
10/01/2025
1.Telling the story of acupuncture through the lens of modern medicine.
Last Wednesday evening, Xiao Li, an office worker who often comes in for follow-ups, pushed open the clinic door with one hand still resting on the back of his neck. He told me that for the past couple of days, even turning his head to look out the car window felt like someone was tugging hard at the base of his neck. Long hours at his desk and scrolling on his phone after dinner—it wasn’t hard for me to guess what was going on.
I asked him to stand straight and slowly turn his head. His right rotation was obviously limited, and his shoulder rose up without him noticing. When I placed my hand on the suboccipital and scalene muscles, they felt like tight ropes. Tracing down along the inner edge of his shoulder blade, the tissue felt rough and sticky, and in the chest area—especially around the pectoralis minor—it was dull and resistant. Down his back, the tension ran all the way into the quadratus lumborum. When I had him extend back and raise his arms overhead, it looked as if an invisible net was holding him down.
I told him, “Your whole tension chain is pulling.”
As usual, I asked a few quick questions about his sleep, appetite, and any chest tightness. A light palpation of the abdomen showed no obvious pain, though his diaphragm movement was a little tight—still, nothing that suggested deeper organ involvement.
Treatment began with loosening the “knots”: first the suboccipitals, then the scalenes, then between the shoulder blades, layer by layer. I worked deeper on the pectoralis minor, used sliding cupping across his back to restore glide, added a few needles to settle the system, and finished with gentle heat from a lamp. Halfway through, he said, “That pulling in my neck—it’s starting to ease.” Afterward, I asked him to repeat the head turn: this time, the angle opened up, his shoulders dropped, and his breathing flowed much more easily.
To explain, I drew him a little sketch: “Think of fascial tension like a city’s traffic system. When one intersection is jammed, cars back up and the whole line gets stuck. We just cleared the bottleneck, so now the flow returns.”
Stecco calls it a tension network and densification. Chinese medicine calls it Qi stagnation and blood stasis. Different words, same body reality.
He laughed and said, “So it’s not my bones out of place—it’s just traffic blocked.” I reminded him not to sit too long these next couple of days, to gently circle his neck and expand his chest—like maintaining the roads after clearing a jam. As he left, he turned his head again and smiled: “This time I don’t even have to squint.”
These are the moments I love: when the subtle changes under my hands tell me the body has opened up. Fascial tension equals Qi flow. That’s not a slogan—it’s something I feel every single day.