The Five Elements & Your Emotions

As I mentioned in my previous post, all planes of existence can be framed in terms of the Five Elements—including the emotional sphere. Indeed, each of these five gestures accords with a particular shade of our emotional palette. This includes a primary emotion that manifests in times of stress, as well as a range of “emotional distortions” which arise when that primary emotion is not allowed to properly discharge. Let’s move through the cycle of the phases, just like we did in the previous post, this time viewing them through the lens of their emotional resonances.

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Remember the theme of the Wood phase? It’s all about springtime energy—growth, vision, and direction. It’s about strategizing and initiating that strategy so that the seed of Water can begin to grow, giving us hope for the future. Wood is responsible for our smooth navigation of the world, moving flexibly around obstacles to realize our dreams. Wood expresses itself in the form of assertiveness and righteousness.

Any hindrance to the Wood process—any impediment to growth—can result in feelings of anger. Anger is therefore the primary emotion of the Wood phase. We become frustrated at a roadblock and erupt: “Get out of my way!” If anger is recognized and appropriately channeled, it can be constructive. But if anger is misused—if it is either repressed or indulged—it becomes distorted, and the person suffers. Depending on the individual, this distortion can manifest in states of irritability, aggressiveness, hostility, rage, resentment, guilt, sarcasm, self-deprecation, depression, or timidity.

Wood gives way to Fire, which expresses itself as joy and connection, creativity and passion, a warmth of spirit that opens the heart and brightens the eyes. This is an expansive, buoyant state—remember, Fire’s season is the summertime. Summer is a time of celebration and interaction (think of cookouts and festivals and fireworks); likewise, Fire is very much about our joyous connection to others and the world around us, as well as to our own hearts.

Fire’s emotional response to stress is excitement—the body and mind become hyper-active. Distortions of excitement can feature a flaring of heat and activity: restlessness, anxiety, insomnia, mania, sexual impropriety. Think of a fire getting out of control. On the other end of the spectrum, there are those who have difficulty accessing any excitement—this also reflects an imbalance in the Fire phase. In this case, the inner flame is exhausted, resulting in states of sadness, despair, depression, anhedonia, and coldness.

We experience the Earth phase in the form of empathy, nourishment, and integration. Attunement with others and our environment helps us bond, helps us establish feelings of stability and fulfillment. Through the Earth phase, we digest and assimilate our experiences; we harvest the fruits of our daily lives (reflecting this phase’s correspondence with late summer) and integrate them into our body, mind, and spirit.

In periods of stress, the Earth phase manifests as concern—we focus on a problem, on some disturbance in how things are unfolding, so as to re-establish harmony. When concern becomes pathological, we might find ourselves constantly trying to please others, worrying over what others think, being clingy, needy, obsessive. We might feel perpetually under-nourished and disconnected—weak, alienated, isolated. And we might seek to satiate our cravings through compulsive or addictive behaviors, whether with food or sex, drugs or entertainment. These are all themes of an imbalanced Earth phase.

Metal expresses itself in feelings of openness, flexibility, and vulnerability. Such states are available when we have “interiorized” life’s precious parts, its jewels. In other words, when we’re inwardly-resourced (when the sap has been drawn from the exterior into the core of the tree), we can more easily let go of our “old leaves” and cultivate new relationships and experiences. We can be curious about and inspired by the world around us. We can see the greater perfection amid all the lesser imperfections.

The Metal response to stress is grief—a feeling of sorrow at the loss of someone or something cherished. When this emotion is repressed or indulged, distortions around “letting go” crop up. We might keep everything stuffed inside, cutting ourselves off from others (stoicism, defensive pride, selfishness, envy, jealousy). Or, on the other hand, we might feel chronically overwhelmed, hurt, or wronged by the changing world around us (hypersensitivity, self-pity, sadness, despondence, feebleness). We might need everything to be just-so (perfectionism, rigidity), instead of flexibly allowing the flow of life to unfold.

And finally, Water is rooted in resolve and resilience. This phase gives us the courage to “be”—to emerge as a distinct droplet out of the great ocean of existence—and to thrive. Like the winter landscape where Yang has contracted inwardly, we can be outwardly still and serene, and yet inwardly enlivened by our deep reservoir of wisdom and power. Water represents our will to survive in the world. Spiritually, it governs our capacity to deeply listen for our “heavenly mandate” and to walk our path to the divine.

Water’s response to stress is fear. Fear alerts us to danger, so that we can respond with our various survival strategies. When we’re scared, the Water phase provides the raw power that Wood unleashes through the fight-or-flight response. Fear becomes distorted when we lose contact with—and therefore trust in—our core strength, our foundation, leading to chronic states of fearfulness, panic, mistrust, and paranoia. We might experience phobias, avoidance behaviors, and inferiority or superiority complexes. On the other hand, we might lose our capacity for discerning danger, leading to risky behaviors.

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I want to be clear that, from the perspective of Five-Phase Theory, emotions are not the problem. Anger, excitement, concern, grief, and fear (the five main emotions of each of the Five Phases) are exquisite responses we’ve evolved to navigate stressful scenarios. They’re like inner weather events; if we’re resourced enough to handle these temporary storms, all will be fine.

However, issues arise when these emotions are not allowed to safely express and transform—they stay stuck in a warped state. When this occurs, our inner landscape might be perpetually bombarded by the chaotic winds of rage (Wood); engulfed in flames of restlessness (Fire); stuck in the mud with worry (Earth); dried up in a barren desert of sadness (Metal); or inundated by a flood of fear (Water). As humans, always adaptable, we learn to live with these emotional distortions, to accommodate them by contorting our bodies and minds and making ourselves sick.  

So, what is needed to free us?

It starts with feeling. Actually feeling our emotional distortions in a way that’s not overwhelming is crucial.

Often, we’re numb to the uncomfortable aspects of our emotional landscape. Maybe the neck is tensed with resentment, or the chest is locked in a cage of despondence, or the belly is tied up in knots over what others think of us. As the saying goes, “what we resist persists,” and, much of the time, we’re resisting feeling without even noticing that we’re resisting. But feeling is a way to transform our emotional distortions.

Making contact with our experience in the context of a safe space and at a pace that’s supportive allows for understanding to unfold. With understanding comes empowerment: we now have the opportunity to make choices that are actually in our best interests.

We can choose to slow down and feel, for instance, that we’re tensing our neck with resentment. Holding this experience in tender awareness gives the emotional distortion a chance to unwind. As we question into this experience, we might realize that the story behind this resentment has no basis in reality, or we might realize that the resentment is hurting us more than the other person. These types of realization help us to expand our perspective and soften our fixation. As we do this, the anger lodged in our neck has the opportunity to transform; it might even give way to feelings of benevolence, which is the virtue of Wood.

This way of relating to our emotions creates a sense of spaciousness—it opens up our experience, giving us a chance to evolve in a way that serves our well-being.

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As a practitioner who works with many folks sailing choppy emotional waters, I make a point of providing a safe space where folks can feel comfortable turning their attention toward their inner “weather patterns.” I see my role as (a) discerning where the Five-Phase cycle is out of balance in your system, and (b) providing prompts to promote harmony among the phases.

Curious about a session with me? You can check out my services here and book a session by contacting me here.

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Interested in more on the topic? Check out Gail Reichenstein’s Wood Becomes Water; Iona Teaguarden’s The Joy of Feeling; Alene Duncan’s The Tao of Trauma; Leon Hammer’s Dragon Rises, Red Bird Flies; Lonny Jarrett’s Nourishing Destiny; and Claude Larre & Elisabeth Rochat de la Vallée’s Rooted in Spirit.