For your Wednesday (or Thursday, depending on where you are) reading pleasure, I would like to offer the third piece of my Chinese medicine thesis, written at NCNM. As promised, I’m breaking it up into bite-sized chunks and only presenting the final chapter. The next installment will be the last. I hope, in weeks thereafter, to offer my further reflections on the subject and offer some resources for people interested in pursuing the topic further. I look forward to your comments. If you missed the first two installments, find the links below!

Chinese medicine and phenomenology thesis Part I

Chinese medicine and phenomenology thesis Part II

EDIT 8/5/09: I just realized that the portions linked above were mistakenly taken from an earlier draft of the thesis. I should be more careful! Please forgive me if there are any inconsistencies between the versions. I will most likely go back and repost the newer, more complete drafts soon. You may want to visit them, then, even if you have already read through.

—-

According to Svenaeus, important information that penetrates the clinical encounter is, in a way of speaking, pre-scientific. It is prescientific insofar that is minimally mediated by theory and not readily systematized by the analytical processes recognizable as the basis of contemporary science. In the terminology of philosopher Edmund Husserl (and later, Martin Heidegger and Maurice Merleau-Ponty), this information is all part of the lifeworld. The lifeworld is the sum total of lived experience, not as a static object, but as it is lived. It is those things and experiences that, woven together, make up what we refer to as our life. Things only have meaning insofar that they are situated within the lifeworld. Abstracted outside of that, they cease to have what most of us think of as “meaning” or “importance.” This is obviously a very deep philosophical concept, and I cannot elucidate its full meaning here.

However, it seems, when applied to medicine, as a clinical encounter between two human beings, this theory can inform practitioners that we should seek to engage the wholeness of each person during each encounter. If we incorporate information taken from laboratory tests, or other processes that isolate particular characteristics of our patient, we should situate that information in a field of everything else we know and can perceive about the patient. This would include demographic information filled in on a form, the subjective reports of the patients, our understanding of the world and regional situation the patient is confronting (war, weather, and so on) as well as all the information available to the senses of the physician. Physical palpation (including of the pulse), the visual presentation on all levels, the sound of the patient’s voice, any odors that can be perceived may all provide us with information of use in diagnosis. Before the advent of modern medical technology, of course, this was the primary source of information that physicians worked with. We can utilize this “lifeworld field” in the service of restoring the patient to a greater state of health. In this view, far from being extraneous information, the particular life characteristics of the patient are a key component in her disease process, physicians’ diagnosis of it the ongoing healing process.
Later, Svenaeus indicates that there are efforts in the mainstream medical community to take seriously the implications in the type of argument I am advancing. These enterprising physicians are attempting to construct a system of medicine that situates the lifeworld centrally in the clinical gaze. You can see evidence of this in the formation of medical centers that incorporate spa services, family and individual counseling and other such services. While the chapel has always been a feature of hospitals, increasing numbers of medical centers are also offering meditation, Taiji, yoga and other benefits that seek to address the spiritual side of its patient population. The inclusion of these services within the medical center itself shows an understanding that the healing of the physical body is not separate from the health of the rest of the human experience. Some of these medical centers have also begun to offer complementary and alternative medicine alongside Western medicine. It is obviously important to point out that complementary and alternative systems of medicine (CAM) take the wholeness of the patient very seriously. In fact, the primary focus of most CAM therapies is to restore the person to harmony within that wholeness of their being.

“One central goal of CAM is to improve the “wellness” of the patient. Rather than just removing a disease-producing agent, “quality of life” is emphasized by treating functional or somatic problems with ancillary and important psychological, social, emotional, and spiritual aspects” (Complementary and Alternative Medicine: An Evidence-Based Approach, John W. Spencer, Joseph J. Jacobs) 17.

