Fu, the Tallies, are essence, spirit, and the hun and po souls.
Guanyinzi said: Water can be divided and can be joined: essence has no “other.” Fire depends on oil and on firewood: spirit has no “self.” So the ears, though covered, can hear from front and back—no other; wisdom is lofty—no other; one, the odd number—no other; winter's withering follows the things of autumn—no other; black cannot be changed—no other; the north, which is long-lived—no other: all these are essence. The tongue works with the teeth, and the teeth form speech—no self; ritual is humble—no self; two, the even number—no self; summer depends on the things of spring—no self; red can be changed—no self; the south, which is short-lived—no self: all these are spirit. Because essence has no other, when rice is husked its essence remains; because spirit has no self, when a ghost possesses a thing its spirit appears. One who keeps his essence whole forgets right and wrong and forgets gain and loss; what is in this is not that. One who embraces his spirit is at times dark and at times bright, at times strong and at times weak; what is in that is not this.
He said: Essence and spirit are water and fire. The Five Phases give birth to one another and destroy one another; their coming has no head and their going has no tail. So not one drop of my essence either exists or perishes, and not one instant of my spirit either arises or ceases. Only with no self and no other, no head and no tail, does one merge in the dark unknown with heaven and earth.
He said: Essence is water, the po soul is metal, spirit is fire, and the hun soul is wood. Essence governs water and the po governs metal; metal produces water, so essence is stored by the po. Spirit governs fire and the hun governs wood; wood produces fire, so spirit is stored by the hun. Water, as a thing, can store metal and let it rest and can moisten wood and make it flourish; that is how it separates the hun and po. Fire, as a thing, can melt metal and dissolve it and can burn wood and consume it; that is how it merges the hun and po in the dark unknown. Essence in heaven is cold, on earth is water, in man is essence. Spirit in heaven is heat, on earth is fire, in man is spirit. The po in heaven is dryness, on earth is metal, in man is the po. The hun in heaven is wind, on earth is wood, in man is the hun. If I join my essence with the essence of heaven, earth, and the myriad things, as ten thousand waters can join into one water; if I join my spirit with the spirit of heaven, earth, and the myriad things, as ten thousand fires can join into one fire; if I join my po with the po of heaven, earth, and the myriad things, as metal, being what it is, can join different metals and melt them into one metal; if I join my hun with the hun of heaven, earth, and the myriad things, as wood, being what it is, can graft different woods and grow them into one tree—then heaven, earth, and the myriad things are all my essence, my spirit, my po, and my hun. What is it that dies, and what is it that lives?
He said: In the movement of the Five Phases, from essence there is the hun, from the hun there is spirit, from spirit there is intention, from intention there is the po, and from the po there is essence. The Five Phases circle round without ceasing, and so my false mind flows and turns through creation for hundreds of millions of years without ever reaching an end. Yet though kernels and sprouts give rise to one another in who knows how many tens of thousands of plants, great as heaven and earth are, they cannot make a kernel sprout in empty air. Though hens and eggs give rise to one another in who knows how many tens of thousands of birds, subtle as yin and yang are, they cannot make a hen without a cock lay a living egg. Only if all that comes from me is gathered up in a single breath are things changed into me, so that there is no thing that is not me. Then who could change what are called the Five Phases?
He said: The multitude use the po to govern the hun—when metal is in excess, wood is insufficient. The sage uses the hun to move the po—when wood is in excess, metal is insufficient. For when the po is stored, the hun goes with it; when the hun roams, the po follows it. By day the hun lodges in the eyes; by night the po dwells in the liver. Lodging in the eyes, one can see; dwelling in the liver, one can dream. In seeing, the hun makes no distinctions; to make distinctions and call them heaven and earth is the habit of the hun. In dreaming, the po makes no distinctions; to make distinctions and call them other and self is the habit of the po. Fire produces earth, so spirit produces intention; earth produces metal, so intention produces the po. What spirit moves is not called spirit but intention; what intention moves is not called intention but the po. Only the sage knows that the self has no self and things have no things, and that all exist because thought reckons them. Therefore when the myriad things come, I face them with my nature and not with my mind. Nature is the mind before it stirs; with no mind there is no intention. For without fire there is no earth, and without intention there is no po; for without earth there is no metal. When one is not present, all five are abolished. One who can merge heaven, earth, and the myriad things into his hun can merge heaven, earth, and the myriad things into his po. All the marvels of creation are my hun, and all that creation holds is my po; then there is not a single thing that can make me its servant. (Note: “dwells in the liver” should read “dwells in the lungs.”)
