Entering the Flow
Whither Sagely Living?
Across a divide of space spanning a continent, a partnership in exploration has opened whose wellsprings lie removed further still across a span of centuries and oceans. I am speaking, of course, of this latest project that Eric and I have conceived in the course of our conversations over the last few months and weeks. If this is the new development of the Year of Sagely Living, then I count that undertaking a success. I perceive a greater alignment with the operating principles of that concept becoming active in our new pursuit. Or, rather, we have awakened to its possibilities, and take seriously the precepts of the Classical view we hold dear. Above all we are entering a flow. Let me explain.
A Story
I’ve been inspired almost as much by the College of Mythic Cartography as I have been entranced by Deepest Health. Willem Larsen, who is the genius behind CoMC, and is another resident of Cascadia, articulates what he terms “invisible technologies” that underlie his practice of rewilding: that is, decolonizing the mind from the non-indigenous. Another way to put this, is that he recognizes that some of the most important aspects of indigenous cultures, critical components of any definition of sustainability, lie in the cultivation of relationships based on mutual trust and support, and in story as an expression of those relationships to one’s land-base and greater family. He writes eloquently, and if I may borrow a phrase, appears to “live deliberately,” or as I am wont to say, with rigor. His explication of associative reasoning, and t
he role of riddles and story in enlivening knowledge struck me as deeply resonant with the conversations that Eric and I have shared, and with my entire orientation to practicing Chinese medicine.
Further back it correlates with what I’ve learned through many years of association with Leon Hammer. I read his first book, Dragon Rises, Red Bird Flies, in my first semester of acupuncture school and discovered my life’s purpose therein. Eight years later, he chose me to teach a course on that book for its first ever offering. Since that time, the method embodied in that text, but more importantly embraced through years of mentorship, has indeed yielded insights that drive my understanding of the individuals who consult me. But insight is nothing if it is not enacted. It suffers still if kept in silence.
The next insight, a thrill, to be honest, a thrumming indication of things to come, came at an interesting time. After years of practice I had decided to pursue further training in medical school, with the intention of seeking a psychiatric residency. The Baker Act places an acupuncturist in a unique bind. I’ve had patients whom I knew required 24-hour evaluation and supervision -in crisis- but was faced with the certainty that appropriate herbal medicine and acupuncture could resolve the condition more rapidly and with less trauma to the patient. So I conceived of enrollment in medical school as a means of surmounting institutional barriers. I enrolled in courses to prepare for the MCAT, and contemplated at length the options, when suddenly, in an intensely liberating flash of realization, I abandoned the plan resolutely. I felt renewed. I felt like I had been handed $200, 000 in cash and been given a reprieve that granted me 15 years of my life back. I went from being amongst the oldest of potential med students to being again among the youngest teachers in the Chinese Medicine field. Above all, I realized that the plan amounted to a digression that was perhaps the world’s greatest attempt at procrastination. In other words, my work had already begun and there was more to do.
Literally the first thing I did was sign up for the Associates program at Heiner Fruehauf’s site. And then it happened. The article and videos related to Wang Fengyi, the late nineteenth and early twentieth-century founder of a unique lineage of storytelling healers curing with their stories, chants and humble, ethical behavior gave me back the feeling that had enlivened me in Leon’s book, and in every subsequent, often wordless, intimation of the realities laid out before me. It also unleashed a period of intense creativity that led to new insights into everything from the underlying structures of Dr. John Shen’s herbal formulas, to aspects of Dr. Hammer’s methodology and model, and even provided the impetus for the Year of Sagely Living. I discovered Rewilding not long after that.
Rewilding is ultimately predicated on awareness, just like the others practices that inform my life. As a Muslim, I cannot endorse the animist beliefs, and according to some this would indicate that I do not understand the movement. Where awareness is the focus I am fully in accord. I would even argue that awareness is the crux of the critique of modern civilization.
