2

IS IMMORTALITY POSSIBLE?

When we look into antiquity, in almost every culture—from the Highlanders in Scotland to the early Greeks, the yogis of India, the Taoists of China, the Buddhists of Tibet, and the Maya of South America—we find examples and tales of immortals. How is it that throughout history so many great writers and people of wisdom have come to accept the reality of immortality and immortals? Could every one of them have been a fool prone to whimsical fancy? I think not.

I chose to begin this book with Ko Hung’s account of immortals because it is an honest approach to the subject and I feel it gives the best overview of how to perceive the notion of cultivating toward immortality. His main point, which I agree with, is that just because you don’t see something, it shouldn’t be considered nonexistent. There are many things in our lives—such as God and love—that we can’t physically hold in our hands and show someone else, yet we can believe adamantly that they exist. This is even true, for instance, of mountain gorillas. This species was considered nothing more than a myth until it was discovered in the early 1900s. “The Immortals,” by Ko Hung, makes several strong cases for why we should believe in immortality and immortals.

The following translation was taken from chapter 2 of the Nei P’ien (Inner Chapters) of the Pao P’u Tzu, written by Taoist Master Ko Hung (A.D. 284–363). Ko Hung’s book is the first, and most extensive and honest, account of a Taoist in search of immortality. Written during the Sung dynasty, his words ring true for modern-day Taoists as well.

The name Pao P’u Tzu (meaning “the philosopher Pao P’u”) came from what Ko Hung’s neighbors had called him: “Embracing Simplicity” (Pao P’u), because he spoke little and did not care for many of the social and community events. He chose to write his works under this name.

In Ko Hung’s Pao P’u Tzu Wai P’ien (Outer Chapters), he wrote, in A.D. 320, that his given name was Ko Chih Ch’aun and that he was born and raised near the city of Nanjing in Chu-Jung. His studies of Confucianism and Taoism began at an early age. Even though he was born into an educated and prosperous family, he had little ambition to follow in their footsteps, and so lived his life in abject poverty. This was not a matter of having to live this way; he chose it, for on several occasions he was offered posts within the government but declined because he feared it would interfere with his studies.

Much of his Taoist influence came from his uncle Ko Hsuan, a Taoist priest who achieved infamy because of his skills in breath control. Reportedly, he would meditate at the bottom of a pool for hours on end. Ko Hsuan also wrote several short commentaries on Taoist classics, the most popular of which were appended to the Tranquillity Classic.

Ko Hung reveals that his main teacher was the Taoist priest Cheng Yin. Cheng Yin was a disciple of Ko Hsuan. From Cheng Yin the young Ko Hung received secret methods for creating the Pill of Immortality. Ko Hung admits that these methods could never be understood just from the writings and must be transmitted from teacher to student. Ko Hung also claims that the secret transmission of these methods can occur through direct contact with the teacher, through dream visions, and through dedicated study and practice, whereupon a true teacher will appear before the student.

Ko Hung studied with and became a disciple of Cheng Yin while living in the Ma-Chi Mountains (in the northeast of Jiangxi province). Cheng Yin was of the lineage of the famous Taoist alchemist Tso-tz’u. Through this lineage Ko Hung received three books, which actually form the basis of his Pao P’u Tzu Wai P’ien. These books were Chiu Tan Ching (The Nine Elixirs Classic), Chin Yin I Ching (Classic on Forming Potable Gold), and Huang Pai Chung Ching (The Mean of the Yellow and White Classic). Ko Hung claimed the methods and recipes contained in these three books were successfully applied by Cheng Yin and Tso-tz’u on Mount T’ung, in Lu-Chiang.

Ko Hung was an avid writer, spending many years in solitude creating his work. His Pao P’u Tzu was written in two parts, the inner chapters (Nei P’ien) and the outer chapters (Wai P’ien). The inner chapters contain twenty scrolls and deal with Taoism and alchemy. The outer chapters contain fifty scrolls and deal with Confucianism and morality. Combined with his poetry and inscriptions of another hundred scrolls, his Spiritual Immortals, his autobiography, and all his commentaries on the Five Classics, Ko Hung wrote more than three hundred scrolls. He was the first Taoist writer who viewed attaining immortality more in terms of an actual science than as a purely philosophical or mystical approach. Ko Hung was for the most part an adherent of the southern branch of Taoist alchemy, a lineage closely connected to the traditions of the Three August Ones, San Huang Wen, which found its heritage within Han Taoism and its belief in the immortals (hsien). In this tradition, corporeal immortality was achieved through various esoteric practices of alchemy and magic.

Ko Hung was famous not only as an alchemist and Taoist master, but also as a semi-Confucian moralist, socialist, physician, martial artist, and pharmacist. This unique combination of skills and learning is remarkable yet understandable, as Taoist alchemy depended on and was greatly developed from early Chinese medical traditions, as well as from Taoist and Confucian philosophy. Hence, especially in the Pao P’u Tzu Nei P’ien, we encounter a blending of beliefs in physical immortality, magical ceremonies, astrology, medicine, and pharmacology (both herbal and mineral). But Ko Hung doesn’t limit himself to just these subjects; his writings have a strong backdrop of both skepticism and independent rationalism. Without question he was a freethinker. He mocks and rejects much of the standard folk beliefs and superstitions of his time, opposing Confucian scholasticism and many of the common people’s social conformities and prejudices.

Over the years I have read and studied the Pao P’u Tzu more times than I can actually remember; it keeps coming back into my studies with each book I write. Ko Hung’s manner of writing and his honesty have always attracted me. Most Taoist works are cryptic, written in the language and experience of the mystic. Ko Hung writes as a man—a man on a journey and a mortal searching for immortality. I can think of no other classic Taoist work that approaches this subject with as much clarity, openness, and honesty as does the Pao P’u Tzu.

Many early translations of Chinese classics were completed by Christian and Catholic missionaries or scholars, so the attempt to equate Taoist teachings with their own was often made. Despite this, the efforts of these translators were pioneering, to say the least. The only full translation of the Pao P’u Tzu that I am aware of was completed by James R. Ware, and was first published in 1966, with a 1981 version from Dover Publications titled Alchemy, Medicine, and Religion in the China of A.D. 320: The Nei P’ien of Ko Hung. Despite Ware’s obvious Christian influences, apparent from his references to Tao meaning “God” and immortals being classified as genies, the book is well worth reading.

One of the most difficult aspects of the Pao P’u Tzu is Ko Hung himself. Within his writings he states that everything he presents is straightforward and true, yet he denies having attained immortality or having ever met an immortal. He even calls himself lazy and not bright enough for these teachings. Without question he is being a Taoist’s Taoist, using humility and self-proclaimed ignorance to protect himself. Yet within his Pao P’u Tzu there is more than ample evidence of his accomplishments.

“There are no miracles, just unknown laws of nature.”

—Saint Augustine

The section of the Pao P’u Tzu I provide here is Ko Hung’s explanation of immortals and why we should believe in them. As I mentioned earlier, tales of ancient immortals exist not only in China but also in almost every other culture—including the Norwegians, the Sufis of Persia, the Native Americans, and the Aborigines of Australia. Why should we discount every one of these as false? Were all these ancestors and cultures completely insane or deluded? “There are no miracles, just unknown laws of nature,” wrote Saint Augustine, and this is in keeping with Taoist thought, which states that everything we need for achieving immortality openly lies either within nature or within ourselves. We have only to discover and recognize it. Let us, then, discover what Ko Hung has to say on the matter:

“The Immortals”

from the Pao P’u T’zu Nei P’ien by Ko Hung

QUESTIONER: Can anyone really believe there are such things as immortals?

KO HUNG: No matter how good your eyes are, not every object can be seen, and no matter how good your hearing, not every sound can be heard. Even if we had the enormous feet of Ta Chang and Shu Hai, the vast lands still untrodden, could never be walked upon. Even if we had all the incredible intelligence of Yu the Great’s ministers, Yi and Ch’i Hsueh, it could never equal that of our ignorance of things.

What, then, is there that does not exist within all of creation? Why should it then be that immortals, whose biographies fill our books, do not really exist? Why should there be no divine method for becoming an immortal?

The one thing mankind constantly undergoes is discovery, a never-ending process of both discovering new things and rediscovering old things. Actually, if we think about this in connection with modern-day science, until every subatomic particle and the exact calculations of the universe are discovered and accounted for, humankind will always be in a state of making new discoveries. There is a constant flow of uncovering things we previously thought did not exist. For centuries man wanted to fly. Many claimed throughout history to have done so, but not until the Wright brothers did we all come to believe. Just seventy-five years ago everyone thought mountain gorillas and snow leopards were merely myths, but now we know them to exist. Fifty years ago we thought Dick Tracy’s radio watch was just comic-book fantasy, but look around now and see the millions of tiny cell phones being used. The examples go on and on.

Ko Hung is correct in asking his questions. First, there is nothing that does not exist within all of creation. Whatever can be imagined can come to exist; this is one of the absolute laws of human nature. Once we discover the law, the miracle can become commonplace. Is not electricity a good example of this?

Second, isn’t it curious that almost every culture in history has tales and records of immortal beings? Can we not see that modern medical science, under the veil of improving human health conditions, ultimately seeks immortality? Ancient people had as much or more wisdom as do modern scientists. Why should we doubt the ancients on the existence of immortals and the process for attaining immortality? Do we really believe they were making it all up? This would be a huge mistake, because if we look at the very origins of modern science, we find it derives from the ideas and workings of the ancient alchemists. Hence, we should be very careful not to dismiss the importance of these ancients and what they professed to have discovered. In the larger picture of life, we are merely attempting to rediscover something that had been discovered long ago.

QUESTIONER [LAUGHING IN RESPONSE]: Whatever has a beginning surely has an ending; whatever exists surely perishes. Even the sages like the Three August Ones, the Five Emperors, Confucius, and the Duke of Chou all died, as did those technicians Hou Chi, Shu-li Chi, Chang Liang, and Ch’in P’ing, and even the stalwarts Meng Pen, Hsia Yu, and King Shu’s five workmen. Death is a certainty to the human condition, an unavoidable point that all of us are certain to reach.

I have learned that after a frost there is a drying up and perishing; things of summer lose their freshness; when grain fails to produce a head there will be no flour; leaves of a flower wither before the fruit is formed. But I have never heard of any man enjoying a thousand years of life, or anyone who had experienced timeless vision. This is why ancient men never learned in their studies about seeking the goal of immortality, and they never discussed such strange occurrences.

Anything unusual was dismissed at its very inception, and only those things considered natural were preserved by them. Aside from the tortoise and crane, which are special kinds of creatures famous for their longevity, the ancient men still felt that life and death are certainly short term.

To eat out your own heart or to constrain yourself to performing unprofitable acts is like engraving on ice or carving on rotten wood; neither can have lasting success. It is best to plan things with the counsel of those in high knowing positions in order to protect our era and to induce good fortune for the present time. How wonderful it is to have the purples and greens entwined about the black bull, caparisoned like a dragon!

To have the dragon-ornamented carriage to replace having to be quick of foot! To have the sacrificial cauldron for concocting something that will replace the work of plowing! I frequently think of the section in The Poems where farming and festivals are described, but as well I think seriously of Confucius’s insight that all things die.

On the other hand, action that is perfect freedom grasps shapeless winds; it seizes hard-to-embrace shadows; it seeks something unattainable; it travels a road that is sure to lead nowhere.

To reject the comforts of civilized life brings only hardship and distress, relinquishing the easy only to strive for the most difficult. Just as the man at the mulberry tree pursued one woman but allowed another woman to roam about alone surely regretted his double loss.

Shen Pao and Cheng Yi sought quick success by incorporating one-sided action, but the result was a disaster of the externals for the former and of the internals of the latter. We should not expect Pan Shu nor Mo Ti to be able to sharpen a tile or stone into a needle point, as they were only experts with ladders and kites. The metalworker Ou Yeh could not have cast tin or lead into another Kan-Chiang sword. Hence, even ghosts and gods cannot perform the impossible. Nature itself cannot achieve the unachievable.¹ So where in the world could a miracle recipe be formulated for restoring youthfulness to the aged and life to those who are dying? Yet you wish to prolong the longevity and life span of even the cicada. You wish to nourish the beauty of the morning mushroom to keep it growing for months on end. How misguided! The person who attempts to augment the old schools will soon revert back to them in his confusion.

KO HUNG: When a man loses his hearing, he has no awareness of the sound of even thunder; when his sight is gone, he cannot be made to see the sun, moon, and stars. Are you telling me that the rumblings and peals of thunder are mere whispers or that the illuminations in the sky are dim? The deaf man insists, however, that there are no such sounds, and the blind man likewise insists that there is nothing in the sky. How can these people ever come to enjoy the harmonic sounds of woodwinds or stringed instruments, or the brilliant figures interwoven into fine clothing? How can they appreciate the refined harmonies of the skilled tuner and the iridescence of the luminaries in the sky? Therefore, if the deaf and blind, who are right in the midst of these tangible things, claim no validity of either thunder or the illuminations in the heavens, they will believe even less in things far more subtle. Ignorance confuses the spirit of a man’s heart and mind. He will not even believe the Duke of Chou or Confucius existed in the distant past; even less could he believe anything about spirits and immortals.

One need not go to the wilderness of China to understand Kung Ho’s point. For example, this is reminiscent of a piece of dialogue the actor William Holden made in a movie called The Earthling. In the film he plays an older man with cancer who wishes to die in the outback of Australia. On his journey he comes across a young boy who had experienced a plane crash and the loss of his parents. The boy is all alone and lost, and Holden decides he must help him. But the journey back to civilization is too long, so he decides he will teach the boy how to survive in the outback as he makes the trek to his chosen place of death. During this journey there is a scene that relates quite well with what Ko Hung is saying. The man and boy are standing by a stream, and the boy is agitated by the silence of the forest around him. Holden, in a very gruff tone, responds (in paraphrase), “What, you don’t hear the babbling of the stream over there? You don’t hear the chirping of all the birds? You don’t hear the leaves rustling in the wind? You don’t hear the rodents scurrying about the forest floor? Damn it, boy, there is an orchestra playing for you and you haven’t heard a thing.” The problem is that we humans are so distracted by our own cravings that we have no concept of things around us or within us.