The continuing integration of CAM into hospitals and other large medical facilities indicates that many Western medicine practitioners are seeing the value of these services.All of these changes, and the important conversations they generate within the profession of Western medicine, are quite important. As CAM becomes increasingly integrated into mainstream medicine, it will begin to inform the practice of Western medicine even as it is informed by Western medicine. Perhaps, then, the holistic nature of the human being and the importance of considering the lifeworld of the patient when diagnosing and treating will become a more central principle in all of medicine.
There are a number of concerns that mainstream medical practitioners and Western scientists have about this integrative process – many of them discussed in my paper already. Much of the worry centers on two basic desires. First, people want to know that medicine, meant to heal, is not harmful for patients. Second, people are concerned that even if a therapy is not harmful, it may simply be an elaborate placebo-based swindle duping hapless patients. While there is much I have said and could say about this, I would like to suggest a few basic principles that can guide us when deciding what therapies and systems of medicine we would like to integrate into our unified health care system. These principles encompass elements of all the criteria of demarcation I have already discussed, while creating a system of holistic care that takes seriously the lifeworld and personhood of the patient. If a system of medicine or particular therapy does not meet these criteria, I contend that it must work to rectify any deficiencies before being embraced by the mainstream.

Phenomenology and Chinese Medicine : the lifeworld, holism and integrative medicine

Related posts:

1. Phenomenology and Classical Chinese Medicine
2. Phenomenology and Chinese Medicine : Our body is the greatest medical technology
3. Phenomenology and Classical Chinese medicine : brief conclusions, opening doors

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

So, as promised – here is the next portion of my thesis written for my degree in Classical Chinese Medicine at NCNM in Portland. I hope you enjoy it! For those folks who requested the first chapters – I’ll get them to you soon. I’m trying to chop this into many smaller pieces so they may be more easily digested – thus hopefully compelling folks to speak up and discuss the ideas I very briefly lay out. Please go ahead and tell me what you think in the comments – I would enjoy some conversation around these simple topics.

If you missed the first installment, please go read about Phenomenology and Chinese Medicine (Part 1).

—-

The doctor possesses all the same complexities [as the patient]. When the two come together, they are also under the influence of the particular place and time where they meet. The multiple variables inhering on the situation boggle the mind. The weather, the paint, the particular complement of the room, what’s going on in the news and whether either is aware of it. This is all perceived, on some level, by everyone involved – though perhaps not consciously. I do not want to imply that each of these variables has some lasting, measurable effect on either one of the participants in the encounter. I simply want the reader to keep in mind that every single medical encounter is simply two human beings, with their messy lived experience, coming together for the purposes of rectifying or maintaining some particular state that each agrees is worth attaining – health or the cessation of disease – depending on one’s outlook.

I want to caution the reader against assuming that this “messiness” as I’ve called it is a detriment to medicine, as some might imply. It is attractive to some to believe that if we simply make diagnosis and treatment maximally objective, by using the mediator of advanced technology and standard diagnostic and treatment protocols based on sound science, we will come to a purer, more useful medicine. But if this results in the removal of the human being from the doctor, if this results in the replacement of the patient by a list of variables gleaned by diagnostic tests, it can do nothing but take us farther down the road of an impersonal medicine that makes mistakes because it does not know enough about the person of its patients. I do not want to imply that any particular medical system, in its totality, does this on purpose or by design. But it is a danger for any medical system, particularly one that seeks to become increasingly rooted in objectivity.

Several philosophers, particularly those who are categorized as “Continental” philosophers, such as Foucault, Heidegger and American Philosopher Richard Rorty can help us to understand why this subjective, messy and quintessentially human nature of medicine is so actually an important feature of its integrity and usefulness. To analyze all of these philosophers and develop a rigorous theory concerning this point is a dissertation-level project. Fortunately, philosopher Fredrik Svenaeus, in his book The Hermeneutics of Medicine and the Phenomenology of Health, does an admirable job of pulling together diverse thinkers in Continental philosophy and other traditions to develop a rigorous philosophy of medical practice. I will offer and annotate some of his argument here as I believe his work points a way forward in any discussion of whether and how

The central focus of Svenaeus’ argument is the examination of the clinical encounter – the functional unit of medicine. Svenaeus explains that technological medicine and an increasing reliance on laboratory research has created a separation between the patient and the doctor. This separation is produced when the patient is not seen as an integral human being with mind, body and cultural context but is instead seen as a kind of space in which particular biochemical reactions and microorganisms are present in specific concentrations and configurations. In essence, the patient has become an object to be carefully studied by the doctor. He explains,

“Negligence of the human side of medicine has been fostered and fed by a focus upon medical scientific research and its biological objects, as existing in a relation of opposition to, instead of connecting with, the encounter between doctor and patient with its specific ‘lived’ characteristics”(Svenaeus, 2001, p. 7).

