Defining Qi

“Qi,” when it’s translated at all, is often rendered as “energy.” If “energy” seems a bit vague and unhelpful, well, it is! “Qi” is a general term, and its meaning depends on the context you’re using it in.

But before we get into those contexts, let’s look at the early Chinese character for Qi, which featured three wavy lines. These lines represented steam, vapor, or clouds—that which is constantly moving and morphing, intangible and transparent, at the edge of our awareness.

And how does steam arise? Well, steam is created through the combination of polar opposites—fire and water, heat and cold. This is how Qi is born: It is the product of the interpenetration of Yin and Yang. It is the nebulous “vapor” that spirals through existence.

In later times, the image of a grain of rice (米) was added to the Qi character: 氣. This new pictograph represents steam rising from cooked food, evoking the way Qi flows (like steam) in and around matter. Furthermore, the image of cooked rice, the foundation of the Chinese diet for millennia, symbolizes the way Qi “nourishes and sustains” us.

And yet another way to interpret the character is to see it as an equation:

Food (米) + Air (气) = Qi (氣).

Indeed, eating and breathing are the most obvious methods of supplementing our Qi.

In modern Chinese, this character 氣 is typically used to mean “breath,” “gas” (like oxygen), “weather” (like a windy day), or even “emotions” (like anger), depending on context. Again, these concepts evoke the movements that are at work in and around us. Breath, gases, weather, and emotions (our “inner weather”) are all mutable influences that we are constantly interacting with. They are coursing, changing, often under the surface, behind the scenes. They are the flowing forces that shape our reality.

Traditional cultures—from the Navaho to the Sioux, from Muslim to Hebrew, from ancient Greece to Africa’s Kalihari Desert, from Polynesia to India—shared the concept of the “breath of life.” No matter what they called it—nilch’i or ni, nafas or ruach, pneuma or num, ha or prana—they were attempting to acknowledge and understand the mysterious energy that pervades and propels existence. So it is with Qi.

***

In the context of the “great unfolding” of existence, from a Daoist perspective, Qi can be understood as the life force, the “breath” of the Dao. It’s the product of the relationship between primordial Yin and Yang. This form of Qi—called Chong Qi, “swirling Qi”—is what arises when the potential inherent in Yin is activated by Yang’s power; it’s an organized wave of vital energy that emerges out of the intercourse of those two polar forces. Qi serves as the mediator between the purely spiritual and the purely material realms, linking Heaven and Earth, the divine and the mundane.

Some equate Qi with “dark matter” or “dark energy”—the mysterious phenomena surrounding and permeating galaxies, holding everything together like invisible connective tissue. The space around us is not empty; it’s alive and it entwines us. As Jerry Alan Johnson says, “All things in nature and, in fact, all things in the universe are woven together so that we are, quite literally, all symbiotically one with the universe through the system of Qi” (Chinese Medical Qigong Therapy, 3).

In a similar vein, Leon Hammer writes:

The Chinese ancients believed that the way of life is based on qi; everything in the universe relies on it. When the qi is outside heaven and earth, it embraces them. When the qi is inside heaven and earth, it circulates through and sustains them. Stars depend on it for their brightness. Weather is formed by it. The seasons are caused by it. Man cannot stand outside of qi. It supports him and permeates him. It is the unifying synthesizing concept, which emphasizes the single tie that binds us, rather than the less significant issues that tend to divide and scatter us. (Dragon Rises, Red Bird Flies, 34.)

Indeed, we humans are “bound” by Qi. It connects us to everything.

And this general, “big-picture” definition of Qi as “the life force” not only applies to the world “out there” but also to the world “in here”—it refers to the capacity of our inner parts to work together as a whole, creating a functional, integrated being. Daniel Keown refers to Qi as “the energy of communication and of intelligent cooperation” (The Spark in the Machine, 31). Qi organizes our metabolism; without it, we’d be a bunch of cells working for their own benefit. As Keown writes, “Metabolism is dumb; Qi is intelligent” (26). Qi orchestrates the symphony that is us.

***

So, that’s the broad, non-specific use of the term “Qi.” But we can also apply the term in very specific ways.

In the context of Chinese Medicine, we can boil the term “Qi” down to two primary definitions: (1) the “function” of a given body part (“Heart Qi,” for instance, refers to the function of the Heart organ); and (2) the entity that flows through the body’s channel system.

Let’s start by looking at the first definition of Qi, meaning “function.” All your parts are functioning—they have their own particular activity, their own Qi. When we refer to your Kidney Qi or your Stomach Qi, for instance, we’re simply talking about the “activity” of those organs.

Now, with illness, the activity of our parts can get out of whack. The activity becomes either deficient (the body part is under-performing) or excessive (the body part is over-performing).

If the function (Qi) of an organ becomes deficient, we might experience fatigue and weakness, among many other symptoms that are particular to that organ, such as “shortness of breath” in the case of Lung Qi Deficiency.

Excess Qi, on the other hands, can manifest with pain and agitation—that part is too “revved up”! In the case of Excess Liver Qi, for example, the over-activity of the Liver can lead to a rising energy manifesting in headaches and emotional volatility.

So, that’s the first definition of Qi in Chinese Medicine: “function.” When that function is unfolding smoothly, that particular part of us is healthy; when it’s not (when it’s weak, as in the case of Lung Qi Deficiency, or over-abundant, as in Excess Liver Qi), that particular part is out of balance. Pretty straight-forward, right?

The second definition of Qi is referring to a specific form of vitality flowing through our “channels.” This flow constitutes our “energy body”; it’s a direct extension of our consciousness. In fact, Damo Mitchell refers to this type of Qi as “conscious information.”

We are filled with a complex network of Qi channels, also known as “heavenly streams” and “the hall of lights.” As Mitchell writes, “The channel system…is the way in which the spirit reaches through the body like so many tendrils to animate us and bring us life” (A Comprehensive Guide to Daoist Nei Gong, 36).

The Qi of the channels flows in relatively predictable ways in the body. There’s an order to it. The channels are like rivers and streams, with swirling whirlpools of Qi serving as our acupuncture points. These point are information hubs, organized (or, in disease, disorganized) power centers where acupuncturists can help invite healthy flow. When the channels become weak or blocked, acupuncture can help to restore order.

This “energy body” made up of the Qi channels is more subtle than the tangible body, but it’s still very perceptible. It just requires some practice. This is where Qigong comes in.

Qigong (literally “working with the Qi”) helps us to connect with and influence our Qi and, in the process, make our bodies and minds work more efficiently. Wanna learn more? Qigong is the subject of the next post—click here to read on!