Author: White Pine
Autumn 2015 by Sally Robinson,L.Ac.
Oh the glory of Autumn!!
The season of fall has arrived, bringing with it a fresh perspective. In Chinese Medicine, fall is associated with the Lungs and Large Intestine, letting go, grief, and the color white. For some of us, fall does truly feel glorious, whereas for others it may conjure up anticipatory dread of what comes next. We are all different; some of us are perhaps more comfortable and willing and even ready to shed layers of emotion, freeing up more capacity to be present. Some of us may be clinging on to lost love, unfulfilled desires and may feel it necessary to continue to hold on. There is no right way to proceed. But rather can we pause and contemplate how we are? Can we bring consciousness to the ways we are perceiving our lives? Maybe we discover there is a little to let go of, or none at all, or a whole lot.
We, as humans, like to relate to the world around us and extrapolate significance from the macrocosm of the universe, integrating it into the microcosm of our individual experience. So, as we witness the maple, cherry, sycamore, oak, and birch trees dropping their leaves, we are encouraged to also let go. Some of the leaves are intricately beautiful and vibrantly colored, maybe even suggesting we too can let go of something we deeply treasure? Those evergreens, the pines and spruces and hemlocks, are not dropping their needles. They must have another intrinsic means of renewal. Some of us may need to stand firm and gather our energy.
Here is a haiku I’ve composed on the subject:
reflecting pools fill
with leaf clutter, longing for
crisp clear autumn skies
Late Summer 2015 by Sally Robinson, L.Ac.
Here we are in Late Summer, a season unto itself in Chinese Medicine. This season is associated with the Spleen, the Earth element, the color yellow and contemplation or worry.
The Spleen energetics relate to transition. The Spleen Qi is what keeps us centered and focused while we transition. We come back to that sense of center within ourselves, that round Earth energy in our middle area, that of the Spleen and Stomach. It can be helpful to visualize a yellow orb in the middle part of the body, like a joyous and peaceful Buddha belly.
“The Spleen loathes Dampness” is an adage from the Classics in Chinese Medicine. Dampness manifests as muddled thinking, poor digestion, and low energy. Ways we can transform Dampness are eating warm and cooked foods, clarifying the mind by practicing meditation, and burning moxa(Artemisia vulgaris) on acupuncture points to nourish the Spleen.
Haiku for Late Summer:
sitting still, pausing
the gold finch seeks solace in
but a fading bloom
Off spring!
The starting gun has been fired, and they are off! The birds and bees and trees and flowers are all flinging themselves toward their biological finish line of procreation. The world outside is pretty much singing “Wheeeeee!” as it bursts forth and multiplies. Trees are erupting into flower, bees are going about their business like they don’t know they’re in peril, and the birds are getting wickedly territorial.
We are springing, folks, and that means babies.
My own offspring materialized in the spring of 2011, and since then I – like all parents – have undergone a series of transformations such that sometimes I barely recognize myself. I can say with certainty and sincerity that I don’t know how people do it without acupuncture and herbs. Especially the mamas.
Not because I think mamas are the weaker sex. But because it is the greatest physical (etc) task to fetch a living, conscious being from the ether, grow it, change with it, hold it inside, and deliver it. Regardless of the method of delivery – they all have their healing times and requirements. And very, very rarely do mamas get that time and those requirements met. The body just has to carry on, because now there’s a person whose very existence depends upon you.
There are lots of ideas about what it means to be a modern parent, and a modern mama especially. Consequently, there are lots of questions a modern mama asks: Should I work? How much? Can I afford to stay home? What are the costs of being away? Do I breastfeed? How long do I breastfeed? Is co-sleeping weird or unsafe? Will I be able to do this?
Will I ever get my body back?
In acupuncture there is a channel that runs up the middle of the front body that is all about bonding and nurturing. (Pregnant and post-partum ladies, as well as some newborns, often have this channel highlighted in the form of the linea negra.) There are many beautiful things to say about the significance of this channel translated as the “Conception Vessel;” it forms how we take care of ourselves, how we connect to others, how we understand what love is.
But the bottom line is that for the first few years of a child’s life, nourishment – in all senses of the word – is the central tenet of effective parenting in terms of acupuncture channels. In acupuncture theory the mother and the child are literally part of the same whole, even after delivery. What is good for the mama is good for the baby, and vice versa. So regardless of how you answer the above questions, if the answer encourages appropriate connection, bonding, and feeding, it’s the right answer.
