Click here if you would like to read the first part of the travelogue.

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The quality of the harvested root is entirely dependent on the care that has been taken in the process of cultivating the crop. Rich people always get the highest quality product, while poor people can rarely afford the highest grade. Sometimes the crop is harvested during the 7th month, yielding a product referred to as “Early Water” (Zaoshui), the roots of which are too small to fit snugly inside a closed fist—these represent a type of Fuzi that is not quite mature yet.

Overall, the cultivation of Fuzi brings with it the fear of inferior quality, and is hard to bring to maturity. Sometimes the seedling looks good, but then the sprouts don’t prosper; or the sprouts prosper, but the root does not fill out; or it ferments and rots underground before the harvest; or it splits open and becomes deformed; or some creature erodes it. Therefore it is customary for the planters to make a sacrifice to the Heavenly Spirits before the harvest, or make gestures to the plant spirits.

The harvested product is processed by first fermenting it, using containers of wine that are placed in a sealed room. There, the roots are steeped for several months until they start to ferment and increase in size. Afterward, the roots are removed from their brine and exposed to the sun and wind until they are completely dry. When the roots first emerge from the wine, the largest pieces are as big as a man’s fist. After drying, they will shrink to a smaller size, producing a dried root around which an adult’s hand can close. It is rare to yield a root that reaches a weight of 1 liang (40g).

Altogether, there are 7 types of Fuzi products—all of them start from the same mother root, yet their final form is different. (Separation of the following passages into a bulleted list is my addition to make it easier to read.  Eric.)

• The transformation of the original seedling is called Wutou (Crow’s Head);
• In general, offsprings that sprout out side-ways from the Wutou are called Fuzi (Attached Offspring)
• If an even pair grows out to the left and right, it is called Lizi (Tripod Root);
• If one grows out that is particularly long, it is called Tianxiong (Heavenly Male)
• If one grows with a sharp point it is called Tianzhui (Heavenly Awl)
• If one grows out of the top of the root it is called Cezi (Sidelings)
• And those that grow all over the place are called Loulanzi (Offsprings from a Leaky Basket).
• All are linked to the main root like a child is connected to its mother, but since the name Fuzi has come to be valued the most among them, all of these are now called Fuzi while the other names have fallen into disuse.

If one plants a seedling that yields 6-7 offsprings, the harvested roots will be small. If one yields 2-3 offsprings, they will be larger. If one plants 1 that grows 1 offspring, it will be especially large—this is the norm. As for the shape of Fuzi, the ones that have few corners and can sit squat on an even surface are considered to be of the highest grade. So-called rat breast shaped roots with many corners are of 2nd  best quality, and those that are uneven in shape, exhibit crumples or were injured during the cultivation process are of the lowest grade.

As for color, the plants that have white flowers are considered to be best, those with rust color are 2nd, while those with blue-green flowers are deemed to be of lower quality. Tianxiong, Wutou, and Tianzhui all are considered superior when they are full in size, producing a root size that does not fit into a closed hand anymore. The Loulan and Cezi variety, in contrast, are generally considered not worth counting and are given to the beggars.

Overall there are only few people in Shu (Sichuan) that consume Fuzi regularly. Only the people of Shaanpu (today’s Shaanxi Province), Min (today’s Fujian Province), and Zhe (today’s Zhejiang Province) have made Fuzi consumption a regular habit. The traders in Shaanpu focus on bringing the lower grade to market, the ones in Min and Zhe tend to trade the medium grade, and the highest grade is generally sold to public officials (mandarins). The nobility has money and loves the extra-ordinary, and thus is generally satisfied with only the larger kind of roots. Some local fellow with a basic understanding of medicine once said: “The small roots should indeed be avoided, but every piece that weighs more than ½ liang (20g) is good, it is not necessary to seek out those rare ones that measure a full liang”–that just about sums it up.

The Shen Nong bencao jing once remarked: “Fuzi grows in the mountain valleys of Qianwei (today’s Leshan in Sichuan), as well as left of the Yangzi (the southern banks of the lower reaches of the Yangzi River), South of the Mountains (the regions south of Mt. Hu and Mt. Zhongnan), Mt. Song, and the region of Qi and Lu (today’s Shandong Province).” My research shows that there isn’t any Fuzi that grows in these areas. This is clearly a mistake.

The classic further states: “If you harvest the crop in the spring you will get Wutou; in the winter, you will get Fuzi”—a major mistake, in my opinion. The text goes on: “Fuzi that exhibits eight corners is of the best quality; the corners are called Cezi.” This is an even bigger mistake, and completely different from what I learned in the course of my research. This is truly a case of “to believe only what is written in books is worse than having no books at all”!  All the data above stems from my original field work.

Eric’s note: The last paragraph is, of course, quite interesting.  I think the intensity of his comments is probably misguided, but he was clearly very excited about what he discovered.  It may be that the SNBCJ, like many texts of its time, was referring to more symbolic information as opposed to very specific growing/harvesting instructions.  It may also be that between the Han and Song dynasties things simply changed with regards to Fuzi.  This is why I’ve become more and more interested in combining understanding of the Han (and earlier) texts and later (but still early) commentaries like this one.  It’s a big job, but rewarding.

