Herbal Medicine
My Memory of March, 2020
I can easily recall the entire week three years ago, leading up to the conspicuously dated, Friday, the 13th. What I was doing, what I was thinking, expecting, and not expecting, which of course is precisely what was to follow.
My wife had expressed concern about this new viral plague in China for weeks, but if I’m being honest I wrote it off as just another unfortunate illness of the east, a la the previous SARS virus of 2011, and would not cross the pond enough to impact us. Nevertheless, I wanted to honor her fear, so on eight day’s notice we canceled our honeymoon plans (in Bali), which included a layover in Hong Kong, and instead booked two awesome weeks driving up the coast of California.
The week after we returned I had a weekend Chinese Medicine seminar in Chicago. Signs and whispers of this becoming a part of our lives grew louder and more frequent. Non-Asian people were wearing masks on the plane, and I’ll never forget a friend in our seminar sharing an article with me on one of our breaks, written by an American acupuncturist in China, to paraphrase: Make no mistake about it. You will know someone who dies from this virus.
I remember not knowing what to make of it, nor how to digest such a bold, ominous prediction. My psychological id wished to err on the side of skepticism, to proceed about my educational, sociable day, and imagine that the writer was some overly dramatic kook, otherwise at least just incorrect. But the rest of the article, her writing and cadence, made her rational intellect all too apparent. That coupled with the fact that she was one of us—a western acupuncturist—forced me to at least dignify her proclamation. Fortunately, I did not lose any loved ones, though as of today I have known about five people who died from Covid-19 complications, plus countless more with long Covid conditions.
On the morning of March 12th my wife, brother, and I were to meet at the then relatively new Q train stop on East 86th Street to be with my mother for a procedure she was having done at Weil-Cornell Hospital. The vibe in the city had been growing increasingly more tense with every day in the week. More masks were popping up on the train, a first case had been reported in New Rochelle, and I’ll never forget the look a young girl sitting across from me shot me when an apparently homeless man next to her coughed aloud. What had always been the chipper New York spirit in anticipation of the Spring season and warm weather had been turned on its head as everyone in the most crowded city in the country was suddenly terrified of proximity.
The Q train platform is humongous, but not immune to being crowded at rush hour. As we stood there processing the different adversities we were juggling, from my mother’s immediate health to the long-term prognosis of the planet, live music began in the distance. A black man blowing on a horn of sorts. He was excellent, his tune was loud and ominous, it pervaded the entire platform, track to track, floor to atypically high ceilings, and the sound was bone-chilling.
Whereas the article I’d read in Chicago the week before, citing tangible statistics and frontline observations left me determined to be doubtful, hopeful that one person’s perspective could be taken with a grain of salt, the subway musician’s notes rocked me to my core. Although a global pandemic is hard to imagine unfolding when you’ve never previously experienced one, I suddenly had the crazy but not so crazy thought, that we were all going to die. My mother’s upcoming procedure was only a microscopic foreshadowing, to the soundtrack of these incredible horn sounds, the likes of which I’d never heard before, or at least never been so conscious of. It was the most solemn Manhattan atmosphere I’d ever been bathed in.
Thankfully, Mom was fine. We went out for lunch afterwards. My brother and I hung around and went out to dinner that night and even shared an appetizer with questionably washed hands, still wrought with increasingly more ignorant optimism. It’s gonna be fine.
The next morning I went to work. I remember it was a busy day, I had a packed schedule, and everyone in the office was talking Covid, with the same varying degrees of concern that would continue for years. One of the other acupuncturists I shared the suite with was especially worried, coming to confide in me every time she walked out of the room from treating a patient. One of her friends was feeling very sick and she was with him just a few days ago. Should she be worried, she asked. I told her no, she’d likely be fine, even as I was backing away from her face being too close to my own.
A doctor in our suite shared with everyone that she’d heard one way to self-test for Covid was by seeing if you can hold your breath for at least ten seconds. Like everyone else I immediately “tested,” and confirmed I was okay. A reassuring respite as none of us yet knew a thing.
A few hours later I was just about to enter a treatment room with a patient when I got a text from my brother: “I’m not feeling so good,” and I hate to admit it was the most mentally checked out I’ve ever been during an intake, consumed by terror for the first time in my life, that I could lose my brother. I thought about the article I’d read in Chicago, and in a flash Covid-19 was the only thing that mattered.
I placed an order for herbs from Kamwo Pharmacy and texted my wife that I was canceling my plans for the evening. I’d be home for dinner.
I’d never seen Kamwo’s store look this way before. It was unusually crowded and loud, the workers were moving at a pace relegated mostly to restaurant workers during a dinner rush, and the island table that sits in the middle of the store was EMPTY! I’ve been going to Kamwo since 2005, and every time I’ve been there that table is filled with all kinds of herbs, packs, and supplements. On March 13th, 2020, it was stripped bare, with only traces of herbal dust and particles, as if some gang of neurotic acupuncturists had ransacked the place and we were in the first episode of The Walking Dead.
