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The Tài Jí Tú (Yin Yang Symbol): History and Fallacy
Tài jí tú (yìn-yáng) symbol at Lóng Hǔ Shān Daoist monastery
Few elements of Chinese culture have captured the minds of Westerners like the Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate (tài jí tú 太極圖), aka the yìn-yáng (蔭陽) symbol. Indeed, this symbol has become a pervasive image in our own culture: appearing on everything from surfboards, to t-shirts, to bumper stickers. Acupuncturists and practitioners of Chinese medicine are particularly fond of using it on their business cards, logos, and marketing materials. What does it mean? Where did it come from? The answers are not as straightforward as some believe.
Definition of Terms
The term, tài jí, is mentioned in several ancient texts, including the Zhuāng Zǐ (庄子) and the Xì Cí Zhuàn (繫辞傳) commentary to the Yì Jīng (易经) (Robinet & Wissing, 1990). In both cases, tài jí is the state that follows Dào (道). The Hàn Shū suggests that the term “encompasses the Three in One” (Robinet & Wissing, p. 395). Looking at the black and white swirls of the tài jí tú, this definition makes sense—it encompasses yìn, yáng, and the transformations that result from their interaction. Other sources describe tài jí as: “the upper limit beyond which a process or concept can no longer be developed…the very Principle of the reversal of each thing into its opposite” (Robinet & Wissing, p. 398). Obviously, this is a complex term that—like qì—is difficult to render into English.
Allen Tsai’s Theory: The Gnomon and the 24 Solar Terms
Visual Representation of Allen Tsai’s theory
I originally encountered Allen Tsai’s theory as a master’s level student of Chinese medicine. According to his theory, the tài jí was created by recording the shadows of the gnomon (sundial) throughout the 24 solar terms of the Chinese calendar. On the surface, Tsai’s theory seems quite plausible, because several ancient texts mention the gnomon in relation to astronomical observations (Major, 2010; Field, 1999; Ho, 1985). An early reference to the gnomon can be found in the Book of Odes: “Blessed was Chief Liu. He measured the breadth and length of the land; he measured the shadow and noted the hills, observing the sunshine and shade” (Field, p. 14). According to Stephen Field, a professor at Trinity University, “Liu was measuring the shadow of the gnomon, or sundial, to determine the cardinal directions” (Field, p. 14). In addition, the Huáng Dì Nèi Jīng 黄帝内经, the foundational classic of Chinese medicine, mentions the 24 solar terms in Sù Wèn Chapter 9.
The Huái Nán Zǐ (淮南子), a text that was written during the Han dynasty, states: “When the gnomon shadow is long, yìn qì is dominant. When the gnomon shadow is short, yáng qì is dominant” (Major, p. 124). Looking at Tsai’s diagram, the meaning of this passage is clear: the gnomon shadow will gradually lengthen from the summer solstice to the winter solstice (during which time yìn qì dominates), and will gradually shorten from the winter solstice to the summer solstice (during which time yáng qì dominates). The astute observer will recognize that Tsai has modified his diagram: the shadow lines are drawn from the center of the circle toward the outside of the circle between the winter and the summer solstices, and drawn from the outside of the circle toward the center of the circle between the summer and the winter solstices. He made these modifications based on standard yìn-yáng theory, which suggests that yáng has an outwardly expanding motion, and yìn has an inwardly contracting motion (Tsai). On the surface, Tsai’s theory seems like a cogent explanation of the tài jí tú: it is based on a method of calculating the shadows of the gnomon that has been around since at least the Zhou dynasty (1046–256 BC). Why, then, did this diagram not appear anywhere in Chinese popular culture until roughly the Ming dynasty (1368–1644)?
