I was 19 when I was diagnosed with PCOS. I didn’t know then how much of my life would be shaped by those four letters — my health trajectory, my clinical focus, eventually my doctorate.

What I knew at 19 was that I felt terrible. Physically struggling, emotionally depleted, metabolically dysregulated in ways I didn’t yet have language for. Years of accumulated stress and grief had settled into my body and made a home there.

What ultimately transformed my health was not, as I once imagined it might be, some aggressive intervention or cutting-edge protocol. It was a return. To herbal medicine. To acupuncture. To food that nourished rather than stimulated. To movement. To metabolic stability. To earth-based rhythms of rest and activity and community. The body, it turns out, often knows the way back. It just needs conditions in which to remember.

Years later — pregnant with my son at 37, a different kind of full circle — I completed my doctorate. My central argument: that PCOS is fundamentally a metabolic syndrome. That the reproductive symptoms so many of us are treated for are downstream of something deeper, more systemic, more interconnected than conventional gynecology had typically framed.

This week, a major global medical consensus published in The Lancet announced something that stopped me mid-scroll.

PCOS will be officially renamed Polyendocrine Metabolic Ovarian Syndrome — PMOS.

The new name recognizes what many integrative and Chinese medicine practitioners have understood for a long time: this is a complex, multisystem condition involving endocrine, metabolic, reproductive, and inflammatory pathways. Not a reproductive anomaly with metabolic side effects. A metabolic condition with reproductive expression.

The shift is more than semantic. Naming shapes treatment. When we understand a condition as primarily reproductive, we treat the ovaries. When we understand it as metabolic — as a disorder of systemic regulation, of fire and flow and the body’s capacity to process and transform — we treat the whole person.

What this means in practice:

If you have PCOS, or if someone you love does, this reframing is important. The interventions that address metabolic health at a root level are not alternatives to real medicine. They are, increasingly, what the evidence points toward.

Nervous system regulation. Nourishing, anti-inflammatory food. Herbal medicine. Acupuncture. Strength training. Sauna. Community. Routine. These are not gentle consolations while you wait for a pharmaceutical answer. They are metabolic medicine.

What Chinese medicine has always understood:

In Chinese medicine, there is a concept called Kidney Yang — the metabolic fire of the body, the warming, transforming, activating force that drives digestion, hormonal function, circulation, and vitality. When Kidney Yang is deficient, we see a recognizable pattern: bloating, water retention, accumulation of what we call damp-phlegm, cold extremities, fatigue, and yes — ovarian cysts, irregular cycles, hormonal dysregulation.

The pattern we now call PMOS.

Chinese medicine didn’t have an MRI or an endocrine panel. It had thousands of years of careful observation. It mapped the terrain of human physiology through a different lens — and arrived, with remarkable precision, at the same territory that The Lancet is only now formally naming.

I say this not to be dismissive of modern medicine, which I deeply respect and practice alongside. I say it because it matters that wisdom traditions be given their due. And because for those of us who have been working in this space — treating PCOS as a metabolic, whole-system condition — this moment feels like confirmation of something we already knew to be true.

At Wild Qi:

Supporting your metabolic health is one of our deepest commitments. Not metabolic health as a fitness trend, but metabolic health as a reflection of your whole being — body, mind, spirit, hormones, nervous system, relationship to food, to rest, to community, to the earth.

Your Kidney Yang is your metabolic fire. We are here to tend it.

If you’re navigating PCOS or PMOS — or if you’re simply trying to understand why your energy, your cycles, your weight, your mood don’t feel like they belong to you — we’d love to work with you.

The medicine has always been here. Now the world is starting to see it.

At 21, I moved to India to live at an ashram called Vedanta Academy, where I spent four years studying Vedanta Philosophy full-time. It was there that I met my ex-husband, and where we built a beautiful life as spiritual seekers, committed to a child-free path. Vasectomy and all.

I was certain I didn’t want children. Until suddenly, I wasn’t.

Two years after returning from India, I began my master’s in Chinese Medicine — and at 28, something in me shifted. I wanted to be a mother. And if you know anything about that particular desire, you know it doesn’t negotiate. It turned my whole life around.

My ex didn’t want parenthood. In his view, the spiritual path couldn’t survive sleepless nights and radical attachment. (Writing this now with a baby at my breast, I completely understand him — but I was unwavering.) This wasn’t something I could shift.