This essay was first posted at The Lantern Project. It appears here with permission.
Winter 2015 Newsletter
Dear friends of White Pine,
Hello, brrrrrr, and welcome to 2015!
Let’s hop straight to it! In this newsletter, you’ll find:
1. New Year(s) Special
2. Moxa for sale, get ’em while they’re hot!
3. Brian’s free class series
4. Massage promotion
5. DIY food therapy
6. Sally’s (in lieu of) haiku
1. Happy new year(s) special
In honor of 2015 and the impending Chinese new year, we’re offering a special at White Pine:
Buy a gift certificate for a friend and save money on your next treatment!
Here’s how it works:
- Buy a gift certificate for a new patient ($140) and receive $30 off your next treatment.
- Buy a gift certificate for an existing patient ($80) and receive $15 off your next treatment.
Treatments must be used in 2015. Discount offer expires on the Chinese New Year (the Year of the Sheep!), February 22, 2015.
2. Moxa sale!
Bring home some moxa for warm, DIY nourishment. Loose moxa and sticker moxa products are 40% off, and pole moxa is two for $1. Offer ends March 1, 2015.
3. Brian’s leading “Touchstones”
We’re excited for Brian’s upcoming collaborative discussion group, Touchstones.
Read and discuss excerpts from the Great Books and other great authors and:
- Join a community rooted in collaborative discussion
- Speak authentically in a supportive environment
- Learn effective group dynamics through specific exercises designed to avoid group pitfalls
The group will meet (most) Sundays here in Asheville from March – August. Click here for more information and to sign up.
4. Massage promotion!
If you’ve never gotten a massage from Tara at White Pine, now’s a great time to start.
Tara is offering a 20% discount off her 60-minute and 90-minute massages to new massage clients.
This offer ends March 15, 2015. Click here to schedule your massage!
5. DIY recipe – love your kidneys
As we’ve probably told you in previous newsletters, each season corresponds to an “element” within Chinese philosophy and medicine. Each element also corresponds to our bodies. Winter, as we know, is the darkest time of year – when the world burrows down deep to rest and prepare for the great effort of spring. Winter embodies the water element: darkness, deepness, powerful creative potential, wisdom, and fear. This is a huge topic – deep and fertile soil – but suffice to say here that within the body, the water element coalesces as the kidneys.
There are lots of reasons to want to nourish your kidneys (fertility, longevity, avoiding low back pain, caring for the knees, the teeth, the bones, the hair on the head…) and lots of ways to nourish your kidneys according to Chinese medicine (soaking the feet, eating seeds, staying warm with moxa, getting more rest than you might think is reasonable.) An ideal time to nourish the kidneys is, well, all the time. But an especially ideal time is during winter, when we are at our slowest.
Sesame seeds are considered to be a direct kidney tonic in Chinese medicine food therapy. Click here for Sally’s favorite (dairy-free) “snowy sesame milk” and give your kidneys a little wintertime love!
6. In lieu of haiku
While gazing up at the winter night sky, pondering the fathomless depths of the dark night, feeling the mystery, it became clear this mirroring of as above, so below.
The black watery depths riddled with starlight miraculously reside also in me.
The black watery depths riddled with starlight miraculously reside also in me.
A flicker of golden light, a tiny little flame emanates through the darkness, birthing infinite possibilities, sourcing the cerulean dawn.
Blue arising from the black! Light warming the darkness…….
Wishing you well,
Sally Robinson, Brian Huwe, Mary Beth Huwe, and Heather Spangler
How we decide where the needles go
The body has hundreds of acupuncture points that we can use in combination to affect a certain change. The points we choose and how we needle them depends upon each patient’s unique presentation. In addition to the information we obtain during our intake and gather through conversation with the patient, we take pulses at both wrists and observe the tongue.
We usually spend about 3-5 minutes or so “listening” to the pulses, as it is sometimes called. This is a different process from what happens at your MD’s office; we’re not counting beats per minute in one wrist. Rather, we feel three different pulse positions in each wrist. Rate is part of what we look for, but that’s generally relative to the breath – not beats per minute. We also notice the pulse’s overall qualities – is it forceful, weak, strong on top, empty down below, thin, wide, etc. We’re interested both in how the pulse appears as a whole and how the three different positions feel individually.
There’s a lot that goes into pulse diagnosis – there are books written on the subject – so suffice to say here that we are able to gather substantial information both about the current state of affairs in the body, and about the subtle direction of health.
