Perhaps I have always had a certain type of patience with physical pain. You can get used to practically anything as the body has a wonderful way of dealing with it, the loss of consciousness in extremis. Mental pain is a different matter and I'm still puzzling over this one.
Most Westerners have trouble coping with even the slightest pain wheras oriental people seem to have a different approach, maybe they are used to enduring hardships while Westerners are often cossetted and anaesthetised to such an extent where nothing should hurt and take pain killers for the slightest twinge. It is my opinion that pain is the body's way of telling you something so on many occasions it is foolish to mask it.
As usual I have gone off track a bit. Doctors in the West treat symptoms, not the cause thereby causing much confusion with their patients who expect instant relief and nothing else. Eastern medicine has a more holistic approach and rather than instant relief, we can expect more pain before the hiatus which brings eventual relief. Sometimes called a healing crisis by the hippies and practitioners of the weirder therapies, this does seem to manifest in many oriental therapies.
I have no problem with this idea and will stoically take bitter herbs, be patient with continuing pain and undergo all sorts of difficulties if the problems will eventually be lessened. It is annoying however not to know how long this process will take. Sometimes when the treatment requires energy manipulation or a gradual process of change this can take a long time. It would certainly be helpful to know how long it will take to run it's course and what sort of time scale we ae dealing with. Some Westerners have difficulty in grasping this concept and stop the treatment when things get worse. To quote a friend "A bit of pain never hurt anyone"! Daft, but I think I know what he is getting at.
I started to write this in the early hours as I have just had jabs prior to travelling to Hainan so feel restless and my arms feel as if they have been kicked and punched. I know that this feeling will pass so there is no point in worrying about it and taking pain killers, no problem. I know what to expect. In eastern medicine we are not aways told if and how long the discomfort will take to go. No wonder people give up if the condition seems to be worsening! A bit more information from the practitioner would be very helpful. We are not expecting accuracy here, will it be days, months or years before our problem is resolved?
My western doctor will tell me how soon I can expect an improvement in my condition and whether my illness may be serious or life threatening. Chinese doctors seem to expect that we have faith in what they do even if it takes a long time and things will temporarily get worse. A difficult concept for westerners as we associate this idea with "faith healing" and new age therapies. I'll try to keep open-minded about all healers of whatever type and, personally, like a combination of Eastern and Western medicine although I do have a leaning towards the Eastern as I find it fascinating and it certainly seems to accomplish things that western medicine can't do.
One thing that I haven't mentioned is the idea of taking charge of one's own health. By this I mean being sensible about diet and exercise and not doing anything to endanger physical or mental well-being. Easier said than done of course as it is easy to get into bad habits. Strangely enough, this is a fairly new idea in the West although it lies at the root of Eastern medicine. I like the idea that doctors are paid while their patient is healthy but the payment stops when the patient falls sick! Prevention is better than cure.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Monday, 17 August 2009
A matter of life and death
As well as being the title of one of my favourite films, a matter of life and death has been a subject curent in my mind. At my age (63) I suppose that it is natural that some of my contemporaories will fade away. I don't seem to experience grief in the same way that others do. I am of course sorry that I will not see this person again but people frequently enter and leave our lives in other circumstances leaving a gap where they used to be and we cope. The dynamics of relationships are frequently reorganising themselves.
When a person has been in physical or mental pain it is good to know that they will no longer be suffering. Their component parts will dissolve into and be absorbed by the universe. It is always sad to lose a friend but we are presented with the opportunity to meet new ones. I am pleased to have had the opportunity to see both my parents shortly before they died. They seemed to know what was about to happen and we were at peace with each other. I probably felt more grief as a child as I didn't understand the process. The saddest part is the folks that are left behind who can't cope with the loss.
A friend once told me after I had a mastectomy that I should grieve for my lost breast! I found this rather comical and could never see the point. As far as I was concerned it had been there to keep my bra in place and balance the other one so how could I grieve for it? As I have always been well endowed it was a good way to lose weight.
When a dearly loved pet dies, I am very sad as I had care of this creature and tried my best to make it comfortable and happy. Maybe losing a child is like this but I'll never know. Maybe it is different when death is unexpected.
