A man goes to see a doctor because of chronic migraines. The doctor orders a battery of tests. After paying a small fortune in medical expenses and waiting a month for the results, the man is told, “The problem is coming from your testicles. The results are conclusive and cannot be denied. The only way to get rid of your migraines is for you to be castrated.”
The man is horrified, and stammers that there must be another way to solve his problem. But the doctor is firm, and painstakingly shows the man all of the test results and explains why they are conclusive.
“Well, I am not going to be castrated,” the man says.
“Very well,” says the doctor, “you’ll just have to go on living with agonizing migraines.”
A week later the man returns to the doctor and says that he would rather live without migraines than with his testicles. The doctor concurs, and says, “I have a grief counselor on my staff. Why don’t you speak with her before surgery? I’m sure she can point you in a healthy, comforting direction.”
The grief counselor says, “Don’t think of it as the end of something, but as the beginning of something. As soon as you are released from hospital, you should get a whole new wardrobe, something bright and cheery, and face the world as a new person.”
So the man leaves the hospital determined to cheer himself up with a new wardrobe. He’s walked about 100 yards when there across the street is the sign
Mo the Tailor, Suits Made to Order. The man enters the shop and there’s Mo, a small, elderly man wearing a gorgeous suit.
“I’d like the same outfit you’re wearing,” says the man. “It’s fantastic. The suit, the shirt, the shoes, the socks, everything.”
Mo says, “Okay, the your size is jacket 42 regular, slacks 37 waist and 32 1⁄2 inseam, shirt is neck 16 1⁄2, sleeves 33, shoes are 13 N.”
The man is astonished. “How can you know all that? You haven’t even measured me, but you’re absolutely correct.”
Mo shrugs. “I’ve been in this business 50 years. I can just look at a man and know his size exactly. I’ll get the fabrics from the back.”
Mo turns to walk away when the man says, “And I’ll take half a dozen pair of underwear to go with it.”
“Hah!” exclaims the man, “you’re wrong for once. I take size 36.”
Mo shakes his head. “That’s impossible. Size 36 would pinch your balls and you’d have terrible migraines.”
your body to take different measures.
HOW THE BODY ADAPTS (II)
(Issue #31)
If you get a piece of grit in your eye, your body adapts to the
discomfort by turning on tears in order to wash the grit away, and the sooner
the better. In the same way, your
body adapts to an extreme psychological situation by using tears and vocal
sounds as cleansing mechanisms. Whether produced by joy or sorrow, tears and
sobs release and remove a powerful emotion from the body where, if it were left
pent-up, the emotion would lead to physical discomfort or dysfunction.
On a more light-hearted note, you can work yourself into ill-health in
order to clear your desk in time for your vacation. You may leave for your
vacation feeling like something the cat dragged in, but on the morning of the
first day of that longed-for vacation, you feel like a million dollars, and
your body is more than up to the task of sudden exercise and exertion.
It is qi that promotes the effective functioning of the adaptive
power; it is, therefore, through the working of qi that physical health and
mental alertness are maintained and improved.
There is one more thing to be said about our natural adaptive power. Our
adaptive power responds both micro and macroscopically to a continuing barrage
of stimuli. This may be called dealing with the present. On top of all this, as if just
dealing with this barrage were not enough, the body is also dealing with the
past and with the future.
All of the events in our lives occur within a time continuum, and
therefore have a context. Let us return to last month’s car lifter, and put
that incident in perspective.
Her name is Liz Dunn, and she is a 64-year old widow living alone. Her
late husband was in the military, and died in a work-related accident eight
years before. Her only child, Charles, is 40 years old, and lives half-way
across the country.
Liz has a part-time job with a barely adequate salary, and so has been
financially dependent on her late husband’s military benefits. One day, about two weeks before lifting
the front end of the car, she received two communications: one a letter from
the Veterans Administration informing her that her benefits were to be reduced
by 12% in accordance with their cost-cutting measures; the second an air ticket
from her son, Charles, with a sweet note inviting her to spend Thanksgiving
with him and his family.
The note from the V.A. sent her into a tizzy of alarm. She lost her
appetite and had trouble falling asleep. At work, she found that rather than
concentrating on what she was doing, she was thinking about how to economize to
make ends meet. Sometimes her chest felt so tight that she could hardly
breathe, and that would induce brief weeping that relieved the strain.
At the same time, she looked forward to seeing Charles and his family,
though she hated to fly. It was not fear of flying that bothered her. It was
the physical discomfort of packing and unpacking and sitting around at the
airport and having her flight delayed or canceled and the cramped airplane
seats, and then waiting endlessly for her baggage at the other end.
From the moment the two communications arrived until the moment Liz saw
the traffic victim hit by the car, her body was adapting and adjusting to the
past stimulus of her bad financial news and to the future stimulus of her
impending plane flight, all the while adapting and adjusting to present
stimuli.
Her body was attempting to ameliorate the physical stress her tense
emotional state had produced so that she could continue to function in daily
life. At the same time, her body was adjusting itself to the idea of a
three-hour plane flight, so that it would be ready and resilient to make a
successful trip when the day came…
…when suddenly, an event exploded upon Liz’s present that called for an
instant adjustment. When the person had been saved and she released the car,
Liz’s body went immediately back to dealing with her past and future
adjustments, even as it adapted to the immediate change of events, i.e. great
physical strength was no longer needed and she had to relax.
Even as the body copes and responds to the present, it deals with the
legacy of the past and the promise of the future.
Apart
from the unexpected such as Liz encountered, we never enter into a situation
that our bodies have not already prepared for, nor, until there is a decisive
conclusion, do we ever stop adjusting to past events. When Liz boards that
plane, her body will not play catch-up, but will be fully prepared for the
flight. And unless Charles offers to make up the 12% pension cut, her
Thanksgiving appetite will not improve.
Qi For Pets (I)
(Issue #32)
The qi you project mirrors your current emotional state. If you
are agitated about finances or disappointed in love, your qi will
have those qualities, and you are unlikely to produce soothing
or healing effects when transmitting your qi. Your qi will be
hesitant, tentative and perhaps even agitated.
On the other hand, should you feel on top of the world,
relaxed, happy, and satisfied, your qi will produce highly
effective results in a short amount of time. In other words, qi
produced by worry, tension or agitation will likely produce
similar effects in others, while qi produced through relaxation
and benevolence will produce a soothing and tranquilizing effect
that is the first step to healing.
The trouble is that, what with the hustle and bustle and
tension in our daily lives, we are hardly aware of our current
emotional state. Certainly, we do not have a clear and focused
awareness of the degree of tension we are carrying within us. A
simple but trying forty-minute car ride from home to office can
produce an emotional state that colors the rest of the day.
Added to this is the desensitization that comes from living in
artificially controlled environments, and enjoying an unvarying
diet that bears no relation to the change of the seasons. No
wonder that we humans have but a meager awareness of the
strength, texture, and feel of our qi at any given moment. Other
animals, however, are extremely sensitive to the texture of qi,
and will give us an immediate and unequivocal response to the
qi we project. What follows is an interesting approach to
gauging your qi, and to bringing out the St. Francis in you.
Let us assume you have a pet. If you do not, you probably
know someone who has, and who would be happy to let you
spend a few minutes with it. The following exercise can be done
with either a dog or a cat. I have found cats respond more
quickly and demonstrably than dogs, so for the purpose of my
example, I will use a cat.
Access your qi and, having done so, look for your cat.
Chances are it will be sleeping on that one piece of furniture you
are forever shooing it off of. Do not be annoyed, or the
experiment will be doomed to failure.
Remember: cats were placed on Earth to test our patience and
qualifications for sainthood.
Sit in a comfortable position on a couch or in an easy
chair…anywhere that you and the cat can feel relaxed together.
You may be listening to soothing music or watching TV.
If possible, keep your back straight, but this is not absolutely
necessary. It is more important to have both you and the cat
resting comfortably.
Place the cat on your lap. Give it a minute to situate itself and
fall into that twilight world of restful cat life. Place one hand (the
right hand if possible) on the cat’s spine. The palm may be either
horizontal or vertical to the spine, whichever suits your posture.
I have found the horizontal position more natural and more
comfortable to maintain. Try and keep the hand resting lightly,
and away from the cat’s head.
Look at your hand on the cat’s spine for a moment. Then,
inhaling quietly through the nose, exhale through the palm of
your hand and into the spine of the cat.
There is no need for any visualization. Simply feel your breath
leave your hand and enter the spine of the cat. Your qi will be
flowing out steadily into the creature’s body. Maintain a steady,
comfortable rhythm of breathing.
By your third breath, the cat will be aware of your qi. Most
cats respond by the second breath, and indicate this by a large
twitch. Now comes the test.
If your qi is agitated or tentative or abrupt, the cat will react at
once, sometimes by bristling and even snarling. Fur standing on
end is a sign of extreme displeasure. Most cats react to a
disturbance in the qi with a small shriek, jump off your lap, and
rush out of the room.
The cat’s reaction to soothing and steady qi is the complete
opposite. It will begin to purr and lapse into an apparent kitty
coma. At this point, you will probably spend the next ten
minutes considering how to extricate yourself without disturbing
this picture of Perfect Bliss.
The cat’s reaction to your qi is in no way an evaluation of the
general properties of your qi. It is an indication of your present
mood or state of mind. You may try the exercise six days in a
row and get a different reaction each day.
My cat, Basil, and I do qi training almost every night before
bed. He is now a veteran of the qi experience, and swings
between being a qi junkie and a qi connoisseur: some nights he
just needs a fix, and other nights he evaluates qi critically.
Because he reacts with violent displeasure to any disturbance in
my qi, I put myself into a relaxed and bonhomous state of mind
before putting hands on him. I find that I cannot watch the late
news and satisfy Basil. The news is usually too disturbing. So,
listening to music, I put qi into Basil’s spine, which soothes both
of us, and we sleep the better for it.
QI FOR PETS (II)
(Issue #33)
A skilled but eccentric gentleman with whom I studied qi in Japan claimed to practice on his fish. He had a small pond with koi (carp) in his garden. He would place his hand under water and send qi throughout the pond, giving each fish a pretty good dose. He maintained that the qi tranquilized them, and that they would swim in slow ecstasy. I never witnessed this and only put it forward for future experimentation. My own experience with fish was quite the opposite.
It happened when our son was in pre-school. We went to his school carnival, and I lost sight of him in the crush for about a minute. During which time, he succeeded in achieving the unthinkable: he won a living prize at a rather difficult pitch-and-toss event.
This prize was a tiny goldfish in a small plastic bag with about enough water in it to wiggle its wee tail. This prize package had been standing in 106° sunlight most of the day, and the fish looked poached. Seeing the shock and sadness in my eyes, the prize giver sought to console me.
“Don’t worry,” said the fish lady, “these fish are guaranteed to die within three days.”
Our son named the fish Goofy, declared he loved it more than anything in the world, and brought it into the house to live with him forever.
We got Goofy a little fishbowl and a lot of fresh water. On the third morning of Goofy’s arrival, our son woke us up to say that Goofy had stopped swimming, and was sleeping on his side at the bottom of the fishbowl. Sure enough, Goofy was looking like a flounder that had just suffered a coronary. I prodded him, he seemed dead, and I went to get the net to scoop him out and inter his remains in the toilet.
“Oh, do something, Mama, do something,” our son implored my wife.
Rising to the drama of the moment, she stuck her finger in the fishbowl, aimed at the lifeless Goofy, and began sending qi for all she was worth. I cupped the bowl with both hands, and felt her qi swirling in the water. Now comes the amazing part.
Goofy remained inert for at least a minute. My wife and I were giving up hope when all of a sudden, he swam straight up to the top of the tank and leapt out of the water like a rocket!
That fish leapt and dove and swam in circles like a hooked marlin. There was nothing tranquil or mellow about his reaction. He swam to the side of the fishbowl and stared at my wife as if memorizing every line on her face.
Goofy returned from the (near?) dead by means of qi, I am sure of it. He returned (or turned out to be) a female, and so our son, being a Francophile, renamed her Gaufée.
Gaufée grew to be about seven inches long with a beautiful gossamer tail and fins. She lived for six years following her “coronary”. Therese had only to enter the room for Gaufée to swim to the side of the bowl and stare out at her. She then leapt out of the water, my wife shot her a little qi, and she was happy in her tank the rest of the day, a very animated fish.
In short, your pets being living creatures, they possess the same features of qi as yourself. You should feel no hesitation to use your qi for the on-going health of your pets, or to get them over an illness, or help them to heal after an accident or surgical procedure. And remember: the more you love your pet, the more likely and able you are to help them when they need you. Your qi will be so well-intentioned and focused that your treatment, however clumsy, will be effective.
HOW DIVINE!
A QI PERSPECTIVE
(Issue #34)
Those who are occupied in the restoration of health of others, by the joint exertion of skill and humanity, are above all the great of the earth. They can even partake of divinity, since to preserve and renew is almost as noble as to create.
Voltaire 1776
What has always piqued my interest about this quotation is the phrase restoration of health. Voltaire links the word with the infinitives to preserve and (to) renew. Preservation and renewal of what? Of health only, or are there more expansive implications?
It is also intriguing that he insists that the exertion of humanity will make one divine. We do not need a spark of divinity within us to be divine. We need to use to the utmost the humanity we are born with. On the surface, this is a little like Blake’s if a fool persists in his folly/he will become wise, meaning to use to the utmost what you are given. The difference is that, in Blake’s world, there are many fools, and they do not persist in their folly because they are fools; whereas in Voltaire’s world, there are few people exerting humanity to restore health. Today I will consider how these ideas are relevant to my work.
The Japanese greeting for ‘how are you?’ is genki desu ka. Genki （元気）means ‘pristine ki (qi)’ or ‘the ki you are born with’. The deeper meaning of the greeting is thus: ‘is your qi today the qi you were born with?’, ‘do you have your original qi?’.
Genki is more than just health. It is a state of vigor, verve, and well-being. An athlete who performs poorly is not genki, and an athlete who performs well is very genki. Waking up with a sense of optimism and a wish to go out and meet the day is genki. Wanting to lie in bed and let the day pass without you is not.
My feeling about genki is that we are born with a transparent qi that is all-inclusive. Over the years, our qi becomes less and less transparent, and more and more translucent, finally becoming opaque as we acquire layer upon layer of, well, Life. This has the effect of numbing or dulling our senses and our health. The ideal of Zen Buddhism is to return the qi to its original transparency by means of zazen (Zen meditation) culminating in satori. The ineffable insight of satori (enlightenment) renews and preserves the qi we were born with. It is the quintessential mind/body experience.
We have no idea how a newborn or infant really sees the world. The lens of the newborn’s eye is perfectly clear. Scientists speculate that newborns perceive the world in intensities of brightness; all that they behold is luminous. By the time we are old enough to remember our first sights, we have already lost the purity of our lenses. The colors around us that we perceive as “normal” are actually different from what we would see with a pristine lens. Our perception has become clouded over. Hence Blake’s assertion that “If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.” We need to restore and renew our vision. The successful Zen practitioner has perfectly clear doors of perception.
Which brings us to our ‘original qi’. Qi is universal. All living things possess it. Qi is also specific in so far as each of us has his/her own. According to Noguchi, the founder of the Seitai Association, our individual qi comes from the way each of us meets gravity. Our bodies can move in ten different ways: up, down, forward, backward, left, right, twist left, twist right, open, close. We are born with a certain bias toward one of these movements, and this bias is directly responsible for our personalities and behaviors. He was in agreement with Freud who wrote anatomy is destiny. Noguchi provided details as to why this is so. The way your feet meet the ground determines how your body weight is distributed. Check the soles of ten people’s shoes to see the differences in distribution of body weight. Your relationship with gravity and this effect on your total movement is what creates bias, and accounts for the type of qi you have and how you use it.
Noguchi called this bias taiheki (体癖), and designated ten types and two sub-types. Taiheki literally means ‘body habits’. It was Noguchi’s strong contention that taiheki is unchanging and unchangeable. The way taiheki shapes your qi is what makes you you. It accounts for personality traits and characteristic behavior. (Noguchi had a thriving matchmaking practice, evaluating potential couples’ compatibility on the basis of their mutual taiheki.) Today, there are a number of practitioners who disagree with Noguchi, and believe that a person’s taiheki can be, if not completely changed, at least modified. There is not one, however, that does not believe in taiheki and its influence on qi.
We are created with a certain taiheki. We are created with a certain quality of health. You cannot become healthier than you are capable of becoming. You have to play the hand you are dealt. You can be taken from an unhealthy environment to a salubrious one and feel the better for it. Your health quotient has been given the opportunity to fulfill its potential. Still, there is a limit to how healthy, strong, intelligent, and funny you can be. What a good qi practitioner will attempt to do is to restore you to your pristine qi so that you can make new again your life. A good qi treatment will put you in touch with your original qi. If your health, strength, intelligence, and humor are operating at half-speed, the treatment should bring you up to full speed, and give you a renewed sense of optimism about yourself and, well, Life.
Most people come for treatments to get rid of a specific problem, usually pain. This was my case thirty years ago. I was in so much pain that I didn’t care if my qi was pure or impure, black or white, or even existed for that matter. Just get me out of pain. It took me a couple of years to figure out that Mrs. Matsuura got me out of pain through qi, and had been trying to restore me to, and then preserve, my original qi in order to accelerate the healing process and make me happy.
A person in pain wants immediate relief. No one comes to see me as a first choice. SIKE Health is, if I estimate conservatively, about the fourteenth stage of the Via Dolorosa to healing. We are the Chapel of Lost Hope. Or maybe Last Hope. First interviews require delicacy and tact to get the information I want. I have to take the measure of the person, try and get a handle on their personality, assess their qi, and relax them before I can really get down to work. If you are a good listener and an incisive questioner, most people will tell you exactly what is wrong with them. It saves wasting time and energy following your own preconceptions of what is ‘really’ the problem.
I want to know what people were like before their pain, so that I can return them to that status. This requires more than a mechanistic approach of adjusting, tweaking, pulling and prodding. It requires an appeal to their humanity through my own. Their qi has become degraded through pain, and has to be renewed just as much as the physical obstacle to a pain-free life has to be removed.
Not everyone comes for pain. Some people say, “I don’t feel comfortable in my body.” Time to restore their qi. Others say their zest for life is diminished. Time to restore their qi. A few people complain of a diminished sense of taste, and therefore a loss of pleasure with food. Time to restore their qi. And many many people are troubled by poor sleep and/or anxiety. Time to restore their qi.
I may have once or twice saved someone’s life. I don’t know for sure. I have restored and renewed many people to their true pre-pain, pre-degraded qi selves, through the exertion of skill and humanity. I have often been called a ‘lifesaver’ for that.
Let me tell you, the feeling is divine.
ABOUT THE SIKE TECHNIQUE
(Issue #35)
The SIKE Technique is a modality to induce physical change by means of stimulation. For example, you can get the stomach to expand or contract by stimulating the sixth thoracic vertebra. The stimulus itself is, of course, qi. If the stimulus is applied properly, a bloated stomach will contract, improving digestion; a tight stomach will expand, improving digestion. The application of the technique is a conscious design, and so the SIKE Technique differs from kiryu which is based on the unconscious flow of qi through the body. SIKE is applied according to a plan based on a careful view of the individual and his/her body.