KO HUNG: It is certain that life and death, beginnings and endings, make up the grand framework of life, but there are many variations within these. Whatever one man affirms, another will deny it. Within creation there are a myriad of changes and transformations that occur. Whatever any single object may seem to be on the surface, its function may be hidden and disguised. The roots of any tree may seem well balanced, but the branches may be deviant. We simply cannot treat all things identically.

This is like a story of a man who erected a statue in honor of his grandfather, a former Civil War hero. The grandson, being a prominent and respected businessman in the town, thought this would be a way to establish his family name forever within the community, and would give the town a good sense of its own history. However, when the city accountants saw the plans for the statue, they objected because of the high cost involved. When the city attorney saw the plans, he objected because he thought children might climb on it, fall, and get hurt and then sue the city. When the mayor saw the plans, he wanted to know what political affiliation the hero had before giving his blessing. When the local clergy saw the plans, they objected because the hero had a sordid past and they thought it would not provide a good example to the city youth.

This story reveals a truth of human nature: Depending on a person’s agenda and position, he will look at and respond to any idea from his own narrow view of self-importance and personal experience. Thus, even though immortality has strong roots within history, the various branches of society that have no experience with the concept find it easy to deny it.

KO HUNG: The majority of human beings know that what begins must also end. But we cannot derive a universal principle by simply placing certain facts together and then giving all things the same equal weight. It is said that in summer growth is ensured, yet this is when wheat and a shepherd’s pocketbook are depleted. It is said that in winter fading is ensured, yet this is when bamboo and pines flourish. It is said that beginnings must have endings, yet Heaven and Earth never perish. It is said that all living things must die equally, but the tortoise and the crane enjoy great longevity. In the middle of summer it should be hot, but even summer is not without some cool days. Midwinter is always cold, yet even within its severest cold there are intervals of warmth. Rivers normally flow and empty to the east, yet there are streams that flow north. The stillness of the earth is the foremost quiescence, yet there are times when even the earth trembles and quakes. Water is naturally cool, yet there are hot springs that warm the valleys. Fire is thought to always burn, but the cold flames of Wormwood Hill do not. Heavy things sink, yet in the sea to the south there is a mountain whose rocks float.² Items of light weight can be suspended, but in Tsang-k’o there is a stream in which even feathers sink. Creation in its entirety cannot be perceived with just one standard—this has been the truth throughout the ages.

We might want to think that death is inevitable, but can we really deny the possibility of immortality? So much within nature constantly amazes us; scientists are forever discovering things we thought impossible to imagine even fifty years ago. For example, do you believe that there is a modern-day community of people who lived well over 150 years of age, and who fathered and mothered children at a hundred years of age? In the early 1900s the people of what was called Hunzaland in the former Soviet state of Georgia did accomplish these feats of longevity. When scientists went in to study them, they at first thought the residents might have had some secret herbal formula, or that their long lives had something to do with the type of vodka they drank. But neither of these proved to be the cause. What the scientists finally discovered was that a freak anomaly had affected the water the people were drinking. Normally, water is just H₂O, but it can range from H₁O through H₁₈O, with H₁₈O being the rarest. This occurs because of a strong magnetic pull on certain portions of the earth, and according to the studies this magnetic pull lasted for about three hundred years in Georgia. Efforts to ship the water elsewhere were futile, for once it left the magnetic pull the oxygen changed. This situation could not be re-created artificially.

So all these stories we have heard in fairy tales and history books about a fountain of youth is really not that far-fetched. Indeed it may be absolutely true, for we know not when some area of the earth and the water there will again be affected the way Hunzaland once was, or even if there are areas now with H₁₈O. If it is possible, then, for people to achieve this type of longevity just from water, can we deny that people of great wisdom and learning did not discover some formula for acquiring the secret to immortality? Our history books record Ponce de León’s quest for the fountain of youth. Though we regard the fountain itself as myth or fable, there is probably more truth to why he believed such a thing existed than what is represented by the textbooks. Is every tale of immortality false simply because we have not discovered its secret?

KO HUNG: Of all living things, none possesses the intelligence of humans. We might expect such “lofty” creatures to be of one uniform type, but—given the differences in moral perfection and satiation of desires, perverseness and righteousness, purity and impurity, chastity and prurience, poise and tension, sluggishness and alertness—human beings differ, just as heaven and earth or ice and hot coals differ from one another. So why do we find it amazing that immortals are different in that they do not die as common mortals do?

All of us are different; we live differently and we die differently. When I was a teenager one of my best friends was involved in a terrible car accident. He was actually pronounced dead for twelve minutes but was revived. During the Vietnam War a soldier was pronounced dead by a team of medics, and was put in a body bag and sent back to the United States. But when the body bag was opened, the soldier was found to be alive. There are countless folk-tales of poor families in New England during the early 1800s who were unable to feed Grandma and Grandpa during the winter months, so the elders were given large quantities of moonshine and then placed in coffins and buried within a snowbank, only to be revived again in the spring. There are many tales of people dying, only to come to life again. Why do we consistently disbelieve this? Is this not also true of Jesus? Why would a culture adopt a religion based on resurrection, yet be adamant about not believing it could occur with other human beings?

During the 1970s Dr. Moody, in his best-selling book Life After Death, provided numerous documented cases of such “resurrections.” Why is it so hard to believe that Ko Hung’s uncle Ko Hsuan could sit at the bottom of a pool for hours on end? Why can’t we believe that immortality is attainable and immortals exist? Should we just throw out all these examples, including Jesus, as myth?

KO HUNG: The claim that all creatures that breathe follow the same fixed norm is a theory that cannot be upheld. The pheasant turns into a spirit oyster (Yueh Ling), the sparrow becomes a clam, earthbound bugs acquire wings, river frogs fly, oysters change into frogs, hsing ling plants become maggots, field mice become quail, rotting grass turns into lightning bugs, alligators become tigers, and snakes become dragons.

When we go back to ancient alchemical practices, we come across such transformational statements as these. Like the caterpillar undergoing metamorphosis into a butterfly, all living things transform. Therefore, Ko Hung explains, all things that breathe, be they animal or plant, follow not simply a fixed norm of birth and death but rather a continuum of mutation.

KO HUNG: The claims [by the Confucians] that human beings, which are unlike any other living creature, have an undeviating nature and are not subject to unsuspected changes by the destinies bestowed upon them by the August Heaven are erroneous. If this were true, how can we account for instances where Niu Ai became a tiger, the woman of Ch’u a tortoise, the Hunchback (from Chuang Tzu) a willow, the girl of Ch’in a stone, the dead who came back to life, males and females who interchanged sex, and Old Peng who enjoyed great longevity but yet a baby boy can die prematurely? If such divergences exist as these, what type of limits can we really affix to humanity?

The idea of transmogrification has always existed in China and in the rest of Asia. In the previous passage Ko Hung attempts to clarify that even heaven cannot fully provide an undeviating appearance or dictate unusual changes occurring in a person. Peng-tzu (Old Peng) is said to have lived for more than eight hundred years, but a child can die prematurely. Why such divergence in life spans? We cannot assume that there is some rule governing life spans, nor can we believe the same about the changes a person might undergo.

The people mentioned above were actually quite famous in Ko Hung’s time and he is drawing examples from various works, such as Ssu-ma Chien’s Book of History and the Chuang Tzu. Of these people, the most famous in Chinese history is Old Peng (Peng-tzu), the Chinese Methuselah, who reportedly lived for more than eight hundred years sometime during the Shang dynasty (2205 B.C.–1154 B.C.). References to this immortal are found in the older works of The Book of History, Immortal Biographies, Chuang Tzu, and Lieh Tzu.

KO HUNG: If an immortal nourishes his body with medicaments and prolongs his life span with special arts, illness will not arise in him, nor will external diseases invade him. Though he attains everlasting vision and does not die, the body, which he has lived with for so long, undergoes no change. Achieving all this is not difficult, provided the correct divine alchemical process is acquired first. However, those with shallow minds are strongly attached to conforming to more popular views and maintaining an ordinary life. They do so because they have not met an immortal and therefore think they do not exist.

But we must ask, What is unique about what the eyes have not seen? Why would anyone think that there is a limit to the marvels existing between heaven and earth or within the vastness of Tao? Our entire lives we see the sky over our heads but never know what is beyond it. We walk on the earth without knowing what is beneath it. Even our bodies, our sole possessions, never come to truly understand our hearts or minds of our true selves. Each person has an allotment of time for his or her life, but no one is actually sure how it is determined or measured. Likewise, we live ignorant of the true workings and existence of spirits and immortals, as well as the mysteries shrouding the Tao and how to live in the naturally just so. Isn’t it sad that some people only rely on mere external confirmation through the eyes and ears to determine the actual existence of things, shunning anything subtle or marvelous or beyond their perceptions?

This is an extremely broad statement by Ko Hung. We must pay close attention to the first portion, “If an immortal nourishes his body with . . .” It doesn’t say, “If you want to be an immortal, nourish your body with . . .” The implication here is that there are various medicines (formulas) and arts (exercises) that prevent the immortal from contracting disease and illness, and hence protect his body from change and decay. Ko Hung then goes on to say that this state is not difficult to achieve if you first acquire the correct divine alchemical process. I had read the Pao P’u Tzu many times before this sentence caught my attention. All the herbal formulas and special yogalike exercises are designed for those who are already immortals, but these practitioners achieved immortality through a divine alchemical process.

This really provided me with a great insight, because if we look at the history of all these various means for achieving immortality, like those we see associated with Tao Yin and circulating qi exercises, the creation of these methods are more often than not credited to an immortal. This begs the question: Is there a separate divine alchemical process we must undertake to attain immortality before these other exercises can be effective? In another light, are the Tao Yin and circulating qi exercises useless to common mortals?

The answer to these can best be answered by the advice I received from my teacher, Master T. T. Liang, who told me, “The old Taoist books show the end result of a lifetime of work; they are not something one reads and simply begins performing. They are the result of achieving tranquillity, breath control, and refinement of the three primal energies.” Adding that receiving the divine alchemical process occurs in one of three manners, “an accomplished teacher who has possession of the ‘Pill of Immortality’ gives it [either the mineral formula or the herbal formula] to you; an immortal comes to you in your dreams or tranquillity and confers immortality upon you [symbolically through eating a peach of immortality]; or, and the most probable, you imitate the exercises of the immortals in hopes of Leaping Over the Dragon Gate.” This last statement is a common Taoist and Buddhist saying. It depicts a fat and heavy carp (symbolic of mortals) attempting to leap from the water (the world as we know it) up and over a gate guarded by dragons (representing the separate realms of the mortals and immortals). So receiving the divine alchemical process can be acquired as well by one’s personal efforts by imitating the immortals, all in hope that it will give us enough spiritual energy to make that final leap over the dragon gate. As Master Liang would humorously comment, “Once your foot is in the door, they [immortals] have to let you in.”

The majority of popular Taoist and qiqong books associated with exercises like Tao Yin and internally circulating qi through the Lesser Heavenly Circuit (up the back and down the front of the body) are misleading when they don’t state that circulating the qi through the subtle meridians can only occur after long, disciplined effort. The divine alchemical process, or as some Taoists call it, “Creating the Immortal Fetus,” is not unlike the process of creating a physical pregnancy. Physical pregnancy requires several things: the sex act itself, fertile eggs in the female, fertile sperm in the male, and the effort of a sole sperm cell that strives its way to attach to a fertile egg. Beyond this event there are numerous other conditions that must be met in order to actually bring a child to full term. This event of creating a physical child is, to be cliché, a true miracle. So too in the divine alchemical process for immortality there exist criteria, and the process itself is just as miraculous. We must discipline and develop our ching and qi to the extent that together they act like a fertile spiritual sperm cell, making its way through the Jenmo and Tumo channels (up the spine and down the front of the body, respectively), and doing this nine times in succession so that it can become tangible and attach itself into the tan-t’ien. When this occurs, the immortal fetus is created and then we go through a stage, in analogy, that is like a spiritual pregnancy.

Are the exercises associated with Tao Yin and circulating the qi useful? The answer is yes. But these exercises must be tempered with the advice that the underlying purpose is to give you enough spiritual energy to get you in front of the Dragon Gate and to make the attempts to leap over it. Once over the gate, the exercises have a true purpose and real efficacy.

So what is the correct divine alchemical process? How should one begin the process? The answer to this question is not easy, as I myself am just a carp looking up at the great height of the Dragon Gate, mustering up my energy to leap from the safety of my watery environment. The first step is to achieve tranquillity. If we listen very closely to what all the great Taoist teachers have said, we find that the correct divine alchemical process is more often than not bequeathed by immortals to those who enter perfect tranquillity. There are many stories of how an immortal went to people who achieved this state and provided them with their particular needs for becoming immortal. But as my teacher told me, “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take the medicaments or do the exercises. If you’re lucky, maybe the immortals will think you’re worthy enough for them to come and help you. Nonetheless, the medicaments and exercises are good for mortals too. At worst you will be healthy and gain longevity.”

To sum this all up, we do the exercises in order to improve our health (so we are strong enough to leap the Dragon Gate) and to increase our longevity (so we have more time and opportunities for the leap). Although all the exercises are good for health and longevity, they carry no guarantee of attaining immortality. The only way to attain immortality is by either leaping the Dragon Gate of your own efforts or by an immortal giving you the Pill of Immortality or the Peach of Immortality. Once you accomplish either of these, then you are at the place where the divine alchemical process Ko Hung is talking about may occur.