The same can be said for the tongue. We look at its overall character – is it red, pale, shiny, wet, dry, covered in a thick coat, puffy, thin, quivering, stiff, speckled, cracked? This gives us clues as to the state of fluids in the body. As the beginning of the digestive system, the tongue gives us insight into the health of overall digestion. The tongue is also understood as a type of map that reflects the health of the body’s other systems.
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This essay first appeared on The Lantern Project. It appears here with permission.
What’s qi?
by Mary Beth Huwe, L.Ac.
Qi (“chee”) is a way of understanding the body’s interconnectedness. Like electricity, qi is not a substance but rather a dynamic exchange between positive and negative states called yin and yang. It is essential to anything that lives and grows. It is the force that means we are alive. All living things have qi – birds, dogs, plants, fish.
Because humans are conscious, we have a more complex expression of qi than, say, marigolds, and this is not always to our advantage. This more complex expression gets tripped up and pathological in more ways and in more places. When this happens, an acupuncture needle can restore the proper flow of qi in the body and move out obstructions.
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This essay first appeared on The Lantern Project. It appears here with permission.
“Coincident” explored
by Mary Beth Huwe
A phenomenon that we regularly see in the acupuncture clinic occurs when a person receives treatment, feels better, and then wonders if this was merely coincidence. “I mean,” they might say, “would I have felt better anyway?”
Let’s take the example of a patient who injured her knee. This was not her first knee injury, and each time the healing pattern was slow and laborious. She came in while the injury was still acute, and saw increased mobility, decreased pain, and a healing time of about 2 days – compared to her usual 2 weeks. And she asked, “Would this have happened anyway?”
It’s good to examine whatever treatment we decide to undertake to make sure that it makes sense for us. And in that examination, the above is a good question to ask, in general. But I’m most interested in what it reveals about us and our beliefs. In this case, it seems likely that we ask that specific question because we’re separated from ourselves, and we don’t really understand how natural medicine works.
Most people will agree that acupuncture and herbal medicine are natural medicines, and that somehow that’s not the same as “Western” medicine. But often the same people expect the two medicines to behave alike, even though they acknowledge that these medicines differ conceptually.
One way to look at the difference is to examine the language the medicine uses to describe its methodology. It is not uncommon in biomedicine to talk in combative terms. We are accustomed to “fighting” a disease, “killing” cancer cells, or “going under the knife.” Generally, a substance or a surgery is introduced to overcome that which is occurring in the body. Often, the patient views the sickness as something separate from himself, like a rebelling force that needs to be squelched.
In acupuncture and herbal medicine, we have a different kind of language. We talk about “releasing” pathogens, “clearing” heat, and “building” fluids. In other words, we are interested in reminding the body of what it already knows how to do. Sometimes a light reminder will do. Other times we remind a little more loudly.
This truth calls for an adjustment of our expectations. I’m not saying we should expect natural medicine not to work. It should work. We just shouldn’t expect it to behave and feel like biomedicine, because it doesn’t and it won’t.
So how does it behave and feel?
The answers are as varied as the people who experience the sensations. My personal experience was a certain type of physical and mental awakening. The specific symptoms for which I first sought acupuncture diminished, yes, but even more exciting was the development of an ability to connect more deeply to my body. With monthly treatments and my active participation, I felt my perceptions shift. It was as if I received a bonus sense, one that combined with and brought a glow to all of my usual senses. This is not exactly measurable, but it is very real.
Many people report a similar experience. They notice improvements in their senses; they feel sturdier; gross processed food suddenly tastes gross and processed. (It’s a good thing when what’s bad for the stomach tastes nasty to the tongue.)
In short, acupuncture and herbs help the body begin to be an assimilated whole. Physiological processes that were before jerky or pathological can again become smooth. Such a feeling is so right, so human, and so natural that it can be easy to forget to trace it back to the treatment.
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This essay first appeared on The Lantern Project. It appears here with permission.
Do I have to believe in acupuncture for it to work?
by Mary Beth Huwe
People often ask me if they must “believe” in acupuncture to receive its benefits. The short answer is “no.” Belief is not required in order for the needles to do their work. You don’t have to know what qi is, or that your gallbladder has acupuncture points on your foot. Many people who have experienced great relief initially came to us feeling either very skeptical or completely unsure of the process.
