Yin To My Yang Quotes

Integrating and befriending our shadow, our running mate means balancing yin and yang, reframing our understanding of ourselves and the world, and opening new arrays for meaning and purpose. (“Not without my shadow »)

There's eternal opposition between yin and yang. No third party at all, but treason occurs sometimes.

And I was your moon because I shined brighter than any other star in your universe and you were my darkness. Without you I could not see the depth of my light and with you I could set the night a glow. So we needed one another—the dark and the light. Your fear. My courage. Connected, but separated. Different, but the same. A synergy that made no sense, but every bit of sense. We were neither a beginning, nor an end. We were somewhere in between our madness at sunset and the reality we awakened to with each sunrise. We were the ghosts of timing and fate. We were neither fantasy, nor reality--- we were a purpose somewhere in between.

Said the man to the sun, “How I wish you could shine your light on every day of my life!” Said the sun to the man, “But only with the rain and the night could you recognize my light.” —Domaccan poem, translated by Chevalle

He was the yin to my yang, the frick to my frack, the melba toast to my Chex.

On the blank leaf glued to the inner back cover I drew the double curve within the circle, and blacked the yin half of the symbol, then pushed it back to my companion. 'Do you know that sign?' He looked at it a long time with a strange look, but he said, 'No.' 'It's found on Earth, and on Hain-Davenant, and on Chiffewar. It is yin and yang. Light is the left hand of darkness... how did it go? Light, dark. Fear, courage. Cold, warmth. Female, male. It is yourself, Therem. Both and one. A shadow on snow.'

How I spend my time is my right -- but in the end, it still affects those I don't leave time for. There's a yin and yang in life. But people seriously don't ever realize it until it's too late.

I saw darkness in her beauty, and she saw beauty in my darkness. Yin and yang. Black and white. Beauty and scars; fury and forgiveness. She should’ve been my nemesis, but in her, I found something I didn’t know I was looking for.

I’m trying to figure the rules. This isn’t yin and yang, it’s more like yin and yank. The past few days I’ve been going, OK, she doesn’t mix the... romance so well with the single-mindedness of the police work. So it gets me wondering, Is the solution for me to give up our working relationship? Stop my magazine research so we can-?” Nikki grabbed him into a deep kiss. Then she pulled away and said, “Will you shut up?

He’s the yin to my yang. The down to my up. The crazy to my normal. The damaged pieces to all my broken parts.

Isabella and I were different in so many ways, but our differences were what made us work.......“She was the yin to my yang, the day to my night. We were two halves of a whole, and with her, I was finally complete.

Body of yin, soul of yang. Metal and fire unified. The outer and inner; microcosmos in my palm.

But what if I should discover that the least among them all, the poorest of all beggars, the most impudent of all offenders, yea the very fiend himself - that these are within me, and that I myself stand in need of my own kindness, that I myself am the enemy who must be loved - what then? Then, as a rule, the whole truth of Christianity is reversed: there is no more talk of love and long-suffering; we say to the brother within us, "Raca," and condemn and rage against ourselves. We hide him from the world; we deny ever having met this least among the lowly in ourselves, and had it been God himself who drew near to us in this despicable form, we should have denied him a thousand times before a single cock had crowed.

I nurture my feminine energy and honor my yin power.

What should we do?", I asked, and I had a pained feeling I thought was the beginning of love. In those early months we clung to each other with a rather silly desperation, because, in spite of everything my mother or Mrs Jordan could say, there was nothing that really prevented us from seeing each other. With imagined tragedy hovering over us, we became inseparable, two halves creating the whole: yin and yang. I was victim to his hero. I was always in danger and he was always rescuing me. I would fall and he would lift me up. It was exhilarating and draining. The emotional effect of saving and being saved was addicting to both of us. And that, as much as anything we ever did in bed, was how we made love to each other: conjoined where my weaknesses needed protection.

…When you’re in the darkness, know that the light will come. We are light and dark, sun and moon, male and female, yin and yang; life is composed of opposites, in a continuing cycle of change…. When you are in the light, don’t step back into the darkness. Live in that light, and breathe it in fully. I’ve spent so much of my life going over and over the sadness and fear of the past. But we don’t need to go there when we’re not there. When we are in the light, be here, now.

Five years ago, I said vows. And I believe in vows. I meant them, and not just when I said them out loud for an audience to hear but as a motto and a life choice. For as long as we both shall live. I hadn't anticipated the sandy flow of feeling, the yin-yang of love and dread, or the residual buildup of grievances and the slow draining of the benefit of doubt. In good times and in bad. Yes, sure, but in my naivete, I interpreted this as external; we would support each other when the world imposed and intruded. No one tells you that it's the internal that's the real challenge: those moments of decisiveness equal to taking a vow, when you feel the clawing grip of your pormises.

My soul has been severed in two, like Yin and Yang, these parts interlace. Only, both are beasts.

You’re the over-the-top extroverted yin to my ‘leave me alone’ yang.

He was the yin to my yang, the sparkly jumpsuit to my Elvis.

You are the yin to my yang

And Alexis, I suspect that you’re the yin to my yang.” His brow furrows. “I need you.

