiles; the secluded courtyard breathes cool serenity as his heart expands beneath ten thousand miles of clear skies.

These poetic works collectively embody the Daoist pursuit of natural spontaneity (Ziran) and non-action (Wuwei), transcending worldly attachments while emphasizing a life attitude of mental purity and harmonious accord with circumstances.

The sky is as clear as water, with the moon hanging like a comb halfway up the mountain.

On Reading the Discourse on Forgetting Intentions states: One may search through the Nanhua Jing (the Zhuangzi) for truth, yet in truth, no effort is needed. Know that humans are born with innate spiritual nature—that single point of original radiance remains forever pure and bright.

Record of a Dream recounts: In a dream, I saw sages descending from a jade terrace, riding white cranes and blue phoenixes. Before the practice of the "Great Return Elixir" (Dahuan Dan) could be completed, amid auspicious clouds, they soared back again.

Another verse writes: Beneath the cold window, I quietly rest my head on books and sleep; upon waking, the lamp still burns bright. The moonlight outside the eaves shines like day, the wind still, the mist calm—truly an era of peace.

Admonition to the Magistrate warns officials: In governance, do not harm the people; instead, constantly bestow kindness. At home, be filial to parents; abroad, befriend brothers. Externally, preserve benevolence and righteousness; internally, cultivate your original truth.

Zhang Gu’s Admonition says: The affairs of the world are endless, and all human endeavors turn to emptiness. Better to turn back and seek the original truth of the pre-heaven state—it alone endures through calamities.

Worldly fame and rank need not be forced; riches and honor vanish in a blink. Better to plan early for retreat to the mountains and forests, roaming freely like clouds at the edge of the sky.

Le Gu’s Admonition writes: The paths north and south of the river crisscross, people come and go—what is it all for? How can it compare to sitting quietly in a thatched hut, the mind clear and at ease?

Daoist Huo’s Admonition reflects: This mortal frame has passed sixty years, the face aged, hair and beard streaked with white. Weary of the clamor of the red dust, better to be a wanderer among the misty peaks.

Upon Kang Guobao’s Arrival for the Palace Examination describes: The water and clouds above the stream are calm and distant; the mountain paths are steep and rugged. Only waiting for the autumn wind to fill the sails, then knocking at the gate—suddenly, all becomes clear.

Stone Mill’s Gift to Stone Daoist says: To seek the "Mysterious Pearl" (Xuanzhu, the truth of the Dao) through the "Formless Image" (Wangxiang), once attained, one transcends all. Take care not to cling to dharma appearances—realize the supreme true suchness.

The Cuckoo writes: Green mountains shrouded in low-hanging clouds, the cuckoo cries mournfully day and night. Who understands its cries until blood flows? Each call says, "Better to return."

Admonition to Daoist Du states: Green shade veils the setting sun; white clouds drift over the autumn pond. The Daoist does not understand worldly affairs, dwelling among woods and springs, forgetting both favor and disgrace.

Gift to Daoist Cao praises: Most I love this secluded scenery of woods and streams, where white clouds gather deep and the creek flows east. The Daoist cares not for the rise and fall of worldly affairs—body and mind are free, unbound.

Gaogu of Huaizhou’s Admonition expresses: The essence of Daoist practice lies in returning to simplicity, seeing through the illusions of the red dust. Keep the mind as clear as a mirror—only then can one merge with the Dao.

The collected verses of Elder Lifeng reveal the lifestyle and spiritual insights of Daoist practitioners.

The first poem speaks of how those cultivating the Dao remain untroubled by material poverty, maintaining a pure and simple way of life. Just as clouds disperse to reveal the bright moon, only by turning inward can one perceive the true self. Dong Qilang of Stone Mill remarks: The ancient Daoist realm cannot be forced—how long must one pore over old texts? Better to relinquish attachments and return to the original mind, as natural as the moon hanging in the sky or clear water flowing freely.

Cao Kongyue of Tianhu Shop calls himself the "water buffalo," using the image of an ox tethered by a rope to symbolize how people are bound by desires. He urges himself to practice constant self-discipline to attain true freedom.

A fellow practitioner advises: There is no need to debate who is wise or foolish in this world—the more one argues, the more lost one becomes. One must grasp the truth of serene emptiness, like comprehending the state of "Xi Yi" (the formless, soundless primordial state of Daoism) deep within the white clouds.

The verses of Li Gu and Zhang Gu of Songzhou both compare spiritual cultivation to climbing a mountain to gather precious pearls—though the path is arduous, the reward is certain. The spring wind should not reveal its secrets too soon, for true enlightenment is like an unopened flower bud, requiring patient contemplation.

A poem dedicated to the governor of Songzhou depicts the tranquility of mountain reclusion: In the depths of emerald peaks, white clouds drift leisurely; by chance, one arrives in this mist-wreathed realm. Hidden bird paths wind beyond the smoky trees, while the "wooden man" (a practitioner) strolls amid the verdant slopes.

