For my age – pushing 70 – I have very little in the way of bodily aches and pains or physical ailments.
I do exercises for my knees – which keep the Baker’s Cysts at the back of them at bay – and my daily walks with Lydia help me to maintain my overall fitness levels.
The other day, though, I started getting a twinge to one side of my lower back. Nothing drastic, but noticeable.
I couldn’t have asked for more, then, when our Qigong teacher, Sue, in yesterday’s class, talked us through exercises that concentrated on the lower back area.
Qigong movements are very gentle, methodical. It isn’t always easy to see how they can be of immediate benefit – because they aren’t designed necessarily to be of immediate benefit. Effects over time can be difficult to recognise because of the very fact that they are gradual, often almost imperceptible. All I do know, is that I started going to Sue’s classes regularly – weekly – around 15 years ago and I hold them in no small part responsible for some of the health and fitness benefits I now enjoy.
This morning, the twinge in my lower back is less. I didn’t take painkillers and it didn’t just go away on its own. The combination of Qigong, preceded by yoga – which in turn was a gentle, meditative session – has, I believe, helped.
I meditated again this morning, sitting upright in a chair in the way we have been taught. Thankfully, there is no expectation of sitting cross legged on the floor. I used to try that, but it ‘killed’ my knees!
Lydia and I have had a woodland walk today. We also have new neighbours, including another dog. It’s going to be a challenge to train Lydia not to bark at it every time she hears it on the other side of the fence. We’ll get there though, just as we’re ‘getting there’ with other things. Even if we don’t know where we’re going, were doing our best to make the most of our time together, day by day, step by step.
I first encountered Qigong when I was exploring anything and everything that I could find that I thought might help to restore my mental health from a point of crisis to some semblance of stability. That was over 25 years ago, and I had a long and arduous journey ahead of me. Along the way I took part occasionally in Qigong classes and workshops. It wasn’t until some years later, however, when I was struggling to push through the challenges of a demanding job – in itself part of my recovery process – that I considered a more regular commitment to the practise of Qigong.
Google searches came up with limited references to Qigong being offered locally. Luckily, one of these few was an evening class at a school just a few miles from where I was living, in Leeds.
An online Medical Dictionary notes:
Qigong (pronounced “chee-gung,” also spelled chi kung) is translated from the Chinese to mean “energy cultivation” or “working with the life energy.” Qigong is an ancient Chinese system of postures, exercises, breathing techniques, and meditations. Its techniques are designed to improve and enhance the body’s qi. According to traditional Chinese philosophy, qi is the fundamental life energy responsible for health and vitality.
The Dictionary goes on to state:
Qigong may be used as a daily routine to increase overall health and well-being, as well as for disease prevention and longevity. It can be used to increase energy and reduce stress. In China, qigong is used in conjunction with other medical therapies for many chronic conditions, including asthma, allergies, AIDS, cancer, headaches, hypertension, depression, mental illness, strokes, heart disease, and obesity.
Qigong is presently being used in Hong Kong to relieve depression and improve the overall psychological and social well-being of elderly people with chronic physical illnesses.
While I can’t claim that I commit to a daily practice – not yet anyway – I have been attending these evening classes – and some day workshops at weekends too – with the same teacher ever since.
When the Covid lockdowns first started, Sue Dunham – the teacher – was quick off the mark with setting up Zoom classes. Just as in the live classes, Sue’s commitment to her own practice and to sharing her knowledge and vast experience has shone through into these Zoom sessions.
Sue doesn’t just demonstrate what to do for us to follow. She talks through and builds up each movement step by step, repeating as necessary; infinitely thorough and always engaging. Her approach is very meditative and mindful, working deep on different themes in each group of three classes. During the height of the pandemic, focusing on the lungs could not have been more appropriate, and we’ve also recently worked on the spine and the digestive system.
Though the movements are slow and steady, I find that I sleep really well after a class session, and wake in the morning with the sense that I’ve had a really good workout, even though it isn’t ‘exercise’ in the conventional sense.
According to Sue:
“Qigong is an extraordinary practice: it can bring you to question fundamental beliefs about mind and your life, bringing you to that in a supported, gentle way. I have found it to be accessible and yet challenging, it’s enigmatic but intriguing!”
One of my favourite Qigong movements is called ‘Healing Form’, and Qigong has certainly become an essential part of my own movement towards health and healing.
When I started to become aware of my body, as a teenager, it was on the basis of how it looked. The negative compulsive obsessions I developed were – I realise now – associated with complex psychological and emotional traumas that have taken me 50 years to unravel.