Through a Dark Wood
So this is where our project unfolds: from these disparate elements, we intend to construct an experiment in awareness. Not in terms of normative practices, but in terms of opening ourselves to the symbolic fields articulated by Chinese medicine, and with a commitment to document our findings and chart our exploration. We are saying, “Yes! And…” to the implications a symbolism rooted in antiquity, as a method for creating new symbolic content that is appropriate to the times and places where we are. It is not enough to rehearse old mythologies. That is not to disparage the Classics in any way. Rather, it follows Basho’s admonition to seek what the master’s sought. Where else are these patterns to be articulated if not in our lives?
Another very significant element is our engagement with the concept together. We hypothesize that by allowing the conversation to publicly unfold, much as it has in private, and also to avoid setting arbitrary limits upon it, we will create a free-wheeling and unfettered mode of expression about Chinese medicine. I am the control group in this particular experiment; because like all-too-many clinicians I am not as steeped in the Han Dynasty symbolism that informs the pristine logic of NCNM’s program. And this with having studied Classical Chinese at UC Berkeley! And my estimation is that the conversation will enrich us. After all, dialogue is the form that the Classics assume, both in structure, and in the rich legacy of commentaries that exist. In fact, I’ve dubbed it: Han Dynasty 2.0.
Improvisational Classical Scholarship
This is also not to suggest a mere modernization or even urbanization of an alien cosmology. Every patient encounter is an opportunity to approach the unknown. What mysteries are in each of us? What stories? Riddles? In the meeting of microcosm and macrocosm, there is a grain of sand. If there’s a universe in a grain of sand, then what of the pearl produced by its slow gestation?
As Eric quoted earlier: “it’s a way of effortlessly being with awareness and allowing Chinese philosophical and medical concepts to shape the perspective.”
Sapere Aude
How can this become a practice that is effortless and yet produces insights that will carry over into our clinical work? It is quite simple. In my estimation, the most integral question is a simple one: why? But that does not obviate the need for us to likewise attend to the what’s of our experience. In other words, our answers will be as good as our questions. Everything has its voice, and it may speak to us in a way that we can understand. One way that I describe pulse diagnosis is as a way of listening to the ever-communicating body. So, we will take the rich world of symbolism and metaphor that we’ve inherited from Chinese medicine, and simply frame our questions according to what we want to investigate. In the process we will learn to apply this method to anything that strikes us, and also begin to see the webs of meaning that inhere in the very messages that are being communicated in multivalent means by the body. And we can use all of our senses to seek our answers, and in so doing we will begin to inhabit our bodies and experience our lives in wholly new ways.
Abdallah
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Tags: abdallah stickley, classical-chinese-medicine, commitment, content, creativity, Cultivation, heiner fruehauf, imagination, patterns, scholar, symbolism, The Project, visionRelated posts
Deepest Health Chinese Medicine Podcast Episode 3 : The power of self cultivation
Hey everyone,
It’s Friday and time for another podcast. I’m hoping to invest in some equipment to make the podcast a little more refined in the future, but for now I hope things sound alright. This week I discuss the power of self-cultivation for Chinese medicine (and all) physicians. I also discuss why I think it’s so important to care for our patients from the time they step in the clinic door until the time that they leave. I ramble a bit, but hopefully it’s endearing and not annoying. ;) This one weighs in at about 20 minutes and almost 30MB. The podcasting software that I have been using needs updating, so you may see some changes in the way that the podcast is displayed in the relatively near future.
Some links I discuss in the podcast:
- My beloved alma mater : NCNM
- Some articles of my own that I mention:
- Website of Heiner Fruehauf, founding professor of the Classical Chinese Medicine department at NCNM
Please click on the player below to hear the podcast, you should also be able to right click and download it or - NEW! - download it via iTunes! Please let me know if you have any technical issues and I can help you troubleshoot.
