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Chapter 34 of 35
周易参同契
The preceding chapters of the Cantong Qi merely laid out the general essentials without achieving complete purity and consistency. The language was often diffuse and expansive, with subtle points left insufficiently detailed, and omissions and abridgments occurring throughout. Now, rewriting this chapter, I supplement what was omitted, fill in what was lacking, and polish what was profound and obscure, interlinking the meaning of what came before with what follows, so that the main thrust and central intention return to unity, and the principles pursued no longer contradict one another. Therefore, I compose this chapter once more, naming it the "Three Correspondences" — through this, the true nature of the Book of Changes is thoroughly exhausted. 🌿
Yi (sinking to the left) · Ding (gentle fire) · Ji (substance) · Xin (worldly silver) · Gui (True Lead ［Note: an internal alchemy term referring to the innate vital essence in the kidneys, not metallic lead］) — these five positions each attain what is fitting; Wood 3, Fire 2, Earth 5, Metal 4, Water 1 — the numbers of the Five Phases each occupy their place; Jia (floating to the right) · Bing (vigorous fire) · Wu (medicine) · Geng (worldly gold) · Ren (True Mercury ［Note: an internal alchemy term referring to the innate primordial spirit in the heart, not quicksilver］) — these five positions each have their correspondences. ⛰
The true nature of the Great Change (the fundamental principle of the Zhou Changes) accords with its own proper measure; the Yellow Emperor and Laozi (the path of tranquility and non-action) profoundly investigate its applications, which may be mutually consulted and wielded; the matter of the furnace-fire (the symbolic system of external alchemy) indeed has its basis. Three pathways issue from a single source, each with its own route to follow. Though branches, stems, flowers, and fruits flourish and hang down abundantly, the root lies in the root-stock itself — never losing its original authenticity. These are words of sincerity, careful and grounded, utterly without error. 🌱
Taking its image from deep winter: bamboos and trees are all withered and wounded by the bitter cold; those who assist the yang principle are admonished to halt travelers from proceeding; the sovereign withdraws deep within; following the timely sequence of the seasons, one closes the mouth and does not speak lightly. The celestial way is vast and boundless; the Great Mystery (the supreme and profound Way) has no form to receive it — void and still, it cannot be perceived, and all external frameworks and outlines return to dissolution. If there is error, the thread of events is lost; if words are improper, they bring ruin upon themselves. Therefore, I establish in addition these Four Images (four categories of symbolism) to awaken those who are still blind and unenlightened among later students. 🌙
This chapter serves as the summation and supplement of the entire Cantong Qi, with its core lying in elucidating the fundamental principle that **"the three pathways issue from one."
The so-called "Three Correspondences" refers to how the Great Change (the principle of image-number in the Zhou Changes), the Yellow Emperor and Laozi (the learning of quietude and nurturing one's nature), and the furnace-fire (the alchemical arts of refinement) mutually corroborate and cross-validate one another, ultimately returning to a single "Way." Here, author Wei Boyang makes an extremely important declaration: although the preceding chapters "spoke expansively and diffusely," appearing scattered, the foundation never deviated. The function of this chapter is to supply what was omitted, causing the entire system to be like a net — the meshes clearly opened by the drawn cord.
The arrangement of the Heavenly Stems and Five Phases is the most subtle portion of this passage. The ten Heavenly Stems are divided into two groups — one yin and one yang, one sinking and one floating, one civil and one martial. Jia, Bing, Wu, Geng, Ren are the yang stems, the outer, the floating, the martial; Yi, Ding, Ji, Xin, Gui are the yin stems, the inner, the sinking, the civil. Coordinated with the numbers of the Five Phases (Wood 3, Fire 2, Earth 5, Metal 4, Water 1, which are the generative numbers of the River Chart), a complete model of celestial-earthly yin-yang interpenetration is constructed. 🍃
The image of deep winter in the latter section speaks of the principle of "concealment." The winter solstice brings the return of one yang, yet the ten thousand things remain deeply hidden, and one must not act rashly or prematurely. This is simultaneously the rhythm of heavenly seasons, the pacing of tempering in cultivation, and the wisdom of restraint in engaging with the world.