So my beloved eight-year marriage fell apart. My spiritual path pivoted sharply toward the feminine. And in my early 30s, I was single, childless, and radically uncertain.

Through deep faith in the path of the mother, my journey to fertility unfolded alongside my education in Chinese Medicine. And everything I learned — in clinic and in life — is woven into what follows.

The Chinese Medicine Approach to Fertility

As a Doctor of Chinese Medicine and now as a mother, I can tell you this: the Chinese Medicine approach to fertility is not separate from the Dao — it is the Dao. The Way.

It begins at the intersection of dharma, biology, and desire. When a woman feels the pull toward motherhood, something fundamental shifts. It is a surrender — to biology, to the unknown, to a path woven with joy and grief, magic and trust.

Trust, above all, is the core of this work.

Rest, Nourishment, Self-Love

The journey toward motherhood is paved by a calm nervous system, a trusting heart, and a body you feel at home in. This has nothing to do with whether you conceive spontaneously, through IUI, IVF, or in ways that defy explanation. It is about the inward journey — the one that begins before conception and shapes everything that follows.

Rest is not the same as stopping. Rest is surrender — often expressed as trust. Trust in your body, your partner, and the process itself.

Nourishment means you are worthy of being nourished — through food, community, and the quiet practice of self-compassion. This is not indulgence. It is medicine.

Self-love means loving yourself through doubt, through missteps, through the hardest chapters of this journey. This is the real work.

When these three root systems fall out of balance, the whole being follows. Add a declining hormonal profile, an inflamed gut, autoimmune tendencies, anxiety, and disrupted sleep — and the body is fighting itself on every front. This is the reality for so many women. But Chinese Medicine can genuinely help.

Herbal Medicine: Eight Plant Allies at the Heart of Women’s Healing

In Chinese Medicine, herbs are not supplements. They are medicine — intelligent, layered, alive. Each one carries a specific action, a particular affinity for certain organs and tissues, a history of use spanning thousands of years.

These eight herbs appear in my practice more than almost any others. They are the ones I return to again and again when supporting women through the full arc of their lives — from cycle regulation and fertility to postpartum recovery and menopause.

A note: These herbs are most powerful when prescribed as part of a personalized formula. Please do not self-prescribe. Chinese herbal medicine is a clinical art, and the wrong herb for your pattern can cause harm. Always work with a trained practitioner.

當歸 Dāng Guī — Dang Gui Nourishes & moves the blood

Often called the “female ginseng,” Dang Gui is perhaps the most revered herb in all of Chinese gynecology. It has the rare dual capacity to both nourish blood and move it — building what is deficient while clearing what is stuck. I reach for it in almost every women’s formula: for painful, irregular, or absent periods; for postpartum recovery; for the deep fatigue that comes from years of giving. Warming, sweet, and slightly pungent — it is a herb that holds you.

白芍 Bái Sháo — Bai Shao Softens the liver, eases tension

Where Dang Gui moves, Bai Shao softens. This elegant root nourishes Liver blood and eases the tension that comes when the Liver is constrained — the cramping, the irritability, the tightness in the chest before a period. It is cooling and astringent, calming to the nervous system, and beautifully paired with Dang Gui in classical formulas. For women who hold too much, who clench and push through — Bai Shao gently loosens the grip.

生地黃 Shēng Dì Huáng — Sheng Di Huang Replenishes yin & cools heat

This is the herb I reach for when a woman is running hot — night sweats, hot flashes, the restless heat that wakes her at 3am. Sheng Di Huang cools the blood, replenishes yin, and anchors the heat that rises when the body’s deep fluids are depleted. It is deeply nourishing — like drinking cool, still water at a cellular level. Particularly essential in perimenopause and menopause, and for women who have depleted themselves through years of stress and overgiving.

黨參 Dǎng Shēn — Dang Shen Builds qi & supports digestion

A gentler cousin of Ginseng, Dang Shen is the great restorer of Spleen qi — the digestive and energetic foundation of the body. When a woman is exhausted, depleted, pale, and running on empty, Dang Shen quietly rebuilds. It strengthens the gut, supports blood production, and lifts a quality of fatigue that no amount of sleep seems to touch. I use it consistently in postpartum formulas and for women in the midst of burnout.

