The Empress

This semester, I'm taking my first Five Element class in preparation to earn my certificate in Five Element Acupuncture. This modality focuses more on the emotional and spiritual indications of the points. There is the idea, one that I hold dear, that if you heal the emotional causality, the body will follow and cure physical illness.

Chinese medicine sees the Heart, an organ of the Fire element, as the Emperor, or in my case, Empress of the body. All the other organs serve her, because if she's not happy, nobody is. This is also the chakra of unconditional love. I feel that most of us are on a life long quest to heal this most basic aspect of ourselves.

There is a lot more I could write about this Fire element both from a TCM and 5E perspective. Instead, I submit for you the first draft of my paper on the Heart for my 5E class.

(By the way, don't you find it interesting that the European Tarot depicts the Empress with a Heart by her side? Love synchronicity...all the heart cells beating as one...)

A year ago I was taking a class in the Nei Jing and Tao Teh Ching. At the time I was going through an ugly break up. I wrote a paper on the Pericardium and the Heart, detailing my struggle to understand, from a TCM perspective, a broken heart.

I knew there might be a follow up essay. I didn’t know what form it would take.  At the time I had to dive deep into myself to find healing.

I’m in my second year of acupuncture school—Santa Cruz instead of Portland. The sunshine here soothes my watery, anxious tendencies. My Five Element acupuncturist has diagnosed my Causative Factor as Water. That means that when I'm stressed, physically, emotionally, or spiritually, I tend toward Water element behavior in Chinese Medicine.

Now, one year later, another Valentine’s Day looms. I’m again struggling with my heart, the Empress. Valentine’s Day is often difficult for me. It falls close to the anniversary of my stepdad’s death—a man I deeply loved.

What’s different this year is how I’m choosing to approach the anniversary. Instead of succumbing to the usual heavy heart and conversations around abandonment, I’m writing him a love letter.

He taught me how to cut hearts out of red construction paper. I’ll create the hearts with messages thanking him for all the gifts he brought to my life. I am choosing, after almost 40 years of mourning, to create a ritual of gratitude and love for the brief time he was with me.

Another change this year is that I am in a different kind of relationship. I fell hard and fast in my usual fashion. Definitely a Pericardium imbalance. From the Nei Jing, I learned the Pericardium is the muse to the Heart. In Five Elements, we’ve learned the PC is a door that opens and shuts, guarding the Heart.I think the hinges on my Pericardium need some attention.

I’m a “serial bride.” I get in fast and out quick. As soon as I detect that the object of my love is no longer showing up emotionally, mentally, or physically, I’m gone.

Upon my departure, I go through the rigors of heart ache, beat myself up for making bad choices, blame my imago, cry a bucket of tears, pay my therapist overtime, and move on. The door slams shut. The Empress is no longer available.

Until the next one comes along—and the merry chase begins again. I look at friends who have been in relationships for years with the same partner and feel envy and wonder. Really, how do they do it?

I deeply value my friendships. I've been blessed with lifelong friends, but romantic relationships have always been a struggle. Water whispers doubt, insinuates betrayal, and like a storm crashing to the shore, I’m assured of impending abandonment.

Lately, my newish relationship has been very hard. In the past, I ran away from the fighting, misunderstandings, and blaming. Perhaps, abandonment is no longer the issue, but just an old, worn out story. Can fire instead dance with water to heal the vexing pull between fear and wonton desire toward their virtues of wisdom and joy?

This time around, there is a new voice among the whispers. It asks “What if he keeps showing up and actually works through this with you? Can you show up, too? Will you learn the secret all your friends seemed to be born knowing?”

Instead of running away, I’m turning to Heart. I’ve realized that if I really want to have lasting intimacy with another, I have to first show up for myself. How can Pericardium do her job if I don’t know what I want, or who I want? If I have no discernment from the outset, how is that honoring my Heart? How does that honor me?

I turn inward looking for an audience with the Empress. She can dictate to me what she truly desires. I’m falling in love from the inside out.  

Two-Year Review

It will be two years this months since I decided to become an acupuncturist. At the time I felt afraid, confused, like I was abandoning my life dream to write fiction, and very insecure about my ability to succeed in a scientific field. In retrospect, I'm so glad I took the unexplored path.

I went to the Five Branches orientation on Monday. I really enjoyed meeting my new classmates and being on campus. The rooms are light and airy. For what ever biochemical reason, that architectural and latitudinal combination makes me feel physically and emotionally energized.

I've registered for 9 classes. I already feel overwhelmed but really excited too. I'll be taking herbs, needling, tongue and pulse diagnosis, and most exciting of all, I'll begin my rounds in the clinic. I'm finally getting to the good stuff!

Most of my OCOM credits have transferred, so by next semester, I'll officially be in my second year of school. I might just see graduation by the time I'm 49.

Coinciding with all these happy, excited feelings about getting back to school, was an e-mail from a friend from my writing days. She is one of the organizers of the Willamette Writing Conference. I attended this conference twice--once as an attendant taking seminars and the following year as an instructor and to pitch agents.

My friend pitched her screenplay this past conference and got picked up! I'm so excited for her. Things are churning their slow, painful pace in Hollywood, but at least they're churning and her work may get produced.

As I was driving my scooter back from school I realized I had more energy than I'd had in months. I knew it was because I'm returning school and doing what I love. I compared that to my time as a writer.

I spent 20 years writing in all its various forms--ad copy writing, text book editing, writing software user manuals, string and free-lance newspaper reporting, screenwriting, teaching, and finally, the most tedious and soul-squashing of all, writing quasi military and government documents.