It's all about yin and yang," she said, stroking my hair in her slow calming way, her voice as sweet and delicate as summer rain. "Balancing your energy. When you're angry or upset, stop for a moment and close your eyes. Breath in slowly. Imagine as you do that the air you take in is bright and golden, as lovely and light as your eyes. Let that brightness fill your belly. Then, when you exhale, picture the darkness that had been within you--whatever it was that upset you -- and visualize it leaving your body as you release your breath.

Panting, I turn to find Zade leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. A mixture of heat and pride swirl in his yin-yang eyes, and I can’t help but feel on top of the fucking world. “Good job, little mouse,” he praises, his voice deep and smooth as butter. “Didn’t want to join in?” He smirks. “My girl had it handled.

Growing up is an unbecoming. My healing has been a peeling away of costume after costume until here I am, still and naked and unashamed before God, stripped down to my real identity. I have unbecome. And now I stand: Warrior. Undressed for battle. Strong and benevolent. Both yin and yang. Complete, not in need of completing. Sent to fight for everything worth having: truth, beauty, kindness, shamelessness, love. To march into pain and love with eyes and heart wide open, to stand in the wreckage and believe that my power, my love, my light, are stronger than the darkness. I know my name now. Love Warrior. I came from Love and I am Love and I will return to Love. Love casts out fear. A woman who has recovered her true identity as a Love Warrior is the most powerful force on earth. All the darkness and shame and pain in the world can’t defeat her.

On the blank leaf glued to the inner back cover I drew the double curve within the circle, and blacked the yin half of the symbol, then pushed it back to my companion. ‘Do you know that sign?’ He looked at it a long time with a strange look, but he said, ‘No.’ ‘It’s found on Earth, and on Hain-Davenant, and on Chiffewar. It is yin and yang. Light is the left hand of darkness…how did it go? Light, dark. Fear, courage. Cold, warmth. Female, male. It is yourself, Therem. Both and one. A shadow on snow.

I believe that everything that happens in life happens for a reason. I also believe that the God that lives inside me - to call it something - is in charge of giving me everything I am going to ever need. All of my joys and pains have made me who I am. They are the yin and yang of my existence, this inseparable duality of life that blends together and makes us the people we are destined to become. I have known love and loss, joy and sadness, friendship and betrayal. I have known a sense of success I never imagined possible; I have had to withstand the attacks and accusations of my detractors; and yes, I have also had failures. Today I know that every step has taught me something and helped me grow and become a better and stronger person - a more complete human being.

A spark of electricity passes from me and into him, flooding out of my crowded heart and into his. I wonder what Morgan’s heart is like compared to mine. Empty isn’t the right word, though it’s the first that comes to mind. Minimalist. Maybe it’s more like yin and yang, like his heart is a dark, cool room after a hot, exhausting day.

My okaasan would say, 'Water is Yin. Fire is Yang. And tea is a perfect expression of both.'" "Both?" Ernest asked politely. "Both sides of life, hot and cold, light and dark, not as opposites, but as complementary parts of each other," Fahn said, pausing, as though deep in thought. "Life is about balancing the good and the bad, the past and the present.

She stared at my reflection in the mirror as I stared at hers. We were complete opposites—Yin and Yang.

She's proving to be the soft and sensual yin to my dirty as fuck yang.

There’s an ancient saying that humans and ghosts belong on separate paths, but in all my years, I’ve never seen two people so truly desperate to be together despite being separated by yin and yang.

And the spaces that he never saw: the ones my parents had labeled private parts when I was still small enough to fit all of my self and worries inside a bathtub, I made up for them by handing over all the private parts of me. There was no secret I did not tell him, there was no moment we did not share. We didn't grow up, we grew in: like ivy wrapping, molding each other into perfect yins and yangs.

I wanted to be his world. I wanted him to look at me and feel like he couldn’t go on without me by his side. I wanted to be his everything. The yin to his yang. The light to his darkness. I wanted to be the one.

Trichloroethane. All my extensive testing has shown this to be the best treatment for a dangerous excess of human knowledge... For one flash, mommy had seen the mountain without thinking of logging and ski resorts and avalanches, managed wildlife, plate tectonic geology, microclimates, rain shadow, or yin-yang locations. She'd seen the mountain without the framework of language. Without the cage of associations. She'd seen it without looking through the lens of everything she knew was true about mountains. What shed seen wasn't even a "mountain." It wasn't a natural resource. It had no name. "that's the big goal. To find a cure for knowledge.

The writer Lee Smith, who once had a New York copy editor query in the margin of her manuscript “Double-wide what?” tells a perfectly marvelous, spot-on story about Eudora Welty when she came to Hollins College, where Smith was a student. Welty read a short story in which one female character presents another with a marble cake. In the back of the audience Smith noted a group of leather-elbowed, goatee-sporting PhD candidates, all of whom were getting pretty excited. One started waving his hand as soon as she stopped reading and said, “Miz Welty, how did you come up with that powerful symbol of the marble cake, with the feminine and masculine, the yin and the yang, the Freudian and the Jungian all mixed together like that?” Smith reported that Welty looked at him from the lectern without saying anything for a while. Finally she replied mildly, “Well, you see, it’s a recipe that’s been in my family for some time.

It is difficult to be an artist, because what you can see needs to be done and what you can achieve are generally two very opposite things. The two are like yin and yang, north and south, positive and negative. What you see is just totally opposite of what the reality can be, and that's unfortunate. But there are things we can do. Writers can either repave--we fill in some of the cracks in the road that are already there--or we start to knock down some of the weeds to make a clearing in the wilderness.

