It's been a long time, here at your random word generation device--over a month, I guess--and I apologize. I try not to let more than two or three weeks go by between posts. But I been busy with moving in, adjusting to school life, and getting my head and belly fully into the game of my studies in Chinese medicine and traditional Western herbalism. I'm a month into my four year program in the former, and about to start a 9-month long course in the latter at the School of Traditional Western Herbalism with renowned herbalist Matthew Wood and some bad-ass local teachers to boot. I'm probably slightly insane to be taking all of it on at once, but I'm awful thirsty. More on the herbal stuff later, as it gets rolling. Today (in honor of the advent of the Year of the Rabbit, perhaps?) I want to focus on the Chinese end of things.
Underlying the bustle of a busy new school schedule and tying together my seemingly disparate set of classes at the Classical Chinese Medicine program at NCNM is the real work: becoming intimately familiar with the conceptual framework of pre-modern China. I may be spending a lot of time learning Chinese characters, probing auricular acupoints and practicing pulse and tongue diagnosis, but the fundamental task of this first year is getting grounded in another worldview. This process involves a certain amount of culture shock, as when the "organs" of Chinese medicine turn out not to correspond too terribly closely to their anatomical namesakes, or even to anatomy at all. In the CCM program luminary Dr. Heiner Fruehauf's cosmology course, we explore the esoteric resonances of each of the 12 "organ networks" one at a time, spending weeks on each one as we examine the hidden layers of depth that will ultimately serve to unlock the medical system but that modern "traditional Chinese medicine" (TCM) too often misses completely in its drive to root itself in modern scientific objectivity. Thus TCM usually dismisses the association of the Lung (capitalization indicating that it is the Chinese organ in question) with the Tiger as mere superstition, when in fact this connection is one of the keys to understanding the function of the Lung both in terms of healthy function and pathology of that organ network. Check out Dr. Fruehauf's work for in-depth exploration of these rich and fascinating correspondences; here is a good place to start.
Medical systems based on traditional worldviews, while themselves scientific and empirical, defy both the reductionist and the materialist assumptions of modern science; when these complex and ungainly pegs are forced to fit into the straight and narrow hole that currently prevails (but whose days, quoth the red one, are numbered), most of that brilliant complexity is shorn off. I saw this happening in Nepal while studying Ayurveda, and I gradually came to understand that traditional Southasian medicine has been deforming in response to colonial pressures since the days of the East India Company. Is it still Ayurvedic practice when local herbs like Guduchi (Tinospora cordifolia) are prescribed by doctors on the basis of their anti-inflammatory properties instead of based on their rasa, virya, vipak, and prabhav, on the prakrti and vikrti (constitution and current state of im/balance) of the patient, and on other factors like kala and avastha? Likewise, Goldenseal may be a passable substitute for anti-microbial drugs, but in all honesty, why not just go straight for the Amoxicillin? It'll probably work a lot better, and the principle is the same. Really traditional medicine looks beyond the external manifestations of disease to the deeper, subtler, more internal realities that lie behind them. What pattern resulted in the inflammation or the fever? What is the state of the tissue, that it was unable to stave off the viruses or bacteria? In wholistic medical thinking, the internal factors are at least as important as the external ones. What sane farmer blames the weed seeds in his soil when, in mid-July, his crops are being smothered? Of course there are weed seeds; of course there are viruses and bacteria out there; our job as stewards of the land or of the body is to cultivate properly and practice preventatively when possible, and in times of acute need to make the appropriate intervention. There may be times for herbicides and antibiotics; to use them indiscriminately is irresponsible and ultimately detrimental to health.
The beauty and difficulty of medicine--any intelligent, sensitive, medicine, no matter what tools and intellectual tradition it comes out of--is that treatment depends always on particulars. In traditional (as opposed to conventional) medicine, these particulars include such subjective factors as whether the patient feels hot or cold; some fevers call for "cold" herbs like Goldenseal, others for "warm" ones like ginger or even "hot" ones like prepared Aconite. Of course this "energetic" understanding is much more nuanced than a simple spectrum measuring pseudo-temperature; herbs have many qualities, each with its own spectrum, and multiple dimensions beyond such considerations. It's all beautifully knotted up into the fabric of traditional understandings not only of herbs, medicine, and bodies (the microcosm) but of the world, the universe (the macrocosm). This is why it's a year before we even start learning herbs and points in our Chinese medicine program. There's a couple millennia's worth of groundwork to cover.