Those 20 years of odd writing jobs were really about me doing everything possible under the sun to get my fiction published. I had little success and lots of heartbreak. In the end, I walked away from fiction because I couldn't take the rejection anymore.

So here I am, much happier and not really missing the writing habit. When I walked away, I felt like a failure. I had bought into the idea of the noble writer, punching the keyboard all day in isolation, trying to translate the fantasies in my head into something readable, enjoyable, and most important to the industry, saleable! I wasted years nursing the fantasy of having bound pieces of paper, with my name on the cover, prominently displayed on those cleverly placed tables at the entrance of Barnes & Nobles everywhere!

When you're a fiction writer, it's a sort of madness. The characters become alive in your head, bothering you with their emotional baggage and convoluted life crises every waking moment. I never truly relaxed when I was writing fiction. I even, proudly, wrote for hours while on vacation. Not healthy at all.

The desire to publish crippled my happiness. Now that I've let it go, it's been a wonderful surprise to discover there are other things that I'm good at doing, and I actually enjoy doing them!

I'm still not so good at taking breaks, but I no longer have voices in my head demanding that I commit their every action to paper. I've told those characters, "Sorry, the market doesn't see the relevance of your story. Time to go into the trunk."

Now I enjoy reading fiction without comparing myself to the writer, or worse, critiquing their work! So much easier to just enjoy a story instead of analyzing it. Best of all, it's rare for someone to ask me to read their work-in-progress. Such relief.

Chinese medicine, though truly an art form when it comes to diagnosis and treatment, seems so much more straight forward and it's way more satisfying to help a patient feel better than receiving a rejection letter.

Writing hasn't left me. There are a few more books scratching to be written, but for now, it's good to put the obsession aside for something that feeds me, too. School starts Monday!

Maybe it was worth it, afterall...

Okay, I'm gonna brag a little. I apologize at the outset. Think of this as encouragement to other first year medical students out there.

If you've followed this blog, you know that my first year of med school was frickin' hard, both academically and personally. I can't believe I survived it, really.

I didn't do well winter quarter. In fact, I failed the very important points location class.  As much as I love the medicine, I very much doubted that I had what it takes to complete four years. I was feeling pretty awful about myself.


Now, I'm on break, unpacking my new house and looking forward to, with a little anxiety, starting at Five Branches University next month. I'm 46 years old, but I still get "new girl" anxiety.

In the nick of time, I just discovered that I got honors in A&P, got a B on my TCM final, and my Classics professor just sent me an e-mail about my final papers. He wrote, "...the first paragraph of your reflective paper was sheer genius...You will be a great success in Chinese medicine, but keep writing too."

It means so much to me to have finally succeeded. I feel myself open to the possibility that I might actually make it through the program, pass the boards, and become a practitioner. There were some very dark moments of doubt this past year. These little things, the grades and positive comments from teachers, are beams of light shining into the darkness. I could weep with relief.

Yesterday, I met my friend Linda at the Cantor Art Museum on the Stanford University Campus. I love Rodin and it was nice to get up close and personal to The Gates of Hell. You can't do that at the Musee d'Orsey in Paris. Tsk-tsk, non!

Linda is a biologist, so it was fun to marvel over the exaggerated muscles and impossible poses. I never thought about how much learning anatomy would enhance my love of art.

Before Linda arrived, I watched a group of elderly photographers set up their crane-legged tripods and lens-heavy cameras. A Chinese woman, big black camera slung around her neck, approached me and asked where the toilets were. I pointed into the museum. When she returned she sat next to me and we talked. Her name was Wai and she is 71 years old.

She told me that she had come from China 30 years ago to practice dentistry. She told me of the discrimination that prevented her from opening a practice here. I was shocked. Growing up in the South, seeing up close and personal how badly the white culture could treat African Americans, I believed that it was different in the rest of the country--especially California. As she talked, I again felt that same burning shame about the color of my skin and my fellow white's sick inclination to keep things pure--what ever the hell that means.

She rubbed my arm and said, "You'll do well in Chinese medicine because of this."

I asked her why. She told me that the Chinese love Americans, that I would never experience the same racism there that she had here. She also told me that I would have a wonderful and prosperous practice. Wai said she could tell because of the way I looked at her and listened.

That made me feel warm and fuzzy all over. Then she warned, "If you don't have a husband by the time you go to China, you will be courted there. The Chinese doctors will fall in love with you."

My friend Linda confirmed much of what Wai said about the culture. Linda's parents are from Japan. After Wai left, Linda and I giggled about the prediction of finding a husband. We both have a huge crush on Chow Yun Fat. I wonder how he'd look in a white jacket...

Suddenly, I'm looking forward to my studies, again.

It hurts right here if I cough while Mercury conjuncts Pluto

A few weeks before school ended, I noticed a new trend in my life. Every now and then when I tell someone that I'm studying Chinese medicine, the person gives me a list of symptoms then asks if I know what the problem might be.

Once I get past the deer staring into the headlights sensation, I panic. This question brings up a lot of issues for me. I've only studied for one year, folks! I have only a vague idea, if any, of what might be wrong with you. I'm not, in anyway, in a position to be giving medical advice. And, worry of worries, what if I give you the wrong advice. Yikes!

I asked two different professors how to handle this. I got a very vague, answer-me-with-a-question from one teacher, and an impatient, not-too-helpful answer from another instructor.

Just because the universe likes to really drive issues home for me, I have a new acquaintance who always wants medical advice. I am truly at a loss with her. It makes me wonder why Anatomy and Physiology isn't required for everyone.

She's a wonderful person, but her medical knowledge is zip. Not a problem except she spends a lot of our time together talking about her latest self-diagnosis. I won't go into detail because of HIPPA, ethics, and because most of what she says doesn't make much sense.