Thanks as always,
Eric
Tags: Acupuncture, Blogging, clinic, Cultivation, heiner fruehauf, meditation, ncnm, Podcast, QiGong, Student LifeRelated posts
Taking it all in: Buddhist practice and Chinese medicine school
I’ve been struggling for the past couple of weeks. I’ve gone through the range of responses to my difficulty, mostly hovering in the realm of “just keep moving” which seems to work for me. The fact is that since I began Chinese medicine school at National College of Natural Medicine (NCNM) I’ve gone through periods of difficulty. Some of them come with warning - I am asked to interact directly with something challenging for me - but mostly they sneak up and don’t give much explanation as to their origins. This time has been one of those latter types. Finals week was hard. I mean, medical school is supposed to be hard, right? True, this finals week was particularly difficult. It reached deep and it wouldn’t let go, even with a very relaxing Spring break. But, somehow, this isn’t enough of an explanation for the kind of existential weirdness I’ve been experiencing.
Well, most of these things come on quickly and without much fanfare and leave much the same way. This time it broke open gently, slowly, and not all at once. In fact, there are some stubborn bits that refuse to go. But the breaking open has released some articles that I’m going to write all in one sitting and release over the week. They may represent something of a departure from my regular musings, but I hope they will be helpful to you nonetheless. The first, this one, is probably the most important for me to get out. So pay attention, will you? And let me know how it goes.
A short time ago, I was reading the Shambhala Sun,a wonderful Buddhist publication for anyone (not just Buddhists), and was struck by an article by noted Buddhist author Sylvia Boorstein. The article discusses the Divine Abodes, an element of the Buddhist explanation of reality that centers on particular states of consciousness that are (in part) an antidote to some pretty common negative emotional states of human beings. The Divine Abodes can be translated as (1) equanimity (2) impartial goodwill (3) spontaneous compassion and (4) genuine appreciation. The article discusses these states of consciousness in a very approachable manner and I learned a lot from it, but that wasn’t really moved me.
I was particularly interested in the simple explanation Boorstein gives of one of the primary insights of Buddhism. That is that situations, in and of themselves, have no inherent nature. My sitting in this coffee shop writing an article cannot, in a sense, MAKE me feel one way or another. I may have various reactions to being here (the basics being positive, negative and neutral) and those reactions are ok, but they can cause problems. For instance, if I enjoy it very much my clinging mind may start scheming to find a way to retain the experience and, knowing that I have to be somewhere in 45 minutes, I may begin to suffer the negative effects of knowing that this, too, shall pass. Boorstein talks in easy prose about her lived experience as a person observing her own reactions to various stimuli and finding equanimity within these situations. Equanimity allows us to experience all situations in such a way that we do not suffer from them, though we may still (of course) feel pain, pleasure or indifference in response to particular stimuli.
What does this have to do with Chinese medicine? Well, plenty. As I mulled over this article, I realized how important its insights are for students. In every educational program, we have classes that move us tremendously, others that we don’t really care one way or another about, and others that we actively dislike. When I am in a class that I love, I feel inspired and excited and I’m so reluctant to leave! This is particularly the case if I have a class that I don’t prefer soon afterwards. In fact, wonderful classes negatively impact my experience of classes that are less interesting to me. When I’m in a class I don’t prefer, I find myself not really taking in the information and - indeed - not even really being IN the class. I disconnect. I suffer in response to considering having to go to that class in the future. All of this dramatic running towards and running away serves no purpose but the stroking of my own ego - my steadfast resolve that I know what is good or valuable and what is bad or worthless. It detaches me from my lived experience and probably robs me of a great education.
So, I’ve begun trying to cultivate equanimity in class. When I say “try” I really just mean that whenever I notice my state moving in the direction of overt negativity, overt positivity or obvious indifference, I try to come back to being in that moment. What’s going on around me? What is my body sensing? What is the professor saying? Where is my breath? In this way, I had the best pharmacology class EVER today. The danger, of course, is that I become so interested in so many things that I don’t know what to focus on! :D But, there’s no rush and no aching need to spend every waking moment in pursuit of knowledge when my state is one of equanimity - so hopefully no danger there.
