Travis Kern 4/18/25 Travis Kern 4/18/25

The Cosmic Cycle: Yin and Yang

In a palace shaped by seasons, Yang rises from a spark to a blazing emperor before fading into shadow. Yin, steady and wise, expands through stillness and reflection. This tale of cosmic succession weaves through joy, unraveling, and return—an eternal dance of power, presence, and the rhythm of time.

Years ago I listened to a recorded lecture from one of my favorite Chinese cosmological teachers, Liu Ming, where he off-handedly talked about Yang as an emperor of China. That is, he had crafted a neat metaphor for the movement of qi through the lens of Chinese imperial intrigue. He never fully told the story, but you’d get little snippets here and there that gave me a little taste for this remarkably vivid tale of cosmic enfolding. So, I decided to finally write it out. Below is a storybook telling of the endless cycle of Yin and Yang. Thanks for the inspiration Ming, you are deeply missed.

A Tale of Yin and Yang Through the Seasons

At the waning edge of winter, atop frozen soil and beside deep snow drifts, the palace lies quiet. In its dim corridors, Empress Yin rules—not with force, but with gravity. She is composed, ageless, elegant. She wears robes the color of smoke and old bone, and she walks with the authority of someone who has seen many cycles. The court respects her deeply, though few understand the depth of her wisdom. She watches the land with calm eyes, aware that her time is nearing its turn.

Beneath her care, a subtle fire barely glows in the brazier of Heaven's hearth. From a glowing ember, a child is born. He is small, restless, always moving. This is Yang, a prince of heaven, but still just a seed of what he will become. She wraps him in thick robes, feeds him warm broths, keeps him close. She sees in him not just potential, but inevitability. The future will be his. But not yet.

As the calendar turns toward spring (Lìchūn 立春 ), the air still holds winter's bite. Yang, the young prince, plays carefully in cold courtyards, his laughter muffled by woolen layers. He presses his hands to the frost-covered windows, watches birds stir in bare branches, and kicks up dry leaves still left from autumn. His breath fogs the air. He is not ready to bloom, but he is watching—waiting, learning the rhythm of the light.

Empress Yin keeps him close to the hearth. She feeds him rich congee, wraps his small hands in silk, and murmurs old stories about the seasons to come. She is still in full command, her court steady and dignified, her presence the axis upon which the world turns.

As the days grow longer, the garden soil begins to warm. Buds swell, and small green shoots push through cracks in stone paths (Jīngzhé 惊蛰). Yang grows stronger, his voice louder. He sheds his layers more eagerly now, dashing barefoot in moments, though still called back to warmth when the wind rises. His laughter returns to the courtyards with a new brightness, his curiosity sharpening as he questions the guards, the gardeners, and the scholars who pass through the halls.

By the time of Spring Equinox (Chūnfēn 春分), Yang stands taller. His movements are confident, his energy infectious. He begins to take small roles in court life, bringing light and warmth with him. The empire stirs under his presence. Though Yin still governs, her posture has softened and her courtiers begin to include the young Yang in their discussions. She watches his rise not with worry, but with knowing.

Empress Yin Stokes The Ember of Yang

Yang Plays Under Yin's Watch

Growing Yang Inspires Spring

As the weather reflects a real warmth the people associate with Spring (Gǔyǔ 谷雨), Yang is now a young man. The trees explode with flowers, anticipating the fruit that will grow and spring crops push through soil with excitement. Yang begins to speak in council, not just to learn but to lead. His clarity, his vision, his energy inspire the court, and people feel more alive around him. Empress Yin has grown more grandmotherly—her presence softer now, more distant. She no longer walks far from her chambers, but her gaze remains sharp. She watches as her grandson comes into his power and smiles softly to herself.