枸杞子 Gǒu Qǐ Zǐ — Goji Berry Nourishes liver & kidney, brightens the eyes & spirit

Long before goji became a wellness trend, it was a staple of Chinese longevity medicine. In clinic, I value it for its ability to nourish Liver and Kidney yin and blood — the deep reserves that govern reproductive health, vitality, and aging. It brightens the eyes (literally and figuratively), supports egg quality in fertility protocols, and brings a gentle sweetness to formulas. It’s also one of the most accessible medicinal foods: a small handful daily in warm water or congee is a simple act of self-nourishment.

香附 Xiāng Fù — Xiang Fu Moves qi, regulates menses, relieves emotional constraint

Known in classical texts as the “primary herb for gynecology,” Xiang Fu is the great mover of stagnant Liver qi. When emotion becomes lodged in the body — the unexpressed grief, the swallowed anger, the tension that settles into the pelvis and chest — Xiang Fu opens the channels and allows things to flow again. It is specific to menstrual irregularity caused by stress and emotional holding, and one of the herbs I use most for PMS, endometriosis, and cycle disruption in women who are carrying too much.

杜仲 Dù Zhòng — Du Zhong Tonifies kidney yang, strengthens bones & sinews, calms the fetus

Du Zhong is the bark of a tree, and it carries the strength of one. It tonifies Kidney yang, fortifies the low back and knees, and strengthens the sinews and bones — making it essential for women in their 40s, 50s, and beyond navigating bone density changes, joint pain, and the physical shifts of menopause. It is also traditionally used in pregnancy to calm a restless fetus and prevent miscarriage. A deeply grounding, stabilizing medicine.

茯苓 Fú Líng — Fu Ling Resolves dampness, calms the shen, supports digestion

Fu Ling is a fungus that grows on the roots of pine trees, and it has been used in Chinese Medicine for over two thousand years as a medicine for the mind and the gut together. It resolves dampness and phlegm — the heaviness, bloating, and foggy thinking that arise when the Spleen is struggling — and it simultaneously calms the Shen, easing anxiety, rumination, and disturbed sleep. One of the most gentle and widely applicable herbs in the entire materia medica.

Acupuncture & the Meridians of Fertility

Three meridians are central to the fertility journey:

The Spleen 脾 (Pí) governs digestion, blood production, and the mind’s ability to rest. When the Spleen is depleted, the body struggles to nourish itself — or a growing life.

The Liver 肝 (Gān) regulates the smooth flow of qi and blood. Stress, frustration, and emotional holding constrict the Liver — disrupting cycles, hormones, and ease.

The Heart 心 (Xīn) holds the Shen, the spirit. In Chinese Medicine, implantation itself is understood as a Heart function. A calm, open heart creates the conditions for life.

Acupuncture works along these meridians to reduce inflammation, regulate hormones, support blood flow to the uterus, and bring the nervous system into a state of receptivity.

Nourishment Through Food

In Chinese Medicine, food is medicine — and the fertility diet is less about restriction and more about deep nourishment. The goal is to build blood, warm the center, and support the body’s ability to receive.

Eat warm, cooked foods. A cold uterus cannot hold. Raw salads, cold smoothies, and iced drinks deplete the digestive fire your body needs to absorb nutrients and build blood. Prioritize warm, cooked meals — soups, stews, congee, roasted vegetables. Think of it as tending a flame.

Build blood. Blood deficiency is one of the most common patterns I see in women navigating fertility challenges. Focus on dark leafy greens (spinach, chard, nettle), grass-fed red meat and liver, black beans and kidney beans, beets, dates, figs, and bone broth.

Protect your Jing. Jing is your constitutional essence — the deep reserve stored in the Kidneys that governs reproduction and vitality. Foods that replenish it: walnuts, black sesame seeds, eggs (especially the yolk), wild-caught salmon and sardines, miso and fermented foods.

Reduce what depletes you. Cold and raw foods, sugar and refined carbohydrates, alcohol, excess caffeine, and highly processed foods all work against this process.

The fertility diet is not a cleanse or a sprint. It is a slow, steady act of self-love. Eating warm, nourishing, whole foods — consistently, without perfectionism — sends a signal to your body that it is safe. That resources are available. That life can be sustained here.

Ready to explore what Chinese Medicine can offer your fertility journey? Wild Qi offers personalized herbal consultations and acupuncture with Dr. Nathalie Shapiro.

→ Book a consultation at Wild Qi

I received that education early.

