Heaven Rewards Diligence

I resolved recently to experiment with various kinds of massage, in myriad styles and flavors, representing the four corners of the world. Massage is massive in Australia these days, and every small town in the Outback has at least one or two Thai parlors, to complement their one or two Thai restaurants. Now some of those massage parlors might be derisively called "rub and tug" ventures, but most of them legal and legit, and at the very least they are servicing a need. As well as exotic services such as cupping, hot stone treatment, myofascial release, lymphatic drainage, and foot reflexology based on Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), you can also find evidence-based sports physiotherapy, covered by Medicare. Even if you have to pay full fare, there appears to be no shortage of punters lining up for a spell on the mattress, beneath the masseuse's healing hands.

Ubiqitious Thai massage clinic, in Wyong (Australia, 2024)

Whether it is a side effect of my meds or an early symptom of Huntington's Disease, or simply run-of-the-mill anxiety, I often clench my jaws and grind my teeth when asleep, and wake up with a stiff neck. One of my Chinese students, Nico, suggested that I try acupuncture as a potential remedy. It has a 2000-year history in the Middle Kingdom, where it is credited for curing practically every malady or disorder under the sun. More specifically, benefits include pain relief, improved circulation, stress release, boosted immunity, and restoration of the body's original Qi (energy system). In TCM, it is believed that Qi must flow freely to maintain optimum health.

According to the Lee Massage website: "Acupuncture is an ancient Chinese medicine practice that involves inserting fine, sterile needles into specific acupoints on the body to balance the flow of energy (Qi). This treatment is used to alleviate pain, treat musculoskeletal disorders, reduce inflammation, and improve overall well-being."

In late February I telephoned my local Lee Massage clinic at Tuggerah Westfield, and arranged an appointment for their acupuncture treatment. Nico warned that it usually takes a number of sessions for results to appear. 

On the way to my first session at the ungodly hour at 8.30am, I passed by a rival Chinese clinic at the mall. There was a poster in the window celebrating Lunar New Year.

Not my acupuncture clinic, but in the same basic ballpark (Australia, 2026)

I strolled on upstairs, where I located Lee Massage's facility on the second floor. The manager accompanied me to a booth inside which they were playing Chinese classical music, whimsical and evocative. The scrolls on the walls reminded me of my life in Japan.

Motivational scrolls on the walls of my booth, at Lee Massage (Australia, 2026)

I later asked Chat GPT to translate that piece of calligraphy and this is what it said:

"天道酬勤
Tiān dào chóu qín
Heaven rewards diligence..."

Hard work is rewarded, in other words... and boy was it hard work, lying on that bench getting poked and prodded with minute needles by my male masseuse. Although the session was only supposed to be an hour, it seemed to drag on much longer. From time to time, the masseuse would twist or move the needles, and I would detect tiny, very peculiar electric shocks emanating from that particular acupoint. "Tight," he said, squeezing my neck and shoulders. Yes, tight and sore, indeed... that's why I was there. I sought solace in the whimsical background music, and the motivational scrolls on the walls.

Heaven rewards diligence, and some lines from the I Ching (Australia, 2026)

The acupuncturist and his manager convinced me to return the following week, confirming Nico's suspicion that one session would not be enough. So I went again, and the second round of therapy was just as gruelling as the first. It was like there was increased electric zapping all through my body, even in places they hadn't even needled. Was that the mysterious Qi energy in action, I contemplated. Dining in the foodcourt later I had a dramatic jolt in my heart, which alarmed me. Jolts were also assaulting my jaws and cheeks.

After my third session, there was a tingling in my toes which shot all the way to my neck. In the school of reflexology, toes are connected to the trigeminal nerve, the largest cranial nerve, responsible for transmitting sensory information (touch, pain, temperature) from the face and mouth to the brain and controlling the chewing muscles. It has three main branches, the ophthalmic, maxillary, and mandibular nerves, that provide sensation to the forehead, cheeks, and jaw, respectively. 