Fortunately for me, my body was and is healthy and, while I continued well into adulthood to control my life by controlling what I ate, my body served me well. Deep roots hold tight, though, and it was a long time – being ultimately faced with the choice of life or no life – before I was able to find the strength, coping mechanisms, and resolve, to push through and come out the other side.
Qigong has helped me to work at a deeper level with my body – my amazing body.
It hasn’t provided me with a miracle ‘cure’ but it has helped to shift my focus into health and wellbeing, which is where it should be.
I feel a lot ‘lighter’ these days, even though I’m 65 and probably weigh at least 4 stone more than I did when I was 15. At six-and-a-half stone and still feeling the need to lose weight, I was weighed down and locked in as a teenager.
Some of the grief, sadness and regret linger on, but less so day by day. I’m thankful for a lot of things and hope that I can continue to be so for many years to come. Qigong helps me to nurture my body, with all its intricate mechanisms for feeding and flow.
One of the wonderful things about this practice is that it takes me beyond what I ‘know’, what I can measure or evaluate, into that sense of wonder, about what I don’t know, with all the associated mysteries of those realms.
When I’m practising Qigong, under Sue’s infinitely patient and painstaking instruction, I feel as graceful as a dancer, and that – for me – is something of a miracle.
The Covid pandemic has shown us just how vulnerable any of us can be, at any age, but also how those vulnerability factors can increase as we get older. The more we can do ourselves to mitigate those factors, the more likely we are to be able to lead fulfilling, meaningful lives for longer. That’s my plan, anyway, and I’m sticking to it!
Lydia had a good run around the dog field this morning, chasing trucks and tractors that passed by on the other side of the fence.
It could be argued that I shouldn’t encourage her to use her ‘hunt’ capacity as it goes against the training that I do with her on other days, but on balance I’ve decided that the benefits of cardiovascular exercise she gets outweigh the drawbacks. She just needs to run free sometimes and do what she wants to do, within the safe confines of the dog field.
While she’s doing her thing I do mine, with exercises for my knees and repeats of the Qigong[1] ‘healing form’.
‘Back at the ranch’ I rest for a while, then locate my trusty carpet cleaner to go over the central area of the lounge. I did the whole room a while back but it just needs a freshen up in the middle which gets most of the traffic from paws and feet. I also give the stair carpet a clean and that’s my ‘domestic duties’ done for the day.
Back to binge-watching some more episodes of MAFSAU, not feeling under any pressure to do much else. Resting up and prioritising the way I have been is beginning to influence my burnt-out brain in positive ways, so I’m continuing with slow and steady.
It’ll be a takeaway pizza and a bottle of red wine for me tonight. Red wine was always a favourite of mine on a Friday night when I was working and it still is. Just because you’re retired doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate the end of the ‘working week’. On most days during the week I do something constructive one way or another, and I’m looking forward to a relaxing weekend.
I have absolutely nothing planned and don’t feel I need to have either.
The woodland walk this morning was wild and windy for Lydia and me. Winter seems to have suddenly arrived and missed out Autumn. Hopefully it will revert back again, at least for a while.
It was good to have yoga and Qigong to go to this afternoon.
I’m also keeping up with my meditation practice, on a morning before taking Lydia out for her walk. I still have dips into negative thought patterns, but am learning to recognise them for what they are.
Body work, breath work, mind work. I do feel I’m continuing to make progress with my mental health, sticking with the things that work for me and repeating them in cycles that also work for me.
The gears in my car are still not fixed so I’m taking it back to the garage again this afternoon.
I know it will get sorted, one way or another, sooner or later. I do hope it’s sooner though.
Some clarity of thought is coming through and I woke this morning with a lighter heart than I’ve had for a long time.
Even so, I revelled in being able to lie in bed until after 9am, before getting up, making tea for Trev and me, and then doing a short meditation before taking Lydia out for her walk.
Even just a five-minute meditation on a morning is making a real difference, combined with the group sessions that I take part in on a Wednesday evening and the additional occasional teachings at the centre. It’s a slow shift but a shift nonetheless. Yoga and Qigong also have strong meditative aspects to them, working at different levels.
It’s another warm September morning – we are still so blessed with the weather. I know we are blessed whatever the weather but I have enjoyed the weather this summer, moving into autumn.
While waiting in the queue at the post office I do a few exercises for my knees. They are so much better now than a few months ago and I’m not taking that for granted.