As Summer begins (Lìxià 立夏), Yang is crowned Emperor, and he sits upon the throne of Heaven. He is golden and tall -- his robes shimmering like sunlight on water. Under his rule, the empire blooms and fields overflow; rivers rush. Trade, laughter, and labor all dance in the heat of his glory. He builds bridges, leads hunts, reforms old laws. Artists and philosophers flourish under his protection. Festivals stretch into the night, and the common people sing his praises in poems and songs. He is not only powerful, but admired—a symbol of vitality, purpose, and light.

Empress Yin no longer appears in court. Her strength has waned. In her final days, she watches the gardens from her window, her hands folded, her face serene. Just before solstice, she slips away without fanfare, returning to the Earth she once ruled.

At the peak of Summer (Xiàzhì 夏至), Yang reaches his zenith. His courtiers sing his praises in endless scrolls. The empire is dazzling. The land pulses with vitality. Yang stands at the center of it all—radiant, resplendent, unstoppable.

But something in him has begun to flicker. At night, he dreams of cold winds and quiet halls, waking with unease. He notices new lines at his temples and a tremor in his fingers after speeches. He begins to wonder—who will come next? Will they honor what he has built, or sweep it away?

Yang Matures And Begins To Lead

Yang Inspires The Kingdom To Action

Emperor Yang Presides Over Abundance

He feels his hold on power growing soft, so he tightens his grip. He grows wary of succession. Questions in council grow sharp, and he rewrites old laws, not for justice, but preservation. His greatness has not vanished—but now it guards rather than gives.

Yang's smoldering paranoia begins to burn too hot (Dàshǔ 大暑 ). The more he clings, the more the fire turns inward. Ministers walk in fear. The once-lively court grows hushed. Where once he inspired, he now watches shadows on the walls, convinced they conspire against him.

What he built now feels fragile, something easily taken by a greedy successor, and the weight of preserving what he has made presses heavily on his shoulders. His sons whisper in the corridors—he hears their voices, never their words. His meals are tasted three times. His sleep is broken by dreams of smoke - the scrolls detailing his mighty deeds burning to ash.

He lashes out, throwing goblets and shouting in anger. He storms through halls in the dead of night. The land dries, fires spark, storms become violent. Crops wither. Even the sky grows weary of his rage.

He begins to consider darker things -- rewrites to the rules of ascension; purges of his heirs and theirs. His legacy looms large—but he can no longer see where it ends and he begins.

In a quiet corridor of the palace, a child coalesces from the darkness and a mild evening breeze. She is barely more than a whisper—Yin reborn. Not the old Empress, but her descendant. She wears no crown. She carries no sword. But her presence cools the air.

When she takes the Emperor's hand, something stirs deep within him—an echo of a memory, soft and piercing. He sees the old Empress Yin, his grandmother, as she once was: her steady gaze, her warm bowls of broth, her hands wrapping his in silk. He remembers the way she ruled—not through command, but through presence.

The child does not speak. She does not need to. Her silence contains the weight of lineage, the rhythm of seasons, the calm inevitability of change.

Yang looks into her eyes and realizes that the changes he has been fighting are not a threat, but are part of an infinite continuity. The shifting focus is not erasure, but remembrance. His fire, long untamed, begins to settle. The roar within him quiets to his own steady heartbeat. The raging heat in his chest gives way to a soft, aching warmth.

He weeps—not in despair, but in relief.

And he begins to fade.

Emperor Yang Will Not Accept His Decline

Child Yin Reminds Yang Of His Purpose

The season turns and Autumn begins (Lìqiū 立秋). The whole empire’s posture changes, becoming softer as its leader shifts. Yang no longer commands attention, but walks with quiet dignity. He has rescinded his violent orders and made space for child Yin's training and encouragement. He watches her growing stronger. Yin asks questions. She studies the stars and the scrolls. Her mind is sharp. Her movements graceful. The court begins to notice her—not as a novelty, but as a presence.