Recalling my Vagabondic post on "rebellious Qi" being blamed for causing panic attacks, I wondered if my visits to Lee Massage were redirecting energy towards my feet from the upper regions of my body, where it has run amok for so long. On that matter, the Burong (ST-19) acupuncture point can assist energy to descend, and I think I have had a needle inserted there. Jianjing (GB 21) might also be useful in regulating Qi and reducing neck pain. I found myself urinating a lot at this stage, which is supposedly is a common side effect and cleanses the body of toxins.

Acupuncture can also be helpful for confronting Huntington's Disease. According to TCM, this disorder is an example of "endogenus wind".

After my fourth session, I had tingling in my fingers (Zhongchong (P9) point) and knees, although I didn't receive any acupuncture in these joints. I noticed some more tingling in my cheeks.

A few days later, I experienced what felt like an endorphin rush, a natural high. Is it possible that robust massage can get you high? If so, then I can't believe I waited so long before discovering it!

On April 18, following my sixth session, I remember wondering about what had happened to my familiar neck and back pain. Was it fading? I was also feeling slightly more energetic. Was this just a placebo, or a direct result of acupuncture?

Two days later, on the morning of my seventh session, I realized that I was getting (somewhat) accustomed to the early rising. The massage and needling wasn't as painful as it used to be, too. I was making progress, at last! As always, the masseuse and the assertive manager at Lee Massage urged me to return next week. I obliged them, but reluctantly. After all, I only originally wanted to try acupuncture once, to cross it off the bucket list you might say. I never imagined making it a permanent routine, costing me $120 per week.

So, I persevered for another month. Then reality finally hit: Bitcoin was faltering, leaving me running short of cash. Just as in 2022, the rebound of April had proven to be a dead cat bounce. On top of that, I was tired of getting up early every Monday morning for the massage. Endorphin rushes might be nice, but there are cheaper ways of obtaining them (such as teaching 8 lessons in a row on iTalki!) If acupuncture was truly working, then why did I need to go back again and again for more? I had given it long enough, I reasoned. It was time to end this experiment.

Another acupuncture place, Central Coast TCM, in Wyong (Australia, 2026)

Shortly thereafter, I embarked on a new experiment, thereby crossing another box off of my bucket list: I subscribed to a premium account on X.

Rebellious Qi

I have read that in Traditional Chinese Medicine, panic attacks are blamed upon rebellious Qi, an uprising of that fundamental lifeforce also called "Chi" (or 氣) . This theory resonates with me as several occasions before my first attack, I suffered freak spells of dizziness and unsteadiness on my feet. One evening I was walking towards the Monolith in Shinjuku (新宿) when a sudden whoosh! of energy surged from my legs to my crown. A week or so later I had my first (official) attack, at the aforementioned tower. Whenever I moved my arm or turned my head, a powerful force would shudder through my body, with a reverberating din similar to the bionic sound effects in The Six Million Dollar Man. Time had slowed down, it felt, and every event was full of dread significance. As the attack progressed, I was startled to notice luminous sparks spraying up from the bottom of my visual field, like manic laser beams fired in an old arcade game... (For more on Qi rebellions and the herbs that can remedy them, click here.)

 

Ded Moroz, and the Defecating Log: Christmas Around the World

SEASON'S GREETINGS!

One of the fascinating things about travelling and visiting new countries is learning about the colourful and unique festivals that exist out there. Now while I don't travel as much as I used to, I am able to explore the world vicariously, through my job on iTalki, and my online wanderings. It has become clear to me that Christmas is a global event, celebrated on every continent. The way it is celebrated differs starkly, however, depending on the locality. Not every country has a Santa Claus, and Santa doesn't always ride in a sleigh. In Spain the Three Wise Men deliver presents to children, which kind of makes sense, since they gifted gold, frankincense and myrrh to baby Jesus in the Bible. In Holland they have a Santa but he lives in Spain and sails to and from the Dutch homeland by boat. Go figure. Russian children send letters to Ded Moroz, a bearded old man who resides in Vologda near the North Pole, and whose name means "Father Frost". He walks with a long magic staff and sometimes rides a troika.