You consciously apply a stimulus to induce the body to move in a certain direction. It is analogous to golf. Depending on the placement of your ball in relation to the hole, you choose a certain wood or iron, you carefully plan a swing designed to send the ball straight, to the left or right, to curve, to have a certain speed, to have a certain trajectory, to have a certain spin, etc. In other words, careful observation of the situation leads you to make a considered judgment. Then you use your concentrated skill to execute that judgment.
Successful SIKE depends on the practitioner’s judgment of using a variety of stimulation techniques to restore the patient to health. The overriding consideration must be how the patient is likely to respond to a single stimulus or a combination of stimuli.
The essence of Japanese art is the removal of all superfluous and extraneous movement. Whether it be Tea Ceremony, calligraphy, or swordsmanship, the object is to pare the art down to the bone so that only the essential movement remains, leaving both beauty and efficiency. The same is true of the SIKE Technique. The practitioner should seek an economy of movement. After each treatment, the practitioner should ask him/herself, “What could I have removed from that treatment to have improved its effect?” Each treatment aims for a gestalt that creates beauty of motion akin to Noh and Tea Ceremony. It should be an aesthetic pleasure to watch a good practitioner at work. The observer will be left with the same sensation of tranquil beauty as that experienced in the Noh Theatre or tea house.
APPLYING QI
Generosity of Spirit
There is a unity of intention and the effective flow of qi. The most potent qi is that which is generated and guided by a generosity of spirit. Regard for others is central to the efficacy of healing qi. In the words of William Blake, “The most sublime act is to set another before you.”
You cannot kill a person with qi. You can wish them dead as you transmit your qi, but qi will not make your wish come true. At worst, you will make the person feel anxious or nauseous. More probably, your qi will not be the least effective simply because it does not blend with the qi of the receiver. Just as it is next to impossible to transmit qi successfully to a mean-spirited person, so it is unthinkable that a mean-spirited person can generate effective healing qi.
On the other hand, wishing someone well as you transmit qi will work toward making him/her well. To have a loving thought in mind as you give qi enlarges and fortifies your qi.
You may also have a conscious intention of healing a specific ailment or treating a specific wound or blow. Intention is not the be-all-and-end-all of healing qi, but no amount of technical expertise or finesse can make up for a lack of good intention and generosity of spirit.
I never begin to give qi treatment without thinking of a loved person, living or dead, whose approval energizes me. I conjure up his/her face when I do my warm up exercises to access my qi, and imagine us breathing together. I feel a rhythmic union with the person, and dedicate my day’s work to that person. I work for that person’s approval by helping others on their behalf. Thus, I set out to do a day’s work with good intentions and a generosity of spirit.
Applying Qi
The application of qi depends on the size and location of the area to be treated. There are three fundamental ways of giving qi: through the fingers, through the hands, and through the circular area at the base of the forefinger.
Touch the base of your forefinger and you will feel a round, prominent bone. This bone is the center of a small circular area that is highly effective for transmitting qi. In traditional Japanese martial arts, it is known as “the fourth point,” and, when applied effectively, creates a lot of pain. In traditional Japanese healing arts, it is called “the tranquil point,” and when applied effectively, alleviates pain. I like to refer to this point as the “heart” of the hand for the transmission of healing qi.
Remember: whenever you transmit qi, be sure to begin and end on an exhalation.
When you begin to give qi, the spot that is receiving it will begin to feel warm under your fingers in under a minute. It may even feel as if, rather than you giving it the qi, the spot is taking the qi from you. The sensation is as if your qi is being quickly sucked out of your fingers or hands.
In a minute or two, the sensation of warmth will reach its peak and then plateau out. Once the plateau has been reached, the area will begin to cool down. In another minute it may actually feel cold to the touch. This means that the spot has absorbed all the qi it can, and it is pointless to try and force more qi into it. It would be like adding water to a saturated sponge. Remove your fingers on an exhalation, and wait at least an hour before attempting to give qi to the same spot.
Qi is not magic. The giving and receiving of qi involves physiological processes. Therefore, rather than “go for the home run” and attempt to eliminate pain at a single go, attempt to hit a single or a double, meaning the alleviation of pain. The qi will continue to work at the cellular level after you have removed your hands, and the pain may later be eliminated.
Remember: healing with qi is like cooking with microwaves---the process continues even after the current is turned off.
CULTIVATING THE IMAGINATION
A central tenet of the SIKE Technique is that it is important to feel that you are helping another cultivate his/her life by touching her heart or mind. Pain and illness are debilitating. They make people feel closed and small. We try to instill a feeling of widening, deepening, and heightening a person’s powers of imagination in order to bring them some pleasure while they are passing though an unpleasant situation. The easiest way to do this is to present an optimistic picture of the person’s future, i.e. a future without pain and with health and structural integrity. Just to imagine a pain-free life in the not-too-distant future stimulates the person in a healthy and positive direction.
The imagination cannot be discounted as a tool for healing. Where the body is concerned, no amount of will power can raise your pulse rate by so much as a beat, or cause you to shed a single tear. However, use the imagination, and you can bring about changes in the circulation of the blood, bring forth tears, encourage the secretion of gastric juices, and constantly direct the body’s workings in various ways.
ANGER AND THE BODY
(Issue #36)
Anger has a corrosive effect on the body. If anger persists, it can be fatal by causing a breakdown in the healthy functioning of the organism. Below are two case histories of the effects of anger.
Alma
Alma was 78 when I met her. She was a large woman who spoke English well with a strong Polish accent. She had a number tattooed on her forearm, so I knew she was a Holocaust survivor. Her complaint was that she had lost five of her six sensations of taste; the only thing she could taste was bitter. She was paying for her granddaughter’s wedding at the Beverly Hills Four Seasons Hotel, and she wanted to be able to taste the food.
Her loss of taste coincided with the death of her husband three years before. The various doctors and psychologists she had consulted assumed that she was sad and despairing from the loss of her husband, and so had given her a variety of anti-depressants and mood elevators. These had only made her condition worse.
When I treated her, the first thing I felt was anger. Her qi was not flowing smoothly, and there was considerable heat coming from one part of her head, a sign that she had a negative repetitive thought. I felt her spleen, which was tender to the touch, another sign of anger. The qi in her spleen was not flowing smoothly, but was sharp, sort of like static electricity. I assumed that her anger had something to do with Hitler and the concentration camp.
I told her she was angry, and that her anger had contributed to her loss of taste. She gave a thin, sad smile, and said, yes, she was angry, but had not dared tell anyone about her anger. She was afraid the person would reproach her. She told me the following story.
She had been put into the concentration camp in 1942 when she was fourteen. There was a sixteen year old Polish boy already in the camp, and somehow, the two of them met, spent time together, and survived the war together. They were liberated in January 1945 by the American Army, and sent as displaced persons to Galveston, Texas. They did not speak any English, and found Galveston an unpleasant place to live, and an impossible place to make a living.
They hitchhiked to Los Angeles, got married, set up house in a small apartment, and went to work. She stayed up all night making sandwiches and other edibles, and her husband drove around to the movie studios and construction sites selling them. He was the inventor of the Roach Coach. They prospered.
She wanted to forget the Holocaust. He was a Holocaust witness. She would not talk about it at home, even to her children. He traveled the country bearing witness to the atrocities lest people forget or worse, dismiss it as irrelevant. They celebrated no holidays (“Not even Jewish holidays. I know we’re the Chosen People. I got chosen once, and it was enough.”). The only event they celebrated was the anniversary of the liberation of the camp in January. Alma would cook late into the night, join her sleeping husband, and the two of them would eat and enjoy themselves all the next day.
On the morning of the anniversary three years before, Alma awoke to find her husband dead in the bed beside her. He had died in his sleep of congestive heart failure.
“And this is why I am so angry. He left without saying goodbye. We survived Hitler, we survived the camp, we survived life as refugees, we created a new life and family. We did it together, always together. How could he leave me without so much as a goodbye?! I am furious at him. He left me without a word.”
I gave her the big red plastic baseball bat we keep for just such occasions, and told her to let loose on the pillow on the massage table. I discretely left the room. She bashed the pillow, yelling and hollering all the while in Polish. I got the gist without understanding a word. About ten minutes later, she was finished and highly energized. Her qi was flowing well, and her spleen was no longer tender to the touch.
She phoned me the next day to say that her taste had returned.
Caroline
Caroline hailed from the middle of nowhere somewhere in Iowa. Her nearest neighbor was three miles away. She slaughtered her own cows and pigs for meat. She raised her own vegetables. She worked in the office of a research lab. She was a devout Christian. She was thirty, thin, tall, had long lank pale hair, a pale complexion, and seemingly more teeth than could fit comfortably in her mouth. She was always smiling, turning the other cheek whenever she could, giving thanks for everything that came her way, and wishing everyone she met a beautiful day.
Her mother brought her out to Los Angeles to see me because the Mayo Clinic had told her she had only six months to live. She had taken out a second mortgage on her house to pay their bill. Her symptoms were scary.
Her strength had steadily declined to the point where she could no longer hold her job, and could not do any gardening or farm work. She could not keep food down and was losing weight. Her stomach always pained her. She suffered from insomnia. Her vision was deteriorating. She had lost strength in her legs, and had gone from a cane to a walker. Next was a wheelchair.
Asbestos had been found in the walls of the office where she worked, but tests, albeit inconclusive, ruled out asbestos poisoning. In fact, the tests ruled out everything, except the fact that she was going downhill fast. She had been told to go back home, and get as much out of what little life was left her as she could.
As in the case of Alma, Caroline’s body was full of anger. But this was anger of a completely different scale. She was literally consumed by anger. Her spleen was painful to the touch, and emitted a great deal of concentrated heat. Her head had an unusually dense concentration of qi at one location. Her upper vertebrae (T1-4) were locked together and protruding. Her T5-6 were buried somewhere in her back.
I told her she was very angry, and that that anger was the source of her problems. That unless she dealt swiftly and effectively with that anger, she probably would die as predicted.
She smiled at me and told me that she was not angry, that it was impossible for her to be angry, and that anger on the scale that I proposed was un-Christian. She was a very forgiving person, and to forgive was to rid oneself of anger.
I asked her to tell me about her family. She waxed rhapsodic about her young son and daughter. She said nothing about her husband. I asked if the marriage was a good one. She actually scowled. Well...it turned out he was an unsavory character. He ran a methamphetamine lab in the barn. He drank alot, and she was sure that he was trying to molest their daughter. He frequently beat the boy. One night he got drunk. stuck the boy on the handlebars of his motorcycle, and took off at high speed down the road. They ended up in a ditch in order to avoid a collision with a truck, and the boy spent three weeks in hospital with lacerations and contusions. She was not going to tell anybody that anything was wrong, not even her mother. She was trying to forgive him and prayed constantly that he would change for the better. She thought that separation and divorce would create a scandal, and be un-Christian. And then, he ran off with her first cousin, who just happened to be her next-door neighbor, even if next door was three miles away. The entire town knew about it, and she was sure she was the laughingstock of the church congregation. She was so embarrassed that she hadn’t attended church in months. She wasn’t just angry, she was volcanically angry.
After three treatments that got her stomach and legs working again, I told her to go back to Iowa, have her spleen checked, divorce her husband, and get a restraining order on him to stay away from the children.
She reported to me that her spleen had to be removed. The surgeon told her it looked as if half of it had been burned. She had informed the police of her husband’s drug activities, he had been arrested, and divorce proceedings were going forward. She was happy again, and all of her symptoms had vanished. She could now fulfill her lifelong dream of going to Paradise Cove in Malibu to eat fish tacos. Which Therese and I did with her and her mother three months later.
TREATING LOWER BACK PAIN
(Issue #37)
A first-time visitor to the Baptist Spine Center is greeted by the sight of a large exercise room, full of men and women of all ages engaged in just the sorts of activities that most people who suffer from back pain have been warned against: running on treadmills, lifting weights with their knees, stacking milk crates filled with steel bricks. In addition to the machines that one finds in an ordinary gym, there are specially designed “multihip” machines, back-strengthening machines, and a Roman chair, which braces your lower legs, knee-down, at a forty-degree angle from the floor as you attempt to hold up the rest of your body. Each patient’s level of strength and degree of flexibility are carefully monitored. Records are also kept of the patient’s capacity to execute ordinary activities: pick up a child, sit at a desk, have sexual intercourse. Each patient’s regimen is designed to make the muscles strong again, the ligaments elastic, and the vertebrae well supported.
Dr. James Rainville, who is the head of the Spine Center, explains to his patients that although their pain is debilitating, it is not a sign that they are doing themselves any harm. Like many rehabilitative physicians, he believes that chronic pain originally has a physical cause but that it may become magnified and imprinted along the sensory pathways of the central nervous system. The solution, Rainville thinks, is to try to change the sensitivity of the neurofibres by “reëducating them” through strenuous exercise. In fact, the more the patient exercises correctly, the higher his pain threshold becomes. The hope is that his sensory circuits will be rewired to transmit signals of the healthy aches of exercise rather than the terrifying pain of debility.
Rainville’s program of aggressive rehabilitation exercise has been supported during the past decade by prospective studies. A recent analysis of sixty-seven patients with long-standing back pain, nearly all of whom had had prior surgery or other forms of treatment, showed that the regimen improved physical capacity and reduced pain. Between twenty-five and forty per cent of the patients for whom performing flexion and extension maneuvers was painful when they entered the program were free from pain by the time they were discharged; the others experienced a marked reduction in the intensity of their pain. Still, Rainville argues, it will be impossible to properly compare the results of such nonsurgical interventions with surgery until both options are included in a well-designed randomized study.
Doctors often describe the treatment of lower-back pain as “an industry,” and as long as patients are confronted with an array of conflicting advice, that’s unlikely to change: the desperate patient sitting in the doctor’s office is especially vulnerable to the persuasive recommendations of whatever professional he happens to be consulting. Many patients report a worsening of their condition following surgery. It is not uncommon to experience a brief period of blessed relief from pain, only to have the pain return later, usually six months to a year following spinal fusion surgery. The returning sciatic pain can be more intense and intractable than pre-surgery pain.
Dr. James Weinstein, the head of orthopedic surgery at Dartmouth and a leading expert in back pain, believes that there needs to be a radical improvement in the way doctors approach treatment: patients must be given unbiased information on what is known and not known about back pain and the various ways of treating it. Instead of informed consent, Weinstein advocates what he calls “informed choice” -- a comprehensive understanding of all the options and their possible risks and benefits.
Weinstein is now leading the first prospective, randomized investigation of discectomy for ruptured lumbar disks to be conducted in nearly thirty years. This trial, which is sponsored by the National Institutes of Health, will cost more than thirteen million dollars. Even so, it will not address fusion surgery for chronic back pain; the participating physicians couldn’t agree on diagnostic criteria and forms of treatment. For the tens of thousands of patients facing lower-lumbar fusion each year, no rigorous, government-sponsored study is forthcoming.
In the meantime, Dr. Seth Waldman, who sees the consequences of failed fusions at the Hospital for Special Surgery every week, wishes that the medical profession could be persuaded to show a little restraint. “If you have a screwdriver, everything looks like a screw,” he said. “There will be a lot of people doing the wrong thing for back pain for a long time, until we finally figure it out. I just hope that we don’t hurt too many people in the process.”
Jerome Groopman, M.D.
Professor, Harvard Medical School
MF adds: As many of you know, I came to practice this modality through a debilitating bout of sciatica. X-rays showed two herniated lumbar discs, and the physicians assumed and assured me that this was the cause of my sciatica. I was recommended by four different orthopedic surgeons to have spinal fusion as the only way out of my problem. Fortunately, I met Mrs. Matsuura who healed me in an hour using her hands and qi. I took away many lessons from my experience, one of which is that many, if not most, people are walking around with herniated lumbar discs and never even know it. In other words, they feel no discomfort much less pain. I also learned that sciatica and sciatic symptoms frequently have nothing to do with herniated discs, but arise from a misalignment of pelvis or sacrum or coccyx or any combination of the three. One other epiphany was that no one has the faintest idea how nerves work, and that the “logic” of a linear progression of pain from the source down a distinct neural pathway, while elegant in its simplicity, is completely erroneous.
Qi will stimulate lower back muscles to separate the vertebrae enough for herniated discs to slip back into place. However, I have found in 80% of cases that the discs are irrelevant to the condition. The sacrum and pelvis need to be realigned using a lot of qi and a hint of muscle. Following this, the musculature of the lower back and legs needs to be realigned and re-educated as it were, in order to maintain the healthy configuration.
Apart from cases in which the back problem was induced by a fall or an attempt to lift a heavy weight without proper support, the onset of pain, though seemingly abrupt, has been a long time in coming. The body has done everything possible to keep the pain from coming. That means shifting weight distribution, and reconfiguring the musculature for months, possibly years. By this time, “muscle memory” has set it, and the body must exercise within the new configuration in order to maintain it. This accounts for the success of the Baptist Spine Center’s program, although the process is lengthy and depends on guidance and machinery.
Once we have realigned the muscles and bones of the lower back and pelvis, we present the person with a series of simple, effective exercises to be done at home daily. None of our exercises requires equipment. All exercises are based on strengthening the muscles using techniques from tai chi, aikido, physio-synthesis, and traditional Japanese chiropractic (honetsugi) that was developed to treat jujitsu injuries. The process is short and simple and requires almost no guidance. (to be continued)
TREATING LOWER BACK PAIN (II)
(Issue #38)
Americans are very pro-anti. We like anti-aging unguents, anti-wrinkle creams, antiperspirants, antibiotics, antipastos, etc. About the only anti we generally dislike is the Anti-Christ, though some are eagerly awaiting his advent to bring on the Rapture to Narnia. One of the few anti’s we lack, and which we have wished for since the days of Buck Rogers, is an anti-gravity device. Most people would like the device to release them from slavery to the pavement. Wouldn’t it be cool to float around at will? My feeling is that, had we an anti-gravity device, we would be free from lower back pain.
I believe that most lower back pain is a gradual accretion of stress due to poor posture. Yes, Grandma was right. Without lower structural strength and integrity to support the superstructure, stress has no where to go but to the lower back. When the back finally gives in to stress, pain begins. When I talk about lower structural strength and integrity, and I mean the feet, that part of the body that actually meets the pavement and puts you literally in touch with gravity.
Ideally, body weight should be distributed across the ball of the foot and the heel in the shape of a triangle. However, just watching a person walk, or looking at his/her shoes, you will see that people walk on the outside of the feet, on the balls alone (also called ‘toewalking’), or on the heels. This weight distribution is an affront to gravity, and gravity will have its way with you. Walking on the outside of the feet means that your weight will be supported by the muscles running on the outside of the leg, the so-called long muscles. Again ideally, the weight should be taken by the inner muscles, the short muscles, which support the superstructure with ease.
When a person does not walk heel-to-toe, which maintains the flexibility of the ankles and distributes weight throughout the ideal triangle, the muscles running from the ankle to the knee along the shin become tight and painful. When they become chronically painful, they are called shin splints, and can be crippling. Most people are unaware that they have pain along their shins until they press on the muscle with their fingers. Walking flat-footed, or with weight bias on the front or back of the foot, is like driving a car without shock absorbers. The lower spine gets jolted out of alignment.
Lower back pain begins from the ground up, starting with tight, inflexible ankles, moving up the leg through the shin muscles, and tightening up at the bottom of the inner knee. Now, here is where things get interesting. Instead of continuing moving up the inner leg, the stress jumps across the knee, and lands on the upper outside of the knee, then makes its way up the outer leg to the hip joint. The pelvis is pulled out of alignment, the sacrum tilts, and voila, you have lower back pain. You call SIKE Health, and we use qi to stimulate the muscles to realign the bones.
