Sensing the Coming Change
Less sunlight, cold temperatures, dense rain, and often deep snow are some of the weather-based markers that have indicated this Yin time of the year. As we have talked about in the previous Qi nodes, we have been living in a time of expanding Yin power that came into its own grandeur during the Winter Solstice and has continued to expand itself outward, growing colder, wetter, darker, and more profound. We have talked about fatigue, natural melancholy, and self-reflective nostalgia as the physical and psychological markers that are common to this time of the year. And we have talked about leaning in to the natural rhythms of any part of the year so that we can have the fullest experience available.
Now with this last Qi node of the year, we can start to feel something slightly different from what has been “in the air” for last several nodes. Now that Yin has expanded to its fullest self, it has exhausted the last of its momentum and its decline accelerates. Yin in decay is a much different creature than Yang at the end of its cycle. While Yang can lash out with heat, intensity, and violence, Yin’s death throws are more like a vacuum pulling inward, or a whirlpool in the middle of the deepest, darkest lake.
During this final node of Yin’s dominance, it can be difficult to find our motivation to do almost anything. Activity is exhausting. Creativity is elusive. And feeling like a distinct individual driven toward goals and ends is less certain. It can sometimes even feel like the boundaries between what we are and what everything else is has become looser and less distinct. The great and expansive pool of Yin can dissolve our sense of “I” and turn us into the fertile ground from Yang is about to begin its rebirth. But despite this deep sucking inward, there is a change in the air. The grounds are beginning to shift because Spring approaches.
Navigating the Whirlpool
The wisdom necessary to experience the Qi of any given node without saddling ourselves with any preference or distain for one node or another is sometimes difficult to come by. Because of cultural pressures and sometimes overdeveloped senses of productivity and value, many people don’t want to be decoupled from their goals, however temporarily. And many of them definitely don’t want to feel awash in an eddy of universal inertia spiraling the metaphorical cosmic drain.
And yet this moment exists nonetheless. Feeling the pull toward dissolution and then resisting it is part of the human experience for most of us who remain embodied on this plane. Though some of us may resist less and end up exiting our embodiment, joining the flow of ancestors and history moving in the myriad directions of Dao. But most of us will pass through this cycle of Yin’s decline as we have dozens of times before and as our ancestors have done through countless cycles over countless eons.
Experiencing the “Ghost Nodes”
The feeling of disconnection is what marks this, and many of the Winter Qi nodes, as “ghost nodes.” Here I use the English word “ghost” because it’s perhaps the best word to capture what we’re going to discuss, but, like so many English words, it is loaded with expectations and is overly specific in meaning, especially as it tries to describe much more loose and open ended Chinese concepts. We’re talking here about the Chinese word 鬼 (guǐ) which is a literal ghost (ie the disembodied spirit of a former person), but it’s not Casper and it’s not poltergeist. The transition from living human to ghost is the normal process of dying from a Chinese Buddhist and Daoist perspective. These 鬼 (guǐ) exist as ancestors and continue to influence the living and will eventually “die” a second time as they dissolve into whatever is next for them. If you’re a modern Western person, this might sound something like a soul but that word isn’t quite it. 鬼 (guǐ) are not the “true” version of a person, finally manifest after they cast off their imperfect body. They are not divine in nature, and they don’t retire to any sort of heavenly reward (different Buddhist interpretations might include a Nirvana-peace plane for fully enlightened people, but we’ll stick with the folk Daoist folk tradition here). 鬼 (guǐ) are just people in a new form. Sometimes they last for a while and sometimes they don’t. Depending on circumstances they could also become 餓鬼 (èguǐ) or “hungry ghosts” and those are potentially more malevolent in nature (though still not horror movie ghosts).
One of the key components of 鬼 (guǐ) however, and how they relate to any group of Qi nodes, has to do with their inability to have dynamic human experiences as they did before they died. That is, their patterns become fixed or limited and/or they have a hard time distinguishing themselves from other things around them. This growing inability to define self or discern the nuances of appetite and conduct are key components of 鬼 (guǐ) and ultimately will lead to their dissolution and second “death.” It is even possible for living people to become 鬼 (guǐ) before they die, embracing certain disempowering philosophies or theologies or, on the other end of the spectrum, by overly asserting their “realness;” trying to hold on to power and purpose beyond its correct context. This is a sticky idea. I know.
The important part of the discussion is the idea that “humans” are dynamic creatures with complex and evolving appetites that exist as part of, and in relation to, the movements of the natural world. 鬼 (guǐ), by contrast, are limited in their choices and experiences. Their appetites have limited focus and their conduct no longer embraces the meta-principles of ebb and flow, yin and yang. These last several Qi nodes have taken on aspects of cosmic 鬼 (guǐ). That is, they have eroded our own sense of self and pushed us to confront the realm of past experience, old wisdom, nostalgia, and regret. The potency of these 鬼 (guǐ) qualities is such that it can feel like we will never emerge from the weight of them.
But of course we will. The cycle always continues turning. It is a circle after all, and not a line. Picking a beginning and an end is an arbitrary distinction. But knowing that all the elements of experience create the whole of this cycle is important to remember. January is not July, and each has its own distinct and important contexts to experience and embrace.