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Chapter 22 of 35
周易参同契
The ears, eyes, and mouth are the three treasures (key gateways) through which a person interfaces with the external world. The path of cultivation lies in restraining and sealing them, so that essence, breath, and spirit do not leak outward and dissipate through these three apertures. The intrinsic inner awareness (the True Person — one's original true nature) lies submerged deep at the bottom of the ocean of consciousness, drifting freely yet never departing from the central axis of "the Middle" (the inner center of body-mind unity, the Middle Way). Seeing and hearing no longer chase outward but turn back in inward illumination; each opening and closing follows the natural rhythm. These three (ears, eyes, mouth) are the pivotal mechanisms through which one governs oneself — grasp them, and between movement and stillness there arises an unbroken current of vitality.
The eyes do not race after external forms but remain inward, nurturing spirit; the ears do not chase external sounds but turn back in listening, nurturing essence; the mouth does not speak much but remains silent, nurturing breath. Fewer words accord with the primordial undifferentiated state. With all three thus guarded, the body naturally relaxes, as if dwelling alone in an empty, quiet chamber. The mind is wholly entrusted to Emptiness (the original state free of clinging and artifice), taking thoughtlessness as the constant ground. This state is firm and unshakable; the mind is unified, not scattered or racing. Whether asleep or awake, the spirit remains clasped to inner true nature, observing the arising and passing of breath-energy within awareness.
With prolonged practice of this kind, the complexion gradually becomes moist and lustrous, bones and joints grow ever stronger. The turbid yin energies within the body are expelled, and only then can pure yang energy become established. Continuing unremittingly to cultivate body and mind, genuine energy moves naturally like spring clouds transforming into rain — abundant and gentle as spring showers, flowing like melting ice and snow, from head to foot and back upward again, circulating without end, filling the entirety of body and mind.
"Return" is the verification of the Dao — turning back toward the opposite, returning to the root, is precisely the proof of the Great Way in motion; "weakness" is the core of Virtue — yielding and non-contending is the very pivot of Virtue (the manifestation of the Dao within body and mind). Just as tilling the earth turns over aged impurities, so in the subtle and minute one gradually becomes attuned and unobstructed. Turbidity is the necessary road to clarity; after prolonged darkness, brightness inevitably dawns.
This chapter builds upon the preceding chapter's directive of "nurturing the self and guarding the mother," grounding the point of entry for cultivation in the "Three Treasures" — the three sensory gateways of ears, eyes, and mouth. The core trajectory is: close the three outer gates, guard the one inner center; from stillness enter absorption, from absorption arise transformation; repeatedly return to the root, from turbidity turn back to clarity.
"The ears, eyes, and mouth are the three treasures; close the gates, no passage through" establishes the general outline: human essence, breath, and spirit dissipate outward primarily through the three channels of ears, eyes, and mouth. Sealing them allows inner energy to be conserved without leakage. The line "the True Person submerges in the deep abyss" is extremely pivotal — true nature is already present, requiring no external seeking; one need only submerge deeply and gather inward, guarding the central pivot of "the Middle," and when the senses no longer cling outward, body and mind naturally unite.
"Return is the verification of the Dao; weakness is the handle of Virtue" serves as the philosophical crowning of the entire chapter: all cultivation is essentially "return" — from outward chasing back to inward guarding, from deliberate action back to non-action, from hardness back to softness. This is the embodied extension of the Daodejing's "Reversal is the movement of the Dao; weakness is the function of the Dao" as applied to body-mind cultivation.
The most immediately relevant aspect of this chapter for contemporary times is its insight into sensory overload and attentional dispersion. People today have their eyes dragged along by information streams, their ears interrupted by notification sounds, and their mouths constantly outputting in expression and consumption. The Three Treasures of ears, eyes, and mouth have become three points of "leakage" — leakage of attention, leakage of energy, leakage of spirit. "Closing the gates," in modern language, means actively managing attention and sensory input: scroll less, listen less, speak less — leave oneself space not filled by external stimulation.
What "entrust the will to Emptiness, take thoughtlessness as the constant" describes is not a numbed or severed state, but rather a clarity born of mental unburdening. The "returning to the present moment, letting go of judgment" pursued by contemporary mindfulness and meditation deeply echoes the "thoughtlessness" here — thoughtlessness does not mean no thoughts arise, but rather that one is not dragged along by thoughts. "Turbidity is the road to clarity; after prolonged darkness comes illumination" likewise reminds us: confusion, agitation, and drowsiness are not the opposites of cultivation — they are precisely the starting point for turning toward clarity. Acknowledging the turbidity, patiently allowing sedimentation — that itself is the path.
"Return is the verification of the Dao" embodies the Daoist school's fundamental insight into the patterns of the world: all things transform into their opposite upon reaching an extreme, and the most profound movement is often the return to the source. This is not merely a principle of cultivation but a cosmology and a philosophy of history as well. Correspondingly, "weakness is the handle of Virtue" elevates "softness" from a strategy to an ontological necessity — true power does not manifest as external hardness but as inner resilience.
"Turbidity is the road to clarity" implies a profound paradox: clarity and turbidity are not binary opposites but different stages of the same process. Just as water must first be stirred to turbidity before it can clarify, one must pass through confusion before arriving at lucidity. This connects with the Zhuangzi's notion of "illumination" — not clinging to either end of right and wrong, but observing the whole in the midst of flowing change. From this perspective, this chapter describes not merely a method of self-cultivation but a philosophical expression of the way life transforms — all descent is the accumulation of ascent, and all dimness gestates illumination.
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This content is based on classical Daoist texts and is provided for traditional cultural study and life reference only. It does not constitute religious, medical, or investment advice.