Practitioner Wang emphasizes diligent cultivation of the "sword of wisdom" to sever delusion and let spiritual light shine forth. Only then will body and mind be free of obstructions, and the primordial spirit (Yuanjun) remain ever-present.

The final verses continue using mountain and water metaphors: Though the journey spans countless rivers and peaks, meeting an old friend requires only sitting quietly to watch the clouds. True cultivation demands treading through iron shoes and enduring hardships until one sees through the illusion of all landscapes. Scholar He of Yuncheng County observes that the Dao lies in genuine practice, not in rigidly studying alchemical texts—realizing the original mind is what truly matters.

These verses employ natural imagery to express the Daoist pursuit of spiritual freedom and a return to simplicity, emphasizing the key principle of shedding attachments and directly pointing to the innate mind.

These poems by Elder Lifeng reveal the transcendent realm of Daoist practitioners who rise above worldly concerns in pursuit of their true nature.

The first poem depicts the meditation state of Abbess Tang—her conduct upright, lips gently closed in stillness. The second, a birthday ode to Abbess Tang, employs "transcendent lingzhi beyond kalpas" (the immortal herb surpassing rebirth) and "realm within the gourd" (the Daoist metaphor for pristine cultivation) to symbolize her detachment from worldly attachments.

Master Wang's admonition reveals the truth of cultivation: only by transcending the red dust can one attain true freedom; only by seeing through life and death can one roam without hindrance. Little Li Gu emphasizes cleansing worldly ties until the mind becomes clear as an ice-vessel, reminding us not to cling to ancestral teachings since our original nature is like a luminous pearl in empty space.

Elder Bian's verse carries self-mockery: seventy years of worldly sophistication rendered his Zen discourses and Daoist discussions empty talk—even mastering ten thousand methods proves futile unless one's heart becomes cold as autumn frost. Chang Gu's teaching warns that seeking masters while bound by formalities loses true freedom; only by abandoning metaphysical debates can one awaken like the bright moon.

In the poem for Han, leader of the assembly, the "empty boat" (mind free from attachments) symbolizes transcendence, while "angling for the golden ao" (metaphor for seeking the Dao) expresses unwavering resolve. For Commander Shuhu, it portrays the carefree wandering of cloud-sojourners debating the Dao all day without noticing time's passage.

Master Zhao's teaching uses autumn wind sweeping leaves to illustrate worldly impermanence, yet washing away worldly toil brings one nearer the immortal realm. His instruction to Xu Gu emphasizes eliminating ego and extinguishing judgment before realizing true suchness ("mou ni" meaning Buddha-nature).

For Vice-Envoy Zhang, the skiff becomes life's metaphor conveying his Dao-seeking determination. Another poem depicts wandering adepts like lone clouds and wild cranes ultimately retiring to blue mountains. For young Zhang Xiaoyilang, the clear autumn night reveals only the primal bright moon (symbol of true nature) shining eternally.

The final teaching for Ma Gu of Shenyang states: whether seeking the Dao east or west, understanding the ancestral master's "western meaning" (Chan Buddhism's ultimate truth) allows enlightenment like moonlight illuminating rivers and mountains. These poems transform cultivation realms into poetic expression through natural imagery, embodying the Daoist cultivation principle of "the Dao follows nature."

These poetic verses by Elder Lifeng are imbued with profound Daoist wisdom, expressed in accessible language:

A practitioner wandered the land for ten years, traveling far with his walking stick, only to realize the true Dao was always within his heart. It's like awakening dormant spiritual awareness to rediscover the primordial teacher of heaven and earth.

To a man of seven-foot stature, he says: A dignified man risking his life like licking honey from a blade's edge is unwise. Every person possesses innate treasures—why venture beneath the dragon's jaw seeking pearls?

Advising an official friend: Serving with integrity brings greater merit than spiritual cultivation. Rather than visiting reclusive adepts, better to heal the people's suffering through benevolent governance.

To Master Song the practitioner: No need to rigidly study alchemical scriptures. With a dust-free pure heart, one naturally becomes companion to clouds and mist, coming and going freely.

On the nature of Dao: The Dao exists naturally—simply follow its flow. Human fortunes and intelligence are heaven-ordained; no need for forced striving.

Lamenting worldly attachments: People chase mundane splendor yet miss the gourd's celestial realm (the inner spiritual world). Like admiring dewdrops on flowers while losing eternal spring.

Essential cultivation reminder: Like carving chaos to reveal primal truth, become one liberated from worldly dust. But beware—while observing external changes, don't lose your original mind.

The fishing metaphor: I cast for the great fish, unafraid of stormy waves. With the fragrant bait (true cultivation), one ultimately catches the divine prize and ascends the nine heavens.

