《同參經》

Since ancient times, when written records began to flourish, the designation of "Jing" (scripture) has circulated in the world. The sage-kings of antiquity compiled teachings on human relations and daily ethics into instructive texts to educate the people, guiding them toward goodness and reform, thereby achieving great order under heaven. Later generations thus revered these texts as essential classics for governing the world. It was not solely Buddhism and Daoism that initiated the use of "Jing" to distinguish their teachings as novel. In truth, Buddhist and Daoist scriptures also serve to enlighten the human mind and assist in the transformative governance of the kingly way. Yet worldly Confucian scholars, without thorough examination, dismiss these scriptures as contrary to the Dao of the sages—no wonder the ignorant follow suit, hastily mocking and criticizing them.

When Sovereign Fu You (the Daoist immortal Lü Dongbin) expounded this scripture, he harmonized the teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, synthesized the wisdom of the Five Classics (Confucian texts), and compiled the profound sayings of the Four Masters of Confucius' school (Yan Hui, Zeng Shen, Zisi, and Mencius), along with the doctrines of the Hundred Schools of Thought. Drawing extensively from canonical sources, he resolved doubts and connected principles into a coherent whole. The scripture's meaning is both lucid and profound, its language comprehensive and meticulous, revealing mysteries the ancient sages never articulated and elucidating truths the immortals and buddhas never fully disclosed. It serves not only as a guide for spiritual cultivation and realization of the Dao but also as a vital text for educating the world, playing no small role in enlightening minds and supporting the kingly way of transformation.

Readers of this scripture should study its words earnestly, contemplate its deeper meanings, recite it morning and evening, and practice it daily. Do not simplistically regard it as a Buddhist or Daoist text at odds with the teachings of the sages. Remember: among ten households, there must be one loyal and trustworthy person—how could such a vast world lack those who understand? Those with deep roots of goodness and keen intelligence, if they diligently practice and widely propagate this scripture, ensuring every household understands its principles and every individual nurtures a heart inclined toward goodness, will find blessings arriving naturally, without seeking them. The scripture's role in assisting the transformative governance of the kingly way and supplementing the teachings of sages relies precisely on its preservation—how could it be merely a Daoist scripture?

If one considers this only as numinous text decreed by the Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Laozi) or as the essential Dharma teachings revealed by the Sovereign of Culture (Wenchang Dijun), storing it away unread for years or reciting it mechanically without embodying its ethical principles in daily life, how could this align with the compassionate intent of the Sovereign to aid the world and deliver beings? Future readers of this scripture should reflect deeply on these words of mine.

(Inscribed by the Sovereign of Culture, Wenchang Dijun, the Daoist deity who oversees literary fortunes and scholarly merit.)

In ancient times, the perfected Wei Boyang (a renowned alchemist of the Eastern Han dynasty) composed the Cantong Qi (Token for the Agreement of the Three), using the principles of the Yijing (Book of Changes) to expound specifically on the Dao of alchemy. Now, the Sovereign Fu You (an honorific title for the immortal Lü Dongbin) has synthesized the teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, opening an eternal path to enlightenment. Based on plain yet profound principles, he developed profound and subtle writings—their content appears simple yet contains deep meaning, their reasoning seems straightforward yet conceals hidden mysteries.

From antiquity to the present, no one has ever so perfectly integrated, complemented, and elucidated the three teachings, allowing them to coexist harmoniously like the sun, moon, and stars without obscuring one another. This scripture can bring sudden clarity, enabling mutual verification of truth without any obstruction, hence its title: Tongcan Jing (Scripture of Shared Realization).

I shall not elaborate further on the original preface by the Sovereign Wenchang (deity overseeing literary fortunes). Since people often mistake "shared realization" (tongcan) for "agreement of the three" (cantong), I have clarified the scripture's title at the outset to guide future learners. The disciple Liu Shouyuan of the Hongjiao lineage, having reverently purified himself through fasting and ablutions, composed this preface for the scripture's republication in the Daozang Jiyao (Essentials of the Daoist Canon).

This scripture is divided into three volumes (upper, middle, and lower) comprising twenty-nine chapters. The upper volume focuses on foundational cultivation: from the origins of spiritual practice and the profound principles of primordial Qi (yuanqi), to basic disciplines like revering heaven and earth, purifying body and mind, abstaining from false speech, and controlling scattered thoughts, and further to investigating the source of one's nature, cultivating virtue (De), upholding human relationships, and fulfilling duties with loyalty.

The middle volume delves into essential cultivation methods: resolving doubts, carefully selecting teachers and companions, valuing the roots of teaching, preserving true primordial Qi, cultivating good deeds extensively, discerning genuine practitioners from false ones, as well as core Neidan (internal alchemy) topics like the mysteries of the Mysterious Pass (xuanguan), the regulation of firing times (huohou), and the application of the "medicinal substances" (referring to Jing, Qi, and Shen in alchemical terminology). It also touches on Zen's highest realization and warnings for meditators, ultimately unifying the principles of the three teachings.

The lower volume emphasizes the law of karma: surviving calamities depends on virtuous deeds, heavenly principles and human Dao are fundamentally one, maintaining prosperity lies in virtue, cause and effect are undeniably real, retribution for sins and blessings is exact, and the scrutiny of spirits is verifiable—finally arriving at the non-duality of Dharma (teachings) and essence (one's nature), while summarizing the scripture's essential meaning.

The Tongcan Jing (Scripture of Shared Realization) is a vital Daoist scripture attributed to Patriarch Lü Chunyang (Lü Dongbin, one of the Daoist Eight Immortals, revered as "Fu You Shangdi"). The opening eulogy conveys that this scripture reveals profound mysteries, synthesizing the essential teachings of the Three Traditions (Daoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism). Though the Great Dao (Dao) is profoundly subtle, its truth can be comprehended through a purified heart-mind.

The first chapter recounts the scripture's origins: In ancient times, after attaining realization, the Celestial Worthy of Vast Dharma (i.e., Patriarch Lü) vowed before Master Zhengyang (Zhongli Quan, Lü Dongbin's teacher) to universally deliver all beings. He thus wandered the human realm, expounding eight sections of immortal scriptures. Yet people often misinterpreted their metaphors—such as "water and fire refinement" (Neidan alchemical processes), the "infant and maiden" (symbolizing Yin-Yang harmonization in internal alchemy), or the "dragon-tiger crucible" (representing the interplay of Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit))—leading them astray.

Some clever individuals became overly attached to literal meanings, failing to grasp the truths beyond the words. Moved by compassion, the Celestial Worthy frequently manifested in the Yi-Zhen stellar region (an ancient astrological division corresponding to the Chu region) to expound the teachings. Later, he revealed five and then three additional scripture sections, elucidating the refined principles of Great Vehicle (Dacheng) cultivation and emphasizing awakening one's fundamental nature.

However, as these scriptures circulated sparsely and attracted few adherents, the Celestial Worthy petitioned the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi Tianzun, the supreme Daoist deity) to disseminate them more widely. After assessing karmic conditions, he chose the Ezhou region (modern Hubei) to propagate the teachings. Reporting to Yuanshi Tianzun, he explained that celestial cycles had aligned and conditions ripened for spreading the arcane arts in the Chu territories (modern Hubei-Hunan) under the Yi-Zhen asterism. Yuanshi Tianzun approved and ordered these classics to be systematically compiled for broader transmission.

This scripture recounts how the Celestial Worthy (one of Daoism's highest deities) revealed the fundamental principles of spiritual practice to all beings. Riding five-colored auspicious clouds from the Jade Capital's Golden Tower (a sacred celestial realm in Daoism), the deity descended to Ezhou (a legendary site of divine manifestations) to establish an altar. There, the Celestial Worthy expounded the thirty-two chapters of the Supreme Scripture for Salvation from Calamities to both celestial immortals and earthly disciples.

In the "Chapter on the Mysterious Essence of Primordial Qi," the Celestial Worthy pointed out to the assembly that the foundation of Dao cultivation lies in comprehending the "Primordial Undifferentiated Qi" (Hunyuan Yiqi, the most primordial energy of the cosmos). This innate Qi existed before the formation of heaven and earth—formless and imageless, yet giving birth to all things. Heaven relies on it to regulate the cycles of seasons and day-night alternation, while earth depends on it to support mountains and rivers. Humans, endowed with the Qi of heaven and earth at birth, embody heaven's vigorous Yang Qi and earth's yielding Yin Qi, with these two energies circulating endlessly. What Confucianism calls "heaven-mandated nature," Buddhism terms "original face," and Daoism investigates as "the state before parents conceived us"—all ultimately refer to this innate Primordial Qi.

The teachings of Lord Lao (the founding sage of Daoism) about "what existed before the Lord on High" and "the undifferentiated thing born before heaven and earth," along with the cultivation writings of sages throughout history, all revolve around this fundamental truth. Sadly, later generations failed to recognize this root and instead sought externally, studying countless scriptures while allowing their innate primordial energy (Yuanyang Zhenqi) to dissipate. They died without understanding reality—a profound tragedy. Here, the Celestial Worthy particularly emphasizes that genuine cultivation requires recognizing and mastering this primordial foundation.

This scripture expounds two core concepts: the Primordial Qi (Xiantian Yiqi, the fundamental energy that constitutes all things in the universe according to Daoism) and the importance of revering Heaven and Earth.

Regarding Primordial Qi, it describes this energy as the most fundamental existence of the cosmos, which cannot be comprehended through mere rigid meditation. True cultivation must be practiced in daily life—whether walking, resting, speaking, or acting—one must carefully observe and experience it. When you observe the changes in your own movement and stillness, you'll notice that during movement, you don't know where it begins, and during stillness, you don't know why it stops. This vague, elusive state is difficult to grasp. If you can delve deeply into this origin, suddenly the radiance of your true nature will manifest, like sunlight piercing through clouds, instantly dissolving all accumulated habitual tendencies. Even great calamities cannot harm you. This energy is vast enough to encompass the entire universe yet finer than a grain of rice, yet it has no concrete form. This is the most essential foundation for attaining immortality. Without understanding this principle, even after lifetimes of cultivation, one remains trapped in deliberate, artificial practices (youwei fa), which are ultimately flawed.

Concerning reverence for Heaven and Earth, the Celestial Worthy (Tianzun, the highest deity in Daoism) reveals: Practitioners must understand the origin of mind and nature. When humans and all things are born, their innate nature is bestowed by Heaven, and their physical form is carried by Earth. Thus, Heaven and Earth are called the "Great Father and Great Mother." Throughout history, no Buddha, immortal, sage, or worthy has failed to first revere Heaven and Earth. Though people may differ in wealth, status, or nobility, all equally dwell within Heaven and Earth. People today no longer recognize that their life and nature come from Heaven and Earth; they act recklessly, violating cosmic principles, and thus invite misfortunes like poverty and illness. Foolish beings fail to realize they reap what they sow, instead blaming Heaven and Earth. Some feign virtue while coveting what they don’t deserve—this deceives Heaven and Earth. Others commit evil in secret but are exposed—this betrays their conscience. Still others speak of benevolence and morality while harboring malice—this profanes Heaven and Earth. Such actions inevitably incur Heaven and Earth’s retribution.

This scripture expounds on genuine reverence for Heaven and Earth, while criticizing superficial displays of piety that mask hypocrisy.

If one acts deceitfully toward Heaven (meaning violating cosmic principles), believing others won't know, this is deceiving Heaven. Facing the Three Luminaries (sun, moon, and stars) without sincerity or respect, behaving carelessly without dignity, and lacking awe in one's heart—this is defiling Heaven. If one envies others' wealth due to personal misfortune and complains about Heaven's injustice, this is slandering Heaven. Studying texts without seeking deeper understanding, reciting scriptures without grasping their true meaning, recklessly criticizing ancient sages, or mocking those who embody the Dao—this is despising Heaven.

Some may know they should cultivate goodness, but if their virtuous thoughts are impure, their virtuous roots unstable, and their virtuous fruits shallow, yet they hastily seek blessings and frequently petition monks or Daoist priests to submit memorials to the celestial court—this is actually blaspheming the divine. True practitioners must first revere Heaven and Earth, but this "reverence" is not flattery or seeking favors—even upright people see through such acts, let alone Heaven and Earth!

Genuine reverence arises from constant self-reflection through one's innate nature (xingtian, the primordial spiritual essence within) and unceasing vigilance over one's heart-mind. One should neither speak words nor commit deeds contrary to the Dao of Heaven and Earth. With our luminous nature, we contemplate Heaven's vastness; with our tranquil heart-mind, we observe Earth's steadfastness. As Mencius said, "Preserve the heart and nurture the nature to serve Heaven," or as the Book of Rites states, "Upon hearing thunder, feel awe; rise at midnight to examine oneself"—this is true reverence.

Worldly people, lacking sincere cultivation, perform temporary ritual displays to deceive Heaven. Though fully comprehending one's nature is difficult, beginning cultivation through reverence—maintaining the awareness that even in a dark, solitary room, divine beings witness all—ensures no evil thoughts arise. Without such disturbances, the mind settles, the nature becomes clear as an open sky, and the three karmic actions (body, speech, and thought) naturally purify. When these are purified, the six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) and their corresponding six dusts (forms, sounds, scents, tastes, touches, and mental objects) also become pure, laying the foundation for sagehood.

Yet cultivation admits no slackness; one must continually cleanse the heart-mind. When turbid yin energies dissipate completely and the yang spirit (yangshen) emerges, entering the state of primordial stillness (hundun), the innate true nature radiates its light. Then one may sit upright in the celestial court (symbolizing high attainment), appearing or vanishing at will. Whether called a Buddha, an immortal (xian), or a sage, these are but names—their essence is one. Terms like immortals, Buddhas, and sages are provisional labels, all originating from the single heart-mind. Though heart (xin) and nature (xing) seem distinct, they are fundamentally one, united with Heaven and Earth—this is the state of "the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and humanity) merging into one." True reverence for Heaven and Earth yields the most wondrous efficacy in cultivation.

This passage discusses the negative karma to be wary of and the behavioral guidelines in spiritual cultivation. It first points out that merely putting on the appearance of studying the Dao while lacking genuine reverence for the heavenly principles will ultimately lead one to fall into negative paths, forever losing the true path of cultivation.

Chapter Four on purifying bodily karma states: Only by maintaining constant reverence in the heart can one purify the three karmas of body, speech, and mind. However, achieving this requires continuous self-reflection on one’s actions. Take the karma of killing, for example—people of all social standings, rich or poor, noble or humble, are prone to committing it. Acts like waging unjust wars, massacring surrendered soldiers, or treating human life as worthless constitute grave killing karma. The wealthy who casually slaughter livestock, butchers who kill animals, and even seemingly minor actions like carelessly crushing insects in spring or indiscriminately cutting down plants—all these also count as killing karma.

Some people harbor murderous thoughts out of hatred, and Heaven records these offenses—eventually, retribution must be faced. Similarly, officials who manipulate laws to harm others or abuse punishments create cycles of vengeance. The Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Taishang Laojun) said: Though the Dao of Heaven does not speak, the law of cause and effect never errs. If one abstains from killing and cherishes all life, they will resonate with Heaven and Earth, naturally dispelling misfortune and increasing blessings.

Next is theft. On the surface, most people would not willingly engage in outright stealing, but theft is not limited to overt robbery or secret larceny. Officials embezzling public funds, taking others’ possessions without permission—even something as small as a blade of grass, a sip of water, or a bite of food—counts as theft if it is not rightfully theirs. The ancient sages would not take even a single undeserved stalk of grass because they understood this principle. Even scholars plagiarizing others’ writings or seeking fame through deception are, in essence, acts of theft.

The text particularly emphasizes that cultivation must begin with the smallest details—even seemingly trivial matters must be approached with caution. Every action generates corresponding karmic consequences. Only by maintaining reverence and constant self-reflection can one truly purify their bodily karma.

This scripture primarily discusses the harms of two major unwholesome karmas (negative behaviors) and methods to abstain from them.

The first section addresses the dangers of "sexual misconduct" (yinye). It points out that lustful transgressions are the most common in society, particularly among the powerful and the educated. Not only do actual acts count as sexual misconduct, but creating obscene works, producing lewd tools, entertaining lustful thoughts, and speaking of indecent matters are all manifestations of unresolved sexual karma. Truly, few can remain unmoved when faced with beauty. The Buddha taught his disciples to regard older women as elder sisters and younger ones as daughters—only then can one guard the original mind. The root of sexual misconduct lies in the heart, and it is most prevalent among the wealthy and intellectuals. To purify the body, one must first purify the mind.

The second section discusses the harms of "verbal misconduct" (kouye). Even if one's physical conduct is upright, one must still be especially mindful of faults in speech. Verbal misconduct is easier to commit than bodily misconduct—even sages are not entirely free from it. Confucius most admired disciples who were cautious in speech and action, while the eloquent Zigong once left regrets due to improper words. The Buddha once led his disciples across the Ganges when they encountered a monstrous fish with the heads of a hundred beasts. He explained that in a past life, this had been a contentious monk who frequently cursed others with malicious words, ultimately receiving this karmic retribution. The monk had insulted others by comparing them to various animals, only to end up in such a form himself. The deeper such unwholesome karma accumulates, the heavier the retribution becomes—so severe that liberation may remain out of reach even after countless kalpas.

Through these two examples, the scripture warns practitioners that only by uprooting lustful thoughts and harmful speech from their source in the mind can one truly purify body and spirit.

This scripture warns people to be cautious in speech and conduct, avoiding the four verbal transgressions (false speech, frivolous speech, divisive speech, and harsh speech). The intelligent are prone to divisive speech (sowing discord) and harsh speech (hurtful words), while the foolish more easily indulge in idle chatter and nonsense.

New Confucian scholars, monks with superficial understanding of Zen, and Daoist practitioners barely acquainted with daoyin (health-preserving exercises) often become arrogant and boastful. Confucian students claim mastery of "refining unity to hold the mean" (the Confucian heart-method), Buddhists proclaim attainment of the "supreme vehicle" (highest Dharma), while Daoists boast of achieving the "Golden Elixir" (Jindan). These are grave falsehoods—self-deception that also misleads others, trapping them in lifelong delusion without realizing it.

