Category: Annotated Sources

When Maps Seemed to Fit

Like many, I was familiar with the popular New Age Buddhist chakra system: seven neatly stacked chakras (seven being a “cool” number, though traditional texts vary), each with a distinctive color, running from the perineum to the crown. According to this model, they are aligned along the spine and promise miraculous effects once they are “opened.” The practice was presented as a linear progression: open them one by one, starting with Muladhara, and when you finally reached the crown, enlightenment was supposedly attained.

I was also aware of the three channels — the central Sushumna, flanked by Ida and Pingala with their peculiar crisscrossing pattern, often associated with the caduceus and other esoteric interpretations.

The First Discrepancies

When I first felt the sensation exactly where the Buddhist chakra system depicts the first three chakras, I believed my experience fit this schema perfectly. But discrepancies soon emerged.

As my practice progressed, I discovered far more nodes where I could feel the sensation — not only along the spine but throughout the body. Furthermore, the clear feeling of flow suggested these “chakras” were open, yet no miracles occurred. I was particularly apprehensive about moving the sensation to the crown; if this constituted “opening” it, I expected something extraordinary, for better or worse. When I reluctantly directed my attention there and felt the sensation, nothing special happened. I heard no Tibetan trumpets of the Apocalypse.

This led me to a critical realization: either I wasn’t “opening” them correctly, or the supposed effects were not to be taken literally.

The Crisscrossing Mystery

Another source of confusion was the distinctive crisscrossing of Ida and Pingala. When I discovered my own lateral energy channels, they appeared as straight lines. The energy flowed vertically from one node to the next, up or down; it did not jump from right to left or vice versa.

A Body of Many Levels

Now, seeing that at each supposed chakra level there isn’t a single node but a constellation of eight — and discovering a total of fifteen levels instead of seven (including the extremities, which are entirely neglected in the classic model) — I concluded that the chakras are indeed located where the sensations occur, but their common descriptions are largely symbolic.

To me, they map stages of progress, but each stage must be cultivated throughout the entire network of the body, not at a single point.

The Elements Revisited

The first clue was the qualities attributed to the lower chakras: Muladhara to earth, Swadhisthana to water, Manipura to fire, and so on. This progression mirrored the evolving quality of the sensation itself as it refined — first viscous like lava, then fluid like water, next like a burning fire, then like air clearing the ashes, until it became so subtle that “ether” seemed a fitting description.

But this refinement was not confined to specific chakras. Muladhara, like all the others, began viscous and, through years of training, became ethereal. Swadhisthana did not begin fluid; it too followed the same path of refinement. The same was true for every node in the system.

Beyond Miracles

Similarly, the supposed miraculous effects were not tied to specific body areas but to stages in the perception of the energy body. I would say that “Levitation” was not physical but the internal sensation of zero gravity. The experience of being “as large as a mountain or as small as a grain of sand” described profound shifts in spatial perception.

The Missing Legs

Another puzzling omission was the neglect of the chakras in the legs, sometimes called the “lower chakras” in rare references and often linked to our primal, animal nature. Reading these texts felt like seeing Hic Sunt Dracones — here be dragons — a territory better avoided. Had I followed that advice, I would never have achieved the full integration of energy throughout my body.

My interpretation is again symbolic: before serious practice, one must master the basic instincts. This is the spirit of the often-skipped yamas and niyamas, which instruct us to approach practice without desires for power, recognizing our shared identity with others, and cultivating empathy and compassion.

The Practical Purpose of the Crossing

Finally, the classic crisscrossing of Ida and Pingala does not match my direct experience, where energy flows straight along the path of least resistance. In light of the procedures necessary for more advanced stages, I now see this is not an anatomical map, but a functional instruction. Interpreting the chakra system symbolically was for me the way from looking for miracles to mastering the practical procedures that awaken the central channel. It see it not as an anatomical description but as a practical instruction: to get results, don’t just move energy straight up the sides; consciously cross it from one lateral channel to the other.

This trains two opposing nodes simultaneously, a necessary condition for awakening the energy in the central channel — where the true transformation begins. If you follow a straight path, you’ll miss the party.

According to the classics, the Three Treasures—or San Bao (三宝) in Chinese—are three essential energies or substances that sustain human life and represent the foundational layers of our existence. They are:

• Jing (精) — Essence / Vital Base: The most fundamental, dense, and physical form of energy.
• Qi (气) — Energy / Life Force: The vital force that flows through the body.
• Shen (神) — Spirit / Consciousness: Our awareness, mind, and emotional balance.

Jing is the foundation for Qi, and Qi is the foundation for Shen. A weak Jing leads to deficient Qi, which in turn results in an unanchored or disturbed Shen. The ultimate goal in many internal alchemy (Neidan) practices is to refine and transmute these substances upward: to conserve Jing and transform it into Qi, and to purify Qi to nourish and refine Shen—leading to spiritual awakening and longevity.