I then went on to buy a large unsliced loaf from the local bakery. Two big chunky slices with olive spread and blackcurrant jam make a delicious breakfast for me while Lydia enjoys her food from her feeding ball.
I think back to when I restricted my food intake to such an extent that I used to do an eight-hour evening shift as a waitress, full on, on my feet and rushing round all that time, before I would allow myself a slice of bread for breakfast the following morning.
Even though breakfast for me now is usually late – today around 11.30am – and I rarely have lunch, it’s not because I’m limiting myself by willpower, it’s just because I don’t want to do things any differently. I don’t want or need three meals a day plus snacks.
I’m not thin, but I’m not heavily overweight either. I have Lydia to thank for that, at least in part. Our regular walks every day give my system a much-needed boost.
As I wake this morning I reflect on a reminder from the Buddhist teachings over the last few months:
Welcome Wholeheartedly Whatever
It isn’t always easy to welcome the difficult stuff especially when it feels like there’s no end of difficult stuff to deal with.
But I find that the more I apply this principle, the more I begin to understand what it means. I’ve still got a long way to go in deepening my understanding of what it means, but I’ll keep working on it.
Today, though tired after yesterday’s intensive session at the studio, including the 50-minute drives to get there and back, I feel a sense of something having shifted in my inner landscape; not a momentous shift – marginal, but a shift nonetheless.
Sticking with a steady routine of walking Lydia daily, going to regular yoga and Qigong classes, building a short meditation practice into my morning routine, benefiting from the expert guidance and teachings from the Buddhist Centre and the weekly classes, and returning to the pottery studio for an afternoon of contemplative creativity in conducive company, are all helping to restore something in me that has needed to be restored for a very long time.
As I write, Lydia is relaxing in a corner of the room on her favourite rug. She’s had her walk and breakfast, spent a bit of time outside doing a bit of barking, and now – like me – she is ready to rest a bit.
I’ll go out later and do a bit of shopping, taking some soft plastic waste with me to go in the recycling bins that Aldi have in store. Their distribution methods do create a lot of plastic waste but at least they provide recycling facilities. Less waste would be better but we all have to start somewhere.
It’s hard to say which self-management rule applies here, although it could be rule no. 13: something to do with responsibility.
A few months ago I had high levels of anxiety which manifested in various ways.
I became highly stressed about my car, as I was having problems with the gears and I started to catastrophise about ‘worst case scenarios’, knowing the extent to which I need my car for daily walks with Lydia.
I pushed through on positives as best I could at the time, the worst-case scenario didn’t present itself and my car has been fine for a few months.
Recently, I’ve started having problems with the gears again.
In the intervening months I’ve taken a lot of time to rest and continue to practice meditation, yoga and Qigong.
I write my blog, in 28-day cycles. The process of writing is proving to be very therapeutic. I’ve written intermittently and irregularly for years but not in the same way as I do now.
My daily walks with Lydia have also been therapeutic, giving us both a good start to the day with regular exercise, fresh air and that all important connection with the natural world. In Lydia’s case a lot of her connection is through her nose; for me it is more a sense of the air around me and the ground under my feet; the slow steady movement of walking.
This time I haven’t experienced high levels of anxiety about my car problems. It’s been a minor inconvenience which Trev has helped me with by picking me up from the garage when I dropped it off this morning. It should be ready later this morning and may need a new clutch in the longer term.
Anxiety, I’m sure, arises from past experiences when we’ve needed to address a problem, and haven’t been able – for whatever reason – to find and implement a solution; where everything fell apart and we had no help in finding ways to put things back together. We’ve learnt to ‘not cope’ and to retreat instead of establishing ways of knowing what to do and how.
When I was younger, I had none of the personal resources and resilience that I have now. I wasn’t taught any coping strategies as any assertion on my part would have upset the status quo, however uneasy that status quo was (and it most certainly was uneasy, at best).
However, through experience and reflection I’ve done my best to learn and change, to take responsibility for the things that make up day-to-day life and to see and do things differently.
I still rely on a small dose of anti-depressant medication every day, but the main processes I use are the ones that are active not passive. Moving from passive to active has been the major achievement of my life. The mental effort it has taken has been enormous and sustained, which is why, at the moment, I need to rest a lot as well. Re-focusing and re-prioritising takes time and I need to continue to trust in the process, however frightening the prospect of uncertainty may seem. I’ve come a long way, just in the last few months. I’m not going back now.
I wake early, around 6am, relieved to know that there is no pressure for me to get up and out of bed for a few hours yet.