Literati are especially prone to frivolous speech (ornate but empty words), flaunting their talent through flowery poetry while unaware they violate precepts. Worse still are those who spread heresies to confuse the masses, corrupting morals and customs for momentary gratification, blind to the lasting harm they cause. Though frivolous speech may seem a minor fault, its karmic retribution is severe.

Divisive speech isn't limited to petty gossip—it includes Confucian scholars' endless debates, court ministers' fickleness, and even heretical teachers' equivocations that mislead students. Harsh speech manifests when fools seize others' faults to mock them mercilessly, exposing their weaknesses. Such behavior invites heavenly punishment, like the sinful fish in the Ganges destined for wretched rebirth.

These transgressions aren't just condemned in Buddhist and Daoist scriptures; Confucian classics like the Book of Documents and Book of Songs also emphasize "guarding one's words." The calamities sparked by careless speech are legion. Thus, we urge all to heed the ancient teaching of "sealing the lips thrice": maintain silence, refrain from flaunting wit or verbal aggression, and speak only with reverent caution.

This scripture primarily explains how to purify body and mind through controlling thoughts, divided into three progressive levels:

First, it addresses purification of speech. One must constantly examine whether one's words avoid falsehood, flowery rhetoric, divisive speech, and malicious language. Only by purifying verbal karma (speech actions) can one cultivate the body and align with the Dao of Heaven—this is the foundation for nurturing De (Virtue/Power).

Next, it emphasizes the importance of intention. Speech originates from thought, and all thoughts arise from the heart-mind. As the ruler of the body, the heart-mind must be strictly disciplined. If one fails to restrain behavior with Daoist principles or regulate thoughts with ritual propriety, harmful thoughts will proliferate uncontrollably. Intentions are like a chariot pulled by four horses—one must master the method of steering rather than letting them run wild. Ancient sages taught people to practice "vigilance in solitude" (maintaining caution even when alone), the only way to ensure thoughts remain sincere and free from the Three Poisons (greed, hatred, and delusion).

The text then elaborates on the dangers of greed. Greed isn't limited to major evils like abusing power for wealth or taking bribes—it includes merchants monopolizing markets or bullies seizing possessions. Laozi said, "Not seeing desirable things keeps the mind undisturbed," as precious objects distort behavior, while the Book of Rites warns against excessive desire. Once greed arises, one prioritizes self-interest over others, extinguishing virtuous thoughts and breeding negative karma.

Greed transforms into various misdeeds: craving fame leads to anxiety over gain and loss, breeding resentment when unfulfilled (hatred); coveting profit justifies exploitation (theft); lusting after beauty descends into debauchery (licentiousness). These greed-fueled actions—whether through bullying or scheming—bring endless calamities.

Finally, practitioners are admonished: one must establish pure aspirations, purify intentions, and renounce craving. This passage thoroughly analyzes greed's evolution—from initial thoughts to concrete misdeeds—serving as vital spiritual guidance for cultivation.

The Tongcan Jing (Scripture of Joint Cultivation) warns practitioners against two detrimental mental states: anger and ignorance.

First, the perils of anger. Wrath burns like wildfire—once ignited, it's nearly impossible to extinguish. The Yinfu Jing (Scripture of Hidden Correspondences) states: "Fire emerges from wood, and calamity inevitably consumes its source," just as wood generates flames that ultimately destroy itself. Thus both Buddhist and Daoist traditions emphasize cultivating forbearance to quench anger's fire. Laozi taught that "the highest virtue resembles water"—nourishing all things without contention, embodying the Dao's essence. Softness overcomes hardness; weakness conquers strength. The Quli (Book of Rites) similarly advises maintaining maternal gentleness and humility rather than contentiousness.

Confucian sages like Yan Hui never took offense when wronged, while Mencius would first examine his own conduct when encountering rudeness—both understood anger's corrosive effect on cultivation. Yet foolish people today seek revenge for slights, escalating from harsh words to drawn blades, sacrificing themselves and families to momentary rage. Such resentment, when harbored within, inevitably manifests through speech and action. Tragically, the deluded die without comprehending this truth.

Regarding ignorance: this refers not to innate dullness but to stubborn adherence to erroneous views. Some cling to false notions, deaf to truth, refusing correction even from enlightened teachers. Worse are the clever who recognize life's illusory nature and fleeting pleasures, yet remain entangled in desires—momentarily resolved to abstain, only to relapse. Like sunlight obscured by clouds, their original clarity remains veiled in lifelong confusion. When death approaches with belated regret, redemption proves impossible.

The scripture concludes that among the three karmic forces—body (actions), speech (words), and mind (thoughts)—physical and verbal karma manifest externally and are easier to recognize and amend. Mental karma, however, remains deeply concealed and hardest to control. Purifying these three constitutes the Ten Virtues, whose perfection leads to celestial realms; indulging them becomes the Ten Evils, condemning one to samsara's bitter ocean.

The cultivator must be prudent in handling the three aspects of conduct—body, speech, and mind (the Three Karmas)—for only then can one truly enter the gate of Daoist practice.

Chapter Seven on investigating the fundamental principle states: When one purifies the Three Karmas of body, speech, and mind, one may comprehend the supreme Dao. The essence of this Dao is difficult to articulate—it has no fixed form yet manifests all forms, no concrete image yet presents myriad images. Though we hear sounds, the Dao itself is soundless; though we see colors, the Dao itself is colorless. Profound and mysterious, elusive and inscrutable, it cannot be grasped by intellect nor known through knowledge. When it manifests, it is omnipresent; when it withdraws, even heaven and earth cannot perceive it. If heaven and earth remain unaware, how much less can humans fathom it?

Yet this Dao—when actively sought, it seems empty and traceless, yet when earnestly contemplated, it is undeniably real. All things between heaven and earth embody this Dao. It generates substance from emptiness and returns substance to emptiness. From nothingness comes being, from being returns nothingness—this mutual generation of being and non-being is profoundly subtle. The Supreme Elder Lord (Laozi) called it the "mystery beyond mysteries," while Emperor Wenshi (Guan Yinzi) said: "It is not that the Dao cannot be spoken of—what cannot be spoken of is the Dao itself." Though the Dao is nameless, we reluctantly name it "Dao." But having named it so, does this mean it cannot be sought after?

The Book of Changes states: "The alternation of yin and yang is called the Dao," while Zisi remarked: "Following one's inherent nature is the Dao." Humans are born endowed with the dual qi of yin and yang, and our inherent nature resides within the heart. The essential method of cultivation lies in comprehending the transformations of yin and yang. Though the essence of the Dao is singular, its teachings adapt diversely: Buddhism and Daoism emphasize the wondrous realm of mystical emptiness, while Confucianism stresses practical action. Thus the Book of Changes observes that the benevolent see benevolence and the wise see wisdom—this marks the distinction among the Three Teachings.

Though the substance of the Dao is empty, its function is concrete. Those who truly realize the Dao directly investigate the essence of xing (nature) and ming (life), advancing diligently in practice until sudden awakening dawns. This is the "immediate enlightenment" path of superior practitioners. As for those of middling or lesser capacity, they must cultivate steadily through daily actions until, having deepened their practice and received guidance from an enlightened teacher, they too may awaken. This is the "gradual enlightenment" approach. Though methods differ in difficulty, the ultimate goal of realizing the Dao remains the same.

If cultivators can quiet their minds during leisure to contemplate inwardly and reflect on their inherent nature, they need not seek externally—the Dao resides within, and our original nature is already complete. Mundane Confucian scholars, unaware of this truth, mistakenly criticize Buddhism and Daoism for pursuing emptiness and quiescence.

This scripture primarily explores the true meanings of "emptiness" (xu) and "non-being" (wu), while demonstrating the fundamental unity of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism.

First, it clarifies that "emptiness" does not signify complete voidness but contains substantial reality; "non-being" is not absolute nothingness but gives birth to being. Just as withered plants may appear lifeless yet retain vital energy (qi) within, allowing them to regrow in spring. Thus, stillness is not utter annihilation, nor is emptiness mere illusion. Those who consider the numinous Dao-body as false or perceive eternal stillness as barren stagnation are mistaken.

The Dao-body itself has no fixed form or name, and the essence of cultivation lies in investigating the root. This principle applies not only to Daoism but equally to Buddhism and the practices of ancient sages. However, those of middling or shallow capacity struggle to grasp these profound truths fully, which is why sages provide practical guidance through daily conduct for people to follow.

The section on "cultivating virtue (de) to crystallize the Dao" explains: Dao practitioners must nurture moral character. The Dao represents the universal principle, while virtue manifests in countless forms. Like the four seasons each performing distinct functions (spring's birth, summer's growth, autumn's harvest, winter's storage), all operate within the Dao's cyclical patterns. Heaven and earth take nurturing all things as their fundamental intention, just as buddhas, bodhisattvas, and sages base themselves on compassion, desiring every ordinary person to find their proper place. Buddhism's mercy and Confucianism's commiseration share the same essence.

Concretely: The processes of growth and nurturance embody "propriety" (li, order), requiring attention to seasonal sequences. Buddhism's hierarchical stages of attainment, gradual versus sudden cultivation methods, and various dignified protocols all manifest "propriety." "Righteousness" (yi) appears as unyielding fortitude and self-sacrifice—equally seen in Buddhist and Daoist practitioners' endurance. The virtue of "wisdom" (zhi) manifests in concealing brilliance, as both Buddhist and Daoist wisdom run profoundly deep. The three teachings share identical fundamental principles, differing only in their forms of expression.

This scripture emphasizes that spiritual cultivation must begin with nurturing moral character, with "filial piety and fraternal duty" (xiao ti) serving as the fundamental foundation. The text introduces the "Four Virtues" (benevolence, righteousness, wisdom, and trustworthiness) as the basis for practice: showing compassion to help others (benevolence), adhering to ethical principles (righteousness), understanding the law of cause and effect (wisdom), and maintaining steadfast faith (trustworthiness). True compassion is not indulgence but selflessness akin to Heaven and Earth—grieving for others' suffering and rejoicing in their virtuous deeds.

Spiritual cultivation is divided into different levels: those with complete virtue become upright individuals in life and deities after death, while ordinary people who diligently practice can preserve their human form. Those who neglect virtue and commit evil deeds will fall into the Three Wretched Realms (hell, hungry ghosts, and animals) with little hope of liberation. Throughout history, no Buddha, bodhisattva, immortal, or sage has attained the Dao without cultivating virtue. Though virtues manifest in diverse forms, their underlying principle remains unified.

Chapter Nine specifically discusses the paramount importance of "filial piety and fraternal duty." Even sage-kings like Yao and Shun governed by first harmonizing human relationships. Filial devotion must extend beyond material support—it requires sincere reverence from the heart. Regardless of wealth or status, everyone should fulfill their duties as children according to their circumstances.

This passage elucidates the fundamental importance of filial piety through historical anecdotes and perspectives from Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism.

Young King Wen of Zhou would inquire after his father Ji's wellbeing three times daily—rejoicing at news of his health and worrying at any discomfort. Such innate filial devotion was specially recorded in the Book of Rites. Nowadays, people scarcely know how to diligently serve medicine when parents fall ill, let alone practice daily filial care. Confucius composed the Classic of Filial Piety to clarify filial duty as the supreme virtue, even reporting its completion to the Big Dipper (a key Daoist stellar deity) as instruction for posterity. Yet later scholars merely memorized without practicing, treating this transformative classic as ordinary text—a profound loss.

Filial piety isn't exclusively Confucian; Buddhist and Daoist traditions equally revere it. None achieved Buddhahood or immortality while neglecting parents, nor do genuine practitioners disregard filial duties. Common misconceptions equate monastic life with abandoning family ties and ancestral rites, unaware that perfected adepts can elevate nine generations of ancestors (Daoism teaches that cultivation merits bless progenitors)—benefits extending far beyond immediate parents. Ancient sages considered guiding parents toward virtue the highest filial act. Confucius praised Emperor Shun's filiality foremost for his sagehood—only when children embody sagely virtue can parents be honored as "Sage-Father and Sage-Mother," the ultimate filial expression.

Some today, relying on talent or wealth, treat parents arrogantly, forgetting these blessings stem from ancestral virtue (De). Disdaining the source while enjoying its fruits—how can such unfilial crimes be excused? Since antiquity, the purest filial devotion intuitively addresses parents' unspoken needs. Such sincerity moves heaven and earth (Daoism holds that supreme filial piety connects with divine realms), making ritual incense ascend to celestial courts.

For monastic practitioners (Buddhist monks and Daoist priests), deeper reflection is needed: since neither personal care nor daily support is possible, resolute cultivation toward realization becomes the highest parental repayment. The same principle applies to teachers—disrespecting mentors severs roots like a tree, preventing blossoming. Filial piety and teacher reverence form the very foundation of spiritual practice.

This scripture primarily discusses two fundamental ethical relationships: filial piety and fraternal devotion, as well as loyalty to one's sovereign.

First, it emphasizes treating parents with the same reverence and obedience as one would a teacher, for our very bodies and lives are gifts from our parents, and the continuation of family lineage must never be taken lightly. Even in poverty, one should serve parents wholeheartedly with simple fare; in wealth, one must offer delicacies with sincere devotion. The essence lies in genuine reverence from the heart, not in material abundance or scarcity. Scholars who know only books but not filial duty—who neglect their parents in life yet hold extravagant funerals after death—merely engage in hypocrisy, which cannot be considered true filial piety.

Between siblings who share the same bloodline, the ancients compared them to limbs of one body. Just as parental love makes no distinction between children's merits or shortcomings, wealth or poverty, brothers should cherish one another. The scripture cites two historical examples: the exemplary story of Jiang Gong and his brothers of the Eastern Han dynasty sharing a single quilt, and Cao Zhi's lament "burning beanstalks to cook beans"—illustrating the vital importance of fraternal harmony. Even among monastic practitioners, elders should be humble while juniors remain respectful, allowing mutual benefit in spiritual cultivation. Arrogance that harms fellow disciples betrays both the gift of parental nurture and the virtue of the master's teachings.

Chapter Ten discusses loyalty to the sovereign. Though humans receive the essence of the Five Phases at birth, without parents we cannot be born, and without rulers we cannot achieve our purpose. Filial piety arises from natural kinship, while loyalty to the sovereign stems from moral duty—both are essential. As subjects, we must recognize that our sustenance and position come from the sovereign's grace, and thus we should serve diligently. Many understand parental nurturing, yet few maintain steadfast loyalty to their rulers.

This scripture primarily discusses the principles of governance and official conduct, emphasizing that regardless of one's position, one must fulfill duties with loyalty and compassion for the people.

For those in high office, their responsibility is twofold: upward, they must assist the ruler in correcting faults and fulfill their advisory role; downward, they should recommend virtuous and capable individuals without harboring jealousy. Officials in charge of justice must enforce the law impartially while showing leniency and empathy toward the people. Those responsible for moral instruction should strive to transform customs and guide the people toward goodness. All officials must be diligent and devoted, each fulfilling their duties to the best of their ability.

A stern warning is given to the treacherous and deceitful—those who exploit the ruler’s authority for personal gain, flattering and currying favor for fleeting wealth. Such individuals will ultimately face public condemnation, ruin, and swift calamity, leaving them no room for regret.

Officials tasked with oversight must scrutinize governance with clarity and meticulous care, while those responsible for remonstrance must speak boldly to rectify court discipline. When the ruler performs virtuous deeds, they should be amplified; when faults arise, they must be corrected without delay. It is better to be an upright and loyal minister than a sycophant who seeks favor through flattery.

Local officials must lead by example—they must not oppress subordinates, act arrogantly to the detriment of affairs, or forsake the Dao (the Way) for personal fame. Generals guarding the borders must defend the land and stabilize the state. Regardless of rank, all must devote themselves wholeheartedly to their responsibilities, never belittling the people’s affairs, disregarding their lives, pandering to superiors, or indulging in greed and corruption at the people’s expense.

Since ancient times, loyal and righteous ministers have sacrificed themselves for virtue, fearless in the face of danger. Their integrity shines as brightly as the sun and moon, their righteous Qi (vital energy) filling heaven and earth. Their names are recorded in history, and they are eternally honored in remembrance. Even ordinary people, though not holding official titles, benefit from the state’s governance—its establishment of offices, laws, and policies that ensure their peace and livelihood—all of which stem from the ruler’s grace. Moreover, when the state reduces burdensome taxes, relieves famine, upholds rites of respect for the elderly, and honors the virtuous and filial, how can such benevolence not be met with gratitude? The state has its rightful taxes, and the people should fulfill their obligations in due time.

When a nation undertakes a great enterprise, people rush to take part. This, too, is a sign of loyalty. Loyalty and filial piety are among the most fundamental principles between Heaven and Earth. Practitioners may endure countless trials and years of hard cultivation before attaining the Dao and realizing the Real, yet those who are especially loyal and filial can ascend to Heaven as soon as life ends. They may even attain a high rank in the Land of Ultimate Bliss. The loyal and filial are honored by the court, recorded in history, protected by Heaven, and respected by spirits and gods.

Look at those who are disloyal and unfilial: they suffer punishment while alive, are tormented by ghosts after death, are reviled by people for all time, and sink into the evil paths. In truth, epidemics, warfare, natural disasters, and famine are calamities brought on by disloyalty and lack of filial piety. You practitioners, if you resolve to cultivate the Dao but fail to follow the way of loyalty and filial piety, it is utterly impossible to imagine that you will realize the Real and attain the Dao.

After the Heavenly Worthy had finished speaking these ten chapters, the assembled immortals and perfected beings rejoiced. In unison, they praised him and chanted:

O supreme Heavenly Worthy, you extend your compassion far and wide to deliver all from calamity. You proclaim wondrous teachings and reveal profound truths. The Great Dao of the Taiji, the mysteries of the Three Vehicles: every sentence is lucid and penetrating, every word profound to the utmost. The Great Dao is plain and ordinary, yet first one must purify the roots of karmic hindrances. Reverence for Heaven brings communion with the spirits; to practice human relationships, one must keep one’s feet firmly on the ground. Good deeds bring ascent to Heaven and the enjoyment of blessings; evil deeds lead inevitably to sinking into ruin. The principles of human relationships accord with the patterns of all things, as recorded in the Five Classics and the Three Ancient Writings. Through direct realization and insight, one can transcend the ordinary and become a sage. All living beings possess Buddha-nature, and their original nature is inherently luminous. May we board the great Dharma vessel and prove worthy of the sages’ compassionate hearts. The wondrous words of our teacher deserve reverent obedience for millions upon millions of years.