Historical Evidence of the Tài Jí Tú
Tài jí tú with xiān tiān trigram sequence
I imagine some of you are shocked by that last revelation—I know I was when I first encountered it! Let me reiterate: the earliest historical evidence of the tài jí symbol, in the form of the black and white swirl, does not occur until roughly the 14th century (Louis, 2003). Furthermore, the earliest examples of this diagram almost always include the Pre-Heaven (xiān tiān 先天) sequence of trigrams around the outside of the circle. The eight trigrams are visual representations of the natural phenomena that exist in the world (Cheng, 2008). Each of these trigrams is composed of yìn and/or yáng lines, the combination of which suggests the qì dynamic of the natural processes they represent. Allow me to shatter another common misconception: the Post-Heaven (hòu tiān 后天) sequence of trigrams, which is traditionally attributed to King Wen, is older than the Pre-Heaven sequence of trigrams that is traditionally attributed to Fu Xi (Louis, 2003). I mention this historical fact not only to rectify a commonly-held misconception, but because it bears direct relevance to the tài jí symbol. Examine the order of the Pre-Heaven sequence around the tài jí, and you will notice that the trigrams of the four cardinal directions are directly related to the black-and-white swirl. At the top, where the diagram is most yáng, we find the trigram for Heaven (qián 乾). At the bottom, where the diagram is most yìn, we find the trigram for Earth (kūn 坤). To the left, where the diagram is equal parts yìn and yáng, we find the trigram for Fire (lí 离). Finally, to the right, where the diagram is also equal parts yìn and yáng, we find the trigram for Water (kǎn 坎). According to Zhu Xi, a Song dynasty scholar: “The position of qián and kūn is at the top and at the bottom, while kǎn and lí ascend and descend between them…this image has the form of a city wall and its rising and descending sides are like the revolving wheels on the naves of a chariot axle—one at the bottom and one at the top” (Louis, p. 165 n. 50).
What does all this mean? It means that the tài jí tú is closely related to the newer Pre-Heaven sequence of trigrams—of which there is no historical record until the 10th century, at the earliest (Louis, 2003). In fact, historical records indicate that the Pre-Heaven trigram sequence predates the tài jí tú (Louis, 2003). It also suggests that Tsai’s analysis of the origin of the diagram may be correct, but misleading: the diagram may have come about much later than the knowledge of the gnomon. Still, the trigram associations at the cardinal directions match perfectly with Tsai’s hypothesis. At the top—or South—we have the most yáng trigram (qián 乾), corresponding to the summer solstice. At the bottom—or North—we have the most yìn trigram (kūn 坤), corresponding to the winter solstice. To the left—or East—we have the trigram with one yìn line surrounded by two yáng lines (lí 离), corresponding to the vernal equinox. Finally, to the right—or West—we have a trigram with one yáng line surrounded by two yìn lines (kǎn 坎), corresponding to the autumnal equinox. As stated in the Huái Nán Zǐ (Chapter 3): “The unified essences of Heaven and Earth are yìn and yáng. The concentrated essences of yìn and yáng are the four seasons” (Schulz & Cunningham, p. 290). The tài jí tú and xiān tiān trigram sequence are a wonderful visual example of this much older statement from the Huái Nán Zǐ, but there is no historical evidence to suggest that they were known during the Han dynasty when the text was written. Similarly, though Tsai’s analysis seems to match well with this later diagram, we should resist the conclusion that the diagram is as old as the gnomon.
The Other Tài Jí Symbol
Zhou Dunyi’s version of the tài jí
Perhaps some of you are familiar with the other version of the tài jí symbol, as illustrated by Zhou Dunyi. This version of the symbol, while historically older than the more popular tài jí tú described above, still utilizes the Fire and Water trigram positions of the Pre-Heaven sequence. On the left is the trigram for Fire, and on the right is the trigram for Water. The characters to the left and right of the symbol say: “yáng, motion” and “yìn, repose” (Louis, 2003). The center of the circle represents wú jí (無極), a balanced and undifferentiated state of yìn-yáng (Wikipedia), loosely translated as “there is no extreme” (Schuessler, 2007), or “no ridgepole” (Robinet & Wissing, 1990). While this particular diagram is attributed to Zhou Dunyi, there is an older symbol that is quite similar.
This older symbol is attributed to the Buddhist scholar, Zong Mi, of the Tang dynasty, who used the symbol to denote a balanced consciousness in which “the true and the false” are blended (Louis, p. 177). Although Zong Mi was Buddhist, some scholars have suggested that the diagram itself may not be purely Buddhist in origin, due to the fact that the original colors were red and black (Robinet & Wissing, 1990). Red and black are the traditional Chinese colors for Fire and Water, respectively, suggesting cultural influences beyond Buddhism. Furthermore, since this diagram was a product of the Tang dynasty, the Daoist ideas of nèi dān (内丹) or inner alchemy, were already established (Robinet & Wissing, 1990).
