When you leaf through the traditional Chinese calendar, you’ll find the year delicately divided into 24 segments – the “24 Solar Terms”. More than a timekeeping system, it’s like a diary of nature. Among them, one term sounds especially powerful: Jingzhe.
Jingzhe usually falls on March 5th or 6th, the third solar term of spring. The name itself is a picture: “zhe” refers to small creatures like insects and snakes that hide underground during winter, neither eating nor drinking, sunk in deep slumber; “jing” means to startle or awaken.
Together, it means the first spring thunder awakens all the hibernating life underground. Scientifically speaking, what really wakes them is the warming soil, but the ancient imagination gave this day a dramatic romance.
As Jingzhe arrives, nature seems to press the fast-forward button. Peach blossoms are the first to get the signal, bursting into pink and red overnight. Orioles hop onto branches and start their clear, melodious songs. The ancients also observed an interesting phenomenon: early-spring hawks seemed to decrease, while gentle turtledoves and cuckoos became more numerous.
They romantically recorded this as “hawks transform into doves,” as if the fierce raptors had turned into gentle birds. Though not accurate by modern biology, it perfectly embodies the innocent empathy ancient people felt with all living things.
“When spring thunder sounds, all things grow.” Jingzhe is also the starting gun for farming. As temperatures rise and rain increases, busy spring plowing begins across China from south to north. A farming proverb says, “Once Jingzhe arrives, the hoe never rests.” Farmers turn the soil, sow seeds, and bury a year’s hopes into the earth.
Accompanying Jingzhe are many warm and interesting customs, all centered around driving away bad luck and embracing health.
Eating pears to moisten the lungs and seek “separation”.
Eating pears on Jingzhe is a widespread custom. In the unpredictable warmth and cold of early spring, people easily get dry mouth and throat, and pears happen to be perfect for clearing heat and moistening the lungs. What’s clever is that the Chinese word for “pear” (lí) sounds exactly like “to leave” or “to separate” (lí).
By eating pears, people hope that disease, pests, and all bad things will “separate” from them – nourishing the body while soothing the mind.
Offering sacrifice to the White Tiger to guard against troublemakers.
In Chinese folklore, the White Tiger is the mythical beast in charge of gossip and disputes. It is said to come out hunting every Jingzhe; if you offend it, you’ll attract petty people and get entangled in conflict. So people make a paper tiger and smear lard on its mouth, leaving it too greasy to open its mouth and harm anyone. This is actually a simple wish – for fewer quarrels and more peace in life.
Beating the “villain” to drive away bad luck.
Especially in Guangdong and Hong Kong, you may see people on Jingzhe beating a paper cutout of a “villain” with a shoe while muttering incantations.This is not malicious; it’s more like a psychological spring cleaning, meant to swat away backstabbing people and pesky misfortune so one can step lightly into spring.
There is also a rather archaic custom: renewing drum skins.
The ancients believed the thunder of Jingzhe was the sound of the thunder god beating his heavenly drum. So on this day people would re-cover their drums with new skin, aligning human activity with the cosmos and resonating with heaven and earth.
If you reflect on them, all Jingzhe customs circle around a desire for “renewal”. After so long hidden away in winter, be it good or bad, one must perform some rituals to sweep away stagnation and start afresh.
Today, we may no longer cover drums or worship tigers, but the spirit of Jingzhe is never outdated. It serves as a gentle reminder: nature and our own lives need a timely “awakening”. A spring thunder calls awake not just the bugs in the soil, but also our inner yearning for spring and our confidence in a brand-new start.
There are no comments yet, come and comment~