Once the pelvis has been aligned, and the sacrum is back where it should be, the pain goes away within 72 hours. However, muscle memory guarantees that the pain will return without a second or even third treatment, followed by a simple regimen of physical re-education at home.
The physical re-education consists of several things. 1) One should soaks one’s feet in hot water (about 102 degrees) to above the ankles for 3 minutes once a day. Twice a day is better at the beginning, but once will do. 2) Lying on the back, rotate the ankles in both directions for a minute a day. Putting strength into the big toe makes it easier to rotate the ankle. 3) Be mindful when you walk that you are walking heel-to-toe, even if it feels awkward or unnatural at first. Three other things that will keep you flowing with gravity are 1) keep your feet flat on the floor when you sit. Crossing your legs or having your heels up and your weight on your toes is a recipe for recurring backache. 2) Do the yoga position Child Pose daily. This is like a cat stretching its spine.
3. Do not bend over to lift objects. Keeping the back straight, squat
down, get hold of the object, and then stand up from the ground up rather than from the lower back up.
MOVE ON!
Circadian Cycles
(Issue #39)
All living things are in a state of constant movement. You are unable to stop the movement within you, and for good reason: it would kill you. The heart keeps beating, the lungs keep expanding and contracting, the spleen keeps processing red corpuscles, the neurons of the brain keep dying, etc. The body’s cells keep doing whatever it is they do, and the body’s atoms keep spinning, dying, and being recreated. Movement is good in that no alternative other than death exists.
Most people have a circadian cycle (also called a body clock) that runs on a 24-hour timer. The cycle moves the body through changes without your having to think about it. What follows is a brief overview of a typical cycle.
Early Evening: The core body temperature begins to drop 4 to 5 hours prior to bedtime. An hour or two before bedtime, the core temperature drops sharply, which stimulates the pineal gland to release the sleep-inducing hormone melatonin.
The early evening drop in core body temperature produces four other effects: 1) the stomach produces more acid 2) blood pressure begins to drop 3) urinary output increases 4) the body’s pain threshold reaches its lowest point about 21:00, meaning aches and pains are felt more keenly. Take pain medication about 20:00 to avoid this.
Nighttime: 1) Sensitivity to allergens increases. 2) the body’s immune system strengthens due to an increase in the flow of interlukin 1. 3) Immune cells called helper T lymphocytes increase until about 1:00 a.m. 4) This is the time most pregnant women are likely to go into labor. 5) Levels of HGH (human growth hormone) reach their peak about 2:00 a.m. 6) Cortisol, an anti-inflammatory hormone, reaches its lowest levels after midnight. 7) Pro-inflammatory and spasm-producing compounds called leukotrienes reach their highest levels late at night. This accounts for the majority of severe asthma attacks occurring between 3 and 4:00 a.m. If you are prone to asthma attacks, do not eat sweets before bedtime, because this weakens the adrenal glands which are necessary to avoid such attacks.
Morning: Assuming you do not sleep in a crypt or a coffin, light begins to hit your eyes, stimulating the retina. The retina sends a signal to the suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN), wherein the body’s biological clock is kept. The SCN sends signals to the pineal gland informing it that it is time to wake, and so reduce the output of melatonin. As the melatonin decreases, this stimulates the following: 1) core body temperature begins to increase.
2) Insulin levels fall to their lowest point, and levels of the adrenal hormone cortisol begin to increase. 3) Heart rate and blood pressure begin to rise quickly. Ingesting caffeine will accelerate the rise. 4) In women, the pelvis relaxes, and so menstruation tends to begin early in the morning. 5) Levels of the helper T lymphocytes of the immune system decline at this time.
Midday: 1) The muscles expand to their utmost, the spine elongates, and the body is at its maximum height. 2) Natural killer cell activity accelerates. 3) Blood hemoglobin levels peak.
Afternoon: 1) Body temperatures begin to cool down. Many people experience a sense of drowsiness as a result. 2) By mid-afternoon, airway openings are at maximum extension, and breathing becomes easy. 3) The body’s reflexes are at their highest level of performance, and your natural strength reaches a peak.
Once More With Feeling
DRINK LOTS OF WATER!
More data in from clinical studies:
About 75% of all Americans are chronically dehydrated.
In 37% of Americans, the thirst mechanism weakens to the point where it is often mistaken for hunger. Weight gain results.
Even mild dehydration will slow the body’s metabolic rate as much as 3%.
One glass of water before bed shuts down midnight hunger pangs in over 95% of dieters studied.
Dehydration is the primary trigger of daytime drowsiness and fatigue.
Drinking 8 glasses of water daily significantly eased back and joint pain in 80% of subjects.
Drinking even 5 glasses of water daily decreases the risk of colon cancer by 45%, and reduces the risk of bladder cancer by 50%. Early data indicate that it also reduces the risk of breast cancer.
For those of you who avoid drinking water in order to lose weight, you are living in a fool’s paradise. The body needs a certain amount of water in order to function, and will retain as much water as it needs. If fresh water is not forthcoming, it will retain the old water, which is not healthy. People come to see me complaining of pain along the inside of their thigh; women, especially, complain that one thigh is swollen. I have them increase their water intake, and the “problem” vanishes. The body will retain fluid in the thigh if not enough fresh water is forthcoming, and the urinary tract will tighten, causing the discomfort along the inner thigh.
THOUGHTS AT YEAR'S END 2010
(Issue #40)
“Sometimes one can do nothing to help a person, and the sight of so much suffering is painful. A man should not only have his own way as far as possible, but he should only consort with things that are getting their own way so far that they are at any rate comfortable. Unless for short times under exceptional circumstances he should not even see things that have been stunted or starved, much less should he eat meat that has been vexed by having been overdriven or underfed, or afflicted with any disease; nor should he touch vegetables that have not been well grown. For all these things cross a man; whatever a man comes in contact with in any way forms a cross with him which will leave him better or worse, and the better things he is crossed with the more likely he is to live long and happily. All things must be crossed a little or they would cease to live—but holy things have been crossed with nothing but what is good of its kind.”
Samuel Butler, 1903
The Jewish sage, Hillel, was challenged to expound on the essence of Judaism while standing on one leg. He raised his leg, said “Compassion”, and lowered his leg. The Hebrew word rachmones (compassion) is derived from the root word for “womb”. Compassion is the feeling of a mother for the child in her womb. It is a feeling of love, of nurturing, of protecting, of sustaining, and of responsibility. These feelings, both individually and in a blended unity, are what Hillel meant in the single word “compassion”.
We usually use the word as a limited sense of sympathy or pity for the unfortunates of the world, both human and other. A dog hit by a car or an elderly parent requiring caretaking bring out the compassion in us. This is a fine and decent spirit. However, the quality of compassion that we, in the spirit of Hillel, posit is not limited to the unfortunate and piteous. Compassion extends to all. ..it is universal in scope and application. It applies to the universe itself and everything within it. If everything derives from the same Creation, then everything is worthy of our compassion—our sense of responsibility for doing no harm, our wish to sustain and nurture the good and joyous, and our protection of everything in creation from depredation, degradation, and destruction.
When we attain the true spirit of compassion, we feel the unity of the universe and the divinity that informs it. We are no longer fragmented. We are part of a whole that we sustain and are sustained by. We are active in our spirit, and have the clarity of vision that all that we behold is full of blessings. We fall in love…with ourselves, with others, and with the universe that sustains us. It is the happiest and holiest of feelings.
For true love is a fire
In the mind every-burning;
Never sick, never old, never dead,
From itself never turning.”
Basil Lechat
1993-2011
He put the Ki in Kitty
Issue #41, February 2011
The 1994 Northridge earthquake devastated our home and neighborhood. It had taken months to have repairs done, and the streets and yards were still littered with bricks, debris, and other souvenirs of the quake. Rebuilding the walls between the properties was a special nightmare as the homeowners refused to club together and work in concert. Some people wanted completely new, bigger and better and more elaborate walls, while others wanted to restore the fallen walls. Without walls, animals of all types wandered in and out of properties. Sometimes, watching in the late afternoon, I felt I was witnessing some great African migration of stray pets, earthquake orphans, and dispossessed feral animals such as opossums, raccoons, squirrels, and mice.
I found Basil in a patch of basil in the herb garden of our yard. He was sitting in the middle of it, calmly, even serenely, not saying anything, but paying attention to me. He seemed to know me. He had the look and coloring of the famous tiger drawn by Hokusai. I commented to Therese that there was a very pretty cat in our basil patch, and forgot about him. The next day he had left the patch and moved about a foot closer to the house. The next day he had moved another foot, and the following day yet another foot, until after 10 days, he was lying in front of our rear door, and we had to step over him to get outside.
Then one day he was not there, and I fretted. He returned the following day, but his left hind leg had been bitten in half, and the lower half was dangling painfully. We took him to the vet, had him restored to health and converted to infertility, and brought him home to live with us. We never regretted it.
The only trouble we ever had with Bas was not so much trouble as being inconvenienced by Bas’s concern for Corin. Two days after Corin was born in the hospital, we brought him home, wrapped in swaddling and packed tightly into a car seat. I put the car seat on the floor of the family room, and then went back to the car to help Therese into the house. When we entered, Basil was circling the car seat, and sniffing at the bright pink face in the center of it. When, suddenly, Corin sneezed. Bas did a double back flip, cowered for a moment, then walked back to the car seat and made obeisance. He became Corin’s loyal retainer and protector.
So, to return to the trouble...Basil clearly found us incapable of truly taking care of our child, because he always guarded him, and stood lookout at his room window whenever Corin was in his crib. Basil looked perplexed and sometimes forlorn when we would take Corin in his pram to the park. I never paid much attention to it, but occasionally, a dog would walk past the pram and touch it, or stick his nose into the pram, or in some way have a brief relationship with the pram. I would bring the pram home, remove Corin from it, and while I was placing him in his crib or summer seat, Basil would spray the entire pram. I mean, this cat would cut loose, and we would have a tomcat stench that would keep a troop of devils away. I finally had to remove Corin from the pram in the garage, and lock the pram away before Basil could smell it.
Basil loved qi, and was eager to sacrifice his body to our ministrations. He would sit on my lap and I would put qi into his spine while I watched television. He would slip into a kitty coma. But if there was a violent or brutal news segment, my qi would be agitated, and Bas’s fur would stand on end, and he would jump off my lap as if he’d been prodded by an electric shock. He loved to come into the treatment room while we worked, and soak up the energy with a goofy look of ineffable squiffiness. Only one client in 17 years, a woman who claimed to be a devout cat lover, resented and complained about Basil’s presence in the room. She seemed to think he was poaching her qi, like someone stealing your wi-fi. She wanted it all to herself. Obviously, the woman had to go...
Basil loved to pose, frequently unconsciously. He would assume a pose--sitting erect with tail wrapped around his front paws--that was either worshipful, demanding worship, or both. The family’s favorite pose was when Basil fell asleep on his back with his front legs stretched over his head and his hind legs outstretched beyond his tail. This was his ‘flying‘ pose, and someone grabbed a camera whenever we caught him at it. We have about 400 photos of him in that pose. Clients brought cameras to photograph Bas, who was always obliging. Not that he bowed, smiled, or offered autographs. He was patient when the person would wander around him looking for the perfect angle, and then set off a flash in his eyes. He frequently sat on Therese’s lap while she was working on computer, and would enjoy seeing photos of himself. They made him purr.
He retained his kittenish qualities until old age. We hardly noticed he was aging until he began losing fights. Young, mean strays would wander through the yard and Basil, vigilant as ever, would go toe to toe with them in his ongoing effort to protect Corin. He would come in with bite marks and lacerations to his face which showed that he never ‘turned tail‘ and ran. Unfortunately, the results of his bravado sometimes turned into abscesses which we all regretted.
Basil had his own kitty theater, which was watching the birds feeding from the outdoor feeder dangling overhead from an eave. The feeder was placed in front of a large picture window for us to enjoy the bird show. Basil would hunker down in a corner for minutes on end, watching the birds feed, and probably counting their numbers. When the feeder was quite covered with birds, he would leap up and shout. The birds would be flustered, and one or two would flying straight into the transparent window with a clunk and fall to the ground. Basil would be on the bird in a flash, and we had to rescue numerous birds. Then Basil would pout and get sullen, however, having no long term memory, he would be his old self again in minutes. We knew he was aging when he stopped taking an interest in birds. They would fly right over him, and he would not even lift up his head to frighten them.
That was his condition when we moved to our new home near the Santa Monica Mountains 18 months ago. We went from being in a built up neighborhood to being in the wilds with predators on the ground and in the air. Bas had to become an indoor cat. He would pace in front of the french doors, staring out sometimes eagerly, sometimes morosely. Therese took pity on him and got him a leash so that she could walk him around the grounds. Bas would be champing on the bit to get out of doors, but as soon as he was taken outside, he would fall on the ground and go to sleep. If Therese tried to rouse him into movement, he would complain, and so she would bring him indoors. At which point he would slip his leash and run away. We always found him somewhere on the lawn eating grass until he felt ill.
Basil was allergic to fish. Therese provided him a steady diet of home-made grilled lamb, chicken, and turkey, which he enjoyed and thrived on. In old age, he wanted fish more than anything, and he was given fresh tuna, salmon, shrimp, and any other expensive item we could find. We knew the end was approaching when he started snubbing shrimp.
Basil died in his sleep on February 2. We made a little mini-chapel to hold him until Corin got home from school. Then we buried him on our hill under the gingko tree. Corin planted African daisies on the grave. There is a dead tree on our other hill facing the gravesite, and Corin decorated it with paint, colorful string, placards, and Basil memorabilia as a totem to Basil’s soul. He had a large, engaging, soothing, and loving soul. He is sorely missed.

MIND AND BODY ARE ONE
Issue #42, April 2011
WHAT A DRAG IT IS GETTING OLD
‘Things are different today,’ I hear ev’ry mother say
Mother needs something today to calm her down,
And though she’s not really ill, there’s a little yellow pill
She goes running for the shelter of her mother’s little helper
So sang the Rolling Stones forty-six years ago, and things have only gotten worse. Not only do we have mother’s little helpers, but we now have father’s and children’s little helpers as well. I don’t know how prevalent anti-depressants are in, say, rural Indiana (although given the amount of meth-amphetamines manufactured in Indiana homes and barns, the residents seem in need of a pick-me-up), but in the state of California and other points I have visited in the past five years, it appears that there are more people juiced up on AD’s than not.
The last time I was in Texas, I was told by a toxicologist that the people in East Texas (Dallas/Ft. Worth, Houston, Waco) are so heavily medicated that their systems cannot absorb their daily dose of AD’s, and so large quantities of Fluoxetine (an SSRI) are being urinated into the sewage system which is unable to filter most of it out. The treated water is then sent into rivers and lakes, with the result that the fish are now under the influence of Fluoxetine. The fish are too stoned to mate, and too mellow to try and elude predators. Unsurprisingly, the fish population is dropping at an alarming rate which will change the balance of the entire ecosystem of East Texas. Oh well, it’s Texas...what the Hell...
For the past twenty-five years I have been translating medical research papers from Japanese into English for publication in professional journals. I have noticed with growing alarm the trend for psychiatric and pharmacological research to view human beings as little more than a chemical soup. A pinch of this, a dash of that, and, voila!, we have a new improved person. Or, if not new and improved, at least different and more tractable. It’s that simple.
I remember growing up in the 1950’s when words such as ‘brainwashing’ and ‘mind control’ and ‘mind manipulation’ were popular, frightening, and believable. The film ‘The Manchurian Candidate’, about a young American brainwashed by the communist Chinese into becoming an assassin, embodied those fears. We wanted our minds free, and the Commies were trying to control them.
Today, we pay goodly sums of money to physicians and pharmaceutical companies to do precisely what we were resisting from the Commies. And it is usually not about depression. True depression requires medical assistance because it is frequently a genetic disorder in which the chemical balance of the blood is skewed and needs to be put in order. I am not even talking about the sort of “depression” that Fritz Perls characterized as “anger and frustration directed inwards”, and that he and other Gestalt therapists successfully treated by redirecting that anger and frustration outwards. Those misdirected feelings are corrosive and sap one’s mental and physical energies, leaving one feeling “depressed”. Nor am I thinking about depression and anger in the elderly, which is a natural concomitant to reaching extreme old age, especially in those with progressive dementia.
I am thinking of the lack of energy, the blah feeling, the desire for a “pick-me-up” or “buck-me-up”, the wish to be spared worry and concern, the need to be able to cope with bad news or an unpleasant situation or any combination or variation of these feelings that are today regularly treated with anti-depressants. To put it another way, people go to their physicians asking for “happy pills”. AD’s are now provided as relief for marital conflicts, anti-social or oppositional child behavior, economic woes, poor school grades and a host of other non-depression issues. People just want to have their chemical soup heated and stirred in order to feel good. They want relief from their lives.
‘Life is much too hard today,’ I hear ev’ry mother say
‘The pursuit of happiness just seems a bore’
And if you take more of those, you will get an overdose
Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRI) (think Prozac, Zoloft, Celexa) and central nervous system stimulants (think Ritalin, Adderall) are the AD’s of choice today. I assume that, if they do not actually make a person happy, at least they cheer him/her up. However, the downside is considerable. These drugs are addictive. The common side effects are as follows (abridged): drowsiness, nausea, lower back or side pain, sores on lips or mouth, constipation or diarrhea, headache, anxiety, changes in sexual desire and function (not for the better!), insomnia, unusual weakness or tiredness, confusion, apathy, loss of appetite, etc. This is less than half the list. AND you are not allowed to drink grapefruit juice! Bummer!
Part of the reason for the prevalence of AD’s today is that physicians routinely prescribe them. On a personal note, when my mother moved to California from Florida and had her heart medications transferred to the supervision of a local physician, he added the AD Mirtazapine “as a matter of course”. When I said that she did not need an AD, he said that she would sooner or later, so why not start now.
A larger part of the reason is that people ask for them. One naturally wants to know why this should be. This is the question I am posing and will attempt to answer in this piece. What has caused the boom in the AD market, and are there alternatives?
The world is to much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
(Wordsworth, 1806)
In addition to getting and spending, we also have fighting and arguing and caregiving and living in a competitive society. Dog-eat-dog as some characterize it. If we do not lay waste our powers by ourselves, circumstances often lay them waste for us. It seems to me, then, that the reason people feel the need for AD’s is a sense of powerlessness and helplessness. They feel too weak to cope.
In Wordsworth’s poem, the reason for the malaise he describes is human beings’ detachment from Nature.
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
That was then. Today we have become so detached from Nature that Nature hardly matters. The problem now is that we have become detached from our own natures, and so seek to alter them with chemicals. We feel that, what with all the mental demands upon us, we deserve a respite that does not tax our strength, will, or time. Fair enough. But the price of that is a further detachment from our original self, not to mention the possibility/probability of the side effects mentioned above.
I once asked a young woman what she does when she feels blue. She said, “When I feel blue, I move my feet.” Good advice. The first thing one can do to energize oneself is to move. Going to the gym and engaging in repetitive movement is not good. Non-repetitive movements such as dancing, swimming, walking, hiking, running, martial arts, bicycling, golf, tennis, etc. will energize the body and give one a heady sense of self. Further, the goal of movement should not be “fitness”, but rather regaining the sensation of truly living in your body, or at least re-establishing a working relationship with it.
Remember the words of Joseph Campbell: The mind must submit to the humanity of the body.