Conclusion
Shield insignias of Roman soldiers (4th Century)
Obviously, despite the work of scholars to decipher the origins of the tài jí tú, the history and inception of this iconic symbol are still somewhat of a mystery. While it is still entirely possible that this symbol originated in the gnomon measurements of the ancients and was passed down secretly for centuries, there is no historical evidence to support such a claim. Based on all available evidence, the symbol has its origins during the Tang dynasty, at the earliest. Perhaps the mysterious nature of the “Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate” is only fitting for a symbol that expresses the inexpressible. We could engage in endless amounts of speculation, though the answer may never become any clearer. I will leave you with an even more puzzling thought: how did this symbol find its way onto the shields of 4th Century Roman soldiers—before it was ever recorded in China (Monastra, 2000)?
References
Chung-ying Cheng (2008). “The Yijing as Creative Inception of Chinese Philosophy”. Journal of Chinese Philosophy, vol. 35(2).
Stephen Field (1999). “The Numerology of Nine Star Fengshui”. Journal of Chinese Religions, vol. 27.
Huáng Dì Nèi Jīng 黄帝内经
Peng-Yoke Ho (1985). Li, Qi, and Shu.
Francois Louis (2003), “The Genesis of an Icon: The Taiji Diagram’s Early History”. Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, vol. 63(1).
John Major (2010). The Huainanzi.
Giovanni Monastra (2000). “The Yin-Yang Amongst the Insignia of the Roman Empire?”. Sophia, vol. 6(2). Translated by John Monastra.
Isabelle Robinet & Paula Wissing (1990). “The Place and Meaning of the Notion of Taiji in Taoist Sources Prior to the Ming Dynasty”. History of Religions, vol. 29(4).
Axel Schuessler (2007). ABC Etymological Dictionary of Old Chinese
Larry Schulz and Thomas Cunningham (1990). “The Seasonal Structure Underlying the Arrangement of Hexagrams in the Yijing”. Journal of Chinese Philosophy, vol. 17.
Allen Tsai, “Where Does the Chinese Yin Yang Symbol Come From?”
Allen Tsai, “The Secret of the Chinese Yin-Yang Tai-Chi Symbol?”
© Dr. Phil Garrison and Ancient Chinese Medical Theory, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Dr. Phil Garrison and Ancient Chinese Medical Theory with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Depression and the Death of Robin Williams: A Chinese Medicine Perspective
Robin Williams
Despite my personal fears that it is somehow gauche to add my own commentary about Robin Williams’ death to the vast dialogue that has recently taken place, I have been unable to shake the following Huáng Dì Nèi Jīng (黄帝内经) passages from my mind:
“Double yáng reverts to yīn; double yīn reverts to yáng.”
“Extreme joy damages yáng.”
“If joy causes harm, it damages the heart.”
–all from Huáng Dì Nèi Jīng Sù Wèn, Ch. 5
Do a basic search for Robin Williams, and—amidst “beloved”—you are likely to find descriptors like “high energy,” “manic,” and “genius.” Watching any of Mr. Williams’ improvisations or comedic performances, one can literally feel the energy he was capable of generating through his art. His high energy public persona, juxtaposed with his fatal private battle with depression, underscores the wisdom in the above passages.
Double yáng reverts to yīn; double yīn reverts to yáng
This passage highlights the relationship between yīn (陰) and yáng (陽)—two concepts that are foundational to both Chinese philosophy and Chinese medicine. The ancient Chinese recognized that nothing can grow indefinitely, and that life exists on a continuum between the two poles of yīn and yáng. In the Wenzi, a Daoist text that existed at the beginning of the Han dynasty, it is stated: “The way of Heaven is to revert after reaching a climax, to diminish upon reaching fullness; this is illustrated by the sun and the moon…when things reach full flourishing, then they begin to decline; when the sun reaches midsky, it starts to set; when the moon waxes full, it starts to wane; when happiness ends, one is sad” (Cleary, p. 186-187).
The inter-relationship of yīn and yáng echoes the first law of thermodynamics: matter is neither created nor destroyed, it only changes forms. As related to the Nèi Jīng passage above, a strong burst of yáng energy will ultimately transform into yīn. Elsewhere in the same chapter, we find, “yīn is tranquil, yáng is restless.” The powerful creative flourishes Mr. Williams demonstrates in his improvisations and performances are palpable examples of the explosive and restless power of yáng. These same flourishes, however, must ultimately revert to a more yīn state. I suspect this was the case for him: each brilliant creative outburst was likely followed by a period of rest and quiet (at best) or depression and suicidal thoughts (at worst).
