Helping patients to reframe their lives
See, I’m terrible at sticking to habits – especially those that feel like they require too much effort, even when I know they’re good for me. I was inspired by Rev Deb’s article in the previous Acu. this winter, which encourages journaling. I’ve always wanted to journal, but every time I start, I give up after a few days. Then I stumbled upon haikus, and they felt like a creative yet simple alternative.
The Japanese have such a beautiful way of viewing life, approaching acupuncture, and finding happiness. One concept that resonates deeply with me is ‘one time, one meeting’ – a reminder to treasure each moment as unique.
Writing haikus has been my way of experiencing this philosophy first hand.
5–7–5. That’s it.
I’ve been creating haikus in quiet moments – sometimes when training for an ultramarathon, but mostly during the quiet yin moments during treatments when patients are in their own zen state. It’s helped me live more in the moment and find beauty in the world around me.
A revelation in clinic
Recently, I had a lightbulb moment during a patient visit. It felt like seeing life through a new lens – like shifting a mountain and revealing a path to success. In that moment I noticed the rain outside refracting light into beautiful, vibrant colours. This moment of clarity inspired a haiku:
Raindrops on the glass,
Light refracts new visions,
Clarity takes form.
The more I practise acupuncture, the more I see our role as one of reframing. It’s like restoring a beautiful painting: the artwork – the patient’s essence – is already there, but the frame around it needs repair. Our job is to nurture the beauty within while addressing what’s deteriorating on the outside. I try to love every patient, see their spirit, and guide them on their journey in restoring their metaphoric frame.
I think that’s in part why I’ve always loved the classical character for water shui 水 – where it represents the stream flowing, but just as important are the outskirts of the water too. It’s not a defined or narrowed concept, but one that includes all the vegetation and wildlife that sits next to the water.
We work with this same idea – where the water is a small part but we have to widen our lens to understand what’s happening around the area too. We want to bring clarity not just to the water itself but to the environment around it.
Many patients come to us with a single complaint, unable to see how it connects to their larger health story. For example, this month I treated a woman seeking help ‘just for fertility’. Her vision of herself was that something must be fundamentally wrong – something preventing her from conceiving. Yet, from a gynaecological perspective, everything about her seemed ideal: regular cycles, perfect timings, tracking her cycle, no pain. Everything looked as good as I could have hoped for.
During our nearly two-hour session, I noticed a pattern. We meandered down the stream of her life, understanding the rich tapestry that has brought her to this point of being sat before me. Whilst she signposted many, many things along the journey, nothing to her seemed ’significant’ – but there were many stops on the road. I was halfway through thinking, Oh gosh, where will I even begin? when something started occurring to me: this is actually quite simple…
After over an hour of listening, I summarised her story in just two key points:
- She is tired.
- Her body is constantly fighting.
The first point – tiredness – was straightforward. She works in a demanding tech job, hasn’t slept through the night since she was a teenager, and her mind is always overthinking. She’s not completely burned out, but she’s been running on a slow, steady depletion for years.
The second point revealed a deeper layer. Her body is always in a low-grade fight mode. Chronic hip pain, lingering dental issues from a netball injury, mild IBS –nothing severe enough to see a doctor about until recently but enough to keep her body in a constant state of low-level inflammation. All her body seemed to be craving was to go back into a parasympathetic nervous system state.
She was stunned when I presented her story in this simple, connected way. She leaned back and said: ‘Wow, I’ve never seen myself like that or thought everything was related’.
By simplifying her health narrative, I helped her see herself differently. It gave her a new perspective, a way to step back and reflect, to realise that something needed to change.
Teaching one: finding the essence
This experience has taught me many things. Firstly, it reinforced how powerful it can be to distil a patient’s story down to its essence. I’m not sure I can simplify it into yin and yang, but I am getting there.
With every patient now I think, How can I explain what they’ve presented in one sentence? And I make sure to think about their health from every angle of our Chinese medicine perspective:
- ways of understanding the body: yin and yang, the three treasures, the four directions, the wuxing, the various channel systems like the jingjin, six divisions, and so much more
- ways of treating the body: channel theory, needling techniques, needle retention times, point categories, the use of moxa, and so much more
I now use this idea to take a step back, go through a mental checklist of all the ways that we could see and treat the body – all to ensure clarity and simplicity in my approach.
As practitioners, we have a unique high-level view of our patients’ health – one that often includes deeply personal aspects of their lives. This perspective allows us to identify the one most important thing that will help them return to their true path, their dao.
I’ve often found that by reflecting a patient’s story back to them, something within them is reignited – a flame that was slowly burning out. We offer them the chance to step back, gain new insight, and envision a healthier reality for themselves.
Teaching two: using a broader vision
The experience of this patient also made me reflect on how acupuncture’s power lies in addressing the small, quiet struggles in a patient’s face. Chapter 2 of the Su Wen reminds us that if we start digging a well when we’re already thirsty, it’s too late. Acupuncture is about listening to our bodies and seeking care before things escalate. This realisation has deeply influenced how I speak with patients, encouraging them to tune into their bodies and understand that everything is connected.
One of acupuncture’s key strengths is its holistic view of the body, where signs and symptoms that may not make sense from a western medical perspective fit seamlessly into Chinese medicine.
So often, patients forget to mention significant issues – either because they’ve overlooked them or don’t see them as relevant. Our various frameworks for understanding health mean that seemingly unrelated symptoms often share a common root. By illuminating this for our patients, we help relight the candle that was beginning to dim, providing them with a clearer direction toward wellbeing.
Teaching three: treatment for life
More than anything, this reflection has reinforced my belief that acupuncture should be an integral part of everyone’s life journey. It’s about shifting patients’ perspectives – helping them see that pain is their body’s way of asking for help and that they have the power to listen and respond.
Acupuncture allows us to partner with patients, guiding them to reconnect with their centre and restore balance. This becomes especially important as they navigate the trials of daily life. It’s always incredibly rewarding to support patients through major transitions – whether it’s conception, pregnancy, or postnatal recovery. We become a constant – almost like a best friend – available whenever they need us.
On a broader level, this reflection also made me consider where acupuncture stands as a profession. Yes, it’s invaluable in supporting patients through major life events – cancer treatments, IVF, and other significant challenges. But we should also emphasise acupuncture as an ongoing lifelong support system – not just a crisis intervention but a steady companion throughout life’s journey
This idea ties in beautifully with this year’s BAcC conference theme on cycles –highlighting the importance of supporting patients through every stage of life. It also brings to mind Nils von Below’s keynote speech a few years ago and his compelling argument that acupuncture should be considered everyday medicine, with western medicine serving as emergency medicine.
The value of acupuncture
Acupuncture and clinic spaces provide something rare and vital: a safe place where patients can let their spirits speak. These spaces allow patients to discover the vision they want for themselves, to reconnect, and to feel like they have a home to return to – both physically and within themselves.
This idea of centrality is so important. It’s where acupuncture truly excels. In the western world, there’s a tendency to separate everything into specialties – disparate systems where multiple experts address different pieces of a puzzle but don’t work together to solve it.
Acupuncture, on the other hand, creates a unifying space where patients can always come back to their centre. It offers support through any journey, providing a place to pause, step back, and realign. It’s where they can rediscover their vision and move forward with greater ease.
Josh is an acupuncturist working across two clinics in Surrey. He has a passion for helping patients navigate their way through life. He’s part of the management team at the International College of Oriental Medicine (ICOM) and runs the Surrey Regional Group with the British Acupuncture Council.