When the immortals and perfected beings had finished their chant, they went before the Heavenly Worthy’s seat, bowed, and offered their thanks. The Dharma-protecting generals also leapt with joy, marveling that they had never witnessed anything like this. Just then, dragons flew and cranes danced through the sky; clouds and rosy mists shimmered in brilliant colors. Jeweled banners and crimson staffs led the way, and the assembly returned to the supreme sacred realm. The disciples each bowed in reverence, sincerely received the teachings, and put them into practice.

The opening hymn of the middle scroll says: The compassionate vessel ferries all beings across and guides those who have lost their way. The essential instructions of the Mysterious Pass point straight to the source, without fragmented or piecemeal explanations. In cultivation, grasp the root; in contemplating the Dharma-body of Suchness, do not hesitate.

The wondrous verse that opens the scripture reveals: In cultivating the Dao, grasp its essential teachings, set aside the tangled details, and directly realize the true Suchness of one’s original nature. Do not delay or neglect the work of study and cultivation.

At that time, the Celestial Worthy (the supreme deity of Daoism), having respectfully received the Jade Emperor's decree, concluded his exposition of the ten profound scriptural chapters and returned to the celestial court to report his mission. Yet he descended once more to the Dharma assembly. Immortal sages arrived in great numbers—some astride azure horned dragons, others riding divine cranes—accompanied by celestial retinues as they traversed the void. Precious blossoms rained from the heavens, divine music resounded in harmony, auspicious clouds swirled, and numinous qi (vital energy) permeated the air. As the Celestial Worthy remained seated in tranquility, all the celestial officials eagerly awaited his sacred teachings.

Then a Left Attendant Immortal (an attendant celestial official) stepped forth and addressed the assembly: "In days past, when the Celestial Worthy expounded scriptures at Huashi City, his teachings were lucid and thorough. Yet to this day, none have studied or recited them, nor practiced accordingly. In this humble disciple's view, such propagation appears ineffective."

The Celestial Worthy sighed deeply and responded: "How can you say so! Recall how the Supreme Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun) at Jingshi Mountain jointly elucidated with the Five Ancient Celestial Sovereigns over a million texts concerning the cosmic yin-yang and the Nine Numinous Arts of longevity. When he descended to Shu capital to expound the profound Dao, the jade registers he compiled endure to this day without fading. The Buddha Shakyamuni delivered teachings filling three baskets of scriptures (sutras, vinaya, and abhidharma), with doctrines divided into three vehicles (shravaka, pratyekabuddha, and bodhisattva), each with distinct lineages. How can we expect universal practice from all?"

"The Supreme Lord Lao once said: 'My words are exceedingly easy to understand, exceedingly easy to practice—yet none in the world understand or practice them.' The responsibility of teaching lies with me, while listening lies with others. Should we alter our compassionate vow to deliver sentient beings merely because some disbelieve? Moreover, virtues like loyalty, filial piety, and fraternal duty are innate to human nature's moral fabric. Yet as worldly customs decline, people's character decays—unable to embrace the Dao—bringing frequent calamities, plagues, and famines."

"My present scriptural expositions aim to assist the kingly Dao's civilizing influence, reverse kalpic misfortunes, deliver beings, and guide humanity toward awakening—that all may truly practice. Heaven's benevolence desires nothing but people's return to simple purity. If everyone turned toward goodness, every household cultivated humaneness and reverence, filling the world with unadorned virtue, would this not constitute the Great Peace?"

"The various scriptures I've previously expounded have thoroughly revealed their profound essentials. Observe this vast cosmos—how could we possibly expect the wise and foolish, noble and base alike to all pursue immortality and cultivate the Dao?"

(This scriptural passage, through dialogue between the Celestial Worthy and an immortal official, elucidates Daoism's fundamental purpose in transmitting teachings: not universal transcendence, but encouraging goodness to restore humanity's original simplicity, thereby transforming social customs and establishing harmonious society. It simultaneously acknowledges that receptivity varies according to individual capacity, yet this should never动摇 the resolve to deliver beings.)

People all study the Buddhist teachings, and thus the Great Compassionate Guanyin, in the Universal Gate Chapter, expounds the Dharma through thirty-two manifestations according to the capacities of sentient beings. If there are sincere cultivators who genuinely seek the Dao, I will naturally offer guidance to help them break free from worldly attachments and attain the fruition of immortality. Hearing these words, all the immortals and divine beings rejoiced and praised, quietly awaiting the Celestial Venerable's further teachings.

In the twelfth chapter on the careful selection of teachers and companions, the Celestial Venerable addressed the assembled perfected beings from his jade throne: "In human life, apart from the sovereign and one’s parents, the most revered is the path of the teacher. Though loyalty to the ruler and filial piety to parents are inherent duties, the distinction between right and wrong, truth and falsehood, is extremely subtle. The slightest deviation can lead one astray by a thousand miles. Therefore, one must rely on enlightened teachers to clarify principles and engage in discussion and refinement—only then can one act without error, embodying true loyalty and filial piety, and avoid misleading one’s ruler or parents."

The ancients, in cultivating virtue and delving into learning, always sought out enlightened teachers as aids on the path. Yet teachers differ: some are widely learned, others are of exceptional virtue, some possess lofty reputations, and still others are transcendent beings beyond the mundane world. For example, the Yellow Emperor studied under Guangchengzi, Emperor Yao learned from Yinshou, Emperor Shun was taught by Wuchengzi, King Wen of Zhou sought guidance from Yuxiong, Laozi (the Supreme Venerable) once studied under Rongchengzi, and even Confucius consulted Lao Dan on ritual. Laozi said: "I was not born a sage—I came to understand the Dao through learning." Since ancient times, no sage, Buddha, or immortal has attained enlightenment without studying under a teacher. The Book of Documents states: "Those who find enlightened teachers can achieve great deeds, while those who are self-opinionated will ultimately fail." Humility in seeking guidance leads to progress, while obstinacy confines one to limitations. If even emperors acted this way, how much more should ordinary people?

Laozi said: "Those who cling to their own views cannot see clearly; those who are self-righteous find it hard to shine." People often become complacent with minor achievements, unable to humbly accept others’ insights. One must understand that no one is born omniscient—all require a teacher’s transmission. Though the teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism differ, their reverence for teachers and the Dao is the same. Take our Daoist practice: without receiving the oral transmission of true secrets from a genuine teacher, even if one memorizes alchemical scriptures, it is impossible to grasp the actual methods of cultivation. Even with diligent effort, success remains unattainable. Buddhism also regards associating with virtuous mentors (enlightened teachers) as essential to the bodhisattva path—just as Zen Master Zhaozhou, at eighty years old, still wandered seeking instruction because he had yet to realize his true nature and needed a genuine teacher’s guidance. As for the role of friends, the Book of Changes says friends should nourish one another like two connected lakes, with noble persons deepening their learning through discussion. The Book of Songs also states that stones from other mountains can polish jade—a metaphor for how friends help refine and perfect one another.

When ancient practitioners encountered unclear principles or ambiguous meanings, they would invariably first consult their teachers, then discuss with fellow practitioners, ensuring that all doubts melted away like snow in spring, allowing their cultivation to flow naturally. Consider Yan Hui, the most brilliant disciple of Confucius, who could infer ten things from hearing one—despite his extraordinary innate talent, he still humbly sought guidance from those less knowledgeable than himself. This was because he truly understood that the Dao is boundless and learning has no end, which is why he maintained such sincere humility in seeking wisdom.

Yet foolish and arrogant people of later generations often become complacent and conceited, refusing to accept good advice with an open mind. Even when virtuous elders stand before them, they disdain to ask for guidance—how much less do they treat their peers with respect? As a result, upright friends gradually drift away, while deceitful companions grow closer, ultimately leading them astray under the influence of misguided teachers and harmful friends—a truly lamentable outcome. Take my own case: had it not been for the heart-method transmitted to me by Zhengyang Zhenren (Zhongli Quan, one of the Eight Immortals), how could I have transcended the ordinary and attained the state of a true immortal? Practitioners should understand this clearly: those who wish to cultivate the Dao and attain sagehood but refuse to seek enlightened teachers and virtuous friends for mutual refinement are like charioteers heading south while aiming for the north—they will only stray further from the Dao.

(Chapter 13: On the Importance of Cultivating the Source)

Only after Heaven and Earth took form did the myriad things come into being; only after man and woman united did the relationship of husband and wife emerge, followed by the bonds of father and son, ruler and subject. Thus, the marital relationship stands as the foundation of human ethics, the source of creation, and the beginning of human society. When Heaven and Earth are in harmony, the Qi of Yin and Yang intermingles, and the myriad beings flourish naturally—winds and rains come seasonally, and all things prosper. Similarly, when husband and wife are in harmony—the man attending to external affairs, the woman managing domestic matters, each complementing the other—the household is well-ordered, and descendants multiply abundantly. Is this not of utmost importance?

The Way of husband and wife carries profound significance: in its broadest sense, it affects the rise and fall of nations; in its narrower sense, it determines order or chaos within families. Historical records show: Emperor Shun's marriage to Ehuang and Nüying ushered in a golden age; the Xia dynasty originated from Yu the Great's union with the Tushan clan; the prosperity of the Shang and Zhou dynasties stemmed from the shared virtue of kings and queens. Conversely, the chaos in the state of Wei began with marital discord. Since the separation of Heaven and Earth, the Way of husband and wife has existed. Yet though human society begins with this union, without the tempering influence of ritual and righteousness, it descends into licentiousness; if restrained improperly, it becomes estranged. Thus, within the inner chambers, relationships either grow excessively intimate and undisciplined or cold and distant—rarely achieving perfect balance. The ancients, concerned about excessive familiarity between spouses, admonished couples to "treat each other with the respect due to guests"; fearing estrangement, they used the metaphor of "harmonious zither and lute" to describe ideal marital harmony.

This scripture primarily elucidates the fundamental importance of Yin-Yang and the Dao of marital union in cosmic operation and human ethics. It begins by noting how the Yijing (Book of Changes) opens with Qian (Heaven, Yang) and Kun (Earth, Yin) - their harmonious interaction mirroring the complementary roles of husband and wife. Just as Qian initiates all creation and Kun nurtures life, the masculine principle governs the household with vigor while the feminine assists with gentle compliance, thereby ensuring domestic harmony and prosperous descendants.

The text observes that a couple may produce a single child (unified form) or multiple offspring (dispersed forms), with this dynamic of separation and union embodying the ceaseless generative mystery of Heaven and Earth. In Daoist cultivation (Neidan), the ascent and descent of lead and mercury (symbolizing Jing-essence and Qi-vital energy) and the balancing of water and fire operate similarly to the conjugal union of Yin-Yang, ultimately coalescing into the "sacred embryo" (a technical term denoting alchemical attainment). While Buddhist practice emphasizes transcending form and emptiness, it too acknowledges "Dharma joy" (spiritual bliss from practice) as an inner companion - demonstrating how all spiritual paths require both internal and external harmonization to bear fruit.

Classics like the Shijing (Book of Odes) and Shangshu (Book of Documents) emphasize marital rites precisely because the husband-wife relationship is no trivial matter. When couples dwell in mutual respect - encouraging each other's virtue like the harmonious tones of qin and se zithers - they foster fraternal accord and filial contentment. Conversely, marital discord breeds domestic strife that corrupts descendants' character. The text particularly condemns those obsessed with conjugal intimacy while neglecting parental devotion, branding such behavior as heaven-defying conduct that invites divine censure.

(Note: "Lead and mercury" and "sacred embryo" are Neidan terms representing bodily essences and alchemical achievements respectively; "Dharma joy" denotes meditative bliss; "qin and se" and "lifting the tray" allude to classical metaphors for marital harmony; "valley wind" and "loosened spokes" reference poetic tropes for conjugal discord.)

The ancient establishment of schools (xiangxu) was meant to teach human relationships and moral principles, which are inherently present in human nature—neither extraordinary nor difficult to practice. Yet people often dismiss them as mundane matters, failing to apply them earnestly, unaware that the sages and worthies attained their supreme states precisely through sincere adherence to these principles. We Daoists also say: To cultivate the Dao of immortality, one must first cultivate the Dao of humanity. If one cannot even fulfill human virtues, the path to transcendence remains distant.

Though moral principles are inherent human duties, neglecting to cherish Jing (essence), nurture Qi (vital energy), and stabilize the Shen (spirit) to fortify the body will prevent one from dispelling illness and prolonging life—this is not the way of nurturing vitality. The Supreme Elder Lord (Taishang Laojun) said: "Block the openings of desire (Dui), shut the gates of temptation, and you will never toil in life; but open the doors of craving and busy yourself with worldly affairs, and your life will be hard to redeem." Therefore, one must be especially mindful of daily rhythms and restrain indulgent desires.

Particular caution is needed during these times: extreme cold or heat, thunderstorms and fierce winds, heavy rain and gloomy skies; the days before the first quarter moon, after the last quarter moon, and the transitions between lunar months (huishuo); as well as during abnormal seasonal shifts—all these should be avoided to protect the body. Do not indulge in lust and deplete Jing, do not vent anger and waste Qi, and do not overindulge in wine to harm the Shen. Mencius said that preserving the body is fundamental, for human life relies on the Three Treasures: Jing, Qi, and Shen. Qi and Jing are like water and fire, also called lead and mercury (alchemical terms). The fiery nature is volatile and must be restrained from excess, while the watery nature flows and must be prevented from leaking. The alchemical scriptures state: "Following desires makes one an ordinary person; reversing the process makes one an immortal." Water naturally flows downward, but in cultivation, it must be made to ascend against its nature; fire naturally rises, yet it must be brought downward. This ascending and descending is the inversion of Yin-Yang, achieving the state of "water and fire in harmony" (a cultivation term for balanced Yin-Yang). However, this is not forced—it must be attained through natural tranquility and non-action (Wuwei).

The immortal master Guangchengzi said: "One must maintain stillness and purity, avoid exhausting the body, and refrain from disturbing the Qi—only then can one attain longevity." Guard the inner and seal the outer, for excessive pursuit of knowledge brings harm. When inner visions do not leak outward, the Shen will not scatter; when external evils do not invade, the spirit remains whole and stable. With the entire body harmonized, one naturally nurtures life and extends years.

The Supreme Elder Lord said: "Preserve simplicity and reduce selfish desires—no principle of life-nurturing is more essential than this." As for the pursuit of broad knowledge, though different from external temptations, it still scatters the mind and depletes the Shen. Moreover, craving knowledge distracts from focused cultivation—the more one knows, the further one strays from the Dao. Thus, Confucius did not praise extensive learning but instead warned against blindly following others.

The Sūtra of Mind Contemplation states: The true Dao (the Way) cannot be attained through seeing with the eyes, hearing with the ears, or perceiving with the body. If one clings to these sensory experiences, they are not truly seeking the Dao. Therefore, those skilled in nurturing life do not allow their inner thoughts to leak out through the six roots (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind), nor are they externally deluded by the myriad things, maintaining instead a state of clarity and stillness. Worries, fears, afflictions, and delusions do not trouble their hearts, as they focus solely on guarding the true essence (innate Jing-Qi) within, ever cautious of its dissipation.

The human body is like a tree—if its interior is rotten and hollow, it will snap at the first strong wind. Those unskilled in nurturing life fear the cold and heat when the weather changes, unable to raise the water Qi upward or lower the fire Qi downward. Thus, they cannot withstand the extremes of temperature nor harmonize Yin-Yang. How, then, can one neglect the profound study of life-nurturing methods? To nurture life, one must cultivate in reverse—raising water Qi and lowering fire Qi, just as medicinal herbs flourish on mountaintops while the sun glows red in the ocean depths. The Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Scripture) says: "By internally preserving the true essence and maintaining a mind of emptiness and tranquility, one naturally attracts the divine Shen (spirit). Firmly guard the chamber of essence (lower Dantian), never carelessly letting it leak—seal and nourish it to attain longevity." These words are profoundly true! If a person carefully guards their body while living in the world, diseases can be eliminated, lifespan extended, and immortality may become attainable.

Chapter Fifteen speaks on the importance of cultivating virtuous deeds: A person living in this world, understanding how to guard the true essence internally to nurture the body, is like a sturdy tree containing vital essence, its roots firm and deep. Yet profound inner cultivation alone is insufficient—just as a tree needs lush branches and leaves to absorb the nourishment of rain and dew, so too does the human body. Even if one knows to guard the internal Jing-Qi, without diligent accumulation of virtuous deeds, it is like a tree without foliage—alive, yet not flourishing. How, then, can one receive the nourishment of heaven? Ancient texts say: "Cultivating De (Virtue/Power) is like planting a tree—one must not only sow but also tend it with care."

Virtue manifests in many forms, but aiding others and benefiting all beings is paramount. If a person is habitually helpful, thinking of assistance when others face hardship, or seeking ways to rescue those in distress—doing all within their power, and striving even when their ability falls short—this is true virtue. When seeing others confused by principles or obstructed in affairs, guide them with gentle words. Encourage good deeds and dissuade harmful ones. At all times, consider others' needs; in all places, make things easier for them. The Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Laozi) said: "The wealthy aid others with material gifts; the benevolent aid with words." Giving wealth is indeed a form of relief, but imparting wisdom is Dharma-giving (teaching through the Dharma).

This scripture explains that everyone can elevate themselves through accumulating virtue (De) by doing good deeds, yet people often fail due to selfishness and stubbornness. As stated in Ximing, one should regard all people as siblings and all things as companions. If one truly comprehends the state of universal interconnectedness, there is no good deed beyond their capability and no virtue beyond their cultivation.