My goals mostly involved maintaining normalcy and stability, but those would never be Barack's. We'd grown better about recognizing this and letting is be. One yin, one yang. I creaved routine and order, and he did not. He could live in the ocean; I needed the boat.

My enemies define themselves (as the dragon told me) on me. As for myself, I could finish them off in a single night […] yet I hold back. I am hardly blind to the absurdity. Form is function. What will we call the Hrothgar-Wrecker when Hrothgar has been wrecked? (p.79)

Let’s talk about ‘Coexist’ bumper stickers for a second. You’ve definitely seen them around. They’re those blue strips with white lettering that assemble a collection of religious icons and mystical symbols (e.g., an Islamic crescent, a Star of David, a Christian cross, a peace sign, a yin-yang) to spell out a simple message of inclusion and tolerance. Perhaps you instinctively roll your eyes at these advertisements of moral correctness. Perhaps you find the sentiment worthwhile, but you’re not a wear-your-politics-on-your-fender type of person. Or perhaps you actually have ‘Coexist’ bumper stickers affixed to both your Prius and your Beamer. Whatever floats your boat, man; far be it from us to cast stones. But we bring up these particular morality minibillboards to illustrate a bothersome dichotomy. If we were to draw a Venn diagram of (a) the people who flaunt their socially responsible “coexist” values for fellow motorists, and (b) the people who believe that, say, an evangelical Christian who owns a local flower shop ought to be sued and shamed for politely declining to provide floral arrangements for a same-sex wedding, the resulting circles would more or less overlap. The coexist message: You people (i.e., conservatives) need to get on board and start coexisting with groups that might make you uncomfortable. It says so right here on my highly enlightened bumper sticker. But don’t you dare ask me to tolerate the ‘intolerance’ of people with whom I disagree. Because that’s different.

Love is both hard and soft. It is the most believable truth and fiction. It is something we fight for and fight with. It is the yin and yang. It is the most contradictory of emotions, making you believe in both the extraordinary existence of heaven and scorches of hell. If you allow it, a saturation of complexities can destroy it and leave you desperately choking for the remnants, clawing for a miniscule flake of ash of what you had . True love is a rare miracle held in the highest veneration. Blessed are those who even come close its illumination. Only those who are selflessly brave can become victorious and claim this exceptional phenomenon, if just for a memory in time.

taunting me while keeping his yin-yang eyes pinned on me. It feels as if an entire galaxy is swirling in my stomach. There’s a black hole, devouring all sense and reason. A sun sending solar flares lashing throughout my body, heating me from the inside out and sinking lower to the apex of my thighs, and a supernova, on the precipice of exploding.

Before, I was brazen, life was a new frontier waiting to be conquered. I had high hopes for this adventure called freedom. Almost the way you feel when you get your first apartment and you tell your parents “so long.” The high comes crashing down as soon as you realize there’s nobody around to scold or reward. With it comes the realization that the people you were so desperately trying to get away from are the ones who gave you definition and character, a daughter, a friend, a sister. All the things that describe who you are. You can’t be a daughter without a parent, you can’t be a friend without friends, you can’t be anything without the other. It’s the yin and yang of life, and I was here without yang. My

A child, obeying his father and mother, goes wherever he is told, east or west, south or north. And the yin and yang - how much more are they to a man than father or mother! Now that they have brought me to the verge of death, if I should refuse to obey them, how perverse I would be! What fault is it of theirs? The Great Clod burdens me with form, labors me with life, eases me in old age, and rests me in death. So if I think well of my life, for the same reason I must think well of my death. When a skilled smith is casting metal, if the metal should leap up and say, 'I insist upon being made into a Moye!' he would surely regard it as very inauspicious metal indeed. Now, having had the audacity to take on human form once, if I should say, 'I don't want to be anything but a man! Nothing but a man!', the Creator would surely regard me as a most inauspicious sort of person. So now I think of heaven and earth as a great furnace, and the Creator as a skilled smith. Where could he send me that would not be all right? I will go off to sleep peacefully, and then with a start I will wake up.

We prefer the term Lonely Ones, Zev said. Because we’re meant to come in pairs. If that wasn’t a loaded statement, I wasn’t sure what was. I’d spent so much time on the outside looking in that the idea of being half of a pair—yin to his yang—made my eyes sting with tears I’d never shed. I had tried so hard not to let loneliness overwhelm me, had never thought that a person like me could be anything else. And then I’d been bitten. And then there was Zev.

There’s a balance here of yin and yang, a dance between aggression and gentleness that creates real strength in any warrior. Attack, and fall back. Thrust and parry. It’s beautiful, really.” Mulan thrust her sword forward and then skipped back. “A balance of yin and yang,” she repeated. “I don't have to turn myself into a man to fight or rule. And I don't have to be a docile woman like my ministers expect me to be. I can be gentle and strong as circumstances requires.

FORTY-TWO The Tao begot one. One begot two. Two begot three. And three begot the ten thousand things. The ten thousand things carry yin and embrace yang. They achieve harmony by combining these forces. People hate to be “orphaned,” “widowed,” or “worthless,” But this is how the wise describe themselves. For one gains by losing And loses by gaining. What others teach, I also teach; that is: “A violent person will die a violent death!” This is the essence of my teaching.