For some people in the court, Yang's decline feels like a loss. They miss his vibrancy, his potency. But Yang reminds them that this is not a time of mourning, but of transition. As Yang fades, Yin blossoms. Her elegance deepens. Her voice is low, steady. She is a student of history and a keeper of lineage. She walks with her grandmother’s memories in her blood.

This is not the end of Yang. It is the maturation of Yin.

Yin ascends to the throne as Winter begins (Lìdōng 立冬). There is no parade of trumpets, no grand decree—only the silent, seamless knowing of the court. She does not seize power. She inhabits it. Her posture carries the gravity of the ancestors. Her crown is delicately woven silver studded with opals and saphires. Her presence is cool and luminous, a lantern in a long corridor.

Under her rule, the palace deepens (Xiǎoxuě 小雪). The music grows slower, more intricate, more complex. Dignitaries speak in lower tones. Rich foods—root vegetable stews, glutinous rice, spiced broths—are served with quiet reverence. She recalls the lineage of rulers past, weaving their memory into her counsel.

Yang, now fully faded, lingers only in warmth—by the hearth, in dreams, in the firelight of her gaze.

Young Yin Grows in Wisdom While Yang Encourages Her

Yin Is Crowned Empress And Mother Of All Creation

In the deepening dark of Winter (Dōngzhì 冬至) the palace glows with lantern light. The air is cold, but the halls are full. Empress Yin presides over a court rich in song and ceremony. Musicians play ancient melodies. The scent of braised meats and warm grains fills the air. Elders share stories beside braziers. Children recite poems beneath embroidered banners. Time slows.

There is no shouting, no striving—only a deep, reflective stillness. A quiet majesty. Her reign is one of nourishment, memory, and depth. She gathers the past into the present like a cloak and wears it lightly, beautifully.

Yet even after Solstice, Yin's power expands. The days remain short, the wind sharper (Dàhán 大寒). Snow thickens on the stone steps of the palace, and frost etches the windows with delicate, unspoken truths. Her court grows even quieter, not with absence but with reminiscence.

Yin moves through the chambers like a dream remembered. Her presence invites silence, reflection, restoration. It is a time of keeping close, of drawing inward, of sitting with what is real. The foods are darker now—black sesame, fermented beans, strong teas. The songs echo farther in the cold, their notes clinging to the walls like stories.

She does not seek stimulation, only stillness. She does not resist the coming end. In this, she is different from Yang. She will not fight the fading of her influence, because she knows it is not an ending. It is a return.

And in the quietest room of the palace, she watches the hearth. And at its center, a single ember stirs again.

The cycle begins anew

Empress Yin Encourages Restoration

Empress Yin Presides Over Reminiscence

Empress Yin Watches Yangs Ember

The Whole Story

Travis Kern 9/7/22 Travis Kern 9/7/22

Qi Node 15: 白露 Báilù (White Dew)

An insight into how Yin is beginning the take charge of the season and heralding the powerful return of Winter Yin Qi

Yin Descends to Take Charge

Yang has continued to collapse as part of its regular cycle and is no longer violent and pernicious. The dew begins to appear in the early morning as a whisper of the coming cooler season and its eventual snow. Days tend to still be warm but evenings are increasingly cool as Yang ebbs, and Yin begins to coalesce and strengthen. These cool early mornings are a time for clarifying the edits demanded of the fall season and to appreciate a kind of graspable stillness only available during nodes of nascent Yin qi.

At this point in the year, Yin is like a young girl taking her grandfather Yang by the hand and showing him around his house. He may not remember where he left the paper or the remote or that he needs to cook lunch for himself, but she is his helper. He may not be as invigorated as he was in years past, but she reminds him of his youth and her presence forces him to remember things he thought were lost to time. She, meanwhile, listens to his stories and encourages his reminiscence because there is wisdom she can absorb and integrate into herself as she grows and takes a larger and larger role in daily life.

