“It was just an acorn,” she reminded me. We were having a conversation about the children’s book, Chicken Little and I had forgotten that this is what sent him into a panic, believing the sky was falling. We agreed that the story was a great metaphor for the mind when it gets going in stressful situations and triggers us to react with anxiety and fear. As usual, Judi and I were talking things over before I put the needles in to let her rest. We laughed thinking how great it would be to make t-shirts that simply said “It was just an acorn.”
I treated Judi B. for 8 years. She had a standing appointment each week and seeing her was one of the greatest joys for me at Long Beach Community Acupuncture (LBCA). I learned a lot by sharing these small increments of time with her. She passed away on August 25, 2023, surrounded by people who loved her. In fact, she had invited all of us to be there and had decided when she would go. There really are no words to describe the experience. When I have spoken of it since, words like extraordinary and remarkable have come out. It was both of those things. It was also one of the most courageous acts I have ever witnessed.
Judi was courageous if she was anything. And, of course, she was much more over the 81 years she lived on the planet: daughter, sister, mother, wife, ex-wife, friend, sponsor, massage therapist, grief counselor, the list goes on. Most of all she was authentically herself. Like everyone, she had plenty of challenges along the way. After she had been diagnosed with a terminal disease, she came in one day and said to me: “what’s the point of it all, if we are not living authentically?” It is a good question/statement. By the time I met her, she was fully living this way. She told me she was the same person in all of the circles she inhabited. Near the end of her life, she verbalized how much she’d come to like herself, actually to love herself. She demonstrated to me that self-knowledge and inquiry are life-long pursuits. They require courage, compassion, and can yield a deep sense of self acceptance and love.
Judi was petite in stature but not in spirit. Her favorite chair was the one that most other people didn’t like. It fit her perfectly. The chair didn’t recline flat but enough so that she felt held, supported. She napped peacefully for years in that chair. Once the pandemic hit, she came with purple pillow and blanket along with an elephant-gray sheet in hand. She was one of the first people to come back in after that initial closure. Within the last year of her treatments, we developed the routine of folding her sheet up together once she was done resting: on opposite sides of the rectangle, we matched the other’s motions to create a neat square of material for next time. It felt like something you do with your family--something mundane, yet intimate. We had become family ourselves by then.
She was a master at belonging, both creating a sense of it and being part of it. She welcomed new people to the clinic. Encountering others in the waiting room, she radiated kindness, creating connections. She referred many people to me over the years, and it was always a sweet moment when she ran into them coming or going from appointments. I miss her but have not been sad. She took leave very consciously, which is not surprising because it’s how she lived.
As I take leave from this clinical practice, it is fitting to remember her. While Judi was a unique individual, there are so many people who have been integral to this community. LBCA has been a constant in my life for over ten years. This place has been a refuge, a salve; it has held me during painful and joyous moments of my life, just as it has done with others. It is healing to be in community, to experience highs and lows together. There are fewer things more peaceful than seeing others nap in a room. There may be nothing as satisfying as witnessing the change in a person after they’ve had an acupuncture treatment: before and after is often stark. I am proud that this clinic has administered thousands of treatments each year and introduced people to a medicine that can be limitless in its application. I will always remember how special this time was with you.