Waking The Tiger June 15, 2007
Posted by Geoffrey Wilson in : Acupuncture , trackbackThe Master’s Decree
“Do not try to fix anything.” This is what the Master taught us first. “Give everyone the freedom to explore their pain, without you getting in the road. Help them to see their situation in a new way.” This was his second instruction. “Then show them how to explore reality for themselves according to their abilities and inclinations.”
I am ready to insert the seventh needle. The master says it is better to use less rather than more. The patient is lying on a dirt floor covered by a blanket with her legs supported at the knees by cushions. She is an old woman now and stricken with pleurisy. Her head is cradled on a rolled towel. A silken pillow it is not, but she is comfortable. The people in this small village are accustomed to seeing the master’s apprentices at this time of the year. The chill
of winter has eased and spring is on the way.
The master makes sure he visits every house in the village. It is a well established custom. The locals enjoy meeting the familiar faces of his ‘helpers’ who they know are in training to ‘carry on’ the work of their teacher. The master has quite a reputation. He has visited this village far from the city for over twenty years.
Originally, he arrived there as an apprentice himself and participated in strengthening his own teacher’s vision of nourishing the people through service. They came to rely upon him for giving them direction when the hardship of life caused suffering and for spiritual succour when the challenges they faced seemed insurmountable. In short, the master was well loved by the townsfolk. Not surprisingly then, his apprentices were respected for their contribution to fulfill the master’s unspoken commitment to serve the people.
The moment is auspicious in the light of spiritual growth, as all moments are and I am grateful for the opportunity. The master is a stickler for keeping it simple. Nor is he fond of the pomp and carry-on that goes with the territory. Everybody adores his smile and they know he can see with his ears, hear with his eyes, breathe through his heels and touch the broken-hearted. They don’t know how he does these things but are content in the knowledge that he does them effortlessly. Thus, they know he is sincere, cultivated and highly refined just like his teacher.
The people in the village also know that the master is the pallbearer of a secret tradition. His responsibility is to pass on what he knows to his students so that the living teaching does not die.
The old woman lying on the floor is almost ashamed of herself. She feels as if she has let down the master and somehow disappointed him. He can see this so he smiles. It seems to be enough. Then he defers to me.
He has said on more than one occasion, to never use more than seven needles. He insists that it is a waste of both time and energy. It most certainly is a distraction for the patient. “The seventh needle often holds the balance of power,” he whispers. “Yet your destiny is beyond this!” That’s what I like about him and yet it is what infuriates some of the other students. He talks in riddles and is always unpredictable. “You must go further than your teacher!” he adds. “Mediocre doctors treat the symptoms. Skilled doctors treat the cause.” Then very softly he says, “A real doctor educates and teaches the way of life. In this there is neither coming nor going!”
Not many people know that the purpose of the needle is to connect the patient to spirit. The needle is only a tool. It cannot therefore be used to fix the problem for the patient, as if the problem is to be remedied by anyone or anything outside of the problem maker. This is difficult to really understand. Most practitioners do not know the secret of recovering wholeness. The bottom line is that without extracting the poison from a wound, the beginning of the healing process cannot take place.
Yet acupuncture is designed to correct energy imbalances including attitude problems and false perceptions. This is achieved through the assistance given and guidance orchestrated by, the practitioner. Then the patient can touch base with an energy field in spite of themselves! The skill of the practitioner is reflected by an ability to not interfere and yet set the scene for an allowance of
change.
She is lying on the floor, anticipating the ministrations to follow. This patient is a veteran. She has been treated many times before. The master is patiently watching me. I will do my best though the situation does bring with it a degree of trepidation. After we exchange pleasantries and briefly discuss the nature of her sorrow, she indicates that the time has come for action. I realise that this is the moment when the internal energy field must be adjusted. One might say it is much like a cowboy roping in a steer on the prairie, or a fisherman the net, on the ocean. The master calls it ‘waking the tiger’! “A tiger is a wild creature yet the essence of the beast is pure” he says. “Find the essence!”
“He who hesitates, is lost!” the old woman whispers as she waits for me to complete the task. I wonder about her. Is she the teacher or the patient? And what am I? The master always tells me to put the shoe on the other foot. I would call this moment tough. Not because of any difficulty per se, but because the greater the responsibility accepted by the patient, the less supervision is required by the practitioner.
Fortunately I have been trained to accept my role in the scheme of things and I know therefore that the ending of the ‘patient’ is also the point of transformation.
I think I can hear the master in the background despite the fact he is on the other side of the room. He is saying “One mistake makes for a big miss! Making mistakes, kills people. Not making mistakes is the basis for development.” I know the master is right. He has taught me well. I don’t panic. Very carefully, I make the insertion. Slowly, I connect with the needle and allow the transference to take place. The patient can feel it. The master can see it. I work with the needle until I am satisfied the flow of energy is harmonized.
The master then departs for a breath of fresh air. The patient is beginning to settle. I walk towards the open window and look out onto the vista. It is quite beautiful at this altitude. The clouds are floating high and low as if carpets riding on the waves of a blue ocean. The stillness here is as pervasive as the silence is deafening.
Then I turn to face the patient. Her eyes are closed and she is following my instructions. I have asked her to complete a contemplative exercise. “Imagine everything is on loan to you. Would this change the way you live your life?” She puts her attention on the spiritual eye and relaxes. It has begun!
I did not know then that the years would soon disappear in the blink of an eye. When the master died, I cried and mourned privately. The master’s time had come and gone. Yet I always have the sense that he is watching if only to make sure that I am fulfilling my responsibilities.
“We have a code you know and it is your duty to honour it.” I knew what he meant.
“Do not try to fix anything.” This is what the master taught us first. “Give everyone the freedom to explore their pain, without you getting in the way. Honour the process. Give the patient some respect. Help them to see their situation differently.” This was his second instruction. “Then show them how to explore reality for themselves according to their abilities and inclinations. When you are able to do this, write a book or go fishing! Before you go however, make sure you pass on what you have learned to those who are worthy.”
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