I set myself a target of 9.30 but rise before then, go downstairs and make a cup of tea. The important thing comes first though – giving Lydia a tummy and chest rub. Then I open the back door and do a few repeats of ‘Healing Form’ as Lydia welcomes the day in her own way. Sue, the Qigong teacher, reminded us of some of the details of the Healing Form movement in the class last night so I was able to reintroduce these to my practice.
It’s a quiet walk for Lydia and me this morning, with no passing cars, joggers, cyclists or dogs; just a tractor going to and fro’ across a field in the distance.
Back home and she has her breakfast from her breakfast ball as usual; she is an expert now at nudging it around with her nose so that the dried food pellets fall out; it’s a lot better for her than passively eating from a bowl.
I have a restful morning, doing nothing much more than loading and setting off the dishwasher, and putting away some clean laundry. I’m sure if I looked around the house I could – and would – find dust and cobwebs in various corners, but on the whole I’m up to date with what needs doing inside.
As it’s Tuesday I visit my friend who used to live in the village but now lives in a care home, a few miles away. Her personal carer, J is there too, and we have a lovely chat together outside in the sunshine while J does M’s nails, commenting on the wonderful weather we’ve had this summer and how we wish we could have weather like this every summer.
After J leaves, I read M a short story from a magazine I’ve brought with me. She lies on the bed and snoozes as I read. At 85, it’s good to see her relaxed and looking so much brighter than she did a few weeks ago. It’s amazing what a change of environment can do.
Arriving home, I have a supply of dental sticks that I ordered for Lydia, and proof copies of my latest books in paperback form waiting for me. I give Lydia a dental stick for a treat straight away and flick through the proofs. I’ll need to look at them in more detail before I approve them for publication, but am pleased on first sight.
Self-management rule no. 20 is a good one: enjoy the process. I have found in my life that it is enormously difficult to do this, but am working on it, and – I believe – getting better at it by the day, bit by bit, step by step.
There was a tree overlooking the back garden of the house that I used to live in, before this house.
I felt a strong connection with that tree, as its branches extended over the fence into my garden, from the wood where it lived.
Thinking about this tree leads me into thinking about another one of my rules for self-management: establish a good relationship with a stationary (or stationery) supplier.
The tree provided me with a sense of protection, somehow. I know this is really just an invention of my imagination – or at least I think it is – but I liked to think that the tree was looking out for me, as we shared the seasons from one year to the next.
There was a time when I thought I would never leave that house and garden, but I did.
The tree remained but I brought it with me in the form of a poem that I wrote while I was still there. I wrote it from the perspective of the tree.
I, The Tree
It is afternoon soon to be evening as I wait for her to return from the business of her day
I always wait for her and hope she never goes away
I am reaching, always reaching into the garden she has tended for many lonely years
I know that she knows I look out for her and would love to wipe away her tears
But the fingers of my hands are too hard bent and curled
The best I can do is to soften her sorrow with the surprise of spring and after the cold white of winter the promise of a green and bright tomorrow
Summer comes a time I love to share with her and the garden
She – stooped – digging and weeding me with arms outstretched in full and joyous glory once again her in her own way also feeding
Together we grow each through our seasons
Every year I provide a carpet for her feet she thanks me from her heart I feel and looks out for me the Tree hoping I will never go away
I know with all the branches of my being I never will
This morning, in the dog park, while Lydia was enjoying her time off-lead – sniffing and running and chasing – I stood under another tree and did some repetitions of the Qigong ‘Healing Form’ movement. I am continuing to grow, as is the tree.
I’ve had a focus on clothes management today. This is another way of saying that I’ve been washing and ironing.
Ironing isn’t my strong point. I do very little but have some summer clothes that benefit from a quick once over.
Then I decided to make pizza, for no other reason than that I found some flour in the cupboard that needs using up, and I still have a large supply of dried yeast left over from Covid days. I over-stocked on dried yeast because I hadn’t realised how little it weighed. The bag that I have – which I keep in the fridge – is probably a life-time’s supply.
Lydia was disappointed on her visit to the dog field this morning because she only got to chase one car. At one point it looked like a convoy of farm trucks was heading our way but they went off in the opposite direction. She stood staring at them, longingly.
She enjoyed a few good rolls in the grass though, and I did some repeats of the Qigong ‘Healing Form’ movement as well as my knee exercises.
I’ve set aside a big chunky lamb rib for her tea, and my treat tonight will be a few glasses of red wine, to be enjoyed outside with the pizza.
Glad About 
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