I know that this kind of article is a little hard to comment about – what to say?  I would like simply to hear from you if this translation, so kindly provided by Dr. Fruehauf, was useful to you.  What did you learn?  What more would you like to know?  Add your thoughts in the comments or head over to the Facebook group to discuss. Thanks everybody!

Related posts:

1. Fuzi : exploration of the growing regions and conditions of aconite

1. Classicalchinesemedicine.org : a fantastic educational resource for people interested in the roots of Chinese medicine.  Heiner is really building something special there.  Note:  CCM.org is currently down as they upgrade.  It’s going to be 100% more fantastic when it re-launches.
2. Classicalpearls.org : Home of easily the most effective and Classically based encapsulated herbal formulas.  Based on the research and clinical work of Dr. Fruehauf, I use them personally in my own practice as well as being a willing advocate of them whenever people will listen. 

As a student of Heiner’s, and because of my deep involvement with the Classical Pearls, I am privileged to learn a lot of information that I couldn’t learn anywhere else. Some of that I would like to share here on Deepest Health.

As many of you know, Fuzi is an herb that I am deeply interested in.  I have seen some very dramatic clinical successes when Fuzi was brought into the picture, and there is also just something captivating about the plant.  There is a lot of information coming out on the Classical Pearls Facebook Page about Fuzi, but some of the information that the Classical Pearls team would like to put out is just too long for the Facebook format.

So, I’m happy to be able to share it here with Deepest Health readers.  This post is the first of, hopefully, many articles to come that draw on the research and scholarship of Heiner Fruehauf and others.  I hope this information will be useful and interesting to you as well as stimulating lots of discussion.

Today, I want to share part of a translation that Heiner did of a Song dynasty travelogue.  In this work, a scholar Yang Tianhui reports about his travels searching for the facts about Fuzi.  What I find fascinating about this work is just the way it allows us to have a deeper resonance with the PLANT in very fine detail.   I’ll offer just a couple of paragraphs now, and release some more next week – hopefully with a little bit of extra information tracked down by yours truly.  Later paragraphs have some very interesting cosmological information as well as continuing to help us understand more about the complicated nature of Fuzi growth and harvesting.

Enjoy – and thank you Heiner!

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Yang Tianhui:  Notes from My Visit to the Fuzi Growing Area of Zhangming County

(Song Dynasty, 1099 CE)
translated by Heiner Fruehauf

NOTE:  This work is covered by the same Creative Commons license as the entire site.  Please be ethical in your use of the work of others.

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Mianzhou (today’s Mianyang in Sichuan Province) is the ancient region formerly called Guanghan. Its land is divided into eight administrative districts, among which only the county of Zhangming (today’s Jiangyou) produces Fuzi. Zhangming consists of 20 townships, among which only Chishui, Lianshui, Huichang, and Changming are suitable for the cultivation of this particular crop. The total arable land in all four townships amounts to a bit more than 520 Qing (approximately 320 acres). 50% of this land is set aside to yield rice, 30% is used for beans and other staple crops, and only 20% is reserved for the cultivation of Fuzi. Combined production output for all 4 towns is 160,000 catties (10 tons) of Fuzi. The town of Chishui produces the most, followed by Lianshui, while Huichang and Changming yield only very small amounts.

In all 4 locations the peasants prepare the land for cultivation by clearing the fields at the appropriate time of year, then plant it with a jumbled mixture of dill (Anethum graveolens), shephard’s purse (Capsella bursa-pastoris) and wheat grass. Once these fertilizer crops have begun to sprout robustly, they are plowed under, leaves and roots and all, until the land looks clear again. Only then the aconite seedlings are planted. For each Mu of land 10 pieces of cattle are used, applying 50 Hu (approximately 450 gallons) of their dung as fertilizer. A 7 cun (9 inch) ridge in the field is called a Long, a 5 chi (1.5 yards) ridge is called a Fu. Once a field is fully prepared it consists of 20 Fu and 1,200 Long.

Long measurements use the Fu ridges as landmark, their depth is the same. The rest of the land consists of ditches for drainage and irrigation. Once the spring sun has come out in full force and the Bi Constellation has emerged (during the 3rd month of spring: April), the Long and Fu ridges are being repaired in preparation for the rains that inundate the land at this time of year. Once the spring rains have passed, causing the crop stalks to grow tall, weeds are cultivated to form a protective ground cover around them, to keep the gradually intensifying rays of the sun out. The amount of labor required for this type of crop is thus 10 times the effort applied to other fields, yet the year’s yield is also ten-fold of what other crops bring in, possibly more.

Together, these 4 townships plant more than 1,000 Hu (approximately 9,000 gallons) of seedlings. The best seedlings come from the surrounding areas of Long’an, Longzhou, Qigui, Mumen, Qingdui, and Xiaoping. The seedlings are planted during the 11th month starting at the winter solstice, and the mature roots are harvested just before the end of fall in the 9th month of the year (October).