Energy, Orgasm, and Misunderstanding

In practical terms, Qi corresponds to the neural activity perceived as an orgasmic sensation, and Jing refers to the seminal fluid. The practice consists of maintaining the feeling while avoiding ejaculation (in men) and guiding that sensation upward along the spine — a process described in the classics as the reversal.

This ascending sensation feels like a current. The authors of these theories — unaware of the nervous system — observed that ejaculation ended the feeling. From this correlation, they concluded that the sensation was sublimated Jing, renamed Qi. Modern physiology clarifies the misunderstanding: what they perceived as a “flow of energy” is in fact the propagation of neural and autonomic signals along the spine. The emission of semen merely ends the feedback loop that sustains the feeling. Correlation was mistaken for causation.

The True Function: Training Consciousness

Once the decoupling of orgasm from ejaculation is achieved, Jing is out of the game. The only remaining actors are the feeling and the awareness—Qi and Shen, or however one prefers to name them. The sensation acts as a powerful anchor for meditation, training awareness to focus and release thought. This concentrated awareness, in turn, amplifies the sensation — a virtuous cycle. This is the essence of dual cultivation. The ultimate goal is a refined Shen — a consciousness able to see through appearances and recognize its true nature. Daoists call this realization the Dao; Buddhists call it Samadhi.

As focused attention is the key, overthinking the theoretical concept of “Jing” becomes a distraction that halts progress.

Literalism and Its Dangers

Yet even today, some take the ancient writings literally — with disastrous consequences. I’ve seen online forums where self-proclaimed teachers advise “reabsorbing” semen, inspecting urine for turbidity, or even inserting a cannula into the urethra to “train the bladder to absorb fluids,” citing legendary masters who allegedly ingested mercury. No further comment is needed on this level of absurdity.

The Myth of Loss

A related misreading concerns the classic injunction to “avoid losses.” The real message was simple: avoid ejaculation to sustain the feeling. This is the meaning of the phrase, “If the plum has not yet blossomed, it is too early; if it has already blossomed, it is too late.” There is a narrow window of opportunity to “catch” the Qi — during the first stirrings of orgasm, before ejaculation. If ejaculation occurs, it is not a catastrophe; it is merely a missed opportunity. There will be many more, as Jing (semen) is continually replenished by the body.

Once the skill is stable, occasional losses are inconsequential. In my Tantric practice, such episodes simply made my body temporarily more yin — more receptive — in the next session, which was actually beneficial. Yet many practitioners treat ejaculation as a disaster, believing it erases weeks of effort. In my opinion, this anxiety is unfounded. The body naturally releases excess fluid during nocturnal emissions when full — a physiological fact, not a spiritual failure.

The Gender Bias and Its Origins

The distortions reach their peak when addressing women. Since women do not ejaculate, ancient theorists asked: what, then, is their Jing? The answer they proposed was menstrual blood. From there arose the absurd conclusion that women, because of their “monthly losses,” were less capable — or even incapable — of spiritual attainment.

Beyond its misogyny, this reasoning may have been politically convenient. In ancient China, dual cultivation was often linked to martial training — a strategic resource before gunpowder. Women commonly married into other clans, sometimes potential rivals. Restricting their access to energetic techniques was a form of secrecy, not metaphysics.

Yet this bias persisted for centuries, despite the evident fact that women are often better suited to sustaining the orgasmic flow. Their physiology supports multiple orgasmic modes — the clitoral (explosive, similar to male ejaculation), the G-spot (absorptive), and the cervical (deeply enveloping).

A Grounded Conclusion

From my experience, the principle is simple:

• The essence of the practice is to sustain the energetic current as long as possible and move it with the attention.
• This requires avoiding ejaculation while maintaining the feeling. If it happens, you will have plenty of opportunities, simply start again.
• Seminal losses are natural. Don’t worry, your body replenishes it continuously for many years, and losses don’t harm your abilities once you get them.
• Far from being a limitation, the female physiology offers a head start in inner alchemy. 

In the end, correctly interpreting the three treasures reveals they are not substances to be hoarded, but stages in the refinement of awareness itself—from sensation to perception, from energy to clarity.

The meaning of 慧命經

A literal translation of 慧命經 (Huì Mìng Jīng) would be The Canon of Wisdom and Life. However, as is often the case in classical Chinese, a deeper meaning is hidden within its characters—each carrying layers of symbolic and philosophical nuance.

• 慧 (Huì) means “wisdom,” equivalent to prajñā in Buddhist terminology. In this context, however, it does not refer to intellectual understanding but to transcendent, non-conceptual awareness—the Primordial Spirit (元神, Yuánshén). To cultivate Huì is to purify and stabilize Shén (神), which in practical terms refers to consciousness itself.
• 命 (Mìng) is usually translated as “life,” “destiny,” or “vitality.” In neidan (internal alchemy), it represents the vital aspect of being—the manifestation of our essential energies, rooted in Essence (精, Jīng) and Vital Force (氣, Qì). To cultivate Mìng is to strengthen, refine, and preserve these energies—the life of the body and its animating principle.
• 經 (Jīng), commonly rendered as “classic” or “scripture,” originally meant “warp,” the fixed, lengthwise threads in a loom upon which the weft is woven. Its later use to denote canonical texts is metaphorical: these teachings are the warp onto which the threads of practice are interwoven.