The most profound inspiration this chapter offers to the modern reader lies in the two-character principle: "the root-stock."
Wei Boyang states, "Though branches, stems, flowers, and fruits hang down abundantly, the root lies in the root-stock — never losing its original authenticity" — no matter how luxuriant the branches and leaves, no matter how abundant the fruits, everything returns to the root-stock. Modern life is overloaded with information and fragmented knowledge; we are surrounded by various schools, methods, and techniques: meditation, mindfulness, minimalism, productivity systems… like the myriad branches and leaves of a towering tree. But if the root-stock is unmoved and the original authenticity abides not, then even with countless branches and leaves, it is but surface splendor. This continues the tradition of the Daodejing's teaching, "Returning to the root is called stillness." 🌱
The visionary breadth of "three pathways issuing from one, each with its route" also carries profound modern significance. Science and the humanities, reason and intuition, work and spiritual practice — at the level of the Way, they are fundamentally interconnected and need not be artificially opposed. True mastery and integration come not from piling up techniques but from finding that "one."
The phrase "following the timely sequence of the seasons, closing the mouth and not speaking lightly" points directly to modern humanity's anxiety of expression. We are too eager to speak, to declare, to output — forgetting the value of "concealment." Discretion in speech is not silence-as-reticence; it is the refusal to squander one's spirit at an inopportune moment. 🍂
First: Only by knowing "lack" can one "supplement." The author candidly admits the preceding chapters "could not attain purity and unity," that "subtle points were incomplete in detail," and then achieves completeness through supplementation. This attitude is itself a form of practice: not pursuing perfection in one grand stroke, but continuously correcting, supplementing, and refining. Facing our own inadequacies, we need not be anxious or defensive; supplementing what is lacking is itself progress. ⛰
Second: The balance between yin and yang, civil and martial. Jia, Bing, Wu, Geng, Ren are "floating" and "martial"; Yi, Ding, Ji, Xin, Gui are "sinking" and "civil." Human nature contains both aspects: advance and retreat, expression and silence, action and waiting. The question is not about taking sides but about "each attaining its measure" — knowing when to be civil and when to be martial, when to float and when to sink.
Third: The wisdom of "the sovereign withdrawing deep within." The image of deep winter reminds us: when circumstances are unfavorable, when the time is not yet ripe, when one's strength is insufficient — the most fitting choice is deep concealment. This is not retreat but the preservation of genuine vitality. A common error of modern people is confusing "busyness" with "living," "speaking out" with "existing," and "surface prosperity" with "genuine growth." The bamboos and trees of winter appear withered and wounded, but their roots are secretly accumulating vitality for the coming year. 🌙
The most worth-pondering proposition of this chapter is: "The Great Mystery has no form to receive it — void and still, it cannot be perceived, and all external frameworks and outlines return to dissolution."
This touches upon the core paradox of Daoist philosophy: the Way cannot be spoken, yet one must use speech to guide others to it. The author expends enormous effort constructing the vast framework of Heavenly Stems, Five Phases, yin-yang, civil-martial — and then says at the end, "the frameworks and outlines dissolve." These structures ultimately must be transcended and undone. This is entirely consistent with the Zhuangzi's "getting the fish and forgetting the trap" and "getting the hare and forgetting the snare": concepts are rafts for crossing the river; upon reaching the other shore, one should set them down.
Yet "if there is error, the thread of events is lost; if words are improper, they bring ruin upon themselves" reminds us: before arrival, without the raft one cannot cross the river. Thus "I establish in addition these Four Images to awaken those who are still blind among later students" — for those not yet enlightened, symbols and models remain necessary. Within this lies a delicate twofoldness: the true Way cannot be spoken, yet without speaking, one cannot guide others to the Way. The deepest-reaching teacher knows when to establish frameworks, and also knows when to dismantle them. 🍃
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This content is based on a classical Daoist text provided for traditional cultural study and life reference only; it does not constitute religious, medical, or investment advice.