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Title: The Six Roots Returning to the Dao

The Six Roots Returning to the Dao

Consolidating the foundation, strengthening the root, understanding the constant Dao, and preserving stillness allow the Primordial Source (the origin of life) to be nourished and flourish. Achieving emptiness and cultivating serenity, quieting cleverness, and washing away worldly dust enable the Great Dao to extend and spread. Therefore, the ancient Dao-preservers did not covet the glory of high office and noble rank, nor did they delight in lavish feasts and opulence. They transcended worldly concerns and leisurely wandered within mystical sensibilities. Thus, what Dao could they not nurture? What mystery could they not establish? Alas, people of later generations mostly possess the disposition of the middling sort, harboring dual thoughts of survival and demise within their hearts: on one hand, they desire longevity but do not dedicate themselves to nourishing life; on the other hand, they detest death but do not contemplate how to avoid it. Consequently, anxieties and perils arrive without delay, unforeseen changes arise unpredictably. Although they may have the intention to cultivate and refine themselves, they lack the firm will to do so; though they may entertain notions of transcendence and ascension, they possess no genuine hope for it. How are they any different from the ordinary masses toiling in the mundane dust? Hence, in our present age, there are many who study the Dao, but few who attain it. Since I am moved by their sincere devotion, I should rouse myself to speak and admonish them, valuing purity and wholeness in practice, and avoiding abandonment halfway along the path.

The classic says: To wish to preserve the Dao, one must first preserve the mind. The mind can be active or still; it can give life or bring death—so elusive is it to fathom. It is like a monkey rushing through treacherous ravines, so difficult to guard against. It has "five thieves" that plunder the True Master (one's inherent nature, Primordial Spirit). If one does not guard it with the Dao, one drifts far away. The Classic of Pervading Emptiness says: "The mind belongs to the Mysterious Ruler, the Great Dao resides with it." Therefore, for those who preserve the Dao, it is proper to take this as the foremost task. When the mind achieves preservation, then the will is not scattered; mastering it ensures it will obey our command. The mind and will govern the internal and external; they cannot be lost. Therefore, one should rectify one's form, discipline one's demeanor, restrain one's own body, and regulate actions and stillness with propriety, thereby entering the domain of the noble person. Advancing and retreating with measure, one does not overstep the bounds of the worthy. Thus, indolence, arrogance, and laziness will not afflict one's person. If it were not so, why did Confucius say, "If the person is upright, one can govern without issuing orders"? Those who govern rely on this principle, how much more so those who cultivate the Dao? Therefore, first preserve the mind, then preserve the body. When the mind is upright internally, and the body upright externally, then "sight" must also be free from impropriety. Hence, one should reject extravagance and splendor, and be cautious regarding sights and sounds. When the five colors (blue, red, yellow, white, black) attain their correct state, then depraved hues cannot assail one's eyes. When the five tones (gong, shang, jiao, zhi, yu) attain their proper rhythm, then licentious sounds cannot assail one's ears. Thus, gaudy hues like red and purple cannot usurp the true vermilion, and the licentious music of Zheng and Wei cannot corrupt the refined and elegant. Then the ears and eyes are assuredly nurtured, and one's true nature is not seduced. If it were not so, why did Bo Yi manage to never let his eyes see evil colors nor his ears hear licentious sounds? A man of purity like Bo Yi adhered to this—how much more so those who cultivate the Dao? Therefore, the ears and eyes must also be preserved. Once sight and hearing are preserved, one must also be prudent regarding smell and taste ("scent" and "sweetness"). Hence, fragrant and pungent aromas cannot be used to nourish one's nature. Simple, coarse food is sufficient to sustain one's belly. When the five flavors (sour, bitter, sweet, pungent, salty) arrive, preserve the flavorless. When the five scents arrive, attain the scentless. Embrace a plain and sparse simplicity, a deep and profound stillness. Then the nose and tongue will not become one's afflictions. Thus, smell and taste can also constitute one aspect of preservation. If it were not so, why did the ancients say, "Residing amidst foul scents damages the true; dwelling in sweetness ruins the Qi"? Even ordinary people of the worldly current understand this—how much more so those who cultivate the Dao? Therefore, the nose and tongue must not be indulged. If all these are not disordered and each is properly preserved, then the six roots (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, mind) are all purified, and the Great Dao resides within. Internally, one is not enslaved by Qi; externally, one is not agitated by affairs. Then one can repose calmly upon the Mystical Couch, wander freely within the Marvelous Abode, with troubles not assailing the Three Realms, and thoughts not disturbing the Ten Thousand Spirits. The Elixir can be cycled nine times without error; the True can reach the Seven Treasures (describing a sublime state) without confusion. Traversing non-action, one reaches the Other Shore; relying on meritorious practice, one enters the realm of Mist and Haze. Thus, the role of the six roots returning to the Dao is indeed not insignificant—it all depends on how diligently a person preserves them.

The End of The Six Roots Returning to the Dao