Much of the patient’s lived experience is disregarded as irrelevant in the situation at hand, unless a study has vindicated that some feature of that experience affects something that can be measured in a laboratory. This, he believes, takes medicine away from its purpose and power as a clinical practice. In sum, the ongoing pursuit of solely objective information as provided by the “causal” studies I discussed above is creating an undesirable side-effect: the removal of the human from the practice of medicine.

There are obvious ethical implications here. When we approach human subjects as objects, our ability to relate to them and, ultimately, to treat them as persons suffers. In the most extreme cases, this leads to sociopathic behavior such as is found in scenes of torture and police brutality. Obviously, in the medical context, the situation is not so extreme. The vast majority of physicians, regardless of their ideological stance, seek to help their patients. But, this is not only a philosophical or ethical issue. I contend that medicine that takes the intersubjectivity and embeddedness of its patients seriously, even makes that the very center of clinical thinking, is actually more effective.

In his discussion, Svenaeus recommends a variety of introspective turns that medical professionals can take. In essence, they all point to the same holistic conclusion. While technological advances and laboratory testing can provide valuable information, physicians must see these variables as only a couple among many. The amazing advances brought about by technological science allow us to, in a way, extend our senses. However, this happy development should not cause us to abandon those bodily tools that physicians have been using since medicine began.

—Thanks for reading!
Eric

Phenomenology and Chinese Medicine : Our body is the greatest medical technology

Related posts:

1. Phenomenology and Chinese Medicine : the lifeworld, holism and integrative medicine
2. Phenomenology and Classical Chinese Medicine
3. Phenomenology and Classical Chinese medicine : brief conclusions, opening doors

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

I promised I would release portions of my thesis (written for my degree in Classical Chinese Medicine) online.  Reading through it, I realize that most of you are likely to be mostly uninterested in the first three chapters.   In those chapters, I write a brief history of the concept of pseudoscience through time, elucidating any concepts that I find to be particularly relevant.  If you’re really interested, and aren’t going to irritate me with non-stop philosophical quibbling (yes, I’m talking to you, and you know what I mean), I’ll send you the first three rousing chapters.

This last chapter is where most of the heavy lifting is done, and I didn’t work on it nearly as much as I wanted to.  I just didn’t have time.  I hope by posting it here, I’ll manage to kindle my own interest in the material again.  I truly do believe that the expansion and enriching of the outline presented in this chapter will form the basis of my theoretical work for many years to come.  Hopefully, it will produce some interesting conversation here on the blog as well.  I’ll post it in parts, one per week, otherwise it will just be overwhelming.  :)

CHAPTER FOUR : CHINESE MEDICINE, THE CLINICAL ENCOUNTER AND HOLISM

“In ancient times, people lived holistic lives.
They didn’t overemphasize the intellect,
but integrated mind, body and spirit in all things.
This allowed them to become masters of knowledge
rather than victims of concepts.
If a new invention appeared, they looked for the troubles it might cause
as well as the shortcuts it offered.
They valued old ways that had been proven effective,
and they valued new ways if they could be proven effective.”

(Hua Hu Ching, Lao Tzu – trans. Brian Walker, 52)

The discussion about the criteria of demarcation shows how philosophers, and generally how most people, look at science and its pretenders.  I believe I have shown that there is reasonable doubt that Chinese medicine can be said to be “pseudoscientific,” in a simple and wholesale way.  Unfortunately, by using the criteria set out by philosophers of science, I likewise cannot say that Chinese medicine is wholly scientific due to problems in meeting contemporary standards of evidence.  Inspired by this difficulty, I have suggested ways that these problems could be remedied, including following the lead of enterprising scientists in the field of Whole Systems Research.

This brings me to what I pointed out as my first major question during the introduction.  Does it make sense to measure Chinese medicine by the standards put forward by contemporary Western science? Contemplating this question, I realized that it opened into one greater – should medicine in general be guided primarily by the kind of research and reasoning I have been discussing?  It is to this question I would like to turn.  I understand that in doing so, I risk running afoul of those people in the mainstream medical community that are enthusiastic about so-called “Science-based medicine” or “Evidence-based medicine.”  I will not squarely address potential objections from this quarter, but this work should serve as a foundation for future debate of that kind.

