Everyday Alchemy: Understanding Your Heart

In Chinese medicine, each season is associated with a particular organ system, and each organ system governs more than just its anatomical function. It holds emotional qualities, mental tendencies, physiological rhythms, and relationships with the natural world. Summer belongs to the Heart. Its element is Fire, its direction is south, and its emotion is joy. The Heart governs blood and vessels, houses shén 神, and provides the conditions necessary for consciousness to reside.

We are used to thinking of the heart in terms of circulation, and that’s not wrong. In Chinese medicine, the Heart is indeed responsible for moving blood through the vessels. But the Heart does more than deliver blood and oxygen. It has a dimension that expands beyond its anatomical reality to other aspects of the human experience. It governs presence—our ability to be aware, to make sense of experience, to relate to others with clarity and warmth. The Heart is considered the emperor of the body not because it controls everything directly, but because it must be well-regulated for everything else to function smoothly. If the Heart is unsettled, the whole system feels it.

The term shén 神 is often translated as "spirit," but this can lead to confusion and conflation with Western notion of a soul or of something intrinsically you that persists beyond embodiment. Instead it is more accurate to think of shén as consciousness, awareness, or the organizing intelligence that allows a person to be themselves. It is indeed a collection of functions we think of as an idividual, but the Chinese concept doesn’t extend that individuality beyond the terms of your embodiment, ie beyond death. Shén includes the capacity to think clearly, speak coherently, connect with others, and experience emotions in a regulated way. Shén is not a separate part of you—it is the quality of your presence when all the systems are working together well. And the Heart is where that presence resides.

In the natural world, Summer is the time when everything is at full bloom. Plants stretch toward the sun. Days are long and bright. People tend to stay up later, move more, and gather together. It is a season of fullness and activity, and this matches the energetics of the Heart and Fire. When we are in balance, this expansion feels easy and joyous. There is a natural generosity to summer, a warmth not just in temperature but in temperament. It is often easier to connect, to laugh, to forgive, and to share meals or conversation without effort.

But Fire, by its nature, is volatile. It can nourish, but it can also overheat. And when there is too much Fire—whether from lifestyle, emotional intensity, heat in the environment, or internal imbalance—the Heart becomes agitated. Instead of joy, we get restlessness. Instead of connection, we get emotional overexposure. Instead of clear thought, we get racing minds or difficulty sleeping. This is the shadow side of summer, and the part that many people don’t recognize until they are already overwhelmed.

In clinic, this often shows up as insomnia, anxiety, irritability, or heart palpitations. The person may not feel particularly “stressed” in the way they think of stress, but they describe a kind of internal fluttering, an inability to settle, or a sense that everything is just a little too much. There may be vivid dreams, difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep, or emotional lability that seems out of proportion to events. This is often a sign that the Heart—and the shén—are not well housed.

The classical texts say that the Heart houses the shén when the blood is sufficient, the yīn is anchored, and there is not too much internal heat. The blood provides a kind of resting place for consciousness, a cool and quiet chamber for the awareness to dwell. When blood is weak, scattered, or hot, the shén becomes unmoored. We start to feel untethered. It becomes harder to organize our thoughts, regulate our emotions, or rest deeply. Over time, this kind of low-level overstimulation can wear on the body and mind in quiet but significant ways.

Part of the challenge is that many of the behaviors that cause this imbalance are encouraged, especially in Summer. Long days, high stimulation, constant socializing, late nights, alcohol, and screen use can all accumulate. Individually, these may seem harmless—or even enjoyable—but taken together, they tax the Heart’s capacity to stay regulated. The body may begin to show small signs of disturbance: subtle chest tightness, dryness in the mouth, irritability in the afternoon, or shallow sleep. These are not dramatic symptoms, but they are signs that the Heart may be overheating.

There are also emotional patterns that create internal heat. Unexpressed frustration, too much excitement, or a tendency to overextend one’s emotional energy can all produce Fire. It is not just anger or grief that affects the organs; excessive joy—or rather, a kind of manic drive toward positivity—can also unbalance the Heart. In this view, even good feelings must be contained appropriately. The goal is not to suppress joy, but to cultivate a steady warmth rather than a constant blaze.

So what helps keep a heart balanced?

The first step is recognizing when the Fire is starting to tip from nourishing into agitating. If sleep is disrupted, if the mind feels cluttered, if interactions begin to feel draining instead of enlivening, these are cues to slow down. Summer encourages us to go outward, but we still need inward time. We still need coolness, rest, and rhythm.

Simple choices can make a difference. Going to bed before midnight helps protect the Heart and preserve blood. Drinking enough water—not ice-cold, but room temperature or lightly cool—supports fluid balance. Eating bitter foods like dandelion greens, lettuce, or citrus peel can help clear Heart heat. Avoiding overly spicy, greasy, or stimulating foods reduces internal Fire. And creating boundaries around stimulation—screen time, social time, even just how many things we ask of ourselves in a day—can help the shén stay anchored.

Quiet moments are especially important. The Heart thrives on stillness just as much as it enjoys movement. Taking a walk without music or podcasts, sitting outside in the evening without a phone, or even just sipping tea in silence can provide the Heart with a chance to regulate. These small acts of intentional pause create the conditions for the shén to rest, even in the fullness of summer.

It is also worth noting that for some people, the emotional expansion of Summer brings its own challenges. Not everyone feels like being social. Not everyone finds joy easily accessible. If you are someone who tends toward internal processing or who feels overstimulated by light, heat, or interaction, summer may not feel like your season. That, too, is something to honor. Joy doesn’t have to be loud or visible. In Chinese medicine, joy is about harmonious movement of the Heart qì—a sense of internal openness, even if quiet.

As with all things in this medicine, the aim is balance. Fire is not the problem. Fire is what allows us to connect, to express, to engage. It gives life to our days and color to our experience. But fire needs tending. It needs containment. Without it, the flame goes wild and consumes rather than warms. And when the Heart is consumed, it becomes difficult to rest, to relate, or to feel clear.

By paying attention to how summer—and the Heart—are showing up in our own lives, we can make gentle adjustments. We can create small buffers between ourselves and overstimulation. We can recognize the difference between joy that fills us and joy that depletes us. And we can learn to carry the warmth of Fire without letting it burn too hot.

In this way, the Heart stays steady. The shén stays housed. And the joy of Summer becomes something we can actually live with, not just chase after.