Critics of the tradition say that even if one recognizes the validity of TCM, its basic theoretical system has evolved very little in comparison with other forms of science and technology over the centuries. Therefore, it is hopelessly out of touch with the state of modern man and the high-paced lives we now live. And while I would counter that much like the underlying principles of nature itself, the tenants of existential truth remain constant in spite of the passage of time (as opposed to mere theory), this question is worth consideration in the ways that we apply TCM in the modern era.
This question of how TCM techniques need to be adapted to man, the modern animal, first arose in regards to the use of ShangHanLun prescriptions. Thanks to some fortuitous archeological discoveries over the last 20 years, particularly the uncovering of many medical treasures in the MaWangDui Catacombs, we now know the exact modern equivalents for common measurements of the Han dynasty. As a handful of enlightened practitioners nodded their heads in vindication, the collective jaw of the TCM world gaped in astonishment to learn that there is hard evidence to prove that one liang was equal to approximately 15 grams! By this standard the primary weapon of choice in ZhangZhongJing's herbal arsenal, GuiZhiTang, would call for a startling 45 grams of GuiZhi!
This type of a prescription represents a far cry from the slow and often subtle adjustments that TCM is widely known for in the modern day.
Yes, the patient. Contemplation of the larger signifcance of the ShangHanLun suggests that people of this era were also incredibly "clear" in the way they got ill, and by means of logical extension, very "clear" in the way they lived. By this I mean that they are free from much of the psychological muddle, and resulting physical degeneration, that we of the modern world tend to suffer from. Most of which, ironically enough, is of our own design. I am by no means saying that their lives were stress free. However, they stressed over simple matters of great importance and, in contrast to our own lives, largely out of their own control. Thus, in order to appease the external powers that be as well as the anxiety within their own hearts, cultures developed devotional practice. The simple act of prayer in whatever form is an opportunity for the individual to understand what is most important to them and in turn to give voice to these emotions in a straight-forward, well-defined manner. If you have traveled extensively in under-developed rural areas of the world and experienced this "refreshing simplicity" or "joy of poverty" first hand, you probably know exactly what I am talking about.
In contrast, a vast majority of modern men and women lead "lives of quiet desperation", to borrow Therau's insightful observation of his city-dwelling contemporaries. Our lives today are characterized by an on-going internal dialogue often over matters that in the larger scheme of things, are of little import. This continual "mental chatter" from which so many of us seem unable to escape has a profound impact on our health over time. According to NeiJing theory, the spleen is the domain of the 意 yi, or intention. This intention is the directed application of the 志 zhi, or the unfocused primal will of the human system that resides within the shadowy confines of the kidney system. In addition to its physical transformative function in directing digestion and assimilation of food, the spleen also works on a psychological level as well, drawing out the will from the recesses of the kidney system and transforming it into conscious thought. This is the meaning behind the spleen's associated emotional state of 思 si, or contemplation.
This type of contemplation is often synonymous with 忧 you in the Chinese language, a character that can be translated as worry or anxiety, a problem Western culture is only too familiar with. We often liken this unfettered mental wandering, or anxiety, to a "mental haze", a metaphor I find quite interesting in its proximity to TCM theory. Overly taxing the transformative properties of the spleen through excessive contemplation, leads to spleen yang deficiency, and in turn, qi stagnation and the rise of 湿 shi, or dampness, in the middle burner. In other words, haze.
This connection between anxiety, or stress, and symptoms of spleen deficiency such as lack of appetite, lethargy, irregular bowel movements, hyperactive dreaming, etc. is something that we can all attest to through personal experience. It is one of the most important factors in determining the general state of deficiency that most modern people find themselves living in today. While our material standards of health have improved greatly, the complications of modern life leave many of us in need of a vacation from our own minds. And to return to the original thread of this post and the applications of TCM in the modern era, I would therefore propose that the lack of clarity in the way many of us now live, and consequently, the way in which we become ill, requires a more subtle application of techniques such as ShangHan prescriptions. An initial strong blow from the herbal hatchet should be followed by some exacting scalpel work in order to clear accumulated "junk" within the energetic system. And while Fuzi and GanJiang go a long way to helping patients find relief from symptoms, unless the underlying psychological cause of anxiety is resolved, a true cure is very difficult to attain. Thus, the theory espoused by most TCM texts that illnesses associated with dampness are prone to chronic relapse.
It is therefore, vitally essential that a patient become involved in the healing process through the creation of what I refer to as "joy with no strings attached". This is the simple ability to create and maintain a feeling of pure joy in our daily lives independent of external conditions. We all know and have experienced this state of mind briefly from time to time, when, suddenly, we are confident and relaxed, unattached to the outcome of whatever the situation we find ourselves in, and for a fleeting moment, the worries of life seem to melt away into a feeling of pure calm. Then, without warning, it is gone and we find ourselves trying to recreate it through memory, recounting it to our friends and loved ones. And in doing so, only succeed in putting more and more distance between us and that moment of happiness.
The problem then, is how to create this feeling with any regularity in our daily lives, a question that I believe is a uniquely individual one that lies at the very heart of the healing process. Our role as practitioners is to encourage and foster this process, to stimulate the 君火 junhuo, of the heart system such that the spirit may flourish. If we liken this process of contemplation as an opening of the energetic system, through which mental and physical energy is slowly bled out into the world at large, then psychological sustainability requires a counterbalancing process of closing, or as Sogyal Rinpoche says in The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, one of "welcoming the mind home". When the mind is absent and at rest such as when we sleep, meditate, or become fully engrossed in physical exercise, the intention is directed inwardly, thus activating the post-natal power of the stomach/spleen system to replenish kidney essence, rather than constantly depleting it. Just like the circular energy dynamics of the natural world, we too must complete the circle of energy flow in our everyday lives or risk suffering the consequences of one-way living.
二零零八年九月廿一
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