The Christmas Shitter (El Caganer), and El Tio (Australia, 2019)

I believe there is a relationship between Christmas and New Year's Day in that they offer a glimmer of hope in the midst of winter. They both arrive just after the winter solstice, the most desperate time of all, but they promise that the light/sun/Son will return. It might be faint and distant, but the light is there and can be seen, twinkling through the hoary boles. The rebirth has begun... (To read my full account of how Christmas is celebrated around the world, click here.)

Chilled Seafood (on an Unseasonably Chilly Christmas Day)

It was a wet and windy Christmas 2012, the rain often driving, and the general gloom more reminiscent of last year's La Niña than the wannabe El Niño we are experiencing now. Of course, Christmas in Australia is not meant to be cold, and in anticipation of a summer scorcher my Mum had scheduled a spread of seafood for lunch, to serve as an alternative to roast turkey and ham. The plan was to sit out in the shade by the lake, drinking cold beers and pigging out on oysters, cold prawns, Balmain bugs (a relative of the lobster), and barramundi. My Mum probably assumed all this chilled fare would chill us out, both physically and figuratively. What she didn't realize, however, was that some of these foods (such as the lobster) are actually considered warming foods in Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), and heat up the body even more than the oldschool Christmas turkey and baked potatoes and ham! 

Cold prawns, oysters, lemon, and wakame (Australia, 2012)

In other words, you won't necessarily get a cooling effect from eating prawns and oysters on a hot day, no matter how long they've been kept in a fridge (according to TCM, at least!) That said, my Mum had got something right by dishing up a bowl of Japanese wakame seaweed salad, to complement the seafood. A type of seaweed, wakame is classed as a cold yin food, and is thus perfect for summer. Like many Japanese foods, wakame has some awesome health benefits, and is packed with valuable nutrients, making it a superfood. Even more astoundingly, wakame is purported to cleanse the body from toxins including radiation poisoning! Just before I left Tokyo last year, in the alarming aftermath of the nuclear meltdowns at Fukushima, there was a huge rush on seaweed products, everyone was stocking up on them in the belief that it would protect their thyroid glands from contamination. The ancient east Asians knew of seaweed's detoxifying powers, and made use of it in their medicine. As it turned out, Christmas Day was rainy and cold, so we didn't need any extra yin in our lunch this year. In fact, we could have done with a bit more yang! (For more on the yin/yang properties of food in TCM and how they can improve your health, click here.)