The Book of Changes (Yijing) teaches that noble persons should align with virtue, accumulating small deeds to achieve great merits. The ancient sages embraced a mindset as vast as heaven and earth—ensuring the elderly live in comfort and children receive care. Buddhas and immortals view all beings with the tenderness one shows an infant, just as Buddhism teaches that all sentient beings share the same fundamental nature. If humans can emulate the compassion of sages, Buddhas, and immortals in doing good, even if they don’t reach their level, such virtuous intent already forms the foundation for attaining sagehood.

Regarding nurturing good intentions and performing virtuous acts, ordinary people inevitably make mistakes—what matters is recognizing and correcting them. The Book of Changes states that timely correction prevents deep regret, and amending one fault is equivalent to gaining one measure of virtue. Like grass in a spring garden, though its daily growth is imperceptible, it steadily rises. Virtuous conduct is human nature’s essence; the key lies in diligent practice without seeking fame or reward.

The Daodejing says the highest virtue (De) is as humble as a valley, while the broadest virtue always feels insufficient. One should uphold sincerity and substance over superficiality. The Book of Changes describes noble persons as bearing all things through profound virtue. Ancient sages sought self-cultivation while helping others do the same, attaining wisdom while guiding others toward it. Buddhas and immortals liberate themselves while liberating others. Some criticize Daoist teachings as resembling Yang Zhu’s "egoist" philosophy, but this is a misunderstanding. Daoism advocates universal salvation—it’s just that those without faith cannot receive its grace.

For Daoist practitioners, accumulating virtue comes first. Internal alchemy (Neidan) texts warn that without accumulating virtue and merits, cultivation will encounter demonic obstructions. Those who do good inevitably receive heaven’s protection and divine guardianship. If virtuous acts seem unrewarded, the virtuous intent may lack purity. Sincere practitioners never fail to receive blessings, and persistent good deeds extend blessings to descendants, as the Book of Songs says: "Receive heaven’s hundred blessings, bestowing lasting auspiciousness." If one can internally nurture true essence (Jing) while externally cultivating good deeds, ultimately...

This passage primarily expounds on Confucian principles of self-cultivation and scholarly pursuit, emphasizing the importance of wholehearted dedication to Confucian learning without distraction.

The text first establishes that it is impossible for one who practices diligently without slackening to fail attaining the "Dao" (here referring to the Confucian way of sages). It then elaborates on how to become a true Confucian scholar:

One must concentrate on studying Confucian classics without diverting attention to other schools of thought. Internally, one should cultivate mind and body; externally, one must emphasize moral conduct. The fundamental approach involves investigating the origins of "cosmological and human nature" (the fundamental principles of universe and humanity) and deeply examining the profound meaning of benevolence, righteousness and virtue. One must constantly guard against wayward thoughts while nurturing a refined "dao-mind" (the pure original mind aligned with cosmic principles), eliminating improper notions while maintaining reverent sincerity.

Specific practices include: demanding loyalty from oneself while practicing forbearance toward others. In moral cultivation, one should emulate the motto of King Tang of Shang to "renew oneself daily"; in scholarship, one should follow the Book of Documents' admonition to remain humble and diligent. Maintain modesty by earnestly accepting others' opinions. Since learning has no limits, one must never become arrogant about one's talents; engage in constant self-reflection without glossing over faults.

Emulate ancient sages: like Yan Hui who "possessed yet seemed lacking, was substantial yet appeared empty"; like Zigong who neither flattered in poverty nor grew arrogant in wealth. Delve deeply into the Six Classics (Book of Songs, Book of Documents, Book of Rites, Book of Music, Book of Changes, Spring and Autumn Annals) and Four Books (Great Learning, Doctrine of the Mean, Analects, Mencius). When reading sages' works, comprehend their minds, practice their teachings, and become like them. Take Yi Yin, Yao and Shun as models, and aspire like Mencius who followed Confucius.

The Chinese character for "Confucian" (儒) combines "person" (人) with "need" (需), signifying how Confucian scholars inherit the orthodox tradition from ancient sages while enlightening future generations, bearing the weighty responsibility of continuing the past and opening the future. Additionally, historical works can broaden knowledge but require discernment: Yang Xiong's writings are overly abstruse, while Xunzi's "theory of evil human nature" deviates from fundamentals, though their statecraft still contains merit. Six Dynasties historical records often contradict the sages' way, yet they reveal patterns of order and chaos. As for ornate rhetoric and trivial writings, they deserve no expenditure of energy.

The study of cultivating body and mind should never be reduced to mere entertainment that dissipates one's aspirations—this was sternly warned against by ancient sages. A true Confucian scholar is not merely one who wears the Confucian cap and robe, appearing as such outwardly, but must genuinely embody Confucian virtues and establish the demeanor of a true scholar. One should strive to become an authentic Confucian, not a hypocritical one; an enlightened Confucian, not a rigid one; a magnanimous Confucian, not a narrow-minded one. It is better to steadfastly uphold principles and defend the path of the sages than to drift with the current and become a morally corrupt conformist.

Purify the heart, cultivate inward refinement, and aspire to the realm of the sages. Preserve heavenly principles, restrain selfish desires, and attain the state of fulfilling one's nature and understanding destiny. When successful, practice righteousness without arrogance even amid wealth and honor; when thwarted, remain true to oneself without wavering even in reclusion among mountains and forests. This is the true capability of a Confucian scholar and the precious quality of a noble scholar's character.

Though Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism differ in form, their fundamental principles are one. What is this "one"? It is the original mind. Laozi (the Supreme Venerable Sovereign) taught not to dwell in discrimination or attachment; Mencius said the Dao of Heaven is singular, and the principles followed by ancient and later sages are the same. Yet worldly Confucians cling to textual interpretations without probing the root, vainly fixating on names and distinctions. They fail to realize that observing the natural state before the arising of emotions like joy and anger is no different from the Buddhist and Daoist practices of contemplating the original face.

Moreover, Confucius, the eternal patriarch of Confucianism, has now attained the status of a Celestial Emperor (Tian Di) and is revered in Buddhism as well. Yan Hui, Zengzi, and the other four sages enshrined in Confucian temples hold exalted celestial ranks in the heavenly realm, and the three thousand disciples are forever freed from the cycles of suffering. Does this not prove that being a true Confucian is the very cause for becoming a Buddha or immortal, and that true Confucians are deeply acknowledged by both Buddhists and Daoist immortals? If there are genuine Confucians in this world, I would openly guide them—why distinguish between Confucianism, Daoism, or Buddhism?

Chapter 17 of The Secret Chapter on the Mysterious Pass states: If one grows weary of worldly entanglements, yearns for the profound Dao, resolves to seek liberation, and wishes to understand the methods of longevity and the practice of returning to the origin, one must first recognize the "Mysterious Pass (Xuan Guan), the One Aperture." Only then can there be a direct and genuine path of practice, avoiding deviation into heterodox methods. Yet this Mysterious Pass is concealed within emptiness—subtle and unfathomable. It is neither the heart nor the kidneys, nor any specific location like the mouth or nose. Some point to the Muddy Pellet Palace (Niwan Gong) at the crown of the head, others to the space within the navel, and still others to the area between the two kidneys—all these are mistaken. Without guidance from an enlightened teacher, how could one possibly know? The alchemical scriptures say: Even if you were as wise as Yan Hui or Min Ziqian, do not speculate recklessly without encountering a true master. For this Mysterious Pass is the true gateway of Qi (vital energy), hence its name "Mysterious Pass," also called...

Practitioners of Neidan (internal alchemy) must master the "Mysterious Pass" (Xuanguan), the secret gateway connecting the human body with cosmic energies. Laozi taught that the space between heaven and earth functions like a bellows—appearing empty yet endlessly generative, producing more vitality the more it moves. This describes the natural rhythm of true respiration (innate breathing) within the body, cycling like day and night through 365 degrees of celestial revolution.

The ancients called this Mysterious Pass the "Gate of the Mysterious Feminine" (Xuanpin), where yin and yang converge. The Heart Seal Scripture (Xinyin Jing) identifies it as the space where "the profound emerges and returns to the feminine." Here, true Qi circulates ceaselessly, mirroring the Book of Changes (Yijing) principle: opening manifests as Qian (heavenly yang), closing as Kun (earthly yin). This rhythmic alternation drives transformation, while its perpetual flow ensures unimpeded circulation. The exhale links to heaven's root (yang), the inhale to earth's root (yin)—all pivoting around this pivotal aperture.

Neither purely physical nor entirely spiritual, this cavity resides at the body's center where Metal (lung Qi) and Wood (liver Qi) harmonize—a meeting place for the "infant" and "maiden" (symbolizing yin-yang energies). Transcending the Five Phases, it anchors the "furnace and cauldron" (the foundation of alchemical practice). Deliberate seeking obscures it; only through serene non-attachment, dwelling between existence and non-existence, can one perceive it. Once opened, practitioners feel Qi flowing, gradually transmuting the mortal body into golden nectar (refined essence), advancing the foundational work of self-cultivation.

Yet the Golden Elixir path—the supreme method—comes effortlessly to those of superior capacity, while others progress step-by-step. Regardless of innate gifts, sincere and persistent practice leads to transcendence. Even maintaining purity through scripture recitation in temples fulfills the Daoist path.

Those who merely don the robes and headgear of Daoist priests (yellow caps and feathered garments) yet remain ignorant of the fundamental Dao have no understanding of the essential method to transcend life and death. When the impermanence of life swiftly arrives before the Judgment Hall (the underworld tribunal) and the Wheel of Rebirth (the cycle of transmigration), mere outward appearances as a Daoist will not exempt one from retribution. Once this human form is lost, it cannot be regained even after ten thousand kalpas. Ordinary people, due to their ignorance, fail to comprehend the true meaning of the Great Dao, lose their innate human nature, and even blame their lack of understanding of cultivation practices.

Since you have already entered the Daoist path, if you cannot concentrate on upward progress and diligently practice, spending your days in idleness and sloth while belittling this physical form, you are belittling the Great Dao itself. To sink into endless kalpas and forever lose this human form—is this not sorrowful? Is this not heartbreaking? All sentient beings should awaken—this human body is truly difficult to attain!

Chapter Eighteen discusses the "fire times" (huohou) and "medicinal substances" (neidan terminology). Since cultivators have understood the Mysterious Pass (a crucial point in cultivation), they must also comprehend the nature of these medicinal substances. The origin of these substances lies in the theory of lead and mercury (symbolizing the body's essence and vital energy in internal alchemy). Lead originates from the West, corresponding to the Dui trigram representing Metal, which is the source of Water. Mercury originates from the East, corresponding to the Zhen trigram representing Wood, which is the source of Fire. Using Metal to draw forth Water and Wood to draw forth Fire gives rise to the Kan and Li trigrams (symbolizing Water and Fire). Thus, Laozi said: "Know the mother (the origin), and you will know the child (the manifestation); obtain the child, yet hold fast to the mother." This is the principle of understanding the root.

The "gathering of medicinal substances" (refining the body's essence and energy) does not involve any concrete act of "gathering" but relies on the "fire" (conscious intent) as the means of gathering. The alchemical scriptures state: "When lead encounters the Water of Gui (kidney essence) and begins to form, it must be swiftly gathered; yet when the Metal energy is flourishing, it should not be tasted." There is a precise timing for refining these substances, and the fire times must be carefully controlled. However, the fire is not uniform—there are gentle fire (wenhuo) and fierce fire (wuhuo), sequences of urgency and relaxation, and specific orders of practice. The alchemical texts say: "Those who attain the Dao transmit the medicinal substances but not the fire times; since ancient times, few have truly understood the fire times." It is not that they do not understand, but because the fire times arise from the movement of a single Qi within the mind. During the Zi and Wu hours (critical times for cultivation), adjustments must be made—if the fire is too strong, reduce it; if too weak, increase it. This process of addition and subtraction is subtle and formless, unlike the tangible nature of firewood and charcoal.

Now, for the sake of the world, I shall clarify these medicinal substances. Though they go by various names—Yellow Sprouts and White Snow, Dragon and Tiger (all neidan terminology)—they can ultimately be summarized as "mercury and lead." Yet even these are but symbolic names, for their true essence is simply "Water and Fire." The symbolism of Water and Fire derives from the Kan and Li trigrams: the heart resides in the South as the Li trigram (Fire), containing the Original Spirit (primal consciousness); the kidneys reside in the North as the Kan trigram (Water), containing the Original Qi (primal energy). True Qi is transformed from True Essence, and True Essence is fused from True Qi—this genuine energy is the medicinal substance, to be refined by the True Fire of the Original Spirit.

In the practice of Neidan (internal alchemy), controlling primordial Qi is like refining medicine in a furnace and cauldron. This "furnace and cauldron" is actually a metaphor referring to the mysterious, seemingly existent yet non-existent cavity within the body's key acupoints for cultivation. Though formless, it truly exists in this intangible state. It is precisely within this ambiguous condition that the elixir is refined by regulating the ascent and descent of the body's water-fire (Yin-Yang) energies.

The Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Laozi) said: Nourishing that formless essence enables longevity, while preserving that immaterial true nature maintains purity. By sustaining this state of purity, one achieves enduring vision (longevity). This is the essential principle of mastering "fire timing" (the mindful regulation during practice). The specific method involves: guiding Qi with Shen (spirit), mobilizing Jing (essence) with Qi, maintaining bodily and mental tranquility, operating in accordance with natural flow, and ultimately arriving at a state of empty stillness and Wuwei (non-action). During breath regulation, each breath should return to its root—neither forcibly pursued nor artificially manipulated.

The entire cultivation process employs reverse practice: turning the Shen inward to condense Jing and Qi. This unfolds in three stages: transforming Jing into Qi, Qi into Shen, and Shen returning to emptiness. Upon reaching the realm of empty spontaneity, the sacred embryo (inner elixir) takes form, after which it is gently nurtured. Before the embryo matures, "martial fire" (intense focus) is used to expel Yin energies; once Yin is fully dispersed, revealing the pure Yang body, "civil fire" (subtle awareness) is employed to warm and preserve it, allowing it to stabilize at the center. Martial fire resembles waging war, while the perfected embryo is like achieving universal peace—only civil refinement is needed thereafter.

The Supreme Venerable Sovereign said: Weapons are ominous tools, used only when unavoidable. Thus, at this stage of practice, one should abide in serene detachment, strictly avoiding forced acceleration. Persistent dedication leads to natural mastery, like an infant growing effortlessly—when the time comes, the practitioner sheds their mortal frame, attaining the realm of carefree liberation. Though physically confined to a room, the spirit roams the four seas; though dwelling in the mundane world, one ascends the nine heavens. The Book of Changes speaks of "inner virtue flowing through the limbs, manifesting in deeds," while Mencius describes "radiance appearing in the countenance, filling the back, and extending to the limbs"—both depict the tangible manifestations of perfected elixir attainment. The Scripture on Salvation's "reciting ten times to revive dry bones" likewise refers to these cultivation achievements.

For those who begin Daoist practice in middle age, with congenital Qi already depleted, methods of life-extension must supplement postnatal deficiencies. Though genuine effort is applied, innate incompleteness makes the sacred embryo difficult to form. Only through unwavering resolve and timely nourishment of Shen and Qi can...

This scripture primarily emphasizes the importance of beginning spiritual cultivation early and illustrates how different paths of practice can transform into one another. It states that through persistent daily practice without interruption, even if one cannot achieve the ultimate states of transcending mortal form or attaining sagehood, laying a solid foundation and cultivating oneself will yield tangible benefits—extending lifespan while remaining steadfast at the gateway of spiritual practice. This way, one honors the virtuous connection forged with the Dao. Just as farming requires timely sowing, those seeking longevity must begin self-cultivation and introspection early, lest they regret delaying until old age.

The text then cites examples of practitioners who transitioned between paths: Mahakasyapa and Sariputra, two chief disciples of the Buddha, both mastered longevity techniques before receiving predictions of Buddhahood; Shenguang abandoned Daoist practice to follow Bodhidharma; the Fifth Patriarch Hongren was a pine-planting Daoist in his previous life; and Tanluan burned his immortal scriptures to embrace Pure Land Buddhism—all cases of transitioning from Dao to Buddhism. Conversely, Xu Xun (Xu Zhenjun) was formerly a disciple of Dipamkara Buddha before studying the Golden Elixir (Jindan) path under Mother Chen, ultimately ascending with his entire family; Li Changgeng (Li Babai) initially practiced Buddhism blindly until guidance led him to celestial immortality—demonstrating transitions from Buddhism to Daoism. Danxia Tianran abandoned officialdom for Buddhism before attaining enlightenment, while the author himself shifted from Confucianism to Daoist practice after receiving teachings from Zhenyang Zhenren—examples of moving from Confucianism to Buddhism or Daoism.

These cases illustrate that neither Buddhist nor Daoist cultivation follows fixed trajectories—the choice between them depends on individual resolve. The key lies in one’s vow: whichever direction one commits to demands diligent practice. Those devoted to Confucianism must aspire to sagehood as previously described; those pursuing the Daoist immortal path must deeply study methods of returning to primordial purity and recitation practices to transcend worldly ties. The name "Complete Perfection" (Quanzhen) requires wholly preserving this true, undivided, unborn-and-undying nature—any trace of selfish thought renders it incomplete. Our innate nature, bestowed by heaven, is originally whole; the slightest deficiency violates the principle of "wholly receiving and wholly returning." How lightly, then, can the title "Complete Perfection" be claimed?

For those drawn to Chan Buddhism or Dharma teachings, willing to renounce attachments and leave household life, they must abandon worldly bonds and resolve upward, applying relentless effort to Bodhidharma’s transmitted essence. By plunging into the sutras until wisdom becomes vast as the ocean, great attainment will naturally follow.

To study the classics is to delve deeply into their subtle principles, contemplating them morning and night. When encountering points of confusion, one must seek guidance from virtuous teachers (those accomplished in cultivation) and never presume to rely on personal conjecture. Like Sudhana in the Avatamsaka Sutra, who visited fifty-three spiritual mentors before attaining a state equal to the Buddhas—this exemplifies true lofty aspiration.