I've only completed one year of medical school, but I can say this person's ideas of how the body works and her dependence on the latest new age cure is really disturbing. I listen patiently and try to make sense of her nonsense. I ask a few clinical questions based on what little I know to try to help. Mostly I end up feeling anxious and driven to get her to a competent practitioner and advocate for her.

I won't be her advocate because I know I'll be pulled into a co-dependent situation that I don't have the time or patience for. She isn't experiencing anything life threatening. I would definitely step up if she was.

I realize that she makes me uncomfortable in part because I use Reiki to help people. I often wonder how naive and full of nonsense I've sounded when talking to people about this practice. Going to Acupuncture school has done much to boost my confidence, but I have a long way to go.

In contrast, I spent the next day with another new friend who is a biologist and does research studies for pharmaceutical companies. It was wonderful talking shop with her. She rounded out my limited knowledge about how medical studies are conducted--the protocols, limitations, and the researcher/patient relationships.

Sometimes, I worry that I'll never know enough for my patients. After spending time with my biologist friend, the inner critic came online, "You should have taken more biomed courses! You won't know what you're doing! One semester of cellular biology isn't enough!"

I smacked that voice of guilt and hysteria down by driving by my new school, Five Branches. I began to feel excited about getting back to my studies. To boost my confidence a little more, I looked at my Anatomy and Physiology grades one more time. Those A's sure feel good.

Maybe one day, I'll not only be a great practitioner, I'll know how to interpret new age mumbo-jumbo into a diagnosis.

Qigong Final

This is my car, Kermit. In the back is a Kermit the Frog in the "Assurance and Protection" mudra from 1,000 Hands Buddha. I believe that Kermit the Frog protects me and my car while the rest of the world believes he is just waving "hello."

 

This is the painting I did for my qigong final. I wanted to depict all the ways I've used movement in my life to reach the divine. You may not believe that a child ballerina/former stripper/current bellydancer/yogini/qigong practitioner has used all these forms to connect to divinity. I can assure you, movement meditation is prayer, whether you're doing it in a temple or a club of ill repute.

Painting for me is a really tough thing. My father is an artist--a pretty talented painter in his own right. But maybe because of the divorce, or other reasons I'll never know, he never taught my brothers and I how to paint.

So every time I paint something, a series of things happen:

1. I'm afraid of screwing up.
2. I'm a bit surprised that I know what to do.
3. I feel deeply blocked emotions rise to the surface, but because painting takes me to a meditative place, it's all good.
4. I'm usually quite surprised that the painting turns out much as I'd imagined it.
5. I thank my father for my artistic genes.

As I was painting this, my hands heated up and I knew that Reiki was on and healing was happening. There was no intention for the healing, only focus on the colors and images.

Losing myself in painting is just one more thing to be thankful for in my qigong practice...

Inanna, Heart, and Pericardium Go for a Long Dark Walk…

This is a paper I'm submitting for my Bridging Classics class:

    

This paper has been writing itself in my head since we began the lecture on the heart. In one of life’s perfect ironies, we study the heart in Bridging Classics, A&P, Living Anatomy, and TCM Theory, as I mend my broken heart.

I sit on the edge of my seat while Regina details how blood moves, like the never-ending infinity symbol, through the heart and lungs. Perhaps she knows the answer. When we drew, in bright magic markers, the placement of the heart on the body of our lab partners, I thought enlightenment would shine at me from the pink and green lines on my partner’s body. When Dr. Xue wrote the formulas and acupuncture points, I thought he might be secreting to me the cure for a broken heart. I can’t decide if the pain is more like Heart Yin Deficiency or Heart Blood Deficiency.

In a way, OCOM itself has given me this heartbreak as it was a fellow student who pursued my now ex-boyfriend. This began, fittingly enough, on Valentine’s Day when she boldly announced to me that he would be hers. It has been an incredibly difficult two-quarter period as I move through grief, rage, confusion, and betrayal.

The song by Sinead O’Connor, “Thank You for Hearing Me,” has the lyrics;

Thank you for breaking my heart

Thank you for tearing me apart

Now I’ve a strong, strong heart

Thank you for breaking my heart

If the heart is broken, or actually, opened, it is strengthened to receive and give more love. The pericardium as both protector and muse, grows stronger, wiser, and more discerning for the heart with each break/opening and healing.

As I mend, the joy of qigong moves through me. I delight in my new kitten, Blue Bai Wu (apologies to Roy Orbison), connect more fully to my cranky cat, Samantha, and fall more deeply in love with my old, arthritic dog, Kieran/Kirin (how fitting that Dog is the animal of Pericardium—protector and bringer of joy).

My body feels exhilaration as I transition my spastic leg muscles and asthmatic lungs from walking a 3-mile course into running it. I love and appreciate my friends more deeply as they comfort me with laughter, dancing, and study dates. I open to the lessons my clients teach me and feel awe for them and their healing process. I cling to gratitude because some days, that’s all I have and it is enough.

As I fall more deeply in love with myself, I use this time as a way to delve more deeply into my own blocked heart. Pericardium brings me closer to self-love, which has already taught me is the cure for multiple sclerosis. What else will this new depth of discovery cure? Mortality?

I still have nightmares as my heart transforms this pain. The Shen of the Heart working while I work with my brilliant therapist. He coaches me deeper into the darker spaces of self, bringing my heart the light it craves. I think of Inanna shedding her worldly goods to go deeper underground to steal the Underworld from her sister, Ereshkigal, only to finally be killed and hung on a hook to rot. It is then up to Ereshkigal to birth the rivers and the harvest.