The plant stalks look like wild growing Artemisia (Ai), but they appear more lusterful. Their leaves can be compared to Valerian (Dima), yet they are thicker. The flowers are purple, the leaves are yellow, and the stamens appear long, full, and round.

I hope this reflection will be useful to all those Chinese medicine students out there who struggle with figuring out what TYPE of Chinese medicine to practice…

Today, on a walk I was taught an important lesson by some late migrating geese. In the late summer and autumn, we get a whole lot of geese flying overhead in my neighborhood. We live pretty close to a couple of wildlife refuges, one being specifically devoted to waterfowl. In general, in Portland, the autumn is always accompanied by the resonant, melodic sound of Canadian geese fleeing Canada. It’s one of those things that is commonplace, yet never seems to lose its magic. I’ve noticed a lot of things in Autumn are like that – the leaves turning, the miracle of the harvest, the start of formal schooling and so on.

Anyway, today I had one of those magic moments – fog bank just rolled in, walking on a hill in clear view of the setting full moon and the rising sun reflecting pink and crimson off of morning clouds. Mushrooms bursting from beneath damp fallen leaves. People out, coffee in hand, walking overly excited dogs. That nestled place between Lung and Large Intestine time – things cracking forth, but the calm and presence of the early morning still laying on its soothing balm. Very nice.

Then there were the geese. There were seven or eight of them, so just a paltry flock. There was some confusion (not uncommon) where they seemed to be trying to figure out which way to go. Now, I know enough about geese to know that just because they seem to be flying North doesn’t mean they’re lost – often they’re just heading to a feeding or resting ground. It’s the larger direction that matters, not my little snapshot views. But, that doesn’t matter for my story. There was some confusion in the sky, and about half started heading clearly North, the other half clearly South. One goose was caught – she flew North, she flew South, she started calling loudly – she seemed pretty distressed by the whole thing.

Finally, she broke South – doing double time to catch up with her chosen group and they continued off into the distance. As I watched them cruise, I got a series of images as I faced South – the direction that all Sages must face, the direction that helps us make sense of so much Chinese medicine physiology and pathology. Mostly, I just got a sense of great peace, of openness, of newness and warmth and a bright future. I thought – good choice, little goose.

Now, I’ve been particularly prone to reading signs in everything these last few weeks, so pardon me. But, the whole drama (!) seemed curiously familiar. I think it might seem familiar to some of you, as well.

At NCNM, I was introduced to a wide variety of schools of thought regarding medicine – herbalism in particular. Without getting too much into it, let’s just say that people can get a little spirited about what they see as the “truth” of the matter. I certainly have been guilty of this. As students, I think we were looking for something to hold on to. Something to call our own – or rather – something to say, “This is right, this is true and I know it, I subscribe to it.” Some way to make sense of the seemingly insurmountable task of learning a medicine that is thousands of years old and must be translated into what we have available in contemporary times.***

I’ve sometimes felt torn because of my particular proclivities and the wrinkles and folds of my personal situation. I had moments when I didn’t want to practice medicine at all. It seemed too impossible to figure out what was right – the clinical stage didn’t clarify things any better than the classroom and I just felt totally overwhelmed. I had moments where I wanted to have a time travel machine and visit Han dynasty and ask Zhang Zhongjing what the whole deal was really about. There were also times when I felt pretty confident, pretty sure, and even a little fanatical about what I was learning. Those times were always followed by a lesson (pride precedes a fall, afterall).

In the last month, things have settled out. I felt very much like that goose for the last year or so, and I’ve started flying in a particular direction. It hasn’t been without its consequences. Moving towards one thing almost always means leaving another behind. Some good goose friends had to be parted from, on some level. I only have so much time and attention. I have had to repeatedly remind myself that the direction I’m turning away from is not WRONG, just different. Demonizing people who think differently from we do only serves to make us demons in the eyes of others. It never serves the quest for knowledge and healing.

You know? Darnit if I don’t feel just like I felt on that hilltop watching those geese disappear. Warmth, openness, a surge of energy, signs from all over God and Creation. It’s not that the other way is wrong, it’s just that this way is right. It leads to more, not less. It opens me into an endless realm of possibility and sweetness. I have already seen the results in my acupuncture, in my herbal prescriptions, in my presence with my patients, and in my bank account.

So, to any of you who are feeling this – particularly you students – take heart. You will find your way. Sit quietly with yourself, go on walks, get treatment, sing songs, talk to animals and go through your rebirth. Getting born is rarely pain-free, but it always opens into a whole universe of experience that was previously unavailable to you. I promise.

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***Note : I’m not saying that ancient medicine isn’t directly relevant to contemporary times and people. Please. I’m just saying that some of the things they had available, we don’t have available – or very nearly (Fulonggan, for one – Sheng Fuzi for another – there are legal implications for some acupuncture techniques). Further, while there is truly nothing new under the sun – people do have a different way of living, eating, and even dying today and we would be idiots not to at least consider that fact sometimes, even if we are just “treating what we see,” and even if we are (correctly) not taking into account Western disease names and categories, etc…