Extra Points and Modern People

I was going to write an article on the use of extra points in treating traumatic conditions, like back pain, but then I realized that I also wanted to touch on something about the use of not only those points, but acupuncture in general.
Essentially, the ugly truth about acupuncture is that it can hurt sometimes. A lot. And when it comes to taking a little discomfort in the present to mitigate a lot of discomfort for a long while, most modern Americans are, quite frankly, pussies.
Acupuncture is old; in fact, it's very, very old. The Huang Di Nei Jing, the Chinese classic that first dealt with acupuncture as a subject is at least 2500 years old. That means that people in China were receiving acupuncture 500 years, at least, before Jesus was born; before Rome was transformed from a republic to an empire. More than that, there's archaeological evidence to support the idea that acupuncture is even older than the Huang Di Nei Jing.
In that time, of course, acupuncture has undergone a lot of change; from using stone probes to finer and finer needles and instruments. However, the people have changed considerably also. People back in ancient times led a much rougher, harsher existence. Physical discomfort was part of daily life. No one wanted it, anymore than they do now, but they knew that it was part of life, and they tolerated it. The life of a peasant, or farmer, in ancient China was almost unimaginably different than it is now. Times were brutal. Medicine also at that time was a bit brutal.
People today are, by contrast to our hale and hearty ancestors, much softer. They're also much more out of shape, leading to a whole host of diseases and syndromes unknown to our forebears. That's another post for another time. It's enough to note for this post, that most people are much less tolerant of discomfort than before.
Very often, when I'm confronted by someone who is in a lot of pain at a clinic, the first question he or she will ask me about acupuncture is, "Will it hurt?" Also very often, when I tell them truthfully that it does involve some sensation, they will ask to skip it. Not exactly a very robust group of patients, the modern individual.
To be fair, acupuncture marketing hasn't done a great job of helping. Acupuncture is marketed in quite a lot of media as "painless." Naturally, when patients come in, they expect there to be absolutely no pain or discomfort involved with the treatment, and when there is, they may or may not come back. I try to tell my patients truthfully that acupuncture is not sensationless, and that they will feel something. That way, they're not so shocked when they feel "de qi" at the needle site.
More than this, however, is an entire generation that has grown averse to experiencing discomfort on any level. Everything in modern living is sanitized, and made easier and easier. You no longer have to kill your own food; elevators eliminate the need for climbing steps, a journey of more than 10 blocks needs the bus. When that mind-set of avoiding discomfort becomes bedrock, it becomes very hard to move.
The body, as a living organism, needs to move. All of TCM is predicated on the idea of promoting movement, growth, inflow and outflow. "When there is free movement, there is no pain." We've become very comfortable in modern civilization, but we hardly seem to be healthier for it. A few people out there seem to get it, and they are committed to the idea of a body in motion; urban athletes who get out and move, even in inclement weather. But for a great many other people, it's just too easy to not move. Which is why the First Lady, Michelle, has to promote the "Let's Move" campaign. A campaign that is at odds with marketing which extols the virtues of hardly lifting a finger to get something done.
What is there to do? Perhaps we need to recognize that effort, even painful effort, is not inimical to enjoying life, and indeed, enhances it. In acupuncture, this would be taking a little pain from the needle to ward off much worse down the line. In life, it would be going anaerobic from time to time, taking the stairs every so often, walking, taiji, yoga; a whole host of things that people can do to ward off stasis from lack of movement. Is the cure worse than the disease, in this case? I think not. As is often said in Buddhism, pain is inevitable, suffering is not. Perhaps in embracing small pains, you can help stave off an old age of suffering.