My heart listens, waiting for the pearl of wisdom that will tell it how to stay open and in love without being crushed by terror. I remember the flies who whispered the secret words to bring Inanna back to life. I listen and I wait.

I've decided that the first year of grad school has been about learning how to be a grad student. I made a few mistakes along the way, but with the last quarter of the year approaching midterms, I've finally learned some valuable Elyn lessons:

1. I'm 46 years old. I've had some shiny moments that I'm quite proud of. If you want me to write a short story, novel, technical document, or film script, I can pound out a pretty decent first draft, and I can teach you how to do it, too. Being a beginner at something has been very hard. Ego, take a bow.

2. Being past child bearing age implies that I don't have to keep up with those who are half my age. In the beginning I couldn't understand where my classmates found the energy to be in the accelerated classes, work, party, date, and still do well on quizzes and exams. Then, with no small amount of horror, I realized that I was old enough to have given birth to most of my fellow students. Sobering.

3. With age comes confidence (or exhaustion from sludging through a lifetime of BS). There were some difficult social situations that I quickly and firmly extracted myself from. At a younger age, I would have taken a lead role in the soap opera just because I was raised to be co-dependent that way. Thank the Gods for therapy and time.


4. Relationships. I was told repeatedly that most romantic relationships do not survive grad school. In anticipation of this, the man I was with when I applied for school broke up with me. The next guy who came along couldn't hang either.

Grad school demands that you give it your complete focus. There is no energy for doing all the work that needs to be done in a loving, mature relationship. I've come to doubt whether I'll get involved with anyone seriously until after I graduate.

If I do, it's going to have to be someone who either has done what I'm doing and doesn't mind being a doormat, or was born that way (see co-dependent issue above).

In the mean time, I'm re-evaluating my, ah, position on never engaging in the casual hook up...



5. Perhaps the most difficult lesson to learn is how to actually learn. The truth is I'm an artist/intuitive/empath/clairvoyant. Linear thinking is something I can do, but not for sustained amounts of time.

I believed that because I was going into medicine, I had to turn off my intuition and only use the left side of my brain. I tried paying attention with just my thinking brain and memorize everything by rote. Despite hours and hours of studying, I didn't do so well on exams. It made me miserable.

My therapist (I highly recommend having one if you're going to med school--he or she can talk you out of it if nothing else.) convinced me to do what I do best. Today was my first time trying.

 
Instead of leaning forward in my seat and furiously taking notes trying to grok everything coming out of the professor's mouth, I sat back. I let my mind wander now and then. I took notes, doodled, enjoyed sun when it made its fickle appearance through the window.

Then it happened. The answers to the professor's questions came quickly and easily. I was letting my mind work in the strange way that it does--just absorbing information rather than chasing it down. 

In the last few weeks of my first year, I've finally remembered how to learn. Wonder what I'll learn next year...

Battle Weary

I'm a huge fan of Jeanne d'Arc. I like to believe that I get the whole hearing voices, charging into battle, betrayal by my king, and being burned at the stake by people with a history of bad cuisine.

Besides, she was really into fleur de lis'

I also have a bit of a loud mouthed warrior in me. Kind of a super-hero wannabe gene. I see or hear injustice and I just gotta go into a tussle. Over the years, I've learned to choose my battles. So, maybe I'm a little smarter and a little less headstrong. Maybe.

My battle of choice, now? Why defending Traditional Chinese Medicine to another race of people with a history of bad cuisine (okay, I'm thinking McDonald's here).

Yesterday, I read a blog entry in the Huffpost: Alternative and Complementary Treatments for Cancer

In the article, Dr. Nowinski talks about the shifting landscape of grief--specifically the kind of grief you experience when you or a loved one is diagnosed with terminal cancer. He said that the word, "terminal" has taken on a new meaning as more and more people who receive this diagnosis may live for months, years, or even decades longer than earlier generations who had similar cancer diagnoses.

Dr. Nowinski, a clinical psychologist, touted acupuncture and gave links to studies supporting the efficacy of using acupuncture during chemotherapy treatments.

Since reading the article, I've been commenting like crazy trying to dispute, convince, and soothe the naysayers. In other words I've been going round with ignorant fools who can't bother to read a study before slamming acupuncture.

Today, I went back to the comments section of the article. I provided links for a few more CAM deniers. I tried to rally, get steamed up, pick up the sword, but then, you know, I just felt overwhelmed against the great tide of ignorance. I got tired. 

I know that my journey as an acupuncture student and later when I'm a licensed acupuncturist will have to include heavy doses of education and patience. Sometimes though, I just wish I had a tougher suit of armor...

Is there a treatment for thin skin besides age and experience? Let me know...

A Rambling Post

It's been almost three months since I last blogged. It's hard to believe that much time has gone by.

The last few weeks of my first quarter ended with a bang. Literally. After taking my written points test, I totaled my 2000 Honda Civic. It was the car that I had bought after my car in New Orleans drowned. 

I put a lot of work and money into it the summer before school started so that it would last through my years as a poor graduate student.

When the airbags blew, the driver bag hit my right hand and sprained the ring finger, little finger, palm and wrist. It made taking the rest of my finals quite a challenge. It's still stiff and swells up painfully after lots of note taking. It does get better every week.

I went to New Orleans for break and basically collapsed while I was there. The bright Caribbean sun, floral scented air, live music, and amazing food revived me. I was so grateful to be back in my beloved city.

Room with a View

The View

Preservation Hall, Christmas Eve 2010

I returned rejuvenated and ready to take on my second quarter. I was guided to teach, for free, the Reiki I and II classes to my fellow students. It's gone amazingly well. Early in the month, on Saturday afternoon, we meet to exchange Reiki. The last Saturday of the month, I teach the Reiki class. This quarter I have 13 students. I already have 8 students signed up for next quarter.