A friend who died recently has given instructions that the mourners should wear red, what a wonderful idea. Peter Sellars left instructions in his will for the Glen Miller version of "In the mood" to be played at his funeral although he actually hated it as it was excruciantingly cheerful! I have stipulated that the awful Tai Chi Melody to be played at mine! Haha! Gotcha!
It is a curious fact that for years I have been wishing that I was dead and now I am glad to be alive. I'm not scared of dying as living is much more scary and much harder to do.
After a bad motor cycle accident many years ago I had a "near death experience", the typical "going along a white tunnel towards the light" thing. I remember going towards prople dressed in white who were talking together. When they saw me they said that it wasn't my time and I had to go back. I felt rather disappointed as this place seemed very pleasant and I wanted to stay.
After suffering a cardiac arrest on the operating table recently I had another strange experience. I immediately went into a space where there were beautiful sounds and colours that I had never heard or seen before which was an extremely pleasurable sensation. I came to after my heart was re-started and sat up on the operating table saying to the assembled medics "That was interesting!". I would like to think that being dead was like that but I strongly suspect that this was just the beginning of the process. If I find a way of sending a message when I'm dead I'll let you know.
When a person has been in physical or mental pain it is good to know that they will no longer be suffering. Their component parts will dissolve into and be absorbed by the universe. It is always sad to lose a friend but we are presented with the opportunity to meet new ones. I am pleased to have had the opportunity to see both my parents shortly before they died. They seemed to know what was about to happen and we were at peace with each other. I probably felt more grief as a child as I didn't understand the process. The saddest part is the folks that are left behind who can't cope with the loss.
A friend once told me after I had a mastectomy that I should grieve for my lost breast! I found this rather comical and could never see the point. As far as I was concerned it had been there to keep my bra in place and balance the other one so how could I grieve for it? As I have always been well endowed it was a good way to lose weight.
When a dearly loved pet dies, I am very sad as I had care of this creature and tried my best to make it comfortable and happy. Maybe losing a child is like this but I'll never know. Maybe it is different when death is unexpected.
A friend who died recently has given instructions that the mourners should wear red, what a wonderful idea. Peter Sellars left instructions in his will for the Glen Miller version of "In the mood" to be played at his funeral although he actually hated it as it was excruciantingly cheerful! I have stipulated that the awful Tai Chi Melody to be played at mine! Haha! Gotcha!
It is a curious fact that for years I have been wishing that I was dead and now I am glad to be alive. I'm not scared of dying as living is much more scary and much harder to do.
After a bad motor cycle accident many years ago I had a "near death experience", the typical "going along a white tunnel towards the light" thing. I remember going towards prople dressed in white who were talking together. When they saw me they said that it wasn't my time and I had to go back. I felt rather disappointed as this place seemed very pleasant and I wanted to stay.
After suffering a cardiac arrest on the operating table recently I had another strange experience. I immediately went into a space where there were beautiful sounds and colours that I had never heard or seen before which was an extremely pleasurable sensation. I came to after my heart was re-started and sat up on the operating table saying to the assembled medics "That was interesting!". I would like to think that being dead was like that but I strongly suspect that this was just the beginning of the process. If I find a way of sending a message when I'm dead I'll let you know.
Sunday, 16 August 2009
The first stop
I have had such an interesting day that I feel like making notes of some of it's curious contents. It all started with an invite to a Zen calligraphy workshop given by Sarah Moate Sensei in Exeter.
I had forgotten that there are many schools of Zen, this particular one was Rinzai Zen. Starting with chanting the Heart Sutra in Japanese was a great beginning but I was not expecting the subtle changes in intonation and the sheer VOLUME of it. A zazen period followed.
In the room there were two original Hakuin calligraphies. Being a dedicated Hakuin fan, I couldn't believe my eyes. They were not behind glass as in a museum but right here with the group as if the man himself were watching us. They seemed to be emanate qi.
Next was the calligraphy preceded by a short but powerful qigong set. Every thing about this calligraphy was different from the Chinese style that I had previously tinkered with. The brushes were much bigger and the horsehair bristles were stiffer, as one friend put it - it is like painting with a bog brush! Then there were formalities to be observed with great care taken over the handling and loading of the brush, correct posture and even breathing. This was calligraphy done with extreme focus and mindfulness. I felt quite scared at the prospect of making some awful faux-pas and felt clumsy in my movements.