KO HUNG: Let’s examine an individual, of great intelligence and ability, who prefers living peacefully and without any standard employment. Hiding his true light, keeping his self-cultivation work concealed, he avoids all false pretenses and bothersome reliance on others, relying instead on his own natural talents within an untarnished environment. He pays no attention whatsoever to the petty affairs and pursuits of the masses.

This is just like the immortal Li Ching Yun, who lived for more than 250 years, passing away in China in 1936. He was adamant his whole life about not living in cities and mingling with hordes of people, claiming this would bring about an untimely death. In 1936 he consented to give interviews and speak to audiences in Wanhsien; he stayed for one month. Shortly thereafter he died. As we can see, paying attention to the petty affairs and pursuits of the masses is not something immortals are eager to do.

There are activities and pursuits people in certain positions should not be involved in. As an old Chinese adage goes, “A man should be as afraid of fame as a pig should be afraid of being fat.” Why? Fame brings about envy and hate in others, and so everything about you is held under close scrutiny and made public. The anxiety and trouble this causes you is enough to shorten your life. Pigs, of course, are slaughtered and eaten when they become fat. Hence, immortals would dare not carelessly expose themselves to masses of mortals. As immortals are no longer in need of or desire support, fame, or riches, what can mortals possibly offer them other than incessant trouble?

“A man should be as afraid of fame as a pig should be afraid of being fat.”

—Chinese adage

KO HUNG: Immortals are very difficult for common people to recognize because mortals think that anyone with strong character would never cloak himself in anonymity, and that such a high spiritual being would never want to dwell in a lowly human body. How, then, can a common being even begin to recognize an immortal? Immortals tread a completely different path; they consider wealth and renown to be misfortunes, they see the finer things in life as filthy, they believe that ethics and ceremony are no more than dust, and they feel that all fame is no more than the morning dew.

Here Ko Hung makes the argument that immortals have no reason or purpose for exposing themselves to common people or society. Everything a common mortal views and seeks as precious, the immortal finds useless. In Ch’an Buddhism there is an anecdote about how the dung beetle seeks to live in excrement, finding it the most pleasurable and comfortable place. But what human being would seek the same environment? This is how the immortal views mortal existence: no more than a pile of excrement, even though we mortals might find the world of mortals pleasurable and worth-while. Yet, it must be made clear that immortals do cherish nature as such—it is living among all the other mortals and all their greed and desires that distresses them. Therefore, if wealth, material objects, ethics, and fame are of no consequence to immortals, why would they bother themselves with the trappings of mortality? My teacher once said to me, “If you want to be immortal, just give up all your mortal actions and desires.”

“If you want to be immortal, just give up all your mortal actions and desires.”

—Master T. T. Liang

KO HUNG: Immortals can walk on blazing fires, yet never be burnt. They can walk on the darkest and most turbulent waters and still float; move through the transparency of emptiness as if with wings, using the wind as a steed to ride in the clouds. When the immortal gazes upward he will rise to the celestial pole, or when he looks downward he will come to rest on the K’un-Lun Mountains on Earth. How could common men, who are merely walking corpses, ever hope to see them?

Common men are earthbound. Between physical gravity and attachment to self, we cannot imagine the freedom of spirit an immortal has attained. Immortals are not bound or affected by the five elements—fire, water, metal, wood, and earth, which comprise everything that has a physical existence—or by a physical body. A mortal can imagine, for example, that he is lying upon a warm tropical beach, but he has to rely on the activities of the elements to actually get there. An immortal has only to think of where he wants to be and he will instantly transport his spirit and physical image there.

KO HUNG: If on a certain playful occasion an immortal decides to spend time among mortals, he will surely disguise his true self and conceal all his extraordinary attributes in order to appear as a mortal. How could he then be recognized, even if a mortal was standing right beside him? Immortals can be recognized only by those with squared eyes, like Chiao Hsien, or ears that grow on top of the head, like Ang Su, or those who can ride a dragon, like Ma Shih Huang, or those who can embrace a white crane, like Wang Ch’iao. Maybe if immortals had scaled bodies, were serpent-headed, drove golden chariots, or wore feathers they could be recognized by mortals. But since they display no such distinguishing characteristics, only those with high spiritual penetration skills of vision and hearing can recognize them.

Ko Hung provides us with two streams of thought here. First, immortals can appear among mortals if they so wish. Second, when immortals are in their normal immortal condition, only mortals with “spiritual penetrations” can see and hear them. These spiritual penetrations are the result of spiritually cultivating to the state in which the mortal’s mind is perfectly clear, or, as Taoism refers to it, in perfect tranquillity. This perfect tranquillity is what Buddhists call samadhi and Christians call realizing Godhead. People who have achieved this state can see spiritual realms and recognize spiritual beings. What interests me about this is that when we read such accounts the figures each cultivator sees is rarely outside her respective religion or beliefs. Taoists see and hear immortals and gods, Buddhists see and hear Buddha and bodhisattvas, and Christians see and hear God and angels. In every culture, every religion, and every philosophy this has held true. For example, why did the early Greeks see just their gods and not Taoist immortals? Why didn’t the Christians see Buddha? This seeming contradiction used to perplex me and made me think that all spiritual beings were nothing more than fabrications of every religion. But the truth of the matter is that the individual mind creates the images. We see things in context of what our minds are capable of seeing and interpreting, and immortals appear in forms we can accept and understand.

I have never told this story before, but I think it is time to tell it in order to help clarify what is being discussed here. On my arrival to a Buddhist monastery I spent the first week waiting to see the abbot, each day hoping he would come around so I could at least say hi to him. Finally, during lunch on a particular day I saw a Chinese man enter the dining hall. This man had a very agile gait and a big smile, and moved in a way that personified perfect freedom of action in its purest form. Sitting at a high table atop a high stool, I was able to watch as he went around the room greeting some of the other people there eating lunch. Immediately I knew this was the abbot, but was curious about the manner in which he was dressed. He wore short black pants, a wraparound shirt that exposed his entire bare chest, and no shoes, and his very rich black hair was tied in a topknot Taoist-style, not the style of Buddhists, who shave their heads. Shortly after all of his gaiety with the others, he appeared to glide briskly across the room and stood in front of me with a very somber and expressionless face. He stood this way for a few moments, exhibiting an almost uncomfortable stare into my face and eyes. Then in one big burst his face beamed with a very broad smile, and he quickly said, “Good. You’ve returned. You’ve got to try your best. Okay!” At which point he headed for the dining room door and disappeared.

Later, when I questioned one of the monks about whether or not that was the abbot who came to lunch, he assured me it was. But when I commented on his appearance I was assured that he never dresses like that. I was dumbfounded. Why would I choose to see him like that? Later, when I was sleeping, I dreamt the abbot was walking with me and he said, “You don’t remember do you? I was your first Taoist teacher in T’ang dynasty. Remember, you once saw me when you first took up meditation.”

Yes, I did remember that person appearing to me during my initial practice of meditation. It all came back to me. Interestingly enough, I remembered thinking back on that experience as being just some ridiculous illusion. I remembered a person dressed just like I saw the abbot dressed, standing in front of some mountain shanty buried deep in the forest and waving at me in a gesture requesting me to come over to him. But that was all.

Because of this event the words of Ko Hung ring clear for me. Despite what others may think of this story, it was evidence enough for me to believe that not only do immortals exist, but that they also appear in manners beyond rational assumptions. It is as if something deep and long forgotten in your mind is dragged out and reshown to you. We can say, then, that these things are mind created, because it is the mind that chooses to see and interpret things in a certain way. We can say it is the immortal influencing the mind to see and interpret things a certain way. Either way, it is an experience of the mind.

Hui Neng, the Sixth Patriarch, also illustrates this principle in a story contained within the Sixth Patriarch Platform Sutra: Two monks are watching a flag blowing in the wind. One monk said, “It is only the wind that moves the flag.” The other monk said, “It is the flag that moves within the wind.” One monk was implying that the wind was the cause of the flag moving, and the other was implying that the flag itself allowed the wind to move it. Each took a different stance on the cause of this event. Hui Neng happened by and heard their discussion. As he passed he said, “It is your minds that have caused both the wind and flag to be moved.” By extension we can also say that it is our minds that determine how we see and interpret immortals as well.

Hence, a Taoist, no matter how pure and clear her mind, will still see any spiritual being in conformity with her beliefs. Immortals, gods, Buddhas, angels, and so on are but an enormous population of spiritual beings existing on a plane of reality different from that of mortals; any cultivator who achieves the ability to glimpse into that realm (and there are many such realms) will process the images and sounds according to her own belief structures.

This aspect of the mind holds true even on a purely mortal plane. For example, in recent years a tribe in Borneo was discovered. This tribe had never before seen any other human beings. One of the interesting aspects of its folklore was revealed in members’ experiences of seeing airplanes flying overhead. They assumed these were great bird gods that had spiritual influence over them. They did not perceive the airplane for what it really was, as the concept of aviation technology was not part of their experience; instead, they assigned to it a definition that confirmed their worldview. In summation, all spiritual cultivators do the same.

KO HUNG: People of every era have not believed in immortals and have been extremely critical of their existence, causing Taoists [immortals] to become perturbed and to conceal themselves even more so. Just like those people who hold superior positions look down on the interests of the common people, so those who achieve the loftiest attainments place little value on things that common people esteem. Just as illustrious scholars and men with exceptional talents who seek solely to nurture their own accomplishments and interests take no pleasure or interest in consorting with ordinary people—why, even more so, would an immortal even care to have these puppets know of his existence?

Now we come to another problem: those who absolutely do not believe in immortals or any other spiritual beings in general. Imagine for a moment that you are an immortal and you decide to reveal yourself to a mortal. This mortal is going to either believe in you or not. If the mortal does believe in you, you then have to suffer through all the attachment, worship, dependence, and so forth. If the mortal does not believe in you or accept your reality, you will have no choice but to depart. Neither of these mortal reactions holds any interest for immortals. As my teacher once said, “It is like coming across a stray dog on the street. If you engage yourself with the dog, it might constantly follow you or it might become fearful and attack you. Better to ignore the dog and just go on your way.”

We also can’t fool ourselves into thinking that even if an immortal presented himself clearly, we would react correctly. Indeed, most mortals actually shudder with fear at the thought of encountering a spiritual being. The Christian “fear of God” was not God’s idea, but rather a mortal reaction. Hence, it is because of these types of mortal reactions and the complete lack of interest in mortals that immortals rarely bother with interactions with common humans.

Another problem that Buddhism deals with in the most succinct way is that immortals clearly understand that mortals cannot understand either their thinking or their existence. In Buddhism the spiritual stage right underneath a Buddha is called a pratyateka Buddha. In every respect pratyateka Buddhas are Buddhas but do not have the compassion that compels them to go forth and enlighten other beings. This type of Buddha, which curiously sounds exactly like the Taoist immortal, can choose to live out his existence within either Earthly or Heavenly realms. Most retreat to the mountains and avoid humans altogether, for they know they will be thought crazy if they attempt to teach the truth of reality. It isn’t until they are embodied with compassion for all sentient beings that they actually become Buddhas and begin to teach and cause others to reach salvation.

When a mortal cultivates himself to a spiritual transformation and achieves tranquillity, samadhi, enlightment, Godhead, or whatever you wish to call it, his reality is so drastically changed that his realization is that mortals cannot and could never understand the truth; the cultivator then shuns the idea of revealing himself and teaching others. He wants to hide himself and avoid all human contact. Spiritual beings are always a reluctant to interact with human beings because it always leads to the suffering of spiritual beings. Only compassion and duty compel spiritual beings to interact with humans. In regard to this compassion and duty, the Buddhist means that the spiritual being (or immortal) becomes overwhelmed with feelings of mercy for those who do not know or see what they see for all living creatures. Duty means that they come to see that the filial concerns extend out to every sentient being. It is these two aspects that cause a pratyateka Buddha to go into the world of mortals and bring them the teachings that lead to enlightenment.

There is an abundance of stories from every religion about a spiritual being who has to take on an earthly existence in order to save some mortal individual or human beings as a whole. This is not unlike human beings themselves; we go to work and earn money, not necessarily because we want to, but because of our duty to earthly responsibilities and existence. Work is not exactly the optimum condition or desire of humans. Everyone, in one manner or another, would rather not have the duty of working for a living, just as spiritual beings would rather not have the duty of saving human beings. This is clearly seen in Christianity when an angel, in order to receive his wings, has to save some wretched human from himself. Immortals, gods, and so forth likewise suffer this fate. The smart immortals, as my teacher liked to say, would fly away and hide high atop a mountain and avoid mortal contact and duty altogether.

KO HUNG: What should we expect? Should we really think it curious to never have known an immortal? At a hundred paces the eyes do not see everything clearly, so we decide to see certain things as existent and other things as nonexistent. Surely because of our ignorant discriminations there will be many things in the world we will decide do not exist. This is like saying, “The ocean is no deeper than the depth I can measure with my finger.” How can a short-lived insect discern the age of a tortoise, or a shrub reason the life span of the great ch’un tree?

As mortals we are both very discriminating and arrogant. We always rationalize that if we can’t see, hear, touch, smell, or understand something, it doesn’t exist. The ultimate truth is that if mortality exists, then so does its opposite, immortality, as there is nothing in our world that stands as a singular phenomenon. Just because we can’t always experience firsthand something does not provide evidence of nonexistence. Our world presently puts all its faith in the discoveries of modern science, and without its validation we determine things as nonexistent or untrue. But science is limited; it can make determinations only according to its own collection of previously gathered facts. Science itself has demonstrated its very own limitations, as per the history of individuals such as Galileo and Columbus, whose claims—prior to society’s “enlightenment”—were perceived as crazy, unpatriotic, and heretical. Einstein himself claimed that the majority of humans use only about 5 percent of the capacity of the brain. Imagine what we could understand and discover if we were capable of using, say, even 25 percent. Could it be that immortals and enlightened beings are using the full capacity of their mental faculties? If so, how could we hope to understand beings with such mental prowess?