It's such a joy to share this modality. I believe it will enhance everyone's ability to feel Qi and help them survive their next three to four years as grad students. With Reiki, you first learn to practice on yourself. Brilliant.

I bought a new car because my student loan debt just wasn't high enough. But it's cute and it goes, "Zoom-zoom!"

Kermit

The irony of going to medical school is that it's very stressful, yet the number one killer is stress. I read a great article in Wired magazine that those of us who choose stress (like going to grad school, or taking a promotion) have an advantage over those who have little or no control over the stress in their lives (low paying job with no power). That's not very comforting in the midst of test taking, I gotta say.

This week has been especially hard for me. Today is the 37th anniversary of my stepfather's death. "Hmmm," you might say, "aren't you over it already?"

What I know of death is that the pain never goes away, it only gets easier to live with. Most years the anniversary comes along and I'm just mildly grumpy. But every now and then, a hard one hits. Like this year.

I find that with the stress of being in school, of studying every single day, that there are some emotional events that grow to monsterous sizes. Other stresses that would normally bother me, don't because I simply don't have time to be upset when a test is looming.

This year, I very much miss my stepdad, Don. I feel raw, am having crying jags, and am just not into much of anything. I decided that I would skip class and have a mental health day. I don't get much time to myself or any time off. Today is it.

The sun has broken through the fog. I'm taking Kieran for a very long walk. See you all on the other side...

A New Intimacy

Because I used to be a stripper, I sometimes think I know a lot about intimacy. I became expert at cultivating the dance of longing, the tease without release. I can go on at length about how those who are frequent clientele and those of us who've worked in the sex industry have intimacy issues. The flirt is easier than the reality of being close to someone.

I also like to believe that I've learned from and perhaps worked through my own body politics, hang ups, and fetishes. I'm all about live and let live.

Every now and then during my days working the pole, I'd cultivate a regular or two who were doctors. They got a certain kick out of telling me the Latin names of the different body parts I was exposing, hiding, or contorting on the stage. I'd smile at their cleverness, while inside, I didn't really care how the muscles of my arms and hands worked to swing me around the pole. It was all, well, Latin.

Now that I'm learning all those Latin names myself, seeing how all the parts move and work together, discovering bones in my body that I never knew existed, I finally get it. We are miracles! Really, just the way the muscles all work together to flex and articulate our hands, how the metacarpals and phalanges all work together to help me type these words, is just amazing.

I'm palpating my classmates and myself to find bones, muscles, tendons, and nerves. The funny bone? It's not funny, and it's not a bone. It's the ulnar nerve.

I'm re-evaluating those former clients who thought they were seducing me with their big, clever doctor words. I'm thinking about the me I was then, just trying to earn some bucks to pay for my writing habit and an MFA in creative writing.

I had already put myself in a box, unable to understand their language of intimacy, their own discovery of the miracle that lies beneath our skin. Turns out it was kind of sexy after all.

Simply Shelly

It took awhile for me to get my groove back. My leg didn't really begin to feel better until around Sunday, but by then, I'd received some bad news.

About a year ago, I began seeing a new Reiki client. Her name was Shelly. We worked together for a few months before I made the move to Portland. After my move from Salem, I sent her distance Reiki. It became increasingly difficult to find out what was going on with her after my move.

It's hard to genuinely describe this complex, stubborn, and infectiously positive woman. Sometimes she made me crazy because I felt she needed to be more open to Western medicine in her healthcare. On the other hand, her constant positive attitude and belief in the beauty and mystery of life was deeply inspirational.

When I found out that she had passed, I discovered that underneath the sadness was the gnawing guilt that I hadn't done enough for Shelly. The last time I'd sent her a full distance Reiki treatment was two weeks before school started. Things didn't look good when I worked on her. (A side note, often when I do Reiki, whether in person or distance, I "see" things going on in the person's body or energy field). I e-mailed her. She didn't respond.

About a week into school, she e-mailed to request more distance Reiki. I continued to send it once in awhile, but I was too caught up in school to really send more than a little burst here and there. I had no idea she was getting so much worse.

Shelly passed away last week. I found out through Facebook. In one of those perfect coincidences, I was to be in Salem during her wake. I was there only long enough to talk to her brother, David. He was warm, wonderful, and seemed to intuit exactly what to say to make me feel better.

He let me know that my work with Shelly meant a lot to her--that she spoke highly of me. I told him that I wished I'd been with her at the end, to help ease her passage. He was very kind and told me that he sensed my work with her through out the year had helped her at the end. It was very comforting to hear and dissipated the gray cloud hanging over me.


I thought about how as an acupuncturist, I will probably lose patients now and then. I don't know if it gets easier, or if we learn how to let go and let God. I know this was Shelly's path, but it's still difficult for me not to argue with God, or with Shelly.

I think her spirit and her inspiration will be with me for the rest of my life. I hope that all I learned from her will help me be a better practitioner.

Right now in school, it's like we're just learning the alphabet as our teachers take us through point locations, muscles and bones, and organ systems. Later, we'll learn to write sentences, and eventually, before we graduate, I hope we'll know how to create a full story of what's going on our patients' bodies.

I've already seen glimpses of our teachers trying to prepare us for the emotional and spiritual aspects of healing. I sometimes fear that in this regard, I'll never know enough.

Losing My Religion

I've had a rough couple of days. I've written about the academic ups and downs of being an acupuncture student, but I haven't written about the personal ones.

To be honest, one of the reasons I was drawn to acupuncture was because of my frustration with Western medicine. I think that is probably the number one reason most people seek out CAM, or Complimentary and Alternative Medicine.

