You know your own body. Right?
Yeah, of course. Vital organs, flesh, blood, nerves, skeleton… oh, and connective tissues. Most people forget about those. But what exactly are these connective tissues? Tendons, ligaments, cartilage – most of us are aware of these. They consist of elastin, collagen, and chains of polypeptides that keep our sinews fibrous and sinuous. And then there is the complex network of fascia that binds, stabilises and separates our viscera. It encloses and penetrates our muscles, wraps around our organs, and underpins our skin. It prevents us, along with our bones, vessels and skin, from functioning only as amorphous blobs and oozes. But you already knew that… right?
Fascia has largely escaped the notice of the medical world for centuries. It was the annoying stringy membrane that you had to cut through to get to the meat of the operation, so to speak. Modern keyhole surgery, however, makes extensive use of fascia, sliding surgical implements and cameras through the convenient spaces between fascial planes. The human mind tends naturally to focus on “stuff”, on “things”, and to ignore the vital spaces in between, but in recent years the importance of fascia has become increasingly recognised and acknowledged. No longer is it just the good-fer-nuthin’ chewy piece of gristle in your sirloin steak. It keeps us mobile and elastic, contributes significantly to the structural scaffolding of our bodies, and provides us with functional lines of kinetic power and movement.
Increasingly, the fascial network is being offered as an explanation for the efficacy of acupuncture. Whilst I’m not convinced the correlation is so direct and simple as some suggest, there are certainly some convincing parallels with the Sinew Channels and Twelve Primary Meridians. There is, for example, one continuous sheet of fascia that runs from the brow-line, over the scalp and down the back, all the way to the plantar fascia beneath the foot. In traditional Chinese medical theory, the Bladder channel follows the exact same path. Aha! Acupuncturists now have a neat and handy, scientific-sounding explanation for when the sceptical patient asks why a needle in the foot might help alleviate their lumbar pain or stiff neck… without having to resort to nebulous expositions about the mysterious workings of Qi that leave most Westerners flummoxed at best, or derisive at worst.
There is even a suggestion that Qi itself is in fact an electrical flow facilitated by the piezoelectric quality of fascia, and by the conductive properties of the fluids that run along and between it. By manipulating the myofascial web with needles, we can adjust and manipulate the flow. We can release or engage the fascia, and change the manner in which it feeds back to the nervous system. In many cases, chronic pain is not caused by damaged muscle or scarring, but by taut, overstretched, or bound-up fascia. Often, that pain is not felt at the dysfunctional area, but is rather referred along muscle and fascia to knotted Ashi points and trigger points. The fascia is not just inert material; it is a sensitive network running through the entire body and feeding back to the Central Nervous System. Is Qi electricity? Electricity is a kind of Qi, perhaps – but again, I don’t think they are one and the same. I don’t think it’s the whole story.
One of the effective mechanisms common to acupuncture, meditation, yoga, and Qi Gong is that through breathing and an emphasis on an alert but quiet mind-state, the parasympathetic response of the autonomic nervous system can be activated, and this is crucial to dealing with all kinds of pain conditions – not just musculoskeletal ones, but things like Irritable Bowel Syndrome, too. The role of the mind cannot be underestimated here. For tissue to release, the mind and nervous system have first to say, “It’s okay”. Our minds are not separate from our bodies; they are integrated and inseparable systems. Indeed, there has been much written on how negative emotions that are not “worked through” and released can instead become stuck inside the physical tissues.
Certainly, this perspective is one shared with classical Chinese medicine. I have myself witnessed people being needled at particular points, and suddenly becoming overwhelmed with emotion. I’ve seen vasovagal responses, too, in the form of “needle shock”, that have also been closely tied to past trauma, both physical and emotional. Indeed, we easily accept that physical trauma is likely accompanied by emotional trauma; less accepted is the notion that emotional trauma necessarily manifests in the physical body.
