On my way to Yoga last weekend, I popped by a shop as I was a little too early for class. I came across something I was familiar with from the 1990s: a Tetris game console. It is a pure and simple, Tetris only, black and white screen, with buttons; just like in the old days, these days pronounced “vintage game console.” I decided to get it, as I liked playing this game back in the day.

In the days when I was in University in the mid-1990s, many of us students were on the computer playing Tetris, as we were trying to avoid/procrastinate our fate of dealing with studying for exams and working on our due papers. I guess it was our way of escapism; from the stress of finishing certain tasks within a certain amount of time or possibly even the fact that we would be finished with our education and forced to face the uncertainty of our unknown futures after school. Not such an unhealthy manner of procrastination, if it was balanced out with eventually getting to work on your paper; compared to hanging out in bars and drinking alcohol till the wee hours of the morning, as well as cheaper too.

If you don’t know Tetris, this is what it is. Shapes fall from above to land downward, like rain from Heaven to Earth. The shapes, Tetrominoes, are all made up of 4 little squares, which include: a square, L-shape, reverse L-shape, a long line, Z-shape, reverse Z-shape and a T-shape. The goal of the game is to line the Earth on the bottom with the Tetrominoes, which will eventually disappear and score you points, as well as clear the screen so you could progress on to the next level. The only moves you can make are to flip the position of shape to get it to fit into the existing line or make them move down faster. At every level, the task gets harder as the speed increases; at the beginning it is like drizzling-rain speed and by the end like monsoon-rain speed.

As I describe this, I realize why I like this game. It’s like the Heavens send down rain to the Earth and I have to deal with how it gets distributed on the Earth. If I manage to organize it well, the Earth can transform the rain but if I can’t, it will overflow and flood the Tetris world into destruction. As luck would have it, there is a possibility for a restart, a rebirth; I can press the button and start a new game. In fact, the more training I get, the easier it becomes to see the possibilities to get the Tetraminoes stacked in a horizontal line on the Earth. For me, it is a game of hope, as I get many chances to mess-up, restart and in the process have practice to better my skill. I do not get the chance to choose which shape comes when, but I do get a view of the next 3 shapes that will be dropped down; so I do have a little possibility to plan my next few moves.

When I played it the 1990s, I was in a different state-of-mind; sometimes when I didn’t get a line perfectly and completely filled with no empty spaces, I would just restart the game. Now almost 30 years later, I observe that it does not bother me at all and I just continue to fill the lines above the baseline and eventually I get to work on the baseline again, to finally get it to transform. I notice that I have learned to let go of being “perfect,” to be aware of the bigger picture and to be focused in the present moment. The score is just secondary for me, if I get a high-score, great, if not, no worries. When it’s time to let it go, I just shut it off and let go of the game. It is just a game but it’s how I approach it that matters. Tetris, like so many things in life, can be a tool for transformation or it can be a hindrance to life. I have the choice to determine what it is for me.
 


 
Image by Henriksen19 on Pixabay
 

Autumn is a season I did not know as a child; in Malaysia, we have only 2 seasons – dry season and rainy season. As I got to the USA for my studies, I began to experience Autumn but again, where I went to university first, in Reno, Nevada, is a high-desert, where only few trees grow. I heard the Americans describe “Fall” for Autumn, but I didn’t really get the full experience of it until I got to Switzerland, where there are many trees that fall leaves. The moment of Autumn when the first cold hits the skin after a warm Summer, the light diminishes in the mornings and evenings, and the colors of the trees change as well as the trees become bare of leaves. I used to dislike this season, it felt like a “hard” time was coming; of feeling constantly cold, getting sick, looking outside and seeing nothing but grey, dark skies with no or little sunlight, like a premonition for death. But this has changed over the years of living here and understanding the 5 Elements. Maybe my views on death have changed too.

Many of us in Chinese Medicine become observers of Nature, at some point. This comes from our Daoist foundation of seeking harmony with our environment and the belief that we humans, are not separate but a part of Nature. I have become a fervent observer of Trees and Plants; I often find that they have so many lessons to teach me. Right now, I am gazing out of the window at our Japanese Maple tree, which has gone from dark green, to bright red and today, after the winds of last night, almost bald, leafless over a span of a month. One of our Chinese Medical scholars, Deanna Slate Stennett describes,

“I believe that all aspects of our planet, and most likely of the entire Universe, are linked in such a way that what happens in the autumnal trees simultaneously happens in other forms of life. In the trees, though, the process is easy to see: to make ready for the chill of Winter, the trees choose what is valuable and worth storing, versus what must be let go. They pull their vital essence to the safety of the roots, depriving the leaves of that essence. So those beautiful colors are actually signs that the leaves are dying. Eventually they fall and turn brown, withered corpses of the beauty they once were […] In nature, Autumn is when all forms of life store their valuables where they are safe, yet available, and let go of everything else.”
(Slate Stennett: 2018, 17-18)