Some practitioners today may sit in meditation halls yet remain entangled in worldly afflictions, still clinging to fame and profit. They fail to recognize their original true mind (the inherently pure nature) and mistakenly take the clinging mind (the fluctuating thoughts influenced by external conditions) as their true essence. Such a life is like walking through fog—how could they ever see the clear sky?

The Mahayana sutras state, "When the mind arises, all phenomena arise; when the mind ceases, all phenomena cease." This clinging mind is a deluded thought that waxes and wanes with external circumstances, ever-changing and impermanent. The true mind, however, is eternal and unchanging. Regrettably, many meditators today misunderstand the true mind, mistaking the reactive clinging mind for their fundamental nature, unaware of the need for diligent cultivation.

If one observes this clinging mind in daily activities—where does it arise from? Where does it vanish to?—and seeks the unborn, undying true mind within these fluctuations, then once the veil of confusion is pierced, the original nature is directly perceived. At that moment, it becomes clear: recognizing illusion is immediate awakening, requiring no gradual progression. This resembles the Confucian principle of "restraining the self and returning to propriety"—overcoming selfish desires restores heavenly principle, just as recognizing illusion is awakening; they are fundamentally the same.

Yet to truly transcend illusion and return to the genuine, one must rely on the discipline of precepts and the practice of meditation (Ding, deep meditative concentration). Without strict adherence to precepts, the mind scatters, dragged by external conditions, making profound stillness unattainable. From precepts arises concentration; when the mind no longer wanders and is refined to a state of pure focus, the true mind naturally manifests. Hence the saying: "The true mind must reveal itself in engaging with phenomena, yet in engagement, one must not lose it." Confucius’ disciple Yan Hui’s four prohibitions—"Look not at what is contrary to propriety," etc.—are essentially precepts for safeguarding body and mind, identical in essence.

If one cannot even uphold precepts—or takes vows but does not keep them—how can they hope to realize their true nature? Without even attaining meditative stability, where would wisdom arise? Such a person cannot even approach the gate of the non-dual Dharma (the supreme truth beyond opposites). Those resolved to practice Zen must reflect deeply on this.

To attain Buddhahood, one must first understand Buddha-nature (the awakened essence), which is inherently present from the very beginning of life. All beings possess it equally—sages and ordinary people are no different in this regard. Some call it the "Great Vehicle" (Dacheng), others the "Supreme Vehicle," but these terms all point to the same fundamental nature. Though the nature itself is without distinction, the results of cultivation vary due to differences in people's innate capacities (root potential).

These differences in capacity stem from variations in the purity or turbidity of one's innate Qi (vital energy). Those with superior faculties grasp the truth upon hearing it and find cultivation and study effortless. Those of middling or lesser faculties comprehend more slowly, yet through diligent effort, they too can ultimately awaken—though the path is more arduous for them. Since these three types of capacities differ, so too do the methods of cultivation. For instance, the Śūraṅgama Sūtra describes over twenty approaches to entering the state of perfect penetration (Yuantong). The Perfect Enlightenment Sūtra presents three contemplative methods, each with variations—single cultivation, dual cultivation, and sequential or simultaneous practice. The Avataṃsaka Sūtra outlines ten stages of abiding, ten of practice, ten of dedication, and forty-one levels of attainment, each with its own depth and subtlety. Thus, one must study the scriptures with care, delving into their profound and intricate meanings.

Though the Buddha criticized those who merely accumulate knowledge without genuine practice, he also taught that bodhisattvas should broaden their learning to deepen wisdom. This shows that the Buddha did not reject scriptural study outright—just as one needs a raft to cross a river but need not carry it after reaching the other shore. Therefore, clinging to scriptures in seeking the Dharma is wrong, yet abandoning them entirely is equally mistaken. If meditation alone sufficed, why would the Tathāgata have taught for forty-nine years? Why, upon entering Nirvana, did he entrust the teachings to Ānanda? Those who pride themselves on superficial understanding while disparaging extensive learning are merely indulging in arrogance. Consider the ancient masters: through deep study of Indian Buddhist texts, they exhaustively explored the profound principles and clarified the essential teachings. It was precisely by relying on the scriptures that they achieved great awakening. Yongjia Master attained the mind-essence upon reading the Vimalakīrti Sūtra; the Tiantai patriarch Zhiyi realized samādhi (meditative absorption) through reciting the Lotus Sūtra; the Transmission of the Lamp records that most eminent monks were erudite scholars—rarely were they shallow in learning.

Yet the ultimate aim of the Buddha’s teaching is singular, though the methods of guiding beings are manifold. Scriptures are categorized as sudden or gradual teachings; paths are distinguished as Great Vehicle (Mahayana) or Lesser Vehicle (Hinayana). Those with sharp faculties may experience sudden awakening even within gradual teachings, while those with duller faculties may still require gradual cultivation within sudden teachings. Just as...

This scripture employs metaphors and allusions to illustrate the diverse paths of spiritual cultivation leading to Buddhahood. Wild beasts crossing a river can only wade in the shallows, much like the limitations of Hinayana (the practice focused on personal liberation). The Lotus Sutra's parable of the three carts (goat cart, deer cart, and ox cart) guiding beings out of a burning house reveals Buddhism's pedagogical wisdom of progressing from shallow to profound—first using expedient means (upaya) to guide, ultimately revealing the absolute truth (the One Vehicle of true reality).

The most profound Buddhist doctrine manifests in the Lotus Sutra's teaching of "unifying the three vehicles into one" (merging the vehicles of śrāvakas, pratyekabuddhas, and bodhisattvas into the single Buddha vehicle). The sutra records how the Buddha bestowed predictions of Buddhahood upon all disciples—regardless of gender, age, or celestial status—as naturally and universally as water filling valleys. Though all beings inherently possess Buddha-nature without distinction, how can one transcend the mundane without diligent contemplation? Consider how the Sixth Patriarch Huineng (the sixth patriarch of Chan Buddhism) tied stones to his waist while laboriously grinding rice before ordination—how many today cultivate with such vigor?

Cultivation methods are indeed manifold: some awaken through Chan meditation (the direct mind contemplation of Chan), some through sutra recitation (as recorded in the Pure Land tradition where Master Huiyuan of Mount Lushan attained rebirth in the Western Paradise through Buddha-name chanting), while other eminent monks realized their true nature through scriptural study. Worldly practitioners often disparage Buddha-recitation, unaware that Mahāsthāmaprāpta Bodhisattva (one of the Three Saints of the West) attained perfect penetration through this practice, and Samantabhadra Bodhisattva received his prediction of Buddhahood upon witnessing the Buddha's light.

Specific practices should align with individual capacities: those inclined to recitation should practice accordingly, realizing mind-nature through chanting; Chan-oriented practitioners must sever all attachments for direct investigation; Pure Land devotees should recite with Buddha-mind until achieving single-minded concentration. Those yet to realize their true nature must redouble their efforts—just as a wanderer finds peace only upon returning home, or a ferry reaches completion only when landing ashore. Half-hearted efforts and self-imposed limitations make transcendence impossible—even the first fruition (srotāpanna, the initial stage of śrāvaka realization) remains elusive, let alone the fourth (arhatship). Without attaining even the first dhyāna (the initial meditative absorption of the form realm), how could one reach the fourth (the highest)? Such lifelong practice yields no thorough awakening, betraying Bodhidharma's original intent in coming from the West, leaving one ultimately as a pitiable soul clad in monastic robes yet missing liberation.

At the Dharma assembly, after listening to the teachings, all the immortals rose and inquired of the Celestial Venerable: Since ancient times, many sages and wise beings have appeared in the world, and deities have occasionally descended to the mortal realm. In those early days, there were no written records, no Daoist scriptures (qiong bian) or Buddhist sutras (fan zhi), let alone distinctions between Confucianism and Daoism, much less Buddhism.

Later, as culture and education flourished, various texts emerged one after another, circulating in the world like the radiance of the sun, moon, and stars. But by the medieval period, people gradually lost their innate purity, no longer comprehending the true meaning of the Dao (the Way), and grew confused about its fundamental principles. Thus, the three teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—arose simultaneously to guide the lost. Unfortunately, as they developed separately, their differences widened. As the old saying goes, "Those with different doctrines do not conspire together," and Han Yu once said, "To believe in one is to reject the other." If the three teachings all originate from the same fundamental truth, then there should be no division among them; yet since they have already split into Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, it is no longer accurate to claim they share a single source. What, then, are their true similarities and differences? We beseech the Celestial Venerable to clarify this for future generations, so they may avoid confusion.

The Celestial Venerable replied: In the earliest times, when chaos first parted, there was no writing—people recorded events with knotted ropes. Heaven revealed its patterns through celestial phenomena like the sun, moon, stars, and clouds. The sages observed these heavenly signs and created seal script (zhuan shu), imitating the tracks of birds and beasts to invent written symbols for the people's use. At that time, Confucianism had not yet emerged, much less Buddhism or Daoism. Though these teachings did not yet exist as formal traditions, the fundamental principles were already present.

From the moment the River Chart (He Tu) and Luo Writing (Luo Shu)—legendary mystical diagrams—revealed the patterns of heaven and earth’s formation, Fu Xi derived the Eight Trigrams (Bagua) from them. The hexagrams of Qian (Heaven), Kun (Earth), Kan (Water), and Li (Fire), along with the principles of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), initiated the transmission of "refining the One and holding fast to the Mean" (jing yi zhi zhong), becoming the shared origin of the three teachings. The Book of Changes (Yi Jing) states, "One Yin and one Yang—this is called the Dao (the Way)." Daoist scriptures, too, constantly speak of Yin and Yang—how could they differ? Those who cultivate must first understand the principle of water and fire ascending and descending, yet the hexagrams of "Before Completion" (Wei Ji) and "After Completion" (Ji Ji) in the Yi Jing had already explained this. The medical sage Qi Bo taught the Yellow Emperor that "Heaven first generates water," while the mysteries of the River Chart correspond to the alchemical lead and mercury (qian gong). Even the Buddhist term "Golden Immortal" (jin xian, referring to the Buddha) associates "gold" with the origin of water—all of these stem from the generative numerology of the River Chart and Luo Writing, sharing the same essence.

As for the relationship between Daoism and Confucianism, it is even more evident: Can the arts of longevity cultivation be separated from the sixty-four hexagrams? Fu Xi’s Earlier Heaven (Xiantian) Bagua positioned Qian (Heaven) in the south and Kun (Earth) in the north, while King Wen of Zhou later established the Later Heaven (Houtian) Bagua...

This scripture expounds the fundamental unity of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. Practitioners of alchemical cultivation should position their furnace and cauldron between heaven and earth—specifically at the northwest (Qian position) and southwest (Kun position) orientations—using acquired cultivation methods to return to the innate state. That empty, quiescent void is the primordial "single stroke" (referring to the Taiji generating the two polarities of Yin-Yang) from which heaven and earth first emerged.

The ancient sages originally made no distinction between teachings. It was only during the middle antiquity period, considering that later generations would struggle to grasp the complete truth, that the sages divided the teachings into Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. Though their names differ, their underlying principles converge. Just as sages from millennia past share the same original mind and truth with sages of millennia to come. Buddhist scriptures similarly state: after the Buddha Sun-Moon-Lamp-Light comes another Buddha Sun-Moon-Lamp-Light; after King Buddha Sound of Dignity comes another King Buddha Sound of Dignity—demonstrating truth's eternal constancy.

Confucius once honored Laozi (Lord Lao the Most High) with the epithet "Dragon-like," showing Confucianism does not reject Daoism. In the Western Ascension Scripture, Laozi mentions his teacher being the Ancient Sovereign of India, proving Daoism does not exclude Buddhism. Śākyamuni Buddha himself, in past lives, studied under the Immortal of Longevity, recounting this experience when teaching the Lotus Sutra at Vulture Peak—demonstrating Buddhism does not spurn the immortal path. The original minds and truths of the three teachings' sages were never separate to begin with.

Practitioners need not master all three teachings, but if one deeply investigates the essence of mind-nature—whether studying Confucianism, Buddhism, or Daoism—upon genuine awakening, one will naturally comprehend their common origin. The key lies in becoming a true Confucian scholar, a true Buddhist disciple, and a true Daoist cultivator—approaching the fundamental truth with utmost sincerity and cultivating the purest practice. Attaining this authentic, non-dual state brings one near the realms of sages, buddhas, and immortals.

The Buddhist sutra states: "What is called sentient beings are precisely not sentient beings." If one merely clings to superficial forms and mocks others' paths, that is the mark of true ordinary beings. Hearing this teaching, the assembled immortals reverently bowed and praised: "The Celestial Worthy (Daoism's supreme deity) embodies great compassion, illuminating for us the fundamental unity of the three teachings—the oneness of mind-nature."

This scripture expounds the core concept of "the unity of three teachings." It begins with metaphors of a mirror reflecting the bright moon and still water mirroring the moon, illustrating how Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism share the same essence—all requiring solid foundations in spiritual practice. Only those who have truly attained the state of great perfection can comprehend this truth. After the assembled immortals finished speaking, fragrant flowers descended from heaven, circling the Dharma seat three times before the assembly bowed and withdrew.

The text emphasizes how a singular truth permeates all three teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, Daoism). The lamp of wisdom can illuminate ignorance, while the harmonizing wind of supreme peace (Taihe) can purify the heart. Whether through Confucian or Buddhist paths, the profound mysteries ultimately realized are identical. Though the methods may seem abstruse and difficult to grasp, penetrating their subtleties can guide the lost and deliver all beings.

The narrative continues with the Celestial Worthy (Tianzun, the highest deity in Daoism) expounding this principle of threefold unity, revealing mysteries never before disclosed. After the discourse concludes, the immortals journey together to the Jade Pure Sacred Realm (Yuqing Shengjing) in the Great Canopy Heaven (Miluo Tiangong)—Daoism's highest celestial domain—to report. The Celestial Worthy laments how most worldly beings remain trapped in delusion, with few truly awakening to the Dao, thus suffering calamities like floods, fires, and plagues. To resolve these tribulations, one must comprehend the fundamental Dao, and such understanding begins with cultivating the heart.

Observing the prevalence of corrupt Qi (vital energy) in the human realm—manifesting as droughts, floods, conflagrations, locust swarms, and epidemics—the Celestial Worthy descends upon Ezhou (modern Hubei region) riding five-colored auspicious clouds. It is autumn, with crisp winds and radiant crimson clouds, as mountains stand in silent majesty amid rising violet vapors. Joyfully gathering around the Dharma seat, the immortals listen as the Celestial Worthy reveals that resolving these disasters requires guiding beings back to the true path through heart cultivation.

The various calamities in this world may appear to be the arrangements of fate, but in truth they are all the karmic retribution of human actions. According to Daoist scriptures, the period from midnight to dawn (子时到寅时) constitutes a minor kalpa (a unit of time), and twelve such cycles form a major kalpa. Whenever a major kalpa arrives, disasters such as famine, plague, war, droughts, and floods emerge, even to the extent of celestial irregularities in the movements of the sun, moon, and stars, along with frequent landslides and deluges.

The ancients, when faced with calamities, understood the importance of self-reflection and cultivation. From rulers to commoners, none dared neglect this principle. Historical records show that when a ruler cultivated virtue (德, De) without fault, comets would not appear, and predicted solar or lunar eclipses would vanish. When officials were upright and incorruptible, locusts would not invade their regions, and tigers would cross rivers to flee. There are even accounts of winds reversing to extinguish fires—all clearly documented in historical texts.

One story tells of a city whose inhabitants, due to past misdeeds, were destined for destruction. When the Eastern Peak Administration (东岳府, the Daoist institution overseeing the underworld) reported this to the celestial court, the Jade Emperor observed dark qi (气) shrouding the city. Suddenly, a beam of auspicious light shot up from one corner of the city. It turned out to be the virtuous deeds of a filial son, which moved Heaven. The Jade Emperor then dispatched the Star of Greed and Wolf (贪狼星君) with a divine decree to protect the city, sparing all its inhabitants. This event, recorded in the Emperor Wen’s Exhortations on Filial Piety (《文帝劝孝录》), demonstrates that even the gravest calamities can be averted through human virtue.

Ancient texts state: "Heaven-sent disasters may still be avoided, but self-inflicted sins are inescapable." Today, when people encounter misfortune, instead of reflecting and practicing good deeds, they indulge in extravagance and frivolity, engaging in meaningless pursuits—this outright defies the principles of Heaven. The ancients taught that aligning with the Dao (道) ensures survival; this "alignment" means following natural law, not seeking blessings through unrighteous means. When disaster strikes, if one family upholds virtue, they may be spared; if an entire community cultivates goodness, their collective suffering may be lifted. Let us all deeply contemplate this truth and earnestly accumulate virtue through righteous action.

The Celestial Emperor can resolve calamities, avert misfortunes, and dissolve karmic transgressions. Even if accumulated faults and impurities are as thick as clouds, they will be scattered by a fierce wind—just as frost melts under the blazing sun. Do not be misled by deceitful shamans and sorcerers, for their improper rituals not only bring no benefit but instead compound sin. The true method for dispelling calamities and misfortunes lies in cautious self-cultivation and earnest virtuous practice.

In Chapter 23 of the Heavenly and Human Principles, the Celestial Worthy (the supreme deity of Daoism) admonishes all: The anomalies of the Dao (the Way) can be altered, and the disordered paths of the stars can be rectified. The transformation of the Dao ultimately depends on human action. In life, wealth and poverty, honor and disgrace, success and failure, longevity and early death—none are fixed. If one cultivates virtue (De) to its utmost, the lowly may become noble, the poor may become rich, the short-lived may extend their years, and the troubled may find smooth passage. Conversely, those who commit great evil will receive the opposite retribution. Thus, though human gains and losses are determined by Heaven, human effort can alter destiny, and Heaven’s will ultimately prevails over human endeavor. The mutual resonance between Heaven and humanity follows a unified principle.

Just as a river, though naturally flowing, can be halted by a dam, the human body, though naturally unobstructed, becomes constrained when blocked. A deep pool, though still, can be made to flow by digging a channel. So too with people: when fortune has yet to arrive, they may seem incapable, their actions hindered at every turn, enduring poverty, hunger, and the torment of worry. But once fortune arrives, they may accomplish earth-shaking, awe-inspiring deeds. Fundamentally, they remain the same person—it is not that they suddenly gain abilities they lacked before, but that fate’s timing governs their circumstances.

