Whispering of Willows 48

By Dr. Anna Zhao

Autumn is departing, and most of the flowers and grass have withered. Most of the birds have also left for warmer climates. One day at work, a little bird was staring at me intently from the other side of the glass window. I tapped on the window from inside, but it not only refused to leave, but also responded to me by pecking the window from outside with its tiny beak. Dr. Daniel, who is always so busy, couldn't help but run over to check on the bird several times. The little bird accompanied us for a whole afternoon before finally flying away, slowly and reluctantly. What a magical bird!

Time flies and we are already near the end of November; the cold days have long arrived. Dr. Ali said that if the leaves on the fruit trees do not fall off naturally, we ought to pluck them, otherwise the harvest next year would be affected. Although the apple trees had become bare, two apples were stubbornly squatting on the autumnal branches. Dr. Ali picked them, and taking a bite, I realized they were not a bit dry, but still quite sweet and tasty. They had not gone bad at all.

Nature is such a miraculous world, and it is why I encourage my patients to get out of their own small circle and approach the vast universe. When I do Qigong for my patients, I often intentionally take them to a quiet place away from life’s hustle and bustle.

Patient B has been with me for a while. With her consent, here I share the Qigong/visualization session I did with her.

B's main complaints were fatigue, depression, joint pain, insomnia and migraine. Migraine is the most dreadful thing for her. This is what she described to me when she had the worst migraine in her life:

"I have never had a good relationship with my mother. That night, after we finished talking, I put down the phone and felt cold all over, my head was swollen, my ears were buzzing, and the blood vessels in my right side of my brain were throbbing violently. I knew that my migraine problem had come back. I lay down on the bed with my clothes on, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. I was shivering with cold; I curled up, my tightly clenched teeth clattering. Finally, fatigue soothed me with some fitful sleep, but in no time, I woke up again in the middle of the night.

I swallowed two aspirin tablets, and then sat quietly in the dark, waiting for the tablets to take effect. But this time, before the tablets were digested in my stomach, I felt that all the blood in my body had rushed to my brain. I had a splitting headache and nausea. I felt so uncomfortable that I rushed to the toilet, knelt down and vomited. Usually, this would make me feel better. However, this time the migraine was more severe than any other time. I vomited several times in a row. Not only did the headache remain, but all the joints in my body began to ache. I groped my way back to the bed and lay down heavily, staring at the rotating ceiling with my eyes wide open, not even daring to turn over. As soon as I made a tiny movement, the terrible nausea returned. I covered myself with many quilts, but I couldn't keep my body warm... Ah, Dr. Anna, this was the darkest and longest night I have ever experienced. I felt like I was dying... This is what brought me to you. You must help me, otherwise, I am at a loss... "  She looked at me, desperation and tears reflecting in her eyes.

I asked her to take a look at the garden outside the clinic. She squinted at me, puzzled.

I said, "Look, a big Buddha statue is sitting in the garden, his hands in a mudra below his belly button, right? One day, Dr. Ali collected a bundle of dried flower buds and put them in the Buddha's palms. A few days later, he discovered not withered flowers, but flowers starting to bloom. Ah, Buddha’s hands were holding a bouquet of colorful flowers full of vitality, attracting quite a bit of attention."

"What made the almost wilted flowers came back to life?" B asked thoughtfully.

"I also had asked Dr. Ali the same question, and he told me the mix of sun and rain did the trick," I laughed, "Look, there are still some water drops in the palm of the Buddha. Those water drops were nectar to the withered flowers. Dear B, think about it: many things in the world, even if things seem hopeless, might they be able to blossom again after being touched by the divine world?”

She closed her eyes, and I took her into a deeper state of meditation.

I lowered my voice again: "My master told me that everything in nature has healing energy, and the vibration waves they send to us can affect both our body and our mind. For a person with lung disease, it is best for him/her to exchange energy with an old cypress tree.  For those with liver disease, he/she should try to embrace an old pine tree… If you are someone with severe pain or are physically weak, you can imagine that each of your cells is a small flower. Every time you inhale, it is like a gentle breeze brushing by those flowers, it is like sweet nectar pouring down to those flowers. Originally, they might have little vitality, but gradually their petals become smoother and smoother, brighter and brighter. Their petals are expanding, every petal becomes larger and brighter, their colors become more and more vivid, each petal getting coated with crystalized dew. The flowers, abundant with gratitude and vitality, sing and dance in their tranquil and refreshing fragrance…”

That day, when B was leaving the clinic, she said she was feeling much lighter and in less pain. In the following weeks, she hardly had a migraine. As soon as some slight symptoms manifested, she said, "I just do what you told me – if it’s nice weather, I go hug an old tree, or I step on the soil, barefoot. If the weather is not good, I do qigong at home or soak my feet with hot herbal water. Now I feel that I am gradually regaining some vitality…”

B will soon be going to another country for quite some time. She is worried about relapse in an unfamiliar environment, so I gave her a poem I wrote as a parting gift:

Patience

I repeat it again:

dear friend
don’t despair
no matter what.

Even if you are a late-autumn date-tree,
deprived of your wealth,
your last leaf
wrested by merciless gusts,
your pure naive face,
disfigured by life’s knife.

Even if you have lost everything
you still have

much love, much hope.
They are not idle in the hidden world,
but have married, given birth to star-like sprouts.

Do nothing but give them time, 

patience, so their offspring

may solemnly step into the visible world

in tender green form.