My father died when I was fourteen. He had lived for years with Type 1 diabetes and kidney failure — we grew up near UCLA so he could be close to the care he needed. In his final years, the most physically diminished of his life, something unexpected happened: he found connection to spirituality, Through our Rabbi, Mordecai Finlay, he found faith, community, and — improbably — song. Though not the best singer out there, he was always the first one standing, always the loudest, always mortifying. But he believed in something beyond himself, and that belief made him full of light even as his body failed him.

I was present when he died — in a hospital room, after he aspirated during surgery because a nurse had fed him too close to the procedure. To witness a life leave the body is both sacred and shattering. I watched the elements leave his body in sequence. The water. The air. The fire. I watched the spirit depart. And then I sat in that hospital room, and I looked down at the farmers market on Westwood Boulevard below, and I felt a rage that I still remember clearly: how can people be normal right now? Where has he gone?

Grief does not resolve. It transforms.

Mine sent me down a long and winding road — years of searching, of what I can only describe as dark nights of the soul, before I found my footing again through Yoga and Chinese Medicine. These were not quick fixes. They were, and continue to be, entire ways of seeing.

The teaching that has stayed with me most deeply is Karma Yoga: the path of selfless action. The idea that the purpose of a life is not accumulation — not comfort, not even happiness in the conventional sense — but service. That what we do for others is the very thing that frees us.

This is why I built Wild Qi rather than buying a home for myself. Why I chose to invest in community, in shared space, in something that requires me to show up every single day — not just as a practitioner, but as a student of my own practice. The investment is not only financial. It is spiritual. It asks something of me daily.

Some mornings, as a mother, I wake up wanting nothing more than to live quietly by a river and not work. I feel that longing genuinely. And I have also come to understand that the longing itself is part of the path — that learning to rest is as sacred as learning to serve. That receiving is its own discipline.

We built a river at Wild Qi because of this. Literally. A place to remember that healing is not only something we do — it is something we must also allow.

Health is one of the most subtle journeys a person undertakes. Its most important movements are often invisible: a shift in the nervous system, a softening of chronic holding, the moment when a body remembers it is safe. These changes don’t announce themselves. They accumulate quietly, over time, in the right conditions.

This is what we are building toward with our newest offering — Ether. The Subtle Path. A membership devoted to the quiet medicine: Chinese herbal teas, foot baths, sauna, subtle energy, acupuncture, deep rest, community . Not the dramatic intervention, but the slow return.

The waitlist is open. Spots are limited.

If something in this essay has spoken to you, I think you’ll understand why.

→ [Join the Ether Waitlist]

Dr. Nathalie Shapiro, L.Ac., DAOM Founder, Wild Qi www.wildqi.com

This is the journey of Chinese medicine, a deep dive into energy healing and connection.

To study the meridians is to remember that the body is not mechanical. It is ecological.

Qi flows through pathways that connect the surface to the interior, the physical to the emotional, the individual to the environment. These pathways—our meridians—carry not only blood and energy, but perception, memory, and spirit.

When we touch a point, we are not just treating a symptom. We are entering a conversation.

LEARN MORE HERE

The Five Elements: A Map of Transformation

At the heart of this system lives the Five Elements—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water.

These are not abstract ideas. They are movements of life.

• Wood is growth, vision, direction. The energy of spring. The Liver’s capacity to move Qi and emotions.

• Fire is connection, joy, intimacy. The Heart’s expression of spirit.

• Earth is nourishment, digestion, grounding. Our ability to receive and transform.

• Metal is letting go, refinement, boundaries. The Lung’s relationship to grief and clarity.

• Water is essence, will, restoration. The deep reserves of the Kidneys.

We are never just “imbalanced.” We are always in dynamic relationship with these forces.

In clinic, this means we are not treating isolated symptoms—we are listening for patterns of movement.

A headache may be rising Fire.
Fatigue may be depleted Earth.
Anxiety may be stagnated Wood.
Fertility challenges may reflect deeper Water reserves.

The work is not to “fix,” but to guide the body back into rhythm.

Wild Qi Clinic: A Living Expression of This Medicine

Wild Qi was created from this understanding.

Not as a place to treat problems—but as a place to restore relationship.

A place where care is not transactional, but immersive.

Where multiple modalities are not separate, but woven together.

Where your body is not rushed, but listened to.

Q & A: What Does Care at Wild Qi Actually Look Like?

What makes Wild Qi different from a typical clinic?
We operate as an integrative care model. This means you may work with a team or 1:1 with your provider, acupuncture, physical therapy, integrative medicine, energy medicine, osteopathic medicine, nutrition, coaching—designed specifically for you. Your care is collaborative, not fragmented.