The cycles of wealth and poverty, honor and disgrace, have no end. Consider the old man planting melons by the Green Gate—once the illustrious Marquis of Dongling (a noble of the Qin dynasty), how could his wealth and status last forever? And the ministers now debating in court were once mocked as impoverished scholars dozing off—how can poverty and lowliness be despised? Thus, the sages (those who have attained the Dao) observe the patterns of Heaven’s Dao and act in accordance with its will. In wealth and honor, they are not arrogant; in poverty and lowliness, they do not grieve. They rejoice in Heaven and understand fate, their minds as vast as the void. Their vital energy (Qi) flows through the four seasons, their wisdom rivals the sun and moon, and their actions align with Heaven’s virtue (De). Thus, their destiny naturally unfolds with ease.

Hardship and ease transform into one another; decline and revival alternate. Just as the Qi of Heaven and Earth does not decline forever but revives at its extreme, so too with human affairs—prosperity does not last indefinitely, and excess gives way to hardship. The Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Laozi) said: The Dao of Heaven is like drawing a bow—what is high is lowered, and what is low is raised.

This passage expounds the core Daoist concept of "the unity of Heaven and humanity." Laozi teaches that when things reach their extreme, they reverse direction—fortune and misfortune are interdependent, with the key lying in finding the balance point. The human body corresponds to the celestial Dao. The Yinfu Jing (a key Daoist scripture) states that human nature originates from Heaven, and the human mind manifests Heaven's mysteries. By establishing the patterns of the celestial Dao, one can stabilize the human heart. When Heaven and humanity resonate in harmony, all transformations find their foundation.

For those seeking to cultivate the Dao and attain immortality, understanding this unity of Heaven and humanity is paramount. Comprehending this principle allows one to master cosmic laws and harmonize personal existence with the operations of Heaven and Earth—the highest level of spiritual practice. However, this state requires fully realizing one's innate nature and penetrating Heaven's mandate, which proves difficult for beginners. Thus practitioners should start by contemplating their own heart-mind, for the human mind inherently contains celestial principles—the human heart is the Heavenly heart. Just as Heaven has its Taiji (Supreme Ultimate, cosmic origin), so does the human mind; as Heaven maintains Zhonghe (equilibrium), so does the human heart.

Zisi (Confucius' grandson) observed: The Dao never separates from humanity. If someone cultivates the Dao while distancing themselves from human nature, they're not practicing the true Dao. Beyond the heart there is no Dao; beyond the Dao there is no heart. Therefore cultivating the Dao means cultivating the heart, and cultivating the heart means cultivating the Dao. Every person's heart contains the complete celestial Dao, but worldly desires obscure this original mind. Seeking the celestial Dao in wordless silence ultimately means returning to the heart's primordial purity—only then can the human mind commune with the vast, profound Dao of Heaven.

The author mentions previously worrying that alchemical gold-making techniques (a form of waidan, external alchemy) might mislead later generations. It was precisely by maintaining this sincere heart—daring not deceive Heaven—that immortal masters guided him to authentic realization. Now when disseminating Daoist teachings, he acts with compassionate heart as Heaven's instrument. If all beings maintain such sincerity, they will surely receive celestial protection and attain the Great Dao.

Chapter 24 discusses how virtue (De) sustains prosperity. The natural law dictates that fullness leads to decline—only through virtuous maintenance can reversal be avoided. Like a filled vessel requiring constant polishing to remain complete, or a house full of gold and jade that none can permanently safeguard, wealth accompanied by arrogance invites disaster. Withdrawing after accomplishing one's task accords with the Dao of Heaven.

In the natural world, among the three hundred and sixty species of birds, the phoenix reigns as their sovereign; among the three hundred and sixty kinds of beasts, the qilin stands as their leader; and among the three hundred and sixty hairless creatures, humanity holds primacy. All beings in the universe differ from one another—birds and beasts each possess unique characteristics, while spiritual acuity and dullness manifest diversely. This is because all things follow their distinct innate natures, flourishing spontaneously between heaven and earth. How could we ever forcibly make them identical?

This principle extends beyond mere creatures. Consider the vast heavens and earth, the radiant sun and moon—though we might assume they encompass and illuminate all without exception, in truth, the sky cannot fully cover the southeastern regions, nor can the earth completely fill the northwestern territories. The polar yin lands of the north remain untouched by the sun and moon's light. Thus, Zisi (grandson of Confucius) observed: "As vast as heaven and earth are, humans still find reasons for regret." Qu Yuan likewise questioned: "Where does the sunlight fail to reach? Why then does the Candle Dragon shine? Before Xihe (the sun charioteer) rises, why do the flowers of the Ruomu tree glow?" Clearly, even with their immensity and brilliance, heaven, earth, sun, and moon remain imperfect—how much more so for humans?

Long ago, when the Perfected Lord Wang Zongzhen became a disciple of the Immortal Ma Gu (a Daoist goddess), she told him: "Since I began receiving guests, I've witnessed the Eastern Sea turn to mulberry fields three times, while the waters around Penglai Immortal Isle have grown shallow again." This reveals how time flashes by like a white steed glimpsed through a crack—vanishing as swiftly as lightning. When the woodcutter Wang Zhi paused to watch a chess game, a thousand human years had passed; when the fisherman returned to the riverbank, his former ferry was nowhere to be found. In truth, the entire cosmos is an illusory realm, and all living beings are phantom forms—illusory experiences unfolding through illusion, with endless strange transformations since antiquity.

If we probe deeper, even heaven and earth are illusory transformations, destined ultimately to decay. Thus, "sincerity" (authentic truth) is the root of all things—heaven and earth are merely phenomena, albeit longer-lasting than human existence. Yet even they are not perpetually strong: observe how the sun begins its westward descent at high noon, or how the moon wanes after reaching fullness, their cycles of waxing and waning revolving with time. Mountains and rivers demonstrate this too—water overflows when full, earthen mounds collapse when over-piled—such is the Dao of all things. Consider ephemeral creatures: morning-born, evening-dead fungi know nothing of lunar phases; summer cicadas remain ignorant of spring and autumn. Though tiny, their spiritual natures still differ in acuity and dullness.

In early summer, while a hundred flowers flourish, some grasses wither prematurely—how to explain this? When spring thunder first rumbles, fruit trees and plants sprout, with peach and plum blossoms vying in brilliance; yet as southern winds arrive, pomegranate flowers blaze more vividly, lotuses release their fragrance, while peach and plum blossoms fade unnoticed. When autumn winds rise and white dew descends, chrysanthemums bloom defiantly in late autumn. All this shows how each being follows its own rhythm of growth and decline.

The lotus admired by recluses may lack intense fragrance, yet its elegance shines brighter in clear ponds and jade-green waters. But where are those once-blooming hibiscus flowers now? Observe carefully the cycle of seasons—the alternation of cold and heat, the perpetual waxing and waning of plants and trees. All things inherently differ—this is the principle of nature. The swift runner cannot be forced to fly, nor can the dull-witted be compelled to wisdom, for such is their innate nature.

The "Equalizing of Things" (Qiwu) spoken of by the Sovereign of Southern Florescence (Zhuangzi) does not demand uniformity among all things. Rather, it recognizes that fundamentally, all things ultimately return to their source (returning to the root, reverting to Heaven's decree)—in this, they are truly the same. Thus, those who comprehend the Dao observe external phenomena and reflect inwardly, understanding that fullness and emptiness, growth and decline are but the natural rotations of the cosmic wheel. Where there is abundance here, there must be lack elsewhere—nothing remains in perpetual prosperity.

Therefore, the wise abide in their proper station without vain striving. Even at the height of success, they remain vigilant against decline: maintaining humility in high positions preserves lasting dignity; restraining excess in wealth ensures enduring prosperity. In the Book of Changes (Yijing), the sages placed the Hexagram of Modesty (Qian) after that of Great Possession (Dayou), illustrating that only through humility in abundance can one retain it. Not only was Prince Jing of Wei praised by Confucius for his skill in household management—his contentment was key. Laozi said, "He who knows contentment knows no disgrace; he who knows where to stop encounters no danger." Buddhist scriptures likewise teach, "The contented, though poor, are rich; the greedy, though wealthy, are poor." The Book of Songs (Shijing) further states, "Without envy or covetousness, how could misfortune arise?"

Once discontent takes root, greed arises; once greed stirs, jealousy and craving intensify, wholly deviating from the Dao of harmonious living. Moreover, at the peak of prosperity, complacency breeds arrogance, while the slightest setback invites resentment—such is the inevitable chain of consequences. Surveying past and present, where has perpetual prosperity ever endured? The eight Xi clans of Jin had five ministers and three high officials, yet within generations their descendants became mere farmers. Guo Ziyi of the Tang dynasty restored the empire and reached the pinnacle of power, yet his grand estate soon passed to others. Thus, the secret to preserving prosperity lies solely in upholding the Dao of humility and restraint.

This scripture conveys two main teachings: first, that all beings are constrained by the limitations of their physical forms and functions, and second, that through Daoist cultivation one can transcend these limitations.

It begins by advising practitioners to maintain humility and restraint, using De (Virtue) as their protective shield. Regarding the natural cycles of prosperity and decline, one should follow their course and accept Heaven's mandate. The text observes that no example exists in history of anyone maintaining perpetual prosperity without encountering decline.

Vivid examples illustrate how physical forms impose constraints: human eyes see and ears hear, each with distinct functions; though both are birds, chickens see clearly by day but not at night, while owls possess the opposite capability. These limitations stem from inherent structural constraints of physical forms.

Yet Daoist adepts transcend such limitations: though emptiness appears void, those who attain the Dao can walk through it; though metal and stone seem impenetrable, realized masters pass through them freely. This resembles the spiritual powers of a Tathagata (Buddhist term for one who has attained supreme wisdom), where eyes function as ears and ears as eyes. The source of this transcendence lies in the power of "transformation."

The Dao possesses infinite transformative capacity. Consider the mutual generation and restraint among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water): while Earth normally restrains Water, excessive Water can erode and destroy soil; though Wood generates Fire, excessive Fire consumes its source. These transformations follow inherent principles rather than occurring randomly.

The text concludes with examples demonstrating the importance of "causes and conditions" (Buddhist term for interdependent origination). When Shakyamuni preached the Dharma, Kondanna and others attained enlightenment upon understanding this principle; after the Lotus Sutra expounded causation, Purna and others received prophecies of future Buddhahood. The author cites personal examples: the immortal Miaoxing Zhenren descending to the Lü family, Zhengyang Zhenren (honorific title of Zhongli Quan) transmitting the Scripture on Salvation, and the Supreme Lord Lao (one of the Three Pure Ones) instructing Shaoyang Dijun (honorific title of Wang Xuanfu) to descend and guide Zhengyang Zhenren—all occurring due to karmic connections from past lives.

The Holy Master (referring to an accomplished Daoist adept), through the merit of guiding me, confirms the significant position of True Yang Zhenren (the revered title of Daoist immortal Zhongli Quan) in transmitting the Dao. Without karmic connections from past lives, how could we have met across the centuries from the Zhou to Han dynasties, and again from Han to Tang? The cosmos is vast—without predestined affinity, even face-to-face encounters would be missed; yet with destined connection, ten thousand miles pose no distance.

When Bodhidharma (the First Patriarch of Chan Buddhism) received the instruction from the 27th Patriarch of Western Heaven (Indian Chan lineage): "Your karmic destiny lies in the Eastern Land (China)," he crossed the seas. Arriving during Emperor Wu of Liang's Tianjian era, he retreated to Shaolin Temple for nine years of wall-gazing after failing to align in Dao-discourse with the emperor. Later encountering Shenguang (Chan Master Huike), he transmitted the verse: "One flower blooms five petals, its fruit ripens naturally"—a prophecy fulfilled precisely with the Sixth Patriarch Huineng. Does this not demonstrate karmic destiny's predetermined nature?

During my (the author's) Dharma transmissions in Piling and Qizhen, connections lasted as long as destined—never without cause. By decree of the Jade Pure Numinous Treasure Celestial Worthy (one of Daoism's supreme deities), bearing the Numinous Talismans of the Golden Tower of Miluo (heavenly palace), I universally guide destined beings across the trichiliocosm. With compassionate heart wishing none left unguided, a single day manifests three thousand transformations—yet like rain nourishing all things yet unable to nurture rootless trees, this isn't confined to any locale.

The depth of connection depends on karmic seeds sown: small causes bear small fruits, great causes great fruits. No wholesome cause yields unwholesome fruit, nor vice versa. Present devotees to my Dao all share past-life connections with me—deep causes yield deep connections, shallow causes shallow. Disciples' meetings are never accidental; each should cultivate self-reflection, cherish these wholesome causes, and jointly nurture wholesome connections. Persevere unwaveringly until karmic maturation brings Dao-realization, and this truth will be self-evident.

Just as Śāriputra (foremost in wisdom among Buddha's ten great disciples) formed his teacher-disciple bond with Śākyamuni Buddha during the era of King Śobhita, following across kalpas until becoming the foremost in wisdom under Śākyamuni's teachings—so too, disciples with sincere faith in cause and effect, daily nurturing wholesome thoughts, will naturally perfect wholesome karma. Guard against losing your way or straying onto wrong paths.

(Chapter 26 discusses) In antiquity when human hearts were pure, under sagely governance all turned toward goodness without evil. (The scripture here remains incomplete, continuing with discourse on retributive justice of sins and blessings)

In ancient times, as social morality gradually declined, evildoers multiplied while virtuous people became scarce. Thus, the sages employed the divine principles of the Dao to educate humanity, elucidating the laws of karmic retribution for good and evil deeds, as well as the cycles of life and death, guiding people toward virtue and self-reformation.

The Confucian scholars of that era failed to comprehend the Daoist principle of cosmic cycles where good and evil inevitably receive their due. When hearing Buddhist and Daoist teachings about karmic consequences and divine verification, they often dismissed them as absurd tales. Some even claimed that before Buddhism's arrival in China, there existed no concept of hellish punishments like pounding mortars or grinding mills. Little did they know these descriptions of infernal retribution were clearly documented in Daoist scriptures long before—how could they be exclusive to Buddhist texts?

The sages' teachings are unequivocal: virtuous ascendants reach celestial realms while evildoers descend into the Three Wretched Realms (hells, hungry ghosts, and animal rebirth). These matters simply belong to the unseen spiritual world beyond ordinary perception. As Laozi (the Supreme Venerable Sovereign) declared: "The Dao contends not yet always prevails; it speaks not yet always answers"—could this be entirely unfounded?

The graphic depictions of hells in Buddhist scriptures actually represent compassionate expedient means—using vivid portrayals of suffering in the Three Wretched Realms to awaken those of inferior spiritual capacity who cannot grasp profound truths. The Vimalakirti Sutra states: "The beings of this world are stubborn and difficult to teach, thus the Buddha must use stern words to tame them." For those of medium or superior capacity, simply explaining mind-cultivation methods suffices; regarding karmic consequences, mere warnings against transgression will do.

In truth, the principle of retribution permeates not only Buddhist and Daoist teachings but also Confucian classics, which contain countless examples. The Spring and Autumn Annals record 242 years of history overflowing with manifest retribution. Consider these cases:

Duke Xiang of Qi actually murdered the ruler of Lu, then blamed Minister Pengsheng when confronted. Later during Qi's civil unrest, the duke saw a boar stand upright weeping "I am Pengsheng"—fleeing in terror, he met his end. Was this not a vengeful spirit claiming karmic justice?

When omens haunted Zheng State foretelling Minister Duan's murder the following year—later fulfilled exactly—was this not proof of posthumous retribution?

At the Kuiqiu alliance, Duke Huan of Qi's first covenant clause prohibited "deposing heirs or elevating concubines as wives"—yet he kept six favorites whose sons' succession wars left his corpse unburied, with maggots crawling from his death chamber. Was this not horrific retribution for oath-breaking?

When Duke Xian of Jin borrowed passage to annihilate Yu State, his descendants suffered identical fate. These historical records vividly demonstrate the inexorable law of cause and effect.

This scripture illustrates the celestial principle of karmic retribution through historical anecdotes. Those who harm others through sinister means ultimately receive corresponding retribution. For instance, Duke Xian of Jin, heeding the slander of his concubine Li Ji, killed Crown Prince Shen Sheng and forced Prince Chong'er (later Duke Wen of Jin) into exile, nearly causing the state's destruction. Wei Ke, who followed his father's dying wish to treat his concubine kindly, later received benevolent reward when a ghostly spirit tangled grass to assist him in repelling enemies on the battlefield.

The author cites historical figures like Lü Buwei (who presented his already pregnant concubine to the Qin king) and Lord Chunshen (who sent his pregnant concubine to serve the Chu king). Though they schemed exhaustively to make their sons rulers, they ultimately died at the hands of these very sons or concubines. Special mention is made of Bai Qi, the Qin general (Lord Wuan), who buried alive 400,000 Zhao soldiers—his soul still suffers in the animal realm of rebirth to this day.

The text emphasizes that the cosmic law of karmic retribution is absolute. Though some accounts may seem extraordinary, all accord with celestial principles. As the Book of Songs states: "The divine is unfathomable, yet Heaven observes the finest detail, constantly scrutinizing human affairs." As practitioners, we should rejoice at virtuous outcomes and emulate them, while viewing wicked retribution as cautionary mirrors. When encountering the virtuous, we should aspire to match their standards; when seeing the unvirtuous, we must examine ourselves—this constitutes the correct attitude for navigating worldly existence.

Some people feel envious when hearing of others receiving good karma for virtuous deeds, yet take malicious pleasure when learning of evildoers meeting retribution. This prejudiced mentality is most detrimental, for accumulated negative consequences ultimately return to oneself. Never cling stubbornly like pedantic Confucian scholars who dismiss Buddhist and Daoist teachings on karma as deception, treating scriptural accounts of rebirth cycles and hellish sufferings as mere fables. Such delusion persists until one plunges into the abyss, remaining unawakened even at death's door.