Extreme joy damages yáng
This statement is specific to the emotion of “extreme joy.” Williams’ was beloved because he shared his own extreme joy with us. Unfortunately, such a high-energy state requires a large expenditure of yáng qì to sustain, which ultimately results in the depletion of yáng. When the yáng becomes exhausted, the yīn takes over while the yáng regenerates. As stated above, these yīn states can simply be periods of rest and repose, or they can degenerate into feelings of depression and suicide.
If joy causes harm, it damages the Heart
In Chinese medicine, a common cause of depression is Heart and Spleen deficiency (Shi, p. 159-160). According to Sù Wèn Chapter 23, the Heart houses the Spirit (神 shén), which relates to consciousness and our ability to think, feel, and respond (Wiseman, p. 550). The state of the Spirit is an important diagnostic indicator of health—it manifests in the patient’s face (particularly the eyes) and demeanor. Bright eyes, articulate speech, and vitality are positive indicators; dull eyes, incoherent speech, and blunted affect are negative indicators (Wiseman, p. 551).
The Heart is associated with the phase of Fire, the South, and the season of the Summer. Let me take a brief moment to address the Chinese medicine detractors who typically use such statements to attack our field as “mystical nonsense” or “pseudoscience”: we don’t actually think there is a literal fire in the Heart. It is a description we use to explain the nature of the heart—sort of a holographic image that describes the role of the heart in the body.
Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Teresa
In Judeo-Christian terms, the notion of a spiritual fire in the heart is a common descriptor of mystical experience. In fact, it is one of the most common descriptions of the presence of the Holy Spirit. St. Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) described her experience in these terms: “I saw in [the angel’s] hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron’s point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God” (Teresa of Avila).
The Heart as Emperor
The Heart, as described in the Huáng Dì Nèi Jīng Sù Wèn Chapter 8, is the Emperor of the body. This metaphor of the body as a kingdom with the Heart as the Emperor underscores the importance of the Heart in Chinese medical physiology and psychology. According to the same chapter, “When the Emperor is peaceful, the subjects (other organs and biological processes) are orderly…when the Emperor is not peaceful, the subjects (other organs and biological processes) are harmed.” Thus, great care should be taken to keep the Heart peaceful, because when it becomes agitated, chaos ensues on a systemic level.
When the Heart is harmed, there is likely concurrent damage to the blood and the Spirit. The state of the blood in Chinese medicine is closely linked to the peacefulness of the Spirit—to cite but one example, a potential cause of insomnia (from a Chinese medicine point of view) is blood heat and/or blood vacuity. In the case of blood heat, a person cannot sleep because the heat disturbs the Spirit, while in the case of blood vacuity, a person cannot sleep because the Spirit lacks proper nourishment from the blood.
The Role of the Spleen (脾 pí) in Depression
Going back to Sù Wèn Chapter 5: “The Heart generates the blood, the blood generates the Spleen.” This relates to a complex Five Phase (wǔ-xíng 五行) association that I don’t have time to explain here. What I will say is that, just as the Heart is associated with Summer, the Spleen is associated with the transitional period between the Seasons (Nèi Jīng Sù Wèn Chapter 29). I find this association particularly interesting with regard to the subject of depression: it is as though one gets stuck in a particular “emotional season,” and lacks the ability to assimilate and transform that emotion.
When the Spleen is deficient—from a Chinese medicine point of view—a common result is the generation of phlegm, which manifests in certain patterns of depression. Again, let me take a moment to address the TCM-haters and internet trolls out there—we do not believe that the Spleen literally produces phlegm, the “Spleen” (脾 pí) in Chinese medicine is a holographic metaphor for a particular process in the body. We also don’t think that depression can be cured by simply blowing one’s nose or hacking up more phlegm! In fact, even the term phlegm is a bit of a misnomer in this context: it is more a descriptor of the kind of blunted affect or clouded thinking that typically results from depression.
Etymology of the Character Diān (癲)
The character for depression is diān (癲), which is particularly interesting when broken down into its components. On the left side of the character is the radical nì (疒), meaning “disease” or “sickness.” The other component of the character is diān (顛), meaning “summit” or “top of the head.” My reading of this character—which I preface with the caveat that I am not a Chinese linguist—is “disease of the top of the head.” My Chinese language teacher and colleague, Dr. Sonya Pritzker, cautioned against extrapolating on the characters without a linguistic background, so I freely admit that I may be incorrect in my interpretation of the character, and that my reading of it is likely influenced by my own cultural perspective. I am intrigued and encouraged by the etymology, however, which suggests that the phonetic component of the character, diān (顛), is part of the same word family as tiān (天), which means “Heaven” or “sky” (Schuessler, p. 211). With this in mind, it suggests that depression may be symbolically understood as a disease of the top of the head which results in losing our heavenly connection. In fact, the acupuncture point at the top of the head, Hundred Meetings (bǎi huì 百會), is alternatively called Mountain of Heaven (tiān shān 天山), and it is through this point that one can access the heavenly yáng energies (Deadman, p. 552-553)!
