Qǐzhēn jí 啟真集
Anthology of Expounding Truth
by 劉志淵 (撰, hào Tōngxuán zǐ 通玄子, 1186–1244); edited by 李志全 (編); preface by 董師言 (序) dated 1244
About the work
A three-juan Quánzhēn 全真 nèidān 內丹 anthology, preserved in the Zhèngtǒng Dàozàng 正統道藏 (DZ 0248 / CT 248 = TC 247), 洞真部 方法類. The work collects the writings of Liú Zhìyuán 劉志淵 (hào Tōngxuán zǐ 通玄子; Jīnfēng shān 金峰山 native, from Xīcí Gāolóu lǐ 西慈高樓里, 1186–1244), a direct disciple of Wáng Jíchāng 王吉昌 (Chāorán zǐ 超然子, whose writings are collected in [[KR5a0248|DZ 247 Huìzhēn jí]]). Juan 1 collects Liú’s regular verses — seventy-one quatrains and four octaves. Juan 2 collects fifty-six lyrics (cí 詞) set to twenty-seven tunes, of which fifteen tunes are also used in the Huìzhēn jí; the set opens with Mǎntíng fāng 滿庭芳, a Quánzhēn favourite. Juan 3 contains further lyrics, verses and the obituary notice (3.13b–14b). The compiler is Lǐ Zhìquán 李志全 (1191–1261), at the time already assisting the Quánzhēn leader Sòng Défāng 宋德方 with the 1244 canon.
Prefaces
Preface by Dǒng Shīyán 董師言, the “Old Man of Fèngyuán of Tóngyáng Jìnzhōnglǐ” (同羊盡忠里鳳原老人), dated the jiǎchén 甲辰 zhònglǚ 仲呂 (fourth) month, twenty-second day (1244): “Quietly I consider: to set aright the four seasons of spring, summer, autumn, winter, one must rely on a finger pointing — so may it be known; to reach the subtle and marvellous, the profound and communicative, one must rely on words — so may it be grasped. Yet words are only the shadow of the perceiving mind, and letters only the shadow of words; meaning is the shadow of the heart, speech its echo; there is in the end no true substance whereby principle can be exhausted. And so, when the two mysteries — yào 徼 and miào 妙 — are dissolved, all hundred negations cut off, and no dharma may be approached, for what would one use words? Still, principle unspoken by the inscription would be like fish without the fǎnɡ 筌 trap — and the fish could not be sought; like the hare without the tí 蹄 snare — and the hare could not be caught. Words are, in general, the trap and snare of fish and hare, sufficient to order the supreme Way and manage the machinery of the immortals; how then may they be forgotten? Hence the sages wrote — the Yīnfú 陰符 and the Dàodé 道德* elucidate the essence of the marvellous ground; the worthies, modelling themselves upon the sages, compose books — the Chōngxū 冲虛 and Nánhuá 南華* classics are dedicated to leading the post-awakened into the sage realm. How can this be without the aid of words? And in the recent era, the five zhēn of the Pānxī 磻溪 line, the Tán–Mǎ 譚馬 figures of the jīnyù shuǐyún 金玉水雲 titles — none fail to sound the mystery-wind, brighten the mirror of knowledge; like white moon in a clear sky, they appear in a thousand pools, enabling those who savour the Way to chew the rich morsel, recognize the direction, and not fall into the ford of confusion. Is this not, then, because words may illuminate principle? Then there are those who, holding to the dragon-scale and clinging to the phoenix-pinion, expound the Way and leave instruction, save the drowning and guide the lost — my teacher Tōngxuán 通玄 is such a one. The master’s surname was Liú, his name Zhìyuán, of Xīcí Gāolóulǐ; by nature compassionate since childhood, he was drawn to the mystery-current, and of the Great-Vehicle scriptures there was none he did not closely study. In maturity he met the rise of the Dào and the decline of the other teachings, and under Chāorán zǐ 超然子 he received the teachings on nourishing the zhēn 真, preserving the plain, seeing one’s nature, and recognizing one’s mind in wúwéi 無為. Then he renounced what the multitude cherish, took up what the multitude reject, and in pure-hearted thought entered the Gate of the Many Marvels…” The preface goes on to extol Liú’s practice, the swift and clear character of his writing, his liberation from the body and ascent beyond form after a single sixth probing of níwán 泥丸; recounts the afterward-search by his disciple Lǐ Zhìquán and the colleague Liú Zhìjiān 劉志堅, who together with the memories of acquaintances collected and arranged the three-juan text called Qǐzhēn; and closes with Dǒng’s diffident apology for his own unworthy preface. Dated the jiǎchén year (1244), signed Dǒng Shīyán.
Abstract
Vincent Goossaert, in Schipper & Verellen eds., The Taoist Canon (2004) 2:1167 (§3.B.9, The Quánzhēn Order), observes that a preface by the otherwise unknown Dǒng Shīyán, dated 1244, identifies the author as a disciple of Wáng Jíchāng (author of the Huìzhēn jí KR5a0248). The obituary notice at 3.13b–14b, which largely repeats the preface, specifies that Liú Zhìyuán died aged fifty-nine (hence 1186–1244). The compiler Lǐ Zhìquán (1191–1261) was at the time aiding Sòng Défāng 宋德方 (1183–1247) with the compilation of the 1244 canon (see [[KR5a0973|DZ 973 Gānshuǐ xiānyuán lù]] 8.1). The preface dates the completion of the collection to the jiǎchén year (1244). The frontmatter brackets composition from the beginning of Liú’s mature work (ca. 1220) to the compilation of the anthology (1244).
Translations and research
No full translation. Standard scholarly entry: Vincent Goossaert, “Qizhen ji,” in Schipper & Verellen eds., The Taoist Canon (2004), Vol. 2 §3.B.9, 1167. On thirteenth-century Quánzhēn anthologies: Pierre Marsone, Wang Chongyang et la fondation du Quanzhen (Paris 2010); Vincent Goossaert, La création du taoïsme moderne (EHESS dissertation 1997).
Links
- Kanseki Repository KR5a0249
- Schipper & Verellen, The Taoist Canon (2004), Vol. 2 §3.B.9, 1167.