Some men are born warriors. Their spirit and their character are forged for the fight...Others pick up arms because they see no other solution. They wield their swords to protect those they love, spurred by their sense of purpose and idealism but taking no pleasure in it. When the threat is defeated, they return to their homes, shed their uniforms, and return to their lives...Together, they formed the yin and yang of my platoon: the born soldier and the born citizen soldier.

Imagine you're in a rowing boat on a lake. It's summer, early morning. That time when the sun hasn't quite broken free of the landscape and long, projected shadows tigerstripe the light. The rays are warm on your skin as you drift through them, but in the shadows the air is still cold, greyness holding onto undersides and edges wherever it can. A low clinging breeze comes and goes, racing ripples across the water and gently rocking you and your boat as you float in yin-yang slices of morning. Birds are singing. It's a sharp, clear sound, clean without the humming backing track of a day well underway. There's the occasional sound of wind in leaves and the occasional slap-splash of a larger wavelet breaking on the side of your boat, but nothing else. You reach over the side and feel the shock of the water, the steady bob of the lake's movement playing up and down your knuckles in a rhythm of cold. You pull your arm back; you enjoy the after-ache in your fingers. Holding out your hand, you close your eyes and feel the tiny physics of gravity and resistance as the liquid finds routes across your skin, builds itself into droplets of the required weight, then falls, each drop ending with an audible tap. Now, right on that tap - stop. Stop imagining. Here's the real game. Here's what's obvious and wonderful and terrible all at the same time: the lake in my head, the lake I was imagining, has just become the lake in your head. It doesn't matter if you never know me, or never know anything about me. I could be dead, I could have been dead a hundred years before you were even born and still - think about this carefully, think past the obvious sense of it to the huge and amazing miracle hiding inside - the lake in my head has become the lake in your head.

It was a grief and a fear too ancient for me, it was a sorrow bred into the essence of the race. I saluted it, and passed on, for like the early all-pervading nausea, this was part of my living, kneaded into my fibres, a necessity like breathing and associated with it: this cold, this weight, this pulling and dragging and compelling. It was too old a lodestone for any individual to fight away from, or even to accurately know or place. It was there. [...] There it lay, just out of sight, deadly and punishing, for its pulse was that of a cold heaviness, it had to be a counterweight to joy.

As I detailed in my TED Talk, I think we all have two main characters in our heads: a rational decision-maker (the adult in your head) and an instant gratification monkey (the child in your head who doesn’t care about consequences and just wants to maximize the ease and pleasure of the current moment). For me, these two are in a constant battle, and the monkey usually wins. But I’ve found that if I turn life into a yin-yang situation—e.g., “work till 6 today, then no work till tomorrow”—it’s much easier to control the monkey in the work period. Knowing he has something fun to look forward to later makes him much more likely to cooperate. In my old system, the monkey was in a constant state of rebellion against a system that never really gave him any dedicated time.

I have again been asked to explain how one can "become a Daoists..." with all of the sad things happening in our world today, Laozi and Zhuangzi give words of advice, tho not necessarily to become a Daoist priest or priestess... " So many foreigners who want to become “Religious Daoists” 道教的道师 （道士） do not realize that they must not only receive a transmission of a Lu 籙 register which identifies their Daoist school, and learn as well how to sing the ritual melodies, play the flute, stringed instruments, drums, and sacred dance steps, required to be an ordained and functioning Daoist priest or priestess. This process usually takes 10 years or more of daily discipleship and practice, to accomplish. There are 86 schools and genre of Daoist rituals listed in the Baiyun Guan Gazeteer, 白雲觀志, which was edited by Oyanagi Sensei, in Tokyo, 1928, and again in 1934, and re-published by Baiyun Guan in Beijing, available in their book shop to purchase. Some of the schools, such as the Quanzhen Longmen 全真龙门orders, allow their rituals and Lu registers to be learned by a number of worthy disciples or monks; others, such as the Zhengyi, Qingwei, Pole Star, and Shangqing 正一，清微，北极，上请 registers may only be taught in their fullness to one son and/or one disciple, each generation. Each of the schools also have an identifying poem, from 20 or 40 character in length, or in the case of monastic orders (who pass on the registers to many disciples), longer poems up to 100 characters, which identify the generation of transmission from master to disciple. The Daoist who receives a Lu register (給籙元科, pronounced "Ji Lu Yuanke"), must use the character from the poem given to him by his or her master, when composing biao 表 memorials, shuwen 梳文 rescripts, and other documents, sent to the spirits of the 3 realms (heaven, earth, water /underworld). The rituals and documents are ineffective unless the correct characters and talismanic signature are used. The registers are not given to those who simply practice martial artists, Chinese medicine, and especially never shown to scholars. The punishment for revealing them to the unworthy is quite severe, for those who take payment for Lu transmission, or teaching how to perform the Jinlu Jiao and Huanglu Zhai 金籙醮，黃籙齋 科儀 keyi rituals, music, drum, sacred dance steps. Tang dynasty Tangwen 唐文 pronunciation must also be used when addressing the highest Daoist spirits, i.e., the 3 Pure Ones and 5 Emperors 三请五帝. In order to learn the rituals and receive a Lu transmission, it requires at least 10 years of daily practice with a master, by taking part in the Jiao and Zhai rituals, as an acolyte, cantor, or procession leader. Note that a proper use of Daoist ritual also includes learning Inner Alchemy, ie inner contemplative Daoist meditation, the visualization of spirits, where to implant them in the body, and how to summon them forth during ritual. The woman Daoist master Wei Huacun’s Huangting Neijing, 黃庭內經 to learn the esoteric names of the internalized Daoist spirits. Readers must be warned never to go to Longhu Shan, where a huge sum is charged to foreigners ($5000 to $9000) to receive a falsified document, called a "license" to be a Daoist! The first steps to true Daoist practice, Daoist Master Zhuang insisted to his disciples, is to read and follow the Laozi Daode Jing and the Zhuangzi Neipian, on a daily basis. Laozi Ch 66, "the ocean is the greatest of all creatures because it is the lowest", and Ch 67, "my 3 most precious things: compassion for all, frugal living for myself, respect all others and never put anyone down" are the basis for all Daoist practice. The words of Zhuangzi, Ch 7, are also deeply meaningful: "Yin and Yang were 2 little children who loved to play inside Hundun (ie Taiji, gestating Dao). They felt sorry because Hundun did not have eyes, or eats, or other senses. So everyday they drilled one hole, ie 2 eyes, 2 ears, 2 nostrils, one mouth; and on the 7th day, Hundun died.