Our first attempt was on newspaper but even so, the list of possibilities of making mistakes grew longer by the minute, remembering the effortless ease of my teacher's demonstration and making unfavourable comparisons with my clumsy attempts. Whoosh! The first one was done and was whisked away and disposed of before I had time to think. There were no recriminations, no awful post mortems on my messy lines. The idea then struck home - how silly, it is about the doing of it and not he finished product. Very sensible, very Zen. I could hear Hakuin laughing. I laughed with him.
After lunch an opportunity to try something on calligraphy paper. More qigong, demonstrations and directions about the ritual of performing the art. Working on a long piece of paper I was a little more confident now but this soon evaporated when my brush seemed to stick to the paper and provided some interesting angles in what should have been flowing lines! Somehow it didn't matter any more as, again, it was the doing of it that mattered and not the end result.
During the break I really had to go through some taiji and grabbed a friend to join me in a quiet spot for some practice. It felt so good.
The group was treated to an amazing demonstration of something that was completely new to me called a Hojo Kata. Apparently an ancient forerunner of kendo with similarites to aikido bokken forms, it was very slow, stylised and performed with great focus. The energy emitted at the ki-ais was powerful and somehow it was like looking at one of those old samurai wood block prints coming to life with the two performers faces looking like Japanese theatre masks.
Japanese arts seem to be very much about mindfulness and attention to detail which seems to form a strong framework and yet somehow this extreme focus provides a way of letting go which is very freeing and unrestrained. I am fascinated by this concept.
I had forgotten that there are many schools of Zen, this particular one was Rinzai Zen. Starting with chanting the Heart Sutra in Japanese was a great beginning but I was not expecting the subtle changes in intonation and the sheer VOLUME of it. A zazen period followed.
In the room there were two original Hakuin calligraphies. Being a dedicated Hakuin fan, I couldn't believe my eyes. They were not behind glass as in a museum but right here with the group as if the man himself were watching us. They seemed to be emanate qi.
Next was the calligraphy preceded by a short but powerful qigong set. Every thing about this calligraphy was different from the Chinese style that I had previously tinkered with. The brushes were much bigger and the horsehair bristles were stiffer, as one friend put it - it is like painting with a bog brush! Then there were formalities to be observed with great care taken over the handling and loading of the brush, correct posture and even breathing. This was calligraphy done with extreme focus and mindfulness. I felt quite scared at the prospect of making some awful faux-pas and felt clumsy in my movements.
Our first attempt was on newspaper but even so, the list of possibilities of making mistakes grew longer by the minute, remembering the effortless ease of my teacher's demonstration and making unfavourable comparisons with my clumsy attempts. Whoosh! The first one was done and was whisked away and disposed of before I had time to think. There were no recriminations, no awful post mortems on my messy lines. The idea then struck home - how silly, it is about the doing of it and not he finished product. Very sensible, very Zen. I could hear Hakuin laughing. I laughed with him.
After lunch an opportunity to try something on calligraphy paper. More qigong, demonstrations and directions about the ritual of performing the art. Working on a long piece of paper I was a little more confident now but this soon evaporated when my brush seemed to stick to the paper and provided some interesting angles in what should have been flowing lines! Somehow it didn't matter any more as, again, it was the doing of it that mattered and not the end result.
During the break I really had to go through some taiji and grabbed a friend to join me in a quiet spot for some practice. It felt so good.
The group was treated to an amazing demonstration of something that was completely new to me called a Hojo Kata. Apparently an ancient forerunner of kendo with similarites to aikido bokken forms, it was very slow, stylised and performed with great focus. The energy emitted at the ki-ais was powerful and somehow it was like looking at one of those old samurai wood block prints coming to life with the two performers faces looking like Japanese theatre masks.
Japanese arts seem to be very much about mindfulness and attention to detail which seems to form a strong framework and yet somehow this extreme focus provides a way of letting go which is very freeing and unrestrained. I am fascinated by this concept.
In response to things,
be like the moon in water.
Hakuin Ekaku
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