Cloudsurfing China, and Sailing Over Seoul

One crisp winter afternoon in January last year I was cruising the skies of north-east Asia as is sometimes my wont, on my way home from an outbreak of hot tropical love in Vietnam. I was nursing one monster hangover accrued from my antics at the Window's Cafe and Bar in Ho Chi Minh City nearly 24 hours earlier, a condition sorely compounded by those couple of extra beers I downed at Tân Sơn Nhất Airport waiting for my ride. I thought that if I just kept on drinking, I could drink the hangover away. Or at least keep it at bay, until I lost myself in sleep. But I hadn't factored in the infuriatingly stop-start nature of travelling in (or through) China, which makes sleep, or indeed any form of relaxation, exceedingly precarious. To give you an example, my bird (Air China) was leaving Ho Chi Minh at a ridiculous time -- 1.45am or something, but I suppose that's what you pay for when you always opt for the cheapest airliner! It was literally the last flight out, and I was the last guy drinking at the bar, downing Tigers with ice, as our Beijingbound Air China glided in. I watched it all behind the dirty panes in the brandnew airport concourse. Presently I shuffled on-board with all the blearyeyed zombies, quite a few Germans all speaking German, and took my superdownsized seat. I was in the mood for sleep. And who knows, I might have found it, if it were not the fact that this was a Chinese flight. An hour or so into the flight, just as I had probably begun to doze off, the plane shifted into descent mode, and the stewardesses came around, waking everyone up. I wasn't surprised, since I had encountered this anomaly a few weeks earlier, on my way to Vietnam. It is not listed on your ticket or travel itinerary, but when you fly from Beijing to Ho Chi Minh City you stop en-route at Nanning, capital of the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region (广西壮族自治区). There to shuffle off the plane, get confused, and wait in line for needless visa checks and passport inspections. We spent more than an hour waiting for our transit visas, and this was at 4am or something, at the end of a long session of heavy drinking (for me at least). For some strange Chinese reason only one guy (or girl) was processing passports in passport control, even though there were five or six guys/girls sitting at their desks, resplendent in their official attire. This meagerness was not lost on the Germans in the line. "Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf," they said, counting them one by one, "fünf nicht arbeiten!" All of the just sitting there, in other words, doing nothing. What waste, the Germans were doubtless thinking... what Communist inefficiency! By this stage, 12 hours after I started drinking, I was feeling decidedly green, and in desperate need for some sleep. My passport was stamped, eventually. We were herded back aboard our plane as sunrise revealed a rather pleasant series of yellow apartment blocks near the airport, kids going off to school, and adults to work. Yellow was actually the color of the day, yellow and pale blue, yellow and sulphurous brown. Skysurfing southern China was a smudge of sulphuric smog, the ground barely visible, that vast agricultural heartland conspicuous in its absence. I took occasional peeks out of the window, between drifts into light sleep. Peaks of cloud drifted by. Everyone on the opposite side of the cabin gawked out the window as we approached Beijing, seeing something I couldn't see... maybe it was the Great Wall (but isn't that to the north?) At Beijing airport we spent more time waiting in futile lines. On the bright side, I didn't get as badly lost as I did on my first visit, that foggy carbon-heavy night just before Christmas, at the very start of my adventure. I boarded my plane to Tokyo, Japan, and we took off in pale sunshine -- the temperature was about 0 degrees C. We hit the clouds again, heading east. I think I did actually get some sleep, like an hour or so. But I was continually being distracted by the interesting scenes which opened up below, like a panorama: Dalian (大连) on its peninsula looking like a neat place to live, and finally, a little later, a dramatic metropolis emerging from the mountains, spread out like a circuit-board, or a subway map: Seoul (서울), capital of the Republic of Korea, and Jewel of the Yellow Sea.

One of the many yellow hills of Seoul (South Korea, 2003) 

If I recall correctly, there was a commercial airliner flying by at much the same altitude, but in the opposite direction to us. I looked down to see, much lower, a smaller craft possibly coming into land in the city. Something about the sight of these two planes flying at different altitudes, the sense of three dimensional perspective they engendered, had a magical effect on me. It was like discovering a whole world and an entire way of life miniaturized into one of those bauble things they used to sell which snow inside whenever you shake them. There was a civilization there compressed between the mountains, and as I looked ever more intently, I could make out landmarks I had encountered on my previous forays here, back in 2002 and 2003. The city was laid out like a circuit-board, like a subway map bereft of the subway stations (since they were underground), but nonetheless prominently hewn by the Han River, and peppered with yellow peaks. We were flying like 30,000 feet, but if I could have strapped on a parachute and bolted out the emergency door and tumbled down there, I would have done so in a heartbeat. Or probably not, that would have been foolish, and you need superhero strength to open those doors at cruising altitude. Anyway, you get my drift... it was sad to pass by without a night in a hof, drinking beer and chowing on the complementary peanuts. I had to fly on, back to dreary old Tokyo, where the wicked North Wind was waiting to knife me. But next month, if all goes to plan, I will be back in Seoul, this time on the ground. And if all goes to plan, plenty of fresh adventures await! Even a few fresh hofs, and all the peanuts I can eat. Thanks to the relative strength of the Japanese Yen, I think I will be able to down drinks for a third of the price that they cost in Tokyo. And that's always a bonus.