Visiting sages: True adepts visit with walking sticks, discussing Dao only with humble practitioners. Wordless mutual understanding brings rich returns from empty-hearted exchange.

Cultivation state: Few distracting thoughts within, auspicious Qi (vital energy) surrounds. Sleeves flowing with mountain breeze, like crimson silk soaring through misty vines.

Admonishing Daoist Zhang: Having escaped worldly nets, don't entangle with new temptations. Be like river fish enjoying boundless waves—keep your scales untainted by worldly dust.

Observing human folly: Seasons turn while mortals chase fame and gain. Bound by attachments like yoked oxen—when will they awaken?

Enlightening Recluse Zhao: Awakened, Penglai's paradise lies at hand; deluded, dust covers all. The key is that undimmed spark of spiritual clarity within.

The wick is newly trimmed—don't let the oil run dry and the lamp dim again.

For Elder Shi the Daoist:

You are like the golden towers in the immortal realm of the gourd, the jade blossoms in the moon palace in full bloom. Cranes cry across the azure sky, the crimson phoenix dances, and beyond the rainbow clouds lies Penglai, the isle of immortals.

For Daoist Zhao:

The human heart is originally pure and free of dust; this illusory body is itself the embodiment of the Dao (the Way). The Dao resides within your nature—there’s no need to seek it elsewhere. Following the natural flow of all things is true spontaneity.

Advice for Zhang, Leader of the Dragon’s Den Assembly:

How many truly understand the essence of our Daoist path? Those who do must grasp the profound mysteries of creation. Within stillness lies wondrous function; within Wuwei (non-action) hides the workings of heaven.

Admonition for Daoist Tian:

Cultivation begins with comprehending the Dao of nature—only by aligning with it can one become a true immortal. Heavy adornments are deluded fantasies, like trying to strike fire from ice—utterly futile.

For Sister Kou of the Three Lords Temple in Nanjing:

Preserve true purity and stillness to extend your years; refining Qi (vital energy) first requires understanding nature’s way. A single cinnabar grain, transformed through nine cycles, becomes ten thousand auspicious clouds enveloping the golden immortals.

A Reminder for Yuanxian:

As a newcomer to the Dao, don’t squander your time—reflect deeply on your practice. Don’t let fresh dust cloud your heart’s mirror, and guard against old habits that harm your innate nature.

For Daoist Liang:

Within you is a luminous pearl reflecting the sun, radiant in the crystal palace. Yet you rush about with such a priceless treasure, entangled in worldly trivialities.

Written While Crossing Mengjin:

The surging river flows eastward; sunlit drifting clouds have witnessed countless springs and autumns. If only I could ride a divine raft across the sea, I’d reach the Fusang Isles to gaze upon the immortal lands.

Guidance for Carpenter Yangxian:

Roaming countless mountains and rivers, this body remains free as a wandering cloud. Returning home, I recline beneath the moonlit sky, the pine breeze cooling me to the bone.

Warning for Overseer Dong:

Only after true awakening do you realize no effort is needed—all those arcane words can be set aside. Let things go as they will, lean on your staff, and wander carefree through heaven and earth.

For Daoist Tian of Mount Song:

Leisurely visiting old friends, you nurture your innate purity deep in the clouds. The west wind shakes loose the moon from the pine boughs—you wait in stillness for dawn over Fusang.

Admonition for County Chu’s Assembly Leader:

Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) selects immortal talents, crossing cloud-wrapped peaks to seek you out. Yet our great Dao is, in truth, simple—

The poetry of Elder Lifeng is imbued with Daoist cultivation wisdom and life philosophy, explained here in plain terms:

"Where actions match words and worldly attachments are overturned—there lies Penglai" teaches that sincere conduct and relinquishing mundane obsessions transform the present moment into an immortal realm. His "Ode to Snow" depicts winter plum blossoms foreseeing seasonal changes, metaphorically suggesting that cultivators must perceive celestial mechanisms earlier than ordinary people.

In his verse for Overseer Li, he mentions how the "Primordial Numinous Treasure" (referring to one's innate primordial Qi) is elusive, requiring transcendence of desires to attain. For Daoist Shi, he emphasizes the "Gate of All Mysteries" (the origin of Dao) renews daily, urging practitioners to maintain purity of heart and jointly pursue the path of longevity with fellow cultivators.

His poem "Self-Joy" portrays the leisurely life of cultivation—not striving for ascension, but content as a carefree wanderer in the human realm. When bidding farewell to Taiqing Temple, though failing to attain Dao at this ancestral shrine, he had already released worldly ties to wander with white clouds.

He advises Immortal Shang to transcend ghostly rebirth and open the mysterious gate. For Official Li, he uses a fisherman's detachment toward catch-or-no-catch to illustrate the cultivator's indifferent mindset. To his Chenzhou fellow practitioner, he recommends retiring after success to refine solar-lunar essences and cultivate the "Yang Spirit" (original spirit).