Interestingly, one of the Nei Dan, or Daoist internal alchemical, techniques I have learned is an alternating squeezing and releasing of the whole body. This is to encourage full relaxation of the flesh, especially those parts that we unconsciously keep in a state of tension. By squeezing and releasing we can become aware of the degrees of tension we hold within us, and gradually let them go. I believe that this letting-go is not purely physical, but emotional, too. We let go of thoughts, emotions, and physical tension and tightness, and therefore allow the body and mind to enter a state of rest and healing that it cannot attain even in sleep (when the mind is still busy with dreams).
Various Buddhist visualisation techniques also work with imagining the body as space. We know from modern subatomic physics that this is literally true: our bodies are comprised overwhelmingly of empty space, contrary to our sensory experience of ourselves as primarily solid entities. On a more palpable level, the ancient Chinese practice of using suction cups also creates physical space in our bodies, allowing stagnation to move, toxins to drain, and fresh nutrients to replenish. Massage, foam rolling and acupressure work by compressing space in the body. How much time do we spend actually opening it up and increasing internal space?
In Zhan Zhuang standing practices, often associated with martial arts, such as the San Ti Shi posture of Xingyiquan, or with Qi Gong, such as the Wu Ji posture, we work on a process of internal release, through the muscles and connective tissues, but in particular through the spine. As the crown of the head is gently lifted, we relax and allow gravity to pull the pelvis away from the skull, gently stretching the spine and opening up space between the vertebrae. What lies between our vertebrae? Our cushioning intervertebral discs: connective tissue. Through the process of release during standing practice, the overly-curved and compressed lumbar region especially is partially straightened and lengthened as the sacrum drops and the pelvis tilts posteriorly.
This is a perfect antidote to the postural imbalances induced by a lifetime of sitting in chairs, such as Lower Crossed Syndrome, where the glutes and abdominal wall weaken as the thighs and lower back tighten. The whole releasing process, known as Song (approximately pronounced sung) in Qi Gong, Taijiquan, and other Chinese internal martial arts, involves the gradual unbinding of habitually tight fibres in the muscles, and around the bones, so that space can be found in the body and Qi can flow unhindered. Spaciousness and tension within the body are directly paralleled by spaciousness and tension within the mind. Each feeds into the other.
Many Chinese health practices work directly with fascia. Tui Na massage, Gua Sha, and suction cupping therapies certainly do, as do Qi Gong and the internal martial arts. A high level Taijiquan practitioner has a remarkable ability to direct power through the body via lines of connective tissue that are developed through consistent, mindful practice. In Baguazhang, too, there is much emphasis on chain-like, flowing, full-body movement, maintaining a relaxed stretch or torsion of internal fibres. We don’t just move the hand; the whole body moves the hand. We feel how the torso, legs and feet can all become involved in the movement. Nothing is isolated; the whole body is involved in every action. We are an interconnected web, strung together by the cobweb-like filaments of fascia. Where Western medicine dissects, Chinese medicine and martial arts seek to connect, and to work with the whole.
Aside from complex martial and internal practices, simple, natural stretching is crucial to fascial health. Without movement, the fascial membranes that are designed to glide over each other and provide us with an easy, open, and extensive range of movement, instead knit together as strands of sticky, yellowish “fuzz” form between the layers. This fuzz thickens and congeals until our natural elasticity is restricted. We are literally bound up by our own fascia. What should be lubricated and frictionless instead becomes viscous and impaired. And it doesn’t take long. A few hours without motion and the process of knitting together is underway. A few weeks or months go by and whole areas become stuck. By the time we are old we are bent over and drawn in. We can no longer touch our toes. For some people this happens well before they are old. It doesn’t have to be this way.