Do I need to know exactly what I need before coming in?
No. Many patients come in with a general sense of imbalance—fatigue, hormonal shifts, pain, emotional overwhelm. We help you understand your pattern and guide you toward the right care.

What kinds of conditions do you treat?
We specialize in women’s health, fertility, postpartum care, pain, nervous system regulation, and longevity—but the deeper truth is that we treat patterns, not diagnoses.

Do you take insurance?
Each provider at Wild Qi operates independently and may choose whether or not to accept insurance. We recommend speaking directly with your specific provider to understand their options. Most of our providers are able to provide superbills for potential reimbursement.

Can I just come for acupuncture?
Yes. You can receive focused care with a single provider, or expand into a more integrative approach over time.

What is the Wild Qi Clinical Immersion?
This is our most transformative offering. A personalized, multi-day or multi-month journey where you work closely with a curated team of providers, integrating treatments, movement, nourishment, and education. It is designed for those ready to deeply shift their health.

Returning to the Body

The meridian system teaches us something simple and profound:

Health is not something we achieve.
It is something we return to.

A return to flow.
A return to rhythm.
A return to relationship.

This is the work.

And this is the invitation.

.I know spring is arriving before the calendar tells me

The pulses begin to shift - subtly at first, rising with a touch more Yang. There’s a quiet activation in the body, and then suddenly, it’s everywhere. People feel it. A kind of urgency begins to move through the collective.

Right now, that urgency feels like a call toward authenticity.
To show up fully, as a mother, a partner, a practitioner, a business owner, a student. To stop performing and start aligning.

Spring is not a gentle season. It is a wake-up.

The flowers bloom, yes, but they do so with force. Energy rises, pushes, expands. Here in Ojai, the heat comes early, almost abruptly, amplifying that sense of acceleration. After the stillness of winter, the shift into movement can feel… confronting.

In Chinese Medicine, we are transitioning into the energy of the Liver (肝, Gan)—the organ system associated with the Wood element and the Jue Yin stage. This energy governs the smooth flow of Qi. When it moves freely, we feel clear, creative, and purposeful. When it stagnates, we feel it immediately.

Frustration. Irritability. Tension.
A short fuse, sometimes with the people we love most.

Sound familiar?

This sensitivity is often heightened in women, whose bodies are inherently cyclical and deeply attuned to nature’s rhythms. We see Liver Qi stagnation show up before menstruation, during pregnancy, in the postpartum period, and throughout menopause.

And sometimes… just all the time.

It can feel like a lack of ease, a subtle inability to relax into life. A kind of internal pressure that builds until something releases. And then, in a moment of awareness, you soften. You remember: everything is okay. The Qi moves again.

This is the work of spring.

One of the core principles of health in Chinese Medicine is movement. And in spring, this becomes essential—not just physical movement, but mental and emotional movement.

For me, this season is asking for a shift in how I relate to my thoughts.

Instead of getting caught in anxiety, I practice curiosity.
Instead of resisting discomfort, I inquire into it.

The more I turn toward my thoughts with openness, the less power they hold.
And from that place, I can return to what matters: presence, clarity, and meaningful work.

Nourishing the Body in Spring

To support the Liver and encourage smooth Qi flow:

• Dandelion greens
  

• Nettles
  

• Warm lemon water in the morning
  

• Bone broths with ginger
  

Herbal Support for Liver Qi Stagnation

A classical formula often used in this season is Jia Wei Xiao Yao San (加味逍遥散), which includes:

• Chai Hu (柴胡)
  

• Dang Gui (当归)
  

• Bai Shao (白芍)
  

• Bai Zhu (白术)
  

• Fu Ling (茯苓)
  

• Zhi Gan Cao (炙甘草)
  

• Mu Dan Pi (牡丹皮)
  

• Zhi Zi (栀子)
  

• Sheng Jiang (生姜)
  

• Bo He (薄荷)
  

(Always prescribed based on individual diagnosis.)

Spring doesn’t ask us to do more.
It asks us to move differently.

To let what has been stagnant begin to shift,
in the body, in the mind, and in the way we live.

In a world where women are trained to give, perform, achieve, and endure, the act of receiving can feel foreign, even uncomfortable. Yet in clinical practice, I have found that the restoration of health often begins not with effort, but with receptivity.