KO HUNG: The emperor Wen of Wei was known for having read everything there was to read, seeking to keep extremely well informed on everything. He would claim that there was nothing in the world with which he was not well acquainted. He once stated, “In the entire world there was no knife that could cut through jade or fabric that could withstand fire.” This remark was quoted in the book Discourses on Traditions. Not long after both a rotary saw and asbestos were presented to him, and the emperor, being embarrassed and perturbed, had the discourses suppressed. This clearly shows that being dogmatic about anything is very unwise.

It was also the case that my father once had Kan Shih administer a certain drug in the mouths of some live fish and then placed them in boiling oil to be cooked along with fish that did not receive the drug. The fish that did not receive the drug were edible, as expected, but the fish that did receive the drug played about in the boiling oil as if swimming in water. My father also saturated mulberry leaves with a certain drug and then fed them to silkworms. Even after ten months they continued to produce silk. He once fed newly born chicks and puppies an age-preventing drug, and none grew any bigger. He fed a white dog a hair restoration medicine, and within one hundred days the dog’s hair turned completely black. It was from all these experiments of my father that I realized we do not know everything about the workings of nature, and that our unknowledgeable opinions and views cannot answer every question. For me, I personally regret that I could not rid myself of excessive sexual desire so that I might have devoted all my attention to the study of the alchemical processes of Nourishing Life (yang sheng).

First of all, Ko Hung does not describe what these drugs and medicines were, so we have no way of putting any of his claims to the test. But what really caught my attention about this portion of his writing is his confession about wishing he could have rid himself of excessive sexual desire. Many might think he is saying that all sexual desire is counterproductive to the alchemical process. Actually, what he regretted was his excessive sexual desire, not his sexual energy, which is an integral aspect of the alchemical process. Ching (sexual energy), as will be discussed later, is one of the three primary energies to be cultivated in one’s alchemical quest for immorality. Therefore, the disciplined and focused use of sexual energy and activity is useful toward completing the alchemical process; excessive sexual desire is not.

KO HUNG: Both of the Ts’aos, the father and the son, studied every book available to them and obtained eminent knowledge of their times. However, things they first claimed to be nonexistent later turned out to exist, and when they came to understand more thoroughly the workings of nature and life, they could only regret their former disbelief in the alchemical process. So it is of no great surprise that people less learned than the Ts’aos would have no belief in spiritual beings and immortals.

We can learn many, many things. We can read everything available to us. We can get one Ph.D. piled upon many Ph.D.’s. But the result of all this will be that we still cannot be capable of or knowledgeable about absolutely everything. Knowledge is limited and creates disbelief as much as it creates belief. Even if one were to read every available piece of literature on the alchemical process, it is still no guarantee that one will believe in those ideas.

KO HUNG: Ordinary people yearn for praise and profit, as they are constantly attached to fame and gain. Because they are like this they naturally assume that this must have been the attitude of the ancients as well; they don’t believe that there were once men who refused the opportunity to be the emperor or who rejected the honor of being appointed a minister. They do not believe in men like Ch’ao Fu, Hsu Yu, Lao Lai-tzu, or Chuang Chou. How could we expect men of present times to believe in spiritual beings and immortals, which are fewer in number than are the heroes of antiquity?

A person who seeks fame and profit judges the actions of everyone else as having the same motivation. Why? Because it gives justification for all his own actions of greed and self-importance, and those people who display actions of nongreed or self-denial are accused of false pretense. Even in ancient times, as in the present, great men and women who behaved and acted virtuously were condemned by those who could see and act only with greed and self-importance. People today don’t believe in the virtuous citizens of our times and believe even less in those of ancient times.

Another point to be made here is that if we look at history, all the great buildings and monuments of ancient times were constructed in reverence for spiritual beings and ideologies. Today all our great buildings are constructed out of reverence for money. We need look only at the skyline of any great city and we will see hordes of tall buildings devoted to the worship of money. In present times people of virtue are fortunate if a street is named after them. It is little wonder, then, that there is no widespread belief in spiritual beings and immortals. This was true in Ko Hung’s time and is even more so today.

KO HUNG: It is regrettable that people make the argument that since Liu Hsiang was not a sage, his book is not a definitive or believable work. My response to this is: Even if we were to assume that all the recorders [historians] in Lu [the name of the state Confucius was born in, now called Shandong] did not measure up to the virtue of heaven and earth, why, then, did Confucius use their works to compile his Annals? Even Ssu-ma Chien [145 to 86 B.C.], whose mind was surely not as bright as the sun or moon, yet Yang Hsiang claims that Ssu-ma Chien’s book is a true record of only facts. Why, then, is Liu Hsiang’s record of immortals disregarded, when he was an honorable gentleman and a famous scholar of his day [as was Ssu-Ma Chien]?

Ssu-ma Chien was a famous Chinese historian who wrote The Book of History. But Ko Hung makes the point that Ssu-ma Chien’s mind was not enlightened or even that of a sage, so why should Yang Hsiang claim his work is all true facts. Liu Hsiang (77 to 6 B.C.) was just as learned and respected. In fact, he was exceptionally well learned and spent a great deal of time investigating subjects that were abstruse and extraordinary. He could discuss with authority the profound philosophical ideas of his day. He was thoughtful and clear about truth and falsehood, being quite cautious to assure himself whether or not something really existed. It was Liu who compiled the Biographies of the Immortals, wherein he mentions seventy different immortals. We must ask ourselves, if no such process existed for achieving immortality, why would he just invent it? And how can we see with our own eyes what happened in antiquity? We can only rely on the writings passed down from antiquity. What Liu recorded in the Biographies of the Immortals certainly occurred, but presently anything not originating from the Duke of Chou or not substantiated by Confucius would never be trusted by the masses. With this type of situation, everything ever written by our ancient historians never actually happened. Why is it that one book from antiquity would be more reliable than all the others?

Let’s look at this in more modern terms. If some famous and respected historian and scholar of our day wrote a book claiming the existence of immortality and immortals, he would most assuredly be ridiculed. But would we then not have to ask ourselves, Why would a person with such a reputation and respectability write such a book? Why would someone who acquired such integrity from his previous work risk everything to write about a subject disbelieved by the majority? Why would one of his works be more believable than any of his other works? This was the case with Liu Hsiang.

KO HUNG: Presently, no one believes that immortality can be learned, nor does anyone believe in prolonging a person’s life span. This is all because of the failed efforts of both the First Emperor of Ch’in and Emperor Wu of Han to achieve immortality, and because the formulas and methods of their magicians, Li Shao Chun and Luan Ta, had proved ineffective. However, this is like saying that wealthy men such as Fan Li and I Tun did not exist in ancient times because of the poverty of men like Ch’ien Lou and Yuan Hsien. It is also like saying that the beauty of Nan Wei and Hsi Shih did not exist because of the extreme ugliness of Chung Li Ch’un and Su Liu. Even though some leave for a destination, not all arrive. Not all crops are harvested. Not all businesses make a profit. Not every military action is successful. Therefore, why should we believe that everyone who undertakes the arduous task of attaining immortality attains it? Maybe it was that the two emperors and their two magicians were all unsuccessful in their quests because even though diligent in the beginning they became lax toward the end. Maybe they simply did not acquire the proper teachings from true immortals. But how can any of this so-called evidence prove that immortals do not exist in the world?

Failure by some is not evidence that all have failed. In our own times we can compare this idea to cancer research. If we look at all the money, manpower, and experiments that have been applied to finding the cure of cancer, why hasn’t an absolute cure been found? Yet we hear stories of some individuals who cured their cancers on their own. Why is it that some are successful in ridding themselves of cancer and others are not?

I once had the good fortune to meet a man who had melanoma. The whole left side of his face was blackened and swollen by the cancerous growth. He had long been seeing physicians at the Mayo Clinic, but his cancer never subsided. This man was an old rural farmer who never thought of Eastern or alternative healing methods. But his son was very inclined to such thinking. After years of attempting to find the cure within established medicine, the old man gave way to his son’s wishes to try macrobiotics. Within six months of forgoing the treatments of the Mayo Clinic and adhering to the diet requirements of macrobiotics, the melanoma had reduced to the size of a pinhead. The old man told me he went back to the Mayo Clinic to speak with his doctor, and the doctor was amazed by his progress. He then asked the doctor if it was okay to eat fried chicken and other such foods, and the doctor responded that his diet had nothing to do with the spread of his cancer and so he could eat whatever he liked. The old man became very angry and told him the real cause of his cure, but the doctor was unconvinced.

I do not look at this event as proving purely that the doctor was wrong. Maybe he was successful in curing certain types of cancer in certain individuals. But in this case he did not have the right method for curing melanoma. Likewise, someone may have the answers for prolonging the life span but not for attaining immortality. Even in the world of Taoism we can find many answers from many different teachers about health and longevity, but we should not assume they know the correct method for achieving immortality.

KO HUNG: Cultivating the Nourishing Life Arts of spiritual alchemy has but one secret, diligent discipline, in which wealth and high position are of no use. If a person does not have the right character, then wealth and high position serve only as serious obstacles. Why? Because the techniques and means for attaining immortality lie in a person’s genuine desires to attain tranquillity, to achieve freedom from avarice, to see and hear internal functions, and to be totally absorbed in freedom from emotions. Emperors and other royalty, on the other hand, have the weight of the world on their shoulders, and are trapped by countless details of regulations and administrations. Their minds are constantly engaged with schemes and plans numbering in the thousands, and their internal spirits are cast hurriedly throughout the universe. With even the slightest of errors their entire royal plan can be destroyed. If their royal subjects make errors, they must take the blame. The potent wines they drink disturb the harmony of their qi, and in surrounding themselves with beautiful women their essences (ching) are whittled away. All of this causes their sperm to be damaged, their minds to be weakened, and their capabilities of calmness and concentration to be destroyed.

This is a very important section of Ko Hung’s text, and it deserves special attention because he outlines the requirements for attaining immortality. Ko Hung makes it clear that attaining tranquillity is foremost. The idea of tranquillity is much more than the term implies; to a Taoist tranquillity means a perfectly clear, pure, and undisturbed mind and body. As I stated earlier, it is equivalent to the Buddhist idea of samadhi, an abstract, contemplative functioning of the mind. However, we should understand that simply taking on the practice of seated meditation is no guarantee of achieving tranquillity. Tranquillity is much deeper and far more profound than just sitting still and being quiet. Meditation is more like the training ground for experiencing tranquillity. Tranquillity must be achieved in all avenues of daily life, including walking, eating, and working. To be precise, tranquillity is perfect action as well as perfect nonaction.

Next there must be complete detachment and freedom from avarice, the overwhelming need to compile wealth and material things. Contentment with one’s lot in life is far more important than the desire to accumulate things.

The mental ability to see and hear all your internal functions must then be accomplished. This means the ability to see with the mind’s eye all your internal parts and to hear with your mind’s ear all your internal functions, much like an MRI might do. Normally, we can only see, and in some cases feel, the surface of our bodies and from that determine any anomalies that appear via the skin. But Ko Hung refers to the abilities of seeing and hearing all the internal functions, including the movement of the qi within the meridians and cavities.

Last, there must be absolute freedom from attachment to emotions—namely, the Seven Emotions (Ch’i po) of joy, love, anger, lust, grief, greed, and hate.

Ko Hung then relates that having enormous responsibilities creates countless schemes in the mind to meet those responsibilities. Whether or not you’re an emperor, this overactive mental attention to daily tasks disturbs the mind and destroys all clarity of your internal functions. Even more, getting drunk or using drugs disrupts your qi (breath/vital energy), constantly seeking beautiful women destroys the ching (physical/sexual energy), and these then damage the shen (spiritual/mental energy) because you will be unable to remain calm and concentrated.

Before concluding, I must clarify that Taoism rarely advocates abstinence from anything; rather it views moderation as the key. Wine may be imbibed with moderation, with the purposes of increasing blood flow and freeing the mind of anxiety. Unlike in celibacy, sexual activity should not be forcefully abstained from, but rather the activity is used to help strengthen the ching. There is a huge difference between someone who uses sex to fulfill the need for pleasure and dissipation and someone who uses the energy of sexual activity to rid the body of anxiety and further his alchemical process. Therefore, applying moderation to one’s inclinations and activities is far more useful than fanatical abstention. It is better to let the need and desire for wine and sex die off naturally from the effects of practice than to force them out of your life.

I once asked my teacher when he quit having sex, and his answer surprised me. “In my mind I have never stopped, but my body has. I discovered long ago that sexual stimulation is really beneficial; dissipation of sexual energy is not. Taoism talks about conservation of sexual energy, but if you have no sexual energy, what is there to be conserved? Taoism talks about accumulating your ching, so how do you plan on accumulating it if you think this means absolute celibacy and abstention from all sexual thoughts and activity? This is why the key is stimulation and no dissipation. The wrong view is thinking dissipation means no stimulation, or that stimulation must mean it has to always be followed by dissipation.”

He then went on to explain a cute, but ultimately wise, comparison of the three philosophies in China (Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism) and their views on sexuality. “The Buddhists teach sexual celibacy because they don’t want any distractions from their goal of enlightenment. They are not concerned with immortality; rather they seek nirvana, a complete annihilation of the body. The Taoists teach sexual moderation because they don’t want anything distracting from their goal of tranquillity, and actually seek to preserve the body. The Confucianists teach sexual procreation because they want offspring to fulfill their need for biological immortality. Posterity is their goal, not enlightenment or immortality.”

A Zen monk was once asked if he was a pure vegetarian and he responded, “Yes, I am.” But he quickly added, “Except when I visit my mother. If she prepares food for me that has meat, I eat it.” He was then asked why, and he responded, “How can I say I am a compassionate person if I arrogantly refuse to eat what my own mother has offered and prepared for me? She was the one who gave me life, the person responsible for my upbringing, and so ultimately the cause of my enlightenment. It is better to take this moderate approach toward pure vegetarianism; otherwise my own fanaticism could prevent my enlightenment.”