Strangely enough, my very first acupuncture appointment, about 11 years ago, was horrific. An ancient practitioner, who barely spoke English, cascaded my back with needles. He then attached little diodes so that minute electrical currents could run through the needles giving the Qi a little extra stimulation. It was so excruciatingly painful that I sobbed, loudly. The currents ran painful spasms all through my body. Despite my loud crying, no one came to the room or ever checked on me. I had never had acupuncture before so I had no idea that this was not within normal protocol.

When an attendant finally came to take out the needles, I asked if it was supposed to hurt that much. She seemed embarrassed and nodded silently. I limped from the room, my face red and swollen from crying. I never saw the practitioner again.

Later, still wanting to find relief from the chronic pain I had, I did more research about acupuncture, read some studies from the NIH, and got recommendations. I went to another acupuncturist, Dr. Kim. I told him about my first experience and he said he'd heard stories but promised to not use electro-acupuncture on me. It was a much more pleasant experience. It didn't alleviate my pain as much as I'd hoped, but Dr. Kim did tell me that there was something wrong with my nervous system and that I should get an MRI. That was the beginning of finally getting a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis.

Here I am, eleven years later, learning how to become an acupuncturist myself. I've had lots of negative experiences in Western medicine. And mostly, positive experiences with Naturopathy and Chinese medicine.

Most Westerners seem attracted to CAM modalities because Naturopathy and Chinese medicine treat the patient as a whole person, linking together all the symptoms into a whole treatment plan--not just looking at a single symptom as separate from all the others.

I'll be honest, I've put Chinese medicine on a pedestal. This past weekend, the pedestal got knocked out from under me. It was a tough lesson.

On Sunday, I went to a special clinic at the school for people with auto-immune illnesses. I was needled for the spasticity in my right leg. When I left the clinic, I felt great. As soon as I got home and tried to sit down, it felt as if a knife was tearing into my hip and outer thigh. It was excruciating. I called the clinic and went back in.

After all was said and done, I spent Sunday evening on the couch, alternately icing and heating my hip and leg. I took a double dose of my muscle relaxer and tried to study. Simmering under the fog of drugs and dull pain, my anger and disappointment grew.  It was hard to focus on the TCM theory book.

I was no longer sure that acupuncture was for me. Something had gone wrong during the treatment and now I was in a lot of pain. I wanted to believe that I was experiencing a healing crisis and that within a day or two, my leg would be in great shape.

On Monday, the sharp pain was gone and I was left with just a stiff, aching leg. Someone from the clinic called to check on me. It did not go well. I couldn't understand much of what she said because of background noise. What I did hear was, "you should have told us you were sensitive..."

I responded that it's in my notes that I'm sensitive and I mentioned it during the palpation part of the exam. I was in pain, I was angry, and probably worst of all, I was losing faith in this medicine that I've dedicated my life to.

To hear a practitioner say, from my perspective, that it was my fault the treatment had gone badly infuriated me. I try very hard to advocate for myself. Western medicine taught me that. I encourage others all the time to advocate for themselves in managing their health.

Today, my leg is better. Just a little stiffness, achiness, and footdrop, but I'm walking much, much better. I've talked to others at school, including the acupuncturist who normally treats me. It seems the needles were left in too long for my ability to tolerate them. It won't happen again, because I'll be much, much more vocal than I've been in the past.


The experience also left me terrified about the possibility of one day hurting one of my patients. All I can do is remain aware and sensitive. I hope we get the training in our program to help us deal with issues like mine when they come up.

Despite my meltdown yesterday, I'm staying in school. I try to believe that all I've been through with MS will make me a better practitioner. It's gifted me in so many other ways, perhaps becoming a competent healer will be the best gift of all.

Mindfulness

I'd like to take this moment to plug my classmate, Lydia's blog, Reflections of an Oriental Medicine Student.

She's also writing about her experience as a TCM student. She gets all the credit for informing us about H.R. 646.

Go, Lydia!

Back to our regularly scheduled blog: On the roller coaster that is school, this week has been great! I studied like a mad woman and aced my practical exam in Living Anatomy. I was nauseous when I went into the room for the test. It went so much better than I expected.

It began simply enough. "Where is the sternoclavicular joint?"

Easy!

Then it got it a little harder from there, but it was over pretty quickly. Great relief!

I also aced my pericardium and heart points quizzes this week. I'm a very happy woman. It seems so up and down, one week I fail a quiz and I feel devastated, the next week I make a few A's and I'm at the top of the world.  Will I get to the point where I'm not so deeply affected by letter grades?

After the practical exam, I still had too much adrenalin running through me. I was still feeling very anxious even though I knew I'd passed. It was a gorgeous day. I came home, put Kieran into the car, and we drove to the 1,000 acre park. The sky was crystal blue clear, there was a strong wind blowing high in the trees, and we found a new trail through some woods. It was heavenly. The perfect way to end a really stressful couple of days.

The following day in Research class, the professor, Ryan Milley,  led us on a mindful meditation before beginning the lecture. It's really wonderful to begin a class with a few minutes of meditation. We've been looking at published studies on acupuncture and other CAM modalities. We're learning how to read scientific studies, critique them, and use them to support our practice.

What's interesting is that in some of the studies, the acupuncturist tells some of the subjects that there is going to be a good outcome from the treatment. It's been proven that if the patient gets this little positive plug from his acupuncturist, the results are more positive than for those who get a practitioner with a flat affect who gives very little explanation of the treatment. On the upside is that those who receive both kinds of treatments do better than those who receive no acupuncture at all.

Establishing mindfulness in us while we're still first year students teaches us experientially how much we can benefit ourselves and our future patients. By being mindful and present with patients, we help them create a better outcome from their treatments. 