We have come to a point in the year where we can no longer hold on to the external accessories or adornments that serve to decorate our exterior. If we are to survive the “death” of Winter and rebirth in Spring, the transformation of our Self, then we need to let go of excess baggage to delve deeper into our beings. Slate Stennett suggests some very powerful questions that we should ask ourselves, in deciding what to let go of, whether “physical belongings, emotional baggage, or spiritual practices.” They are:

1. What is most valuable?
2. What is precious and serves life?
3. What is unnecessary and no longer serves life?

(Slate Stennett: 2018, 18)
 
These are sometimes not simple questions to answer and to apply in our lives, as they can be relationships to people who have been with us for a while, but are no longer aiding us in life’s journey. Or maybe it could be a job that is draining us of our life essence but we can’t see a way yet to let go of it without some other way of making a living already lined up. These can bring up themes of survival and the fear of not being able to make it through.
 
Chinese Medicine attributes Autumn to the organs or `officials´ of the Lung and Large Intestines. Both have to do with purifying the body; with air (Qi) by the Lung and letting go of feces, the waste, by the Large Intestines. In this time of year, we may experience many Lung and Large Intestine themes, especially if we do not give space for these processes to occur naturally. The body is then forced to do it on its own by creating dis-ease, like fever, upper respiratory or digestive disturbance to compel us to slow down or even flat out immobile, in order that these organs can do their jobs to purify our beings of the unnecessary; these unnecessaries can be from an emotional or even spiritual point of view but still manifesting as physical symptoms.
 
Once more beautiful and precise advice from Slate Stennett to end this post:

“In our Autumns, then, let’s be deliberate in deciding what we want to let go. Honor each item – then let it go. Let it be like the brown leaves that fall to the ground and return minerals to the soil as they decompose […] In the mind and spirit, letting go leaves an empty place for something new.”
(Slate Stennett: 2018, 19-20)
 


Reference
Slate Stennett, Deanna (2018) : Poetry of the Body – Stories about Acupuncture Points. Bloomington, IN, USA: iUniverse.
 
 
 

Image by Elaine

​​One morning last week, I was sitting eating my breakfast at the dining table, looking at the flower that my son received from his graduation ceremony the evening before. It was a red Gerbera, with a long stem and fine petals. The night before, I had hastily found a container to put it in as we got home. But at that present moment of observing the flower, I realized that the container, rather low and broad, did not hold or support the Gerbera at all. What this flower being needed was a long, slim vessel. So, right after my breakfast I went to look for one and I imagined I found the right one to complement it. This got me wondering about the word "complement." 
 
The noun "complement" in English comes from French, referring to "means of completing; that which completes; what is needed to complete or fill up." As a verb it means to "make complete." If one were to begin an internet search with the word "complementary," we get suggestions like "complementary colors," "complementary angles" and "complementary medicine." 
 
Looking at the picture above, the color wheel, we see a chart for complementary colors used by artists and graphic designers to create contrasts that catch the eye, as well as the attention. In the middle are the 3 primary colors and when we want to find the complementary color for let's say red, we add blue and yellow together and we get green. These 2 colors are complementary to each other. The outer circle shows us the complementary colors in opposition to each other in different shades of the primary and secondary mixes. This color concept is really about how one color enhances the other.

​Then there are complementary angles referring to 2 angles that add up to 90°, which is a right angle. This is basic geometry we learned in math class. For example, if an angle is 30°, then the other will be 60°, adding the sum total to 90°. In this case, the 2 angles complete each other.
 
To have a complement is to be made whole and completed. I like this description to explain Complementary Medicine. This term was created in the 1980s to describe medical and therapeutic practices that did not/were not allowed to be fitted into conventional medicine. Chinese Medicine has landed in this category in the West, as it did not fit into the model created by the dominant allopathic medicine. To be very honest, I find that it is rightfully so. When I understand the word complementary as being "made whole," I am proud to say I practice this form of medicine. Then, my focus is to help a person be/feel whole and well; not cut up into pieces and detached from her/himself. For me the focus of medicine is the person, the individual and what their body-mind needs to be healthy. In feeling healthy and thriving, the individual feels empowered; thus, being able to live well and make healthy life-style choices for her/himself.
 
As I go back to the example of my son's Gerbera, I observe the being as it is and try to understand what it needs to thrive in its environment. I help it by providing the appropriate container and the nourishment, that it may feel safe, nurtured and supported enough to grow for the time that it is with me. As we know, we are not here in our present state or situation forever; life is finite, we should cherish the time we have been given and have gratitude for the experience. As such, I also know that at one point this being will have to go to its next stage of life and I, who have provided this container must learn to let go, to give this being the possibility to move on. In doing so, I am a complement to that being. 


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Image Color Wheel by vector portal-pixel77
Image Angle by bjus