tiāndì (天地)
literally means “heaven & earth;” this couplet is a somewhat modified yáng-yīn (陰陽) couplet, where heaven — tiān (天) provides the creative impulse that animates and controls the physicality of earth — dì (地); whereas yáng-yīn (陰陽) is symmetric pair of images, tiāndì (天地) — heaven & earth is a symbolic pair of images that is not symmetric.
tōng (通)
to go through or penetrate; to be connected with or in communication with (by virtue of having penetrated some challenge to smooth flow and communication); thus, tōng (通) can also mean to circulate, even to the point of becoming homogeneous; to understand fully (similar to English usage of “penetrate”); frequently, a mixture of these renditions is closer to the meaning of tōng (通), than any single one.
Tōng (通) is a good example of the visual nature of the Chinese written language, which is symbolic, and most characters consist of 2-4 components, only one of which is typically phonetic; tōng (通) is related, by having the same ‘phonetic’ portion (甬), to the character tòng (痛), meaning “pain.” This latter tòng (痛) includes the disease radical (nì (疒)) in addition to the ‘phonetic’ (甬), which it shares with tōng (通).
The image of pain (tòng (痛)) reflects a disease (nì (疒)) of one’s meridian flux (jīngmài (經脈)) where the blood-qì (xuèqì (血氣)) does not penetrate or communicate freely tōng (通). Pain is the alarm, communicated from the embodied spirit to the individual’s conscious awareness that smooth flow has been compromised. This is every bit as true of emotional pain, as it is for physical pain, which arises from a blockage (bì (痹)) in the flow of qì (氣).
tōnglì (通利)
this pair of characters jointly refer to stimulating flow, and each specifically refers to a different degree of challenge to that flow — tōng (通) penetrates pervasive occlusion, while lì (利) facilities smoothness of flow. Tōnglì (通利) can have two rather different connotations, depending on how one regards the intrinsic challenges created by each individual’s compulsive attachments in life. In Língshū 47.2.5, the text identifies the harmonious nature of temperature (and thus wèiqì (衛氣)), so I’ve translated it with a conjunction of verbs “penetrates and is facilitated,” thought tōnglì (通利) could be rendered as “communicates smoothly.” This latter rendition may appear more consistent with the theme of this passage, and certainly reminds one of the language from Língshū 47.2.2 (流行, flows smoothly), which describes the expression of harmonious blood. On the other hand, wèiqì (衛氣) is constantly subject to both external and internal pathogenic factors, which tend to stagnate its free flow, as it profuses through the còulǐ (腠理) to ‘defend’ one from: real or perceived assaults from the exterior, and within the interior, wèiqì (衛氣) is responsible for harmonizing one’s emotions.
wēi (微)
means “small, slight, minute, trifling, subtle, or obscure;” it is used with “I” or “my” to express humility, which is the bearing of someone needling for ‘subtle’ déqì (得氣); wēi (微) appears in both Língshū 1.3.1 and 1.3.4; Wēi (微) is the character used to characterize the ‘small needles’ in line 1.5 of Língshū 1; the use of these wēi (微) (subtle or small) needles is one of the key themes of Língshū, and the importance of ēi (微) is reinforced in the opening few lines of Língshū 1, because the crucial dynamic (jī (機)), upon which a superior practitioner focuses, is also wēi (微). So, we are taught in the opening passage of Língshū (aka ‘The Acupuncture Classic’) to use wēi (微) needles, and focus on the crucial dynamic (jī (機)), which is also wēi (微). Should it be any wonder that déqì (得氣) is also wēi (微), rather than the gross procedures, such as lifting and thrusting or twirling, commonly taught today?
wěi (痿)
Wiseman and Ye render this character as “wilting” or “crippling wilt,” apparently borrowing from the related character ‘萎,’ a wilted or shriveled plant. I’ve chosen the somewhat more medical rendition of “atrophy.”
wèiqì (衛氣)
generally translated as “defensive qì,” and in modern Chinese medicine closely associated with the western concept of immunity, by practitioners of modern Chinese medicine. While the character wèi (衛) means “to defend,” the mental shorthand many practitioners accept from their training in modern Chinese medicine distorts the classical idea.