The journey of receiving is ultimately the journey into the living relationship between the womb and the heart. This is the true work of women’s reproductive health.

As a clinician specializing in women’s health through the lens of Chinese Medicine, I am constantly reminded that healing begins when a woman becomes aware of the dialogue between her Heart (心 Xin) and her Uterus (胞宫 Bao Gong). This is true whether or not a woman has a physical uterus. The womb in Chinese medicine is not merely an anatomical structure; it is an energetic center of creation, blood, memory, and lineage.

For centuries, Chinese medical texts have described this relationship through a channel known as the Bao Mai (胞脉), often translated as the “Uterus Vessel.” Classical literature explains that the Bao Mai is the energetic pathway linking the Heart (心 Xin) — the residence of the Shen (神), or spirit — and the Uterus (胞宫 Bao Gong).

The Bao Mai is not one of the primary twelve meridians. It is subtler than that. It is described as an internal bridge between two profound centers of intelligence:

• The Heart (心 Xin) — the home of consciousness, emotion, and spirit

• The Uterus (胞宫 Bao Gong) — the palace of Blood, menstruation, fertility, and gestation

In the Su Wen (素问, Simple Questions), it is written:

“The Bao Mai pertains to the Heart and connects with the Uterus.”

This ancient sentence reveals something modern medicine is only beginning to articulate: emotional life and reproductive health are inseparable.

And yet, in contemporary medical culture, reproductive symptoms are often suppressed rather than listened to. Birth control is routinely prescribed to teenage girls, sometimes before they are sexually active, for acne, painful periods, or irregular cycles. While hormonal therapy certainly has its place, the broader cultural reflex to silence symptoms rather than inquire into them has consequences.

When reproductive symptoms are muted without deeper listening, the conversation between heart and womb grows faint.

In Chinese Medicine, this suppression can manifest as stagnation within the Bao Mai - a disruption in the free flow between emotion and physiology. Clinically, we may see this as:

• PCOS

• PMDD

• Fibroids

• Adenomyosis

• Endometriosis

• Infertility

• Diminished ovarian reserve

These conditions are complex and multifactorial. But beneath hormonal imbalances and inflammatory cascades, there is often a deeper disconnection, a muted dialogue between Shen (神) and Blood.

Rarely do we pause to question the broader cultural narrative that distances women from their innate relationship with their bodies. Generations of dismissal, minimization, and shame have quietly eroded trust. Over time, women begin to outsource authority, to clinicians, to labs, to algorithms, rather than cultivating inner listening.

The work, then, is not only hormonal.

It is relational.

It is about restoring the conversation between heart and womb.

What is the nature of this transition?

From the perspective of Chinese medicine, this is not simply a zodiac shift. It is a profound energetic reorientation. What makes it even more layered is that we enter this Fire year during the season of Spring, the season governed by Wood.

So while the calendar turns toward Fire, the Earth itself is surging with Wood qi.

We are departing Wood during Wood season.
Wood feeding Fire.
Vision feeding illumination.

There is something deeply intelligent here.

The Energy of Wood

Let us begin with the Wood element.

Wood is penetration. Direction. Gradual but persistent movement toward a clearly defined goal. It is the sprout breaking through soil. It is the wind that moves consistently in one direction.

The I Ching describes this in Hexagram 57, The Gentle (The Penetrating, Wind):

“Penetration produces gradual and inconspicuous effects… If one would produce such effects, one must have a clearly defined goal, for only when the penetrating influence works always in the same direction can the object be attained.”

Wood is not chaotic.
It is purposeful.
It organizes around vision.

In the body, Wood corresponds to the Liver. In the psyche, it houses the Hun.

The Hun (魂) and the Shen (神) — Wood and Fire

Lori Eve Dechar describes the Hun as “the upper soul realm, the transitional realm that exists between heaven and the horizon line where qi solidifies into matter and form.”

In the microcosm of the psyche, the Hun is the ethereal soul, the yang, breath-like, spiritual aspect of the soul. It dreams. It imagines. It moves between realms. It is subtle and not entirely fixed. The Hun carries vision forward, even beyond this lifetime.

While the Hun is rooted in the Liver and the element of Wood, the Shen resides in the Heart and belongs to Fire.

This merging of Wood and Fire is powerful.

The Shen is described as the messenger of Heaven, the intermediary between Heaven and the self. Fire is expression, illumination, relational presence. The ancient Chinese saw the guiding light not outside of us, but within — the luminous conscience of the Heart, the Xin.

