PureInsight | December 31, 2025
[PureInsight.org]
“Eastward I reach Jieshi, to gaze upon the great sea.
The waters surge and ripple; the islanded peaks stand tall.
Trees grow thick in clusters; grasses flourish in abundance.
The autumn wind is bleak and restless; vast waves rise in swells.
The sun and moon seem to rise from within its depths;
The Milky Way shines bright, as if emerging from its midst.
How fortunate and inspired I feel—I sing this song to express my aspirations.”
This poem was written by Cao Cao on his triumphant return from the northern campaign against the Wuhuan. It was composed during his ascent of Mount Jieshi. It is generally believed that the poet, through the majestic and magnificent scenery of the sea, expressed his desire to achieve great accomplishments, unify the Central Plains, and his broad-minded ambition. This interpretation is certainly not wrong. However, from the perspective of cultivation, if we truly experience the environment and mindset the author was in at that moment—and consider the social atmosphere of that era, which emphasized faith in the divine, reverence for Heaven, and the pursuit of immortality—we can understand that these lines are actually a reflection of life that arose after the author witnessed the cyclical workings of the Heavenly Dao.
“Eastward I reach Jieshi, to gaze upon the great sea.” These two lines indicate the location from which he viewed the great ocean: the poet climbed to the summit of Mount Jieshi, standing high above the sea. His view was vast and unobstructed, taking in the full grandeur of the ocean at a glance. It is often said that the higher you stand, the farther you see. Here, in fact, there is a subtle implication: the perspective from which the author viewed the sea at that moment was far beyond that of ordinary people. The following ten lines unfold from this elevated vantage point. The word “gaze” governs the entire poem, reflecting its expansive imagery and majestic momentum.
“The waters surge and ripple; the islanded peaks stand tall. Trees grow thick in clusters, grasses flourish in abundance. The autumn wind is bleak and restless; vast waves rise in swells.” These lines describe the scene before his eyes—mysterious and magnificent. The language is straightforward yet powerful. Since many interpretations already exist, it is unnecessary to repeat them here.
“The sun and moon seem to rise from within its depths; The Milky Way gleams bright, as if emerging from its midst.” These lines are the very essence of the poem. Ordinary readers tend to think this is purely the poet’s imagination, since Cao Cao climbed the mountain during the day and could not literally see the sunrise and stars at that time. Moreover, the sun, moon, and stars do not actually rise from the sea. But in reality, other dimensions coexist in the same place at the same time. In that other dimension of Mount Jieshi, the alternation of sun, moon, and stars truly existed simultaneously and appeared as if they emerged from the sea. Ordinary people cannot see this—but at that particular moment, Cao Cao did. This also shows that Cao Cao possessed a strong spiritual foundation. The scene he witnessed was vast and overwhelming, far beyond what a normal person’s physical eyes could see from Mount Jieshi.
Although Cao Cao was a formidable leader, he too was deeply moved by this grand cycle of the Heavenly Dao. We can imagine the scene: he stood on the mountaintop, with respectful civil and military officials gathered behind him, surrounding him like stars around the moon. He was, in worldly terms, at the peak of human glory. Yet when faced with the unimaginably immense, transcendent spectacle before him, his heart overflowed with emotion. He had unified the North and achieved great power, yet compared to the ceaseless and eternal rotation of sun and moon, the vast cycle of Heaven’s law—what did his achievements amount to? Merely a fleeting moment. Both he and his so-called legacy were insignificant. Shocked and humbled, he developed a profound reverence for Heaven and a yearning for the eternal nature of life.
“How fortunate and inspired I feel— I sing this song to express my aspirations.” Although this conclusion is a conventional formula used when poetry was meant to be sung, here it is a literal expression. After witnessing such magnificent and awe-inspiring sights, the author felt joy beyond words.
In 1082 CE, nearly 900 years later, Su Shi wrote “The First Ode on the Red Cliffs” after boating on the river. In it he says, “A mayfly cast adrift in the vastness of Heaven and Earth, a tiny grain upon the great sea.
I mourn the brevity of my life; I envy the endless flow of the Yangtze.”
Reading these lines carefully, we see that although the two writers lived in different eras, with different identities and circumstances—and although both wrote about natural scenery—what they truly expressed was the same: reverence for the Heavenly Dao, the pursuit of life’s eternity, and a deep awareness of their own insignificance.
Returning to one’s true nature and attaining the eternity of life is a longing that lies deep within the human heart. Cao Cao, Su Shi, and many other renowned figures possessed profound spiritual foundations, which allowed them to perceive this truth.
Chinese version: https://www.zhengjian.org/node/299127