Activity Moves More Indoors

Outdoor exercise should be minimized and activities that induce a lot of sweating should be edited down. Preserving your body’s fluids during this time of the year is essential, as the fall season is dominated by dryness and a cooling wind that can exacerbate yin deficiencies if we aren’t mindful of our activity. Eating in the evening should grow increasingly light, with meals becoming more vegetable and broth based to supply essential moisture during the dry time. Avoiding eating after 7pm is increasingly advised to avoid overtaxing the waning yang qi who is weakest in the evening phase of the day.

Classical Prescriptions

Enjoy foods from this time of the year. Squashes and final tomatoes. Corn and wheat being harvested. Potatoes before they are prepared for storage. Fill your diet with moist foods and focus your eating to the daylight hours.

If you carry latent heat conditions, especially damp-heat conditions, start your morning with a barefoot walk in the dew. Dress warmly and then go out and take a five minute stroll through the wet grass. Feel the wet and cool entering your body. Then return inside and dry your feet, rub them to get warm, and immediately put on socks.

Continue the cognitive editing you began with the first moon in autumn and begin to organize it into your “intellectual harvest” of habits and activities that will serve you well in the internal and reserved season to come.

Travis Kern 9/19/18 Travis Kern 9/19/18

Falling Leaves and Changing Winds

Travis Kern, L.Ac.

The transition from Summer to Fall is a marked one in most parts of the US. Not only do the days start to shorten and the temperatures get cooler but many people start to get excited about the coming holiday seasons. Whether spending time with family or loved ones, going on trips, playing out meaningful traditions, or just getting a few minutes of pensive reflection, the fall season reminds us all of the continuous change intrinsic to all of our environments.

Historically and still in many parts of the world, Fall is the time of harvesting and fruition; of storing away the potent Yang that has dominated these last several months so that in the coming months ruled by the dark and cold Yin, we have enough motive force to sustain our lives and activities. This process is easiest to see in the picking, processing, and canning of late summer fruits and vegetables. If you’ve ever grown tomatoes or green beans, you know that those four plants you started in May are now overfilled with ripe fruit, more than you could ever eat, and it’s time to pack their nutrients away to help satisfy your appetites come Winter.

But it is not only in food and eating that the Fall season can be experienced. Indeed, our activity and movement during this time of year also changes. Many of us know the feeling of wanting to curl up on the couch with a warm drink and watch our favourite films or read a great book. Humans start to feel slower and disinclined to make intense physical efforts. This tendency is our natural movement toward the hibernation of the eventual winter season when we need to conserve our energy and our effort because making big things happen during the cold of the coming Winter can be difficult and almost always depleting.

Fall is also the Chinese Medicine season of dryness and even though in many parts of the country fall brings increased rain, the air begins to chap our faces and lips and the ground starts to crack as the chill begins, reflecting the systemic dryness of the season. Foods that are moistening and supportive of the lung from a Chinese Medicine point of view are a must during this time of year.

The Interaction of Yin and Yang

The classic Taiji symbol has been common in American consciousness since the early 90s at least. That swirl of white and black doesn’t usually draw profound contemplation from Western people but it is indeed a powerfully simple image of a very complex idea. It would be easy to imagine that Yin and Yang have moral qualities because of our Western dualistic mindset (for more on that check out this blog post). Yet, the dark and cold qualities of Yin are not bad things just as the movement and activity of Yang are not good things. They have no moral dimension and they are both absolutely required in order for life to move forward and flourish.

What is movement with no substance or earth with no animation? The interaction of Yin and Yang form the essential elements of all things both living and not. They are descriptors of things and of changes between states of being. They can be used as all the parts of speech and each aspect gives us more insight into the complexity of existence. Profound indeed.

