Chapter 8 · The First Pentad: The Bitter Herbs Flourish—Fire Virtue and Poetry Within Bitterness

I. "The Bitter Herbs Flourish": The Phenological Reality of the First Pentad

The "Treatise on Seasonal Training" (Shixun Jie) in the Yi Zhoushu (Lost Book of Zhou), together with the Monthly Ordinances of successive dynasties, records the three pentads of Xiaoman as follows: "On the day of Xiaoman, the bitter herbs flourish; five days later, the mi grass dies; five days after that, wheat's autumn arrives (in some versions, 'the small heat arrives,' though 'wheat's autumn arrives' is regarded as correct)" (小满之日，苦菜秀；又五日，靡草死；又五日，麦秋至).

The first pentad is "the bitter herbs flourish" (苦菜秀). The Shuowen glosses the character xiu (秀) as a taboo character reserved for the emperor above (avoiding the personal name of Emperor Guangwu of Han, Liu Xiu, and so Xu Shen did not state its meaning explicitly), yet its original meaning, according to most classical glosses, refers to plants and trees "flowering and bearing fruit." Confucius, in the Analects, "Zi Han," says: "There are cases, surely, of a shoot that grows but never flowers (xiu)! And there are cases, surely, of one that flowers (xiu) but never bears fruit!" (苗而不秀者有矣夫！秀而不实者有矣夫！)—there are cases where a seedling grows but never puts forth its ear (xiu), and cases where it puts forth its ear (xiu) but never bears grain. From this we can see that xiu refers to a plant putting forth its ear, flowering, and flourishing.

"The bitter herbs flourish" means that, by Xiaoman, the bitter herb—a kind of wild green—grows most luxuriantly, its stalks shooting up and bursting into flower one after another. The bitter herb is a bitter-tasting wild plant (called tu 荼 or ku mai 苦荬 in ancient texts), which grows most abundantly in early summer.

Why did our ancestors place "the bitter herbs flourish" as the very first pentad of Xiaoman$11 This was by no means an arbitrary choice. At Xiaoman, a season when Fire virtue is gradually flourishing and the heat of summer is approaching, the very first thing to flourish between Heaven and Earth is precisely this bitter-tasting wild plant—and within this lies a profound principle governing both the Dao of Heaven and human affairs.

II. The Bitter Herb and Fire Virtue: The Dao of Heaven's Exquisite Arrangement of "Bitterness Answering Fire"

We have already noted, in discussing "its flavor is bitter," that bitterness belongs to Fire and correlates with summer within the Five Phases. That "the bitter herbs flourish" occurs precisely at Xiaoman, when Fire virtue is gradually flourishing, is by no means coincidental, but an exquisite arrangement of the Dao of Heaven—"bitterness answering Fire."

Why, at the moment Fire qi is about to flourish, do Heaven and Earth choose precisely this moment to let bitter things flourish$12 Here lies a profound principle of both health cultivation and the Dao of Heaven—bitterness can clear Fire. The bitter herb is cool in nature and bitter in flavor, precisely a natural remedy for relieving summer heat and dispelling the toxin of Fire. Just as Fire virtue is about to flourish, and the searing heat of summer approaches, Heaven and Earth produce, in advance, an abundance of the bitter herb—as though preparing an "antidote" for the scorching heat soon to come. This is a form of compassion and consideration that the Dao of Heaven extends to all things (and especially to humanity)—flourishing Fire is approaching, and the means to clear it have already been prepared.

The traditional practice of "eating bitter in summer" for health cultivation has its roots precisely here. The Book of Songs (Shijing), in "Gu Feng" from the "Airs of Bei," contains the line "Who says the bitter herb is bitter$13 It is as sweet as shepherd's purse" (谁谓荼苦？其甘如荠)—tu (荼) here referring to the bitter herb. In the material scarcity of high antiquity, the bitter herb was an important wild vegetable for relieving famine during the "lean season" (Xiaoman falls precisely in that lean season when the wheat is not yet ripe and the old grain is nearly exhausted). That Heaven and Earth produce the bitter herb precisely when people are most short of grain, and produce Fire-clearing plants precisely when Fire is most flourishing—this pentad of "the bitter herbs flourish" is both a phenological fact and an act of compassion, on the part of Heaven and Earth, toward all living beings.

