The Five Elements We’re All Made Of

Your body speaks the language of nature—these five elements are its alphabet

May 11, 2025

bokeh photography of person carrying soil — Photo by Gabriel Jimenez on Unsplash

Namaste,

We’re made of the same things the earth is made of. I’ve always found that both humbling and deeply comforting. Ayurveda tells us that everything in nature—our bodies, the trees outside, the food we eat, the wind, the rain—is composed of five elements: earth, water, fire, air, and space.

It’s a simple idea, but once you see it, you can’t unsee it. These five elements aren’t abstract or symbolic. They’re everywhere. They’re everything.

We feel them in our bones, our breath, our digestion, our thoughts. We taste them in our food. We notice them in the shifting seasons, in the warmth of the sun, in the softness of a ripe peach.

Each element brings its own qualities, its own kind of intelligence:

Earth (Prithvi):
Solid, heavy, stable. Earth gives form, structure, support. It’s the bones in our body, the muscles that hold us upright, the ground beneath our feet.

Water (Jala):
Fluid, smooth, cohesive. Water allows movement and connection. It’s the saliva that begins digestion, the plasma that nourishes cells, the moisture that keeps tissues supple.

Fire (Tejas):
Transformation, heat, brightness. Fire digests, metabolizes, illuminates. It’s the enzyme that breaks down food, the spark of insight, the warmth in our skin.

Air (Vayu):
Movement, lightness, mobility. Air circulates and animates. It’s the breath moving in and out, the nervous system firing signals, the wind stirring the trees.

Space (Akasha):
Openness, expansiveness, possibility. Space makes room for everything else to exist. It’s the hollows in our lungs that hold air, the gaps between thoughts, the vastness that allows movement and sound.

We’re born of all five. They swirl together in unique proportions in each of us. Sometimes one takes center stage; sometimes another whispers in the background. They don’t stay still—just like nature, they shift, they respond, they dance.

Understanding the elements is a way of learning the language of nature within us. It’s how we begin to notice the subtle shifts: when we feel too heavy, too scattered, too fiery, too damp, too dry.

The elements show up in our emotions, too. The stubbornness of earth. The flexibility of water. The intensity of fire. The unpredictability of air. The spaciousness—or emptiness—of space.

Once you start noticing, you start seeing patterns.

A headache after a long day in the sun? Maybe a little too much fire.

Anxiety that makes it hard to sleep? Maybe air and space are dominating.

A sense of heaviness or sluggishness in the rainy season? Earth and water might be building up.

Air and Space: Not the Same Thing

When I first started learning about the five elements, I had no trouble grasping earth, water, and fire. They felt intuitive. Concrete. I could feel them in my food, in my body, in the world around me. But air and space? Those were harder to wrap my head around.

Maybe you feel that too.

They’re both invisible. Both intangible. And it’s easy to lump them together, to assume they’re versions of the same thing. But they’re not.

One of my teachers explained the difference in a way that stayed with me—not just because it made intellectual sense, but because I could suddenly feel the distinction in my own body.

So let’s pause here, and take a closer look:

Space—Akasha—is the subtlest of the five elements. It’s not movement. It’s not weight or heat or form. It’s the container for everything else. It’s the quiet, empty field in which the other elements unfold. Space shows up in our bodies as the hollow parts: the chest cavity, the nostrils, the digestive tract. It’s associated with sound, because sound travels through space. Without space, nothing could exist—there would be no room for breath, thought, movement, growth.

Air—Vayu—is movement. It’s the breath flowing in and out, the blood circulating, the flicker of a thought, the twitch of a muscle. It’s light, dry, and mobile. It animates. It’s what moves through space. And it can only move because space makes it possible.

Space holds.
Air moves.

One is the room; the other is the dance inside it.

And once you sense that difference, you begin to notice when air or space is showing up a little too strongly in your own system.

That restless, can’t-sit-still feeling? That’s air.
That floating, untethered, disconnected sensation? That’s space.

We need both to feel alive. But like so much in Ayurveda, it’s about balance.

The beauty of this perspective isn’t that it offers a one-size-fits-all solution—it’s that it teaches us to pay attention. To observe what’s present in the moment, and respond accordingly.

When we understand the elements, we begin to understand ourselves with more kindness. We stop fighting our nature. We learn to work with it—to ease what’s in excess, to support what’s lacking, to make small shifts that bring us back into harmony with the world we’re already part of.

It’s not about memorizing ancient theory. It’s about learning to listen—to the quiet messages our body, mind, and surroundings have been offering all along.

The five elements aren’t something to “believe in.” They’re something to notice. To feel. To live in conversation with.

And the more we do, the more connected we feel—not just to our own well-being, but to everything around us.

We are not separate from nature.
We are nature.

**Adiyogi Shiva statue in Coimbatore, India.** Tiny me, standing before this embodiment of stillness and transformation. A reminder that we’re made of the same five elements—and that we’re never as separate from the sacred as we sometimes feel.

If something in this post sparked a thought, a memory, or a question—I’d love to hear it. Which element feels most alive in you right now? Which one might be asking for your attention?

Ayurveda in Modern Life

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