The Heart (心) is not merely a physical organ in Chinese medicine. It is the sovereign. It houses consciousness. It governs joy. It reflects Heaven.

The Shen makes us visible.

And what more potent symbol of the Heart spirit — the Shen — than the wild, untamed Fire Horse?

The true wild.

From Shadow to Flame

We move from the Wood Snake — shedding, quiet, inward, coiled — into the bright yang momentum of the Fire Horse.

From shadow to flame.
From coiling to galloping.
From interior vision carried by the Hun to embodied expression illuminated by the Shen.

Yet this Fire year begins in Spring, when Wood is rising.

This is not reckless fire.
It is Wood feeding Fire.
The Hun informing the Shen.
Vision clarifying expression.

The Heart must be steady enough to carry the flame.
The Shen must be rooted enough to guide.

This year asks us not simply to burn brightly, but to burn consciously.

To let vision become embodied.
To let imagination become relational.
To let the sovereign Heart lead.

Make large strides — yes.
But let them be guided by the clarity of your inner fire.

Pulses change. Quite literally.

My days are spent tending to the energy field, the circadian rhythms of the season, of organ systems, of elements. Today we invite Fire, Water, and Wood.

The New Year approaching in one week invites us into the season of the Fire Horse, while the Water element still surrounds us, just as we enter the season of the Liver, the Wood energy. I prescribed Jia Wei Xiao Yao San three times in clinic today. We are clearly entering the season of the Liver.

Chinese Medicine offers us a kind of quiet magic, a way of listening that helps us live more attuned to life itself.

In this season, the elements are shifting from the Wood Snake to the Fire Horse. And now it rains here in Ojai, bringing us Water, the element that in some ways permeates both Wood and Fire.

In the Five Element system of Chinese Medicine, Wood, Fire, and Water are in continuous relationship through two primary cycles: the generating cycle and the controlling cycle.

In the generating cycle, Water gives rise to Wood, and Wood gives rise to Fire.

Water is the root. It is the deep reservoir, Kidney energy, Jing, the stored potential of winter. Just as rain nourishes a tree, Water nourishes Wood. In the body, Kidney Yin and essence provide the foundation for Liver Blood, growth, vision, and direction.

When Water is strong, Wood can grow with flexibility and steadiness. When Water is depleted, Wood may become brittle, expressed as frustration, rigidity, hormonal dysregulation. Without sufficient depth, expansion becomes strained.

In the controlling cycle, which we will focus on in today’s article, Water controls Fire.

Water keeps Fire from burning too intensely.

Physiologically, Kidney Yin anchors Heart Fire. This is often referred to as the Heart and Kidney axis, the relationship between depth and expression, between essence and consciousness.

When Water properly anchors Fire, there is passion with stability, joy with grounding, spirit housed comfortably in the body. When Water is insufficient, Fire can rise unchecked: insomnia, anxiety, restlessness, a sense of being uncontained.

Seasonally, this unfolds as:

Winter, Water: restoration, storage, depth
Spring, Wood: emergence, direction, activation
Summer, Fire: expansion, connection, radiance

Each element depends on the one before it and moderates the one beyond it. Without winter, spring becomes strained. Without spring, summer lacks vitality. Without Water, Wood overreaches. Without Water, Fire burns out.

This is the subtle medicine of balance. Depth nourishes growth, growth fuels expression, and expression must be anchored by depth.

At Wild Qi, depth is created through the weaving of elements and the people working and relating within them.

Wood energy is the energy of the Liver, the organ of Spring. It is the energy of emergence, of upward movement, of plans and direction. The pulses of the Liver are said to be wiry, sometimes even frantic or disorganized, as Yang begins to permeate the field.

Yang energy, movement, penetration, direction, ambition, begins here. And it is stirring.

Light.
Heat.
The promise of summer.

And yet, what I am hearing in clinic is something else.

The lack of deep winter here in Ojai has left some people not fully restored, not fully nourished in their Yin. Without true winter, true stillness, expansion can feel forced.

And here lies the medicine: balance.

An old friend used to say, “Everything in moderation, even excess.”

Sometimes that excess is deep stillness, leaning further into Yin even as Yang rises.
Sometimes it is restraint.
Sometimes it is the courage to act.

To show up.
To move.
To create.
To allow life to become a creative flow instead of a reaction.