This is the real, physical benefit of yoga and Qi Gong. A stretched muscle soon returns to its habitual state, but regular movement-based practices such as these inject energy into the body and work these fascial membranes, which might otherwise become irrevocably stuck together. They create internal frictions that gradually free up the body’s restrictions. Not only that, but yoga especially works certain movement patterns that do not form a part of our normal routine, such as lateral stretches, twists, and forward bends. The twists are particularly useful as they work the spiral fascial planes that connect one side of the body to the other, and bear some similarity to the Gall Bladder channel and Dai Mai, or Girdling Vessel.
It is increasingly believed that static stretches are not as effective as dynamic stretches, if indeed they are at all. Dynamic stretching needs to be performed mindfully and cautiously, so as not to overstretch or potentially tear muscles or connective tissue, but quite often a static stretch is simply lengthening areas that are already free to move (and possibly taking them close to their elastic, or even their plastic limit), whilst areas that are bound up simply stay bound up. It might be that it is not even a muscle that is restricted, but rather a nerve or adjacent area of fascia. Perhaps even a distal one. The tightness in your lower back could be rooted in constricted plantar fascia in the foot. When we introduce internal heat and move in various spatial planes, things can slowly begin to unwind internally.
There is an organ in Chinese medicine that is not acknowledged by Western science. Perhaps it should be. It is the “organ with function but without form” – the San Jiao, or Triple Heater. It is an organ of space. Its three spaces separate the respiratory, digesting, and excretory zones of the torso. How are they separated? By fascia. The diaphragm, for example, is a sheet of muscle partitioning thorax and abdomen… and it’s wrapped in fascia, which creates an impregnable wall between the two zones, penetrated only by oesophagus, vena cava, aorta, and vagus nerve. The San Jiao coordinates the cooling and warming functions of the body, transports fluids, and provides for the free passage of Qi. Sound familiar?
Indeed, from an embryological standpoint, the entire foetal development of the body can be seen as an unravelling of distinct, organisational spaces. These begin as the Eight Extraordinary Vessels: the Du Mai, Ren Mai, Chong Mai, Dai Mai, Yin and Yang Qiao Mai (“stepping” vessels), and Yin and Yang Wei Mai (“linking” vessels). Only after parturition do the Twelve Primary Channels of the Zang Fu take over as we enter the Xian Tian, or “Post-Heaven” phase of our lives. The way in which the embryo divides and organises itself can be equated uncannily closely with the partitioning lines of these Extraordinary Vessels.
Fascia, whilst criminally overlooked, is crucial to us as living organisms. Without it we would literally be a real mess, like blobby amoebae. Fascia is instrumental in the smooth functioning of our organs, and of our muscular, nervous, lymphatic, respiratory, digestive, vascular, immune and endocrine systems. Everything, basically. It holds us in space, and lends us structure, spaciousness, and freedom of movement. Its health reflects our emotional and physical state. Keep it moving, and it lubricates our entire existence in integrated, joyful motion. But let it grow stagnant, and it will bind us, constrict us, and fetter us to a lifetime of stiffness, pain, and decline.
See those elderly people still practising the slow, fluid movements of Taijiquan in the parks of China in their seventies and eighties? Those are people who have not only looked after their organs, their breathing, their minds, muscles, and bones; they’ve looked after their fascia, too. Pulling and twisting, stretching and relaxing their way to a graceful old age.
It’s time to get connected.
Recommended reading and viewing…
Bessel Van Der Kolk: The Body Keeps the Score (Penguin Books, 2015)
Dolma Johanison: The Beginner’s Guide to the Eight Extraordinary Vessels (Singing Dragon, 2022)
Dr Daniel Keown: The Spark in the Machine (Singing Dragon, 2014)
Gil Hedley: Fascia & Stretching – The Fuzz Speech [https://youtu.be/_FtSP-tkSug]
Thomas Myers: Anatomy Trains (4th Edition, Elsevier, 2021)
University of California Television (UCTV): The Role of Fascia in Movement and Function [https://youtu.be/raCBeQ-gXfs]
The Azure Dragon 