If my interpretation does have validity, it is truly humbling to recognize the depth to which the ancient Chinese understood depression, as encoded in this one character. It seems to suggest the same isolation and lack of connectedness that plague so many individuals who live with depression, including Leo Tolstoy, who said: “I say that the search for God was not reasoning, but a feeling, because that search proceeded not from the course of my thoughts – it was even directly contrary to them – but proceeded from the heart. It was a feeling of fear, orphanage, isolation in a strange land, and a hope of help from someone” (Tolstoy).
Closing Thoughts
With all this in mind, I can only imagine the struggle Robin Williams faced. To the public, he was an explosion of yáng, but in private, I imagine he spent much of his time in a yīn state. One positive thing to come out of his tragic death has been a renewed dialogue and public acceptance of depression. I offer this Chinese medicine perspective to my colleagues and former students, in the hope that it will inspire you to better serve depressed patients and all patients suffering from mental illness. If you or someone you know is suffering from depression, please seek help: Chinese medicine is a wonderful potential adjunct therapy to counseling and/or psychiatric treatment.
References
Huáng Dì Nèi Jīng 黄帝内经
Thomas Cleary, The Taoist Classics: Vol. 1
Anshen Shi, Internal Medicine
Axel Schuessler, ABC Etymological Dictionary of Old Chinese
Peter Deadman & Mazin Al-Khafaji (with Kevin Baker), A Manual of Acupuncture
Leo Tolstoy, A Confession
Nigel Wiseman and Feng Ye, A Practical Dictionary of Chinese Medicine
© Dr. Phil Garrison and Ancient Chinese Medical Theory, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Dr. Phil Garrison and Ancient Chinese Medical Theory with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Yin-Yang in the Nei Jing Su Wen (Chapter 5)
The following passage is found at the the beginning of the Huangdi Nei Jing Su Wen (Chapter 5):
The Yellow Emperor said, “Yinyang is the dao of Heaven and Earth, the fundamental principle of everything, the progenitor of myriad variation, the root of life and death, and the palace of spirit brightness.”
This translation by Yanzhong Zhu and Philip Garrison is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Tai Ji (yin-yang) symbol at Long Hu Shan Daoist monastery
This elegantly simple passage contains a wealth of information relevant to chinese medical theory and practice. Everything in the world, from the most complex to the most simple, can be expressed in terms of yin and yang. Of course, yin and yang are not static, they are always in motion, as indicated by the taiji symbol. In the simplest terms, yin and yang are polar opposites of a spectrum. Life is the product of this dipole movement and interaction. When yin and yang separate, life ceases to exist.
Yin and yang are also representative of force vectors. Yang represents an outward and upward force, while yin represents an inward and downward force. Yang expands and yin contracts.
Based on his observations of nature, Viktor Schauberger, the Austrian naturalist, developed terminology to explain toroidal motion that could also be applied to yin and yang. In axial -> radial motion, the toroidal force moves away from the center (yang), and in radial -> axial motion, the toroidal force moves toward the center (yin) (Coats, 59).
Of course, China’s early natural philosophers were also in tune with nature, and thus yin and yang apply to all sorts of natural phenomena. The sun is considered yang, while the moon is considered yin. Daytime is yang, and nighttime is yin. Spring and summer are yang, fall and winter are yin. Male is yang, and female is yin. Thus, it is through these interactions that life exists. Without the interaction of male and female, there would be no life. Similarly, without the passage of the seasons, and the alternation of the sun and moon, planting and harvest seasons would be unclear.
Of course, one could go on-and-on relating the associations of yin and yang and their applicability to both life and medicine. As one ponders the universal applicability of this theory, its elegant simplicity begins to unfold.
References:
Huáng Dì Nèi Jīng 黄帝内经
Callum Coats, Living Energies
© Dr. Phil Garrison and Ancient Chinese Medical Theory, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Dr. Phil Garrison and Ancient Chinese Medical Theory with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Ancient Chinese Medical Theory 