Having established the parameters of science as such, having compared them against the field that is Chinese medicine, having suggested alternative research frameworks from within which we might be able to accurately measure the outcomes of Chinese medical therapies, I would like to make a simple argument.  Medicine, having the operational terrain (human beings and their relationships) and basic outcome orientation (the maintenance of the “health” of said human beings) is a very specific type of human activity for which Chinese medicine, as a system, is particularly well suited.

This argument consists of two major portions.  First, the assertion that medicine is a special type of human activity that requires that we move carefully in determining what type of theory or ideology we use in its development and regulation.  This argument is certainly in resonance with the principles underlying Whole Systems Research.  The second piece of the argument is the claim that Chinese medicine, broadly conceived, has precisely the requisite features to make it an ideal model for excellence in medical practice.

Before I continue, I will offer two clarifications.  First, I strongly believe that the conversations about scientific methodology, research standards and evidence are a positive feature of contemporary discourse. The kind of analytical precision that Western philosophy, and its product, Western science, brings to the table is indispensable tools in the intellectual development of human beings.  Second, the dramatic advances made by Western medicine and its technological manifestations have had an unquestionably positive impact on serious disease and trauma such as is found after motor vehicle accidents, in organ failures and when diseases have gone to late stages. I have no interest in debasing analytical thought, nor do I mean to imply that Western medicine has no place in the contemporary medical landscape.  In writing this thesis, I have endeavored to make evident that there is ample room at the table of health care to seat all mature parties.   While we may have conceptual or logistical difficulties in bringing all interested parties together, to do so is – at least – possible.

What is it about medicine that makes it such a special kind of activity, relative to other applications of scientific knowledge? Medicine is, at its core, simply the meeting of two human beings in an intentional, and somewhat artificial, setting.  The setting is intentional insofar that the people involves are coming together with very particular aims, although each may define those aims differently.  The setting is artificial insofar that, in general, the person isolates some particular part of their experience (a painful knee, for example) and offers it up for careful examination.  The artificiality of the encounter is, of course, variable depending on the time in history, the country and culture where the encounter is taking place, and the particular nature of the individuals involved.  The information that results from the clinical encounter (whether in the body of the patient via treatment, or in the mind and belongings of the patient via education and treatments the patient may continue at home such as dietary therapy, etc) must then be brought to bear on the patient’s life, with all its attendant relationships, stressors, internal variability and so on.  The doctor must decipher what the patient’s presentation means and must provide them with information that they can take from the artificial environment of the clinic out into the wild of their life.   In other words,

“…medicine is an interpretive meeting, which takes place between two persons (the doctor or some other clinical professional and the patient) with the aim of understanding and healing the one who is ill and seeks help.  Clinical medicine … is thus first and foremost a practice and not a science (Svenaeus, 11).”

The medical relationship, then, begins in the messiness of daily-lived experience, stops briefly in the moment of the clinical encounter itself, and then progresses on back into the world of the patient. This is not mere philosophical conjecture, if any of us analyzes our experience with medicine, we can see ourselves represented in the above description.

We should not deceive ourselves to think that there are real boundaries here.  When the patient sits in front of the doctor, even though they are generally isolating some part of their experience (the painful knee) they come with all the rich life history that accompanies human beings everywhere they go.  The person is of a particular racial make-up, a particular socio-economic position in their society, with a particular place in their family’s birth order.  They come with loves and hates, likes and dislikes, dreams and broken promises.  They have their experiences with medicine and the opinions that are created therein.

This is to say nothing of the unbelievable complexity of their physical bodies – with the alterations that come about because of genetic complement, dietary influx, chemical bombardment from their environment and all the billions of subtle differences that exist because of their life so lived up until the moment of the clinical encounter. This is as much in the case of Chinese medicine as it is in Western medicine.  Human beings, their features and behaviors and the influence of time and space do not change based on what type of medical office one enters.

Eric

—

More to be presented next week, on Wednesday.

