Elixir and Liquid Gold as the Summit of the Immortal Arts

1 The Master Who Embraces Simplicity says: I have examined books on nurturing life and gathered methods for long life; the scrolls I have studied number in the thousands, and all hold the Reverted Elixir and Liquid Gold to be of chief importance. These two are the summit of the immortal way. If one takes them without becoming immortal, then no one since antiquity has ever become immortal. When the northern realm fell into disorder, people fled in every direction. I traveled through the provinces of Xu, Yu, Jing, Xiang, Jiang, and Guang, and met hundreds of wandering, displaced Daoists. Some had names I had long heard, exalted beyond the clouds and sun. Yet they were much alike: what they knew or did not know, whether deep or shallow, gave none the advantage over the others. Each had dozens of scrolls, but none could fully explain them; they had merely copied and stored them away. At times they knew methods of circulating breath, abstaining from grain, or taking herbal medicines. Their prescription books were substantially the same, and every one possessed the Scripture of the Mechanism of the Way, treating it as the highest secret and claiming that Yin Xi had written it. I told them, “This was written by Wang Tu, a military superintendent in the Wei era, not by an ancient sage.” Tu knew nothing of the great medicine; he merely wanted to seek immortality through breath circulation and secluded retreat. He wrote this Mechanism of the Way in the belief that the Way ended there: a particularly grievous way of misleading people. When I asked these Daoists about the divine elixir and liquid gold, and about the method in the Inner Texts of the Three Sovereigns for summoning heavenly gods and earthly spirits, not one knew anything of them. Nearly half boasted extravagantly, deceived others with claims of great longevity, or said they had traveled with immortals; those with whom one could discuss the subtlest things were exceedingly few. Some had heard a little of the golden elixir but did not believe anyone could still obtain it: they said only immortals who had ascended in high antiquity knew it. Others possessed extraneous accounts, but not the genuine scripture; others found scattered elixir recipes and assumed that was the whole art.Long ago Zuo Yuanfang contemplated deeply on Mount Tianzhu, and a divine being gave him the immortal scripture of the golden elixir. The disorder at the end of the Han left him no time to compound it; he crossed south of the Yangtze to escape the turmoil, intending to enter a celebrated mountain to practice the art. My granduncle, the Immortal Lord, learned it from Yuanfang. He received three scrolls of the Scripture of the Elixir of Great Purity, one of the Nine Tripod Elixir, and one of the Liquid Gold Elixir. My teacher, Master Zheng, was my granduncle’s disciple and likewise received them from him, but his family was too poor to buy the ingredients. I served him personally and swept his floors for a long time, until he erected an altar on Mount Maji and gave them to me under oath, together with oral instructions never written down. These texts had not existed east of the Yangtze before Zuo Yuanfang brought them. Yuanfang gave them to my granduncle, my granduncle to Master Zheng, and Master Zheng to me: that is why the other Daoists knew nothing of them. More than twenty years have passed since I received them; with no more than a pittance to my name, I cannot make the medicines, and can only sigh. Others have chests full of gold and mountains of coins, yet do not know the method for escaping death. Even if they heard of it, not one in ten thousand would believe it. Why? Taste a drink of jade nectar and you recognize how thin the flavor of common gruel; behold Kunlun and you see how low a little mound is. Once one has seen the way of the golden elixir, one no longer wants to look at petty prescription books. But the great medicine is not easily made at once; one must sustain oneself for the time being with lesser protections. Even ten thousand measures of other medicines may do some small good, but they can never give a person lasting life. Thus the secret saying of Laozi declares: “If you cannot obtain the Reverted Elixir and Liquid Gold, you torment yourself in vain.” The five grains can keep people alive: with them one lives, without them one dies. How much more must the divine medicines of the highest grade benefit people—ten thousand times more than grain! The longer a golden elixir is fired, the more wondrous its transformations. Gold survives a hundred firings without melting away; buried in the ground, it remains incorrupt until heaven itself ends. Taking these two substances refines the body, enabling one to escape age and death. One borrows an external substance to fortify oneself: just as fat sustains an unquenchable flame, or verdigris smeared on the feet keeps flesh from rotting in water, borrowing copper’s strength to protect it. The golden elixir enters the body and suffuses the vital and protective currents; it is more than verdigris applied externally.Most people in this world disbelieve the highest Way: the heedless multitude are all alike. Even when, once in ten thousand cases, a person with a genuine interest appears, if he never sees the method or meets an enlightened teacher, he cannot hear that such marvels exist. I now copy out an outline of the