I realize I may not be communicating this absolutely clearly, but I hope the essence is coming across. I think this kind of state might be quite helpful in a clinical situation as well. It’s really just a variation on the old exclamation, “BE HERE NOW!” I’d be interested in hearing others’ thoughts in the comments.
Eric
Tags: buddhism, Cultivation, education, Learning, ncnm, Personal Development, Student Life, students, studyRelated posts
Another scholar reviews his first month of Sagely Living
This is an article that Michael Givens, author of the recent article “Why does Chinese Medicine seem so complicated?” sent to me last night. He was one of the first on board for the Year of Sagely Living, but doesn’t have an online home - so he’s posting his insights here.
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Since this is the last day of January and near the new moon (and new seasonal node), I thought it would be fitting to write up a review of the month for me in this “Year of Sagely Living.” I have been participating, but have not shared my experience in the discussion, so perhaps I’ll try to continue to after this with more monthly reviews. I am very appreciative of all of your efforts, Eric, and inspiration. This project could not have come at a better time.
At the beginning of the month I made the following personal commitment:
1. School work
I committed myself to study for each class on one day a week for two hours, as well as a 30 minute formulas review each day. I also choose one other subject each day to research further and deeper than was taught to me. I have 8 classes, so I needed to combine two classes to one day (one hour for each). This may seem like not a lot of studying for classes, but I have to keep in balance a family (I have two children) and my wife is also a Naturopathic Physician who is beginning to open her own practice. So, I have to keep my study time focused and efficient.
2. Classical Texts Personal Study
I am enrolled in two classical texts courses at NCNM (one on the Shanghan Lun and the other on the 19 lines of Pathology in the Neijing), but they are focused on exploring the texts in Chinese, so much of the work is in improving my continuous study of classical Chinese as well as deeply engaging specific aspects of the essential classical texts. In my personal study, I am committed to not only familiarize myself with the classical cannon of Chinese medicine, but to know as much of it by heart as I can. So, I practice memorizing lines or specific information from the texts. In this project, I committed my self to continue to study the Ling Shu (of the Neijing), the Shanghan Lun, the NanJing, the Jia YiJing and the Shennong Bencao Jing. I have been studying these texts for a while now, so I chose specific chapters to focus on, or specific texts to complete (if I hadn’t read it through completely yet). I committed myself to focusing on this study at least two hours a day, two days a week. This is as much as I am able to fit into my schedule.
3. Writing
I also committed myself to writing for a half an hour a day, every day. I wanted to choose a topic and explore it in depth. I also committed myself to writing one article per week to be submitted somewhere or saved for a later submission.
So, how successful was I with this project?
Terribly unsuccessful, I’m sad to say. Yet, it has been a great lesson for me, and by continuing to simply view it as a lesson and an experiment, I did not beat myself up about it, but rather, kept reminding myself of my goal. In the first week (prior to school beginning) I was very successful in my study and classical text reading, yet could not get myself to sit down to write. By the time school began, I was able to maintain only my classical text study. This may seem strange, for it means that I neglected my school studies and chose my personal studies, but it shows me that when I do not have my life in balance, I uphold only what I truly want and put off what I need to do, but can do later.
I feel that I put a lot of intention into my plan that was really quite intense and in doing so I believe that I sabotaged myself. It was as if since I couldn’t wait to get started, I jumped in too quickly, planning on doing too much, and the energy I put into my plan carried too much weight; I simply couldn’t find a rhythm with it. By the third week though, I felt much more detached from the outcome and the plan itself, and simply tried every day to participate as much as I could in my commitment, and soon I found myself much more on track than the weeks before. This last week, I have even written an article which Eric graciously posted. Thus, I’ve greatly benefited from this project already, but I have also learned to return to following more of a middle path in life, to keep the extremes and the intensity to a more harmonious central rhythmic flow.