The next morning I wore two masks and two gloves and took the bus crosstown to drop herbs off for my brother to take. We greeted each other on opposite sides of his glass front door, both smiled masculine facades of sarcasm. I left the herbs on the floor and him at home, praying as I walked briskly back west that he’d be okay. He had to be okay.
That night we learned that my wife’s office was closing, and the NBA shut down its season. I waited only about 24 hours before deciding to shut down my own office, and the race for groceries and supplies began. It was nothing if not surreal, and I hadn’t been so glued to the News since 9/11.
We spent the next 100 days (approximately) as did most Liberal New Yorkers, cautiously holed up and curious, still somehow busy with work, suffering varying degrees of cabin fever depending on your individual constitution and personality type. I drank a bit too much the first couple of weeks, we cheered for the healthcare heroes every night at 7:00, spent more time making more elaborate meals, and took to jogging around the Central Park reservoir daily to get some movement and fresh air, albeit with a mask on, unsure of just how contagious this thing was.
Online people became more divided and opinionated about race and science than ever before. We learned new expressions, like “social distancing,” and determined a great more number of enemies through philosophical disagreements. I lost thousands of dollars in rent for an office I couldn’t use. In anticipation of creating a family, my wife lost her tolerance for our lack of space, and we relocated to Jersey City. I remember talking with a friend who hypothesized this was going to “go on for a year,” and consistent with my previous naivete I thought she was nuts. No way was this going to go on for a year, I thought, which in hindsight I realize was just my proclaiming that no way could I tolerate it for a year.
As it turns out we can tolerate much more than we think. Having a pregnancy through various waves of the virus, namely Delta, then needing to protect our newborn while allowing family members who were “over it” in 2021 to meet her was challenging to say the least. And I have no true conclusions here, except to share my personal experience.
On one hand I am eternally grateful to have not lost anyone close to me. My mom and brother, wife and baby are all okay, and fingers crossed, the last Omicron wave at the end of 2022 seems to have been the last great gasp of the virus, which is now just part of our lives. I’m sorry to those who lost people close to them. I’ll always remember that Friday, the 13th, three years ago, and will continue to study my medicine to be able to best support myself, my family, and others as we navigate illnesses, whether acute or chronic, mild or severe, in hopes of minimizing suffering.
Embracing Herbal Therapy: What You Need to Know
Herbal therapy has been championed by China and other Eastern countries for centuries. As Western medicine looks for more natural alternatives with fewer side effects, herbal medicine is gaining a foothold in the treatment of several common health concerns. Read on for advice from the Cleveland Clinic and learn what recent research has to say about herbalism. continue reading
How Much Animal Protein Should I/We/U Eat?
I got some great feedback from last week’s newsletter, not the least of which in the form of an inquiry and idea for elaboration on what is a “mindful” amount of animal protein for one to consume. Obviously, this is a subject of great debate—as are most dietary recommendations—and one Chinese medicine has strong opinions on.
Ironically, it was “The China Study” (2005) that prompted even greater popularity for vegetarianism, in spite of my understanding its conclusion was predicated on the assumption that if less is good, then none must be great. Traditional Chinese Medicine does not agree.
It would be impossible to know exactly how much animal protein is advisable for any one individual, but relatively easy to offer some general guidelines:
- Eat only wild fish, grass-fed or grass-finished meats, sans hormones or antibiotics. I recommend Whole Foods, Vital Choice, or Butcher Box.
- Eat more animal protein in winter and less in summer—approximately once a day in winter (in addition to eggs is fine, since eggs are light and easily digestible in the absence of any specific sensitivity) and 2-4 times a week in summer.
- Women should eat more red meat on their menses.
- Women should eat more red meat before, during, and after pregnancy.
- Elderly people need more animal protein than younger people.
- Everyone needs more animal protein after surgery, or after something like a marathon—basically any physical trauma.
- Animal protein should make up the smallest portion of food on your plate. In no way does this mean it should not appear on your plate, nor that its appearance is that of an allowable indulgence. Just that if each meal could be looked at as an herbal formula, the most beneficial dosage of steak would be smaller than that of broccoli.
- It is a kind gesture to say a quick prayer and thank the animal before consumption.
- People with a great deal of systemic “damp heat” should eat less animal protein than those with systemic “cold” and “blood deficient” constitutions. The challenge of course lies in that damp heat can dry out our body fluids and create blood deficiency, which causes us to require more meat. Also cold, over time, can create damp heat in the typical manifestation of inflammation as result of weakness.
How do you know who you are? It’s tough.
“Cold people” tend to have lesser appetites, more digestive complaints, and more frequent bowel movements. They’re rarely thirsty and rarely sweat, but they tend to sleep great.