The universe is all movement. Nothing is static. The atoms in our bodies move, the cells move, the bones move, the muscles move...it is when we get into a rut and stop moving, or else get into a rut and move in a mechanical, repetitive way that we experience a breakdown in the mind/body continuum.
Another thing to restore yourself to yourself is to practice kiryu on a daily basis. Kiryu replaces tension with relaxation, promotes mental clarity, stimulates the proper functioning of the organs, revs up the immune system, and generally sensitizes your senses. Things will taste, smell, touch, sound, and look better than you can remember they ever have. If you are unable to experience kiryu here with Therese and me, then an explanation of kiryu together with instruction on how to induce it is available in my ‘Qi Energy for Health and Healing’ book.
There is one last trick to energizing yourself. Think on the Zen story: A man went to see a Zen priest to complain about how hard his life was. “My mind is troubling me,” said the man, “Can you give me relief?” The Zen priest replied, “Give me your mind, and I will cleanse if of trouble.” The man realized that he had no mind to give, and was relieved.
Or think of the Elizabethan period riddle: My mind to me a kingdom is.
Question: Find the king.
Answer: The body is king.
Turn and return to your body. It will provide you relief.
ANNUAL HALLOWEEN ISSUE
October 2011, Issue #43
MF writes: Human beings have had since prehistoric times a speculation about, and fascination with, death. Life was then, indeed, “nasty, brutish, and short”, and it was natural for ancient peoples to ponder what came next rather than what was presently happening. Communing with the dead was the one sure way of getting information about the “other world”.
Whether the community was hunter, nomad, or agrarian, the cycle of birth, life, death, re-birth was a natural concomitant to the change of seasons. Season change meant watching the sky, and so astronomy quickly became an advanced “science” long before the word ‘science’ existed.
The ancients (as we do) marked the change of seasons with solstices and equinoxes, but reserved cross-quarter days, which fall midway between these events, for feast days. These astronomical events were imbued with magic and mystery, none more so than the time of year when departed souls returned to earth to rejoin the living for a brief communication. To the northern Europeans, the “bridge to the other world” (Yule) opened at the winter solstice. To the Chinese and Japanese, the spirits of the dead returned at the quarter day (Bon) between the summer solstice and fall equinox. To the Celts, the quarter day between the fall equinox and winter solstice (Samhain) was the day the world of the dead had access to the world of the living.
The Chinese and Japanese viewed the return of the dead as a benign and pleasant event. Even today, paper lanterns are lit to direct the spirits to food which has been prepared and set out for them. The Scandanavians lit fires to scare the spirits back to their world. The Celts set aside our present November 1 as the day to deal with the dead. People might be visited by supernatural powers or spirits, and many spent the previous night in burial mounds to commune with death in life. In Ireland, there are many legends of great heroes dying at Samhain.
The Catholic Church, determined to extirpate paganism once and for all, declared November 1 All-Saints Day, known as All Hallows Day in Britain. The common people, equally determined to preserve their tradition, celebrated Samhain the night before, which came to be called All Hallows Eve or Halloween. The Celts built bonfires and wore frightening masks and costumes in order to scare the spirits away. However, this is not the origin of our costumes and trick-or-treat.
As the feudal system declined in Britain in the 15th century, the Antwerp Entrepenôt--the largest wool market in the world—grew wealthy. The British landed gentry had traditionally allowed local peasants to use marginal land (“commons”) to graze their animals and grow subsistence food. In order to expand production of wool for sale in Antwerp, the gentry evicted the peasants and enclosed the commons for their sheep to graze. The Enclosures Movement saw the dislocation of thousands. A generation of homeless people was born. Civil unrest occurred as the esurient peasantry struggled to maintain life at a time when “sheep devoureth men”.
These homeless took advantage of quarter feast days to roam the countryside begging for food. Because Samhain followed the harvest, it was usually the most opulent and lavish feast day. There was a tradition for housewives to bake “soul cakes” for the dead. These seem to have been small fruit tarts. Bands of homeless would gather at Samhain, and walk through the countryside from home to home, asking for soul cakes. They disguised themselves, so as not to invite retribution from local authorities. They stood outside of homes and sang, “Good Mistress, please,/a sweet soul cake we pray./Apple, pear, peach, or cherry,/ anything to make us merry.”
The implied threat of violence should food not be forthcoming was not lost on the housewives, who usually handed over the cakes.
It is interesting to note that one of the most exciting and interesting events on a child’s annual calendar had its origin in death, persecution, turmoil, and fear. Our health and sanity depend upon us living through inimical events, be they physical or psychological, and coming out the stronger for the passage. My prolonged illness of 30 years ago has almost faded from my memory. I have now “legendized” it to the point where it glows as the happy opportunity to meet Dr. Matsuura and her qi, which in turn set me on this unexpected, strange, and rewarding path of hands-on health care.
HELPFUL HEALTH HINT FOR OCTOBER/NOVEMBER
Issue #43 October 2011
As the body continues slowly tightening up for winter from the ground up, this is the time to relax the neck, upper back, and extremities (especially the hands), and to increase tension in the lower back, which tends to become flaccid at this time of year. Many people report trouble sleeping.
A feeling of listlessness, fatigue, and even joint pain is not uncommon while there is an imbalance of tension between the upper and lower back. When the upper body tension is lowered and then restored to the lumbar vertebrae, there will be an increase in vigor and energy. The body will not be able to adjust smoothly to the change from hot weather to cold weather until the lumbar vertebrae, especially L3, have been strengthened.
From November, the body’s closing for winter becomes more rapid, and the body will be fully closed by the beginning of December. The skin is getting tight and losing moisture. The pores of the skin close from the feet upwards, and dryness will first be noticed on the shin and calf. By the end of the month, the scalp will get dry and flaky. Women, especially, will experience dry, flaky skin and should add oil to their bath water.
The waist and hips are also getting tight, and so the body loses some flexibility. Twisting and turning from side to side are not as easy as in a warm period. One arm is likely to feel dull and the shoulder blade on that side may get tight, even a bit achy. If this ache is accompanied by digestion problems, including acid reflux, it is a sign that the #5 and/or #6 thoracic vertebrae have twisted.
Finally, the lumbar vertebrae may feel tight, and the muscles alongside of them tender to the touch. Breathing tends to be shallow, and so sleep is not as deep and refreshing as in the warmer months. Using a humidifier will improve nighttime breathing, and provide a more refreshing rest.
THOUGHTS AT YEAR’S END 2011
December 2011, Issue #44
MF writes: My mother, Marty, is 87 years-old and profoundly demented. She becomes lucid and conversational from time to time, but never coherent. She is for the most part in a happy mood, enjoys a good appetite, is affectionate, and as far as she is physically able, cooperative with me and her caregivers. She knows me and Corin, but not who we are. We are variously her father, husband, brother, uncle, neighbor, childhood friend...anything but son and grandson. She knows that Therese has something to do with me. She is either my maid whom I lend to Marty, or Marty’s maid whom she lends to me. My mother is under the impression that all women are her maids.
For all of her seeming inertia and inattentiveness, Marty has a rich and full inner life. I believe physicists have identified 16 dimensions, 13 more than the three we are bound by in our quotidian lives. Marty inhabits those extra dimensions: she dances with neutrinos and converses with quarks. She tells me of universes she visits, of grand balls and banquets she attends, of swimming in warms pools of light, of movement and motion and time travel, of visiting with great souls of the past, and seeing into the future. As long as her spirit flows in the micro and macro cosmos, her three dimensions of wheelchair, diapers, and wheezing are minor obstacles to her contentment, easily overcome.
Marty lives in a bijou board-and-care residence about a mile from our house. There are four other residents, all of whom are also demented. Johnny, 94, is physically active. He dresses himself, toilets himself, loves to eat, and likes to try to take midnight rambles outside of the house. He has a vibrant, youthful voice, which expresses nothing but incoherencies. Dora, 90, bounced back from a stroke a couple of years ago, and though she can no longer swallow solid food, is the least demented resident. She will follow a conversation and try to make comments, but tends to forget the beginning of the sentence and so comments only on the end of the sentence. She thinks she was Miss Milwaukee of 1941, and is greedy for compliments of her beauty. Ynez, 89, used to be the residence greeter. She had no idea where she was or whom she was addressing, but anyone who passed her got an unexpected, florid greeting such as: “My, you are looking wonderful this fine day, and I am sure your health is as wonderful as you look.” She entered hospital three months ago, reasons unknown since she appeared robust, and returned to the residence eight days later unable to walk, speak, or feed herself. She is now in hospice care at the residence. I expect she will pass on in a month or so. Madeline, 89, sits in a wheelchair sucking oxygen, and stares into space. She rarely speaks. She has at least fourteen afflictions, and a battery of home health care nurses dances attendance on her. I believe a medical intern could spend a month with Madeline, and come away with a diplomate in Gerontology, so various and intense are her maladies.
Madeline spends most of her time in her room, but the other four spent their days in a large lounge. Marty sits on a couch facing a 70” television. Ynez used to sit next to her, but she is now unable to leave her bed. Dora sits in an easy chair off to Marty’s right, and likes to face the back patio, so that she has to turn her head back and forth to see Marty and Johnny and the television. Marty brought a large Eames easy chair and matching ottoman to the residence. Johnny fell in love with it, and made it his own. Marty never said a word about this because 1) she doesn’t remember it is her chair 2) it is too deep for her to get out of.
When the four of them spent their days together in the room, there was a palpable feeling of tranquility and harmony. Sometimes they dozed, sometimes they watched TV, sometimes they tried conversing with each other. Having no sense of past, present, or future, they live in an Eternal Present, and so each day’s meeting is the first. They got to know each other all over again every day. On some level that was not obvious, they communicated and enjoyed each other’s company. Dora knew that Ynez had gone, but Marty was not aware of it. However, she did say that the atmosphere of the lounge had changed.
Most of the time, their qi--their energy--was focused inward, and so there was an atmosphere of quiet contentment and tranquility. However, every now and again, the direction of the qi would change from inward to outward, and the room would be charged with happy energy. It might be Johnny chuckling to himself. Marty, Dora, and Ynez would begin to smile, then chuckle, then laugh, which in turn provoked Johnny to laughter. It might be Ynez humming to herself, which would start the others humming and singing and laughing. It might be Ynez, seemingly inert and unconscious, startling a visitor with a flowery greeting delivered in a mellifluous alto voice. The visitor would stammer, triggering a change in energy throughout the room. It might be one of the caregivers dropping a lunch plate with a crash that would galvanize them. There was always something audible, a stimulus of vibrations that, while negligible to me, brought their qi into alignment so that there would be a mass eruption of united energy.
Therese and I thought it would be a gift to Ynez, her sons, and the house to throw a party for her before hospice slapped a morphine patch on her, and she lost all awareness. To that end, we got the favorite foods of the elderly (which just happen to be Corin’s favorite foods), namely pizza, fried chicken, Caesar salad, cola, and a gooey sheet cake. Ynez’s son is a musician, and he and his friend provided some upbeat live music (two guitars and a keyboard which also did percussion).
The four residents (Madeline was not present) were not quite sure why artificial leis and beads had been put on them, and a fuss was being made over them. Johnny walked to table, the other three were wheeled, and all were impressed by the mountain of food laid out. They seemed pleased with the festivities, but it was obvious that the energy of each was directed inward, and there was no sense of shared experience. When suddenly, the musicians loudly launched into: Doo Doo Dee Dooo, Dee Dee Doo Da, Doo Doo Dee Doooo, Dee Dee Doo Da, AAH, (beat)
Purple haze all in my brain/Lately things just don’t seem the same/Actin’ funny but I don’t know why/‘Scuse me while I kiss the sky.
The effect was sensational. It was like the starting pistol shot at the Olympic 100 meters final, when all the sprinters leap out of the starting blocks as a single individual in a single motion. In an instant, the energy of the four was re-directed outward and aligned as a single living thing. Dora took off her lei and swung it over her head; Marty danced from the waist up in her wheelchair; Ynez smiled from ear to ear, and bobbed her head in time; even Johnny, committed trencherman, swallowed his food, put down his silverware, and rocked happily to the music. As they did so, the caregivers and family members caught the surge of united energy, and became bound up in the music and movement and happiness of the four residents.
And this is what was interesting: the energy felt like a heady sensation of happy purpose. There was a reason for the day, a reason for the party, a reason for us all to be there together, and the purpose was to forget our feelings of fragmentation and weakness, and be absorbed into a larger entity of unity and strength.
Now, I didn’t bring you all this way to introduce you to life at a senior care facility. The first riff of Purple Haze and the unity of purpose it induced made me think at once of the Occupy Wall Street movement. Here was a mass movement that overspilled the bounds of its original purpose, and spread throughout the country and the world. There was no financial backing of vested interests nor was there any so-called ‘grassroots’ organization. There were no period costumes to provide mutual recognition of a common cause. There was no charismatic leader. There were no thrilling speeches. There were no songs or anthems. OWS was a spontaneous efflorescence of a united energy which brought thousands of people together. Their qi was aligned.
No one could say what sparked the movement. Anyone who wasn’t petrified by the idea that thousands of geographically, ethnically, economically, and educationally disparate people could coalesce without an igniting spark or precipitating event understood what had aligned their qi: a hunger for social, economic, and political freedom and, if not equitability, then at least fairness. The right wing media and vested interests were disingenuous in pretending not to know what the OWSers were implicitly demanding, and so characterized them as unwashed agitators. It is one thing to call people names, but it is another to try and fathom the moment that united their energy. The right wing media and politicians have not even addressed what precipitated the mass movement, because the reason might be too fearful for them to contemplate.
As I write, most Americans did not, cannot, and will not understand the spontaneous alignment of qi that sparked the OWS movement. Nor do I pretend to understand the “moment” that set the movement off. I have no idea why the opening riff of Purple Haze would send four geriatrics and their families into a unity of movement and happiness. There was a stimulus that touched us all in that small room at that moment, and we were ready to follow its lead. From fragmentation to unity, from a sense of isolation to a feeling of belonging---this is the alpha and omega of aligning qi.
Thoreau wrote: It is said that the British Empire is very large and respectable...We do not believe that a tide rises and falls behind every man which can float the British Empire like a chip, should he ever harbor it in his mind.
Think what thousands can do should they ever harbor it in their minds.
It is a pity to do nothing, thinking that the actions of a single individual can produce no change. We are all responsive to some riff. We can all align our energies for some healthful purpose. Not that (honestly) earning tons of money is necessarily a bad ambition; but even while doing that, one can unite with Superman to battle for Truth, Justice, and --wait for it-- the (new) American Way.
THE ULTIMATE TRANSITION
February 2012, Issue #45
There have been several deaths of people close to me since the last newsletter, including the death of Ynez who resided with Marty in the bed and board.
No motion has she now, no force,
She neither hears nor sees,
Rolled round in Earth’s diurnal course
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
Kayoko Matsuura, the woman who healed me in 1981 and set my feet on the path to becoming a qi practitioner, died in 1986. She had a stroke in the summer of 1985 which left her paralyzed from the neck down. I visited her as often as I could. The last time I saw her she confided in me that she had decided to die. She had spent her life actively giving qi and helping people. Now she was confined to a meager margin of existence. Life was weakness, death was strength. Living was passive, dying was active. She was going to exercise her qi in the only positive way left her, by dying.
I did not understand her. I thought, perhaps, she was suffering some sort of dementia brought on by the stroke. At university, I had read Zen texts in which the ancient patriarchs sought eccentric ways to die. One died standing on his head, another shouted and dropped dead, another just stood still until he died. To me these were anecdotes of enlightened zanies that could not be confirmed or denied. How could someone decide to die? And more, how could anyone as feeble as she put that determination into action?
We said our good-byes. She clamped her jaws shut and armored herself in qi. Her jaws could not be pried open, and her body rejected all attempts at intravenous intervention. She died two days after our final farewell.
And now comes, perhaps, the best reason for practicing qi with those you love, admire, and wish never to leave.
The event occurred about eighteen months after my last qi treatment from Dr. Matsuura. I was looking for a new practitioner and teacher to replace her, and was recommended to a man who had a large practice and a formidable reputation. He put his hands on my head, and then on the base of my spine. After five minutes, he said, “You have a sharp, eccentric sort of qi. It reminds me very much of a practitioner I used to know, but haven’t seen for a few years. Her name was Kayoko Matsuura, and she had the sort of qi that once experienced is never forgotten. Have you ever received qi from her?”
Her qi lives on in me, and thus she lives on in me. Not as a memory, but as a palpable force.
Every day before I begin work, I think of people, living and dead, whom I admire and whose approval I seek, when I do my qi warm ups. I dedicate the good I will do that day to that person. I call this “dedicated qi.”
When I dedicate my qi to someone whose qi I know, and whose qi I have often felt, I can feel their qi entering me from some external abode. I feel a fusion of my qi and their qi into a much larger, more potent qi than I could possible create by myself. I feel Kayoko Matsuura’s presence when I dedicate my qi to her. I can connect in a physical way with old teachers, friends, and family whenever I choose.
I do not receive messages from “the other side,” and I am not privy to the secrets of the universe via Nekrofilia, ancient warrior lounge princess. The spirit of J.P. Morgan does not provide me with stock tips. What I experience is the physical presence of familiar qi from friends and loved ones. Each qi has its own “signature.” I can read the signature and feel assured that I have access to that person’s qi.
Your qi therefore becomes a repository of the lives of all those who have (literally and figuratively) touched you.
Our qi does not wane with illness or old age. It maintains its integrity until the final moment of life. What does change is our biorhythm. The duration of our passive biorhythm ebb tide becomes longer, and our active flood tide becomes brief, but intense. This accounts for sudden remissions or bursts of energy in the dying. The qi has returned to the center of the body, to the flood tide position, and the organism is stimulated to activity. After the energy surge, the tide ebbs and lingers for another long interval. Think of Ynez being energized by Purple Haze in the last newsletter.
As death approaches, the solar plexus tightens. What was once flexible, sometimes soft, becomes hard. The closer to death, the harder it gets until it feels almost like a wooden washboard. Just before death occurs, the solar plexus relaxes. The tightness dissolves, and the the solar plexus returns to its ‘normal’ state. This was the case with Ynez who, once morphine was introduced into her body, fell into what seemed to be a deep sleep. She remained in that inert state for a week, but we could monitor her status through the tension in the solar plexus. She passed away two hours after the solar plexus released its tension.
At the final moment of life, all of the body’s qi collects at the solar plexus, and there is an efflorescence or explosion of qi. Thus, the numerous eyewitness accounts of auras or bursts of light emitted from the dying at the moment of death. I have been present at a few peaceful deaths and witnessed this. I have heard from other qi practitioners that death, like birth, always occurs at flood tide (or produces the flood tide), and then all is silence. Though the organism is still active (hair and nails still grow, organs can still be harvested for transplant), qi has departed, and the organism is now pronounced lifeless.
WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?
Working with qi for thirty years has not brought me any closer to apprehending the meaning of life. It has not provided me with a philosophy of guidance and comfort. What it has done is validate the wisdom of William Blake when he wrote that “Exuberance is Beauty.” The exuberance obtained from the energy of qi, the exuberance that informs our best actions, the exuberance that comes of knowing that we are not living in a fragmented universe, but one which is unified by qi—all of this exuberance is, indeed, very beautiful. It seems to me that we, as energy, return to the universe to be subsumed within it to be, perhaps, recreated within other forms of energy.
And so, I would like to close this chapter and this book on a note of exuberance. It is a modern Japanese poem (my translation) that provides me all the guidance and comfort I need.