This is one of those posts where I've come to a stopping place without ever getting to what I set out to cover, namely the rudiments of the Chinese system, the 5 elements or phases. In truth, my plan was to paste in (and dress up and contextualize) an essay I just wrote for one of my classes on the phases and their relationship to the 5 flavors recognized in Chinese medicine. Evidently I had some venting to do first. This is what happens when I stay away for too long! And, if I look at the historical trend, what happens to me at the early stirrings of Spring. Hinting ahead to the next post's material for a moment here, it's relevant that the liver and the element of wood--think green growth, not dead lumber--govern this season. Out of the abundant stillness of winter's water burst the new green shoots, up and out. It's a time of shaking up, bursting out, and as I've just experienced, dredging stale remnants of resentment or frustration and doing a little good, old-fashioned ranting. May the new shoots soon bear more palatable fruit!
Underlying the bustle of a busy new school schedule and tying together my seemingly disparate set of classes at the Classical Chinese Medicine program at NCNM is the real work: becoming intimately familiar with the conceptual framework of pre-modern China. I may be spending a lot of time learning Chinese characters, probing auricular acupoints and practicing pulse and tongue diagnosis, but the fundamental task of this first year is getting grounded in another worldview. This process involves a certain amount of culture shock, as when the "organs" of Chinese medicine turn out not to correspond too terribly closely to their anatomical namesakes, or even to anatomy at all. In the CCM program luminary Dr. Heiner Fruehauf's cosmology course, we explore the esoteric resonances of each of the 12 "organ networks" one at a time, spending weeks on each one as we examine the hidden layers of depth that will ultimately serve to unlock the medical system but that modern "traditional Chinese medicine" (TCM) too often misses completely in its drive to root itself in modern scientific objectivity. Thus TCM usually dismisses the association of the Lung (capitalization indicating that it is the Chinese organ in question) with the Tiger as mere superstition, when in fact this connection is one of the keys to understanding the function of the Lung both in terms of healthy function and pathology of that organ network. Check out Dr. Fruehauf's work for in-depth exploration of these rich and fascinating correspondences; here is a good place to start.
Medical systems based on traditional worldviews, while themselves scientific and empirical, defy both the reductionist and the materialist assumptions of modern science; when these complex and ungainly pegs are forced to fit into the straight and narrow hole that currently prevails (but whose days, quoth the red one, are numbered), most of that brilliant complexity is shorn off. I saw this happening in Nepal while studying Ayurveda, and I gradually came to understand that traditional Southasian medicine has been deforming in response to colonial pressures since the days of the East India Company. Is it still Ayurvedic practice when local herbs like Guduchi (Tinospora cordifolia) are prescribed by doctors on the basis of their anti-inflammatory properties instead of based on their rasa, virya, vipak, and prabhav, on the prakrti and vikrti (constitution and current state of im/balance) of the patient, and on other factors like kala and avastha? Likewise, Goldenseal may be a passable substitute for anti-microbial drugs, but in all honesty, why not just go straight for the Amoxicillin? It'll probably work a lot better, and the principle is the same. Really traditional medicine looks beyond the external manifestations of disease to the deeper, subtler, more internal realities that lie behind them. What pattern resulted in the inflammation or the fever? What is the state of the tissue, that it was unable to stave off the viruses or bacteria? In wholistic medical thinking, the internal factors are at least as important as the external ones. What sane farmer blames the weed seeds in his soil when, in mid-July, his crops are being smothered? Of course there are weed seeds; of course there are viruses and bacteria out there; our job as stewards of the land or of the body is to cultivate properly and practice preventatively when possible, and in times of acute need to make the appropriate intervention. There may be times for herbicides and antibiotics; to use them indiscriminately is irresponsible and ultimately detrimental to health.
