Between Mīzān and Yin–Yang
A Dialogue on Health and Harmony
Traditional Chinese Medicine is rarely discussed alongside Islamic medicine. Yet the more I studied its principles, the harder it became to ignore their shared language of balance, rhythm, and restraint. In this essay, I explore the surprising overlaps between these two traditions—and what they reveal about how we understand health.
I have always been drawn to traditional systems of medicine, alongside a deep curiosity about people themselves. Learning languages became one of the ways I tried to understand how different cultures experience the world, the body, and health. I hope this way of learning will one day allow me to meet my patients with greater sensitivity—and it is this curiosity that ultimately shaped the way I approach medicine today.
Balance as a Medical Principle
“And the heaven He raised and established the balance,
so that you may not transgress the balance.”
— Qur’an 55:7–9
In Traditional Chinese Medicine, balance is not a metaphor—it is the foundation of health. Illness arises when this balance is disturbed, whether through excess, deficiency, or misalignment with natural rhythms. What struck me was how closely this mirrors the Islamic concept of mīzān: balance as an order built into creation itself, not something humans invent, but something they are meant to respect.
Seen this way, health becomes less about intervention and more about alignment. The question shifts from “How do we fix the body?” to “How do we live in a way that keeps balance intact?”
Neither mīzān nor yin and yang describe a static state. Balance is not something achieved once and kept forever. It is something that must be continuously tended to, responding to time, environment, emotion, and daily habits.
Rhythm, Time, and the Body
In both Traditional Chinese Medicine and Islamic thought, health is inseparable from time. The body is not understood as something static, but as something that moves in rhythm—with day and night, with seasons, and with cycles that are larger than the individual.
In Traditional Chinese Medicine, this rhythm is visible everywhere: in the alternation of yin and yang, in the movement of qi throughout the day, and in the way the body responds differently to activity and rest. Night is associated with inward movement, restoration, and nourishment; day with outward expression, activity, and engagement with the world. When these rhythms are ignored, imbalance quietly begins to form.
Islamic tradition approaches time with a similar sensitivity. Daily prayers structure the day, fasting follows the lunar calendar, and religious life itself unfolds in relation to cycles rather than fixed schedules. Time is not something to be dominated, but something to be observed and respected. The body, too, is expected to live within these rhythms—to rest, to pause, and to recover.
What connects these perspectives is the idea that health depends not only on what we do, but on when we do it. Eating, sleeping, working, and even healing itself are not neutral actions; they carry different effects depending on timing. When life is lived in constant acceleration, without regard for natural pauses, the body eventually signals distress.
Seen through this lens, illness is not always a failure of the body, but often a sign of rhythmic disruption. Fatigue, restlessness, and chronic imbalance can be understood as consequences of living out of sync—with time, with environment, and with the body’s own needs.
The Moon and the Body
Few forces shape the human body as quietly as the moon. Long before artificial light and fixed schedules, human rhythms followed lunar cycles—through sleep, energy, fluids, and blood. Traditional systems of medicine treated this relationship not as symbolism, but as physiology.
In Traditional Chinese Medicine, the moon is associated with yin, blood, and fluids—substances that nourish and restore the body. Islamic tradition, likewise, organizes fasting and religious life around lunar time, repeatedly inviting the body into cycles of restraint and recovery. What connects these views is the understanding that vitality is cyclical, not constant—a reality especially evident in women’s health, where fluctuation and rest are part of strength rather than signs of weakness.
The moon, then, is not just a marker of time, but a regulator of balance—quietly shaping when the body gathers, releases, and renews itself.
Rest, Night, and Stillness
Night has long been understood as a time of repair rather than inactivity. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, night belongs to yin—to inward movement, restoration, and the return of blood and energy to their deeper reserves. When rest is shortened or disrupted, the body gradually loses its ability to recover, even if daytime activity continues uninterrupted.
Islamic tradition similarly treats the night as a protected space. Sleep, stillness, and moments of quiet reflection are not seen as indulgence, but as necessary conditions for balance. What connects these views is the understanding that healing does not happen through constant action, but through pauses that allow the body to replenish what has been spent.
In a culture that resists rest, night quietly remains one of the body’s most reliable forms of medicine.
Restraint and Moderation
Health, in traditional systems of medicine, is inseparable from restraint. Rather than encouraging constant consumption or stimulation, both Traditional Chinese Medicine and Islamic thought emphasize moderation as a way of protecting balance. Excess—whether in food, activity, or emotion—is understood as one of the primary causes of disharmony.
In this view, restraint is not denial, but care. Fasting, measured eating, and intentional pauses create space for the body to regulate itself. Strength is not defined by how much one can endure without stopping, but by the ability to recognize limits and respond to them wisely.
Moderation, then, becomes a quiet form of intelligence—one that preserves vitality by knowing when enough is enough.
What connects these practices is not shared history, but shared reasoning. Across different languages and cosmologies, the body is approached as something that thrives in rhythm, clarity, and flow—and suffers when these are disrupted.
In the days that follow, I’ll look more closely at these shared logics—through sleep, fasting, and traditional healing practices.