Thus, the title Huiming Jing could also be understood as “Weaving Consciousness and vital energy.” Interestingly, the Sanskrit word Tantra (तन्त्र) literally means “loom,” “warp,” or “weave.” Tantra, too, is defined by integration—of the mundane and the sacred, the masculine and the feminine, wisdom (prajñā) and method (upāya). These are the “threads” woven into a single fabric of realization.

This bold integrative vision—uniting body and spirit—was the path championed by Liu Huayang, who called it “dual practice.” It stood in contrast to the prevailing Chan orthodoxy of his time, which, although rooted in the Mahāyāna ideal of non-duality, often emphasized an ascetic, mind-only approach reminiscent of Theravāda.

The Historical Context: A Banned Practice

The Huiming Jing was published in 1794, sixty-two years after the Yongzheng Emperor’s edict of 1732, which banned what he termed the “Dual Practice of the Mind School and the Law School” (心智雙修 / 宗教雙修). The emperor—himself a devout Buddhist—favored a highly orthodox form of Chan. He argued that dual cultivation led to “disregarding the monastic rules and neglecting the teachings of the patriarchs,” framing it as a moral and spiritual corruption that threatened both religious and social order.

Liu Huayang’s Response and Vision

In response, Liu Huayang composed the Huiming Jing to demonstrate that both the Chan and Daoist paths ultimately aimed at the same realization, and that dual practice was in fact the more effective means. In his introduction, he cites his teacher Hu Yun:

“The dual cultivation of Buddhism has now been severed and extinguished. You must continue its lifeline, in order to ferry across those who have affinity.”
(佛教雙修，今已斷滅，子當續其命脈，以度有緣)

He then openly criticizes the degeneration of Chan orthodoxy:

“I have observed that those who seek the Dao mostly take the Recorded Sayings (Yulu) as their authority. Yet within these records, there are truthful words and reckless words. Those of shallow learning, not knowing the Tathāgata’s Dao of Huiming, mistakenly cling to slogan-Chan (taoyu Chan), becoming the lowest of fools and harming themselves through these recorded sayings.”
(余見世之求道者，多宗語錄，而語錄中有實語者，有妄語者，彼下學不知如來慧命之道，誤入套語禪，終為下愚，轉受語錄之害)

Revealing the Secrets of the Ancients

Declaring his purpose, Liu Huayang writes:

“I have drawn diagrams and established images, opening the secrets of the ancient Buddhas and revealing the primordial pivot of the patriarchs. It is truly a ladder and a raft to receive and guide later learners.”
(故纂集是書，命曰慧命經，畫圖立相，開古佛之秘密，洩師祖之元機，洵接引後學之梯筏也)

He even goes so far as to claim that his book alone is sufficient for enlightenment:

“Using simple and direct words, I have taken the treasure of the Buddha and laid it all out completely. Learners who encounter this慧命經 will feel as though it were a personal transmission. They need only to strengthen their will, refine their energy, and practice diligently; it will not be necessary to seek other teachers. Thus, Buddhahood can be realized immediately.”
(今以淺率之言，將佛寶流傳，和盤托出，俾世之學者，睹此慧命經，即若親口相傳，只須勵志精勤，不必他山求助，則佛果可以立証，此余苦心求師悟道之本願也)

In other words, Liu claims that the Huiming Jing contains all the necessary teachings for realization—an assertion both bold and controversial. Personally, I find this unlikely, much more for those who have not directly experienced (rather than merely imagined) the energy dynamics he describes. Still, it is a remarkable and audacious statement of spiritual autonomy.

Finding the Text Today

I first encountered the text through James Michael Nicholson’s 2000 master’s thesis, The Huiming Jing: A Translation and Discussion (University of British Columbia), available through UBC Library Open Collections. The full classical Chinese text is also accessible on ctext.org, where it can be read online, machine-translated, or copied into an AI translator for study.

Unfortunately, the ctext.org version omits the eight essential diagrams with their handwritten annotations, which illustrate the key stages of the alchemical process:

• Path of the End of Leakage
• Chart of the Six Phases of the Dharma-Wheel
• Chart of the Two Meridians: Conception and Governing
• Chart of the Embryo of the Tao
• Chart of Sending Forth the Embryo
• Chart of the Transformation Body
• Chart of Facing the Wall
• Chart of Dissolution into Empty Void

Liu’s claim that a text can replace a teacher is a bold statement of spiritual autonomy. While I remain skeptical of literalism, the process of weaving consciousness and vital energy described in these eight diagrams remains a remarkable ladder for the independent practitioner.

I plan to reproduce and discuss these figures in future posts.