Planting Seeds: Lessons in Growth and Wood Energy
When do adults forget to play? I've been thinking about growth, new shoots and new experiences recently. As we move into spring — or whatever season of growth you find yourself in — it feels like a good time to explore the aspects of the wood phase in Qigong that support our growth.
It was my birthday a couple of months ago, and I'd been talking about this being the year I began a small herb garden in my kitchen. I dreamt of having a few pots of herbs to hand while I cooked. My partner presented me with three pots and pouches of seeds for my birthday: it was only when I received the gift that the dream became reality. Some shoots appeared almost immediately, vibrant and eager, growing up all leggy. Others are taking their time, their first green edges just breaking through the soil. And some, I suspect, are still finding the right moment to emerge. Watching them has reminded me how tender and variable growth can be.
Growth often begins quietly, beneath the surface. Water nourishes the seed before it sees the sun, and in our own lives, periods of stillness, reflection, or dreaming serve the same purpose. Then, when the conditions are right, movement begins — sometimes erratic, sometimes smooth, always directed upward. Wood energy in traditional Chinese medicine captures this movement: it represents growth, expansion, vision, and the vitality to reach toward something larger than ourselves.
Recently, I tried something new — or rather, something old made new again. I booked a movement-based workshop rooted in physical theatre, a world I had loved earlier in my life and gradually drifted away from. In the depths of winter I'd been thinking about it for weeks, feeling nervous and hesitant. Part of me wanted to stay within the certainty of what I already knew. The decision to go anyway, to push past that hesitation — that was wood energy at work. But what I didn't expect was the lightness. A feeling of renewal, of coming home to something my body had half-remembered all along. That sense of returning — not to where I had been, but to a deeper turn of the same spiral — felt like one of the truest expressions of growth I have known.
And when I arrived, I found joy and connection too. That belonged to fire, a different element entirely, one that wood had led me toward. This is worth pausing on, because the five elements are never truly separate. We carry all of them within us at all times — wood, fire, earth, metal, and water — each one influencing and feeding the others. When we tend to one, we often awaken another. Wood's forward drive can spark fire's warmth and connection. Water's stillness nourishes wood's growth. They are less like separate boxes and more like a conversation that is always in motion.
This spiral quality — returning to something with new eyes — is perhaps closer to the real nature of wood energy than the idea of always moving into the unknown. Growth isn't linear. We revisit the same themes, the same loves, the same longings, but from a different place each time. What feels like going back is often going deeper. The curious, exploratory drive of wood isn't only about pushing into new territory; it's also about recognising what has always been reaching toward the light in us, waiting for the right conditions to grow.
In traditional Five Element theory, the wood phase is linked with spring and often associated with childhood in the human life cycle. Children explore the world by trying, failing, adjusting, and trying again — that curious, boundary-testing drive isn't separate from growth, it's one of its most natural expressions. Modern psychology agrees: this quality of open, exploratory engagement supports learning, creativity, and emotional resilience throughout adult life. It keeps us adaptable rather than fixed, and lets us discover what feels right by moving toward it rather than planning it in advance.
Wood energy has both physical and emotional expressions. Physically, it's linked with the liver and gallbladder, which support smooth flow and decision-making, and with the tendons and eyes, reflecting flexibility and clarity of vision. Emotionally, wood energy carries the potential for anger — which, when met consciously, can clear obstacles and move us toward action rather than suppression. Sometimes growth can feel erratic or blocked: bursts of restless energy that need structure, or hesitant shoots calling for more rest, reflection, or dreaming. Noticing which you're in helps you grow in a way that feels sustainable rather than forced.
Ways to Tend Your Wood Energy
Here are five ways to lean into your wood energy and tend your growth:
Be a beginner on purpose — or a returner Choose a small new experience, or revisit something you once loved and left behind. Let yourself not know what you're doing yet, or be surprised by what your body still remembers. Notice how it feels to explore without needing to be good at it.
Move like your herbs Spend a few minutes stretching upward and outward: reaching, spiralling, bending, swaying. Imagine yourself as a shoot finding the light. Let it be curious rather than precise.
Create without a destination Set a timer for five minutes and write, sketch, or doodle with no goal in mind. Let ideas wander wherever they want to go.
Give small frustrations somewhere to move Notice irritation or resistance and offer it an outlet — a strong walk, shaking out the arms, a few honest lines on paper. When anger is met gently, it becomes movement rather than stagnation.
Water your seedlings Ask yourself: what feels like it's just beginning — or beginning again — in my life? Offer it patience, rest, and attention. Growth doesn't need to be rushed to be real — some of my herbs are still underground, and I'm choosing to trust them.
As I watch the herbs in my kitchen, I'm reminded that growth is both tender and powerful, patient and persistent. Some shoots appear quickly, some slowly, and some are still hidden, waiting for the right moment. And beneath it all, the elements are in conversation — wood reaching upward, water feeding the roots, fire waiting to be kindled when the time is right.
This season, wherever you are in your cycle of growth — what seeds are you planting, and what might be ready to spiral back into the light? What moments of curiosity, renewal, or quiet direction might help them flourish?
If you’d like a space to explore this kind of growth — through movement, breath, and quiet attention — my Qigong classes in Bournemouth and Christchurch offer a way to work with Wood energy in the body as well as the imagination.
Image by shimulnath from Pixabay