If you seek death,
Then die! If life,
Live on!
But, oh! What joy
Just to have been born
In this world.
TANAKA SHOZO (1841-1913)
Qi and I
April 2012, Issue # 46
MF writes: My first encounter with qi occurred when I was an undergraduate student of London University, learning things Japanese and Chinese. The encounter was neither memorable nor particularly influential in my life. Qi (pronounced as chi in Chinese, and as ki in Japanese and Korean) was one more Chinese character (kanji) to learn; one of about 3,000 that I was forced to fix indelibly in my brain.
It happened to be one of the most popular kanji in the vocabulary, and I remember thinking as a freshman how versatile qi was. It was used in kanji compounds for health, illness, electricity, sanity, madness, strength/weakness of character, weather, purpose, energy, feelings, courage and a myriad more. It was hard to make a simple declarative sentence without fitting qi in, and it was impossible to discuss anything physical or emotional without resorting to qi several times. The ubiquity of qi within the language and culture struck me as interesting, but no more than that.
The construction of the kanji is divided into two parts, the outer part and the inner part. The former signifies vapor, steam, gas; invisible yet potent energy. The latter is the kanji for “rice”, the staple food of Asia. “Okay, so we eat food (fuel) which produces invisible energy, and that is how we exist,” I thought, unimpressed, and then passed on to the next kanji to be learned. If I subsequently thought about the kanji for qi at all, the fatal result of the absence of fuel seemed so obvious and inevitable that I did not consider its philosophical implications. ‘No rice/fuel equals starvation” was all that occurred to me.
Today I think that life is the presence of qi, and death is the absence of qi. I have no better definition.
While still a student, I briefly took up the martial art Aikido, which I had heard rumored to be based on the mental and physical properties of qi. The word Aikido means “the Way of blending Qi’s”, but my qi did not at all blend with that of my first instructor. In Japanese, the blending of qi’s means to get along well with someone, and our qi’s could not have been further apart. I gave up on him, but not on Aikido.
Coming to Japan as a research student pursuing a doctorate at London University, I had another encounter with qi. This encounter was indeed memorable.
I once again entered an Aikido dojo, and this time I stayed. My instructor, Takeshi Watabe, who later became recognized as a master of the discipline, and who taught and practiced with vigor into his late eighties, had qi with which mine blended seamlessly. I spent 27 happy years under his tutelage. It was he who defined the essence of Aikido as “the right move at the right time.” It might well be the recipe for a happy life. Certainly, recognizing the link between qi and timing (in its widest and deepest implications) gave my mind and body something to chew on.
My third encounter with qi occurred as I was just on the verge of completing my doctoral thesis. This encounter resulted in an on-going love affair with qi that influenced the course of my life.
As I was putting the final high gloss on my dissertation, I suffered a physical breakdown. Perhaps letdown would be a better word. I had never given my body a second thought, but had taken its health and vitality for granted, and so the fact that it “gave out on me,” reducing me to intense pain and a bedridden condition, seemed like
an inexplicable betrayal.
The decline in my physical condition went hand in hand with a drop in my spirits. My outlook plummeted. To say that I was pessimistic and depressed would be an understatement. My only really active mood was desperation. I sometimes had dreams in which I made a Faustian pact with some devil whereby I would commit a horrible crime in return for being released from pain and regaining mobility.
A detailed account of my illness, cure, and awakening to the health-giving virtues of qi has been published elsewhere (The Book of Ki, Healing Arts Press). I will here only summarize by saying that, after two fruitless and frustrating years of trying a dozen physicians and a dozen holistic (alternative) practitioners including acupuncturists and chiropractors, I was finally healed by an eighty year old Japanese woman in about thirty minutes. She diagnosed my problem using qi, and healed my ailment using qi. I became her ardent admirer and pupil.
Her name was Kayoko Matsuura, and she was one practitioner among many –certainly the most gifted—of a Japanese holistic health organization that employs a modern revision of classical Chinese healing and health techniques based on qi.
She introduced me to the world of healing qi which, when appended to the martial qi I had been studying, created a vital totality of “the right move at the right time.” She used to kid me that I could beat someone up, and then heal him, something along the lines of the legendary Japanese man of medicine known as Red Beard (see the Kurosawa film of that name).
Mrs. Matsuura practiced her art without letup until she died at the age of eighty-five. Though she had experienced what the Japanese call a “sublime death,” I was, of course, saddened, and when my sadness passed, it was time to find a new teacher after having learned from her for four years.
I took courses at the health organization and joined small “study groups” of other practitioner-hopefuls. Eventually I was able to learn directly from a practitioner whom Mrs. Matsuura had always spoken of with the highest regard. It was never my goal to practice any healing or health maintenance; quite the opposite. I continued my study of qi out of intellectual curiosity and interest, because it gave me a sense of health and well-being, and in order to attend to the health needs of my immediate family. Beyond that I had no ambition. I was living half the year in Japan, and so could just learn and practice for my own sake.
It happened that, about 9 years into my study, a sixty-year old Japanese friend came to see me socially, and complained of chronic shoulder pain. He had been diagnosed as having an advanced case of bursitis, was told his condition was hopeless, and that he should consider having surgery. I impulsively asked him to let me have a go at alleviating his pain, he agreed, and his shoulder condition cleared up in two days. On the fourth day following his visit, my phone began ringing and people began turning up at my door asking to be treated. After I got over my surprise, my reactions were mixed. Half of me was flustered and lacked confidence; the other half was gratified and eager to get to work. Through an unforeseen event, I had a practice in spite of myself.
QI AND THE CAREGIVER
June 2012, Issue #47
This is meant not only for the caregiver (the person who lifts, carries, wipes, cleans, and feeds), but also for concerned family and friends who give time and attention to the caregiven.
The qi-caregiver must have compassion for the person he is endeavoring to help. This holds true for any situation, but it is especially important to bear this in mind when working with the terminally ill, the dying, and the very old.
Compassion is a powerful frame of mind that maintains its objective integrity. It looks upon objects and circumstances unmoved by impulse or high emotion. It is the supreme form of pity and tenderness.
Sympathy and a wish to do good at any cost are weak emotions that are at the mercy of subjectivity. They internalize an external problem, and frequently lead to wishing to put oneself in another’s place, or to take another’s pain upon oneself. One frequently has the feeling that one “has been there and felt that,” and that one has the ability to deal with another’s problem.
It is ear-catching political rhetoric to announce in varying degrees of sincerity, “I feel your pain.” The fact of the matter is, the politician neither does nor can feel another’s pain. One cannot internalize poverty or child abuse.
On the contrary, you the qi-caregiver are very susceptible to another’s pain. A gush of sympathy opens the door to the receiver’s qi entering you and bringing its problems with it. A qi-caregiver who sympathizes with a receiver in the middle of an anxiety attack will himself become anxious, even panicky. To try and understand another’s stomach pain while giving qi to the stomach will bring that pain into your stomach.
Compassion keeps the mind focused and objective, allowing us to make the right move at the right time. Sympathy negates our objectivity, and clouds our judgment.
On the third day of a recent 5-day qi workshop, a participant complained of the sudden onset of a severe headache. One of the other participants exclaimed, “You poor dear. I know just how that feels. Let me give you qi.” She raced over and put her hands on the other woman’s head, and as fast as thought, the headache entered her and caused her to cry with pain. When I felt her head, the qi was stationary, and just whirled in a small space like a dog chasing its tail. These were the exact same symptoms as the first woman presented. She had unwittingly taken the woman’s pain upon herself, and was no longer an effective provider of qi. She would have provided relief and saved herself a headache by remaining dispassionate and acting out of compassion.
A sympathetic qi-caregiver says, “I will share that person’s pain.”
A compassionate qi-caregiver says, “I will remove that person’s pain.”
The need to remain objective and compassionate is applicable to any qi-caregiving situation. I call this state of mind “dispassionate and compassionate.” By “dispassionate” I mean fair, objective, impartial, and level-headed. It is vital to bear these words in mind when giving care to the terminally ill, for it is all too tempting to become sympathetic and try to “save” them. You will simply take their frailties and afflictions upon yourself, and lose your ability to provide them with effective care.
Sympathy for a dying loved one or terminally ill person will result in the diminution of your own powers.
International epidemiological studies of the elderly and their lifestyle have shown that, regardless of country or culture, an older person living with a younger person does not grow young under the influence of the younger person. To the contrary, the younger person “grows old,” and assumes the characteristics of the elder.
In the same way, sympathy and a desire to do good at any cost will corrupt your integrity as an effective caretaker. You will come to resemble your charge.
Compassion and a generosity of spirit are the most important elements in caregiving with qi.
The caretaker must first take care of him/herself in order to provide effective care.
Some years ago, I was preparing to leave the following day for Japan when I received a call from the personal manager of a rock star. He was suffering lower back spasms and sciatica. His upcoming tour was in jeopardy. Would I drop everything and check him out?
Being the caring person I am, I told the manager that I was busy with my own life, and to just shoot him full of painkillers until I returned. Anyway, he probably had enough money that canceling a tour wouldn’t matter.
“Of course it wouldn’t hurt him financially,” his manager replied, “but think of all the people who depend on him. The guys in his band and their wives and children. Then the technicians and roadies. How about the people who sell souvenirs? They have families to support. How about the kids who sell soft drinks at the concerts? They’re probably supporting their parents or making money for college. Don’t you realize how many people will be adversely affected if he is unable to tour?”
The caregiver is like that rock star. Without your own good health and sound judgment, those who depend on you will be adversely affected. Your state of mind and body must come before that of your charge(s).
Do not fall into the trap of “caregiver captivity.”
Do not let sympathy or routine enslave you to your charge. For many caregiven, particularly the very old, their loss of physical independence arouses in them the desire to have some sort of sway over another person. They will play upon a caregiver’s sympathy or sense of duty to bend that person to their will. This is how they exercise their qi. To cooperate with the caregiver would seem like capitulation and resignation to their loss of independence; while to the contrary, resistance and conflict energize the caregiven and restore to them a measure of (emotional) independence.
One of the hallmarks of caregiver captivity is an increasing reluctance to delegate authority or responsibility, and to assume that everyone in the caregiving enterprise but yourself is negligent and incompetent. This means repeat phone calls to the doctor’s office, nurses’ station, medical equipment provider, nursing home staff, etc. This means worry that the caregiven’s diet is not being seen to, or that their care is inadequate though you have just instructed the nursing staff exactly what to do, etc.
This caretaker’s captivity keeps one’s qi from flowing steadily throughout the body. It tends to collect in the head, and so produces repetitive, anxious, and negative thoughts. It will lead to loss of sleep and loss of appetite. More and more, you come to resemble your charge.
As caregiver, you must have time for yourself. You must have the freedom to enjoy yourself. You must be able to exercise and maintain your health. You must keep regular mealtimes and eat what you like in a relaxed frame of mind. You must keep a healthy perspective of your abilities and limitations: specifically, what you can provide your charge and what is beyond your power to provide. You may compromise with the caregiven, but you must not capitulate to what you consider to be bad behavior. And finally, you must feel that, by caregiving with qi, you are actively participating in the health and welfare of your charge. This last statement is particularly important.
Caregiving involves physical labor, much of it dirty and unrewarding. It is sad if the caregiver or family member becomes a captive to that role and that role alone without being able to participate in the health of their charge. Most caregivers are concerned bystanders who feel powerless to do anything but watch and wait as physicians, technicians, and therapists play the dominant healthcare role in the lives of their charges. By means of qi, the caregiver can become an active and health-effective participant in the life of his/her charge.
Giving qi to the caregiven will alleviate pain, lessen the side-effects of drugs, improve appetite, stimulate alertness, and provide physical and spiritual comfort.
Giving qi locally will alleviate pain. Giving qi to the solar plexus will create a feeling of comfort and warmth, as will holding the right arm between your two hands.
Finally, the very act of hands-on qi-giving provides an intimate bond between caregiver and caregiven. It is not just physical comfort, but also emotional succor. Providing and receiving hands-on qi care is the physical manifestation of the mind/body union of both parties.
The physical sensation of receiving qi in this way is very pleasurable to the caregiven, and the results are no less effective than giving qi more systematically. Best of all, the caregiver sees to her own health even as she sees to the health of her charge.
Healthy Talk
October 2012, Issue #48
MF writes: Thirty years ago I had a serious illness. I knew it was a serious illness because every practitioner, allopathic and otherwise, who treated me told me I had a serious illness. I conjectured I had a serious illness when I walked in the door, and was positive I had a serious illness when I walked out the door. Being confirmed in my conjecture by a health care professional did not fill me with pride in my own bodily percipience. Quite the contrary. I found that I had gone into the meeting unconsciously hoping that I would be contradicted; that my illness would be diagnosed as light if not completely insubstantial, and I would leave the office with the optimism that healing would be gentle and brief.
The Japanese orthopedic specialists were, on the whole, mild-mannered and kindly. They advised soaking in hot mineral springs, therapeutic massage, traction, steroid enemas, and brisk walks (which I could not do), but seemed resigned that all of these were but half-way houses to the final destination of spinal surgery. The two American orthopedic surgeons I consulted made me feel like a pantywaist. They told me that if I couldn’t suck up the pain, they would just operate and that would fix everything. The English specialist I consulted at London University Hospital had a frank and manly disposition. He came right out and told me that all indications pointed directly to surgery, and to deny this was immature and self-destructive.
I can’t even remember how many acupuncturists, chiropractors, shiatsu practitioners, and massage therapists I consulted on three continents. Most of the acupuncturists and chiropractors hinted darkly that my condition might even be more serious than the physicians had diagnosed, but that they could fix me in just seventeen or so treatments, payable in advance.
Lying in bed at night clutching my bedpan, I began physically to feel the weight of all the bad news I had received. The feeling was oppressive and depressing. No one had offered me a glimmer of hope that precluded surgery, and my research into the outcomes of spinal surgery did not give me cause for optimism.
The frustration and disappointment born of these diagnoses led me into fantasy as an outlet for feeling better. I would somehow get over this problem, and when I did I would be a force for good and health, and I would never ever EVER tell anyone that they had a serious health problem, even if I thought they had the worst health problem in history. The fantasy became a vow.
Those of you who are old fans or devotees of these newsletters will know that a late night phone call from a drunk in a Tokyo bar led me to an old woman in Odawara, a two hour train ride south from Tokyo, who healed me using qi. But what you don’t know is this:
The drunk turned out to be a professor of linguistics who was an enthusiastic amateur rugby player. He had been injured in a crushing tackle some years before, and after pursuing the same futile course as I had, was introduced to this old lady who had healed him. He had no idea how she had done it, but she had done it, and that was enough for him. Just as I had made a vow, he had made a vow that he would introduce any fellow-sufferer to this woman, and that is why he took a day off from work to introduce me to her.
There are some moments in every life that cut distinct and fine in memory like a sharp axe biting into a tree. One such moment for me was meeting the old lady. The professor had told me she was old, so I expected someone about seventy. This woman was eighty and pitifully small. I thought she was malnourished and feeble. She was not five feet tall, and could not have weighed more than eighty pounds. Her face was thin and bony, and her eyes were large, black and intense.
So far, I’m a little disappointed. But what almost sent me running to the exit was her hair. It was cropped close to the skull and dyed ghastly colors, something like tie-dye gone horribly wrong. She might have been a pioneer of punk in Odawara or she dyed her hair maniacally with every color in the hair salon and spice rack.
She instructed me to remove all my clothes but my undershirt and pants, and lie face down on the tatami. She scanned my body and ran her fingers gently and with assurance down my spine. Then she had me turn over.
When I was on my back and she was feeling my legs, abdomen and chest, I told her about how serious my condition was, and gave her the consensus diagnosis. I didn’t think she was listening, or if listening, ignoring everything I said. I was annoyed.
She said, “I am so pleased to meet you. I meet so few people with a body as wonderful, as healthy as yours. You’re in excellent health. Your organs are all functioning perfectly, your skin is clear, your muscles are firm and resilient. You should consider yourself a lucky man. It’s really a pleasure to put my hands on you. There is just one little thing wrong, but we’ll soon clear it up. This will not be difficult.”
I was certain she was mad. Or if not mad, then she was gibbering in senility. All of the medical people, with varying degrees of drama, had told me how bad my body was. Even in the best of health, a physician will only tell one there is nothing wrong with him. Never had I had my body complimented by anyone in the healing profession.
I thought, “She’s not giving me credit where credit is due!”
“But I’m in terrible pain,” I said in a voice that demanded her to look again and reconsider.
She was unperturbed. “Of course you’re in terrible pain. That’s because you have a healthy body. If you weren’t in pain, there’d be something wrong with you. Imagine having a pinched nerve and not being in terrible pain.”
I thought, “I should lock this woman in a closet, throw away the key, and burn down the house for the good of humankind. She could be deranged, incompetent, whimsical or all three. Maybe she is trying to give me a psychological boost at the low point of my life. Maybe she is doing the classic Japanese behavior of truth evasion by painting a pretty picture on bad news. Maybe she is this, she is that...”
As she worked on me with her short, strong, assured fingers, it occurred to me that my illness might actually be light, and I would leave her treatment with the optimism that my healing would be gentle and brief.
When I left her and began my way home, I felt no different than when I arrived a couple of hours before. However, I did feel a rush of optimism, and a visceral sensation that I would be completely better thanks to her treatment. I was pleased and relieved that she had found my body to be healthy and my problem to be fixable without surgery. Her words were encouraging.
My healing was brief and anything but gentle. However, it beat surgery hands down, especially as she found that all previous diagnoses had been incorrect, and surgery would not have addressed the root of the problem.
I continued to visit her in Odawara monthly even after my illness cleared up. There is not much privacy in Japan, and one does not have to eavesdrop to overhear conversations. I soon realized that I was not the only one to whom she spoke optimistically. I liked to flatter myself that she was the most fulsome with me, but certainly she gave every person she treated cause for hope. I learned many things from her, and one of the least technical but most significant was to instill optimism and hope from the outset.
People do not come to me for treatment for hangnails or trivialities. I am low man on the totem pole of medicine for most of the people who come to see me. They have already seen several physicians, acupuncturists, chiropractors, and even psychotherapists (having been told the problem is not real, but in their heads), and all treatments and approaches have been futile. They come to see me, not necessarily reluctantly, but because they have run out of options. I feel like the Chapel of Last Hope.
Having spent so much time and money on fruitless treatments, and having been told to go away and try something else while they are in pain or going sleepless or are infertile or chronically nauseous or whatever, these people become rather obsessive about their problem. They think about little else, especially if they require drugs just to keep upright or get a night’s sleep. Their qi goes round in circles in their heads, and they feel helplessly captive to their condition.
As if this is not bad enough, they have to drive through Los Angeles traffic to see me. Most people take forty minutes or less, but some people can spend two hours each way. They are frustrated, flustered, sometimes angry, but always tense when they arrive, and to add to the problem, they have had plenty of time to think about their complaint and rehearse in their heads how they will present it to me. It’s like My Summer Vacation on Queen-for-a-Day-Steroids. Just as most neurotics think that their neurosis is unusual, most people who see me think of themselves as medical mysteries of a unique sort. The fact is, I encounter conditions that most physicians only read about and drool over. The only condition I have never seen is, perhaps, leprosy. So I try to remain unperturbed but sympathetic when people relate their problem(s). Sometimes I give them a score based on Olympic standards for eloquence or drama or pitifulness or bitter frustration.
