There is a concept in ancient Chinese cosmology – and therefore in Chinese medicine, as the two are closely interrelated – called Ming, which roughly translates as destiny.

Notably, this doesn't quite align with our Western idea of destiny, which was has more to do with what happens to us in life overall, or in certain cases, whether or not we are meant to kill an evil wizard.

Ming has more to do with what we contribute, what role we are meant to play in the huge interrelated Oneness that is our world. You might even call it a life's purpose or spiritual journey, which is how famed acupuncturist and author Lonny Jarrett describes it in his book Nourishing Destiny.

In this interpretation, living in accordance with your Ming is crucial for genuine health and wellness, which has less to do with the absence of disease than it does living in harmony with the universe. It is also an empowering principle around which to organize your life. In each moment we decide whether to move toward our Ming or away from it; if we miss one moment, no worries, we can always recalibrate in the next. But the missed and seized moments add up over a lifetime. Are you living life to the fullest, or are you missing your moments to shine?

“Ming has more to do with what we contribute, what role we are meant to play in the huge interrelated Oneness that is our world. ”

I think about this a lot.

First, because it mirrors the framework I ask my clients to consider when it comes to alleviating their symptoms. Symptoms are generally there for a reason. Your body is wise. What is it trying to alert your mind to? What are you doing in each moment to contribute to or alleviate symptoms?

Second, because I see so many people declining to think about what of themselves they can contribute to the world in favor of what they can get out of it.

Ideally, there's a state of flow between giving and receiving. Contributing your joy, authenticity, kindness, creativity, higher vision, acceptance, labor, sense of peace . . . all of this should generate dividends in kind. In practice, it doesn't always happen that way. (Often, this is framed as a conversation centered on privilege, as disadvantaged people often don't have the bandwidth to think about the big picture when they are fighting for daily survival. To this, I would say, perhaps the highest level of Ming – and of wellness overall – is to address and heal generational trauma, which is the internal work of a lifetime.)

Many people, if not most, don't even know what their Ming is, much less how to move toward it. In very practical terms, and at the risk of sounding like a cranky old man, that's clear from even the most cursory look at how our culture functions.

I look at every person who walks into my acupuncture clinic through this lens. Where do they come to life? Where do they shut down? These are clues, a good place to start. Addressing physical and emotional symptoms in the context of wellness is an important part of this journey, because when distracting symptoms are reduced, the vision of the world around you becomes clearer.

You may not know what your Ming is, but it knows who you are. And it's waiting in every moment.