The beauty and difficulty of medicine--any intelligent, sensitive, medicine, no matter what tools and intellectual tradition it comes out of--is that treatment depends always on particulars. In traditional (as opposed to conventional) medicine, these particulars include such subjective factors as whether the patient feels hot or cold; some fevers call for "cold" herbs like Goldenseal, others for "warm" ones like ginger or even "hot" ones like prepared Aconite. Of course this "energetic" understanding is much more nuanced than a simple spectrum measuring pseudo-temperature; herbs have many qualities, each with its own spectrum, and multiple dimensions beyond such considerations. It's all beautifully knotted up into the fabric of traditional understandings not only of herbs, medicine, and bodies (the microcosm) but of the world, the universe (the macrocosm). This is why it's a year before we even start learning herbs and points in our Chinese medicine program. There's a couple millennia's worth of groundwork to cover.
This is one of those posts where I've come to a stopping place without ever getting to what I set out to cover, namely the rudiments of the Chinese system, the 5 elements or phases. In truth, my plan was to paste in (and dress up and contextualize) an essay I just wrote for one of my classes on the phases and their relationship to the 5 flavors recognized in Chinese medicine. Evidently I had some venting to do first. This is what happens when I stay away for too long! And, if I look at the historical trend, what happens to me at the early stirrings of Spring. Hinting ahead to the next post's material for a moment here, it's relevant that the liver and the element of wood--think green growth, not dead lumber--govern this season. Out of the abundant stillness of winter's water burst the new green shoots, up and out. It's a time of shaking up, bursting out, and as I've just experienced, dredging stale remnants of resentment or frustration and doing a little good, old-fashioned ranting. May the new shoots soon bear more palatable fruit!
Good post, as always! Interesting how some practitioners of traditional medicine have tried to pass themselves off as scientific in the same sense as conventional medicine--this herb treats that--and, in my admittedly limited experience as a food co-op worker, often cling to rather dubious studies as supposed proof. You suggest that this approach risks debasing traditional medicine. Am looking forward to your further explorations on this theme as you write about Chinese medicine!
ReplyDeleteOne thing to be said here is that the practitioners you mention aren't practicing traditional medicine per se at all, but rather a modern herbal medicine or modern acupuncture or whatever. As for the studies, the issues surrounding objectivity and replicability get awfully tangled. From a traditional South or East Asian perspective, as far as I can represent those traditions, the studies that are being done miss the point entirely. Whether the parties in question recognize it or not, the assumptions behind the traditional and the modern/biomedical paradigms differ so widely that it's difficult to design a study that satisfies rigorous scientific standards while staying in line with the traditional point of view that it purports to test. There's a different set of variables at work; I think from a really classically Chinese perspective, for example, the whole idea of double-blind, randomized, clinically-controlled research would be considered absurd. Traditional medicine is so much about specific yet qualitative factors like time that, as variables, are difficult to measure, let alone control. (Then, of course, scientific research is notoriously difficult to do objectively in the first place, but that's another topic entirely.)
ReplyDeleteI think where a lot of people are at is that they want an alternative to a biomedical system that treats the body (very effectively, in certain situations) as a machine--I'm leaving aside for these purposes the whole issue of pharmaceutical drugs and issues like the corporitization of medicine--but they don't have a viable alternative perspective to plug into. Even if they get exposed to something like Chinese medicine, it's difficult not to make sense of it all in terms of one's own, usually sub- or semi-consciously held assumptions and worldview. They end up grasping at the external forms of the "alternative" system, things like herbs, for example, without importing the wisdom necessary for appropriate and effective use. This has happened very obviously with herbs like Echinacea and Goldenseal, both of which I understand are very effective for what they were traditionally used for (guess what, it wasn't colds or the flu). But even more pernicious than this trend, as I see it, is when traditional medicine in places like India, Nepal, and China feels the need to start justifying itself in biomedical terms. In my experience this isn't just a power play or bid for acceptance, but a symptom of a post-colonial (or simply 21st century global) syndrome whereby Western values and assumptions are so pervasive that even the supposed carriers of other cultures' medical traditions are influenced by them. These people then think they are doing their traditions a service in "updating" them or "placing them on a firm scientific footing."