Now, they have turned up at my office tense from driving, from rehashing their problem in their mind, by having to fill out a short but dreary form, and finally by reliving in words their lousy experience. I have to put my hands on them and relax them to the point where I can make an accurate diagnosis by touch. Their bodies are rigid and unyielding. I put a lot of qi into the spine to deepen their breathing, and then run my fingers here and there to pretend like I am doing something important.
Then I say, “It’s not as bad as you led me to believe. This is workable. Your body is already responding and I feel confident that it will respond in a positive way for a good outcome.”
The person will almost always give a lung-clearing exhale and say, “Really?” And the body will relax, and I can get on with really doing something important. And as I work, I act as a tour guide pointing out the highlights of their anatomy and physiology, while minimizing the lowlights.
By now the person is relaxed and relieved, but suddenly remembers something important that he/she has asked two hundred times without receiving a satisfactory answer. “What did I do to get into this mess? How did this happen?” He/she believes that she has been “bad” or done something “wrong”. Certainly, he has brought this medical misfortune on himself. I can feel the body tensing up and denying me access. I have to block that passage of thought.
“You don’t pay me enough to find out,” I say, and the person laughs. When I feel the body relax, I continue. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just life. Living day to day is reason enough for ___ to happen. It’s not uncommon.”
Most people leave feeling optimistic, and that optimism/positive energy accelerates the healing process. I phone or email the person 48 hours after treatment in order to learn the outcome, and to keep the optimism in play. In twenty-one years of practice, I have only once been at a loss for encouraging words because I had no idea of the magnitude of the illness, RSD (see Newsletter #14 in the archives for further details). Still today RSD fills me with a hopelessness that leaves me feeling eviscerated.
Just as salivation is the first step in the successful completion of the lengthy digestion process, a sympathetic ear, an encouraging or complimentary word, an optimistic tone, and an avoidance of placing blame are the first step in the successful completion of the healing process. I live my vow.
THOUGHTS AT YEAR’S END 2012
Issue #49
LIFE UNFOLDS
We are all of us restless, asking for whys and wherefores and seeking some sort of answer to get at the root of our restlessness. We believe in free will which is a good thing, but we are not certain that there are fates or destinies or opportunities--both very good and very bad--open to us that exist apart from our will. We find it hard to believe that life just unfolds and carries us with the unfoldment willy-nilly. We have our hardheaded logic that stubbornly resists that notion, and that resistance frustrates us.
It is not at all a strong thing to put one’s reliance upon logic; and our own logic particularly, for it is generally wrong. We never know where we are to end if once we begin following words or doctors. There is an upright stock in a man’s own heart that is trustier than any syllogism, and the eyes, and the sympathies, and the appetites know a thing or two that have never yet been stated in controversy. Reasons are as plentiful as blackberries; and like fisticuffs, they serve impartially with all sides. R L Stevenson
Robert Louis Stevenson was an imaginative, restless man of a deeply spiritual nature. Read his Fables to appreciate fully his spirituality. His life unfolded into avenues that would have seemed like fantasy in mid-19th century Edinburgh where he was born. He died 44 years later on the South Pacific island of Samoa in the village of Vailima. He, too, asked for whys and wherefores as his life unfolded, until at the very end he came to an understanding. This poem, written in Vailimi, is one of his last.
Evensong
The embers of the day are red
Beyond the murky hill:
The kitchen smokes: the bed
In the darkly house is spread:
The great sky darkens overhead,
And the great woods are shrill.
So far have I been led,
Lord, by thy will:
So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still.
The breeze from the embalmèd land
Blows sudden toward the shore;
And claps my cottage door.
I hear the signal, Lord--I understand.
The night at they command
Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more.
There is a Japanese proverb: the foot of the lighthouse is in pitch darkness. Like a lighthouse beacon, we restlessly scan the horizon for the signal that will put an end to our questioning, ignoring what is at our feet, our fingertips, or right under our noses. We need to put our reliance in our “eyes, sympathies, and appetites”; we need tranquil moments of being alone and alert; we need to believe that life just unfolds, and though we may make choices and decisions, we are not in charge of the unfoldment. Then we will experience the signal. We will obtain a measure of contentment.
NB: Parents of a teenager must be very very much more aware and conscientious about the above than those without.
DEATH AND TRANSFORMATION
MF Writes: My mother, Marty Fromm, passed away last month. She had several afflictions, not least of which were dementia and congestive heart failure. As the one left behind with mind intact, it pained me to watch my mother ease into feebleness of mind and body. But for her it was a kind of a gift. She had, as far back as I can remember, been very afraid of death, and dementia removed the concept of death from her mind. I suspect that she grew demented in order to have a peaceful and comfortable death. Though no physician would have called her healthy, her descent into dementia was a very healthy choice her body made. She passed the last three years of her life without anxiety or fear; and more important, she was wonderfully happy and grateful to be alive. She existed in what the Japanese politely and accurately call a state of ecstasy.
She died at home, and her course of death was typical. She stopped speaking and eating. Her solar plexus became tight. I sent for hospice and put her in bed. Her solar plexus grew tighter and tighter until it was almost like a board. She drank Coke through a syringe, and Therese and I kept her face and lips moist with water. On the third day, her solar plexus softened, and I knew death would come soon. A short while after her solar plexus relaxed, I called her name. She opened her eyes and focused on my face. I asked her questions and she responded by nodding or shaking her head. Her wrinkles vanished. Her broad smile was beatific. She told me she was tired, closed her eyes, and her qi flashed out of her solar plexus. She was dead.
Or so I thought. As I looked at her for what I thought was the last time, I saw the pulse beating in her thin neck. It took me a few minutes to realize that although she was “dead”, her pacemaker was keeping her alive. She lay in that condition for about 12 hours, and then was finally, legally gone.
I have often spoken and written that my definition of life and death is a simple one: life is the presence of qi, and death is the absence of qi. Once the qi leaves the body, the person is no more, yet the body goes on living. This is what makes possible the harvesting of organs and body parts for transplants. This is also what makes possible the accessing of the qi of deceased persons. Their qi is no longer confined to a small shell, but is free to roam the universe. Qi is, after all, energy. My mother was loving to me, and invested her energy in that love. Her energy has blended with mine. She has literally become a part of me. I can use that energy to contact her as she roams the universe. She can speak to me again.
LOWER BACK PAIN AND $URGERY
MF writes: I have not succumbed to summer laziness by choosing to quote rather than write an original piece. I agree with Emerson: It is as difficult to appropriate the thoughts of others as it is to invent. I came across an article by the Harvard Medical School professor and well-known hematologist Jerome Groopman, and found his information to be salutary enough to warrant sharing. I give you
Dr. Groopman:
In 2006, more than 150,000 spine fusions were performed in the U.S. The operation involves removing discs from the lower spine and mechanically bracing the vertebrae with metal rods and screws. The procedure is of tremendous benefit to patients with fractured spines or spinal cancer, but these make up a minuscule number of the total cases. More frequently, spinal fusion is performed to alleviate chronic low back pain. There are serious questions about whether the operation is effective and why some doctors perform it.
CT and MRI scans are often used to make the case for surgery, but the correlation between damaged or degenerated discs and low back pain is poor. Studies have shown that 27% of healthy people over the age of forty had a herniated disc, 10% had an abnormality of the vertebral facet joints, and 50% had other anatomical changed that appeared significant on CT scans. Yet none of these people had back pain. Similar results were found in a study using MRI scanning: 36% of people over sixty had herniated discs, and some 80% to 90% of them had significant disc degeneration in the form of narrowing or bulging. Again, despite significant anatomical changes in the lumbar spine, these healthy people had no nagging back pain. For some people, of course, the rupture of a disc coincides with the acute onset of pain. But even then, studies show that surgery is often unnecessary. More than 80% of people will recover with conservative measures, like anti-inflammatory medication, a short period of rest, and then progressive mobilization and physical therapy. A simple operation called a discectomy--shaving off the lip of the disc that has herniated and that presses on the nerve root--can relieve pain more rapidly.
Each of the various muscles, tendons, bones, joints, and ligaments in the lower back contains sensory nerves that can transmit message of pain through the spinal cord to the brain. There are also organs in the abdomen and pelvis that, when they become inflamed or diseased, can signal pain in the back. Given all of these structures, the source of the chronic low back pain is often a mystery. Doctors can be hard-pressed to identify why a patient is uncomfortable.
How doctors think about a problem like chronic low back pain is heavily influenced by the specialty they trained in. A research study published in 1994 showed that each group of specialists favored the diagnostic tools of their discipline in evaluating patients. Neurologists called for electromyograms (EMGs) that assess the integrity of the conduction system of nerves. Rheumatologists, who are experts in arthritis and other joint disorders, ordered blood tests called serologies than can identify relatively rare autoimmune disorders that affect the spine. Surgeons requested MRI scans, which reveal the anatomy of the vertebral bones and discs and may suggest a surgical solution.
One doctor who sees many patients with chronic low back pain pointed out that in medicine, when you do a procedure on a patient, even if it just sticking a needle into him, the insurance company reimburses you at a much better rate than if you perform a physical examination. So, he said, there is a powerful drive to perform invasive procedures.
On the other hand, Dr. Richard Deyo, a primary care physician at the University of Washington who has studied the results of treating thousands of patients with low back pain, emphasized that in most cases these diagnostic tests are neither informative nor useful in guiding treatment. Research showed that 85% of patients who suffer from low back pain cannot be given a precise diagnosis; the pain is usually vaguely ascribed to “strain” or “sprain” or “spinal instability” in the lumbar region. It turns out that the diagnosis is not critical, because the outcomes tend to be similar anyway. With acute low back pain, 90% improve within two to seven weeks without specific therapy. Even with an acute ruptured disc the prognosis is good, although recovery is usually slower; 80% feel significantly better within six weeks without surgery. Over time, the disc retracts, so it no longer presses on the nerves and the inflammation subsides. As noted before, a simple discectomy will make you feel better faster if you have acute sciatica, so some people opt for this procedure. But the rationale for surgery for chronic, as opposed to acute, low back pain is much less clear; how physicians guide patients with chronic pain, alas, may be significantly influenced by economics.
The current culture of medicine fosters lucrative networks of referrals and procedures but discourages critical examination of their value. Insurance benefits also favor surgery: patients usually get greater disability payments if they undergo back surgery. Insurance nearly always reimburses a surgeon at a much higher rate for a fusion operation than for a discectomy. In 2006, the surgeon’s full fee for a simple discectomy was around $5000, as opposed to some $20,000 for a fusion procedure. The financial incentive tips heavily toward fusion.
For the majority of patients with chronic lumbar pain, fusion surgery has no dramatic impact on either their pain or their mobility. Yet many surgeons pay scant attention to the poor results. A prospective trial in Scandinavia compared patients who underwent fusion surgery for chronic low back pain with those who did not. After two years, an independent observer rated only one out of every six patients in the surgical group as having an “excellent” result--only marginally better than patients who had intensive physical therapy.
In conclusion, it is unlikely that in the near future personal financial gain will be extracted from certain clinical decisions. Several spine surgeons told me they would not participate in a trial comparing simple discectomy with fusion surgery, because fusion surgery is a main source of their income and because they are convinced of its value. These were the obstacles that Dr. James Weinstein, at Dartmouth Medical School, faced in trying to launch a national study. Weinstein, an orthopedic surgeon and a leading expert in back pain, told me that the way doctors approach treatment of chronic lumbar complaints needs radical improvement. Patients, he said, must be given unbiased information about what is known and not known about back pain and the various ways of treating it. Informed choice means a comprehensive understanding of all the options and their possible risks and benefits.
Thoughts at Year’s End 2013
Generosity of Spirit
When Giving and Receiving Are the Same
There is a unity of intention and the effective flow of qi. The most potent qi is that which is generated and guided by a generosity of spirit. To me, one’s degree of health is the degree of satisfaction one takes in life. However, the satisfaction one takes in life does not imply a self-seeking hedonism. Regard for others is central to the efficacy of healing qi. In the words of William Blake, “The most sublime act is to set another before you.” “Another” is not limited to people. Any living creature, be it flora or fauna, that you wish to help and heal will benefit from your qi. Even cats.
You cannot kill a person with qi no matter how hard you try. You can wish them dead as you transmit your qi, but qi will not make your wish come true. At worst, you will make the person feel anxious or nauseous. More probably, your qi will not be effective simply because it does not blend with the qi of the receiver. Just as it is next to impossible to transmit qi successfully to a mean-spirited person, so it is unthinkable that a mean-spirited person can generate effective healing qi.
On the other hand, wishing someone well as you transmit qi will work toward making him/her well. To have a loving thought in mind as you give qi enlarges and fortifies your qi.
You may also have a conscious intention of healing a specific ailment or treating a specific wound or blow. Intention is not the be-all-and-end-all of healing qi, but no amount of technical expertise or finesse can make up for a lack of good intention and generosity of spirit.
I never begin to give qi treatment without thinking of a loved person, living or dead, whose approval energizes me. I conjure up his/her face when I do my warm up exercises to access my qi, and imagine us breathing together. I feel a rhythmic union with the person, and dedicate my day’s work to that person. I work for that person’s approval by helping others on their behalf. Thus, I set out to do a day’s work with good intentions and a generosity of spirit.
As most of you know, my mother passed away in January. She has not been speaking to me or aiding me like Obi Wan did with Luke Skywalker, but her spirit has been subsumed in mine. Beginning with her introduction to qi in 1984 when she was healed of chronic sciatica by Mrs. Matsuura in Japan, she was helped regularly by qi treatments, including acupuncture. She was a great fan of qi, and was grateful for treatments. Therese and I were at her bedside giving her qi up to the moment of death. I dedicate one day of work a week to her, and that work usually goes very well. Her generous spirit enhances mine.
This is not to say that you have to love every person you treat. You don’t. Sometimes you have to hold your (metaphorical) nose when you give treatment. The point is that you wish them well enough that you can generate the kindness of intention that produces good results.
The good news is that the more qi you transmit to others for the purpose of health and healing, the healthier you get. People often ask if I am exhausted at the end of a day’s work, having expended so much energy. The answer is no. I get tired listening to sad stories and seeing people in pain, but my expenditure of energy returns to me by the act of giving. Again, as Blake said, “Energy is eternal delight---Exuberance is Beauty”. That’s a healthy thought for the New Year.
(PRETTY) BIG NEWS!!
At the invitation of Professor Steven Hirohama, Therese and I sponsored a competition for his film class to create a short promotional video for SIKE Health. Prof. Hirohama shot a couple of hours of raw footage, and then handed it to the students to edit and add music and effects.
THE PATH OF MIND/BODY HEALTH IN POETRY
Our lives are full of stress and worry. Young and old alike are losing their health and their emotional stability to regretting the past and fretting about the future.
We look before and after,
And pine for what is not
P. B. Shelley ‘To A Skylark’ (1820)
It is harder and harder for us to live in the present, not because the present is drearier than in the past, but because the present places more demands on us than in the past. Just look at anyone with a cell phone. There is no place to be alone and collect oneself, at least not in “advanced” countries. People in "developing" countries are worried about feeding themselves and fending off diseases. We are concerned about popularity, success and acquisition.
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
W. Wordsworth
Some of those powers have to do with our digestion and immune system. I am seeing more and more young women with irregular menstrual cycles and bad skin due to a disruption in their body cleansing system. Both young men and women complain of headaches, sleep disorders, and problems with digestion. Not one of these people has a carefree attitude to life. In fact, I would have to say that they are careworn by the time they finish four years of university.
Their parents display the same symptoms. The parents fret that the children are not working hard enough to succeed financially, and the children are worn out from trying to satisfy the parents. Both parents and children aspire to the same goal: a secure future with happiness on the side. But fantasies of, and aspirations for happiness are unclear and unfocussed ("notions vain"), and are usually so abstract that they lead to anxiety. The present loses its hold on us, and we struggle to find our way through life.
Freed from intricacies, I am taught to live
The easiest way, nor with perplexing thoughts
To interrupt the sweet of life, from which
God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares,
And not molest us, unless we ourselves
Seek them with wand’ring thoughts and notions vain.
But apt the mind or fancy is to rove
Unchecked, and of her roving is no end;
Till warned, or by experience taught, she learn
That not to know at large of things remote
From use, obscure and subtle, but to know
That which before us lies in daily life,
Is the prime wisdom; what is more is fume,
Or emptiness, or fond impertinence,
And renders us in things that most concern
Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek.
John Milton Paradise Lost VIII 182-197
Buddhism has a useful metaphor for describing the problems that perplex us. The problems are described as a long rope on fire at one end. As the rope whirls around faster and faster from the center, it appears that the fire is a single circle enclosing us and preventing us from moving. In fact, there is only one point on the circle at any time that can hurt us. If we just become tranquil and thoughtful, put aside feelings of haste, and see the present for what it is, we can walk through the circle of fire to freedom.
Tranquil, steady breathing is the pathway to health.
There is nothing worth racing or rushing for.
The breath of Nature is rhythmic and tranquil.
Flowers do not succumb to the pressure of time and rush to bloom.
But we fall into disorder, agitation, and commotion when we 'fall behind' time.
Humans are the only organisms capable of conceiving the future.
Most of our stress and all of our anxieties come from thoughts of the future. Until we realize that our anxieties are always one station ahead of us, and thus groundless, the future remains a prime source of human agitation.
Agitation disrupts our breathing.
Every moment of agitation is a moment lost to our span of life.
Calm yourself by gently slowing your agitated breathing and returning to the present.
Restore yourself to a steady repose.
With the natural rhythm of breath, our bodies will move as Nature intends, toward health.
Happiness, sadness, anger, suffering, pleasure...all are interesting.
Observe a child: tears give way to laughter, and pain gives way to pleasure. Binding oneself to any single transient emotion disturbs our breathing and subverts our core of tranquility. In extreme cases, we stop breathing altogether.
Each life is encircled by an ever-turning wheel of varied emotions.
When the wheel turns to anger, get angry; when you are facing sadness, feel sad; conform to the changing reality before you without losing the healthy rhythm of your breathing.
This is the path of health.
Our lives are too short to lose time to worry, stress, and the health problems they create. In closing, a fragment of a Victorian poem that is remarkably like a Japanese Zen waka (31 syllable poem).
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.
Ernest Dowson, from "Vitae Summa Brevis" (1896)
Useful Health Hint
A Health Note from Denmark
KEEP ON WALKING!
Above all, do not lose your desire to walk: every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness; I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it. Even if one were to walk for one’s health and it were constantly one station ahead--- I would still say: Walk!! Besides, it is also apparent that in walking one constantly gets as close to well-being as possible, even if one does not quite reach it--- but by being still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill. Health and salvation can be found only in motion. If anyone denies that motion exists, I do as Diogenes did, I walk. If anyone denies that health resides in motion, then I walk away from all morbid objections. Thus, if one just keeps on walking, everything will be all right.
Søren Kierkegaard
SORRY, NO SPECIAL POWERS HERE
MF writes: A few years back I was part of a panel discussion on a radio program dealing with health. I thought we would be discussing health, but I was quickly disabused of that notion. The talk began with a theme that I can only refer to as ‘sixth-sense’. One panelist claimed to be psychic, two said they were intuitives, and one was a ‘sensitive’. As the four panelists and moderator waited for me to chime in with my sensory powers, I felt like a complete loser, like Charlie Brown dropping the fly ball in the 9th inning, like Marc Antony telling Cleopatra how things turned out at the Battle of Actium, like a total doofus, like…well, you get the picture. I admitted to having no sensory powers. I tried to cover myself, saying, “I don’t need special powers in my line of work.” It didn’t wash. The group shunned me.