Wèi (衛) is one of the Three Qì, as mentioned in the opening passage of Sùwèn 3. These three qì are fundamental to, and indeed define, individual human life. Wèiqì (衛氣) is intrinsic and autonomic. It moves through the terrain of the skin and sinews — both external and internal. Wèiqì (衛氣) naturally profuses upward and outward through the còulǐ (腠理). One of its key functional movements is closing and opening: when wèiqì (衛氣) closes, it consolidates — gù (固), which protects the embodied spirit from ‘external pathogenic factors’ (xiéqì (邪氣)), and gathers yáng (陽). However, some disruptive influence (xiéqì (邪氣)) often enters, anyway. If the wèiqì (衛氣) is closed, one does not immediately release or expel the xiéqì (邪氣), which has entered. The best it can do is block further penetration, by closing even more forcefully. This gathers even more yáng (陽), which does not release outward, but instead becomes (pathological) heat. When wèiqì (衛氣) opens, it can effuse (fā (發)) freely, both spreading warmth and releasing out stagnation and the heat it generates, whether or not that stagnation is due to the accumulation of xiéqì (邪氣). However, this process of blocking xiéqì (邪氣) from penetrating through closure has been well recognized historically within Chinese Medicine; it is called shàoyáng (少陽), and while it effectively blocks the penetration of xiéqì (邪氣), it also blocks it from being released. Both the opening and closing of wèiqì (衛氣) are vitally important movements.
wǔgōng (五宮)
literally means “five palaces or temples;” this clearly refers to the five zàng (臧), and this alternate name, wǔgōng (五宮), seems to have influenced the translation of zàng (臧) as “palace(s)” by many authors before Unschuld brought the focus of translating zàng (臧) back to their function of storing the shén (神).
wǔxíng (五行)
has often been translated as “Five Elements,” though “Five Phases” is more accurate. Wǔ (五) means five; xíng (行) means “to walk, go, act, or to travel,” though also “actions, conduct, or behavior (as nouns), especially to be acceptable or competent.” The wǔxíng (五行) is the only important group of five symbolic images (xiàng (象)) used in Chinese natural philosophy, so is the sole representative of that shù (數), which signifies the group of directional movements that emanate from an undifferentiated whole. Within individual human beings, that ‘undifferentiated whole’ refers to the individual’s jīng (精) and/or its active expression in the form of yuánqì (源氣).
Each of the wǔxíng (五行) refer to both ordinary things in the world and rich, resonant symbolic images. Indeed, the common nature of these images (xiàng (象)) makes them particularly powerful: shuǐ (水), mù (木), huǒ (火), tǔ (土), and jīn (金). The wǔxíng (五行) has long been played an important role in Chinese medicine, which has been dominant since at least the Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127), when the five zàng (藏) supplanted the twelve jīngmài (經脈) as the central conceptual framework for both the theories of physiology and patho-physiology and the process of differential diagnosis. Many historical thinkers since then, including the Four Great Masters of the Jin-Yuan period (1115-1368), have framed their theories in terms of the wǔxíng (五行). Today, the popular ‘Worseley School’ of acupuncture follows this time-honored tradition in being based on the wǔxíng (五行). Like most other contemporary acupuncture and CM doctrines, it includes little emphasis on the liùhé (六合). Alas, while the wǔxíng (五行) is clearly the best shù (數) of symbolic images (xiàng (象)) to use in discussing and differentiating the five zàng (藏), it is not nearly so suitable for discussing the twelve jīngmài (經脈). For them, the liùhé (六合) is a much better shù (數).
xiàguǎn (下管)
literally means “lower tube” or even possibly “descending tube;” the last phrase of Língshū 47.20 mentions shàngguǎn (上管), which is the complementary upper or ascending tube, or it may refer to the upper duct of the stomach or the acupuncture point Wèiguǎn (胃管, Ren 13); xiàguǎn (下管) may likewise refer specifically to the lower duct of the stomach, or to the lower portion of the alimentary canal.
xiàn (陷)
literally means “to sink, or cave in,” so this could simply refer to the locations where the local tissue ‘caves in;’ these are locations where the ‘canopy’ of wèiqì (衛氣) is somehow compromised, and does not flourish. Rather than profusing smoothly, these are locations where wèiqì (衛氣) is blocked or stagnant.