That being said, there are ways you can participate in the healing process, and actually enhance it. This primarily starts when you begin connecting the dots between your acupuncture treatment and how you feel when you’re not on the table. Similar to exercise and meditation, acupuncture increases a person’s physical and mental awareness – both as independent forces (“Wow, my balance is better. Wow, my mind is clearer,”) and as related entities (“Gee, when I feel anxious, my stomach is also upset.”)
We also notice that people accelerate and enhance their healing when they rid themselves of the negative things in their lives – whether it’s giving up fast-food, getting out of a moldy house, leaving an unfulfilling job, or dropping a miserable relationship. Each of these things powerfully reinjures the qi on a daily basis. Removing such things from one’s life is a powerful augmentation of acupuncture’s benefits.
You can also sabotage your progress. This is quite common in the beginning; people unintentionally run themselves down after they start feeling good again. It can take a little practice, getting used to managing the renewed sense of health. But it should be done, otherwise it’s kind of like winning the lottery and blowing it all.
And sometimes – this is a bit more complicated – people unconsciously slow their progress because they’re actually more comfortable feeling terrible than feeling great. A familiar routine is comforting, and changing that routine can be frightening … even if you hate the routine. Acupuncture can be very helpful in untangling this kind of pattern.
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This essay was first posted on www.lanternprojectonline.org. It appears here with permission.
A rose by any other name…
“What’s in a name?” muses Juliet Capulet as she ponders her taboo love for Romeo Montague. Does what we call something really change that thing’s essence? Though Juliet is right that a rose “would smell as sweet” if we called it a carbuncle, there is something meaningful about how we use language to name a thing. Language is powerful and reinforcing. We use it casually, and yet it still informs our experience.
There’s a language-based joke that runs around the area where I’m from, commonly told among older men. “When I was growing up,” they’ll say, “I thought my name was git wood.” In other words, their youthful interactions with their fathers consisted of being commanded to bring wood inside for the stove. The meaning here, though different than Juliet’s question, points at the same truth… what we call something is a reflection of how we continually perceive that thing to be.
Sure, we can distance ourselves from the language we use. We are conscious beings and many are our powers, so we can easily toss blanket terms over the whole lot of our expression and intend something different from what we say. We can numb ourselves to the powers of our language. Yet, I’d argue that such speech is a contortion of the self and the mind. When possible, it seems better to name things straightforwardly, and with specificity.
This is not as easy as it might seem, and it’s why top-dog marketers and advertisers get paid the big bucks. In my field, it’s especially awkward. I am an acupuncturist and an herbalist, and those are the terms I tend to use to identify myself. My discipline is Chinese medicine, and within that I practice classical Chinese medicine. But I am not Chinese. I don’t even read or speak Chinese. For a connection to the classical Chinese medical texts and the medicine’s cultural and philosophical roots, I rely on written translations and verbal interpretations from my preferred lecturer, Jeffrey Yuen. For a connection to the medicine itself and its unfolding, I rely on my experiences in the treatment room.
So is it really “Chinese medicine?” Well, in a certain way, absolutely. When I hear Jeffrey talk about the meaning of a word or a concept that I casually use in the practice of Chinese medicine, I am amazed at the depth and significance of cultural references that escape me entirely, having grown up in the Appalachian mountains of Virginia. This is why dialogue and active listening are enriching and important in this (and every) practice.
But in a certain other way, it is not simply “Chinese medicine.” Like language, Chinese medicine is something that belongs to those who use it. Growing up in the Appalachian mountains of Virginia does not exclude me from practicing acupuncture and herbal medicine, as conceived of by the Chinese. It makes sense for me to keep listening and learning about the roots of this medical art. And while I’m doing that, I also recognize that as the many iterations of Chinese medicine are disseminated and take root in the US, the medicine will begin to change. Like any art, this is a dynamic engagement that shifts with time and practice.
The National Institute of Health (NIH) has a division called the National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine (NCCAM) whose raison d’etre is to investigate and understand medical practices that are outside the mainstream. The NCCAM site estimates that about 40% of Americans, “use health care approaches developed outside of mainstream Western, or conventional, medicine for specific conditions or overall well-being.” (Source.) NCCAM also asks “what’s in a name?” and defines the terms complementary, alternative, and integrative as applied to healthcare. How these terms and classifications change – indeed, how we change them – as the face of healthcare evolves in this country, is up to us all.
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This essay was first posted on The Lantern Project. It appears here with permission.
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