Phenomenology and Classical Chinese Medicine

Related posts:

1. Phenomenology and Chinese Medicine : the lifeworld, holism and integrative medicine
2. Phenomenology and Chinese Medicine : Our body is the greatest medical technology
3. Phenomenology and Classical Chinese medicine : brief conclusions, opening doors

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

So, I passed my thesis defense! I have a few revisions to make – when I’m done with those and have final approval I will (a) breathe a big sigh of relief, (b) begin posting portions of my thesis for discussion on the blog.  As I see the topic, particularly of the last half of the document, being the ground for the next decade or two of my intellectual work – it seems prudent to discuss it with as many people as possible.  How else am I going to get good ideas?  ;)

The thesis process was a good one, overall. I know that most Chinese medicine students don’t have to produce something like a thesis – opting instead to do a final project or something of that nature.  If you would have asked me six months ago what I thought about our writing a thesis, I would have given you a pretty negative answer.  At that point, I was still pretty freaked out by the clinical aspect of things and I really felt like we should be focusing entirely on the clinic during our final year.  I can still see the benefit and wisdom of that idea, but I think I’ve developed a different stance over the last months.

Our program at NCNM is a little different than most in that it expressly intends to develop people who are or can be scholars in the field as well as practitioners.  While many great scholars come from programs all over the world, NCNM is the only one that I checked out that actively attempts to develop the scholarly spirit in its students.  Now, of course this is not always successful.  People come to the program for different reasons, only one of which is to develop that scholarly acumen.  It was (and is) definitely a priority for me.  Why?

I continue to feel that this is a critical time in the development of natural medicine, including Chinese medicine.  Great practitioners are needed.  I truly believe that there is a difference between a person who has dedicated their life to the embodiment of the principles underlying Chinese medicine and a person who sees it simply as a career choice or something interesting to do for now.  The experience of opening one’s self to the medicine completely and seeing what happens is profoundly moving, profoundly changing.  Truly great practitioners emerge from this process.  The one-on-one patient-practitioner interactions that these practitioners engage in are doing great work for our medicine as a profession, one changed heart at a time.

However, we also need people who can do more than be practitioners, in my opinion.  We need people who can go out into the community at large and talk about health, healing and living in harmony with nature.  We need people who do not shy away from difficult conversations about our history and our future.  We need people who can write, people who are willing to do cross-pollination between disciplines in an overt and publicly available way, people who aren’t afraid to put themselves out there.  We need to develop a vibrant community of people who are practitioners but also thinkers, scholars – people who can engage in well researched, passionate and decently written discourse both internally and externally.  While a particular educational program is not necessary for that (may great writers have no particular education), in my case it has been helpful.

I was reminded of how something longer than a blog post is written.  Your reading always takes longer than you think it will.  You need plenty of time to think about it, between reading and writing and revising and reading and writing and revising.  You need time to talk things over with peers and advisors.  You will always need to read it many more times than you think.  You will always open more cans of worms than you close.  You will always go through periods of doubt and despair, punctuated with honeymoons of wild elation.  It takes time, it takes energy, and it is so worth it.  So, I learned (or relearned) quite a bit.

I also rediscovered and refined my passion for Philosophy and opened my interest into a whole new realm.  Somehow, all of this has really improved my love for our medicine and has enhanced my clinical practice.  So, it’s good all around.

–

Thesis aside – the majority of my time has been spent studying for, and taking, the NCAAOM board exams.  I’ve successfully completed the foundations and biomedicine exams already.  I found them to be much different from what I was expecting.  I know I am not allowed to share much about my experience – but I’ll just say that I don’t think any commercially available study aid helped me…

I’ll talk about this more in my next post.  I promise it will be soon.  :)

Eric

Writing and the formation of a vigorous Chinese medicine profession

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Hey everyone,

It’s time for another award competition!  :)  This one is on an interesting new health-focused website : Wellsphere.  You may have noticed the badge I got for being a “top health blogger” in the sidebar on the right side of the screen.  I think this site has a lot of promise – I really support efforts to combine social networking tools (like personal blogging, profiles, and subject focused message boards) with a focus on sharing health goals and information.  I encourage you to sign up.