The idea of focusing our attention on caves or holes is also signified in the most common classical name for an acupuncture points — xué (穴); however, the imagery of xiàn (陷) is not exactly the same: it consists of a pitfall next to a hill; following the analysis of the imagery from Shuōwén, xiàn (陷) can be read as “from the top down;” of course, this introduces the question: From the top of what down to what?
Lightly palpating the channel complexes to find xiàn (陷) is the first diagnostic method mentioned in Língshū (1.11.5) to find stagnations of wèiqì (衛氣), where the text instructs one to use needles, so that perverse qi departs. Releasing out such stagnant wèiqì (衛氣) is vitally important; just two phrases later (Língshū 1.11.7), the text warns that if not done, then needling deeply, including into the points of the ‘primary channels’ will take perverse qì deeper, which benefits disease.
xiāng (相)
means “mutual, reciprocal, direction toward;” this character is used in many formulaic statements, especially highlighting the relationship between yīn-yáng (陰陽) pairs of qualities, dating back at least to the Dàodéjīng (道德經), several centuries before Nèijīng (內經) was recorded.
xiàng (象)
literally means the “appearance, shape, or image” of something (as a noun) or can mean “to imitate, or resemble” (as a verb). In classical Chinese natural philosophy, xiàng (象) refers to a symbolic image, which generally signifies some directional movement. Groups of these xiàng (象) are used to discern movements in the world, and eventually the subtle dynamics that create and manage them — the Dào (道).
xiě (寫)
literally means “to write, sketch, compose, describe, or depict;” however, in the context of acupuncture, it is generally used as an abbreviated form of xiě (寫), which means “to drain off, or to leak;” while xiě (寫) can refer to diarrhea, when discussing acupuncture, it most often means “to drain or disperse” a point.
xié (邪)
generally translated as “perverse” or “evil,” xié (邪) usually refers to external pathogenic factors, and is most closely associated with wind — fēng (風).
xiéqì (邪氣)
is generally translated as “perverse qì.” Xié (邪) is any influence that disrupts the free flow of qì (氣). Sometimes, in Nèijīng (內經) this is referred to as xiéfēng (邪風) — perverse wind, or even just fēng (風). While in some respects this idea is the precursor of the more modern idea of ‘external pathogenic factors’ (wind, heat, cold, dampness, dryness, summer heat), which have been differentiated more finely over the centuries, xiéqì (邪氣) can also be created internally. Of course, we see this also in modern CM, which discusses dampness due to spleen deficiency and ‘liver wind’ (sometimes related to either ‘excess’ fire or blood ‘deficiency’). While these concepts share names with external pathogenic factors, they are presumably understood to be generated through distortions of the individual’s qì (氣) generation and management functions.
xíng (形)
generally means “the body” or the “form” (of something), though xíng (形) is also used as a verb, meaning “to appear” or “to take shape or form.”
xíng (行)
literally means “to move (especially forward) or walk” with the connotation of moving or even flowing freely; later in Chinese medical history xíng (行) is often used to identify one’s automatic circulation, though it cannot be translated that way in Nèijīng, which is itself the source of that idea of continuous circulation.
xū (虛)
xū (虛) and shí (實) are used rather differently early in Língshū 1 and throughout Nèijīng (內經) than we generally see in the modern clinical doctrine of Chinese medicine. Wiseman renders xū (虛) as “vacuous,” and Unschuld uses “empty” in much of his translation of Sùwèn. Xū (虛) and shí (實) do not mean ‘deficient’ and ‘excess,’ as they are frequently translated in modern Chinese medical contexts; see notes on bùzú (不足) and yǒuyú (有餘).
xū (虛)
often juxtaposed in both classical and modern Chinese medicine by shí (實), though with somewhat different significance, as in Língshū 52.2.4; this pair — xū (虛) and shí (實) is often translated as “deficient” and “excess;” however, xū (虛) literally means “hollow, unreal, empty, or insubstantial;” in Língshū 52.6, xū (虛) is juxtaposed with chéng (盛), which means “abundant, plentiful, or flourishing.”
