Chinese Organ Networks: Stomach

Agni, the Vedic god of fire.  Agnih Ayuh - fire is life.

If the twelve organ networks are 'frequencies' that we tune into like radio stations, the Stomach is our culture's Hot 97.  Is Hot 97 still around?  Am I dating myself hopelessly here?  In New York when I was growing up, at least, that particular vein of mainstream Hip-Hop and R & B was everywhere.  And the themes of most rap lyrics ("Ice Cream," anyone?) fit right into the Stomach paradigm: oftentimes they're about chasing sensory pleasures and material success.  About the rush forward to feast the senses.  The Stomach, in short, is about appetites.  

We haven't met an organ network this familiar to our collective unconscious since, well, the Large Intestine.  The resonance between the two of these unsubtle, materialistic organs is no accident, either; together the Stomach and L.I. make up a single hand-to-foot acupuncture channel called the Yang Ming meridian.  Yang Ming means 'bright Yang' or by extension 'bright sun,' and this meridian runs right down the frontmost part of the body.  It's where the sun do shine.  And think of this: the Stomach portion of the channel runs through or around all of the "sense doors"in the head (eyes, nose, mouth, ears), down the front through the nipples, down next to the genitals and the rest of the way down the anterior aspect of the legs.  It's as far forward as it could possibly be, and it takes in all of our sensory/pleasure centers.  It's no leap, then, to say the Stomach is the organ that draws us forward in the world.  This is the frequency of appetites of all kinds.  The Hexagram--number 43, Guai--even looks like a bucket that wants filling.


Nothing wrong with all this rushing and feeding.  We need strong instincts and appetites to keep us on top of the natural selection heap, or once did (now a little cash goes a long way).  But as with any of the organ frequencies, the trend of the Stomach can get out of control.  When the pursuit of sensory pleasures becomes the main purpose in life, the Stomach has usurped the imperial role of the Heart and put the gross (matter) above the subtle (spirit).  The Stomach's totem is the dragon, and it is the dragon's classic pathology to be greedy, hoarding material treasure.  Together with the Pericardium, then, the Stomach is the organ frequency most closely associated with addictions: the drive to get more of something that makes us feel good.  Neurologically, all addictions may be addictions to dopamine, the 'reward' chemical in our brains whose release our drugs (or activities) of choice stimulate.  Dopamine response is, on some level, a Stomach phenomenon.   This all is not to say that we should refrain from pleasures in general, or even that we should never let ourselves rush headlong into them.  But it's worth keeping in mind--and embodying--that the other half of the Stomach's rush is its ability to ruminate.  To chew on something for a long time; maybe even to follow the lead of our four-stomached friends and regurgitate it and chew some more.  After the rush comes the rest-and-digest.  A full belly allows us to move onto other, perhaps nobler pursuits.

Anyone who has ever fasted, even for a day, knows how much time there is all of a sudden when feeding falls off the agenda.  But this radical Stomach-centered therapy has its dangers: many of us are in need of firming up our connection to the material world, not weakening it.  Still, even simply skipping a meal once in a while can serve as a powerful reminder both that nourishment is precious and we are lucky to have such abundant access to it, and that there are other things were pursuing.

Back to the dragon: here we have a creature blessed with great strength, the gift of flight, and the ability to breathe fire.  A fierce fire-breather with a tender underbelly--what better symbol for the Stomach?  Although Chinese medicine does not refer to "digestive fire" the way Ayurveda does, the concept is implicit in the symbol of the dragon.  A healthy stomach means a healthy complement of fire, in the form of hydrochloric acid and digestive enzymes.  Of course we don't want this fire to come out; actually breathing fire is a sign of gastric distress.  But the ability to cook and transform what we take in is critical to digestive function.  The Stomach itself is responsible only for the first part--'cooking' and breaking down what we take in.  (The Spleen, as we shall see, takes over where the Stomach leaves off.)

Ayurveda may evocatively conceptualize the digestive process as one of fire--cooking and transforming--but Chinese thought takes another, equally interesting perspective.  The main digestive organs are classified as belonging mainly to the Earth element.  In the five element or five phase system, there are four directions with Earth in the center.  Earth is the stable point in the middle and so anchors the movement of the other elements.  As herbalist Paul Bergner points out, if we were plants, our roots would be the intestinal villi, and our digestive tract itself the soil out of which we grow.  Our food is our fertilizer, which these villi absorb.  Like Earth, nutrition is the very foundation of health.  Failure to digest well results in a variety of diseases, but one of the first signs of imbalance in the Earth element is what else but a feeling of ungroundedness.  When we lose our connection to Earth, "things fall apart, the center cannot hold," (thank you, Yeats) and our precarious embodied existence loses its foundation.

The theory's all well and good, but it's nice to have something to take home and chew on.  As an herb freak, I can't help but bring up ginger here.  Ginger is a simple but powerful medicine for the digestion: it somehow manages to be soothing and stimulating at the same time.  It calms nausea, relieves cramping, and generally tones the digestive fire, agni.  Of the two forms--fresh and dry--the dry stuff has a greater affinity for the Stomach (the fresh tends to go more towards the exterior of the body and cause sweating).  Perhaps because it can be drying, Chinese herbalism usually combines dry ginger with some licorice.  (Then again, Chinese herbalism combines almost everything with licorice.)  Ayurveda pulls a similar trick and often doles out pungent herbs with something sweet; perhaps the most convenient try-this-at-home approach is to use candied ginger.  Whatever form you use it in, though, ginger combines brings the fire back to the center and leaves the belly happy.



Credit: The bulk of this material was presented in the Chinese Cosmology course at NCNM that was originated by Heiner Fruehauf and taught this summer by Gregory Sax.  Thanks to them and my classmates for all the insights!