Do also feel free to vote for Deepest Health in the competition – it runs through January 15.  You can do so by clicking on the graphic below or by visiting Deepesthealth.com and clicking on the graphic in the sidebar (scroll down until you find the badge talking about the awards).

Thanks everyone and if you’re on the West coast of the United States – enjoy this crazy weather!  I’m snowed in!

Eric

for Eric G. http://deepesthealth.com/

Wellsphere Health Blogger Awards!

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

I’m glad so many people enjoyed the first episode of this podcast interview with Dr. Arnaud Versluys LAc, PhD.  The second part finds Dr. Versluys expanding on his definition of Classical Chinese medicine by discussing how one uses the Shang Han Lun in contemporary clinical practice, particularly concerning complex diseases typically seen in modern times.  He also discusses the importance of specializing in a particular style of Chinese medicine and gives some advice to those of us seeking knowledge in this profession.  I think you’ll really enjoy the information AND the audio quality – I think I finally got it right.  :)  Check it out at the bottom of this article!

If you missed the first part of the interview with Dr. Versluys you can find it here.  For more background on the six conformations read the article linked here.    I also encourage you to check out Dr. Versluys’ website, particularly the forums – a great place for discussing Canonical Chinese Medicine.

Dr. Versluys uses a few names that may be unfamiliar to listeners – I want to clarify these things for you.  Li Dong Yuan is the author of The Treatise on the Spleen and Stomach (Pi Wei Lun).  Zhang Zhong Jing is (hopefully obviously) the author of the Shang Han Lun
and Jin Gui Yao Lue (originally united as the Shang Han Za Bing Lun).  I think those are the only names he uses.

I’ll release the final part of the interview early next week – it’s a short piece focusing specifically on the issue of herb substitution and the possibility of growing Chinese herbs in the United States.  I hope you enjoy today’s podcast!  As always, feel free to leave any comments – discussion is a great thing!  :)

Eric

Deepest Health Chinese Medicine Podcast Episode 12 : Interview with Dr. Arnaud Versluys LAc, PhD (Part 2 of 3)

Related posts:

1. Deepest Health Classical Chinese Medicine Podcast 14 : Part III of Dr. Versluys interview
2. Deepest Health Chinese Medicine Podcast Episode 11 : Interview with Dr. Arnaud Versluys LAc, PhD (Part 1 of 3)
3. Deepest Health Chinese Medicine podcast : Episode 9 : Interview with Dr. Heiner Fruehauf, Part II

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

As you all know, herbs are my passion. More accurately, formulas are my passion.  Formula science is my passion!  :)  But, I do have a strong affinity for the herbs as plants and study them as such.  Further, I have a real desire to get as close as possible to the original way of prescribing the herbs in formulas, where “original” means Han dynasty or thereabouts.  If you read the Shang Han Lun, there are very specific instructions for how herbs are prepared and how they should be processed.  Many of these instructions appear to be ignored in contemporary times, and I can only imagine that this is having some effect with regards to our herbal effectiveness.

However, even if we prescribe and prepare the herbs exactly as indicated it means nothing if the quality of the herbs is terrible.  Recently, in a class at NCNM, a professor allowed us to taste Fuzi from different sources.  We had three samples of bulk Fuzi.  One was from a popular herb company, the second was from China, specially prepared in the traditional way at the instruction of Heiner Fruehauf.  The third was raw Fuzi – unprepared – from China.

We were asked to observe how the herb tasted, its texture, and how it made us feel.  The first batch was – depressing.  It was brittle, soft, had almost no flavor and absolutely no bodily sensation resulted from tasting it.  This is similar to what is found in many clinics.  We tasted the second batch a few minutes later, the differences were striking! There was an almost immediate pungency and quite a bit of numbness on the tongue.  This numbness continued for quite a while.  We have been told by several professors that we want to find this quality in the Fuzi we prescribe to our patients – it indicates that the living potency of the herb is retained.

The best fun happened when we tasted (just a bit) of fresh Fuzi.  Oh boy!  My THROAT was numb after that one.  You could really feel the medicinal quality – it was incredible.  The only thing I could think after this little taste test was, “How can we get more of the good stuff and less of the bad stuff?”  The consensus seems to be that the best quality Fuzi is not available in the states or really anywhere in the West.  Further, the recent earthquake in China apparently did great damage to the areas where much of the high quality Fuzi is produced – creating even greater shortages.

