Why Yin and Yang Need ‘Yin Fighting and Yang Disturbing’

The concept of “Yin contending and Yang disturbing” (阴争阳扰) illustrates the ongoing dynamic tension between Yin and Yang forces. According to The Yellow Emperor’s Inner Classic (Suwen), in the section on Yin and Yang differentiation, it is stated: “Yin contends within, while Yang disturbs externally.” This means that, internally, Yin energy dominates the conflict, while externally, Yang energy plays the leading role. Each force maintains a micro-environment conducive to its own benefit.

In the Spring and Autumn Annals of Vitality, it further elaborates: “When Yin essence is unbalanced, Yang cannot function properly.” Similarly, in the Suwen’s Malaria Treatise, it says, “Yin and Yang clash, alternating between emptiness and fullness, as they shift between one another. When Yang overlaps with Yin, Yin becomes empty and Yang becomes full… If Yin energy grows too extreme, Yang rises to balance it. When both Yin and Yang converge externally, Yin becomes empty and Yang becomes full… If they converge with Yang, Yang prevails; if they converge with Yin, Yin prevails.”

What this describes is a continuous, cyclical struggle where Yin is associated with internal emptiness and Yang with external fullness. Only through the struggle of “Yin contending and Yang disturbing” can a dynamic balance be maintained. At first glance, it may appear that one force has completely overcome the other. However, what truly happens is that the more dominant force simply overshadows or absorbs the weaker one, hiding its effects beneath the stronger one.

The crux of the idea is that the process of conflict between Yin and Yang is essential for the ongoing movement and development of all things. Without this struggle—without Yin contending and Yang disturbing—there would be no change, no progression, and no evolution of life itself. The balance is constantly shifting, and through this perpetual cycle, growth and transformation are achieved.

This metaphorical “battle” between Yin and Yang mirrors much of life itself, where opposing forces must continuously interact for any form of development, just as day and night, rest and activity, chaos and order, rely on one another to maintain the flow of existence. It’s an eternal cycle of opposition that isn’t about annihilation, but about integration and transformation.

In a small town in the heart of the Midwest, nestled between fields of wheat and rolling hills, there was a quiet little coffee shop that everyone knew as “The Brewed Awakening.” It was a place where locals gathered to talk about everything from politics to the latest gossip, but it was also a place where people came to escape. Among the regulars was an artist named Max. His world had always been a canvas of extremes.

Max had always been a dreamer, but lately, his life had become a constant battle between two sides of himself. He was either deep in thought, consumed by his creativity, or completely disconnected, drowning in a world of distractions and noise. It felt like his mind was split in two—one side craving calm, solitude, and introspection, while the other sought excitement, connection, and the pulse of the world around him.

It wasn’t until one cold evening in November that Max began to understand what was happening inside him.

That evening, Max was sitting at his usual spot by the window, sipping his coffee, watching the world outside blur with the falling rain. He had been struggling with his latest painting for weeks. Every time he thought he had found the balance, something would feel off, like one part of him was winning too much over the other. The painting was supposed to represent the harmony of life, yet all he saw were two opposing forces fighting for dominance.

Suddenly, Emma, a friend from the coffee shop, slid into the seat across from him, her presence breaking his concentration. She was the kind of person who could talk about anything and everything with ease, someone whose energy could fill a room. Max, on the other hand, often felt like a half-empty glass—too much quiet, not enough noise.

“You look like you’re deep in thought,” Emma remarked with a playful smile.

Max sighed. “I don’t know. I’m trying to capture something, but it’s like my own life is fighting against itself. I can’t seem to find peace.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You know, you’re not the only one. Everyone feels like that sometimes—like you’re being pulled in two different directions. It’s like trying to balance work, relationships, and personal time. Some days, you just want to shut everything out, but then you feel guilty for not staying connected. It’s exhausting.”

Max chuckled. “Exactly! I get lost in my own head sometimes. When I’m painting, I feel like the quiet inside me takes over. But then the noise from the world—other people, responsibilities, even social media—pulls me out again.”

Emma leaned back in her chair, her eyes thoughtful. “You know, this reminds me of Yin and Yang—the balance between opposites. The way things need to be in motion, always shifting to keep balance. Yin is like the quiet, the introspection—the inner peace you want. Yang, on the other hand, is the outside world, the energy, the push for action and change. It’s the tension between the two that creates the flow of life.”

Max looked at her, intrigued. “I’ve heard of Yin and Yang, but how does that apply to me right now?”

Emma smiled, “It’s simple. You’re fighting yourself, Max. You’re allowing one side to dominate too much, whether it’s your need for calm or your need for excitement. But when you find the sweet spot—the place where both forces work together—you’ll feel that flow. The trick is understanding that this back-and-forth struggle is what keeps things moving forward. It’s not about one winning over the other, but about letting them balance each other out.”

Max leaned forward, the pieces starting to click. “So, it’s like when I get too lost in the quiet, I start to miss the world outside. But when I’m too consumed by the noise, I lose touch with myself. I need to find a way to make both work together.”

“Exactly,” Emma said, her voice soft but firm. “That’s the beauty of life. You need both—because without one, the other wouldn’t make sense. The struggle between Yin and Yang is the engine that keeps everything going. Your art, your life—it’s all about finding that dynamic balance.”

The next day, Max stood in front of his canvas, feeling the weight of Emma’s words. He dipped his brush into the paint, but this time, he didn’t rush. He let each stroke flow naturally, allowing his quiet side to influence the depth of the painting, while letting his bursts of energy color the edges, creating contrast, movement, and life. The painting began to take shape, not as one singular force, but as an interplay of both.

As he stepped back to look at his work, Max realized that he hadn’t “solved” the problem. The painting wasn’t perfect—but it was real. It was alive, just like the balance between Yin and Yang, just like the ebb and flow of his own life. There would be moments when the quiet would overwhelm him, and others when the world would pull him away. But, like Yin and Yang, these moments would always be in motion, pushing him toward growth.

Max smiled to himself. Maybe balance wasn’t about finding stillness—it was about learning how to move with the forces that shaped him. And for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace with that.

End

This story uses the conflict between Yin and Yang to illustrate the internal struggle many people face in balancing their desires for both inner peace and external stimulation. The dynamic tension between these opposing forces, as Max learns, is essential for growth and change. Just like the ancient wisdom of Yin and Yang suggests, it’s the constant push and pull that keeps us evolving. In life, the key isn’t to eliminate one side, but to find a way for them to coexist, creating a harmonious flow.