III. The Philosophy of "Bitterness": Enduring the Bitterest of the Bitter

"The bitter herbs flourish," as the first pentad of Xiaoman, also thrusts before us the character "bitter" (苦), inviting deep reflection on the profound significance of "bitterness" within Chinese culture.

Note a deeply meaningful arrangement: at the very moment when all things are attaining "a small fullness," a season brimming with hope and joy, the first pentad is, of all things, "bitter"—the bitter herbs flourish. What a profound reminder this is! It is as though saying: abundance (fullness) and bitterness have always been born together; the closer one draws to the joy of harvest, the more fully one must first taste the bitterness of the grain-filling process.

This is precisely the archetype of the Chinese wisdom that "bitterness ends and sweetness comes," that "only by enduring the bitterest of the bitter can one rise above other people." At Xiaoman, the wheat is filling with grain—this is the wheat's most "laborious" stage, as it exerts all its strength to send nourishment into the kernels. The farmer, too, is at their most laborious at this time—tending the nearly ripe wheat, while also preparing for the imminent "three summer tasks" (summer harvest, summer sowing, summer field management) that will follow close behind. That "the bitter herbs flourish" falls precisely at this moment seems to be Heaven and Earth's own corroboration and illumination of this "bitterness"—before fullness, there must first be bitterness; before sweetness, one must first taste what is bitter.

Master Meng's celebrated and timeless passage resonates perfectly with "the bitter herbs flourish": "Therefore, when Heaven is about to confer a great responsibility on a person, it will always first embitter their heart and will, labor their sinews and bones, starve their body and flesh, impoverish their person, and confound their undertakings—thereby stirring their heart, hardening their nature, and increasing their capacity where they were formerly incapable" (故天将降大任于是人也，必先苦其心志，劳其筋骨，饿其体肤，空乏其身，行拂乱其所为，所以动心忍性，曾益其所不能; Mencius, "Gaozi II"). When Heaven is about to confer a great task upon a person, it must first let them undergo all manner of hardship—"embittering their heart and will." This "bitterness" is not punishment, but tempering, the necessary path toward "increasing their capacity where they were formerly incapable."

The bitter herbs flourishing at Xiaoman is precisely Heaven and Earth's own version of "embittering the heart and will"—just before all things reach "great completion" (harvest), they are first tempered and ground down by "bitterness." Only through this tempering of "bitterness" can that "small fullness" ultimately advance to a true and full harvest.

IV. The Image of the Bitter Herb in the Book of Songs

The bitter herb (tu, or ku) is an image that recurs again and again throughout the Book of Songs, carrying within it the rich emotional life of our ancestors.

The Book of Songs, in "Cai Ling" from the "Airs of Tang," contains the line "Gathering bitter herbs, gathering bitter herbs, at the foot of Mount Shouyang" (采苦采苦，首阳之下)—gathering bitter herbs at the foot of Mount Shouyang. The Book of Songs, in "Qi Yue" from the "Airs of Bin," contains the line "We gather the bitter herb and cut the foul-smelling tree for firewood, to feed us farmers" (采荼薪樗，食我农夫)—gathering the bitter herb and felling the foul-smelling chu tree for fuel, in order to sustain us farmers. These lines record, plainly and simply, the actual place the bitter herb held in the lives of our ancestors—an ordinary wild vegetable on the farmer's table, sustenance during hard times.

The line from "Gu Feng" in the "Airs of Bei," "Who says the bitter herb is bitter$14 It is as sweet as shepherd's purse," elevates the image of "bitterness" to a philosophical height. A woman abandoned by her husband, lamenting her own sorrow and bitterness, says: "Who says the bitter herb is bitter$15 Compared to the bitterness in my heart, it is as sweet as shepherd's purse"—using the "bitterness" of the bitter herb to set off, by contrast, the "bitterness" of human life, so that the bitterness of the herb becomes, in comparison, "sweetness." What a profound and poignant technique this is, using the bitterness of taste to write of the bitterness of life!

From this we can see that "bitterness," in the Book of Songs and in the hearts of our ancestors, was never merely a matter of taste, but a symbol of the very flavor of human existence. That "the bitter herbs flourish" at Xiaoman places this character "bitter"—so charged with the texture of life and the philosophy of existence—at the very season when all things are approaching fullness, letting abundance and bitterness, hope and hardship, intertwine and resonate within one and the same solar term. This is precisely our ancestors' most truthful and most profound recognition of life—fullness never arrives out of nowhere; it always grows out of the tempering of bitterness.