He said: The graph for hun joins “ghost” with “cloud,” and the graph for po joins “ghost” with “white”; so it is in the script. A ghost is what a person becomes after death. Cloud is wind, and wind is wood; white is qi, and qi is metal. Wind disperses, so it is light and clear, and the light and clear rise to heaven. Metal is hard, so it is heavy and turbid, and the heavy and turbid sink into the earth. When light and clear, the po follows the hun and rises; when heavy and turbid, the hun follows the po and sinks. Those who rise through benevolence become attendants of the Wood Star (Jupiter); those who rise through righteousness become attendants of the Metal Star (Venus); those who rise through ritual become attendants of the Fire Star (Mars); those who rise through wisdom become attendants of the Water Star (Mercury); those who rise through good faith become attendants of the Earth Star (Saturn). Those who sink through lack of benevolence are harmed by wood; through lack of righteousness, by metal; through lack of ritual, by fire; through lack of wisdom, by water; through lack of good faith, by earth. When hun and po are half and half, one remains in the human world. The rising hun is noble and the sinking po lowly; the numinous hun is worthy and the malevolent po foolish; the light hun is bright and the heavy po dark; the soaring hun becomes feathered creatures and the dull po furred creatures; the bright hun becomes a spirit and the dim po becomes a ghost. Their forms and dwellings, their understanding and likings, all accord with the Five Phases. Only because the numbers of the Five Phases are uneven and irregular are the myriad things so many that they fill heaven and earth and still do not stop. With the five affairs assigned to the Five Phases, and the Five Phases making the five kinds of creatures, how could it all be told? It is like cracking tortoise shells and counting yarrow stalks: when sincerity is perfect, it accords of itself and the Five Phases respond. If sincerity is not perfect, however one cracks and counts, not one will respond. The sage borrows things to roam the world, and the Five Phases cannot but answer him.
He said: When the five are complete, there is the hun. The hun is consciousness, the eye is essence, and color is spirit. What sees is the hun; ears, eyes, mouth, nose, mind, and the like are born here. Loving is essence and becomes the father-root of that life; contemplating is spirit and becomes the mother-root of that life. Though loving and contemplating differ, both arise from consciousness; the root of that life's birth lies in what is born there. One is the father, so one receives qi from the father, and qi is water. Two is the mother, so one receives blood from the mother, and blood is fire. With a father and a mother, that life is born. Yet loving without consciousness is like the joining of a lock, and contemplating without consciousness is like the shining of a lamp. If my consciousness does not stir, how could my life exist?
He said: It is like a drumstick striking a drum. The drum's form is what I have; the drum's sound is what I feel. The stick has gone, yet the lingering sound remains; in the end it too ceases to exist. The drum's form is like my essence; the drum's sound is like my spirit; the lingering sound is like the hun and po. Knowing that they suddenly go and suddenly come, what have the qi of the Five Phases to do with me?
He said: For a fruit's kernel to grow, water, fire, and earth must all be present; then generation follows generation without end. If the three are not all present—as in great drought, great flood, or a great lump of clay—none of them can give birth to anything. Now essence is water, spirit is fire, and intention is earth; these three originally do not meet. Only man joins them through the roots of his senses, and so within them he perversely sees that there are affairs. It is like a practitioner of spells, who can see many things in utter nothingness.
He said: The hun is wood. Wood is rooted in the water of winter and flowers in the fire of summer. So a man's hun is stored in the essence of night and appears in the spirit of day. Joined with essence, what one sees is oneself alone, for essence has never had others. Joined with spirit, what one sees is the same as what others see, for spirit has never had a self.
He said: One who knows that this body is like a body in a dream, seen according to one's feelings, can make the spirit fly as the self and roam in Grand Clarity. One who knows that these things are like things in a dream, seen according to one's feelings, can condense essence into things and ride across the eight wildernesses. By this Way, one who can see essence and spirit may live long, and one who can forget essence and spirit may transcend life. Inhaling qi to nourish essence is like metal producing water; inhaling wind to nourish spirit is like wood producing fire; thus one borrows from without to prolong essence and spirit. Rinsing with water to nourish essence is why essence is never exhausted; rubbing up fire to nourish spirit is why spirit is never exhausted; thus one borrows from within to prolong essence and spirit. As for forgetting essence and spirit and transcending life, I have spoken of it already.
He said: When a person is diligent in ritual, his spirit does not race outward, and he can gather his spirit. When a person is diligent in wisdom, his essence does not shift outward, and he can hold in his essence. Benevolence is yang and bright and can lighten the hun; righteousness is yin and dark and can control the po.
He said: The dung beetle rolls its ball. When the ball is finished, it concentrates its thought upon it, and a white grub comes to be in the ball, which soon sheds its shell and becomes a cicada. If the beetle did not think, how would the grub be white?
He said: A cook made crab soup and left one leg on the table. The crab was already soup, yet the leftover leg still moved. So life and death are just the gathering and scattering of one qi. There is neither birth nor death, yet people perversely reckon it as life and death.
He said: Some die standing, some die sitting, some die lying down, some die of illness, some die of drugs. Death is the same for all, without any difference between one and another. As for a person who knows the Tao, he does not see life, and so does not see death.
He said: People who loathe life and death and those who seek to transcend life and death both suffer a great affliction. It is like a magician: if he has a mind that loathes life and death or seeks to transcend life and death, he is only called a demon, not called the Tao.
He said: Among those who reckon about life and death, some say that at death the self exists; some say that at death the self does not exist; some say that at death the self both exists and does not exist; some say that at death the self neither exists nor does not exist. Some say one should rejoice, some say one should fear, some say one should accept it, some say one should transcend it. The more their consciousness and feelings change, the more they gallop about without end. They do not know that my life and death are like the hands of a horse or the wings of an ox: originally they do not exist, and yet they are not nonexistent either. It is like something that, though it runs into water and fire, can be neither burned by the one nor drowned by the other.