I enjoyed focusing on the Scholar aspect of this time, though I see that it is the time of the Gall Bladder moving toward the Liver. Though I think this has been a perfect time of year (especially for students) to focus on strengthening the Scholar, another perspective of the twelve archetypes of the seasons is that it is the Ram who is the true scholar, the Small Intestine (the sixth month), the King Wen archetype, who, locked away, worked out the scholarly mapping of the energy of the Bagua. The Gall Bladder, who is the Rat (this first month), is much more of the King Wu archetype, who, seeing the eclipse at noon (much like transition from the old year to the new year) initiated the great battle and marched his troops to attack the Shang by “crossing the great water.”
Thus, perhaps I was more taken away with my Gall Bladder intensity of initiating this project, and unable to maintain the scholar’s rhythm and cultivation. I am hoping that as the Wood energy rises in this node of “Li Chun” or “Spring Standing Up” time of the Liver, I will be able to sustain my plan and continue to flow with it. In harmonizing with the Qi of the seasons, I believe I will be able to do so. I’ll let you know how it went.
Michael Givens
Tags: balance, Classical Texts (general), commitment, Cultivation, focus, January, Michael Givens, personal commitment, scholar, students, studyingRelated posts
Reviewing one’s progress in the realm of self cultivation
There is something inherently fishy about “evaluating” myself when it comes to a program of personal development. While goal setting is an important activity, and awareness of my strengths and weaknesses is essential to many things, there seems to be some way in which self cultivation stands exempt from my every attempt to measure it. How did January’s Year of Sagely Living goal go for me? Did I reach the benchmarks I laid out for myself? Well, yes and no.
I originally set out to study half an hour a day in each subject I’m studying in school. This turned out to be impossible given my many other responsibilities. But, this was not a failure. It gave me valuable information. It told me where my limits are and why they are there. It gave me an opportunity to evaluate those supposed limits and decide whether I wanted to accept them. It also helped me to be ok with where I am - pushing myself to my limit let me know that what I *am* able to do is *all* I’m able to do. That’s profoundly nourishing.
Falling short of my original mark, I set another one. I decided to study at least two hours in every subject every week. While this may seem laughable to some, for a variety of respects, it seemed about right to me. While I know I shorted a subject or two due to their lower weight in my overall academic scheme of things, I made up for that by studying a bunch more in my favorite class, Formulas. It turned out that two hours a week is just about right. It has been profoundly helpful and I think it has already increased my understanding of the medicine. As such, I plan to adopt it as a constant goal while I’m in school. After school, other scholarly goals will need to be set.
Several folks have joined on in the Year of Sagely Living - and they have had varying degrees of “success” with the program. I will include links to their sites at the end of this article, all definitely worth reading through. In the end, I think they have all discovered what I have. The simple act of focusing on a particular realm of life is transformative. Whether you can objectively evaluate “progress” is up for debate. So what does this mean for the rest of the Year of Sagely Living?
I still feel that the setting of specific goals, or the declaration of commitment to a certain practice or set of practices is very valuable. In that way, discussing whether one was able to fulfill that commitment makes sense. However, the benefit of these activities are more likely to be fractal in nature and difficult to put your finger on. While I am able to say that I have increased clarity and less stress as a result of my January YSL attempts, the true power is less measurable and more likely to develop over a long period of time. This, really, is the aim of the Year of Sagely Living. Not to set and meet goals. Not to yield some list of optimal practices that everyone could/should follow. Simply to articulate essential features of Chinese medicine and attempt to live by them in contemporary society.
I’m looking forward to February! February 1 happens to be my 31st birthday, so it will be an emergence into new things on more than one front. :)
Eric
Tags: commitment, Cultivation, focus, goal setting, January, Personal Development, scholar, study, studying, Year of Sagely Living