Historical evidence confirms the objective existence of spirits. The eminent Buddhist translator Kumarajiva made this vow before parinirvana: should any single character in his translated sutras distort the Buddha's truth, may his tongue rot. During cremation, witnesses saw his entire body reduced to ashes—except his tongue, preserved intact like a red lotus blossom. To this day, celestial dragons and Dharma protectors in immortal palaces and island paradises continuously venerate his translations with incense and floral offerings. Can this possibly be mere fantasy?

Worldly scholars with narrow perspectives, raised in confined environments, fail to comprehend Confucianism, Buddhism and Daoism sharing common origins. In youth they wallow in carnal desires, preoccupied with marriage; in old age, ignorant that the physical body is but a temporary coalescence of the Four Elements (earth, water, fire, wind), they perceive fleeting emotional attachments as reality. Mocking immortal scriptures and disparaging Buddhist texts, they dismiss "virtue begets blessings while licentiousness invites calamity" as nonsense, regarding rebirth as unbelievable.

In truth, such individuals haven't even penetrated their own fundamental nature. Ask them about life's essence and they respond confusedly; examine their conduct and it proves mediocre. Alone, their hearts brim with shame—even their own shadows make them blush. How dare they claim spirits are fictitious or deem Buddhist-Daoist teachings absurd? When Zilu inquired about serving spirits, Confucius replied, "You cannot even serve men properly—how then can you serve spirits?" Here the sage used practical wisdom to enlighten him, never denying spirits' existence. Confucius also stated, "Life and death are matters of gravity"—even sages cannot escape this universal law. The I Ching (Yijing) teaches: "To understand life and death, investigate existence's origin," and "Essential Qi (Jingqi) condenses to form life; wandering souls transform into spirits." Comprehending these principles naturally reveals rebirth's truth.

Zhang Zai (style name Zihou) said: Only by understanding that the physical body perishes while the spirit remains indestructible can one discuss the true nature of mind and essence. What people commonly call life and death refers only to the physical form - it does not mean that one's fundamental nature is actually born or destroyed. It's like how the branches and leaves of plants wither, but as long as their roots remain in the earth, they will sprout anew in spring. The principle is the same for humans: accumulating virtuous deeds leads to rebirth in favorable realms, while committing evil actions results in falling into miserable destinies.

If we consider death as complete annihilation, then the account in the "Metal-Bound Coffer" chapter of the Book of Documents about the Duke of Zhou offering to die in King Wu's place becomes inexplicable. When praying, the Duke described himself as "humane, filial, and multi-talented, capable of serving the spirits." If annihilation were true - with the body decaying and the Shen (spirit) dispersing - how could the Duke's abilities enable him to serve the spirits? And if the spirits themselves were annihilated, whom could he possibly serve?

The rites of sacrifice were ceremonies highly valued by ancient sages. If spirits didn't exist, wouldn't Confucius' saying that "even simple offerings should be made with sincerity" be mere foolishness? Some claim sacrifices connect descendants with their ancestors through shared Qi (vital energy), but when emperors sacrifice to mountains, rivers and lakes - which aren't their ancestors - how do these rituals still evoke responses? Mencius recorded that when Shun and Yu presided over sacrifices, hundreds of spirits partook of the offerings - were these hundreds of spirits their descendants?

Though the ways of spirits remain profoundly mysterious, the principles of birth-death transmigration are clearly evident. The retribution of good and evil is as immediate as the sound following a drumbeat, and the turning of rebirth is as swift as a rolling wheel. Without the law of karma and the existence of hell realms, how would Heaven treat sages like Confucius? And why would someone like Cao Cao (Emperor Wu of Wei) alone receive a peaceful death? As for the "Declarations of the Perfected," it's a later forgery unworthy of belief.

If the principle that good deeds bring blessings and evil deeds bring misfortune were invalid, then those who maintain proper conduct and diligently cultivate virtue would fare worse than those who indulge desires and commit atrocities - does this make sense? Nowadays, as social morality declines, people don't fear retribution even when it appears before their eyes, let alone dread the sufferings of hell after death. How lamentable that people live without knowing whence they came, die without knowing whither they go, waste their fleeting time, and remain trapped in the cycle of rebirth without ever realizing it.

People often believe themselves to be clever and discreet, thinking that their thoughts and intentions may not be immediately perceived by spirits and deities. Yet they fail to understand that the entire Dharma Realm (cosmic truth) is fundamentally one with their own mind—the moment a thought arises, all ten directions of the universe become aware of it. This is why the Doctrine of the Mean begins by teaching the importance of cultivating oneself with vigilance and caution. Though spirits and deities are invisible and inaudible, the divine awareness within our deepest conscience cannot be deceived.

Disciples on the path of cultivation should awaken to this truth and refine themselves diligently. Do not dismiss the cycle of birth and death as mere illusion, nor regard the retributions of spirits and deities as absurd superstitions. By maintaining this attitude of reverence, virtuous causes will gradually accumulate, negative karma will diminish, and one's pure virtue will rise like fragrant incense to the celestial realms, where it will be joyfully received by the divine.

Chapter 28 speaks of the truth that "Dharma and self are one": every individual inherently possesses the eternal and unchanging Dao of True Constancy. Every action, every word of a person is the wondrous functioning of this True Constancy, perfectly appropriate in dealing with affairs and responding to all phenomena. Confucianism calls it "utmost sincerity without cessation," Daoism terms it "attaining one's nature through True Constancy," and Buddhism refers to it as the "abiding true mind"—yet these are ultimately the same principle.

The essence of the Dao of True Constancy is pure and genuine, and thus must be embodied with sincerity; it is everlasting and unchanging, and thus must be pursued with constancy. If one is hypocritical and given to false thoughts, one loses the "true"; if one is inconsistent and easily distracted, one violates the "constancy." Therefore, the movements of heaven and earth never cease, and the way of the noble person remains steadfast. This Dao of True Constancy is the supremely pure and singular Great Dao of the Jade Capital (the highest celestial realm in Daoism), which gives birth to all things and is called the "Dharma Gate."

The Book of Changes states, "Perfecting one's nature and preserving it preserves the gate of Dao and righteousness," meaning that all truths arise from this source. Hence it is said, "One gives birth to Two, Two gives birth to Three, and Three gives birth to the myriad things"—all things contain yin and yang. This "One" is the mind of utmost sincerity, from which the two modes of yin and yang divide, establishing the three powers of heaven, earth, and humanity, and giving rise to the myriad things. The Dao of heaven and earth is single-minded and undivided, thus its transformations are unfathomable. Heaven and earth, humanity, sages, buddhas and immortals, even the Lord of Heaven—all return to this "One." This Dharma Gate of True Oneness is the most numinous and precious, the purest and most refined. The Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (the highest deity in Daoism) expounded this truth in his teachings, and the Jade Emperor descended to the human realm based on this very Dao.

At Mount Puming Xiangyan (a sacred Daoist cultivation site), the core essence of spiritual practice lies in cultivating this "One" (the fundamental truth of Daoism); the key to attaining Buddhahood or immortality also entirely depends on comprehending this "One." From specific examples: the Land of Splendid Light and Wonderful Joy (an ideal Daoist pure land) is where the Jade Emperor descended and manifested, while Mount Puming serves as the sacred ground for cultivating true nature and nurturing life.

In Daoist cultivation terms: the Land of Splendid Light and Wonderful Joy actually symbolizes the solemn Dharmakaya (truth body) of a person, while Mount Puming Xiangyan represents the luminous original mind. The Jade Emperor's renunciation of his throne to cultivate the Dao mirrors Prince Siddhartha abandoning his royal status to practice asceticism in the snow mountains—both chose snowy peaks and Mount Xiangyan for their pristine environments. But why do scriptures record that the Jade Emperor's cultivation through each kalpa (eon) must undergo the number "eight hundred"? This contains profound stages of practice:

The first eight hundred kalpas of relinquishing the kingdom correspond to Buddhism's "Eight Liberations" (eight methods of emancipation), just as the Six Perfections (six cultivation methods) begin with charity; the second eight hundred kalpas transform the eight consciousnesses (eight types of mental cognition in Buddhist theory) into the Great Perfect Mirror Wisdom (supreme wisdom), showing that Dao cultivation must awaken insight; the third eight hundred kalpas symbolize the Noble Eightfold Path (eight correct cultivation methods), representing the most ultimate truth among all spiritual practices; the final eight hundred kalpas involve abandoning one's flesh and blood, corresponding to the eight emancipations (eight liberation states), when one truly reaches the realm of "forgetting both self and Dharma."

After passing through these 3,200 kalpas to attain Golden Immortality (the highest fruition), the numbers signify: 3,000 representing transcendence beyond the Three Realms (Desire, Form, and Formless Realms) and mastery of the Three Vehicles (three cultivation paths), while 200 symbolizes the perfect fusion of the Two Truths (ultimate and conventional wisdom). Though the Jade Emperor had already attained Buddhahood (the highest enlightenment in Buddhism), being called "Tathagata Buddha the Awakened King," his great compassion moved him to relinquish this status, continuing bodhisattva practice (vowing to liberate beings) for countless kalpas until finally realizing the Jade Emperor's fruition. His merits are inconceivable, while the Jade Maiden (female cultivation attainers) similarly achieved pure Dharmakaya through practice—manifesting the truth that "the mutual interplay of Yin and Yang constitutes the Dao."

Notably, when Sariputra (a disciple of Buddha) once doubted the Dragon Girl's potential for Buddhahood—claiming female bodies were impure with five obstructions (five cultivation hindrances)—this view precisely revealed attachment to form. The Great Dao fundamentally transcends gender distinctions and cannot be judged by external appearances. Just as when the Jade Emperor radiates light illuminating infinite worlds, all Golden Immortals and bodhisattvas scatter incense and flowers in homage—this shows true attainers have surpassed all discriminatory appearances.

This passage expounds the principle that immortals and Buddhas share the same origin. When the Buddha Shakyamuni preached the Dharma, his radiance shook the earth, and all celestial deities (referring to high-ranking Daoist divinities) gathered to listen. In truth, these celestial beings inherently possess boundless light, yet the text specifically mentions "seventeen types of radiance" because since ancient times, both Daoist cultivation and Buddhist practice require first nurturing the four immeasurable minds of compassion, loving-kindness, sympathetic joy, and equanimity to attain sacred states. Thus, these seventeen lights begin with "Great Compassion Radiance" and culminate in "Unsurpassable Radiance."

All sentient beings inherently possess this luminous nature, but ordinary people obscure it with selfish desires, and even sages cannot fully manifest it—only the Jade Emperor (one of the highest Daoist deities) can completely reveal it. Would exalted deities like the Lord of High Void and Pure Bright Heaven (a divinity of the eighth celestial realm) be unaware of the Jade Emperor's deeds? Yet the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (the supreme Daoist deity) still states that these deities cannot behold the Jade Emperor's compassionate countenance due to residual habits. This uses celestial affairs to enlighten humanity: to overcome obstacles, the most crucial step is to awaken great compassion.

When bodhisattvas deliver sentient beings, they all aspire to liberate everyone through nirvana. Afflictions such as suspicion, disputes, selfishness, greed, arrogance, and lust are the roots of samsara. This scripture states that "eliminating obstacles is attaining Buddhahood," while Confucianism teaches "restraining the self and returning to propriety"—all cultivation must begin here. True practitioners of this scripture must eradicate selfish thoughts, maintain integrity, avoid pride and deceit, fulfill loyalty and filial piety, and take refuge in the Dao (the Way). Only then are they worthy of being called "Perfected Persons" (Zhenren)—not by merely reciting scriptures. One must systematically eliminate each obstacle pointed out in the text until none remain. This is the highest state of Daoist cultivation and the key to transcending the mundane and entering the sacred.

Though Buddhist and Daoist scriptures and practices differ, the essence of this Jade Scripture (Yujing) closely resembles Buddhist sutras. For instance, it describes how the Jade Emperor's manifestations from the ten directions gather at the Celestial Worthy's assembly, like infinite mirrors—paralleling Buddhist accounts of Shakyamuni's manifestations throughout the ten directions, the appearance of Prabhutaratna's stupa, and pure lands accommodating countless beings.

This passage elucidates the fundamental convergence between Buddhist and Daoist teachings. It illustrates how, just as the seven-jeweled canopies offered by five hundred elders to Śākyamuni Buddha (founder of Buddhism) merged into a singular unity, the transformations of all phenomena require both oneness and multiplicity. Exclusive emphasis on unity obscures the wonder of transformation, while fixation on differentiation veils the mystery of origin.

The text particularly reveals that Śākyamuni Buddha is in truth an emanation of the Jade Emperor (Yu Huang Dadi, supreme deity of Daoism), though this remains imperceptible to ordinary people. Buddhism and Daoism share remarkable similarities in the miraculous transformations attained through spiritual cultivation, with their primary differences lying in specific teachings like the Five Directions Mandates (Wufang Gaoming, edicts from the Five Directional Heavenly Sovereigns) of Daoism. Both these mandates and the Scarlet Texts' Divine Scripts (Chishu Lingwen, pivotal Daoist scriptures) constitute supreme wondrous methods that existed prior to heaven and earth's separation, originating from the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi Tianzun, highest Daoist divinity).

The scripture emphasizes that genuine practitioners must first eliminate all obstructions before engaging in practical cultivation according to the Five Directions' Divine Scripts. With sustained practice, celestial deities will offer protection, karmic hindrances will naturally dissipate, and practitioners may attain twelve Dharma-bodies (manifestations of spiritual accomplishment) along with thirty forms of De (virtuous power). Mere scriptural recitation without actual practice proves as futile as pouring water into a leaking vessel. Contemporary Daoist practitioners, though frequently gathering for scripture chanting and making obeisance to the Three Primes (San Yuan - Heaven, Earth and Water Officials) or the Big Dipper stars, often seek merely disaster relief without comprehending the true essence of cultivating immortality and seeking the Dao.

Many people merely recite scriptures mechanically, yet few truly comprehend their profound meaning. Let us now carefully analyze the core essence of the "Three Primes" (referring to the Three Great Emperor-Officials of Upper, Middle, and Lower Primes).

Ordinary people assume the Three Primes are simply three imperial deities residing on Mount Yuntai, issuing commands from their Metropolitan Prefecture. Superficially, Mount Yuntai appears located in the North Sea, with the Metropolitan Prefecture serving as the administrative seat of these three sages. But such interpretation clings too rigidly to literal meaning, completely missing the sages' true intent to enlighten humanity.

In essence, these three sages share a single origin (Taiji, the Supreme Ultimate) and reside within every person's body. The scripture's "sea" refers to the ocean of wisdom, "Mount Yuntai" represents our spiritual core (the square-inch spiritual terrace), the "clouds" symbolize luminous wisdom manifesting in the heart, while the "Metropolitan Prefecture" denotes the body's marvelous energy centers. As Mencius said, "All things are complete within us" — the human body itself constitutes the most complete "Metropolitan Prefecture."

Specifically:

The Upper Prime corresponds to ninefold yang Qi, associated with the Wood phase of the Five Phases and spring season, hence its birthday falls in the first lunar month, embodying spring's vitality. Virtuously embodying benevolence, its function is bestowing blessings, governing the body's life-generating primordial Qi (the Qi of embryonic destiny).

The Middle Prime corresponds to sevenfold yang Qi, aligned with the Metal phase and autumn, with a seventh-month birthday. Representing righteousness and decisive judgment, its function is absolving transgressions, governing the soul's ethereal primordial Qi.

The Lower Prime corresponds to fivefold yang Qi, connected to the Water phase and winter, with a tenth-month birthday. Embodying wisdom, its function is dispelling calamities, governing the soul's corporeal primordial Qi.

These Three Primes actually reside within the body, corresponding respectively to the Muddy Pellet Palace (upper Dantian), the Dantian (middle elixir field), and the Cavern Chamber Palace (lower Dantian). Every thought and intention we generate is perceived by them, for human consciousness interconnects with them. Those who attain the Dao all receive recommendations from the Three Primes before assuming celestial offices — overseeing karmic retribution, examining cultivators' progress, and managing immortal registers.

Though these immortal scriptures have circulated for ages with countless devotees, few have ever elucidated their true meaning. Now I reveal these celestial secrets without reservation, earnestly guiding all practitioners to cultivate through proper methods. By aligning one's consciousness with the Three Primes through mental refinement, one attains genuine spiritual realization.

This scripture elucidates two core principles: first, that spiritual cultivation requires genuine comprehension of a classic's true meaning rather than mechanical recitation; second, that the sacred texts of sages often employ metaphors to convey profound truths.

The first half recounts the story of a monk named Fada, who recited the Lotus Sutra three thousand times yet could not explain its meaning when questioned by the Sixth Patriarch Huineng. The Patriarch pointed out that though his name meant "Dharma Attainment," he had not truly penetrated the Dharma—he was bound by the surface-level words of the text. Upon this revelation, Fada suddenly awakened, realizing that true recitation lies in skillfully applying the scripture’s teachings rather than being enslaved by its literal form. The Sixth Patriarch admonished all practitioners: when reading scriptures, one must "turn the scripture" (apply it with flexibility), not "be turned by the scripture" (cling to rote memorization).

The latter half discusses the expressive methods of sacred texts. When ancient sages composed works on truths difficult to articulate directly, they often resorted to metaphor. For instance, the Book of Changes (Yijing) uses "the dragon at the zenith has regrets" to illustrate how things decline after reaching their peak, "dragons battle in the wilderness" to symbolize intense conflict between Yin and Yang, and "a cartload of ghosts" to depict a state of hesitation. Such profound meanings require wise interpreters, like those who composed the Commentaries on the Images, to fully grasp.

The text mentions Lord Wenshi (Yin Xi), who, upon seeing purple Qi (vital energy) emanating from the east, recognized the arrival of a sage and thus encountered Laozi to receive the Daode Jing. Though this classic ostensibly discusses statecraft and military strategy, these are all metaphors—governing a state represents regulating body and mind, while warfare symbolizes conquering inner demons. Similarly, the Yijing speaks of "thunder striking down demonic forces," and the Yinfu Jing advises "sever the root of selfish desires"—both using concrete analogies to convey the essence of inner cultivation.