But it’s hot where I live. Like, all the time. In every season…

When we talk about the changes in season, the theories we expound on here are rooted in the the patterns and times of Earth’s Northern Hemisphere and a latitude roughly equivalent to central France. If you lived in Australia or Brasil, your seasons would happen in different months but they would still happen. And though most of us think of the change in season as a change in the temperature of the air, the ancient Chinese considered many more factors than the sensation of hot or cold in the air. Spring is the time when new plants sprout and grow powerfully. Summer provides the necessary sunlight to grow the bulk of our food. Fall is the time of harvest and storage. Winter is the season of conservation and contemplation. Regardless of the exact temperature of your particular locale, these qualities present themselves in every place, every year. OF course we have all experienced a warmer Christmas or a really wet autumn, but these weather based assessments are only one aspect of the season. Tapping into how you feel in your body, of what your experience is during any given month in the year is the best way to begin to sense the environmental and cosmic changes that are happening all the time.

This Moon and the Coming Qi Node

Knowing how cosmic changes affect us on our little blue planet is no small feat. I use calendar notes and updates to keep me in the loop and even then I planted my tomatoes two days after a full moon (those in the know are aghast and those that aren't, let's just say you're not supposed to plant things after a full moon). Knowing your seasons can continue to live in the broad strokes but if you are interested, the rabbit hole can go as deep as you like.

2nd Moon of Autumn

September 9th was the second moon in the fall seasonal cycle. The first moon is when the season’s movement begins and by the 2nd moon, humans start to feel the qualities we associate with the season. By the 3rd moon, the season feels in full swing.

Qi Node: Autumnal Equinox (Qiu Fen)

*September 22nd marks the even divide between daytime and nighttime where the cooler days and falling leaves mark the tangible presence of Autumn*

Things to Eat:

Pears and Apples
Winter Squash like Butternut and Pumpkin
Last of the veges from the garden
Sweet potatoes, carrots, and parsnips
Medium aged cheese like Brie and Roblochon
The best cuts of beef

Things to Do:

Eat lighter meals, maybe skip a dinner
Switch to darker brews of all your drinks
Start collecting your cool weather gear
Keep your neck covered when outside
Bake some pumpkin bread
Take a canning class in your area

Things to Cook:

STUFFED SQUASH WITH BROCCOLI RABE AND QUINOA

serves: 8 as a side, 4 as a main

notes: You can make your own balsamic glaze by reducing balsamic vinegar in a saucepan, but I find it easier (and usually economically advantageous) to buy a pre-made, high-quality glaze. If you have dried rosemary on hand, you could substitute it for the fresh by reducing the amount to 2 teaspoons. Last one: I used the fancy, truffled marcona almonds from Trader Joe's for the garnish here and it was spectacular.

Ingredients:
2 small-medium acorn squashes
1 ½ tablespoons olive oil, divided
salt and pepper, to taste
1 tablespoon minced fresh rosemary (from roughly 1 sprig)
½ cup quinoa, rinsed
1 cup vegetable stock
1 medium shallot, peeled and diced
1 celery stalk, diced
1 carrot, peeled and diced
1 tablespoon minced fresh sage (from roughly 1 sprig)
1 clove of garlic, peeled and minced
½ bunch broccoli rabe, tough ends of stems trimmed
3 tablespoons dried currants
2 tablespoons balsamic glaze
3 tablespoons marcona almonds, chopped
Preheat the oven to 400°F and line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.

Directions:
Cut the acorn squashes in half lengthwise. Scoop out the seeds and stringy bits with a spoon. Then, cut each of the seeded squash halves in half once more. You should have 8 evenly sized wedges once you’re done with both squashes.

Place the squash wedges facing up on the parchment-lined baking tray. Brush the squash flesh with about half of the olive oil. Season all of the squash with salt and pepper. Sprinkle the minced rosemary over top. Slide the tray into the oven and roast the squash for 35-40 minutes, or until the squash is tender.

While the squash is roasting, combine the rinsed quinoa, vegetable stock, and a pinch of salt in a medium saucepan. Place the saucepan over medium heat and bring to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook for about 15 minutes, or until all of the stock is absorbed and the quinoa has puffed up. Set aside.

