Monday, April 6, 2009
Acupuncture Thoughts
Spring Asserts Itself
This is written by an acupunk commrade in Detroit, the inimitable Nora Madden of Detroit Community Acupuncture.
Last week, when my partner and I were driving home from work, we saw a small shape waddling across the road up ahead. “Is it a chicken, crossing the road?” I asked, with incredulous delight; but as we got closer and saw the shape take flight, we realized that it was in fact a pheasant! - the first one we’d seen this season. When we got to our house, we also noticed for the first time that crocuses were pushing up out of the soil in the front yard.
What does all this have to do with acupuncture? Chinese Medicine (like all traditional medicines, to my knowledge) is based in observation of the natural environment, the seasons and their “elements.” The element associated with Spring is Wood–that is to say, the energy of plant life. The emotion associated with the Wood element is anger and all of its permutations; but another way of thinking about the energy of Wood and Spring is as assertiveness. It is the energy required for the seed to sprout, and for the sprout to pierce the soil and reach towards the sun. It is the assertiveness required for the salmon to return upstream, the pluckiness that it takes for that pheasant (or chicken) to cross the road, or to push off and take flight.
Sometimes this healthy feeling of assertiveness is thwarted and turns into frustration, or “stuckness.” (The feeling of your knickers being in a knot is a definite sign of the Wood element being out of whack.) This “stuckness” can manifest emotionally (as anger, irritability, inability to make decisions, etc.) or physical (e.g. an upset stomach, tense shoulders or jaws, or even a stronger sensation of pain). Conversely, pain tends to be emotionally and physically frustrating, so even the most sunny and even-tempered among us can get cranky after awhile of being in pain. Blockage leads to more blockage, as when leaves and other flotsam pile up around the rocks in a stream.
Spring can also engender a feeling of frustration or impatience, the way that warm and sunny days get our hopes up, only to be interrupted by more cold and grayness. But I love Spring because it is *exactly* addressing these kinds of blockage and restoring a healthy, directed “flow” that acupuncture is particularly good for. Deep breathing and movement also help, especially a nice walk outside, getting a lungful of the sprout-and-mud-scented air.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
A Poem by Billy Collins
Reading an Anthology of Chinese Poems of the Song Dynasty I Pause to Admire the Length and Clarity of their Titles
up their ample sleeves
they turn over so many cards so early,
telling us before the first line
whether it is wet or dry,
night or day, the season the man is standing in,
even how much he has had to drink.
Maybe it is autumn and he is looking at a sparrow.
Maybe it is snowing on a town with a beautiful name.
“Viewing Peonies at the Temple of Good Fortune
on a Cloudy Afternoon” is one of Sun Tung Po’s.
“Dipping Water from the River and Simmering Tea”
is another one, or just
“On a Boat, Awake at Night.”
And Lu Yu takes the simple rice cake with
“in a Boat on a Summer Evening
I heard the Cry of a Waterbird.
It Was Very Sad and Seemed To Be Saying
My Woman is Cruel—Moved, I Wrote This Poem.”
There is no iron turnstile to push against here
as with headings like “Vortex on a String,”
“The Horn of Neurosis,” or whatever.
No confusingly inscribed welcome mat to puzzle over.
Instead, “I Walk Out on a Summer Morning
to the Sound of Birds and a Waterfall”
is a beaded curtain brushing over my shoulders.
And “Ten Days of Spring Rain Have Kept Me Indoors”
is a servant who shows me into the room
where a poet with a thin beard
is sitting on a mat witha jug of wine
whispering something about clouds and cold wind,
about sickness and the loss of friends.
How easy he has made it for me to enter here,
to sit down in a corner,
cross my legs like him, and listen.