xù or chù (畜)
as chù, it simply means “a domesticated animal;” as xù, it means “to rear or cultivate, to accumulate, or even to restrain (the willfulness of a prince, as in 畜君);” the pair of characters in Sùwèn 3.6, 畜積 (xù jī) has become a common expression, which means “to gather together,” though I’ve rendered them as individual characters in that passage.
xuèqì (血氣)
these two characters are often translated simply as the conjunction “blood and qì,” though they are not truly separable ‘things’ (nouns). They are a yīn-yáng (陰陽) nexus, and thus they represent a single vital flow that can then be differentiated as it serves the inspirited alignments of the various zàng. The zàng contain the spirits that animate the individual’s qì; the blood-qì nexus is often characterized by the well-known expression: qì is the master of blood, and blood is the mother of qì; also, within each individual’s life, blood provides the capacity to experience phenomena, and qì the ability to act in (and on) the world; thus, one might identify xuèqì (血氣) with post-natal qì (後天之氣). The yīn-yáng nexus of xuèqì (血氣) represents the moment-to-moment vital functions of life: xuè (血) provides the capacity to experience phenomena and qì (氣) the ability to act out one’s intention.
xūshí (虛石)
literally means “empty or insubstantial stone;” this appears to refer to the patient’s jīng (精), as the second character of this expression shí (石), alone, seems to mean in Lingshu 52.6.6.
yǎng (養)
literally means “to nourish, rear, bring up, care for, or bear children;” also “to support or maintain;” in a modern context this character even refers to oxygen. Concerning the use of yǎng (養) in Língshū 1.10, how is qì nourished by retaining needles for a long time?
yào (要)
want or will, especially what is ‘vital’ or ‘essential’ to survive as in 重要 (zhòngyào), rather than desires based in whim or some neurotic compulsion.
yí (宜)
what is suitable or right, to put something right
yì (意)
literally, “meaning or idea,” as in 意義 (yìyì) or 意思 (yìsi); “wish, desire, or intention,” as in 意願 (yìyuàn); “regard or attention,” as in 注意 (zhùyì); “think or expect,” as in 意想 (yìxiǎng);
yì (意) is one of the wǔshén (五神), which is associated with the Earth phase, and it is generally translated as “intention” or “thought,” though it also refers to an individual’s presence and attention. Zhì (志) and yì (意) are frequently used together, and in those cases, they can often best be considered a complex, which I’ve rendered as “purposeful intent;” the key reason to consider these aspects of shén (神) as complexes is that the three complexes can then be understood at the activating factor of the three qì (as in Sùwèn 3.1.4).
yí (移)
to move across, to shift, transmit or convey, to influence, to change or transform; according to Shuōwén, the original image represented transplanting sprouts of grain, which comes from hé (禾) meaning ‘grain,’ and duō (多) meaning ‘many or much;’ in Sùwèn 13, yí (移) refers to the changes or transformations of the individual’s jīng (精); I’ve chosen most often to render yí (移) as ‘transmute’ to suggest its fundamental alchemical nature, and to distinguish it from both biàn (變) and huà (化), which are the ‘transformations’ of post-natal qì (氣).
yīn (陰)
yǐn (飲)
the water one drinks, which are retained in the body; these can be further differentiated into jīn (津) and yè (液), as in Língshū 47.3.3 above. The jīn (津) are conveyed to the lungs by the spleen and stomach, and then the lungs conduct these jīn (津) upward and outward to nourish (and be transformed through physical movement) into wèiqì (衛氣).
yīng (應)
literally means “ought, should, or must;” or something that is “suitable, right, proper, fitting, or necessary;” pronounced slightly differently yìng (應), it means “to respond, comply, consent, adapt, cope with, or apply;” while I’ve rendered yīng (應) or yìng (應) as “respond” (as a verb) or “responsiveness (as an adjective); its significance throughout the end of Língshū 47 combines several of these meanings to various degrees; in many contexts within Chinese medicine, Unschuld and others render yīng as “correspond,” “correlate,” (as verbs) or “correspondence,” (as a noun) or “correlative” (as an adjective). When understood within the context of classical Chinese thought as an active relationship or resonance, these communicate its sense well enough. However, these renditions have also led to the unfortunate modern tendency to simple render such relationships into charts of information, which degrades the rich idea of resonance implied by yīng (應).