We continued our coitus reservatus as I mounted my lover in the lotus position. We closed our eyes to relish our unhurried gyrations, stirring an ardent tranquillity within ourselves that defied space and time. We lost track of time in this meditative equilibrium. All we experienced was the intimate connection our souls shared in our consummate union. Our spirits intertwined into a blissful state which the Hindus call Nirvana, the union with Brahman, the divine ground of existence, and the experience of seraphic egolessness. We were at once the Alpha and the Omega, the Yin and the Yang, the Front and the Back, the Positive and the Negative. “When you make the two into one, and when you make the inner as the outer, and the upper as the lower, and when you make male (masculine) and female (feminine) into a single entity, so that the male shall not be male, and the female shall not be female… then you will enter [the kingdom],” I remembered Jabril quoting from the gnostic Apostle Thomas.

Baladar shook his head. “They were very common back in my day, when wolves and bears inter-mated. You see, the combination is only possible with the opposite race. It’s how things were meant to be. Yin and Yang. Balance. The reason bears have male heirs and wolves have females. The leaders have always been meant to be together.

MY GOALS MOSTLY involved maintaining normalcy and stability, but those would never be Barack’s. We’d grown better about recognizing this and letting it be. One yin, one yang. I craved routine and order, and he did not. He could live in the ocean; I needed the boat. When he was present at home, he was at least impressively present, playing on the floor with the girls, reading Harry Potter out loud with Malia at night, laughing at my jokes and hugging me, reminding us of his love and steadiness before vanishing again for another half a week or more.

In our little Lane I brick my Shadow and suez the Time.

She’s the yin to my yang.  The peanut butter to my jelly.

This woman has the power to rile me up while building me up. She flips my world but makes me stable. The yin to my yang—my balance in all things.

When you find yourself in a situation where you cannot move freely, you try to bury your anger, emptiness, frustration, inadequacy, helplessness, fear, guilt, loneliness, stress, and anxiety. You may think that by burying these emotions, you are putting an end to them, but in reality, you are sending them to another realm. You are giving them to the darkness, the yin, the dark world.Hades takes care of them and teaches them how to fight in the unconscious world. They learn to live below the conscious surface, like rabbits, skunks, mice, woodchucks, arctic ground squirrels, chipmunks, weasels, river otters, raccoons, muskrats, mink, beavers, opossums, moles, rats, and groundhogs. However, after a while, they try to resurface and torment you again.In my view, all archetypes reside in the unconscious, but some are empowered by darkness (yin), others by youth (yang), and some by both. If balance is lost, they turn against each other. That’s what happened to me. I buried my anger, fear, stress, and anxiety, but they returned to my conscious mind. They seem blind, unable to see or understand me.I don’t know how to care for them and make them conscious. They are so powerful, and I am exhausted. I don’t know what to do, but I have decided to make a deal with them. My arms have always been open for everyone except myself. Now, my caregiver archetype is trying to make a deal to heal my fragmented parts and bring them together. #Arash_Ghadir #ArashGhadir

Yin to my yang, the opposite nature of our personalities kept us perfect in balance.

I saw darkness in her beauty, and she saw beauty in my darkness. Yin and yang. Black and white. Beauty and scars; fury and forgiveness.

Tony Soprano's Bada Bing of Conscience {Couplet} While I waited for the church bells to ring, my conscience chimed in with a pang, bada bing! The yin and yang of what was right or wrong, became clear as a bell as I played along.

There was no reason for us to be friends; we liked different music, different films and even different boys, but when we get together everything just clicks. She keeps me sane. She was, and still is, the yin to my yang. Remembering

Desiring to match my lover, I designed a ‘Twin’ costume that was based on a similar idea to Gabrielli’s ‘Happy and Sad’ theme; ‘Twins’ was an over-sized costume which could easily accommodate two people when worn. It was black in front and white at the back. The sides were ombre shades of grey, graduating from black to white and vice versa. It is true that all colors merged to become black or white; ‘Twins’ was therefore representational of all beings connected as one and one as all. It was a Yin and Yang concept I didn’t realize I had created at the time. Forty years had passed and I now realize this process was a part of an unconscious spiritual evolution: morphing from adolescent to adulthood.

