Summer brings a certain buzz, a feeling of expansion that can easily tip into overwhelm. I felt it, looking at my list of projects: too many tabs open, both on my screen and in my mind. It became clear that this season required a reset. The goal: do less, but do it deeper. This transition, this intentional paring back, has been guided by a simple, yet profound, principle from Qigong practice: the true aim is not to add more practices, but to reduce.
I was recently in a Qigong seminar with Master Zhang Mingliang, the 14th generation lineage holder from Mount Emei in Sichuan Province, China, the highest of the Four Sacred Buddhist Mountains of China. When asked what to do about the buzzing Qi sensations in one's body, his answer was simple.
"Think of a river," he said. "When the water flows calmly, it is silent. You only hear it when it encounters rocks." The noise, he explained, is a sign of obstruction. The goal isn't to chase the sensation, but to remove the obstacles and return to a state of quiet flow. This applies as much to our internal energy as it does to our daily lives. My long project list, my cluttered kitchen, my scattered attention—these were rocks in my river. The answer isn't to manage the chaos better, but to remove stones and cultivate the tranquility that allows unimpeded energy to flow.
The core of this reset has been about tidying up, both externally and internally. It is a practice of unifying the visible, tangible body and the invisible, volatile spirit. In Qigong, a primary goal is to anchor the wandering mind in the home of the body. When they are separate, we experience a kind of fragmentation. By methodically organizing my physical space—terminating projects, changing what doesn’t work, donating clothes, sorting my books, installing shelves, clearing out what no longer sparks joy—I am creating a stable, coherent home for my spirit to settle into.
This process of simplification mirrors the very essence of Qigong theory. Master Zhang teaches that there are not 40,000 complex forms to master, but a few essential principles of movement to understand. All of Qi, the substance of the universe, moves in four primary ways: up, down, open, and close. These are the seasons of our energy. My slowing down in the midst of summer's ecstatic burst is a conscious engagement with these movements. It is an act of "closing" and "collecting inward" to protect and concentrate my energy.
This is a transition, I'm preparing for autumn. By letting go of extraneous commitments, I am creating the space needed to truly open to the projects that matter, to descend into a state of rest, and to allow new things to rise in their own time.
A complete Qigong session has three parts: a warm-up, the central practice, and a closing. We often neglect the closing, but it's as crucial as the beginning. It is the moment we store the Qi we've cultivated and ensure a smooth transition back to our day. This life-edit feels like that closing sequence. It is a conscious act of storing my energy, of fluidifying stagnations, and preparing the ground for what comes next.
I've been so obsessed with doing more. Have I written about this before? What these few weeks have been showing me is that it's futile, useless, unnecessary. I can just.... enjoy, and focus on the basics.
When my friend Nick read my draft, he recalled the phrase "shallow as a puddle but wide as an ocean" to describe that sense of feeling scattered. He said to me: "You're going wide as a puddle and deep as an ocean."
I'm not sure, but I hope that to be true. It makes me think of a feeling I've been grappling with for many years. There's a pang in my heart, a sharp pain that’s as narrow as a razor blade, and infinitely deep. I haven't found the bottom of this sensation. It lives in my chest, it is my teacher. I wonder some days whether it is in fact the wound of collective suffering.
I am choosing to treat my body and life like a precious instrument, to tune it with care, and to play a clear, resonant score. The music that results is a life lived with less noise and more flow, a life that is not just full, but fulfilled.
The goal of Qigong is to harmonize with the cosmos and succeed in daily life. It’s not an escape, but a way of experiencing the governing principles of life more directly. By choosing to give up on some projects, I am not giving up on ambition; I am focusing it.