I hope that mindfulness will also get me to a place where the highs and lows of my academic career don't take me on such an emotional roller coaster ride. I believe meditation and Qigong will continue teaching me balance.


I know for certain we can rewire our brains. My healing path has proven that. We have the power within us to accomplish so much. It all starts with a few quiet moments, some deep easy breathing, and a focus inward away from the busy bee-hive mind. If you're truly present, it makes the ride so much more manageable.

Namaste

Mama said there'd be days like this

I got my last Living Anatomy quiz back, today. I didn't do well, not well at all. I knew I didn't do great, but a total fail? Wasn't expecting that.

I wanted to run home, hide in my room, and cry. I've had lots of moments like that in the past few weeks--I want to scrunch up my face and weep. Instead, I pulled up my big girl panties, stepped out of the tide of despair pulling on my ankles, and returned to class.

I really like TCM theory, so it was easy to fall into the lecture and learn.

I'm a nervous test-taker. I learned all kinds of tricks to calm down, focus, and do okay on tests way back as an undergrad. But something strange happened on my way to medical school. I forgot those skills and now, in a rush of throat-clenching anxiety, I speed through my tests, miss questions, and don't read as carefully as I should.

As an undergrad, I accepted that I wasn't a good test taker. I made up for it by being a good writer. You want a paper, an essay, how about a presentation? I can do that and usually do it well. But multiple choice? Fill in the blank? True or False? The black and white, the obvious, escapes me.  Lately, more so than usual.

After TCM Theory, I went to Qigong class. I love Qigong. It has turned into a movement meditation that soothes my anxiety and quiets the voices of doom. It seems to be a natural extension of Reiki. The practice lives in my body and emotions. I can't yet put words to the experience. I want to stay in the powerful and gentle flow. The words will come later.

So with the yang comes the yin, with the fear comes the release and peace. Despite my anxiety and doubt, my heart continues to feel joy learning this medicine. Some days, that's all the assurance I get.

A link to the Shirells singing "Mama said..."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQlImg2bm28&feature=related

Acupuncture Goes Mainstream

Our classmate Lydia forwarded a notice to us all about H.R. 646, The Federal Acupuncture Coverage Act of 2009.


It means that Social Security will cover many acupuncture treatments under the Medicare Program. That is just huge. If Medicare is going to cover acupuncture, then the insurance companies will have to follow suit. There are some wonderful comments on the site about the effectiveness of acupuncture, many written by MDs.

Please go and cast your vote for passing this bill. So far TCM is winning!

The Cure for Mean Girl Syndrome

It's a human need to belong to a group. We have groups for every category of human interaction: work, family, religious, political, and school. We all, whether introverted, extroverted, or somewhere in between, find ways to connect with other human beings. It's part of our survival. We're hard-wired for it.

Even the misanthrope would be lost without a group to project his or her abhorrence upon. At the very basic, groups help us to survive, and at the most, they support our growth as human beings moving through this lifetime.

I have what my best-friend calls, "new girl syndrome." We moved a lot when I was growing up. It was never easy being the new girl at school. When ever I get into a new social group, I feel a lot of anxiety. In talking to others, I've found that a lot of people feel this way.

The first week or so at OCOM, we were all cautious with one another, friendly, accepting. It felt as if there was a giant cloud of new girl syndrome floating over our 74 person, male and female, class.

Now that a few weeks have passed and we've gone through the rigors of our first few tests together, and have had to partially disrobe and palpate one another--we're still navigating the tricky waters of friendship and classmate interaction.

Though we've overcome normal social boundaries by groping one another's muscles and bones, or sticking little colored dots on each other's acupuncture points until we look like human dot candy, we're still all so new to each other that real friendships may only just be starting.

What I've noticed is that even though we've grown more comfortable with one another, there don't seem to be any cliques forming. I haven't heard a shred of gossip about any fellow classmates. There are certainly people who have more things in common and gravitate toward one another, but never at the exclusion of others.

I think about the movie, "Mean Girls." When I watched that movie, some of it felt true, but mostly, it fell short of capturing the incredible cruelty that can destroy an adolescent's self esteem. Lately, we've see that truth in the recent headlines about bullied teenagers killing themselves.

I don't expect anything like that will happen with our class. I mean, we're all too self-actualized, right?

Honestly, I feel optimistic about us as a group. I can't say I've ever felt more welcomed and energized by a new social/school group before. We all want each other to succeed. If there is any competition, it seems to be internalized. I know when I'm feeling competitive, I have to look at my own insecurities and change my definition of success.

I like believing it's because as a group, most of us have chosen a profession where we want to put wholeness of body, mind, and spirit into practice. We're walking the walk.

Maybe all it takes to cure new girl syndrome is choosing a path of wholeness and staying on it.

Relief

I'd been having a lot of trouble getting my web site uploaded. It was really, really stressing me out. I took a web design class about two years ago, but we didn't really work with Dreamweaver, my web design tool, as much as we did with outdated software. When I'm in Dreamweaver, I'm usually at a great disadvantage, trying to guess my way through it.

It meant a lot to me to take the web design class so I would be able to have more control over my small Reiki business and how I presented myself to potential and current clients. I'll never be a professional web designer, but I know enough to keep my business going and to talk to people who know more than I do--in other words, I ask for professional help and gladly pay for it when my business needs it.

I'm writing about this because this has been an undercurrent of anxiety for me as I begin my career as an OCOM student. I've wanted to continue working with clients, but not at the expense of my schooling. It's been a balancing act and the web site updates felt like a necessary part of smoothing out the transition for me and my clients.