golden elixir for kindred spirits who come after me and love it. Let them seek it diligently, not cling to shallow, commonplace recipes and imagine these sufficient to transcend the world. If they still cannot encounter it, they must abandon their boundless hopes. Once they have glimpsed its teaching, they will know they have left a muddy puddle to float upon the vast sea, turned from a firefly’s flicker toward sun and moon, heard thunder and recognized the feebleness of a cloth drum, seen a giant whale and understood the smallness of a tiny shellfish. Those chattering people who have learned nothing first and hope unfailingly to soar upward on worthless drugs—how do they differ from riders urging a lame donkey to overtake a swift wind, or rowing a little boat across a great river? There are many recipes for lesser edible elixirs, but their preparation varies in depth and so their powers differ. The superior and inferior cannot approach each other, any more than wine fermented once can compare with the richness of wine fermented nine times. Yet even the lowest lesser elixir far excels the finest herb. Ordinary plants burn to ash, while cinnabar fired becomes mercury and, through successive transformations, becomes cinnabar again. How far it stands above ordinary herbs! Thus it can give long life. Only divine immortals have seen this principle: how immeasurably far beyond common people they are! People know little and find much strange. Some do not know that mercury comes from cinnabar; tell them, and they refuse to believe it: “Cinnabar is red; how can it yield something white? Cinnabar is stone, and all other stones we fire turn to ash. Why should cinnabar alone behave otherwise?” If they cannot grasp this close and simple matter, is it surprising that they hear of the immortal way and laugh aloud? The perfected beings of antiquity, moved by compassion for those yet to come who could be taught, formulated their methods, taking pains to free them from death. Their words are the utmost truth. Yet ordinary people refuse belief and call them empty writings. If they were empty, how could the nine cycles and nine transformations each be completed in precisely the number of days prescribed? How the perfected beings discovered this cannot truly be fathomed by commonplace thought.From youth I loved the arts of the formulae; I carried my pack on foot to ask questions and did not shrink from dangerous distances. Each unfamiliar teaching I heard was a delight; even when ridiculed, I did not grieve. Who knows whether those yet to come will not be like me? So I write this for people of understanding. Would I merely prize marvels and adorn empty words to spread a book through the world and gain the credence of the vulgar? The brightest sun cannot make dead wood flourish; the wisest person cannot change the lowest fool. A book is passed down for those who understand; a thing is prized by those who recognize it. A farmer given a vermilion bow uses it to scare birds; a southerner given a ceremonial robe carries firewood in it. How can the ignorant be compelled? People of the world eat their fill all day, yet cannot even necessarily devote themselves to Confucian and Mohist learning or the cultivation of virtue. They wander about idly to exhaust their years. All they pursue is honor or profit. Some fly falcons and race hounds over the plains; some linger over wine cups and steaming stews; some lose themselves among beautiful women and strings and flutes; some are consumed by luxurious silks; some wear out their sinews drawing bows; some waste their labor gambling and playing games. When they hear the highest Way they seem drunk; when they see a discourse on the Way, they sleep in broad daylight. Having a body, they will not cultivate it, but set it on the path to death. They will not ask how to nourish life, but seem bent on cutting, scorching, withering, and draining themselves. Those who possess the Way treasure their knowledge in secrecy and seek nothing from others: why should they force their teachings on them? The common saying goes: “If long life could be gained, the rich and noble of old would have gained it. None did; therefore there is no such Way.” They do not realize that the rich and noble of old were just like those of today. Both refused to believe or seek, and treated immediate desires as urgent; how could they have gained it? Even if one cannot decide to believe that life can be prolonged or immortality attained, why begrudge an experiment? If a modest success brought only two or three hundred years, would that not surpass the brief, early deaths of ordinary people? The affairs of the world are myriad, and the arts of the Way are harder to understand than any other. How can a mind of middling ability decide that the world holds no way to long life? If the disbelief of most people proves there is no such way, how extraordinarily wise must most people be! And if someone understands the purpose of the Way and still practices and seeks it, must that person be the very height of stupidity, inferior to everyone else? Or perhaps people fear that if they seek long life but fail, others will laugh at their delusion. But if their own judgment should be wrong, even once in ten thousand times, and a way to escape death truly exists, would not those who gained it laugh at them in turn? Even sun and moon cannot shine everywhere: how can one trust the human mind alone?