A Warrior, a Healer, and Tao The leader can act as a warrior or as a healer. As a warrior, the leader acts with power and decision. That is the Yang or masculine aspect of leadership. Most of the time, however, the leader acts as a healer and is in an open, receptive, and nourishing state. That is the feminine or Yin aspect of leadership. This mixture of doing and being, of warrior and healer, is both productive and potent. There is a third aspect of leadership: Tao. Periodically, the leader withdraws from the group and returns to silence, returns to God. Being, doing, being… then, Tao. I withdraw in order to empty myself of what has happened, to replenish my spirit. A brilliant warrior does not make every possible brilliant intervention. A knowing healer takes time to nourish self as well as others. Such simplicity and economy is a valuable lesson. It deeply affects the group. The leader who knows when to listen, when to act, and when to withdraw can work effectively with nearly anyone, even with other professionals, group leaders, or therapists, perhaps the most difficult and sophisticated group members. Because the leader is clear, the work is delicate and does not violate anybody’s sensibilities.

from my experience, men’s chakras tend to have a greater clockwise than counterclockwise spin, and women have a greater counterclockwise than clockwise spin. The clockwise direction may symbolize “yang” and counterclockwise may symbolize “yin”. Please note that both yin and yang are present in all things.

he's the yin to my yang" -Emma Wise

In Laozi’s original, this verse begins: From one comes two, and this makes three, and thus ten thousand come to be. What do these numbers refer to? How should one interpret them? I base my interpretation on a line from the Great Commentary on the Yijing and another from Richard Wilhelm’s commentary to his 1910 translation of the Dao De Jing. One yin, one yang: this is Dao. (Great Commentary on the Yijing) By the coming forth of the One the Two is created; by the two joining the One the Three comes about. (Richard Wilhelm, p 73) These are the three terms: Dao, yin and yang. One is Dao, the single presence. Two are yin and yang, the complementary aspects of Dao. Three is the sum, the whole. Laozi goes on to locate yin and yang in our direct experience. Just what is the Dao? It is yin on my shoulders And yang in my arms. The three terms Dao, yin and yang are not metaphysical terms. They are not mere words or names. They are concrete, physical, and visible. You can literally point to them with a finger. To look in at the yin, point your finger to your own faceless awareness. To look out at the yang, point your finger to the world of appearances directly in front of you. See that nothing separates this yin and yang. They are two views of your presence, you life in the moment, two views of Dao. Can you see both ways and harmonize and balance the two views? It’s the Way to wholeness. 43.

She made her way to her favorite area of the daycare. The smaller of the two playrooms' aesthetic was a nod to her Frenchie's white-and-black piebald coat, with splashes of purple to add a royal flare. Portraits of Duchess hung on the walls in gilded frames. Was it a bit over the top? Absolutely. But when it came to her baby there was no top. Seconds after she entered the room, Ashanti was bombarded by a cadre of feisty canines with Napoleon complexes. This is what she missed the most. Having to devote so much time to baking, she didn't get to play with the dogs nearly as much as she wanted to. "Hey, Lulu and Sparkle," she greeted the Pomeranians, giving each dog one of the dime-sized treats from her pocket. "And how is my favorite Chihuahua," she called to Bingo, who had been coming to the daycare since the first week it opened. She followed the treats with quick head rubs for each dog, then went in search of Duchess. "Where's my dog?" Ashanti asked Leslie, who was running the Parkers' Cavalier King Charles through the agility maze. Leslie gestured to cushioned mats in the corner. Ashanti walked over and found Duchess hugged up next to Puddin'. The two lay in a yin-yang pattern, with Duchess's head nestled against Puddin's chest, and her squat legs arcing around the puffy topknot atop the poodle's head. "Kara was right. You two really do need a room." At the sound of her voice, Duchess's stubby tail started wagging like a windshield wiper gone haywire, but she still didn't move away from Puddin'. "If you don't get over here," Ashanti said. She reached down and lifted Duchess into her arms. "Don't forget who keeps you in tiaras and rawhide," she said, nuzzling the dog's flat nose with her own.

Despite all my awards, accomplishments, and accolades, I’d felt like I was missing something until I met her. It wasn’t until she blazed into my life that I realized what that missing piece was. Balance. She was the yin to my yang, the day to my night. We were two halves of a whole, and with her, I was finally complete.

You are the sun to my moon, the yin to my yang, the white to my black, the good to my bad.

She’s my match. The yang to my yin. The light to my darkness.

Still buried deep inside me, he walks with purpose to God knows where. While kissing me. And all I can think about is that maybe he’s the yin to my yang.

In the beginning of all things, there is oneness, and then the oneness divides into two forces—the female force of yin and the male force of yang. Tai chi is located in the nanosecond of the division of yin and yang. Chuan means “fisted hand.” So tai chi chuan means “supreme ultimate fisted hand.” (The “chuan” is now dropped because the “fist” portion of the term is rarely the focus.) WHAT IS TAI CHI?