The above stories help illustrate Ko Hung’s initial comment that “spiritual alchemy has but one secret, diligent discipline.” Diligent discipline should not be thought of in terms of complete abstention from anything, but rather in terms of disciplined moderation.

KO HUNG: I cannot possibly explain all the minute details of their condition, but suffice it to say that when mosquitoes bite we cannot enter tranquillity, just as when lice swarm and attack we cannot sleep peacefully. Those of the royal class must be even worse off. How could an emperor ever hope to hide his cleverness, regulate his breath, perform the necessary purification rituals, tend his furnace, wake with the dawn, and go to sleep late so that he might refine the Eight Minerals?

There is a double meaning here as to what Ko Hung intends with the Eight Minerals, as it can refer to either inner alchemy or physical alchemy. In order to understand Kung Ho’s meaning, one must explore the term Eight Minerals.

First, let me point out his eight instructions given in the text.

1) Entering tranquillity.

2) Doing away with cleverness.

3) Regulating the breath.

4) Performing purification rituals.

5) Tending the furnace.

6) Waking at dawn.

7) Staying up late.

8) Refining the Eight Minerals.

Within this one simple paragraph Ko Hung manages to succinctly out-line the entire process for cultivating the Elixir of Immortality. Furthermore, it is done in such a way that it can be taken in terms of either inner alchemy (meditation leading to tranquillity, or “cultivating”) or physical alchemy (the processes of concocting formulas, or “processing”). I will attempt to give a brief review of these below.

1) Entering tranquillity: When we have things like mosquitoes or lice bothering us, we cannot enter tranquillity or sleep comfortably. To the cultivator the mind must be devoid of all distractions, such as the Seven Emotions. For the processor this means there must be no impurities in either the mixture or the separate ingredients, and all must sit in the cauldron free of any disturbance.

2) Doing away with cleverness: To the cultivator this means one cannot attempt to either think or scheme one’s way into tranquillity. Cleverness, especially in regard to spiritual matters, is always rewarded with misfortune. So the cultivator just sits, as Chuang Tzu describes it, “appearing as if dead-wood and cold ashes.” To the processor this means not deviating from the instructions of the formula; seeing it through without thoughts of improvement or failure. Cleverness in this regard would destroy the entire process.

3) Regulating the breath: To the cultivator this refers to the methods of T’u Na and Fu Qi. To the processor this refers to a constant and disciplined flow of air through the bellows in order to keep the fire steady and even.

4) Performing purification rituals: These rituals can be found in the Taoist classic called The Treasure of the Highest Truth Classic, which came to be attributed to Lu Tung-P’in (one of the Eight Immortals of the T’ang dynasty). Within it are chants and instructions for purifying various aspects of practice (offerings, incense, spirit, body, for example). For the processor there were also purification rituals maintained in all aspects of preparation, refining, and ingesting of the formulas, be they mineral or herbal, and these can be found in various sections of Ko Hung’s Pao P’u Tzu Nei P’ien.

5) Tending the furnace: To the cultivator this means abiding by the tan-t’ien, to keep all of one’s attention there until the qi produces heat and vibration. To the processor it means keeping the fire under the cauldron steady and burning evenly.

6) Waking at dawn: To the cultivator waking early is to make use of the peak yang hours, and not to injure the ching (sexual essence and energy). Sleeping in, and as we like to call it presently, causes disruption of the ching in the body, and too much sleep will cause it to dissipate more rapidly. In regard to the processor, this is a warning not to sleep too much, for the furnace must be tended constantly and not left alone too long.

7) Staying up late: Taoism is one of the few cultivation practices that actually encourage staying up until at least one A.M., for this is also a high energy time. Immortals like Chang San-feng claimed there was no better time to practice his T’ai Chi Ch’uan and sword methods than between eleven P.M. and one A.M. Other Taoists claimed it is the best for meditation as well. For the processor it is again a matter of tending the furnace and not leaving the fire lest it dwindle or die.

8) Refining the Eight Minerals: To the cultivator this has a double meaning, as the Eight Minerals can mean the eight subtle qi meridians and/or the incorporation of the natural movements of the Eight Diagrams into one’s practice. For the processor this means to refine the mixture of the actual eight minerals and/or the eight herbal substances that can be alchemically transmuted into the Pill of Immortality.

Before moving on, this would be a good opportunity to explain something that confuses most Taoist readers—that is, the difference between what is meant by the Pill of Immortality and by the Elixir of Immortality. The Pill of Immortality is produced by alchemical processes either of certain base metals or of specific herbal ingredients. When completed these metals or herbs are formed into pills and ingested. One variant of the Pill of Immortality is seen in the description of the Peach of Immortality, which is grown and conferred upon immortal hopefuls by the Immortaless Hsi Wang Mu (Western Royal Mother).

The Elixir of Immortality is described in two forms. One is the transmuted essence of ching, qi, and shen, which then becomes a drop of yang shen that attaches to the tan-t’ien and thus creates the Immortal Fetus. The other is what is called the nectar of immortality, or ambrosia, which again is conferred upon hopeful immortals only by immortals. In Buddhism we see this also in images of the Bodhisattva Kuan Shih Yin, who with her vase will anoint a person’s head with this nectar to take away his suffering and confer rebirth in the Pure Land (a Buddhist type of heaven where enlightenment is assured for all those born there).

KO HUNG: Emperor Wu of Han enjoyed a long reign because he attained a certain degree of benefit from his practices of Nourishing Life. But a small wine goblet of aid does not meet the needs of barrels of expense, just as irrigation ditches at Wei Lu are not large enough to channel the water that pours out into the ocean and prevent flooding.

Emperor Wu had practiced Tao Yin and sexual methods. But his practices of these methods were not disciplined or complete enough to ensure immortality; they just prolonged the life span.

KO HUNG: The processes for becoming an immortal all depend on acquiring the mental states of tranquillity, being “naturally just so,” and complete detachment from the physical body. Despite this, the princes still ring their huge bells and beat ceremonial drums, even though all this ringing and booming does nothing but disrupt their vital breath (qi) and agitate their spirit (shen). All their artful and desirous activities are nothing more than distractions destroying their sexual energy and sperm (ching) and deafening their ears. They like to travel fast in light carriages, fish in deep waters, and shoot at birds as they fly past. They do not understand that the means of attaining immortality depend as well on compassion toward all living creatures, harming nothing that breathes. These princes have abrupt moments of anger and so commit mass executions of their subjects and enemies. With one swift brandishing of his halberd, or when commanding the use of his axes, the dead can be strewn for a thousand miles. Blood will flow like a river, and in the marketplaces heads are chopped off indiscriminately.

Are we much different from the princes of ancient times? We play our loud music, engage in all sorts of play designed through technology simply to distract us from participating in life. Hordes of sexual images are used not only to make us desirous of commercial products but also to keep us from harnessing that energy for spiritual use, and this does nothing but disturb our qi and shen. We think we are compassionate when we practice small acts of charity, yet turn around and indiscriminately kill animals for products and food. We drive in fast cars and make sport of hunting and fishing.

Is music bad? No. Is play bad? No. Is sex bad? No. What is bad, as Ko Hung implies here, is when these are pursued in such a way as to cause injury to our qi, ching, and shen. These pursuits are injurious when we participate in them without a sense of compassion. We should not participate in any activities that do not create a sense of compassion toward everything. For example, certain types of music can motivate people to be more compassionate. Certain acts of sex can cause us to feel and act compassionate. But as Ko Hung is attempting to clarify, people of wealth and power can often be prone to fits of anger and may justify uncompassionate acts simply because they are in a position of power. No matter our position of power, we should never use it in an uncompassionate way.

KO HUNG: The means of attaining immortality likewise require avoiding the odors of meat and purifying the stomach by not eating starches. Despite this, the princes still slaughter, slice, and cook fat pigs and all sorts of other animals. Each day they pile before themselves the eight precious foods, a hundred mixed dishes, all fried, simmered, and properly spiced, adding more elegance to what is already excessive.

This is probably a good time to point out something about Taoists, especially those from Chou’s period all the way through the Sung dynasty. The imperial class was much disliked. In any classical Taoist text—whether it be Lao-tzu, Chuang-tzu, Lieh-tzu, or Ko Hung, the imperials are never looked upon highly or treated well. The imperials had everything while the bulk of the population had nothing. The Taoists saw them as interfering in individual thinking and despised their view that the masses were more or less just servants of the imperial life and rule. Since the imperial class was more often than not influenced by the thought and teaching of the Confucians, the archrivals of Taoists, most Taoist authors seemingly go out of their way to make the imperials examples of bad living and bad thinking.

There is an old Chinese saying, “[It is pointless] to place delicacies within fine food,” which means to take a good thing and ruin it by adding other good things. To the Taoist it is enough that the food is good for you; adding excessive flavors and cooking processes only spoils its original goodness. In the above text Ko Hung attacks the spoiled princes of his time by saying that not only are their lifestyles and behaviors excessive, but they also want their food to be excessive.

KO HUNG: The way of attaining immortality also depends on extending our compassion to the very limits of the heavens (universe) and to view and treat everyone as we do ourselves. Despite this, the princes still overcome the weak, take advantage of the ignorant, use disorder for their own benefit, and create devastation to achieve their own ends. They conquer new lands to expand their frontiers, destroy spiritual shrines, and herd the inhabitants into valleys to meet their death and exist as abandoned ghosts, with their bleached bones scattered about putrid-smelling fields. Upon the Five Sacred Peaks the prince posts guardians with bloodied sabers, and from the northern gate of his palace he displays atop spear tips the severed heads of enemies. In one moment, tens of thousands can be buried alive or slain in captivity. Corpses can pile high into the sky, with bleached bones becoming thick as grass and forming entire mountains and filling the valleys.

Even though the Golden Rule has been in existence throughout most of human history, those of power and wealth are seemingly forever oblivious to it. Yet as Ko Hung proclaims, this rule is the very source of immortality. This point about the cruelty of princes is nothing new; we see it even today in dictators who use the fear of death and suffering to control the masses. The powerful have the erroneous view that they alone can achieve immortality because the masses live in fear of them. They do everything from erecting statues of themselves to naming everything after themselves, a futile and pitiful attempt to make their views and lives immortal to the people they subjugate.

But we also see these actions in what we call democracy, governments supposedly formed on principles of freedom. The problem is that the political system democracy and the philosophical ideal freedom often take on different meanings. The Taoist is always seeking freedom—not only personal freedom, but freedom for all individuals as well. Even though we live in a democracy, freedom itself is in scant supply. Our democratic society is ruled by many responsibilities that prevent true freedom. Think carefully: Are we still not actively involved in conquering new lands? Are we not involved in destroying religions that do not meet the policies of our government? Do we not still herd people into lifestyles and environments that are injurious to them? Do we not still have symbols and laws designed to make people fearful? Just because we call ourselves democratic and free does not mean we are. Actually, there is more evidence showing we are neither, and live under a dictator called national interest.

As Ko Hung states, our achievement of immortality depends on our own ability to be compassionate and to treat every living thing as we would like to be treated. It is not a question of our government or our rulers doing the same for us. Regardless of what we find unjust, cruel, or antifreedom, we can see how we should act. The major rule of any true Taoist is to be nonconforming; this means we don’t have to think and act as our government or society dictates, and we can be ourselves no matter what environment we live in or who we are ruled by. Since their inception Taoists have learned to blend with, yield to, and coexist within the worst of governments. Not all Taoists fled to the mountaintops to escape the unfair rule of their emperors and society.

KO HUNG: The First Emperor of the Chin dynasty drove out from his kingdom nine of each ten households because he thought they were contemplating a revolt. Emperor Wu of the Han dynasty caused the entire world sorrow because he killed half the population of his kingdom. He then ordered prayers to be chanted so the population would again increase, but the curses of the people caused a further decrease. The spirits of the dead, who could bring reward to the virtuous, took great offense at the meaningless offerings and ceremonies of the emperor and his monarchs.

This is true of all men of power: They panic at the thought of being usurped and panic at the thought of not being served. Businessmen, politicians, and religious leaders are all guilty of this contradiction. It’s as though they seek to emotionally and spiritually blackmail the masses for not bending to their every whim. When the businessman is caught cheating he invariably blames it on those of lesser rank or on the laws of the government itself. The Enron thieves, the greatest robbers of all time, shrugged off any responsibility for their thievery because they cleverly and falsely claimed, through their high-priced attorneys (paid with stolen money), that everything they did was well within the law, resorting to finger-pointing at each other while numerous people suffered the loss of their money. One of my students is a very prominent attorney and he once commented to me that the law is no longer a question of justice and truth, but one of cleverness. Needless to say, what they did neither was within the law of the land or the Golden Rule, nor was it motivated by compassion for its investors or our country as a whole.

Likewise, politicians, to meet their own political ends, will personally attack and destroy anyone who stands in their way. Did we not see this in President Clinton’s impeachment trial? Did we not see this with McCarthy’s Communist witch hunt? These so-called political trials were certainly not motivated by either compassion or the Golden Rule. Did we not see the religious figure Jimmy Swaggart claim he committed all those immoral acts because God wanted to test him? He actually had the audacity to blame God for his immorality. Did we not see Oral Roberts tell his followers that unless he raised eight million dollars by a certain date God would strike him dead? This is no more than spiritual blackmail. All of these examples point to how people in power will seek to destroy what they think opposes them, and when they are done destroying they turn and seek forgiveness. They always seek forgiveness, but never give it. It is very much like a man who points a gun at another man and shoots him, but takes no responsibility because the second man didn’t duck or get out of the way of the bullet.