1 Baopuzi says: I have studied books on caring for one's nature and gathered methods for living long. The volumes I have read number in the thousands, and all treat reverted elixir and liquid gold as the essential things. These two, then, are the highest achievements in the way of becoming immortal. If someone takes them and does not become immortal, there have never been any immortals since ancient times. In the past, when the northern heartland fell into disorder, people fled in every direction. I traveled through several provinces, including Xu, Yu, Jing, Xiang, Jiang, and Guang, and met hundreds of ordinary Daoist practitioners who had been displaced. Some had once had a reputation reaching beyond the clouds and sun. But almost all were alike: what they knew, whether much or little or nothing, was not enough to distinguish one from another. Though each had dozens of scrolls, they could not fully understand them. They had simply copied and collected them. Some knew methods of circulating breath, abstaining from grain, and taking medicines made from plants and trees. The recipe books they owned were almost identical. Every one had the Scripture of the Mechanism of the Way, which they considered their greatest secret, and said that Yin Xi had written it. I told them, “This was written by Wang Tu, a military supervisor in the Wei period, not by anyone from antiquity.” Tu knew nothing at all about the great medicine. He wanted to become immortal simply through breath exercises and seclusion indoors. He wrote this Mechanism of the Way, claiming that it contained the whole way. This is a serious way to mislead people. I asked the Daoists about the divine elixir and liquid gold, and about the method in the Inner Writings of the Three Sovereigns for summoning the gods of heaven and earth. Not a single one knew anything about them. Most boasted, praised themselves, deceived people by claiming they had already lived for ages, or said they had traveled with immortals. Very few were worth discussing subtle matters with. Some had heard a little of the golden elixir but thought nobody alive today could obtain it. They said only immortals who had passed beyond the world in remote antiquity could know it. Some had learned things said about the recipe but did not have its authentic scripture. Others had obtained fragmentary elixir recipes and thought these covered all elixir methods. In the past, Zuo Yuanfang meditated intensely on Mount Tianzhu, and a divine being gave him the Immortality Scripture of the Golden Elixir. Because disorder broke out at the end of the Han, he had no time to make it. He fled across the river to the east, intending to seek a famous mountain and practice this way. My great-uncle, Lord Xian, received it from Yuanfang. Altogether he received three scrolls of the Scripture of the Elixir of Great Purity, one scroll of the Scripture of the Nine Tripod Elixirs, and one scroll of the Scripture of the Liquid-Gold Elixir. My teacher Master Zheng was a disciple of my great-uncle Lord Xian; he received them from him too, but his family was too poor to buy the ingredients. I personally served him and swept for him for a long time. Finally, on Mount Maji, I set up an altar, made a pledge, and received the scriptures, together with oral instructions that had not been written down. These books had not existed in the lands east of the river before. They came from Zuo Yuanfang, who gave them to my great-uncle; my great-uncle gave them to Master Zheng, who gave them to me. That is why the other Daoists know nothing of them. More than twenty years have passed since I received them, but I do not have even a modest supply of money and cannot make the medicines. All I can do is sigh. Others have chests full of gold and money piled like mountains, but they do not know this method for escaping death exists. Even if they heard of it, not one in ten thousand would believe it. Why? Whoever drinks a drink made from jade knows how thin the flavor of ordinary vegetable broth is. Whoever sees Kunlun knows how low a little mound is. After studying the way of the golden elixir, one no longer wishes to read minor recipe books. Still, the great medicine is hard to obtain and prepare at once, so in the meantime we must rely on lesser remedies to sustain ourselves. Taking ten thousand measures of other drugs may do a little good, but can never give a person lasting life. Thus a saying attributed to Laozi goes, “If you cannot obtain reverted elixir and liquid gold, you are only putting yourself through hardship for nothing.” The five grains can already keep people alive: with them people live; without them they die. How much greater must the benefit of the finest divine medicines be—surely ten thousand times that of grain? The longer golden elixir is fired, the more marvelous its transformations become. Gold does not disappear even after a hundred firings; buried, it will not decay until the end of the heavens. Taking these two substances refines the body, allowing a person to avoid aging and death. This means using something from outside to strengthen oneself. It is like oil feeding a fire so it cannot go out, or copper patina applied to the feet to keep them from rotting in water: the strength of copper protects the flesh. Golden elixir enters the body and permeates its vital circulation, unlike copper patina merely applied on the outside. Most people in the world do not believe in the highest way: nearly everyone is like that. Now and then someone takes an interest but cannot find this method or meet an informed teacher, and thus has no chance to hear that such a marvelous thing exists. Here I copy a short overall account of golden elixir to show those who share this interest in the future. Seek