Okay, when I play at my best, I’m not thinking. I’m in the ‘zone.’ Music is flowing through me, but this flow is broken sometimes when I make a mistake. My mistakes are often caused by frustration, and making mistakes often causes me to become frustrated. Many times, poor technique is at the root of the problem. Poor technique robs me of free expression. It’s like I hear what I wanna play, but my technique doesn’t allow it to come out. “Now,” I continued, “in order for me to play freely, I need good technique, but I don’t wanna be thinking about my technique while I’m playing any more than I wanna be thinking about my mouth when I’m talking. So, when I practice, I use ‘concentration’ to learn what the technique is. Then I use ‘not concentrating’ to get completely comfortable using the technique. Combining the two concentration methods allows me to get a complete grasp of the technique.” I surprised myself. Somehow, I was finally getting it. I didn’t know where the information was coming from, but I was open to it and it was flowing through me. I wasn’t ready to stop. Feeling the energy, I kept talking. “If ‘not concentrating’ is where I want to end up, I need to add it to my practice routine. Combining ‘concentrating’ with ‘not concentrating’ is necessary to complete the circle. This, like you said, is yin and yang. Both parts are needed to complete the whole. We know how to concentrate and we know how to practice concentrating, but do we know how to practice ‘not concentrating’? I need to figure that out for the circle to be complete.” “What can you use to practice ‘not concentrating’?” Michael asked as he removed the still smoldering hat from my head. “Television,” I replied. That was an easy one for me. “Do you think that television can be of any assistance?” “Of course, it can,” I responded. “If I practice my techniques while watching a television show it might allow another part of my brain to be activated. This would simulate ‘not concentrating’ while playing music.

Cy smiles a lot, and I don’t. He’s the Yin to my Yang; the Ernie to my Bert, the Patch Kids to my Sour.

We advertise good friendships as part of the Complete Teenage Experience, because good friendships make for great stories. Content creators romanticize adolescent friendships the same way Hallmark movies treat love: there is a lid for every pot, a yin for every yang, and a savior for every screwup. Turn on any Netflix original movie about teenagers or read any great YA book, and you will see that the perfect sidekick (funny! supportive! quirky! endlessly loyal!) is a fixture in each teen’s life. In reality, middle school friendships play out less like Netflix originals, and more like those toy commercials that came on during Saturday morning cartoons when we were kids. As an only child, I remember yearning to have the same fun those kids were having, begging my parents for the Barbie Jeep or Hot Wheels Track until they gave in. But soon after ripping the toy from its packaging, I came to the stark realization that it was nothing like advertised. Those kids were only pretending to have fun, the set designers made the toys seem infinitely cooler than they actually were, and more often than not, we didn’t even have the right-sized batteries. What a colossal disappointment! Especially when those kids on TV looked like they were having the time of their lives.

might catch on that we’re not the yin-and-yang lovebirds I’ve been pretending we are in my Instagram stories.

Observer: “In our being, where the tangible meets the intangible, there lies a duality as ancient as time itself - the ego and the essence. These twin forces, ever-present and perpetually intertwined, are the sun and moon of our inner universe, each holding sway over the landscape of our spirit in a dance as old as the stars.” Sun: “I am the essence, the unwavering light within. A constant, unfiltered sun, burning at the core of our being. Untouched by the transient world, I am the eternal truth in your heart, the perpetual whisper of your authentic self.” Moon: “And I, the ego, mirror the silver luminescence of experience. Shaped by the ebb and flow of life’s tides, I reflect the lessons, beliefs, and identities formed through your journey. In me, the tales of your identity are woven through societal norms and cultural echoes, ever-evolving and dynamic.” Sun: “Unlike you, who waxes and wanes, I am a perpetual beacon. I am solid, the silent guide amidst the storms of life, illuminating the path to enlightenment. I am the light that shines beyond all darkness, the eternal truth within.” Moon: “True, I may dance in shadows, casting illusions, but through my reflective glow, I bring lessons, growth, and an understanding of our place in the material world. My phases are a reminder of life’s impermanence and the transformative power of introspection and self-inquiry.” Sun: “It is in recognizing our dual nature that the process of transformation begins. From the unexamined to the enlightened existence, I offer wisdom, authenticity, and a connection to the eternal. Understanding the self is the key to liberation.” Moon: “Together, we form the yin and yang of existence. My reflective lessons and your radiant wisdom define the human experience. In understanding our dance, one finds the rhythm of their soul, a balance between action and introspection, between the material world and the spiritual journey.” Sun: “The journey of self is thus a celestial voyage between us. Embracing both my luminescence and your reflection leads to harmony, living attuned to the eternal rhythm of light and shadow.

i can see it on my arm in invisible ink like a tattoo The yin to my yang the toughness to my unending softness

