a part of the song

to look without is to look within

to see another is to see oneself

strange things have happened to me on my journey of becoming a healer. when I was a child, my hands would get warm & I’d want to offer them to people who were hurting. sometimes when I would get close to someone I could “see” or feel or “know” the place or the way they were hurting. even very specifically the location or issue in their body. sometimes I would feel strange pains or emotions, unrelated to anything happening in my own life.

when I was in my last year of medical school, studying Chinese Medicine, I saw patients regularly in our school clinic. one particularly strange week, I woke up with a ganglion cyst on my wrist (a weird soft lump that moves around). I’d never had this before, & was (understandably) a bit concerned by the sudden body modification. I asked my supervisors about it, & how to treat it. a few days later it was gone. then, the following week, a patient showed up with a ganglion cyst in almost the same place.

these types of “coincidences” have happened at this point hundreds of times. I’ll get a hint of something strange, & then someone will come to a session with that exact thing. I’ll be sitting with someone & feel - sometimes with startling accuracy - exactly where & what the suffering is.

this kind of “knowing” might sound really strange, & I suppose it is. but I don’t think I’m particularly special here. the world is made up of energy. we are constantly in conversation - in song - with the world. I think with non-humans, this is a bit easier. you might feel it going out into a forest, or a field, or by a river. the forest tunes you. the river cleans you. the field opens you. you feel different, changed somehow. you are tuning. you are putting your song up next to the universe, & coming out different. or more yourself.

the conversation goes all ways. we affect each other. there is no avoiding it. this can be a bit frightening if you think about it. a lot of people are unconscious to this, swimming in the stream, or often if you’re sensitive at all - being flooded. if you’re tuning to chaos, to confusion, without a center - it will likely feel like a rollercoaster. this, I think, is why people numb. it’s too much. it’s all too much coming in. we’re tuning to static. & it’s loud.

so how do we do it? how do we remember our own heart beats? how do we tune to this deeper current of the universal song?

I am my best case study. I spend the most (all) time with myself. I’ve spent many years tuning. part if this is what a good friend of mine calls “energy hygiene,” or practices that help clear & clean my energy. nature, alone time, good food, sleep, walks, journaling, sound, energy work, prayer are all a part of these. & because I work with people who are going through all types of struggles, I also do specific energy clearing work in my space, body, & day before & after treatments.

beyond this fundamental energetic hygiene, I notice who I feel good around. I notice what types of gatherings, events, activities, etc. feed me, help me feel alive, connected, creative, curious. & which ones leave me feeling drained, cluttered, sluggish, or just plain exhausted. I frequently check in with my body & spirit about my capacity - which is wildly different depending on where I’m at in my menstrual cycle, any given week, & is deeply contextual & relational with the world around me. plot twist - there’s not figuring it out, it’s an ongoing practice.

I also have regular spiritual & creative practices that allow me to listen, examine, process, & discern what I need to change. I practice meeting whatever I find in myself with love & curiosity. it is not always fun. sometimes it is in fact, quite terrible. I try to be with this, too. to be with the discomfort & ask what it is trying to show me. also, I play. I sing (literally). I create. I dance. I snuggle with my cat. I spend time with my friends. although a lot of this is a solo-practice, we are inherently relational creatures. & when you change something on the inside - it affects other people. haven’t you ever felt terribly grumpy or sad or angry, & when you walked into the room - you changed the vibe? if you can begin to lift the judgement of what emotions or ways of being are “good” or “bad” (we get stuck here, it’s a loop I’ve traversed many a time), & just begin to notice the interplay, the effect, the conversation - the song. this is when I think, we can begin to hear that deeper song.

my practices help my “instrument” be alive & present. I mention all of this, because if I’m not in tune with myself - I will not be a good healer. things will be messy & confusing; it will be hard to discern what is mine & what is someone else’s. it will be much easier to let my own ideas get in the way of what is actually there. or I’ll get burnt out & exhausted. or take in everyone else’s energy & suffering as if it is my own. it will cause me harm. I will likely cause others harm.

all this isn’t something that I can just do & be done with - this is an everyday, many, many, many times a day practice. I am devoted to it. it is the only reason I’m able to do the healing work I do & also be a happy, healthy person.

from this practice of devotion, I turn to my practice as an acupuncturist & healer. I used to worry at the beginning of my clinic shifts in school - not knowing what I was going to encounter. would I know what to do? would I be able to help? people come with all kinds of things. some things I’ve seen, some things I’ve been trained for, & often (usually) something incredibly nuanced, specific, & contextual to them as a person. I remember feeling anxiety in the few minutes leading up to my shift. I would pause, empty my mind, & practice showing up fresh to whoever walked in my door.

