Voice and Conventions

Stonewash

Missed the conventions

In garden picking spinach

The salad was crisp.

There’s this illusion that it matters more when a certain somebody talks.  So people cling  onto his/her words and either fear or have faith in their effect.  Nothing like a campaign year to perpetuate that magic too, with hundreds of millions of us adhered to a screen, awed by what comes out of the mouths of candidates.

But the myth that their words hold any more power than yours or mine do must not be mistaken for the truth and hence, hold us captive and helpless. Read More

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Kneeling Needling: Acupuncture for Humanity

“Uh-oh.”

“We all need to get back down on our knees,” preacher Raleigh implores the congregation as a chorus of ‘Amens’ arises from the dutiful.  He had been illustrating the self-induced problems that we as a collective body, as a nation, and as individuals had made since getting up off our knees in a fever of adolescent obstinacy.  In delirium we decided that we could follow the sweet things of the world, the pretty and shiny and comfortable words and feelings; no need for humility because we knew all the answers.  They tickled our taste buds and had us coming back for more.

“Why?”

Upon realizing the error of our ways, why then do we incessantly lament over our reckless faux pas and, instead of applying our learning, perpetuate the grand gaucherie? Like a dog chasing his own tail: amusing at first and maddening thereafter.  Breaking free of these enigmatic questions by neglecting them, we ascend into the roots of our ways.  (‘Ascending’ into ‘roots’ may be a difficult conceptual image, but as we can learn from countless survival stories in real-life and in literature, the only honest way ‘up and out’ is to ‘go down and through’.)  But instead of being our roots, we remove ourselves from them and consciously view them from a new vantage point.  We become artists and mechanics working on a masterpiece and are able to see clearly what color and/or part we need to complete the piece.

“Huh?”

A common diagnosis in our society today, according to Chinese medicine is liver qi stagnation, or simply ‘being stuck in our ways.’  For instance, superstitions are fun for games, but when we begin to put all our faith into them – time-out.  Enough of the funny business. Superstitious beliefs, as drying cement, solidify when we forget that our models are only prototypes: symbols, mnemonic devices, templates to help us build a sound structure upon which to begin living.  But how exhausting it is to live by rigidity in a clearly dynamic world!  Would it even be living?  Even if the model intended to teach flow and balance, as most valid idol-ic images do—think food pyramid, a statue of a Buddha, or the Wu Xing diagram—they in themselves are obdurate and static.  Yet, the moment we realize we are taking the whole cosmology or system too seriously is one to rejoice indeed!  We can laugh out loud as we picture ourselves trying to authentically live our lives through the prism of a rigid model-idol.  We are free to be human again.  Our health is ready to be restored.

“Ha!”

Body positioning, or geomancy, plays an important factor in acupuncture as it does in Chinese philosophy, and as in Chinese philosophy, as it does in the universe.  How we position our bodies, whether consciously, not, or a little of both, communicates a great deal to our surrounding world.  As Raleigh made aware, kneeling is a way for us to offer sincere apologies and admit our lowliness.  In acupuncture, by lying prostrate and face-down we may acknowledge our weaknesses and communicate to the world that we are at that moment unable to be receptive to challenging stimuli.  It is a way to give our blood a rest.  During cupping, a face-down patient communicated that she was surrendering herself to the caring hands of an artist.  By lying face-up we similarly give our bodies the needed rest to realign, but we are also open to changes.  In this way the effects of acupuncture can be immediate.  A patient recently came into our clinic somber and in pain.  By the time I pulled his needles he was refilled with joyous stories: “When I was a grandkid we’d just sit around and talk with them [grandparents], but now they expect you to actually do stuff with them [grandkids].  I got my five-year old granddaughter saying to me on the seabed [family-room floor], ‘Mermaid-boy, you’re not flipping!’”

Aah.

Positioning ourselves with respect to our world is essentially how healing by acupuncture works.  Though we activate one pressure point, its effects are begotten elsewhere.  Similarly, in writing this I did not work from an outline or even delineate a definite end result, but began by simply getting on my knees and picking up a pen.  By my being activated, the healing flowed by some meridian to the organ—the body—that needed it.

© 2012, Amaya Engleking

Alamogordo

mc-apex_med_hr

Art: Michael Copeland

Hey you over there it’s my birthday come have a beer don’t mind the Doberman, name’s Prince, and I’m RD and that’s Paula, Tom, and Chris, was best man in my wedding. –It’s my birthday tomorrow,– that’s when Geronimo died. He’s my people. –So you’re his seed still running around.– You’re sexy, I like your hair. Don’t see that except on TV. Yeah, RD, tell her how that song goes. Anaawakoto matabalula laRead More

Lean on Me

Sometimes it is wise to simply let a trusted voice speak for you. Thanks, Jose.

Shenandoah Breakdown

Photograph by Jose Padua
Back then sausage, eggs, hash browns, and toast cost
under three dollars for breakfast any time of day
at Lesko’s on Avenue A. Cigarettes cost me about two
dollars a pack. A six pack of bad beer I could get
for about the same and I could drink cheaply at any
of the bars where I knew the bartender and I knew
a lot of bartenders. I could walk out of my apartment
on a Sunday morning still half-drunk after not sleeping
all night and see Sade taking a stroll on First Avenue.
Maybe she was on tour, maybe she had a place in town—
I didn’t know, but she was already a huge star.
When I smiled at her she smiled back at me with a smile
that could destroy every nightmare I’d ever had in my life.
She smiled back even though she had no idea
what I…

View original post 538 more words

Ragdoll

holdinghands

I’m a ragdoll, carried by my God

I hear Jesus speak

Speak in a language I do not know

He takes my limp hand in his

Looks at my thumbnail

Addresses the atoms by name

I understand

They are neither male nor female

Like God or colors Read More