there is no context in which my ego, if not fastidiously monitored, won’t run amok. It is extremely difficult to put aside a lifetime’s conditioning. The only way I can stay drug free is one day at a time, with vigilance, humility, and support. My tendency is still, after eleven years, to drift towards oblivion. My appetite for attention too can only be positively directed with great care. Look out your window, turn on your TV, see which values are being promoted, which aspects of humanity are being celebrated. The alarm bells of fear and desire are everywhere; these powerful primal tools, designed to aid survival in a world unrecognizable to modern civilized humans, are relentlessly jangled. A facet of our unevolved nature—comparable to that which still craves sugar and fat, a relic from the days when it was scarce—is being pricked and jabbed and buzzed every time we see a billboard bikini or a Coca-Cola floozy. Our saber-toothed terrors and mammoth anxieties are being dragged up and strung out by shrill transmissions about immigrants, junkies, pit bulls, and cancer. Once I sat in that kundalini class, in white robes, cross-legged, with pan-piped serenity caressing the congregation as we meditated as one, and all I was really thinking about was if I should buy a gun. I was in America after all and you are allowed a gun. Have you ever held a Glock 38? It feels so cool in your hand. Even the word makes you feel tough. “Glock.” Tupac had one; Eminem loves them—I want one. Never mind all this hippie-dippie, yin–yang, Ramadan, green-juice bullshit; I want a gat, like Tupac. Of course, I think things like that; the messages that are broadcast on that frequency move fast and stick hard. Look at the state of the world. I didn’t buy one, though; my mum had to remind me that I’m a peace-loving lad and that if I had a gun in the house, the person most at risk would be me. The kundalini techniques worked: They advanced my mind, they tuned me in. How much more powerful these techniques would be if supported by a culture of spiritual evolution, not one of self-fortification.

There are no doubts in my mind about this. Me and Seb, we’re meant to be. We’re written in the stars. Destiny or whatever. He is the yin to my yang, the other half of my soul. And I never, ever want to spend a day on this Earth where I don’t have him by my side.

fear good things happening because I believe something bad is sure to follow. Yin and yang, as comedy can’t exist without tragedy. In my universe, pleasure and pain are opposite sides of the pendulum.

My Love, you are the Yin to the Yang of my life. ~Zaid Asha~

My love, you are the Yin to the Yang of my life.

Chimes at the Edge of Hearing (2011) Chimes in the heavens sound so fine, Whither does it go; how it chimes the time. Tumultuous river of colored tinselly sounds, Their music brasses forth, it has no bounds. Tinkle clackle tinke koo, How infinite the melody with notes so few. Chimes clanging silent at the edge of hearing, Does it not sound so jingly and endearing? Klankle ping chinkle cree, Quite the sound of discordant harmony. Pakkle kikkle ringly kat, Chimes echo out; they drift cackling back. A cacophony of clingles, pims and tinkle-ets, Chimes shinkle loud at the crescendo of their octets. Pakickle tamtankle jjingling kites, They fly into darkness on the clatter of midnight. Chimes symphonic at the coming black storm, Upon the shrieks their shimmering rrrings are born. Sounds and silences; the glistening chimes adorn, Haunting images of sounds so distant and forlorned. Cymbal they together; the sound of crackly glass, They remind of the times and rattles of the past. Metals on metals trinklelink clapping down the time, Their clittering rhythms broke, raw and refined. Concerto of jangles jinkles and dings, See their sound, how pleasant they dream. Off they go, winds klickle on smooth breeze, And chinkle and pinkle through my melodic tree. dlaurent

I loved the difference in our height, build, and coloring. He was dark where I was light, the yin to my yang, the night to my day, and the sky to my sun---opposites, but equal and you couldn't have one without the other. He was mine, I was his, and we were us.

The Chinese conceived the entire universe as activated by two principles, the Yang and the Yin, the positive and the negative. And they considered that nothing that exists, either animate or so-called inanimate, does so except by the ceaseless interplay of these two forces. Yang and Yin, Matter and Energy, Heaven and Earth are conceived of as essentially One, or as two coexistent poles of one indivisible whole. It is a philosophy of the essential unity of the universe and eternal cycles, of the leveling of all differences, the relativity of standards, and the return of all to the divine intelligence, the source of all things.

So I had our dream house, and I still had a lot of money. I decided to celebrate my new acquisition with the yin/yang of drug use—a nice pile of heroin and cocaine. Once again, I started speedballing like a maniac. There was no furniture in the house, and I didn’t even know how to get the electricity turned on in my name, so I went out and bought five watermelons and dozens of candles. I cut the watermelons in half the long way, and set them all over the floor of the house and shoved candles into their cores. So now the entire house was a sea of halved watermelons and candlelight. I inaugurated the bathroom by shooting up a ton of coke and dope.

She was the yin to my yang. My right-hand man and my turn up partner.

Qi is the material basis and life-sustaining force of all existence within the body—” “A parrot can say words,” Grandmother interrupts, still irritated, it seems, by Grandfather’s views on midwives, “but does it understand their deeper meaning?” I try harder. “Everything in the universe has qi. Mountains, stars, animals, people, emotions—” “I like to say qi is the pulsation of the cosmos,” Grandmother comments, “while the body is a reflection of the cosmos—all governed by yin and yang.” Hearing Grandmother’s hint, information I’ve memorized since I came here rushes from my mouth. “Yin and yang are dark and light, down and up, inner and outer, old and young, water and fire, Earth and Heaven.” Grandfather encourages me to continue. “Yin is—” “The source of death,” I finish for him. “Yang is—” “The root of life. Yin is shadowy and female, while yang is positive and male.

She’s not prey to my beast, she’s its match. The yin to his yang. The crazy to his insanity.

finally comes to me why Grandmother and Midwife Shi thought I would be a good match for Meiling. If I had physical and emotional flaws, which Meiling’s caring heart could rescue me from time and again, then she had the weakness of feeling she was not worthy of the blessings of the world, which I could help through my unconscious acceptance of the gifts and privileges I was born into. In our friendship—with all its twists and moments of tumult—was the yin and yang of life. The