On February 1st, 2022, the Lunar New Year will invoke a new animal and element, bringing us the Yang Water Tiger. Water naturally moves to the lowest position, flowing down into the deepest darkness of the abyss. Only water can flow with ease into the void, the unknown and the uncharted. The emotion associated with water is fear and the transformative principle is trust. Working with the water element means developing a friendship with fear, so that you can trust your life to flow into the unknown territories of your destiny.
The Yijing (I Ching) uses the metaphor of a river to articulate the many types of change one experiences in their lifetime. In this Yang Water year, we are asked to cross a big river. If we are brave enough to herald this call, crossing this river will change us forever, landing us on foreign shores, in the borderlands of existence, where even our understanding of home is washed away so we can never again return to the comfort of what was.
The very first river is the birth canal. We are all born crying, reaching out in hunger and desire. Birthing is painful and dangerous. It is the result of unbelievable exertion and labor, leaving us completely raw and in awe. The Tiger represents the life chapter of birth: the aggression required to give birth and to be delivered. Action, force, tenacity - this yang energy is what is commonly associated with the masculine principle. From this delineation, if you take anyone who has gone through the pains of childbirth as an example, you’ll know that masculinity is by no means reserved for the male.
According to Chinese Astrology, the Tiger is an animal of the east, of spring, and the rising sun. Water is the element of the north, of winter, and flowing downwards. We are being asked this year to make use of active, rising energy by drawing it downwards, making it deep. Emergence and manifestation will not come easy, requiring detours into the outskirts of fear, courage and trust. This year, we are being called to walk the path of the Warrior. The Water Tiger asks of all of us, regardless of gender identity - What is masculinity as a practice?
The Daoist view of the universe is a process cosmology, meaning that the universe is in a never ending, self-sustaining and co-creating entrainment of opposites. Seeing reality from a temporal view, there are no objects, only events. And in the fullness of time, any quality gives way to its opposite. The universe is an endless dance between rising and falling, forming and dissolving, emerging and collapsing. This circular path is not in the shape of a circle so much as a spiral: it is always returning yet always new.
From the Daoist perspective, the most fertile human is the divine hermaphrodite, an androgyne who has access to the full range of gender traits. Yin and yang, masculine and feminine belong to all of us, and this comprehensiveness needs to be practiced to live the full human experience, and the most fertile life.
The masculine that denies the feminine has a diminished capacity to experience emotion, controls through rigidity and fixed ideas, pursues ambition and competition at the cost of others, and lacks receptivity to form genuine relationships. The feminine that denies the masculine controls through manipulation and passivity, uses emotions to illicit and exploit, struggles with discernment and detachment, and allows themselves to appear incompetent and victimized to gain power.
Much has been spoken regarding toxic masculinity, but very little has been envisioned regarding masculinity itself. If the future is female, where does that leave the masculine among us and within us? We are already living in a widowed culture that is suffering from father and grandfather hunger. We can do better than to imagine a widowed future that furthers our deprivation. If according to the Daoist view, opposites are not binaries but define and create each other in an interdependent relationship, then the very livelihood of the feminine is predicated on the support of a healthy and robust masculine. The commitment and dedication to this can be called the Warrior’s path, and is available to us all.
We can apply this to ecology, where nature achieves balance through a diversity of relationships, such as that of predator and prey. Human beings are predators and our survival and participation in the ecosystem is based on this fact. Predation itself is not problematic, but the denial that we are predators is. The blind outsourcing of our violence results in detachment from the web of relationships that hunter and hunted are inevitably responsible to. When we separate ourselves from what we eat and how we consume, we deny the relationships that provide for and make our living possible.
By refusing to acknowledge the dying that is needed for our survival, we are detached from the natural limits of consumption. The dying that supports our living is hidden behind locked doors of factory farming, processing plants, and extractive industries of energy and mineral resources. Our death phobia drives our predation into toxic cannibalism, an unchecked and uninhibited entitlement to life. Nature’s apex predator, the Tiger, does not over-consume or dominate life. The Tiger can help reconnect us to our larger role within the ecosystem, and teach us much needed lessons on how to be a good predator.
For six months during the start of the pandemic, I lived with my partner and our two cats (who we lovingly called our little tigers) on raw land in the Sierra Mountains. We arrived in triple degree weather in the summer and left in the snow and frost of winter. Living with our miniature predators and observing them in the wild taught me many lessons about the art of predation.
Through endless games of ambush and chase, they showed me that aggression and assertiveness are effective only through proper timing. This timing cannot be summoned by will alone, but through patient focus and persistence until the outer circumstances support you. Through their play, I learned about spontaneity and improvisation, that hunting is a game involving both endlessly inventive strategies and instantaneous adaptation to the moment.