several years later, I have a lot less worry, but I still practice this emptying. I ground into the earth, I open my mind to the sky, & let myself be a vessel for love to pass through. even with people that I work with regularly, & know many of the threads they carry - I try to keep this “way of unknowing.” I trust my training. I trust my tools. I trust that what I need to know & do will come to me in the moment. this is very quaker of me, rooted in that belief that when we gather together & are present - we will encounter light. if I come to the treatment table open, I will sense the way. sometimes this is easy, & feels like breathing. other times it takes all my smarts, all my curiosity, all my determination, & a healthy dose of trust in the universe.

attunement isn’t about having the answers. or even knowing the right points to needle (although I am very thankful for thorough training). to attune to another, I have to be ready to. I have to open, to witness & be willing to be with whatever is. it is a state of being that I practice regularly in my inner world. to approach whatever I find with curiosity. this requires an ever-growing well of self-love & trust. also a good dose of bravery. even if what I find is scary or overwhelming, can I be with it?

a lot of people need to be heard. seen. witnessed. by (& with) someone who isn’t scared of whatever we’ll find. early on with someone new, they’ll likely come to some scary topic, or fear, or old story - & they’ll hesitate. “this might sound crazy…” I’ll laugh & assure them, you are very unlikely to shock me. if I’m willing to be with whatever their song is - it makes it easier for them to be with it too. what a relief to be heard. to be able to speak one’s own language, & not have to translate, or make the self smaller. I love watching people become more themselves.

now we get to a session. I am here with whatever shows up. having a background in spiritual direction, I use this in the talking part of a session quite a lot. I listen. I see. I approach with curiosity. I often give “home work,” or applied practice suggestions. this could be a question to notice, an inner self-talk shift option, an art project, a relational suggestion, energy work, or journaling exercise. the biggest thing is - I don’t know the answer. ever. I can observe, I can question, I can notice, & I can act based on what I see, hear, feel, “know” - but it is all a mystery. this is where the good stuff happens.

if I don’t have some pre-ordained idea of what’s going on, I can be with someone & just listen to the moment. part of this is the talking, but in my work a lot of it is a conversation directly with the body. once someone is on the table, I listen to their pulse. the great teachers say you need to listen to thousands & thousands of pulses before you begin to know how to listen, so I am still a baby in this. I listen to the elements under my 3 fingers on each side. are they flowing into each other? is one piled up? is one hiding? I listen to the overall tone, the feeling, the vibe. is it tight? sad? buzzy? & then I leave room for the mystery & receive it in whatever form it comes - sometimes as an image, an emotion, a sense, or a question.

after this I look at the ears. the ear is a microsystem for the entire body, & it does not lie! there might be a mark or redness over a certain area - what’s going on with your low back? are your allergies up right now? I needle based on what I find.

then I move to the legs. I gently feel the channels with my fingertips. my style of acupuncture is deeply influenced by Japanese meridian therapy. this stream of acupuncture talks about the points being “living points” that might move around based on what’s going on with the person. many masters of this style past & present are blind, allowing the sense of touch through the literal feeling of the channels & points to develop in a way that you don’t see in other styles with only sighted people. although I “know” where the acupuncture points are in a text-book kind of way, practicing this way allows me to be open to the living moment. after doing this hundreds of times, I get to know some of the “choruses” so to speak, or patterns, that show up again & again, from person to person. we are like songs on songs on songs. each person is their own ongoing song, woven into collective circles of song, then splashed into time of this exact moment on the table - with its relational song of right now.

each person’s qi feels different. even though I do this same routine (kata) on every person, pretty much every time, it is always new. what’s here? what’s the quality? my fingers, needles, & other tools I use (teishin & gua sha - little metal tools) are all singing the song of the body. we are call & response-ing, sometimes I am witnessing, asking questions, other times I’m introducing a new verse. one of my favorite teacher’s calls acupuncture “story medicine,” & talks about how the acupuncture points contain every story. there’s a poetry to it. practicing acupuncture is living in the in between spaces (cou li). at the tip of a needle is a liminal place, where the song of the moment meets a universal song.

what is wildly amazing is how this conversation, this singing, this tuning - can change everything. someone’s pain will move, change, & sometimes disappear. the feelings of constriction, stuckness, sadness, too-much-ness, whatever it is - will change. the story wants to be heard. the song wants to be sung. people feel different on the other side. something has changed. although I am less surprised now that something wonderful is happening, I still feel the wonder. every time. maybe I get to be a little bit of the forest tuning. the river cleaning. the field opening. I am definitely a part of the song.

juniper is a writer, workshop designer & facilitator, retreat designer & leader, spiritual director, poet, & doctor of Chinese Medicine. She is the owner of honey drop healing, an acupuncture practice which she co-stewards with her cat, tiny dragon. juniper writes in a poetic style & doesn't capitalize letters or stick to grammar rules as a slight protest against capitalism & the patriarchy & white supremacy. she received a MDiv with an emphasis in spiritual direction & formation at Portland Seminary in 2014.