In a large pot with a well-fitting lid, heat the remaining olive oil over medium heat. Add the diced shallots to the pot and stir. Cook until shallots are translucent, about 2 minutes. Add the diced celery and carrot and stir. Cook until all of the vegetables are slightly soft, about 3 minutes. Add the minced sage and garlic to the pot and stir. Chop the broccoli rabe into bite-sized pieces and add it to the pot.

Stir the vegetables to coat and season with salt and pepper. Add a ¼ cup of water to the pot and place the lid on top. Let the broccoli rabe steam in the pot for about 3-4 minutes. Then, remove the lid and stir in the cooked quinoa and dried currants. Remove the pot from the heat.

Place roasted squash wedges on a serving platter and carefully spoon the broccoli rabe and quinoa stuffing into the natural cavities of the squash. Drizzle all of the stuffed squash pieces with the balsamic glaze and garnish with the chopped marcona almonds. Serve immediately.

Recipe Credit: The First Mess
www.thefirstmess.com

Travis Kern 7/12/18 Travis Kern 7/12/18

Hazy Days of Summer and the Coming Change

Travis Kern, L.Ac.

Here in the Pacific NW, it takes a while for the weather to reflect the season. In fact, it's common wisdom in Portland that if you schedule an event outdoors before the 4th of July and it rains, well, you should have known better. It rains a lot here. After the 4th though, you're golden. Work and play outside to your heart's content. It will be dry, warm, and the sun will be shining. It is extra interesting to me then that the last moon of summer is today, July 12th. For the next thirty days we will experience the final moon cycle for this season that seems to have just begun. What is going on?

Understanding
Chinese Cosmology

The way that the ancient Chinese understood the universe is incredibly complex. Like all developed ancient cultures, the sages of the past looked to the stars to understand what was happening on the earth, and they took cues from the cyclical movement of the cosmos. Over millennia, this observation developed into understanding and eventually into concrete systems to explain current events, guide healthy activity, and even predict what might happen in the future. The ancient Chinese were masters of patterns and applied what they found to all aspects of life.

Based on ancient observations and teachings, the Chinese divide the year into four seasons which each have 3 moons. A moon is counted at the new moon, when the sky is dark and no moon is visible, and progresses through the full moon until the next dark sky and its new moon. This gives us 12 moons per year (roughly, there are exceptions like with everything).

Each of these moons is also divided into two qi movements or "qi nodes" that give us further insight into the movement of the qi during that part of any season. That gives us a total of 24 qi nodes for the year. Keeping track of these different movements throughout the year can help us dive more deeply into matching our food and activites to what is happening in the broader context of the season and the stars.

How Does It Work?

To create some context for all this moon and qi node stuff, let's look at some broad strokes first:

Every season's first moon is when the nature of that season is just beginning to take hold so it always still feels like the season right before. Then every season's last moon is when the season feels like it is finally in full bloom. So it takes the course of the three moons for the qi of a season to build up enough to push out into our environments. Of course one way to decide what season you are in has to do with the temperature of the air and the amount of rain or snow a place gets, but we all know that the weather is not the same everywhere in the world. But the nature of season is constant in every part of the planet, even if there might still be snow on the ground in Chicago in April. That is, there are other factors that describe any given season beyond the temperature and the amount of sunshine. We know, for example. that Spring is the season for renewal and growth (the plants come back, the flowers bloom), the Summer is a time of activity and change (it's generally warm out, the days are longer to get more done), the Fall is a time of harvest and preparation (an abundance of crops, a time to prepare and preserve for the lean months coming), and of course the Winter is a time for going slow, preserving your energy, and contemplating. And of course cuddles. Never forget about the cuddles, though they work well in any season.

Each season has is own nature that shapes what we do, what the plants and animals do, and finding harmony with that cycle is one of the paths to good living.