For Official Li of Feizhuang, he clarifies that immortality-seeking needn't involve abrupt abandonment of worldly connections—gradual merit accumulation naturally leads to Penglai. Warning his Baisha comrade, he stresses taming the "mind-monkey and idea-horse" (discursive thoughts), seeing through life-death to attain true liberation.

In his final poems, a "five-acre miniature Penglai" symbolizes pure practice spaces, emphasizing inner reflection over external forms. Terms like "Prajnaparamita" (Buddhist wisdom) matter less than realizing one's original face.

The Collected Works of Elder Lifeng contains dialogues and teachings exchanged with various practitioners and truth-seekers, each verse imbued with cultivation wisdom.

To Sister Ren, he revealed: "Dispelling doubts in the heart should be as effortless as sudden laughter—no need to rush about seeking answers elsewhere. Your own mind inherently possesses the radiance of the bright moon; why borrow another's candlelight?"

For Daoist Shi, he explained: "The wondrous realm beyond worldly affairs and the tides of fame and fortune are as natural as the ebb and flow of ocean waves. Those who truly attain the Dao have already reached Penglai, the isle of immortals, and will no longer linger in Handan's dream" (a metaphor for illusory pursuits of reputation and gain).

His verse for Assembly Leader Chen employs a mountain stream as metaphor: "Day and night, the clear brook whispers the true meaning of the great Dao (Dao). Yet those chasing fame and fortune only see ripples on the surface, missing the profound mystery within."

To Daoist Wang, he taught: "A straight hook cannot catch the moon in water; a dense net cannot gather clouds beneath the waves. The harder you strive, the farther you stray from the Dao. Only by relinquishing attachments can the true transmission be received."

Other teachings include exhortations to study the immortals' path of longevity, discourses on releasing thoughts to follow nature's flow, and reminders that every moment offers opportunities for carefree harmony. The most unadorned teaching came during Taiping Temple's closing assembly: "Cultivation manifests in daily life—eat when hungry, sleep when weary. No need to calculate gains and losses."

These revelations all emphasize that inner awakening outweighs external pursuits. One must release attachments, follow what is natural, and realize the great Dao (Dao) within ordinary existence.

I was originally a cultivator on Peach Blossom Peak, yet by chance left footprints in the mortal world. Though the ancestral temple (referring to sacred Daoist sites) is wondrous, my karmic connection there remains premature—better to let white clouds carry me back to my mountain origins.

Another verse reads: The wind drifts lightly to the ancestral temple, where auspicious mists carry osmanthus fragrance. Since the time is not yet ripe, I must turn back—better to return behind the embroidered screen of Yichuan.

Reflections after returning to Changsheng Temple: Having seen through the world’s illusory appearances, I remain unmoved even by endless slander. Light mists and thin fogs are but fleeting veils—the distant mountains remain as composed as ever.

A self-admonition: Severing the clamor of worldly affairs, I gather the Mysterious Pearl (referring to Neidan, internal alchemy) into a precious vessel. Henceforth, I care not for cleverness or folly—releasing attachments brings true peace.

Written while wandering Laojun Mountain: With sleeves fluttering, I step beyond the mountain gate, turning to see peaks shaped like Laozi (the deified Laozi). Listening to the clear spring converse with stones, I hear it plainly expound the profundity of the Daodejing’s five thousand words.

Guidance for Daoist Hu of Zhicha Mountain: Dwelling in a thatched hut deep in the mountains, enveloped in endless clouds and mists. The herb-gathering immortal boy returns with sleeves full of breeze, bearing purple lingzhi (immortal herb) amid rare fragrances.

Admonition for Elder Zhang (temple overseer): Becoming an immortal or Buddha demands effort—meticulously purge worldly distractions. Only when spiritual radiance illuminates the cosmos will you see all mortal knowledge as dregs.

Counsel for Lady Pucha: I cherish these forested springs and windswept osmanthus. Travelers pause mid-journey to smile—why must the world hurry so?

A birthday blessing for Lady Pucha: This Daoist too offers felicitations—why trouble with life’s boundless affairs? Accept this single elixir with laughter; pines and cranes prolonging years are no marvel.

For Grand Tutor Sun’s Lady: Fame unachieved, yet age arrives—white-haired, cultivation comes late. Sudden awakening: this body was never mine—the realm of true emptiness, unstained as white clouds.

Admonition for Elder Tian: Luminous spirituality dwells within—a single word can build endless obstructions. Clarity and emptiness hold the true teaching—no need to seek methods beyond.

Guidance for Sister Ma: Creation’s wonders lie in nature itself—no need to seek immortals elsewhere. When heavenly light dawns, mundane attachments vanish—a mirror-like mind completes the Dao’s vision.