The quality of the initial herb is only part of the problem – processing is the next piece of the puzzle. Fresh Fuzi is often brined, and then treated in various ways.  Reports have indicated that industrial chemicals and harsh processes are used in the preparation of lots of commercial Fuzi.  At the very least, you can tell that much of what’s available from the major herb companies is wildly over-brined.  The brining process reduces the toxicity of the herb – but we have to remember that the “toxicity” of herbs (usually produced by alkaloid content) is a large part of why it is clinically effective!  Skilled herbalists know how to exploit the positive nature of the herb while minimizing the potential for harm from the strong compounds contained within.  When we overprocess herbs, we don’t do anyone any favors.

How can we, in the contemporary West, make up for these various deficiencies? How can we prescribe herbs in the way they are meant to be prescribed – full of their vital force and particular benefits?  How can we know if an herb has been processed appropriately?  These questions can easily be added to the ones I’ve had about using local species and other related conversations on Deepest Health.  I’m looking forward to hearing what you think about this important issue.  Please voice your thoughts and share your research with us in the comments!  No registration is necessary.

Eric

Herbal quality : the Fuzi (aconite) dilemma

Related posts:

1. Should Chinese medicine be modernized?
2. Chinese herb substitution and using local species
3. Herbs and acupuncture – eight engaging articles on Deepest Health

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

It’s been a very chaotic month.  The continuation of my fourth year of schooling in Classical Chinese Medicine has been profoundly destabilizing in a number of ways.  I haven’t been able to get my feet under me.  This feeling has been further accentuated by the political and social climate, as well as particular personal situations I find myself embroiled in.  But, it’s really been the academic side of things that has been the most difficult to take.

The details are largely unimportant.  I do think there’s something important in all of it.  As a person who is absolutely committed to being a lifelong scholar and practitioner of Classical Chinese Medicine, as a person who has taken the better part of four years to even begin to understand what that means, as a person who has had the unique and wonderful opportunity to work with a variety of folks who have done what I want to do, I have come to seen the difficulty of this task before me.

The difficulty has something to do with the nature of the medicine itself – it is variegated, multi-layered, mysterious, divine.  It is the product of thousands of years of histories in more than one country, in more than one political climate, touched and shaped by hundreds of thousands, even millions, of practitioners.  The difficulty also has something to do with the particular place and time where I find myself.  The way I was raised as a 20th century American kid, the rocky adjustment to the 21st century we’re all making, the political climate of the United States today along with its interpenetration by the world’s political climate, the way that Chinese medicine is practiced in the US… all of this and so much more.  The difficulty also, of course, has something to do with just me.  Just me as a human being, flawed and persistently stubborn.  I imagine I’m not the only person who has had some difficulty figuring out how to be an excellent and integral practitioner of this medicine in the 21st century West.

Over the last four or five weeks, I’ve been challenged on multiple fronts.  I’ve had my confidence rocked in clinic.  I’ve wondered about my focus.  I’ve worried about my ability to integrate all the material before me.  I’ve struggled to make things fit, time-wise.  I’ve panicked about boards, about business planning and about various administrative problems.  I’ve felt thoroughly dispersed.

Then came the steely cold rains of another Pacific Northwest autumn.  And with all the agitated heat of late summer, washed away were the bulk of my worries and strivings.  Through the clear Fall air I could see my problems perfectly, I could see solutions in the distance against the backdrop of Mount Hood.  With each purifying breath, I felt my energy renewed.  The gifts of the metal energy of Autumn.  I ready myself for intensive consolidation, for the pulling inward of the winter – for warm fires safe under the roof being pounded by rain, for squash soup and roasted potatoes, for Moxa on Zu San Li (Stomach-36) every morning with my tea.  Most of all, I welcome the descent into the certainty of my future, for the birth of my scholarhood, for the resting in the calmness of the deep watery ocean of my destiny.

Every year, the five elements and their associations become even more potent as my teachers.  I hope to share some of this with my patient readers.  As things consolidate enough to be grasped, I will be happy to show you what I’ve found.  :)

Eric

Consolidation and the descent into winter

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.