In my book, the medical traditions of the world--both folk practices and bona fide, bookish "Great Traditions" like Unani TIbb, Ayurveda, and Chinese Medicine--have proved themselves by the fact of their very existence over centuries and millennia, and the modern notion that they have hung on as "mere superstition" or for lack of a better alternative only demonstrates our current cultural arrogance (which, of course, is nothing new, as powerful civilizations tend to hold their ontological and epistemological views up as eternally and ultimately correct). If we don't see the value in traditional cultures in general, it's because we no longer have the eyes to see it. There's seems to be a sea change afoot in this respect, however, as people are increasingly fed up with the materialism of the age; all our societal speed, our cult of youth and money, is reaching such an extreme that it can't help but birth its opposite. The seed of yin born into the fullness of yang, as the days start to shorten and rebirth the winter right at the height of summer. It's exciting to feel that undertow gaining momentum. Interesting times!
If you were to recommend a book to start my journey into the world of Chinese medicine, and another for my journey into Western herbology, what two books would you recommend?
ReplyDeleteps. I switched to email, hope that's ok!
Let's see. In terms of Traditional Western Herbalism, I can wholeheartedly recommend Matthew Wood's books, specifically The Book of Herbal Wisdom and both volumes of the Earthwise Herbal. The Practice of Traditional Western Herbalism is good too, more theoretical, less materia medica, but even the other three are full of invaluable theoretical material in their introductory sections. I haven't read his first book, 7 Herbs: Plants as Teachers, but I bet it's really worthwhile as well.
ReplyDeleteChinese medicine is a trickier thing to get into, as most of the stuff out there doesn't really go the full distance in terms of unpacking the cosmology. Classicalchinesemedicine.org is a great resource for this more in-depth level, but it may not be all that user friendly for a first-timer. Also, Ted Kaptchuk's (Kapchuk's?) The Web that Has No Weaver is an alright place to start. And I haven't read it yet, but I've been hearing a lot about Nourishing Destiny by Randall Jarrett. Finally, and not to confuse the issue, but I also highly recommend Robert Svoboda's books on Ayurveda. He's a great writer, very sharp and witty, and not too dogmatic with his doshas. If you get very far into this stuff you'll find that there are great commonalities between all three systems, but it may be wisest to delve into one at a time. It depends on you, I guess. I'm excited for you, just getting into this wonderful and betimes bewildering stuff!
Jon
Thanks, Jon. I'll look up one of Wood's books when I get back home.
ReplyDeleteI've been making a lot of ginger tea with herbs, spices, and honey this winter. Tastes great, but admittedly I have no idea what I'm "doing"!
Part of what you're doing is warming yourself up, so that your "surface" doesn't tighten up. When the surface tightens and the pores close in response to wintry weather, the defensive energy (Chinese "wei qi") can't circulate freely. In Western terms, there's decreased immune activity; this is why grandma says not to go out in winter when your hair's wet. Ginger and warming spices (and most spices are warming) are a good general winter measure and specific cold season prophylactic, and useful too in the early stages of most colds, when the pathogen is still in the exterior or surface layer. At the first sign of a chill, sniffle, or stiff/painful neck, have a hot cup of extra strong ginger-cinnamon-clove-black pepper tea--boil it all up together ("decoct' it) for 15 minutes or so, rather than just steeping it--and get under the covers and make sure you break a sweat. This'll drive the cold right out, quite literally. It's not called a cold for nothing. A simple, famous, extremely venerable Chinese herbal formula is in fact based on this idea. It's called gui zhi tang, cinnamon _twig_ decoction, and makes of the specifically exterior-targeting actions of the branches or twigs of the cinnamon tree. It's got ginger in it, of course, as well jujube dates, peony root, and licorice.
ReplyDeleteGinger and warming spices work to keep you healthy in the winter in another way, too: through their action on digestion. A huge amount of our bodily energy goes towards the digestive process, especially in winter when we not only need to burn up more fuel to stay warm but tend to eat heavier, richer foods. Ginger warms the stomach, helping kindle that digestive fire, so that more of our energy can be used elsewhere. Cooking with warming spices and lots of ginger in particular is helpful, but so is taking it as a tea or making a "ginger pickle" with lime juice, rock salt, ginger and honey. Not such a strange idea in Kathmandu--aduwaa ko achar, hoina, Sam-ji?