They also taught me that hunters are followers. To be a good hunter means you open your senses to nature’s signs, you learn to read her subtle hints and gestures. Being a good hunter requires becoming available to the muse: you let yourself be led.
On a cloudless November night, the air crisp with the clarity that comes with cold and stars, we heard the howling of a family of coyotes hunting all night. The next day we never saw our cats again. We lost them to nature’s cruel and beautiful devouring.
In this heartbreaking way, predation taught me about communal existence - not just community made of easy alliances - but what it means to live and die within the web of all our relations. It taught me that the world does not exist to fulfill your needs. The mass spiritual debt of western culture is a result of living in a dead world, a world seen as a corpse waiting to be consumed that has no needs of its own, and as a result no need of you. When we live only to fulfill our own needs, our life has no intrinsic value. But a world that is alive and has its own needs, needs you to fulfill them. Participating in a world that needs us to give - in both our living and our dying - is what imbues our lives with value and purpose.
The Warrior cultivates the courage necessary to face death and its consequences, understanding that death is what provides for our aliveness. The Warrior must grapple with the expansive sense of integrity that comes with living in an alive world. The Warrior knows that living in integrity is not about being whole or activating one’s potential. Integrity is a process of becoming whole through one’s relationships. The self in a world that is alive, co-creating, in constant process, is always communal. Everything shares in creativity, so everything has a piece of the story.
Being effective as a Warrior means you recognize the true value of life, of all living things, so you don’t misuse them. To be truly proficient as a Warrior means you produce no waste, leaving no loose ends. Nature needs no outside source to dispose of leftovers. All scraps go into transformation, becoming new material. What the coyotes don’t devour the condors will, and eventually the worms and microorganisms, food needed for the grasses and the trees. It is this devouring that entwines our life and death with our togetherness, teaching us that our existence both demands and is defined by our participation in intricate relations. The Warrior understands that our relationships make our lives significant.
Like most of the world, I experienced many types of dying in the last several years. Time has increasingly unraveled from its linearity, as the departed continue to give, bringing lessons from their dying. One thing I’ve learned is that grieving cannot be extricated from praising: they are two sides of the same coin. The Warrior lesson that perhaps requires the most courage is walking the path of cheerfulness.
When I speak of cheerfulness, I am not referring to optimism or hope. Hope is the yearning for what is not yet, a bright expectation with hidden shackles. Beneath the assumptions that come with hope is a dissatisfaction with now, a refusal to embrace reality. It rejects the ordinary for the extraordinary, the natural for the supernatural. Total fearlessness is required to face what is, to not escape into the hope of what might be. Moreover, it requires the cultivation of a Warrior to become aware of the beauty and magic of the ordinary. The Warrior does not need the supernatural because nature is full of miracles.
Cheerfulness is embracing fully one’s life right now. It requires a habit of awareness that appreciates the mundane. The Warrior cultivates these habits with the discipline required to be enchanted by routine. The Warrior knows that the profound is discovered through the ordinary. It requires a cultivated disposition to become aware of everyday magic. In an alive world full of the creative process of change and exchange, each form giving way to another is a ceaseless adventure.
In order to be sustained this year, you will need the training of a Warrior. You will need the Warrior’s heart to dance the dance of opposites. The seemingly disparate forces disguised as conflict and undoing this year are in fact the tensions of creativity. The only way to know that your rising is not being thwarted by falling is to be in relationship. The Water Tiger will ask (if not demand) of you to reflect on your relations and how you are needed by the world. Perhaps you will find your answer near a rushing river or under a starry sky. Meditate on the Tiger’s mantra this year: “Give up hope. All that you need is here.”
Mantras for each animal sign to align with the Warrior’s Path:
Winter Animals
Rat: “Trust is more important than truth.”
Pig: “Not knowing is most intimate.”
Ox: “In the fullness of time, everything yields to its opposite.”
Spring Animals
Tiger: “Give up hope. All that you need is here.”
Rabbit: “Making a decision requires parting with potential.”
Dragon: “Be ordinary and insignificant. Drop identity and be reborn.”
Summer Animals
Horse: “An empty heart is fully available.”
Snake: “I hide my light and nurture it in darkness.”
Sheep: “Happiness is being in love with reality.”
Autumn Animals
Monkey: “The obstacle is the way.”
Rooster: “Life and death form a single condition. What is good in my life is good in my death also.”
Dog: “Limitations make life meaningful.”