What is the meaning of the “fish eye” in the Yin-Yang fish?

The yin-yang fish symbol is a cornerstone of Chinese philosophy, and its design is both simple and profoundly meaningful. At the heart of this symbol, you’ll find two small circles inside the heads of the black and white fish-like shapes. These are affectionately known as the “fish eyes.” The black “eye” resides within the white side of the circle, while the white “eye” sits within the black side.

To decode the meaning behind this imagery, it helps to know that white symbolizes yang energy, associated with light, heat, and activity, while black represents yin energy, tied to darkness, coolness, and rest. The interplay of these energies is central to the yin-yang concept, and the “fish eyes” embody the principle that within yin lies a seed of yang, and within yang lies a seed of yin. In other words, no force exists in isolation—each carries the essence of its counterpart.

Now, let’s connect this to the natural world. The yin-yang fish also represents the cycle of the seasons. At the summer solstice, when yang energy is at its peak, a small spark of yin begins to grow, signified by the black eye within the white area. Conversely, at the winter solstice, when yin energy dominates, the first stirrings of yang emerge, represented by the white eye within the black area.

This duality can be observed geographically as well. In northern regions, where the yin energy of cold and darkness reaches its zenith, there is always a touch of warmth (yang) at its core, symbolized by the white fish eye in the black. Similarly, in the southern regions, where yang energy like heat and brightness peaks, there’s always a hint of cooling relief (yin), reflected by the black eye within the white.

The two fish eyes gazing toward each other create a dynamic tension, illustrating how opposing forces interact, blend, and evolve. This perpetual exchange gives rise to the eight trigrams of the Bagua, a fundamental system in Chinese cosmology, which further symbolizes the constant motion, transformation, and balance within the universe.

The Dance of Light and Shadow: A Modern Tale of Balance

In a small, picturesque town on the East Coast, nestled between sprawling woods and the crashing waves of the Atlantic, lived a quirky, self-proclaimed artist named Jack. Jack was the kind of guy who painted murals on the sides of diners and occasionally burst into philosophical debates at the coffee shop. He had a best friend, Maya, a yoga teacher with a penchant for quoting ancient texts, especially when they didn’t quite fit the situation.

One chilly autumn evening, as golden leaves scattered across the sidewalks, Jack burst into Maya’s studio holding a wooden carving. It was a gift from his grandfather, a yin-yang symbol delicately crafted into the wood. The black and white fish-like shapes swirled together, their tiny eyes staring back like they held secrets of the universe.

“Check this out,” Jack said, spinning the carving in his hands. “It’s supposed to mean balance or something. But honestly, it just looks like fish chasing each other in circles.”

Maya laughed, her warm voice echoing in the cozy room. “You’re not entirely wrong,” she said. “But there’s so much more to it. Let me show you.”

The Journey Begins

Over the next few weeks, Maya took it upon herself to teach Jack the deeper meaning of the yin-yang. She explained how the white fish symbolized yang—light, energy, and action—while the black fish embodied yin—darkness, rest, and introspection. The “fish eyes,” she told him, showed that within every moment of light, there’s a touch of darkness, and within every shadow, a spark of light.

Jack shrugged. “Sounds poetic, but does it really matter? Life’s either up or down, right?”

Maya didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she invited Jack on a hike during the winter solstice. As they climbed through a frost-covered trail, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long, golden rays over the frozen ground. Jack complained about the cold and how his boots were stiff. But when they reached the summit, the sight took his breath away—crimson and gold hues painted the horizon, a stark contrast to the icy stillness of the landscape.

“See this?” Maya said, gesturing to the scene. “Winter is yin, all cold and still, but the sun’s glow is the spark of yang. Even at the darkest time of year, life still moves forward.”

Jack frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Alright, but what’s the opposite? Like, when everything’s bright and sunny?”

“Summer solstice,” Maya replied. “That’s when yang is at its peak, but even then, the first hints of yin start to creep in. Think of how the heat of summer gives way to cooler nights and how the leaves will eventually fall. Nothing lasts forever—not the good, not the bad.”

The Emotional Peak

One fateful night, months later, Jack found himself in a creative rut. His murals felt uninspired, his usual humor couldn’t mask his frustration, and he began to wonder if he was just a fraud with a paintbrush. Feeling lost, he called Maya.

She met him at the beach at sunset, the same carving of the yin-yang symbol in her hand. “I want to show you something,” she said, drawing a simple line in the sand: one half light, one half dark.

“This is life,” she began. “The highs are yang, the moments of joy, creativity, and connection. The lows are yin, the times you rest, reflect, and recharge. But see these little circles here?” She added dots in each section. “These are your moments of clarity. Even when life feels overwhelming, there’s always a spark of its opposite waiting for you. The secret is finding that spark.”

Jack looked out at the waves, their endless ebb and flow mirroring the rhythm Maya described. The ocean didn’t fight against its tides—it simply moved, accepting each phase as it came. For the first time in weeks, Jack felt a flicker of hope.

The Transformation

Inspired by their conversation, Jack channeled his feelings into a new mural. It wasn’t perfect, but that wasn’t the point. The image was of two koi fish, black and white, their tails swirling into one another on the side of the town’s rec center. Above it, he painted the words: “Within every shadow, a light; within every light, a shadow.”

When the mural was unveiled, the town gathered to admire it. Jack stood beside Maya, who gave him a knowing smile.

“Maybe balance isn’t about staying in the middle,” he mused. “Maybe it’s about moving through the extremes and learning from both.”

“Exactly,” Maya said, nudging him playfully. “Now you’re getting it.”

As the crowd cheered, Jack felt the truth of the yin-yang settle in his chest. Life wasn’t about chasing happiness or escaping sadness—it was about embracing the dance between them, just like those two fish in the circle.

And for the first time in a long time, Jack didn’t feel stuck. He felt alive.