it diligently. Do not cling to superficial recipes and think them sufficient to transcend the world. If you never find it, you simply have to give up hope of living forever. Once you encounter its account, you will surely know that it is like leaving a muddy puddle to float on the open sea, turning away from a firefly's glow or a candle toward the sun and moon, hearing thunder and realizing how feeble a cloth drum is, or seeing a great whale and realizing how small a tiny shellfish is. Anyone who chatters on without first gaining access to this knowledge, hoping to rise to heaven with poor medicines, is like someone riding a lame donkey to catch a swift wind, or rowing a small boat across a great river. There are many recipes for lesser elixirs taken by mouth. Their preparation ranges from simple to complex, so their powers differ. Even among these grades, one cannot measure up to the next. Wine fermented once cannot compare to the rich flavor of wine fermented nine times. Yet even the lowest lesser elixir is far better than the best plant medicine. Plants turn to ash when burned, but cinnabar turns into mercury when heated, and with further changes turns back into cinnabar. It is far removed from ordinary plants and trees. That is why it can give people long life. Only the divine immortals understand this principle. How immeasurably far apart they and ordinary people are! People know little and find much strange. Some do not know that mercury comes from cinnabar. Even if told, they will not believe it. They say, “Cinnabar is red; how can it become something white?” Or, “Cinnabar is only a stone. All other stones turn to ash when heated. Why would cinnabar alone do otherwise?” They cannot grasp even this familiar, simple thing. No wonder they laugh loudly when they hear of the way of immortality. The realized people of antiquity took pity on those in future generations who could be taught. They created methods and took great pains to help them escape the disaster of death. Their words could truly be called the best possible guidance. Yet ordinary people refuse to believe and call the writings empty claims. If they were empty claims, how could the nine firings and nine changes, and the number of days required for each, all turn out just as the recipes say? Ordinary thinking cannot explain how realized people came to know this. When I was young I liked the arts of special methods. I carried provisions and went on foot to seek instruction, undeterred by dangerous or distant journeys. Whenever I heard something unusual, I was happy. Even when people insulted and laughed at me, I was not distressed. Who knows whether future people will not be like me? That is why I have written this for people who understand. Would I really prize strange things and dress up empty claims just to circulate a book in the world and win the trust of the crowd? The strongest sunlight cannot make dead wood flourish; the wisest person cannot change a complete fool. A book is passed down for people able to understand it; a practice is valued by those who recognize it. A farmer who receives a red ceremonial bow uses it to drive off birds; a southerner who receives ceremonial robes uses them to carry firewood. How can one force understanding on those who do not have it? People spend entire days eating their fill. They may not even work hard at Confucian or Mohist learning, or pursue the business of improving their character. They just wander about together until their days run out. They seek either status or profit. Some go hunting with hawks and dogs across the plains; some linger over cups of wine while their stew bubbles; some lose themselves among beautiful women and instrumental music; some become absorbed in fine silk clothing; some strain their bodies drawing bows; some waste their time playing board games. Hearing of the highest way leaves them as uncomprehending as a drunk; when they see discussions of it they fall asleep in broad daylight. They have bodies but do not cultivate them. Every action takes them closer to death. They refuse to inquire into methods of caring for life. Instead, they seem bent on cutting their bodies up, cooking them, wearing them out, and draining them dry. Those who know the way, meanwhile, guard their knowledge in secret and want nothing from others. Why would they insist on telling them? People commonly say that if long life could be obtained, the rich and powerful of old would have obtained it. Since none did, they conclude there is no such way. They do not realize that the rich and powerful of old were just like those of today. They neither believed nor sought it; all were concerned with their immediate desires. How could they possibly obtain it? Even if you cannot commit to believing that your allotted life can be extended and immortality achieved, why not try? Suppose the trial has only a small effect and gives you two or three hundred years. Would that not be better than the short lives of ordinary people? There are countless matters in the world, and the methods of the way are especially hard to understand. How can someone of ordinary intelligence decide that no way of lasting life exists in the world? If the disbelief of most people proves there is no such way, are most people really so intelligent? And are people who understand something of the way and still seek to practice it necessarily complete fools, inferior to everybody else? Some people also worry that if they seek long life and do not obtain it, others will laugh at their ignorance and confusion. But if their firm judgment should be wrong, and a way to avoid death really does exist, wouldn't those who obtain it laugh at them? Even the sun and moon cannot shine everywhere. Why trust the human mind alone?