As an acupuncturist, as a mother, as someone building community, I feel this dance daily. There are moments of stillness with my child. Moments of vision with Wild Qi. Moments in clinic when I can feel the pulse shifting beneath my fingers, Wood giving way to Fire.

Because after Wood comes Fire.

The energy of Fire, the Heart, Xin in Chinese Medicine.

Fire is joy.
Connection.
Consciousness.
Aliveness.

If Wood is the plan, Fire is the expression.
If Wood is ambition, Fire is intimacy.

And so we listen.
To the pulse.
To the season.
To what is truly ready to emerge.

One pulse at a time.

Though the course was ostensibly about treating children, what it truly awakened in me was a deeper understanding of Qi, the life force within children and within all of us. I began to see clearly that many of us, as adults, are profoundly disconnected from this original vitality we are born with, and that this disconnection is at the root of much illness, fatigue, and suffering.

One day in class, Dr. Stephen Cowen MD spoke about the unique quality of life force within a child. He called it Wild Qi.

I looked at my son, around four months old at the time, who could move through every possible emotion within a single minute, who magnetized love simply by being, who offered joy to the world without effort. And I thought, yes.

This is Wild Qi. He is Wild Qi. We are Wild Qi.

Two months later, in a sudden and improbable turn of events, my husband, our son, and I found ourselves moving to Ojai, California, for my husband’s work. It was one of those precise alignments that only makes sense in hindsight. Instead of buying a home, we decided, almost on a whim and with a six-month-old baby in our arms, to buy a building. That building would eventually become an integrative medicine clinic and community center opening in January 2026 called Wild Qi.

And so, my life became a devotion to this study. The unconscious life force within our child, within the land, within the universe, within all beings. The force that connects. That inspires. That generates love in the heart without instruction.

As we settled into Ojai and began building this project, a space that is part clinic, part community gathering place, part nature-based retreat, I began to understand something essential.

While Wild Qi is innate, it also requires conscious cultivation in adult life.

A remembering.
A return.

So first, let us examine the meaning of the Chinese character that translates as Qi.

Qi, written as 氣, is often translated as energy, but this is only a partial understanding. Qi is more accurately described as the vital force that animates all life. It is the invisible current that moves through bodies, landscapes, weather systems, emotions, and time itself.

The traditional Chinese character is composed of two parts. The upper portion depicts steam or vapor rising. The lower portion represents uncooked rice. Together they form a simple yet profound image. Steam rising from rice as it cooks. Something solid becomes something subtle. Matter becomes movement. Form gives rise to the formless.

Qi, then, is the moment of transformation. The place where substance turns into life.

In classical Chinese thought, Qi is neither purely material nor purely spiritual. It exists in between. And in many ways, this is the essence of birth itself. Matter and spirit intertwining like a double helix to become life.

At birth, Wild Qi is our natural state.

A seamless connection between the material and the spiritual worlds. But as we age, the material realm becomes dominant in our consciousness. The non-material, intuitive, spiritual realm is gradually buried deeper into the unconscious.

In Chinese medicine, we often say that healing is the process of making the unconscious conscious.

Healing is the process of making the unconscious conscious.

Wild Qi is this emergence. The remembering of who we truly are and how we exist in the world. It is the meeting of spirit and matter in spontaneous vitality and love, the way children live before they are taught to forget.

This is the Qi we are here to tend.
This is the Qi we are here to remember.
This is the birth of Wild Qi.

This Substack Series

This essay is the beginning of an ongoing series exploring Wild Qi as a living philosophy and practice.

In the coming pieces, I will write about community as medicine, why modern healthcare has lost its relational roots, the role of nature and ritual in healing, motherhood and vitality, and what it means to build a clinic and community devoted to life force rather than productivity.

These reflections arise directly from the creation of Wild Qi in Ojai and from my own lived experience as a practitioner, mother, and student of ancient medicine in a modern world.

An Invitation

Wild Qi is an integrative medicine clinic and community space opening in Ojai, California in January 2026. It is a place where Eastern and Western medicine meet, where community is part of treatment, and where the cultivation of life force is honored as essential to health.

We are currently welcoming new members into this growing ecosystem. Membership includes access to sacred coworking spaces, contrast therapy, movement and fitness areas, gardens, tea and herbal apothecary offerings, member gatherings, and preferred access to clinical care.

If this writing resonates with you, I warmly invite you to follow along here on Substack and to learn more about becoming part of Wild Qi.

With warmth,
Nathalie