KO HUNG: With the ever increasing vexations gnawing at their vital energies, with both men and ghosts equal in their hatred of them, these two emperors had but an empty and vain search for immortality, never experiencing or undertaking a true cultivation of a spiritual alchemical process. In reality neither of them even had the total awareness to carry out his mundane affairs completely. Therefore, they did not truly seek to learn the marvelous and profound secrets of immortality. Likewise, they never actually found a person who possessed the alchemical process that could formulate the Pill of Immortality and properly administer it to them. So it should be no great surprise that they never enjoyed the rewards of immortality.

Here Ko Hung claims that men who are hated for all their evil actions can never achieve immortality because their minds are too vexed. For if they cannot carry out mundane affairs with compassion, they certainly cannot carry out the requirements for attaining immortality. As the old Chinese saying goes, “Birds of a feather flock together.” Hence, people of greed and power will attract only like people.

The alchemists the emperors acquired only wanted money and had no ability to transmit the alchemical process. Not even emperors hold any special favor with immortals, so why would any powerful person think that because of her position and wealth an immortal would seek her out?

Once when I was teaching in Indonesia a certain wealthy Chinese businessman cornered me at a luncheon. Several people were there, including the wife of the boss of this businessman. He had offered to put me up in a private villa, pay me a large sum of money, and procure whatever amusements or items I needed during my visit. He wanted me to teach him everything I knew about Taoist alchemy that I had learned from my teacher. The problem was that I had already been in Indonesia for three weeks and had been teaching every day, and I wanted time with my wife and son. After I explained that if he was willing to wait one week I would attempt to teach him, but that I preferred not to go to a private villa (which seemed like a jail to me), the man was insistent that I leave the next day. Being used to having his way he grew more adamant, and I grew more determined not to teach him at all. The wife of his boss began laughing and said to him, “You cannot treat him like an acquisition. You have failed. He is just like his teacher and will only do what he wants when he wants to. Besides, it is good to see that Americans make good husbands.” The man left the restaurant very upset. My then wife was equally upset with me when she heard the whole story, because this man was of very high position and great wealth. My teaching him would have given me and her family greater prestige. When I told my teacher the story he humorously called me an idiot for not accepting the man’s money, but praised me for not sacrificing time with my family.

A week later I saw the man, and he apologized to me. I explained to him several aspects of Taoist alchemy. I then realized why my teacher had said what he did about not accepting his money. The man never paid me, but I got to enjoy that week with my son. Had this man the patience to wait just one week, I would have been richer and he would not have fallen seriously ill three months later. So Ko Hung is correct: It is no surprise that this man, because of his impatience, anger, and arrogance, never enjoyed the rewards of health, longevity, and, especially, immortality.

For those who might be wondering about this whole question of money and why my teacher would have encouraged the receipt of material gifts, there is an old Chinese saying, “Silver must be sacrificed if gold is to be obtained.” In Taoism, and I am sure this is true in other spiritual traditions as well, there is a balance between student and teacher wherein the student shows his sincerity and respect by wanting to pay something to his teacher for what he is receiving, and the teacher should attempt to give more instruction than what the student paid for. So there must be generosity on both sides. Money is not evil, but greed for it is. Money is good: It builds temples; it feeds teachers, monks, and nuns; and it prints books of wisdom. A Buddhist teacher once told me, “The payment for teachings, no matter if a large or a small amount, allows the teachings to hold.” What he meant was that when a student exercises his generosity, the teachings he receives will feel worthy. Students who attempt to get teachings for nothing by retribution end up with nothing and nothing will hold. A teacher who teaches for nothing normally does so because he doesn’t feel he has anything to give back. This is a total lack of respect for the teachings. In Taoism, and in other traditions as well, there are three types of giving, or charity, that should be exercised by both student and teacher—the giving of money, the giving of labor or skills, and the giving of wisdom or the teachings. Giving and charity are at the foundation of compassion. In present times I hear spiritual organizations and teachers use the word donation to soften the blow of simply saying “Pay me.” In the end, neither student nor teacher should be attached to money, nor should either be attached to “not having money.” As the great Taoist philosopher Yang Chu said, “If wealth wishes to come to you, do not avoid or refuse it; if poverty comes to you, do not attempt to avoid it or be saddened by it.”

I once heard a wonderful interview with the actor/comedian Drew Carey. He made a comment about something his mother told him that I thought was truly wonderful: “If it is a money problem, then it really is not a real problem.” I thought this was wonderful because in our present culture we obsess about money problems. Yet money problems are the easiest to fix, the easiest to negotiate, and the easiest to manage. True problems have to do with health issues, safety issues, and emotional issues.

Enough said about money.

KO HUNG: I am but a common and poverty-stricken man. My house shares the same humbleness as that of Ssu-ma Hsiang-ju, and I know the hunger pains of a man Duke Hsuan met while he took rest under a mulberry tree. During winter I also suffer from the cold like Jung Yi had to when he sat outside Lu’s locked gates for the night. In summer I also suffer from the hot sun overheating my small room for studying the Li Chi (Book of Rites). When I want to travel somewhere far away, I have neither boat nor carriage to use. When I have some task planned, I have nobody who can do the manual work involved. In my house there are no silks or satins for my senses to enjoy. I have no occasions to enjoy travel and sightseeing outside my home. I have no sweet and tasty foods to put in my mouth, nor do I have colorful decorations to please my eyes. I have no scented perfumes to smell or music for my ears to delight in. So many sorrows affect my heart, with a multitude of problems constantly invading my home. With such conditions as these, I fortunately have little that I can actually become attached to.

Isn’t it sad that such a man as Ko Hung would be so poor and live under such pitiful conditions? Meanwhile, men who have only greed, anger, and ignorance to teach others live in wealth and opulent conditions. But Ko Hung appears to be content with his lot in life, for he has little to distract him, has little to be attached to, and is rich with knowledge of the alchemical process.

KO HUNG: On those occasions when I was able to acquire oral instructions for an important alchemical process, or I had the opportunity of meeting with an excellent teacher, I would still desire closeness with my venerable wife and my small children. I would still have fond, loving thoughts of the hill where I see foxes and rabbits running about freely. Gradually, the day of my passing draws closer and closer, and insensibly I only grow older and weaker. I do all this knowing that immortality can be achieved, yet I find myself unmotivated to undertake the tasks to do so. So even though I am well aware of the uselessness of the many popular activities surrounding me, I cannot seem to let them go. Why? Because these have become habits and attachments, and it is so difficult to separate myself from the desire to be involved with these popular activities.

I very much relate to this portion of his text. My life has been blessed with learning from really good teachers, yet within those periods I missed many of the beautiful things life had to offer. As I grow older I too find myself attached to things that could be deemed un-Taoist and un-Buddhist. But, then, I saw these same characteristics in all my teachers as well. It is human nature, and true even of cultivators, to have joy and an attachment to something outside the arduous practices. To me it is like a release valve letting off excess energy acquired from practicing.

The Sixth Patriarch of Chinese Buddhism, Hui Neng, once said, “If you want to attain enlightenment, stay far away from the monasteries.” Why would he say that? Because more often than not, the attachment we create to an environment can become the very hindrance to what we are trying to achieve.

“If you want to attain enlightenment, stay far away from the monasteries.”

—Hui Neug, the Sixth Patriarch of Chinese Buddhism

Equally, practice can become a hindrance for the goal. Anything in excess will create the opposite effect. Hui Neng himself spent sixteen years with hunters before revealing himself to the Buddhist community. There is this kind of secret adjunct to Buddhist practice called “dead monk in a grave”; it is basically living in the world to test your skills rather than simply hiding in a monastery, where your resolve and spiritual skills cannot be fully developed.

We should not be surprised when any person who acquires a great skill is attracted to something outside his respective skill. This is especially true of spiritual cultivators. Most try to hide this, thinking others will assume the worst of them. But in truth it is the norm for such people. For this reason we find in Taoist traditions great masters who loved to play chess, play mah-jongg, listen to music, paint, write poetry, drink, fish, smoke, practice martial arts, and teach massage. For me the list of distractions is far too long to convey. Spending eight years of my life involved with ascetic practices gave me a deeper appreciation for the joys of life, participating in and embracing everything as part of my cultivation. No matter where I might be, the Taoist understanding of “when in the water swim, when on dry land walk” is always within me. Since all things are Tao, why would I reject or accept one activity, one thing, or one person over another? Or as my teacher once told me, “A true Taoist blends in with wherever or whoever he is with. Keep to your center, but wander freely.”

KO HUNG: How the much truer it must have been for the two royal monarchs who engaged in various kinds of amusements and endless intercourse with others. Merely fasting for one month or being silent for even a few days would have been virtually impossible for them. Therefore, how could they banish all their lustful thoughts or do away with the trappings of their royal positions? Would it not be truly strange for these men to avoid delicious foods, ignore their desires, turn away from beautiful objects, and then proceed to trek in the darkness and silence of divine immortality?

Now Ko Hung brings up the real difference between a cultivator and a non-cultivator. Noncultivators cannot apply themselves to any alchemical task for even short periods. The trappings of their existence are simply too much to let go of. The immediate need for and sense of pleasure is greater than the long-term effects of cultivating. When I meet someone who is capable of silence for one month, can enter into a long-term meditation practice, or can fast for more than three days, I have met a cultivator. He has great hope and shows great promise. For these people I have no problem with whatever activities they choose to indulge in outside the practices. For those who only fanatically practice I have no hope, as it is more likely they will burn up all their energy and quit cultivating altogether. The middle road is best; moderation is best.

Once I had a student come to me claiming he could sit, unmoving, in meditation for two hours. So I asked him if he moved in tranquillity for two hours as well. He didn’t understand, and left. The idea that he could sit unmoving in meditation was actually impressive; most people can’t. The problem he had was his attachment to sitting motionless. I wanted to find out if he could be as tranquil while moving about in the world.

The real question that Ko Hung is asking above is, Can you be tranquil while smelling and seeing delicious food, when objects of your desire are happened upon, or when things of beauty come before your eyes? This, not hiding yourself away from everyone and everything and then claiming you are tranquil, is the real test. If you think tranquillity is easy, then go to a busy marketplace, sit upon a bench with your legs crossed, and enter tranquillity. Only true cultivators could do so.

There is a Chinese story about a monk who wanted to test a disciple to see if he had any samadhi power. He took his disciple to a brothel and had him enter a room with three beautiful women. The women stripped him naked and proceeded to bathe him. Later, when the monk questioned the women about his disciple, they told him that he really enjoyed himself, was laughing, and was very chatty. But the monk wanted to know if the disciple had wanted to engage in “rain and clouds” (sex). The women said that his vital part never moved, and even though they had touched him and offered their favors, he made no amorous advances whatsoever. When the monk asked his disciple about the event, the disciple told him, “Being in tranquillity is a much greater experience than any pleasures those women could have provided. Why would I choose plain rocks over gold?” The monk then knew this disciple could become his heir.

KO HUNG: When we examine the types of men who achieved immortality in the past, it is clear that most of them were poor and lived within humble situations. They were not men of high position and power. For example, Luan Ta was not a man of profound wisdom or knowledge of immortality. Yet because he hungered and thirsted for both honor and position, he shamelessly accumulated wealth and gifts from those he swindled with false claims and with insane bouts of imprudence. However, he forgot that the retribution for his behavior would be calamity. Should we assume that this one dishonest, common, and petty person is sufficient evidence for the nonexistence of immortals in the world?

Impostors are everywhere, and not just in Taoism. All spiritual teachings attract people who just wish to acquire honor, fame, and wealth. Once my teacher told me about a Taoist priest in Taiwan who built a small hut outside the city. He placed a sign outside that read, “Taoist monk meditating to accumulate merit for building a new temple in your city. Please leave your donations.” There was a small slot on the side of the hut for people to drop their money in. For two days the monk sat inside the small hut, and many people came to donate their money. But on the third day the monk, hut, and money were all gone. My teacher formulated a statement about this: “Monks don’t want money, but the more the better!”

When I was in the monastery there was a famous East Coast American Buddhist teacher who ran ads for his books in several magazines. The disturbing part was that the ads professed his enlightenment. When one of the monks there asked our teacher if the man was enlightened, our teacher responded, “If a person states he is enlightened in such a manner, he is certainly not enlightened. An enlightened being is incapable of such aggrandizement.”

Impostors are seen frequently in Christian circles as well, especially in today’s world. It is really sad to see what some of the evangelists are doing to an otherwise wonderful spiritual tradition. They profess the need to spread the word of God as though it were an act of holy war. Their desire to be television personalities has outweighed any spiritual intentions. Some go so far as to claim psychic abilities, only to be exposed as frauds. Some cry like babies over being persecuted by imaginary enemies. Some use their positions to engage in and satisfy their sexual perversions. And some, like Jim Jones and David Koresh, disguise themselves as Christians only to cause the death of all their disciples, putting their egos before the safety and well-being of those who followed them. In both cases, if these had been true spiritual men, would they not have given themselves over to authorities rather than causing all around them to die? But predominantly their actions were about money, lots of money; and ego, lots of ego. They were also about cowardice, lots of cowardice. They all suffer retribution sooner or later. They fall and gradually disappear, or burn out in violent horror. Small demons fade; big ones implode.

In Taoism these types of men are indeed viewed as demons, for all they really do is cause the suffering and poverty of others. As in Ko Hung’s time, in our time there will always be these types of men and women seeking to take advantage of the spiritually inclined. The good news is, as my Buddhist teacher once said, “impostors serve only one good purpose. Through their insanity and greed people can learn to see and distinguish the true teachers from the false ones. They ultimately lead the way for good teachers.”

KO HUNG: In antiquity the soldiers under the command of Kou Chien would compete by walking over hot coals. As a model for fierceness, Kuo Chien gave each of his soldiers a frog. [When placed on the coals first] these frogs would demonstrate the anger and bravery he wanted to instill in his soldiers. Duke Ling of Ch’u only liked people with narrow waists, so many people died of hunger. Duke Huan of Ch’i craved rare delicacies, so his subject Yi Wu cooked his own son for him. The emperor of Sung encouraged people to fast during mourning [contrary to the Book of Rites]; thus many of the filial died in their homes from weakness. Whatever the masters desired always seemed to be provided.

