Sishencong

Wearing loose clothing, I lie back on the heated table and start to get ready, pulling my pant legs above my knees, turning my waistband down, lifting my T, arms at my sides, palms down, feet turned out. Uni appears and while she inserts hair-thin needles, I close my eyes and we chat like we would if we were meeting for coffee—about our jobs, what we’ve watched on streaming, if we believe in angel numbers. Of course, we do.

Uni used to finish inserting the needles with Sishencong—the spiritual quartet—on the crown of my head. Now she starts with it and tells me lately she does that with many of her clients. These four points are supposed to calm and clear the mind. Then she continues inserting needles from top to bottom. I stopped trying to count the number after our first session.

My focus always returns to the crown of my head where the quartet is supposed to be clearing a spiritual gateway. I’m grateful for the half hour and beyond that it takes away invasive thoughts about irrevocable and unfortunate choices made, vital things I was told and failed to comprehend, who I might have let down.

Uni directs heat lamps on my feet and stomach; she hands me a buzzer to use if I need to call her. I never do. She turns out the lights, and I drift away until she returns.

Sometimes when I leave, I stop and look at the colorful framed charts on the wall depicting the meridians and acupuncture points all over the body. I marvel that over 3,000 years ago thousands of points were identified creating a switchboard that connects emotional and physical pain to different organs and body parts. How and why did they think to do that? To relieve suffering is the answer. 

Life can get heavy and dark; hope becomes inaccessible for all of us at times. For some that becomes the norm, and for them a deep ache sleeps restlessly inside of me, catching me off guard when it roars awake. I know I am fortunate to lie on Uni’s table, that access to this and other care is inequitable. I tell myself a story that this self-care will make me better able to also help relieve suffering in some small way, and then I vow it’s not a fiction.