As the other panelists regaled the invisible radio audience with tales of exposing haunted houses, predicting unanticipated deaths, sensing out ancient Indian burial grounds, prognosticating weather patterns, and conversing with the dead, I sat meditating on my lack of powers, and how their powers had little or nothing to do with health.
Within an hour of the program ending, my feeling of failure evaporated and my normal feeling of superiority kicked in. I may not be able to communicate with the dead, but I can communicate well with the living, especially with their mind/body. Perhaps, after 30-some years of learning and practicing qi medicine, I have exercised a latent intuitive sensory muscle within me that makes me a better, more sensitive practitioner.
It was 1981. I began studying with Mrs. Matsuura, who, from the first, stressed what I called the Holy Trinity of qi medicine: Opportunity, Space, and Degree.
Opportunity means the practitioner’s ability to sense the precise moment to address directly the patient’s complaint. Most adults are physically and mentally tense, and so are not fully receptive to qi treatment. Qi works quickly and effectively when the mind/body is in a state of relaxation, and so the bulk of a qi treatment consists of relaxing the patient so that the qi can be successfully transmitted. In the words of Ben Jonson (“The Art of Physic”): The art of medicine consists of amusing the patient while nature cures the disease. It takes sensitivity born of experience to sense the right opportunity for effective transmission of qi.
Space means the ability to distance oneself from the patient and observe how the treatment should progress, and is progressing.
Degree means the effective amount of qi to be given, and the effective duration of transmission time necessary for positive results.
The Japanese for this Holy Trinity is ki, do, ma. When the three overlap, you have powerful qi. Is the awareness of this overlap a form of intuition developed over time? Does awareness just occur naturally with experience? These are tough questions to answer. I have met a number of experienced practitioners who not only lack awareness, but are not aware that they should be aware.
When I told my Aikido instructor, Mr. Watabe, about this trinity, he was first thoughtful, then merry. “That’s what I’ve always said was the essence of Aikido (lit. Path of Blending Qi): the right move at the right time. Know when to start, when to stop, and how much to do in between.” He was very pleased to have found that qi had even more applications than he had thought. “However,” he said, “it seems to me that together with opportunity, space, and degree, you have to add movement, certainly in Aikido. Without movement, nothing really occurs. Of course, it is the nature of the universe to be in constant motion, just like it is with our bodies. We add our movement to that of others, and we have a great qi experience whether for killing or healing.”
I thought: Einstein added the 4th dimension, Time, to Newton’s three spatial dimensions, and so revealed an active universe in infinite motion. Watabe added movement to Matsuura’s Holy Trinity, and created an active relationship between practitioner and patient. By blending my movement
---both micro- and macroscopic movement--- to that of the patient, we form a bond that enhances the quality of the qi treatment.
Forming the Bond
It is very important to get an idea of the patient’s personality and character from the first. At the initial consultation, I always spend at least fifteen minutes talking to the person and observing his/her body language. It is not uncommon for me to have what I call a “vision” of the person in good health. This is like a diagnosis because it enables me to know what needs to be rectified in order for the person to regain the health he/she seeks. It is almost like seeing into the person to observe the structure and organs of the body. The Japanese call this naikan, ‘seeing within’.
I was told early in my training that naikan was an essential component of a competent practitioner. I had no idea what the instructors were “seeing”. I despaired of ever achieving the ability. And then one day—boom—it happened. It wasn’t that I had developed X-ray eyes. It was a subtle feeling of visionary confidence that I knew what was going on inside the person, and that I could fix it. The vision was an amalgamation of her voice, posture, eye contact, disposition, breathing, and list of medications. A bond was formed, and today I naturally form bonds with those I treat.
The new patient probably does not feel the bond. That doesn’t matter. Most people prefer to be passive and let me do the work without asking what on earth I’m doing. They have heard about me from a third party and are taking a leap of faith to undergo treatment from me. However, by the fourth or fifth treatment, they are aware of the bond, and this makes my work easier because they look forward to treatment and their bodies are receptive. They even ask me what qi is!
Time For Intuition
Some people’s maladies are puzzling. They are seeing several specialists, each of whom provides a different diagnosis and prognosis. By the time such people turn up at our clinic like castaways, they are confused, bothered, and bewildered. It is not always easy to form a bond because they have become so altered from their original selves, not least because of powerful medication.
In these cases I find intuition raising its hand and asking to be called on. Since XYZ have all been unsuccessfully tried, my intuition tells me that we should try ABC. I then filter that intuitive voice through my experience in order to determine the validity of the thought. I am not as confident with this intuitive approach as I am with my ‘vision’. However, when a vision is unattainable, this is the next best thing.
Demands
Our bodies are demanding of us, and we are demanding of our bodies. My body says, ‘Let me sleep”, and I reply, ‘I want to party all night.’ Your body wants to eat, but you want to fast. Your body wants to breathe deeply, but you want hurry along breathing shallowly.
Understanding the mutual demands of a person is also a key factor in creating a visionary health plan. It is not enough to deal with, say, a 70 year-old body. I have to tell the person that he/she is no longer 26 and cannot and should not physically compete with youngsters. If a 47 year-old tells me he can no longer do the amount of exercise he used to be able to do, all I can say is that he was never 47 before.
I always ask a person at the initial consultation what his/her goal is; what kind of outcome they seek. It is not enough to say he wants to be pain free or she wants to be healthy. I like to know how they plan to use their healthy body when the treatment(s) are concluded: attend a wedding, walk through Paris, join a Pilates class, swim, garden, etc. When we have a mutual goal, I feel more confident to blend the mutual demands.
Clairvoyance
When I travel, I always have to resist the temptation to ask a self-proclaimed psychic why he doesn’t know where his lost luggage is. In 1994, I wondered why two psychics bought property and opened for business one week before the Northridge earthquake that demolished their properties.
I am sure that some people have clairvoyance, which is French for ‘clear seeing’. As we use the word, it means a supernatural power to see the future.
I believe that I am clairvoyant, though not in the above sense. In order to give effective and timely treatments, it is imperative for me to see clearly, and that involves seeing not only the person as she stands before me, but also the person who will be transformed at treatments’ end. My clairvoyance is not an innate gift. It is the result of years of thoughtful experience with, perhaps, a soupçon of intuition.
My clairvoyance is what the Japanese refer to as kan. There is no single English word for kan. A dictionary will give the word ‘intuition’, but that word requires a lengthy footnote of the type I have been writing about. Kan is much closer to a certainty than to a hunch. I am told by disappointed practitioners that young trainees today are more interested in studying technique than in developing kan. If that is so, I fear for the future of the art. Qi medicine will devolve into a one-size-fits-all painting by numbers technique in which the individual will be overlooked.
Best not to think about that…
If I had had my wits about me that day on the radio, I would have called myself clairvoyant. But, really, how do you compete with ghost-busters?
Thoughts at Year’s End 2014
Any idiot can face a crisis--
It’s this day to day living that wears you out.
Anton Chekov
In the past I have written about the properties of qi including the
physical and mental properties. As Carl Jung almost said, “Bidden or
unbidden, qi is always there in your life.” At the end of 2014, I write to
enlighten you to the unending flow of qi, and how it can improve all
aspects of your health.
Left to its own devices, the human body would self-monitor and
self-regulate its flow of qi in order to keep itself at optimum health. It
would, all by itself, keep itself as healthy as its innate adaptive power
allowed. There are, however, several reasons why this ideal state
does not come about. For the purpose of this newsletter, only one
reason—the prime reason—need be advanced: stress. Stress is
induced by personal and environmental factors. Stress is the main
impediment to the healthy functioning of the organism. There is a
growing school of medical opinion that believes that stress, together
with genetic factors, is at the root of many illnesses including cancer.
Make a fist. Clench it tight. Feel the muscles bulge in your forearm,
feel the ache in your palm. Now try and brush your teeth. Or drive a
car. Or hold a fork. Or sew a button on a shirt. Obviously you can't.
And the number of things you can’t do in this state is infinitely greater
than the number you can.
The “unnatural,” excessive tension in the hand is impeding the
hand’s functions. It is by relaxing the hand that you can comb your
hair or type an e-mail. In the same way, stress resulting in physical
tension impedes the self-regulating activities of the body, which in
turn impairs health. To put it another way, the flow of qi within the
body encounters insurmountable obstacles.
The qi which you feel leaving your hands when you do the
preceding exercises, and the qi which you feel when you receive qi
from another person are the same qi which is continuously coursing
through your body. The flow of qi is the body’s equivalent of running
a virus scan or a disk scan on your computer. The qi is ceaselessly
monitoring the body’s activities and movements at the micro and
macroscopic levels, and making adjustments where need be. Stress
impedes the flow of qi and causes gaps in the monitoring process.
It is as if a technician charged with monitoring the machinery of a
large laboratory finds half of the doors inexplicably locked against
him as he makes his rounds. When the body is dominated by tension,
it loses its chief technician and mechanic, qi. This is when
breakdowns in the system occur: headaches, stiff shoulders,
backache, poor digestion, constipation, sleep disorders, irregular
periods, skin eruptions, and worse.
A Question of Balance
In thirty years of learning and practicing qi medicine, no one has
ever said to me, “Dr. Fromm, I am just too damned relaxed. Isn’t there
anything you can do to put a little tension in my life?” Should I ever
meet such a person, I would treat him for narcolepsy.
Our bodies tense when we inhale and relax when we exhale. If it
were only as easy as breathing to maintain the balance between
tension and relaxation, the health status of most of the world would
improve dramatically. Unfortunately, the balance scales of our daily
lives are heavily weighted in favor of tension. With tension comes a
loss of flexibility and with a loss of flexibility comes an accompanying
loss of durability. As I have frequently written, health is not a matter of
strength or “fitness,” but a matter of flexibility, both mental and
physical. The example I gave above of a clenched fist as a total loss
of flexibility was an extreme one, but I frequently treat bodies that
have reached that extreme, and even more frequently encounter
bodies that are on their way to becoming that extreme.
One easy way to relax a body and clear a mind of tension is to
send qi into the spine. The flow of qi through the spine is a very quick
and effective means of relaxation. This is how I begin most of my
treatment sessions. Though this brief treatment excellent means of
relaxation, it does not go so far as to restore and maintain the
equilibrium of tension and relaxation throughout the body, including
the organs. And I can think of almost no one who would want to see
me daily in order to relax.
The unimpeded flow of qi will restore the body’s tension/relaxation
equilibrium and arouse its latent powers.
But how to achieve that goal? The answer lies in the working of qi
upon the extrapyramidal motor system (EMS) and upon the
autonomic nervous system (ANS).
The Extrapyramidal Motor System
The extrapyramidal motor system and the autonomic nervous
system govern all facets of the balance of tension and relaxation
within the body. The application of qi to the EMS will trigger a flow of
energy throughout that system and throughout the ANS. This energy
flow will bypass the central nervous system and transcend thought
(conscious behavior). It will sweep away blockages and barriers to the
smooth passage of qi. It will remove tension and promote relaxation,
and will restore the functioning of organs to their original integrity. In
Japanese, the exercise promoting the uninhibited flow of qi is called
kiryū, flowing qi.
Kiryū creates physical anarchy in a way we have not experienced
since early childhood. We were then free to respond to the body’s
demands and express its striving for health any way we liked. We
could fart, belch, burp, roll around on the floor, cry, yell and scream,
jump and run, giggle uncontrollably…all with impunity. As we aged
and learned manners and entered society, we learned to suppress a
fart, squelch a belch, curb our physical impulses, etc. In other words,
we repress and suppress all the hundreds of little release
mechanisms designed to rid ourselves of tension.
The universe, like us, is in a constant state of movement. There is
nothing alive that is static. We move at the sub-atomic, atomic, and
cellular levels. Our blood circulates, our breath moves our lungs and
rib cage, the endocrine system never rests, and our brain is in
constant communication with every inch of our body via neural
pathways.
Yet we feel self-conscious about movement. We join movement
classes and dance classes and exercise classes in order to have a
safe and approved environment in which to move in a manner
different from our “everyday” manner. No one seems to notice that
while our minds are in constant motion, our bodies hardly move in
proportion in our daily life.
Social conventions state that the fewer our movements, the more
well-behaved we are. “Children should be seen and not heard.” We
take pride when our young children do not run around and make
noise in a restaurant, but sit with a minimum of movement and talk.
“We are good parents,” we think, “we have taught our children selfcontrol.
Now we can enjoy our meal.”
Looked at from your own physiology, stress can “teach” you selfcontrol.
Stress can impair the movements of cells, nerves, muscles,
and organs so that they sit quietly doing nothing. What you applaud
in your children’s behavior you look askance at in your body’s
behavior. Your palate fails to function and you do not enjoy your meal,
or your digestion fails to function and you do not enjoy your meal, or
your cleansing mechanism fails to function and you do not release
your meal…you would like to get your body “moving again” to
improve your health and enjoyment of life’s little pleasures.
The EMS and ANS, stimulated by qi, use any and all of our original
release mechanisms to promote relaxation and restore our bodies to
a healthy equilibrium.
The body is always adjusting and fine-tuning itself. Kiryū releases
the body’s full potential to adjust and fine-tune.
And just as each person has his own anatomy and quality of qi, so
each person reacts in subtly different ways to kiryū. There are,
however, a number of characteristic responses to kiryū.
1. The most common, indeed universal, response is uninhibited
movement. Your body may begin to twitch spasmodically, shake,
shiver, or sway. You may feel you want to walk or simply lie on the
floor moving your feet or legs. You may feel like flapping your arms or
shaking your wrists or snapping your fingers or all of the above.
The qi will naturally go to any part of the body that is over-tense,
and seek to relax it through movement. If you have bruised your
right elbow, you may expect your arm to shake so that the muscles
relax and the elbow joint gently moves. If you have a headache,
you may expect your head to sway and your neck to swivel in order
to relax the muscles along the 1st and 2nd cervical vertebrae (C1
and C2).
Movements are never violent. They are always pleasurable.
2. Yawning is a typical response. You would be surprised how many
people do not yawn at all. Or cannot yawn at all. Yawning is a sign of
health, a sign that the body is capable of relaxation. People who
cannot yawn are destined to sleep dysfunction and lower back pain.
Kiryū stimulates the body to yawn and to stretch. When you have
done kiryū for some months, you find that you begin to yawn and
stretch just at the thought of inducing kiryū.
3. A release of vocalized sounds is a common response. This could
be laughter or giggling, it could be a moan, it could be humming, it
could be singing, it could be noises pushed out with your breath.
4. A release of fluids frequently occurs. Tears are common in the case
of women, less so in men. A woman may suddenly feel “emotional,”
not necessarily happy or sad, but having an irrepressible desire to
cry, releasing both fluid and sounds at the same time.
As the muscles in the jaw and neck relax, the body may produce a
lot of saliva which fills the mouth.
Another type of fluid is mucus from the nose.
And finally, the body may sweat profusely without becoming
feverish. The sweat may come from the entire body, or it may be
localized, such as from the scalp or armpits.
5. The stomach and intestines may gurgle and rumble as they are
released from their usual bondage of tension.
The effect of kiryū is a release from tension. You feel remarkably
relaxed and clear-headed. Minor aches and pains vanish, and there is
usually a sensible diminution of major aches and pains. The
cumulative effect of kiryÅ«—that is, to make kiryÅ« a daily or thriceweekly
part of your health regimen—is to promote deep, refreshing
sleep, improve digestion and muscle tone, strengthen the body’s
immune system, and keep the cleansing system functioning
effectively.
Ultimately, the effect of qi upon the EMS and ANS will be to
sensitize the organism to fulfill its potential for adaptive power.
Kiryū is the cheapest, easiest, and most effective preventive
medicine measure ever devised. Kiryū is performed naturally in the
womb by the fetus as it swims and kicks and blows bubbles, etc. It
can be self-induced as one ages, even in the very old.
Because kiryū stimulates and strengthens the immune system,
people with artificial body parts should pay attention to side effects
when they perform the procedure. Their bodies may seek to reject the
artificial “intruder.” This is not common, but it may happen.
Artificial body parts include heart valves, pins or screws in bones,
breast implants, pacemakers, artificial joints, etc. Artificial body parts
do not include teeth fillings or other dental work.
Therese and I have been doing kiryū alone and in tandem since
1981, and consider it the core and mainstay of our health regimen. We
teach people how to do kiryū at our clinic, and instructions for selfinducing
kiryÅ« are found in my book “Qi Energy for Health and
Healing”.
ORIENTAL HOLISTIC MEDICINE FOLK WISDOM
Be aware of your body.
Be aware of your perceptions.
Keep in mind that not every physical
Sensation is a symptom of a terminal illness.
Drink tea and nourish life;
With the first sip, joy;
With the second sip, satisfaction;
With the third sip, peace;
With the fourth, a Danish.
Breathe in, Breathe out.
Forget this and attaining Enlightenment will
Be the least of your problems.
Jewish Buddhism:
If there is no self,
Whose arthritis is this?
Deep inside you are ten thousand flowers.
Each flower blossoms ten thousand times,
Each blossom has ten thousand petals.
You might want to see a specialist.
Beyond Valium,
Peace is knowing one’s child
Is an internist.
Accept misfortune as a blessing.
Do not wish for perfect health,
or a life without problems.
What would you talk about?
Her lips near my ear,
Aunt Sadie whispers the name
of her friend’s disease.
[If you say it out loud it will come to you.]
Buddhists say Life is an illusion without beginning or end. A viable person does not exist.
Christians say a person is viable at conception.
Hindus say a person is a viable person for countless life-cycles.
Jews say is a person becomes viable when he/she passes the medical boards.
[To Combat Anxiety]
Be here now.
Be someplace else later.
Is that so complicated?
The Tao does not speak
The Tao does not blame
The Tao does not take sides
The Tao has no expectations
The Tao demands nothing of others
The Tao is not human
The Torah says, Love your neighbor as yourself
The Buddha says, There is no self
Whew! that let’s us off the hook.
From the Early Han Dynasty ca. 200 B.C.E
A physician was called to a distant village where the headman was gravely ill. The doctor did what he could, but the man died within thirty minutes of the doctor’s arrival. The doctor presented the village with a bill for five gold coins. The villagers were outraged.
“Did you cure him?” one asked.
“Obviously not,” replied the physician.
“Then did you kill him?” asked another villager.
“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous,” said the physician.
“Well then,” said a third, "if you neither killed him nor cured him, you did nothing at all, and yet you demand five gold coins from us.”
“Yes,” said the physician, “I must insist on my fee.”
At this, the villagers attacked him. The physician was forced to run for his life. He ran through fields and over hills and through small defiles, always with the villagers at his heels eager to catch him. Finally, he reached the bank of a wide river and dove in. Not a single villager could swim, so the physician was able to swim to safety on the other side. It was late at night before he returned to his home.
He found his dutiful son reading a medical textbook by the glow of some fireflies he had captured. The physician was furious.
“Worthless boy,” he yelled, “why do you waste your time reading a medical textbook when you could be learning to swim?!”
[Nowadays doctors learn to drive.]
From the Early Han Dynasty ca. 100 B.C.E
A certain doctor advertised his skill in curing curvature of the spine. Even if a man’s back was bent like a bow, even if the head touched the feet he could make the man straight as an arrow.