This is always the case: When the powerful dictate, people follow like sheep to a slaughter. Another reason Taoism adheres to nonconformity and separates itself from powerful people is simply this: Taoists believe in individual freedom. A true Taoist teacher neither seeks to control others nor allows others to control him.

Thus, Ko Hung stated that emperors and people of position and power have difficulty attaining immortality, as their minds are preoccupied with the control of others. It is also why so many relationships encounter difficulty and dissolution—the emotion of jealousy (a control issue) preoccupies their minds. Imagine for a moment living under a government that does not interfere with your personal freedoms. Imagine being in a relationship where jealousy and possessiveness play no part. It is a truth that the more we let go of things, the more they come back to us. As the Taoist would advise, “Better to float effortlessly downstream than to struggle swimming upstream.” The Tao is not about struggle and conflict; rather, it is about ease and acceptance.

KO HUNG: Emperor Wu of Han openly welcomed magicians and bestowed extreme favors upon them, but this only encouraged others to indulge in false claims. If Luan Ta had possessed the alchemical process, how could he have been subject to execution? Any man who possesses the alchemical process would consider high rank a cauldron of boiling water, would look upon seals and ribbons of office as funeral clothes, would look upon gold and jade as dirt and excrement, and would look upon brightly painted halls as an ugly toad. Would a man who possessed the true alchemical process have any incentive to dupe people or to engage in meaningless speeches just to glorify his own self? So [Luan Ta], acquiring a home with red pillars and receiving innumerable gifts, a seal of office, and the hand of a princess, was just an exercise in wallowing in power and self-aggrandizement. Assuredly he never attained satiety. Luan Ta, without question, never possessed the alchemical process.

When powerful people make known their love of something, it entices the charlatans. I am always mildly amused and greatly saddened when I hear of some famous actor who aligns himself with one of these charlatans. He should read Ko Hung’s statement: “Would a man who possessed the true alchemical process have any incentive to dupe people or to engage in meaningless speeches just to glorify his own self?” The answer is, unequivocally, no.

This would be a good time to discuss why it is that people seek out spiritual teachers and why they get into so much trouble, develop frustration, and become financially impoverished. First of all, the majority of spiritual seekers are not spiritual at all. I have come to see them more like I would alcoholics or sex or drug addicts who are actually attempting to avoid their reality of life. More often than not they are simply trying to change their lives from what they consider depressive conditions into happier and more carefree lives. Unfortunately, they hop from one teacher to another like addicts do with bars, partners, and stimulants, never making the effort to find and stay with a good teacher.

There are also people who wish to align themselves with famous teachers only to build up their own credentials. This is not so bad, but these people also don’t normally stay with a teacher long enough to really master any skills. These types are too eager to be teachers themselves, and when they get just a little bit of knowledge they run off to gather their own students. But if one has the forbearance and dedication to stay with a good teacher for a long period, there is hope for that person.

Ko Hung said, “More importance and effort should be put on finding a good teacher than a good method.” Methods are numerous, but good teachers are rare. When you come across a good teacher, stay with that person and learn as much as you can; this will take you much further than just seeking out a method you are drawn to. My teacher often said, “A student should stay with a teacher for at least five years, provided he is good, and learn everything he can from the teacher. But the best students stay for ten years.” Always look for a reputable teacher with a good lineage who learned for a long period from his or her teacher.

KO HUNG: In the Biography of Li Shao Chun, by Tung Chung Shu, it states, “Li Shao Chun had obtained a formula for achieving immortality, but because he was poor he had no means by which to purchase all the necessary ingredients. Therefore, he went to certain officials of the court to obtain the needed funds. But once the entire alchemical process was finished, he left.” Within the Activities of the Han Court we read, “When Li Shao Chun was preparing to leave the court, Emperor Wu dreamt that he had ascended Mount Sung with him. Once halfway up the mountain there appeared an emissary, mounted on a dragon and grasping an official baton, who had descended from the clouds and proclaimed, ‘T’ai I (the Jade Emperor) has requested the presence of Li Shao Chun.’ Upon awaking the emperor told his attendants of the dream and predicted that Li Shao Chun would soon be leaving him. Just a few days later Li complained about being sick, and then died. A long time after this, the emperor had ordered the coffin of Li to be opened, but inside they found only a robe and hat.”

The Immortal Classic instructs that cultivators of the first grade [highest level] can ascend their physical form into the void and therefore be called heavenly immortals. Those of the second grade [middle level] seek to retire in the solitude of famous mountains and are therefore called earthly immortals. The third grade [lower level] shed their physical forms after death and are therefore called corpse-freed immortals.

The reader might wonder about the situation here where Li Shao Chun takes all this money from the emperor, completes the alchemical process, and then just leaves without either sharing the formula or repaying the emperor. Is this a case of a Taoist ripping off the emperor? Possibly—I honestly don’t know because I wasn’t there. But when I look at this story carefully it is seen that the emperor was told in a dream the presence of Li was requested by the Jade Emperor (God in all respects). Now, if someone owed me money, but the Jade Emperor or some god requested of me to let that person off the hook, it is highly probable I would do everything to ensure his safe travel and unimpeded presence before that god.

I would also have to consider carefully the fact that—if I opened this person’s coffin and only found a robe and a hat—I was dealing with something far greater than just an unpaid loan. Rather, to have such a dream and to witness the miracle of finding just the robe and hat would be more than enough repayment. The blessing of being involved with the doings of immortals would be an honor, not a matter of bad business. In a humorous note it could be said: “The cost of alchemical ingredients, $1,000,000. The cost of housing and feeding an alchemist processor, $5,000. The experience of interacting with immortals, priceless.”

KO HUNG: Li Shao Chun was clearly a corpse-freed immortal. Presently, [in Ko Hung’s time,] it is thought that Hsieh Yuan-i took Fei Ch’ang-fang away, having buried a bamboo effigy in his grave to replace him. The cultivator Li I-ch’i had resided with two disciples in P’i Hsien. After their deaths the families opened their coffins, only to find bamboo staffs with red writing on them in each of the three. All of these reports show that these men were corpse-freed immortals.

These accounts are not merely stated to give examples of who Ko Hung thought were corpse-freed immortals; rather, they demonstrate the methods used to find out if they were or not. A teacher would be buried, and a year or so later the coffin would be exhumed so that people could see the condition of the body. If the body was not there, replaced by some article of the person’s, it meant that person had become a corpse-freed immortal. In some cases the body would have completely turned to ash, with small nuggets of a diamondlike substance in it; this indicated an earthly immortal.

KO HUNG: In former times, the scholar Wang Mang used quotes from writings attributed to the Three August Ones and the Five Emperors so that people would more readily accept his evil schemes. But because of his actions it would be remiss to state that all scholars are usurping swindlers. Ssu-ma Hsiang-ju, through his talented playing of the lute, stole the heart of the widow Cho Wen-chun and caused her to elope with him. But because of his actions it would be remiss to think that all musicians are the main cause of illicit love. It would be remiss to blame the farming of crops done by the Farmer God simply because some people choke to death on food when eating. It would be remiss to have hatred toward the Fire God’s method of fire drilling simply because some people are burned to death by fire. It would be remiss to feel anger about the creating of boats by the Yellow Emperor simply because some people drown when they sink. It would be remiss to blame Tu K’ang and Yi Ti for their expert wine making simply because some people get drunk.

Therefore, can we really say then that because Luan Ta was dishonest there can be no good result in the seeking of immortality? This would be comparable to saying that there were no heroic deeds performed by I-yin, Duke of Chou, and Ho Kuang simply because you witnessed the cowardly deeds of Chao Kao and Tung Cho. It would also be similar if you said Chang Po and Hsiao Chi were not the ideal filial role models simply because you witnessed the actions of Shang-Ch’en and Mao-tun [who both caused the death of a parent].

The Three August Ones (or the first three mythical emperors) were Fu Hsi, Shen Neng, and Huang Ti. The Five Emperors were T’ai Hao, Yen Ti, Huang Ti, Shao Hao, and Chuan Hsu. These men are considered the founders of Chinese civilization. Wang Mang made false statements and used the existing statements of these venerable men to achieve his own ends.

This, unfortunately, had become a standard practice in Chinese writing, and still occurs today. There have been several works claimed to have been discovered in an old bookshop or unearthed in some obscure grotto and then passed along as real ancient texts written by a famous person of China’s past, when in fact they are nothing more than the compilation of a present-day writer. This is done not so much out of evil, but rather to help the work gain acceptance by the masses. The Chinese are suspicious of anything that has not been time-tested. New literature is very difficult to pass before the Chinese, whereas the old finds easy acceptance. Oddly enough, the West is just the opposite.

Basically, Ko Hung is saying that one bad apple in a barrel does not make all the other apples bad. We shouldn’t assume that if one Taoist did something bad that all Taoists are bad.

KO HUNG: Within the writings on spirits and ghosts there are instructions for summoning up spirits and for denouncing the ill deeds of ghosts. These writings also contain formulas that will induce people to see ghosts, even though the bulk of people consider ghosts to be mere fiction. There are some that think no spirits or ghosts exist at all, and others think that even if they did exist they cannot be summoned or punished. Then we have those who think if a man sees a ghost he is a shaman, or if a woman sees them she is a medium—something that exists in their natures, rather than something anyone can learn to do.

Writings on spirits and ghosts have long been an interest in just about every culture in history, including our present one. Spirits and ghosts do indeed exist, they can be summoned, and high spiritual cultivators can administer punishments to them. Those who have seen a ghost or spirit need no convincing; those who haven’t simply can’t be convinced.

One of my more memorable experiences with a spirit took place when I was staying in the monastery. One afternoon the teacher was lecturing on a sutra (a scriptural text of Buddhism) and he commented that there was a fox spirit on the property pretending to be him. Fox spirits normally cause a lot of mischief and can transform themselves to look like any human being. The lecture ended, and I stayed behind to straighten the benches and close the doors before going to the dining hall for lunch. When closing the main door I saw the teacher get into a car with two other monks and drive toward the front gate. For whatever reason, that day I decided to follow the road that led behind the library instead of following the courtyard path to the dining hall. Just as I got past the library building I saw a gray fox wandering about. I stood frozen, not sure what I should do because the only way for the fox to leave this area would be for him to jump right over me. We both stood still, gazing intently at one another. I remember speaking out in a very nervous tone, “Are you the fox spirit my teacher warned us about?” Just as I said that the fox let out a freakish whine and started moving about very nervously. I decided it was best to back up and let the fox pass without hindrance, which he did very quickly. My heart was pounding and I was unsure of what I had just seen—a real fox or a spirit fox. In all my time at the monastery I had never seen a fox before, nor any other wild animals. The fox ran swiftly around the corner and disappeared as he traversed the road by the dining hall.

With my heart and mind still racing, I quickly scampered to the dining hall. But when I got inside and looked across the hall, my teacher was there, sitting at a table next to several monks. Immediately, my teacher looked across the room at me and gave me a very knowing yet mischievous smile. It frightened me so much that I quickly backed out the door without bothering to turn around and ran to my room in the monastery and shut the door. All afternoon I recited the Great Compassion Mantra over and over.

There was also an occasion when a hungry ghost came to my teacher’s house. It was in the late afternoon and my teacher was preparing his dinner upstairs. We heard the doorbell ring, and my teacher’s wife went to answer the door. Unable to speak English, she asked the man at the door to wait for her husband. My teacher then went to the door, and I heard some talking but it was unclear what was being said. In a few moments I could here footsteps going toward the kitchen. My teacher yelled down the stairs to me, asking me to come up. I did so, and when I passed through the kitchen door, there was my teacher, sitting at the table talking to this very grotesque man. He seemed to be in his fifties, balding and disheveled-looking. His face had obviously not been shaved for several days and his teeth were badly rotted. He wore clothing that looked like it just came out of a Dumpster. But the most grotesque thing about this man was his huge swollen stomach, tiny legs, and small head. Everything about him seemed out of place. He also reeked of some odd oily scent I had never smelled before.

My teacher looked up at me and said, “This man wants to know if I have any valuable coins for sale. I told him no, but he insists on trading with me.” I could tell my teacher was troubled by this man and probably wanted me there to scare him off. Just as my teacher spoke, the man began sniffing the food sitting in the bowl in front of my teacher. My teacher asked him if he was hungry and needed something to eat. But the man refused to accept any of the food, periodically sniffing the aromas as though he was drawing the food in through his nose. He then remarked excitedly yet in a creepy tone, “You have white air coming out of your mouth. Can I have some?” My teacher laughed off his comment, and then quickly wrote me a note in Chinese on a small piece of paper, which he passed to me. It read, “Recite the Great Compassion Mantra so he can hear it.” He then turned to the man and said, “This is my student. He will be a Buddhist monk someday, and he can speak Chinese.” Looking at me he said, “Okay, speak Chinese for him.” I then burst into the melodic lines of the Great Compassion Mantra. But before I could finish the man got up and excused himself rather quickly. My teacher followed him to the front door, and when he walked out my teacher locked the door quickly and came back into the kitchen.

He said to me, “You have now witnessed your first hungry ghost. I wanted you to meet him so you would know what they really look like. Did you see the way he sniffed at my food? Hungry ghosts can’t really eat solid food; if they take food in their mouths, it will set their throats on fire. This is their retribution for being so greedy in a past life. I was afraid he was going to kiss me because he could see my qi emitting from my mouth. This is why I had you recite the mantra. He ran scared when you did that. He probably saw bodhisattvas coming out of your mouth, and to him that would be like seeing a bunch of cops coming after him. Anyway, I think it is time to move from this place—not only have too many students found me out, but hungry ghosts as well.”