I know all of this work on my Reiki business will someday translate into how I run my acupuncture business. I think our Community Outreach teacher, Jason Stein, said that running a business is like having a relationship. You have to put as much work into it as you would with a spouse, child, or friend.

I really want to thank my dear friend, David Martin. He runs NolaFlash in New Orleans. He hosts my site and generously and kindly talks me through my mishaps with web snafus. I honestly don't know what I'd do without him.

I guess the lesson is that we're all training to become medical professionals. We'd hope that our patients would come to us with their ailments before sticking themselves with needles, or concocting their own herbs. I think, if our businesses is ailing, or needs a little boost, it's necessary to call in professionals. Wouldn't you do that for the other relationships in your life?

The beauty of irony

This morning, I skipped going to yoga to make a client call. Since my Reiki article was published I've been hearing from people all over the United States looking for treatments or just insights into their own quest for wholeness and health.

As I've mentioned, Uma Carter is the person leading our wonderful Qigong and yoga class at school. She's a great teacher and it really pained me, literally and figuratively, to miss her class this morning. But, I had a new client, also named Uma, who had left a message for me a week ago.

Now that my respectful touch and community outreach classes are over, it's time to figure out how to fit clients back into my schedule. I called Uma in Virginia and we talked about her husband's recovery from a heart attack. His neurologist is also a licensed acupuncturist and uses acupuncture in his treatments for Uma's husband's tremors.

I encouraged Uma to find a Reiki practitioner in her area and to start getting treatments. She was really enthusiastic, warm, and assertive about being healthy. Uma wants to become a Reiki practitioner herself, so she's on the right path.

She told me that while she was on chemo 8 years ago for breast cancer, that she kept up with her daily yoga practice. I told her that yoga has also helped me a lot and I felt I couldn't live without it. Uma is from India and I thought about all the connections between India, China, and the west and how all of us are searching for wholeness.

Now that I've given some guidance to Uma of Virginia, I'll do some yoga here at home before class starts. My achy body will be so happy.

Have a great day, everyone!

Time, time, time

I've just spent three hours updating my web site. I still have a few hours more of work to go. One of the anxieties that has been riding my back like an monkey with halitosis is how I've had to neglect my business and my clients since beginning school.

I had a grand plan this summer; I would see as many clients as possible, teach a lot of Reiki and clairvoyant classes, and get my web site updated with all kinds of new gadgets and features for the user.

I hired a business consultant, Erin Donely, who helps people with new-agish type businesses really get focused. She was truly brilliant, insightful, and I know her guidance will help when the day comes to create my acupuncture business.

I hired a web designer to smooth out the kinks in my web site and eliminate the "fat" code. Drew Soske did a marvelous job.

The classes I taught went really well. Clients seemed happy. Many were okay with the idea that I was going to have to disappear for a month to get acclimated to school. Well, it's October 2nd and the changes to the web site still aren't posted. Homework and studying have forced me to neglect client calls and e-mails.

And, I have three tests to study for this weekend. I feel as if I've been carrying a tray full of loaded dishes and the chef keeps piling on more. Spaghetti is about to crash in a fantastic tomato mess on the floor and walls. How do I take care of my clients and still do well in school?

I'm getting to the point where I have little routines and feel like I can manage all my classes. But when I think of taking out an hour and a half to talk to a client, anxiety fills my chest and a tight ache creeps up my back, into my neck, and ends as a nasty head ache.

Thing is, I love working with my clients. There is so much joy in connecting with another human in an emotional and psychic space. I feel as if I can take this weird ability to "see" things and use it like a viewing screen to "show" clients how to clear their path toward wholeness and happiness. To feel as if I can't even manage one or two client calls a week fills me with dread and guilt.


But, I love school, too! It's overwhelming, plunges me into moments of panic, but I really do love what I'm learning and how it all fits together. The more I study Chinese medicine, the more the elegance shines through.

Qi gong, yoga, and meditation help. Laughing with friends helps. Playing with my dog and cat helps. And getting just a little bit more accomplished each day feels great. Breathe...

Yoga and Qi Gong with Uma!

My classmate, Uma, has put together a free yoga class for everyone on campus. We'll also be doing Qi Gong at the beginning of the sessions.

From Uma:
Monday - yoga/movement/qigong from 11:30 to 12:50 in room 3
Wednesday - 2:40-4  in room 3
Friday - 10am to 11:20 in the Annex

Starts Wednesday the 29th but we won't be meeting the 31st (this Friday). Also, we decided to try to do Qigong for the first 20 minutes of each class (fulfilling the 60 minutes a week outside of class). Hope to see you all and please pass along the word.

Big thanks to Uma for putting this together.

This flu thing was really knocking it out of me. I made an appointment at the clinic yesterday. When the needles went in, it really hurt in some spots. The qi was definitely blocked. But then, my chest and sinuses opened up and I took a deep breath. I hadn't realized how much I hadn't been breathing. No wonder I was exhausted.

They also gave me some granules (ground herbs) to drink 4 to 5 times a day. I am feeling much, much better. It's so good to be so well taken care of.

I'm looking forward to points class today. Reading the text has left me really confused. I have to stop reading at certain points, take a deep breath, and remind myself that it will all make sense eventually. I learn best through doing. Today we'll actually find the points on one another. Hopefully, something will click in my head.

That click moment happened yesterday in Qi Gong. I know that doing a Qi Gong practice really benefits you but I didn't understand on a body level how it applied to medicine. I was able to stay in class for a half hour yesterday before my clinic appointment. Just that little time in class helped me to feel better than I'd felt all day.

I felt an aha! moment in my body. If I do this practice, I'll stay healthier, more focused, and grounded. Nice.