So far this year, probably because my travel schedule appears tough on the website, I’ve received many inquiries about staying healthy during travel. There are lots of things you can do to ease travel stress on the body, but first it’s important to understand the nature of that stress.
Wei qi—otherwise known as receptive, warming, moving, defensive qi—exists as a field encompassing the body, reaching from the smooth muscle of the interior all the way to the far reaches of the universe. As a receptive qi it senses stimuli of all kinds affecting that field, even stimuli beyond our conscious awareness or imagination. As a warming qi, it distributes yang qi to the musculature. As a moving qi, it produces all unconscious movement, including reflexive movement and movement of the cardiovascular and digestive systems. And as a defensive qi, it is the immune system and so is able to erect defenses and to move pathogens away from or out of the body by provoking sneezing, sweating, coughing, vomiting, defecation and urination.
When we fly, we engage in an unnatural activity. The human body is designed to squat, lie, and move under its own steam at a pace that is stress-free, that is, walking pace. Running is available, but physically expensive and reserved for emergencies which is why it activates adrenaline. Traveling at speeds far beyond walking pace is taxing on wei qi because it demands that wei qi engage in many more frequent registrations of the environment as it continually adjusts or regulates the internal functions of the body. The signals that wei qi senses include light, humidity, temperature, latitude and longitude (position in space), the seasons, the nature of food eaten, and time.
Wei qi is manufactured by the body from yang qi, stored in the lower torso, and from fluids derived from the stomach. Travel causes extra wei qi expenditure as it must make constant recalibrations of one’s place and time. Yang qi and fluids are therefore consumed rapidly, resulting in a depletion of wei qi. This leads to jet lag: that discombobulating and depleted condition of fatigue, appetite disruption, constipation, temperature fluctuation, mood shifts, disorientation, and underneath it all, dehydration.
The atmosphere on the planes can be a factor in this, too. I was once on a full flight from New York to Rome and sitting next to me was an elderly Italian couple wearing, as they do, beautiful clothing. Mid-flight, as the woman was standing up to leave her seat, she knocked her full water glass over onto her seat. Quite upset, she called for the flight attendant who mopped it up as best he could and then, understanding the women’s sartorial plight, instructed her to walk around the cabin for ten minutes, promising her that her seat would be dry upon her return. The woman looked doubtful but off she went. A while later she returned, put the back of her hand on the seat, and exclaimed to her husband that it was “già asciutto!”—dry already! Moisture is being drawn through our skin the entire duration of a flight as humidity is kept low in an attempt to control contagion.
With rapid fluctuations of air pressure, wei qi can accumulate in the ears, resulting in ear aches and headaches, or a general feeling of malaise. And on it goes: the food might not be appetizing and so we under-eat, or over-eat, qi stagnates due to lack of movement, and cold air flooding down onto the head and neck causes the body to tighten in defense. These all tax wei qi.
Older people often feel deep discomfort in the air because in our culture, generally, they are quite systemically dehydrated. I remember when my parents came to visit us in New York when my father was 84, I asked him whether they would like to come every year and stay with us for the American summer. He looked at me with great sadness and told me that the flight over had been very difficult for him, that he had not been able to tolerate the twitching in his legs the entire time and was dreading the 21 hours of flying home. Intentionally nourishing fluids for months before flying can help enormously.
For three months prior to long travel, or better still, as a principle of good living, wet food is essential. Deep hydration is not attained by drinking plain water, which is marvelous and essential for clearing and cleansing, but rather via “slow water”, meaning water that is cooked into food. Soups, stews, congees, porridges—these are essential for reliably healthy, comfortable travel.
Traveling with an optimized yang store is also important because yang is the other component of wei qi. Keep protein in your diet. Leave home as rested as possible. Pack well in advance. Sleep as much as you can in the week leading up to travel. Walk around the plane every now and then to keep wei qi from stagnating. Sleep as much as possible on the plane. To save wei qi, keep stimulation down: keep your seatbelt on over your blanket so you’re not disturbed, keep an eyemask around your neck, and if you have them, use noise canceling earphones so that as soon as you get a little sleepy, you can close your eyes and get to sleep more quickly. Nevermind trying to align your sleep with the time zone of your destination—sleep when sleep comes; you need extra to keep your wei qi ready for the overspending. Avoid alcohol on flights. I also carry Po Chai pills in case the food is upsetting, Douglas Fir essential oil to put on LU-9 and BL-67 in case of common cold onset, and a hematite necklace to help bring on sleep. I use the hematite frequently.
As of today, I’ve been on the road for a straight month: four cities on as many continents. In Portland, Oregon my amazing students cooked beautiful congees (with various proteins added) for lunches, and soups for dinner. In Seoul, Korea, my host, Yanan Kim’s mother and aunt made an incredible traditional soup for the full moon holiday from chicken and from chestnuts they gathered in the local forest. Then down south in Gyeongju, at the Golgulsa temple where we had class and lodging, every meal was served with a large bowl of soup. In Melbourne, I frequented two favorite restaurants, Old Beijing and Shanghai Street Food, having big soups every day. In New Zealand, the caterers served soup with every meal at the beautiful meditation center where we had class, and even today my host, Ada Sobieszczuk made rosól, a delicious, very hydrating traditional Polish chicken soup.
In the 70s and 80s we used to refer to certain customized cars as being souped-up, meaning, as long as you put more fuel (soup) in, you could drive them harder and faster with their bored-out engines, triple carburetors, duel exhausts, and fat rear tires. Currently, I have to say that I am pretty souped-up myself. Going strong and in tune. Soon I’ll be in New York City for six days enjoying Andrew and his delicious congees, porridges and soups, before leaving again for the fifth and final leg of the tour: two classes in London, and two completely sold out classes in Girona, Spain, another city of… soup! Cheers!
Ann Cecil-Sterman
21 October 2025
Auckland, New Zealand