Needless to say, the image of that man, or hungry ghost, has never left my mind. Shortly after we moved to Tampa, Florida.

KO HUNG: Now, both in the History of Han and in the Records by Ssu-ma Ch’ien it is told that Emperor Wu gave Shao Weng of Ch’i an imperial title. When the emperor’s favorite, Madame Li, had died, Shao Weng made it possible for the emperor to see her ghostly form. Shao Weng had also made it possible for the emperor to see the Hearth God. These two events are clearly stated in these history records. Therefore, since there are methods by which to make ghosts appear, even for those who have no inherent abilities, then it is correct to assume that many other things are possible as well.

Spirits and ghosts are often the cause of miracles and strange events that happen among the living. The classic writings provide numerous accounts and evidence of spirits and ghosts. In light of all this evidence, if people still choose not to believe in spirits and ghosts, why should they believe in immortals that exist in high and remote places? Within different streams can be found clear and muddied waters, and in a similar way those who have ascended to the higher [clear] realms find no reason to return to this [muddied] world. So unless a person has acquired the alchemical process, how can he expect to experience the mystical realms of immortals?

Ko Hung is correct: If it is possible for people to see and believe in ghosts and spirits, why then would people not as well be able to accept the possibility or believe in the existence of immortals? It is interesting that the majority of people in our present society believe in the existence of God but have so much trouble accepting the existence of other spiritual and demonic beings. Also, we must again ask ourselves, why has every culture in the history of mankind written, dicussed, and believed in both spirit worlds and immortals? Can it be that there is some secret organization involving thousands of years and millions of people, just to fool you and me? Indeed there are charlatans in every aspect of life, be it spiritualism or business. But these charlatans do not justify the thinking that all spiritualism and all business are either foolish or crooked.

KO HUNG: The Confucianists and Mohists never found a way to explain such things and therefore chose not to say anything about spirits and ghosts. Hence, it is not to be expected that the common person would be led into not believing in these things. These things can be known only by people of great perception who have taken the formulas, discovered evidence, and thus concluded these entities do exist. But such knowledge cannot be forced upon anyone. Therefore, just because a person does not see spirits, ghosts, or immortals, this is not to say that immortals do not exist.

Confucianism and Mohism were the two leading schools of China during Ko Hung’s time. Both were based primarily on rites and regulations for living in society and rarely ventured into anything spiritual. The only immortality accepted by Confucianism and Mohism was “biological immortality,” meaning posterity, especially producing sons, which would ensure the immortality of bloodlines. The only spirit world Confucianism accepted was that of “ancestor worship,” for ancestors were real people at one time and so had influence on previous and preceding generations—hence, the ideology that fathers should act only as fathers; mothers as mothers; sons as sons; and daughters as daughters. There was no room or tolerance for individuality, no room or tolerance for exceptions to the rule, and no room or tolerance for thoughts outside of absolute filial piety toward one’s family and rulers. Confucianists and Mohists never thought to live within nature, or to accept all of its mutations and divergences. Instead, the focus was to strictly structure families, societies, and rulers as an exact model of their view of what Heaven should be like. One would imagine that if a society or religion were to model itself on a heavenly realm, there would have been some sort of spiritual basis or vision for the model. But this is not true of Confucianism, for it took an opposite approach, in which Heaven is modeled on the ideals of Confucianism. The two are connected by their creation of the Son of Heaven (the emperor), and in many cases these Sons of Heaven lived under more moral and social rules than did the masses themselves. When we place the Taoist ideals of tzu-ran (perfect freedom action), living within nature, and the search for personal immortality against the moral dictates, denial of personal freedom, and a structured Heaven of Confucianism, it is little wonder they clashed with each other throughout China’s history.

As a note, we should be wary: The forces of political conservatism today have begun to carry many of these Confucian ideals. Have we not heard from our own politicians that if we are not a supporter of their view of patriotism we are somehow a traitor? “God and country” sounds so much like the Confucian principle “Emperors rule, the people serve.” “America, love it or leave it” sounds exactly like the old Confucian law, “Opposing the emperor is cause for beheading.” We must always keep in mind that the existence of democracy is no indication that there is actually any freedom.

KO HUNG: Every person, wise or ignorant, understands that the body has both delicate [ethereal] and gross [physical] qi. When the qi is disrupted, illness occurs; when the qi is completely dissipated from the body, a person dies. In the former case, magicians have designed amulets for counteracting it. In the later case, The Rites provides the procedures for summoning the qi back.

I don’t believe that when Ko Hung wrote his work he thought would be read two thousand years later by “round-eyes” on the other side of the world. As a result, Ko Hung’s phrase “Every person . . . understands” does not necessarily hold true anymore because not every person in present times understands or accepts even the basic concept of qi.

But whether or not you believe it, qi is what animates and provides vital life energy to your entire body and being. Qi is also your breath; your breathing is what regulates not only the intake of qi but also its distribution throughout the body. Without qi you will die instantly. I have written a great deal on this subject in this book, so I need not go over it here in detail. Suffice it to say that the Chinese, as well as every other ancient Asian culture, had concepts and practices for developing qi. But no culture paid as much attention or developed so many methods and theories of qi as did the Chinese. It actually permeates Chinese thought, as almost everything is put in terms of qi. For example, weather is t’ien qi (Heaven’s energy), qi yu is gasoline (the energy of oil), and tien qi is lightning (the energy of electricity). The list of associations of qi with different types of energy is seemingly endless. But the term really comes into use within Taoism, where it is the most valuable of all human resources. It not only keeps a person healthy and animated, but it also is the essential ingredient for forming the internal Elixir of Immortality.

KO HUNG: Qi [ethereal and physical] is intrinsically tied to us, born with us, yet over an entire lifetime very few actually have the awareness to truly hear or see it. Therefore, should we conclude that because it is not seen or heard by everyone, qi does not exist?

As discussed in chapter 1, ethereal qi is what we inherit from our parents, called Before Heaven Qi. Physical qi is what we gain from practices of Nourishing Life Arts, called After Heaven Qi. We breathe in qi from the air throughout our lives. In Taoism qi is defined by three simultaneous functions: As breath it keeps us alive, as vital energy it is what animates us, and in its primordial form it is a necessay component of the Elixir of Immortality. Ko Hung’s example of qi is excellent and most relevant. Fifty years ago, few individuals in the United States knew what qi was, much less accepted its existence. Does that mean it didn’t exist? Today, qi (or ch’i) has become a common term in popular new age, meditation, and health practices throughout the West. Is it possible that immortality, like qi, is an age-old reality just waiting to be rediscovered?

KO HUNG: For a moment let’s consider these examples: the ghost who returned a favor at Fu Shih; the ghost that clearly revealed to the people of Ch’i the anger of T’ang the Victorious; how Shen Sheng’s ghost consorted and spoke with Hu Tu; how the ghost of the Marquis of Tu avenged the hatred of King Hsuan of Chou; how Master P’eng transformed himself into a black boar; how Liu Ju-i took the form of a blue dog; how the ghost of Kuan Fu beat T’ien Fen with a rattan stick; how the ghost of Chuang Tzu-i struck Prince Chen of Yen; the appearance of the god Ju-shou at Hsin; the ghost of Luan Hou staying in a commoner’s home; the ghost of Su Chiang giving discourses on the I Ching; the ghost of Hsiao Sun writing an essay; the ghost of Shen Chun speaking in Shang Lin Park; and the God of Lo-yang serving the court of Wu. All these are matters that deal with spirits and ghosts, which are well documented within our own books, and there are many more such explanations and reports of this kind. So with all this, if the ignorant still maintains that spirits and ghosts do not exist, how could he ever believe in the rarely reported accounts of immortals? The hope of having people believe in such things is like asking a bug to lift up a mountain or like trying to describe the ocean to a frog sitting at the bottom of a well.

People who have never seen a dragon, unicorn, or phoenix claim that such things do not exist. They claim that the ancients, for their own benefit, merely invented these auspicious signs so that their rulers would spend all their time divining just to make these rare signs appear. Therefore, we can easily imagine what these same people would say if asked to believe in the existence of immortals.

There is not a country in the world that doesn’t have unexplained documentation of stories concerning ghosts and spirits, and these accounts span human history. For those who don’t believe in the existence of such beings I can only say, it’s okay. When you die you will realize the error of your non-belief. But it is not important to me whether or not everyone in the world believes in immortals, spirits, and ghosts. The majority of humanity rarely agrees on most things (history, politics, religion, morality), so I would not expect every human to believe in a spirit or ghost world or the existence of immortals.

KO HUNG: People believe that because Liu Hsiang was unsuccessful in making gold he was seeking something unknowable and was just doing sorcery and passing off figments of his imagination as actual truth. They likewise claim that his book Biographies of Immortals, is entirely a work of fiction. Is this not really sad? This attitude is what is conveyed in the proverbs “Rejecting a foot-long rare gem because of one minute crack” and “To throw away a priceless sword because of an ant’s-nose-sized defect.” But these were not the opinions of the jeweler Pien Ho, who had very profound knowledge of jade, or of the expert sword maker Feng Hu; [both were able to correct the flaws]. But it was because of such erroneous thinking that the perfectionist Fan Li was so melancholy and Hsieh Chou sighed so continually; [they could not accept any imperfections].

Liu Hsiang, besides being an accomplished scholar and historian, was a metallurgical alchemist and spent a good portion of his life working to turn base metals into gold. Liu Hsiang admitted that he never found the actual formula for doing so, and because he didn’t discover the method people assumed that all his other work, especially the Biographies of Immortals, were works of fiction. Ko Hung is stating that because a person is not successful with one pursuit is not evidence that everything the person did or will do is also subject to failure.

KO HUNG: Records for the manufacturing of gold are contained within different writings of spirits and immortals. Liu An compiled all these into his books Huang Pao (Vast Treasures) and Chen Chung (The True Mean). Even though his text exists, the essentials of the formulas were kept secret and so must be orally transmitted during the reading of it. Only in this manner can gold be manufactured. Many of the original names of the ingredients had been changed; thus, the text cannot be taken literally.

This is true of many Taoist works, whether metallurgical or spiritual, as most schools and works were merely maps for the students; the crucial elements and processes had to be orally transmitted by the teacher.

KO HUNG: Liu Hsiang’s father, Te, had been in charge of Liu An’s affairs, so Liu Hsiang inherited Liu An’s writings, but the text was not orally transmitted to him. Thus Liu Hsiang never understood the actual art of the alchemical process. When he first read the writings he claimed that everything needed was right in the text itself, and for this reason he was unsuccessful in producing gold. So when Liu Hsiang compiled the Biographies of Immortals he abbreviated the writings of the Ch’in official Juan Ts’ang and in some accounts recorded his own observations. Therefore, the contents of the book are not from his imagination or fiction.

Here Ko Hung states why Liu Hsiang was unsuccessful in making gold and why his book Biographies of Immortals is based on written historical records. Liu An’s work needed oral transmission in order to make gold, whereas the records on immortals of the Ch’in dynasty official Juan Ts’ang were historical accounts.

KO HUNG: The accounts of madmen and many children’s songs [considered omens of sorts] have been collected by sages, and in some cases they were viewed as mere fuel gatherers. But we must also remind ourselves that we pick feng and fei plants, even though we have no use for the lower parts of the plants. Are we then to conclude that our classic writings are useless because we find just one percent of error in their wisdom? Should we also conclude that the sun and moon, which sit suspended in the sky, are not great objects of illumination simply because they are sometimes eclipsed?

How comforting it is to hear Ko Hung state that children’s songs are not just the imaginings of fuel gatherers (people who make up fantastic ideas) and were actually collected and used by sages. It has become a well-accepted view in our culture that most children’s stories, myths, and songs handed down through the generations actually have a historical foundation. It appears that in Ko Hung’s time history and wisdom were be passed down via rhyme and song. A good parallel from the present day is asking, Should we assume that Joseph Campbell was but a fuel gatherer because he investigated the origin of myths? Likewise, if there is one error in all his work, should we then conclude that the entire work is in error?

KO HUNG: In a foreign country they make crystal cups that are actually created from the combining of five types of ash. Even in our own coastal regions [southeastern China and Southeast Asia] many have acquired the method and make these cups. However, when they call it crystal the people refuse to believe them. They believe that crystal is a substance produced only by nature, like jade. Hence, since gold is also produced by nature, why should people believe there is an alternative method for its production?

Humans, in their ingenuity, have learned to duplicate many of nature’s substances. In theory, we should not rule out the idea that ancient processors discovered the method of producing gold, or that scientists will discover it.

KO HUNG: The ignorant do not believe that in lead the red and white components are the substances of transformation, nor do they believe the mule (lo) is born of a donkey and mare, as they think each species has its own unique seed. Therefore, how can we expect these people to believe in things even more difficult to fathom? The norm for people is that when they actually see little, they marvel much. How very true this is! Yet these very things are as obvious as the sky above us. Most of mankind exists as though living underneath an overturned jar. How, then, are they to comprehend things of a higher form?

The red component, called cinnabar or mercury, and the white part, called lead, have long been considered the basis for the Pill of Immortality in Taoist alchemy books. They have also been considered the primary components for turning base metals into gold. In early Chinese history there is a close association between the science of metallurgy and internal alchemy teachers.

Thus ends the case for why we should believe in the existence of immortals and accept the possibility of immortality, as presented by Ko Hung nearly two thousand years ago. Personally I found much of his writing relevant and mirroring a number of our present-day misunderstandings and narrow thinking patterns. In all of my many readings and translation efforts of Ko Hung’s work, I am forever impressed by the honest and humble approach he takes with Taoism and immortality. When I set about to rewrite this book I determined that this section from Ko Hung on immortality needed to be included, as I am sure the reader will agree. Ko Hung’s “The Immortals” not only sets a perfect tone for the later sections, but also adds much more background clarity as to why Taoists were so involved with the search for immortality and immortals.