Chronic Pain Can Be Our Greatest Teacher

For many years, my lower back was my quiet teacher.

The pain wasn’t dramatic at first—just a dull ache that appeared when I was tired, stressed, or pushing myself too hard.

Over time, it became more persistent, especially in the winter. I stretched more, rested when I could, and tried to “fix” it, but it always seemed to return.

It wasn’t until I began studying Chinese medicine that the pattern became clear.

In Traditional Chinese Medicine, the lower back is the home of the Kidneys, and the Kidneys store Jing, our deepest essence.

Jing is like the oil in a lamp—it fuels our growth, strength, bones, and ability to recover. Years of hauling photo equipment around (I used to be a photographer), caring for my children, lack of rest, and even excessive physical activity had slowly depleted this reserve. My lower back pain wasn’t a failure of flexibility—it was a message from weak muscles around the lumbar joints and exhaustion at the root level.

Winter made it louder.

Winter is the season of the Kidneys, when energy naturally turns inward. Instead of honoring that rhythm, I was still living like it was summer—doing more, pushing harder, giving more than I had to give. The pain was asking me to slow down and rebuild from the inside out.

Healing didn’t come from aggressive stretching or powering through strong backbends. It came from practices that nourished Jing, warmed the body, and created stability.

In qigong, slow, grounded movements became medicine. Practices like gentle spinal waves, kidney-warming breath, and standing postures helped circulate qi through the low back without draining it. I learned to move slower and feel more—to build energy rather than spend it.

In yoga, I shifted my focus to strengthening and support. Poses that stabilized the pelvis and spine—like slow bridges, supported warriors, gentle squats, and long holds in strength-building poses —helped the muscles protect the joints.

Forward folds became soft and grounded, not deep or forceful. Twists were nourishing, not extreme.

Most importantly, I learned to rest without guilt.

Over time, the pain softened. Not because it was forced away, but because the body finally felt supported. My lower back no longer needed to shout—it had been heard.

When we care for our Kidney Jing—especially in winter—our bones grow stronger, our joints feel safer, and the back becomes a place of support rather than strain.

This is the quiet power of qigong and yoga when practiced not for performance but for healing at the root.

Hope to breathe with you soon.

From my heart to yours~

Namaste,

Maggie