It’s a cardinal rule in blogging that one shouldn’t write too many “sorry I’ve been away” posts. They tend to convey weakness, over-involvement in one’s own process and generally turn readers off – particularly first-time readers. If you’re a first time reader, may I suggest that you hunt through the Articles page or look to the archives and calendar in the right hand columns (scroll down!) for some of the great content that has been pumped out here at Deepest Health. All that to say, this is sort of a “sorry I’ve been away” post. :)
But – with a twist! Content will be deftly woven throughout – perhaps particularly useful for my peers across the country and around the world who are in their final year of Chinese medicine school. But even you savvy practitioners will be able to recognize something of yourself in my words – and hopefully you will be able to offer some wisdom and insight to those of us still on the “other side.”
I’ve been thinking about writing for about two weeks – I looked back at a couple of posts I wrote recently and realized that I had resolved to write more frequently. The idea was to just put out there what I was learning. A noble goal – and one to which I am still committed. The fact of the matter is that I’ve been learning a lot, a whole lot. But something happened to me during the summer term – sometime around August, I think. It was a combination of several things:
- My clinic adventures dealt a mighty blow to my self-confidence.
- Various personal explorations and experiences left me in a very introspective frame of mind.
- I got tired of being on the computer so much.
- I started several seminar/discipleship series that commanded a huge amount of attention and time (they’re still doing that).
As I thought about writing on Deepest Health, I began to have this curious sensation of looking over my last 6 months or so and seeing the time for what it has been. It took me a while to fully render the image and be able to put it into words. It’s nothing short of being born again. No part of my life has been immune to the birthing process. It’s been a squirming, squalling, squishy, endorphin-heavy mess. I can only imagine this is part of many folks’ education process in Chinese medicine. This may be particularly true in programs that have discipleship components or choose to teach in a more Classical manner. I imagine that for some more TCM oriented students, the final year might feel different.
Why do I say this?
At NCNM, when engaged with whole-heartedly, nothing short of a total rearrangement of the Self takes place. Now, there are plenty of little nagging problems at the school. It’s a relatively new program with lofty ideals, and institutions often take a long… long time to work out kinks. Still, the overall structure of the thing is sound, and I think it’s making a decent practitioner out of me. However, it’s been a hell of a ride. The first year, my entire sense of the universe and myself was shattered. Swallowed whole, partially digested, regurgitated and reconstituted. Yes, my friends, my entire experience of life became something like an owl pellet. There’s no prettying that one up.
The second year was about finding my way. I found myself strongly attracted to herbal medicine and found that I had a natural affinity for learning herbs and their personalities. Then I met Arnaud Versluys, which ignited my love for the TEXTS of Classical Chinese Medicine. It’s important to say that, during the year before, Heiner Fruehauf had already enflamed my passion for the medicine, for imaginative thinking and for the core principles and ethos of the Classical Chinese way of doing things. These two streams of thought converged, and with my fragile confidence with the herbs, I became aware that I actually COULD do this with the rest of my life.
The third year was nothing short of a blitzkrieg of information – my self-confidence increased as I came to understand formulas. In Clinical Observation, I felt I was finally able to get some kind of diagnosis from a patient before the doctor spoke. My spiritual and personal development began to shift, however, and this started to destabilize my already fragile sense of who I am in this medicine. This destabilization continued through the summer between my third and fourth years, with the added stress of actually being IN CLINIC with patients. This is when the long slow push through the birth canal began in earnest.
I truly have had the sensation of being squeezed, almost to the point where I can’t really think. My ability to drum up any meta commentary about anything has been dramatically reduced. I haven’t had the time or energy to do much but just experience what’s in front of me. I haven’t been studying as deeply or as broadly as I was before. There’s no doubt in my mind that the departure from NCNM of my most active mentor, Arnaud Versluys, shook me in ways that took me a while to recover from. In fact, that experience made me question pretty much everything – in a similar way to my first year adventures. But there is the sensation of increased pressure and urgency due to my impending graduation (June 2009).
All of this has resulted, only in the last couple of days, in a completely reordered list of priorities and best practices. I have been in personal development and spiritual flux for about ten years, and I have the curious sensation of having found a set of practices that I’m going to be sticking with for a while. This has coincided with a similar stabilization in the realm of Chinese medicine practice. Over the coming days, I’d like to share these things with my readers. I hope it will be of some help to those of you who might be undergoing a similar experience.
The summary is this, my friends: It’s been a rough one, I’m stepping out of the long dark and I’m happy to be back. Thanks for your encouragement and patience.
Eric
Tags: versluys, stress, heiner fruehauf, writing, Blogging, Learning, ncnm, arnaud versluys
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
Hahah, you said owl pellets!
As I’m a Classical orphan out in TCM land, my final year is going a bit differently. It’s more like the third to last leg of the Tour de France where you’re thinking “how much longer do I have to look at this guy’s spandexed butt?” followed by “I don’t know if I’m going to make it and if I do I don’t know that it will really have been worth all this pain.” I’m primarily frustrated by having to dumb down the things I really know from studying the Classics and force them into little boxes labeled things like “Liver Qi Stagnation” while constantly having my every thought overridden by superiors. I want this over with so I can get away from these yahoos and get to work. On the flip side, I feel half trained. I feel trepidation for my future because I don’t have any definite prospects as yet. I haven’t had a paycheck in three years so I have no capital and terrible credit. How am I going to get to the level that the properly trained people are at and how am I going to actually go into practice? How am I going to start paying back all this student loan I’ve accrued? So for me it’s not so much being squeezed out of the birth canal as it is being a baby bird in the nest and mama bird is winding up to kick a baby bird field goal.
Oh man, that’s a tricky position. I hope that our continued online communication can be some help on some of those fronts, though you’re on your own credit-wise. ;) I do think that the best learning comes through practice, though, and the more you work and keep reading the classics (and studying with the good profs when you can) the better you will get. I can’t wait to see how your blog entries morph and change years out… don’t stop writing! Don’t stop believing! In owl pellets! :)
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I salute your dedication in your chosen field. In the long run, I know you may be able to help other people. Chinese medicines though are proven to be effective since the ancient times but how are we going to address the issue of fake ones? It’s hard to identify which are genuine or not nowadays. But anyway, please continue your journey.
It seems you have grown and chosen a few new pathways along the way. Interesting to read about your progress.
Hey G. Michael,
I’ve always appreciated your questions on this and Arnaud’s site…I think that regardless of our education, our questioning will lead us out of the dark (though the answers we come upon may or may not)…
So, for both you and Eric (and myself), let’s keep questioning! I also agree with Eric, who tells me time and time again that it is our job (as strange as it seems) to educate our teachers! Challenge them with your questions so that they at least become a little uncomfortable in their cozy boxes.
Michael G.
Hi Eric,
Looking forward to reading what you have to say.
I find the trauma a bit of a worry. A touch of Taoist-take-the-easy-path may not go astray at the school methinks.
Pain is necessary to growth. The descent into hell is part of metanoia. The point is to never have to go it alone. Even the Daoists knew this.
Thanks Michael G. Glad to be of use. I’m afraid I get on Arnauds nerves. :D
Eric, just remember that you encouraged me re this online communication stuff. For good or ill. :D
And props to Dr. Stickley.
Hi Abdallah,
For me pain is (usually at least) blockage. Not an original thought I know.
I think usually there is a non-painful way to achieve anything that there is a painful way to do. Call me an optimist.
Evan (optimist:-),
The “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” are blockages indeed. But to flow through them, though painful, is truly to be freed.
Eric 加油！