By Astrid Bouwman
Prompted by the VNC invitation to the lecture on Qi, “Between Floating Clouds and Flowing Water,” I rushed through the rain to the Jungle in Amsterdam East, where the China Tea House hosted about twenty curious attendees that afternoon.
As someone unfamiliar with Chinese, I had no idea what the word Qi meant, and I was even more surprised when Lianne Baaij, a sinologist, explained in her introduction that she also couldn’t fully define it beyond “Energy.” After hours of research, she realized she had only decoded a fraction of the vast concept. As part of VNC’s mission, Lianne stressed the need for better energy exchange between the Netherlands and China and more balance in Western perceptions of China. The event was organized in collaboration with EuSino, where Tao Wang conducted a traditional tea ceremony.
Mariska Stevens, an anthropologist and versatile expert in Chinese culture, had prepared an hour-long lecture to offer attendees a glimpse into a topic that could easily be studied for a lifetime.
Qi is relatively unknown and difficult to grasp in the Western world. Broadly speaking, Qi can be understood as a geophysical, dynamic force of life—it governs movement and is present everywhere. Initially, Qi seemed like a big question mark to me, but Mariska unraveled the mysterious subject piece by piece.
The challenge starts with language and the constraints of Western grammar, which assumes every language fits into a systematic framework. However, Chinese does not conform to these Western grammatical rules. This difference runs deep into the roots of both cultures. Western thought teaches: “In the beginning was the WORD, and the word came from GOD.” Meanwhile, Chinese philosophy states: “In the beginning was the IMAGE, and the image came from the GODS.” Humans initially develop thinking in images, but in the West, we lose this ability when learning to read and write, replacing pictures with words.
The Western tendency to categorize the world neatly, often in opposing pairs, contrasts sharply with the Chinese perspective, which embraces dynamic movement—the art of floating and flowing. Even in stillness, there is motion.
Examples of Qi’s manifestation include various martial arts, calligraphy, Feng Shui, and even tea. Probably not in the Pickwick tea bag we dunk in lukewarm water for two seconds, but rather in the cup prepared with care and love during a traditional tea ceremony. It is said that each cup of tea is unique because of the person who serves it. With a price difference of ten or even a hundred euros per gram, I can understand the significance. Tao’s exquisite tea ceremony allowed us to experience this firsthand.
Almost hypnotic was the illustration of Qi in the martial art Tai Ji Chuan. The word Tai (太) means Supreme, Ji (极) means Limit, and Chuan (拳) means Fist or Movement. Combined, they represent a method of boundless strength through movement. By performing hand motions in a sequence that echoes the yin-yang form, one redirects the opponent’s energy and uses it to their advantage, leading to victory. Of course, some practice is required.
Another intriguing topic is emptiness, closely tied to the imagery of yin and yang, wisdom from the Yi Ching (The Book of Changes), dating back to 1120 BCE. Emptiness can be divided into yin and yang—two elements of Qi. Each contains the other, making them inseparable rather than opposing forces. Movement is also clearly depicted. It’s difficult to comprehend everything that unfolds within nothingness.
Qi also appears in geographical representations of the world. Whereas the Western world sees four directions on a compass, the Chinese Ba Gua—literally eight trigrams—illustrates the compass in three layers, linking various aspects such as the human body, elements, colors, seasons, and even the cosmos. Everything is interconnected and constantly moving.
Time as Qi In the Western perspective, time is a straight line—from past to present to future—marked by development, evolution, and continuous growth. Even classical Western music follows this pattern: a steady buildup culminating in a crescendo and a dramatic final note. In contrast, time in China is cyclical, like the sun rising and setting daily, seasons following each other year after year, and everything having its optimal time.
Qi is part of the universe, moving through plants, animals, and humans alike, making it central to TCM (Traditional Chinese Medicine). Again, there are striking contrasts with Western healing approaches: diagnosing illness by examining muscles and fibers versus studying Qi flows and openings, measuring a single bodily function—the heartbeat—versus a three-path measurement via meridians. Mariska emphasized that TCM does not guarantee health but complements Western medicine. If surgery is necessary, it cannot be replaced by herbs or incantations. But what can it do?
TCM is particularly useful for prevention, and Qi Gong—exercises using Qi—is simple to apply. Mariska guided the audience through several exercises:
A calming breathing exercise for better sleep.
A technique to shield oneself from external chaos by touching the thumb to the index finger, closing an energy circuit.
The six healing sounds exercise, which links specific sounds to different organs, transporting energy between them.
Following the exercises, attendees chatted with Mariska about her work in the Netherlands and China, her personal experiences with Qi, and how she incorporates it into her life. Condensing Qi into an hour was an ambitious challenge, as there is an endless amount to explore. The reader will understand that this is merely a summary of the discussion, and unfortunately, no single book comprehensively covers Qi. However, countless books explore the various contexts in which Qi manifests—tea, Tai Ji, TCM, Qi Gong, Feng Shui, to name a few. Truly understanding Qi requires dedication and hard work.
For those interested in Yi Ching, Mariska recommends the accessible book Ji Ching: The Book of Changes by Alfred Huang.
Cycling home, still reflecting on this inspiring afternoon, I observed the dark clouds pouring rain, the puddles on the streets, and everything around me through different eyes—Qi was truly everywhere.