A man went to him for treatment, whereupon the doctor put him between two boards, and bound them tighter and tighter together, the man yelling with pain. At last the doctor got him quite straight, but he was also quite dead. When the man’s family made a fuss, the doctor said, “I guaranteed to straighten his back, not that he should live through it.”
[Always enquire about possible/probable side-effects.]
The New New Testament or The Theology of Health
And God populated the earth with broccoli and cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.
And Satan created McDonalds. And McDonalds brought forth the 99-cent double cheeseburger. And Satan said to Man, “You want fries with that?” And Man replied, “Supersize them.” And Man gained pounds.
And God created the healthful yoghurt, that Woman might keep her figure that Man found so fair.
And Satan brought forth chocolate. And Woman gained pounds.
And God said, “Try my crispy fresh salad.”
And Satan brought forth ice cream. And Woman gained pounds.
And God said, “I have sent you heart-healthy vegetables and olive oil with which to cook them.”
And Satan brought forth chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained pounds and his bad cholesterol went through the roof.
And God brought forth running shoes and Man resolved to lose those extra pounds.
And Satan brought forth cable TV with remote control so Man would not have to toil to change channels between ESPN and ESPN2. And Man gained pounds.
And God said, “You are running up the score, Devil.”
And God brought forth the potato, a vegetable naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition.
And Satan peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy center into chips and deep-fat fried them. And he created sour cream dip also. And Man clutched his remote control and ate the potato chips laden with cholesterol.
And Satan saw and said, “It is good.”
And man went into cardiac arrest.
And God sighed, and created quadruple bypass surgery.
And Satan created HMOs.
USEFUL HEALTH HINT
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
You are driving to the market.
Life is good.
AUTUMN SEASON CHANGE, YOUR BODY, GLOBAL WARMING
Few of us believe that the change of seasons exerts a physiological effect on the body. After all, thanks to thermal technology, we can live and work at a constant temperature throughout the year. New Zealand and Chile provide the Northern Hemisphere with summer fruits and vegetables during our winter months, and I have no doubt that we reciprocate the favor during their winter months. Refrigerators and freezers preserve food well beyond their natural lifespan. Man-made fibers resist the winter cold with as little weight as summer cottons. Clean drinking water is piped into our homes year-round, and, until recently, we did not have to contend with seasonal droughts or floods for the precious fluid. The length of each day is unvarying thanks to electric lighting. We have just as long a workday during the “short” days of winter as during the “long” days of summer. Neither scorching heat nor arctic blasts prevent us from socializing with our friends thanks to well-equipped automobiles. Movie theaters, playhouses, sports arenas, and other places of amusement and entertainment offer us diversion throughout the year.
The list of devices, techniques, and facilities to baffle and defeat the environmental changes of the seasons goes on and on.
Stephen Jay Gould wrote that the three greatest factors extending human life were the discovery of sanitation and hygiene, the invention of the X-ray (allowing us to see under the skin), and the discovery of penicillin. Whereas life was once “nasty, brutish, and short,” it is now no longer short. However…
THE CAVEMAN IN YOU
Human life was conducted in caves and mud huts for much longer than it has been conducted in centrally heated condos and tract homes with all the modern conveniences.
Put simply, we have not yet evolved into our contemporary living spaces.
You may revel in the fact that you are a Homo Sapien with a university degree and a six figure income, but physiologically, you are still a cave-dweller, and as susceptible to all the physiological seasonal changes as your hairy forebears.
There are actually only two primary seasonally induced changes, but each of these induces smaller changes throughout the body in a ripple effect. The body is always adapting/fine tuning itself to the subtle changes produced by season change.
The two primary changes are, of course, tension and relaxation.
The body is in a constant state of flux as it expands and contracts. It expands (relaxes) in the warm and hot months, and contracts (tenses) in the cool and cold months. There may be as much as an inch difference in your height between the hot and cold seasons.
The body tenses from the feet upwards, and relaxes from the head downwards. You may visualize a wave starting from the soles of your feet and working its way slowly upwards, and then, reaching the crown of your head, beginning its descent to the ground. The wave never ceases from the moment of birth until the moment of death.
The body does not begin to adapt to the season when the season changes, but well before so that it enters the season fully prepared for the environmental change. The body will never be caught off-guard by season change, unless you abuse it to the extent it is unable to change. Left to its own healthy devices, the body will never have to play catch up or slow down with the change of seasons.
So, for example, the body begins its change for winter in late August or early September. The body is always one step ahead of the season.
BASIC SEASON CHANGE
(ANTIPODEAN READERS SHOULD INVERT THE SEASONS)
Autumn Changes (Late August to Mid-October)
The body needs to contract: skin, hair, teeth, and internal organs all begin to tense. However, we place demands on our body in the form of activities that hinder the contracting process. We work just as long hours; we still attend PTA meetings; we maintain an active schedule to fulfill duties and obligations.
In order to promote and facilitate the contracting process, the body will become “tired.” We do not feel as energetic as usual, and this forces us to cut back our activities. This tiredness is manifested by tension in the spine, particularly at T1-4, and weakness in L3 and L4. If the body cannot obtain rest by means of this tiredness, it will next resort to catching colds.
The ankles begin to tighten and stiffen at this time. It is important to rotate the ankles in order to keep them flexible.
The sweat glands, hitherto wide open, begin to close in order to protect the skin. The skin itself begins to tighten as if “battening down the hatches” against the cold of winter. This battening down process accelerates as the air becomes cooler and drier. Women frequently get dry, flaky skin. The dryness begins at the shins and calves, and progresses up the body to the scalp.
The female pelvis tenses and contracts. When women get an autumn cold or feel tired, this may lead to menstrual irregularity and/or lower back ache.
As the body contracts, the pain of old wounds and blows may resurface, and muscle ache, rheumatic-like pain, and other aches and pains arise.
Small children are prone to ear ache and nose bleeds at this time.
The stomach contracts, however most people continue eating the same quantities of food as during summer. This can lead to more tiredness, even to fatigue as the stomach struggles to cope.
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN NATURE CHANGES FASTER THAN WE DO?
A healthy body is characterized by flexibility and adaptability. We have seen that though humans have superficially adapted to modern technology which marginalizes the seasonal experience, we remain in the thrall of physiological season change. What is now occurring in the natural world is putting that physiological season change out of joint. I am referring specifically to global warming and climate change. This change for the worse is aided and abetted by air pollution, noise pollution, water pollution (thanks to fracking and agricultural/livestock waste discharge), and chronic tension in our daily lives. The tension alone will replace flexibility with rigidity, and adaptability with dullness.
Our caveman physiology is not capable of adapting to global warming and climate change fast enough to keep us healthy at times of seasonal change. California is now in its fourth year of drought, and has been experiencing record high temperatures. Rather than easing us into Autumn, we are being pushed and pulled between Summer and Fall because of the spikes and drops in temperature and humidity. The fruits of our garden were all a month early this year, and not as succulent or tasty as in years past.
I have noticed both in ourselves and those we treat that adaptation to seasonal change has been a start and stop, progress and regress phenomenon for the past year.
This has led to a significant increase in aches and pains among our clients, especially from old injuries and wounds. We are also seeing digestion problems in people who formerly had none. Finally, and in the long run, the most pernicious problem is a decline in healthy sleep. People are complaining of feeling less refreshed and having less energy despite sleeping the same amount of time. This problem has to do with quality of breath: the shallower the breathing, the less refreshing the sleep. It is becoming less and less what Edward Young, the 18th century British poet, called “Tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy Sleep.”
Then there is the tension factor. I was recently in the North Shore of Kauai, the soi-disant paradise. I went “to get away from it all”. The traffic congestion on the only road was, in relative terms, as bad as the congestion on Los Angeles freeways. Lots of honking, barking, and name calling from Mustang to Camaro and back. And this is where people go to relax! Try and find beach parking! I was happy to return to the place where I expect traffic congestion, and it is free.
Physical tension has increased with the accelerating political polarization of American society. I receive a dozen emails a day from a dozen organizations warning me of Obama’s secret agenda to destroy America (how can it be secret if they know it?), and another dozen petitions to sign each day to stop war, despoliation of the environment, and the careers of mean-spirited, avaricious politicians who oppose Obama. I feel myself tense at the right-wing press’s demonization of foreign countries including Russia, China, Iran, France, Mexico, and every northern European country with socialized medicine. Interestingly, they hardly ever refer to North Korea, which really is demonic. The chasm between corporate aggressiveness and consumer passivity is creating tension as more and more people struggle to climb out of debt. Police behavior in African-American communities creates grave concern among the black male community at large. Finally, there are the people whose tension accrues from worrying about all of the above.
Welcome TMJ, neck ache, shoulder ache, lower back ache, acid reflux, gastric ulcers, menstrual irregularities, miscarriages, headaches, and unrelenting worry, frustration, and anger that corrodes the organs and removes our sense of fun. You have come to the Home of Tension, which enlarges by the day.
What to do?
I only know what works for me and mine. Turn off the news. Make time for fun alone and with loved ones. Enjoy your food. Eating “healthy” while disliking the food will do you little good. Do exercise that you enjoy. Engage your mind in books, music, and projects outside your work. Do kiryu daily. It is the healthy person’s meditation. Be mindful of when you are tense, and breathe deeply to remove the tension. Be aware of the height of your shoulders and the tension in your neck. Let the shoulders drop. Stay away from anger unless it is justified, and then move on from it. Do not harbor it. Make money, but not at the expense of your health or your intimate relationships. Have good and plentiful laughter. Do not become preoccupied with time unless your are an Olympic sprinter or a chess grandmaster. To unwind, try the Japanese martini: a long, hot bath. And finally.....
A MILLION DOLLARS WORTH OF ADVICE FOR FREE!!
Always greet bad news or an upsetting sight with an exhale. It is “natural” to suck in one’s breath, hold it, and “forget” to breathe. The sudden inhalation tenses the body, and gives trauma a home. The trauma/emotional distress will reside in the rib cage, the upper back, the stomach, and in the scalp. It can linger for years.
Exhale at bad news, and the body will relax. Emotional distress will be temporary, and you will soon recover from it.
HEALING AND HEALTH MAINTENANCE
An elderly man, call him Al, was referred to me by his physician. He had a serious complaint. Three years before he had fallen in his bathroom and fractured his three lower vertebrae, L3-4-5. Surgery to repair the damage had left him in such pain that he went to a reputable pain management clinic for relief, but ended up without relief from pain. The clinic did not know what to do for him other than prescribe opioid painkillers, but as is now well-documented and well-known, opioids become counter-productive as the body develops a tolerance, even an addiction, to them. He was afraid to live without the drugs, fearing that he would be overwhelmed by pain.
What was apparent at first glance was his unhealthy posture. His right side had collapsed, and so he stood and walked listing to the right. He said he had always been weak on the right side, but this chronic listing came from an extreme weakness. I assumed that the invasive surgical procedure had left him with a severely weakened core by damaging the muscles on the right side. The surgery had left him with a damaged core, but not from damaged muscles.
A simple hands-on examination using qi to detect the location and quality of the vertebrae revealed a sudden and dramatic drop-off from L-2 to the pelvic girdle. In other words, his three large lumbar vertebrae were sunk into the muscles around them, and were receiving no stabilizing support from the pelvis and sacrum. The spinous process of each vertebrae was stabbing the muscle. The pain must have been indescribable and intolerable.
My dedicate healing self wanted to get away from Al as quickly and as far as possible. For me to undertake his healing would be one of those outrageous ordeals you read about in fairy tales, except without being rewarded with the hand of a fair princess.
But he looked at me with big, sad eyes and asked if I thought I could help him. I said that I could, but it would take time. He would have to be patient and consistent in his treatments. He would need an optimistic outlook, and the belief that he could get better. I like to err on the conservative side, so if the process takes less time than I predict, the patient is super-happy. I told him it would take about four months of weekly treatments. In the end, it took less than three months.
Al was so pleased that he had received a diagnosis of his pain that he agreed to whatever I said with alacrity. In his eyes, however, was a look of some skepticism as this was his first foray into the world of “small” or alternative medicine, as opposed to the hospitals, clinics, and physicians he had grown up with, but could no longer rely on. I suppose it is hard being in your 80’s and meeting someone like me who has no equipment, not even an acupuncture needle.
I could feel myself making progress with his spine, and little by little it began to move upwards. I knew that he would be in pain until I had completely elevated it to sit snugly on the pelvic girdle. And so at each treatment I acted as cheerleader and thanked him for his confidence in me. To which he would ruefully reply, “I have no choice. You’re all I have.” And at the end of each treatment, I told him we were making progress and he would soon be out of pain. To which he replied with a sigh of resignation, “Your lips to God’s ears.”
Okay, he was not yet an enthusiastic fan, but at least he kept coming.
One day I finally raised the Titanic. His vertebrae floated up, and the concavity in his back was gone. As was his pain. “Mallory for Mayor” was the order of the day.
We had a small celebration with our wives, and I let him radiate happiness in his sensation of health for a couple of weeks, and then gave him the “bad” news. This was not the end of the process, but the first step. I was not happy that he still listed to the right, though his list was not as noticeable as when we met. I felt that he was putting a strain on his spine, which at his age, could lead to more discomfort, even pain. I told him he needed maintenance to keep the spine where it was, and some therapy to strengthen and bring flexibility to his core. He, however, was pleased with the status quo, and not interested in maintenance.
He would come in for treatment from time to time to fix slight aches and pains. His visits became less frequent and finally stopped. When after a hiatus I saw him again, his listing had become pronounced, and he was having back pain. I did what I could, but he still failed to have regular treatments.
Thirty months after his release from back pain, his back went into major spasms. The spasms and pain started at the lower thoracic vertebrae, around T-11-12, about where the ribs end. He was too pain stricken to leave his bed, much less get in his car and visit me, so I paid a house call. It was what I had feared: the back muscles had been overtaxed by his irregular posture and had seized up like giant cramps. I told him that the spasms would work their way down the spine and out of the body through the legs. He would just have to tough it out. He returned to opioid use,
and decided that traditional medicine was now the way to go.
To that end, he managed to wangle an appointment with “the top spine guy” at a major hospital. I almost said to him, “Run if he mentions a facet joint problem; it means he doesn’t know what to do,” but I held my tongue, not wanting to influence him in a negative way. Sure enough, the top guy said facet joint problem of the lumbars, and gave him four cortisone injections in the spine. This not only increased his pain, but set his healing process back a month. I wanted to cry, so I could imagine how he felt.
It took another month, but the pain moved down the spine to the sacral area, then lodged in the hip area, and began a descent down the legs. Not only had he been taking opioids for three years prior to seeing me, but had started again three months before, together with anti-depressants. I had a bad premonition when I checked his liver, but again I said nothing. I didn’t want to scare him, and I hoped that my premonition would prove to be an illusion. It didn’t.
He went into involuntary detox mode, what the Japanese call gedoku (releasing poisons). This meant uncontrollable and non-stop diarrhea. I explained that this was a healthy reaction to his lengthy use of morphine derivatives, and a precursor to full healing. He insisted on taking anti-diarrhea medications though I told him they would have no effect, which they did not. I am not sure that he believed my explanation of detox, and found incontinence to be emotionally more trying than dealing with back spasms.
The gedoku lasted a little more than two weeks, and when it ended, he was completely pain free. And here is the best part: his spine was straight, he had a strong core, and he did not list at all. His body had automatically corrected itself. I believe the correction had been set in motion by his many qi treatments. The qi had sensitized him to the point where the muscles would work to heal themselves once they had become strained. I was not about to tell him this, since there was no Mallory for Mayor at this point. Just a huge relief at being “normal” again.
The story does not end there. Five months of bedrest had caused him to lose strength in his lower body. The muscles in his legs, particularly the right leg, had lost muscle mass and tone. His quadricep muscles were so weak and flabby that they could not support his right knee, which buckled from time to time. He fell a few times, which scared him.
I paid frequent house calls, and did a combination of qi and physical therapy with him. Forty years of doing aikido has taught me something about strength and flexibility, and three years of keeping my aged mother upright taught me something about therapy for the elderly. He now walks erect with a cane, and I think he will be able to leave off the cane in a couple of months.
An odyssey is a journey that begins and ends in the same place. Al’s odyssey has ended. He is now back to where he was prior to his fall five years ago. He is one of my top five fans, and treats my utterances on health and medicine as astute and even oracular.
I tell Al’s story because the cessation of pain does not necessarily mark the end of treatments. I can well appreciate the relief of someone who has been ridden by pain for so long that he cannot see beyond freedom from pain. I was like that myself once. But I was so scared of lapsing back into pain that I took
Dr. Matsuura’s advice to heart, and have kept up with maintenance these past 35 years. As Grandma used to say as she clucked her tongue, “An ounce of prevention…” Grandma was wise.
A Magic Moment of Ki Healing
This story happened about twenty-five years ago. I was living half the year in Tokyo. I made friends with a restaurateur/chef named Koichi Yamamoto, whom I called by the diminutive Yamachan. He had a small, gourmet seafood restaurant in Kagurazaka where I dined at least once a week, sometimes more.
As a Buddhist, Yamachan believed in karma, and was certain that the two of us had been brothers in a former life. He said he had two lucky charms: hearses and me. Business was good on days when he saw a hearse and when I ate at his restaurant.
The restaurant had a counter that sat five, and three tables that could seat four each. The kitchen was narrow and on the other side of the counter, clearly visible from any part of the restaurant. When I was alone I always sat at the far end of the counter where I could chat with Yamachan’s waitress/wife.
This incident occurred on a Monday night. The restaurant was closed on weekends, and Mondays were a busy time for Yamachan. He had a lot of preparations to make. I arrived after work at 8:00, and there were six customers. By 9:00, a foursome had entered which made eleven people. The foursome ordered grilled fish. The gas grill was on a shelf above the refrigerator, and Yamachan had to climb on a step stool to light it.
He ignited the grill, stepped down off the stool, when a mouse who had spent the weekend sleeping in the grill, leapt out of the grill and into the breast pocket of Yamachan’s chef’s jacket. Yamachan cried out in surprise and put his hands over his breast pocket to keep the mouse from escaping.
Hearing Yamachan’s startled cry, the customers got to their feet asking what was the matter.
“My heart, my heart,” Yamachan yelled, and staggered out of the kitchen into the restaurant, where he fell supine on the floor.
The customers whipped out their cell phones to call 911, but Yamachan stopped them.
“There’s no time for an ambulance,” he said weakly. “That white guy at the end of the counter, he’s a ki healer. He can save me. Bring him over.”
Thinking that Yamachan was dying and entrusting his final moments to my care, I rushed to his side.
“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”
He pulled my ear to his lips and whispered, “Get this f…ing mouse out of my pocket and out of the restaurant without them seeing you do it.”
I stood up and ordered everyone to stand back and give Yamachan air. I opened the restaurant door to let in a breeze. I knelt over Yamachan so the customers couldn’t see him, replaced his hands with mine, and went through the motions of a CPR heart massage. Little by little, I got the mouse into my hands. I shouted, “This is the healing moment!”, and ran out of the restaurant into the street where I released the stricken mouse who probably did have a heart attack.
I returned to Yamachan and knelt over him, continuing my heart massage and mumbling healer-like words. I should have been wearing feathers and shaking a rattle.
Yamachan opened his eyes and exclaimed, “It’s a miracle. The white guy saved me. Thank you, thank you. I owe you my life. Dinner is on me.”
He got to his feet and dusted himself off.
“I haven’t felt this good in years,” he said, and went back into the kitchen.
The ten customers clustered around me, begging for my business cards.
That was the magic moment that jump-started my practice.