The scriptures of the Three Teachings (Daoism, Buddhism, Confucianism) all employ metaphors skillfully. Those who cling to literal interpretations misunderstand their true meaning. The truly wise discern the deeper truths behind these parables—just as military metaphors ultimately teach how to vanquish inner desires and shadowy demons of the mind.

This passage elucidates the Daoist dialectical principle of "things reversing upon reaching their extremes" (物极必反) and common misunderstandings about it.

The text observes: To contract something, one must first expand it; to weaken something, one must first strengthen it; to abolish something, one must first promote it; to take something, one must first give it—this is the natural order of operation. Like the last glow before sunset, the brief warmth before winter's arrival, the final clarity before death, or the last flicker before a lamp extinguishes, all follow the same principle. Yet people struggle most to comprehend these subtle transformations, failing to foresee approaching fortune or misfortune before events unfold.

The author critiques Confucian misinterpretations: Some mistakenly regard this as mere political strategy from the Warring States period's power struggles. The scripture's warning that "reconciliation of great enmity inevitably leaves residual resentment" precisely cautions against complacency in temporary peace while neglecting long-term considerations. As the Yijing (Book of Changes) states: "The noble person contemplates misfortune and prevents it beforehand."

Special clarification is given: Some erroneously associate this with the conflict between King Goujian of Yue and Wu Kingdom, though this classic predates their feud. Others falsely claim Daoism later evolved into Legalism, reducing Laozi's teachings to political manipulation—a gross slander. When Confucius consulted Laozi about rites, he afterward praised Laozi as "profound as the dragon." How could later Confucians, with their limited understanding, presume to comprehend Laozi better than Confucius himself?

Finally, the passage notes: Among dozens of commentators on the Daode Jing (道德经), even eminent Buddhist translators like Kumārajīva criticized Laozi for not explicitly discussing "mind." Yet the text's advice to "not display desirable things to keep the mind undisturbed" precisely teaches mind-guarding. When Laozi states "rites mark the waning of loyalty and trust," he isn't advocating ritual abolition but revealing how reliance on external ceremonies signals internal virtue's decline. This resonates with Buddhism's teaching that "the mind is originally pure but generates illusions through external conditions."

This addresses the fundamental issue of "ritual propriety." True ritual should be rooted in loyalty and sincerity, whereas what passes for ritual in the mundane world today is merely superficial ceremony. As ancient texts state: When ceremonies are elaborate yet lack substance, it reveals the weakening of loyalty and trustworthiness. Consider Wang Mang, the usurper of the Han dynasty—outwardly humble and respectful to scholars, yet inwardly scheming to seize power. Was this not the beginning of chaos?

The words of the Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Taishang Laojun, the highest Daoist deity) serve as a clear mirror for later generations. Yet worldly Confucian scholars mistakenly believe this critiques ritual propriety itself—is this not excessive? In my earlier studies of the Daode Jing, I often struggled to grasp its profound meanings. Though many commentaries exist since Heshang Gong (the Han dynasty annotator), most cling to partial views, with few truly elucidating its mysteries. Only after achieving spiritual realization through cultivation, through daily discussions with sages and immortals, did I finally comprehend its subtleties.

Now, taking this opportunity, I shall briefly explain a few points. I hope you will not imitate those worldly Confucian scholars who recklessly criticize, becoming unrestrained in your judgments. Where the scripture's words seem incomplete, contemplate them deeply—do not cling to literal interpretations. If one fixates on the text without understanding the original intent of the Supreme Venerable Sovereign's teachings, no wonder phrases like "abandon learning and there will be no sorrow" are misunderstood—Buddhists take it to mean no need for study, Confucians accuse it of discarding the classics, nearly reducing human virtue to that of oxen and horses.

If you disciples can trust my words without bias, relying on principle rather than clinging to phrases, depending on wisdom rather than mere knowledge, then through such inquiry you may fully explore the immortal scriptures, comprehend Buddhist sutras (referred to as "shell scriptures"), and find no contradiction with Confucian classics either.

Chapter 31 discusses the ritual of venerating the stars and constellations. Human life exists within the cosmos, receiving the Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth's Yin-Yang, formed by the essence and blood of parents. Whether noble or humble, all possess innate spiritual awareness—the seed of cyclical rebirth. Yet human destiny is truly governed by Heaven. Heaven's "Seven Administrators" (the sun, moon, and five planets: Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth) command the constellations, presiding over creation and acting as sovereigns of the human body. Lifespan, poverty or prosperity, fortune or misfortune—all are weighed and determined by them.

The movements of the Seven Administrators depend on the Mysterious Pivot and Jade Balance (ancient astronomical instruments symbolizing celestial laws) for regulation, ensuring no error. The mystery of this pivot and balance governs the four seasons and directs cosmic cycles. Thus, ancient sage-kings first charged Xihe (mythological astronomer) to observe the sun, moon, and stars, using the Mysterious Pivot and Jade Balance to harmonize the Seven Administrators. Later sages established spiritual teachings accordingly, creating star-veneration rituals to dispel calamities. Hence the Jade Pivot Scripture states: Performing this ritual in the stillness of night can avert the "three disasters and nine misfortunes" (various calamities).

This scripture expounds the Daoist practice of venerating the Northern Dipper Star Lords (the Big Dipper constellation deified as seven celestial lords). Initially, Lord Laozi (Taishang Laojun) transmitted the Authentic Scripture of the Five Dippers (Wudou Zhenjing) and the Dipper Mother Heart Scripture (Doumu Xinjing) in the Shu region, which later developed into dozens of liturgical rituals (Keyi) for Dipper veneration. However, most became either overly simplified or excessively elaborate.

The text particularly notes that Buddhist (Shimen) veneration methods surpass Daoist (Xuanmen) practices in refinement, especially the esoteric power of Sanskrit chanting. The author laments that most Dipper rituals circulating in the world retain only superficial ceremonial forms while lacking core secrets. A crucial revelation is shared: the true Northern Dipper resides not in the celestial Xuanji Palace, but within the human body. The internal "Jade Dipper" (Yudou) perpetually rotates within us, cycling ceaselessly from the Zi hour (11pm-1am) through the Hai hour (9-11pm).

The essential practice involves: First, through silent inner observation (neiguan), locate the body’s "Source Ocean Cavity" (Yuanhaiqiao - the Dantian), whence breath (Qi) can ascend directly to Kunlun (the crown of the head). By jointly cultivating the precious edicts (Baogao) of the Jade Emperor (Yuhuang) and Dipper Mother (Doumu - mother of the Dipper Lords), one refines the Golden Elixir (Jindan) and nurtures the infant (Yangshen - spiritual embryo). Advanced practitioners need only recognize their innate destiny stars within - the "White Jade Tortoise Platform" (Baiyu Guitai) being the spiritual terrace of the heart, while the "Xuanji Jade Mansion" (Xuanji Yufu) represents the heart-mind (Shen) that transforms the Qi of the five viscera.

Concluding with alchemical scripture (Danjing), the text illuminates: Why seek the celestial Zi-Wu positions (critical alchemical timings) in distant heavens when the moment of nascent Yang arises naturally within? Just as Yang energy stirs at midnight’s Zi hour, mirroring the Dipper’s rotation, sincere veneration during this sacred juncture captures the optimal moment for cultivation.

This scripture explains the Daoist practice of Star Veneration (paying homage to the Northern Dipper deities). Practitioners must first observe purification rituals and bathe to maintain physical and mental cleanliness before the ceremony. During quiet nighttime hours, they enter a dedicated Dipper Chamber (a meditation space consecrated to the Northern Dipper), eliminate distracting thoughts, and begin the ritual by clicking their teeth nine times.

When performing the veneration, one stands reverently facing north, visualizing the golden form of Tianmu (Doumu Yuanjun, the mother of all Northern Dipper stars) manifesting above, with the Nine Luminaries and two imperial lords attending at her sides, while celestial immortals form orderly rows around them. At this moment, all distracting thoughts must be abandoned to concentrate the spirit and calm the breath. The entire worship process requires utmost focus: the mind must achieve complete stillness, the breath must remain solemn and dignified, facial expressions should show proper reverence, vocal tones must be harmonious and rhythmic, and all movements—whether swift or slow, advancing or retreating—must conform to ritual protocols.

Whether performed at home, in a Daoist temple, alone or with fellow practitioners, this rigorous state of mind must be maintained throughout. The specific procedure involves: first paying homage to the stellar deities' sacred titles, followed by reciting Doumu's Heart Mantra. The text mentions over forty variations of Doumu's mantras, but transmits here the most essential Heart Mantra—"Namo ratna trayaya..." This esoteric chant is said to originate from Doumu's Heart Seal (core method), possessing inconceivable merits including dispelling heterodox paths, healing grave illnesses, repelling wild beasts, and resolving calamities.

The text also references another crucial mantra—the Northern Dipper Heart Mantra (not fully quoted)—emphasizing the practitioner's need for uninterrupted, sincere recitation. These mantras, through their specific phonetic vibrations, are believed to connect with the stellar deities' energies, representing a Daoist cultivation method that combines visualization practices with sacred recitation.

This scripture recounts the origin and efficacy of an important Daoist incantation—the Great Brahma Northern Dipper Heart Mantra (a mystical chant associated with the Big Dipper constellation). This mantra was transmitted by Taishang (referring to Lord Lao, one of Daoism's supreme deities) to practitioners, possessing formidable spiritual power.

Reciting this mantra achieves the following effects: it causes various demons and malevolent spirits to retreat in fear, dispels calamities brought by evil ghosts, cures stubborn illnesses, and neutralizes negative influences from baleful stars. When encountering unfavorable astrological periods or life hardships, sincere recitation can dissolve misfortunes. However, the key lies in maintaining a reverent and devout mindset to receive its spiritual response.

The text explains that the seven orifices of the face (eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth) connect with the inner heart, while a person's hun and po souls (ethereal and corporeal souls) maintain a profound relationship with the seven stars of the Northern Dipper. Above each person's head reside the Three Platforms and Northern Dipper deities (Daoist celestial beings) who record human virtue and vice. Benevolent individuals radiate reddish-yellow light above their heads, while evildoers emit dark qi (vital energy). Those who embody the Dao manifest particularly bright and towering radiance—though such light is visible only to divine beings, not ordinary people.

Though this practice cannot match the supreme effects of refining the Golden Elixir (Daoism's highest cultivation method), when cultivated alongside it, it aids in transcending the cycle of rebirth and attaining immortality. Much like how Buddhists chant Amitabha's name to reach the Pure Land, this too serves as a swift path to spiritual realization. The scripture particularly emphasizes that practitioners of the Nine Returns and Seven Reversions Great Elixir (an advanced Neidan/internal alchemy technique) who recite this mantra can more rapidly comprehend profound mystical states and awaken their spiritual luminosity.

This scripture conveys the Celestial Master's teachings on the essential principles of cultivation and realizing the Dao. It reveals that spiritual practice is not some lofty, unattainable pursuit, but manifests in the ordinary details of daily life. The Celestial Master first explains that his teachings consist of practical, accessible methods—practices that those of superior capacity can undertake, yet are equally suitable for practitioners of average or lesser aptitude. However, what appears simple often proves difficult to sustain. Just as even a three-year-old knows the maxim "Refrain from all evil, cultivate all good," a centenarian may still fail to embody it.

Practitioners must first establish a mind of right faith: Understanding that the three karmic actions of body, speech and mind should be purified, one becomes mindful of conduct and words; knowing heaven and earth deserve reverence, one maintains constant respect; serving one's ruler requires loyalty, so one remains dutiful; filial devotion to parents demands sincerity, thus it must come from the heart. Fraternal affection, marital harmony, friendship, and reverence for teachers—all must be grounded in integrity. Even when facing spirits, karmic consequences, or the teachings of sages, one preserves an attitude of unwavering devotion without deceit.

Next, one must cultivate steadfast resolve: Never begin with diligence only to lapse into laziness; avoid chasing after every new distraction. Let neither others' ridicule alter your principles, nor idle gossip shake your conviction. Never neglect good deeds because they seem small, nor indulge misdeeds because they appear minor. Neither impose artificial limits on yourself, nor seek instant results.

Finally, develop enduring perseverance: The Book of Changes warns that virtue not steadfastly maintained brings disgrace. A rope of a thousand feet can saw through trees; water dripping from eaves can pierce stone—both through constancy of effort. Tiny streams unceasing form great rivers; saplings left unremoved grow into massive trees—such are the effects of sustained accumulation. If one can maintain these three mental attitudes—right faith, steadfast resolve and enduring perseverance—and practice with unshakable determination, even the dull-witted may attain awakening, and the meek may become strong.

This Scripture of Joint Cultivation teaches that entering the Dao path is not difficult, and attaining immortality is not beyond reach. Through this scripture, one can dispel calamities, seek blessings, prolong life, and ultimately realize the true Dao to attain sagehood. This text synthesizes the essence of Confucianism and Buddhism, fully embodying the fundamental principles of the Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism).

Some pedantic Confucian scholars may criticize me, claiming I use Confucian thought to explain Buddhism and Buddhist thought to explain Daoism. This is because they fail to understand that the Three Teachings share the same origin. Thus, I draw upon Confucian classics, Buddhist scriptures, and Daoist texts to integrate their essential teachings, compiling this scripture to instruct disciples and future generations.

If you can wholeheartedly believe and practice these teachings, you will not only fulfill my aspiration but also honor the divine will that entrusted me to expound this scripture. After hearing this, the assembled immortals praised reverently and composed a hymn:

How magnificent is the Great Primordial Guide (referring to Lord Laozi)! He proclaims this treasure scripture of cultivation, using compassion to deliver beings in this degenerate age. Though worldly phenomena flow endlessly like the Ganges’ sands, the fundamental truth has existed since the dawn of chaos—the heavenly Dao’s principles are perfectly clear.

Cultivation begins with reverence: honor Heaven, serve parents with filial piety, maintain harmony among siblings, foster marital accord, keep faith with friends, and revere teachers and the Dao. These Five Constants (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness) form the foundation of practice. Internally, nurture Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit); externally, accumulate merit through virtuous deeds.

The Three Teachings share the same root—the principles of mind and nature cultivation apply equally to sages and ordinary people. Do not dismiss cause and effect as baseless; good and evil inevitably bear fruit. Both immortal scriptures and Buddhist texts make this abundantly clear. Do not foolishly slander the immortals and buddhas with reckless speech, lest you fall into hell’s torment. Those who awaken must swiftly repent and diligently practice according to the Celestial Worthy’s teachings.

The Great Dao of the Golden Elixir (Neidan internal alchemy) requires devoted study and extensive reading of Daoist texts. Yet the work of cultivation lies not afar—it resides within your own heart. Hearing these profound teachings from the immortal master fills me with joy. May beings in this Dharma-ending age realize: to transcend samsara, recite this scripture daily; upon illuminating the mind and realizing true nature, all matters will naturally reach perfection.

This scripture gathers the finest essence of the Daoist canon. To transcend the mundane and attain sagehood, devote yourself wholeheartedly to its practice. Realizing its wondrous principles is like polishing a bright mirror—ultimately, you return to your original, true face.

This scripture is divided into three main sections:

The first part depicts a sacred scripture lecture scene. After the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi Tianzun, the highest deity in Daoism) finished expounding the Tongcan Jing (Scripture of Unified Participation), his dharma throne rose amid celestial phenomena - heavenly flowers scattered, immortal fragrances filled the air, mysterious cranes cried out, and auspicious energies permeated the hall. The assembled disciples paid reverent homage, sincerely vowed to receive and practice the teachings, then respectfully departed.

The second section contains eulogies praising how the Tongcan Jing encapsulates the essence of numerous scriptures while revealing fundamental cultivation methods. Through devout worship of the stars, one can eliminate disasters and resolve difficulties, enabling all beings near and far to enjoy peace and prosperity.

The third part presents the postscript by Guang Ti, the compiler. Reflecting on his life past fifty, he confesses his limited understanding of Confucian sage teachings. During his mourning period for his mother, he began studying Buddhist and Daoist scriptures but only grasped superficial aspects. It wasn't until encountering the Tongcan Jing composed by Lü Dongbin (Imperial Lord Fu You) that he experienced sudden enlightenment.

The author regards this scripture as manifesting Lü Zu's compassionate intention to save all beings, serving as clear evidence of the common origin of Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism). The text first clarifies the dharma assembly's origins while revealing profound mysteries; then presents instructions for revering heaven and emulating earth, with methods for cultivating virtue to attain the Dao. It teaches purifying the three karmas (body, speech, and mind) to refine one's heart-mind, while practicing the five cardinal relationships to establish one's life purpose. It advocates preserving true nature and honoring virtuous conduct, comprehending principles and resolving doubts. When discussing Chan Buddhism, it points to the root of upward cultivation; when expounding Daoism, it reveals the mysterious passes and essential apertures. Throughout, it weaves the doctrine of karma while elucidating the classical significance of worshiping the Northern Dipper. The entire scripture's principles penetrate both subtle and coarse levels, with teachings thoroughly consistent from beginning to end - all aiming to help people understand the fundamental unity of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism.

This passage conveys the teachings of the Divine Lord (a Daoist honorific for high-ranking deities), explaining that Confucian practitioners should aspire to become true scholars, Buddhist disciples should strive to attain genuine enlightenment, and Daoist cultivators should dedicate themselves to authentic spiritual practice. The essential point lies in using the most sincere heart to comprehend fundamental truth and cultivate the purest practice. When one achieves single-minded concentration and complete integrity of inner and outer being, the realms of becoming a sage (Confucianism), a Buddha (Buddhism), or an immortal (Daoism) all become attainable. The concluding phrase "respectfully recorded" indicates the scribe's reverential notation.

The text emphasizes the universal key to spiritual practice across the Three Teachings: sincere single-mindedness. Whether pursuing the Confucian path of sagehood, the Buddhist journey to awakening, or the Daoist methods of immortality cultivation, all require a heart of undivided purity in practice. The term "zhenyi bu'er" (true singularity without duality) refers precisely to this state of cultivation—where the mind remains untainted by distracting thoughts in its pristine clarity.