“Damp heat people” tend to huge appetites, iron stomachs, and less frequent bowel movements, which doesn’t seem to bother them at all. They’re more likely ravenously thirsty and sleep is a great challenge.
Obviously, there are exceptions to these rules, but mostly as a result of one pathology lingering chronically for long enough to complicate the pattern by engendering its opposite. This is what makes real medicine so challenging. In school we learn case studies as if people are one or the other—either warm or cold-bodied—then we get into practice and quickly realize if only it were so simple. People are complex. So are our bodies, which means so should be its fuel sources.
I love my vegan friends, I respect vegetarianism for ethical reasons, but per usual, I believe that Chinese Medicine’s more moderate and discerning perspective on diet is most logical.
Sleep Supplements (for Temporary Use)
To non-insomniacs, insomnia is as foreign a concept as indigestion is to those of us with iron stomachs. The latter have experienced nausea maybe a few times in life, they’ve had food poisoning or diarrhea, so they know the feeling—but they have no idea what it’s like to be in a perpetual state of gastrointestinal vulnerability. To have to always be aware of what they’re eating or have a lesser capacity for the holiday indulgences that others seem to be able to “stomach” relatively easily.
Conversely, most non-insomniacs have experienced sleeplessness on at least one occasion. Having caffeine too late in the day, an exorbitant amount of life stressors on one’s mind, or just a random night of anxiety, feeling inexplicably wired in anticipation of a potentially exhausting day to come. However, they don’t know what it’s like for this to make up the majority of one’s nights, for it to become a vicious cycle of neuroses around sleep hygiene and schedule decisions, nor the cumulative effect of chronic insomnia versus a bad night here and there.
Insomnia is considered one of the most difficult pathologies to address, not just in Chinese Medicine, but in western medicine and most medical paradigms. There are many moving etiological parts, from the brain’s pineal gland and vagus nerve to adrenal hormones, parasympathetic function, and of course the “food stagnation” pattern. Anyone ever eat a huge meal late at night and sleep poorly? This might be a pile of pizza clogging up the vagus nerve’s pathway for sleep neurotransmitters to smoothly travel along.
While it is important to remain vigilant in uncovering the root cause and holistic pattern of any disease, symptom management, in my opinion, can be equally important in the interim. Diet, sleep, and exercise are a trifecta agreed upon across all medical paradigms, as the holy grail to avoiding disease, so when one is compromised it should be addressed with urgency.
If breathing exercises work for you it generally indicates a less severe root pattern, also offering an opportunity to hone your meditation skills. I recommend either the 478 Breath or this silent kundalini yoga mantra.
If yours is more of a “blood deficient yang ming” kind of insomnia (think waking in the middle of the night or early in the morning and feeling wide awake, but somehow still exhausted), breathing alone will likely not be enough. This is a difficult pattern to treat, albeit do-able, but during the trial-and-error healing process I’d recommend any of the following supplements:
DOC PARSLEY is a melatonin blend, not advisable to use long-term but according to my most respected teachers it is relatively helpful and harmless off and on for brief interims.
SHIZANDRA DREAMS combines western and eastern herbs, the former of which includes valerian root. Again, we do not believe any medications should be taken in perpetuity, but this is okay to use briefly while getting your life and/or brain back to normal operating mode.
Finally, and I have mentors who’d smack me for writing this, but SUAN ZAO REN TANG is a generic formula that has personally helped me in the past. It includes poria mushroom, licorice, chuanxiong root, anemarrhenae root, and zizyphi seed. Its imperfections lie in the fact that zizyphi seed is nourishing, hence sticky, so if the patient bears a great deal of systemic damp heat it may aggravate this. Also, anemarrhenae is very cooling, so if the patient is already cold they might become colder. Western medicine has the luxury of not having to consider such factors. “Some people experience side effects. Some don’t (shoulder shrug).”
Please consult me if you’d like to order any of these or once you begin taking them, so we can execute intelligently, in spite of the reductionist medical recommendations I’ve just shared.
The Mutual Interdependence of Yin and Yang in a Toddler
Putting our baby, Peyton, to sleep, whether for a nap or for the night, has never been easy… especially for me, who lacks my wife’s physiological advantage to match what is probably her more calming energy and cooling constitution. Thus far we suspect, for better or worse, that our daughter’s constitution is more similar to mine.
There was an entire three-month period, somewhere between her 10th and 13th months if I remember correctly, that no matter what I tried failed—she wouldn’t sleep for me—and it drove me insane with all of the typically childish new parent emotional extremes: Frustration, exhaustion, resentment, etc.
I tried bouncing her, rocking her, petting her on the upper back, petting her on the lower back, doing more of a tushy pat than a pet (supposedly the key for our babysitter), and feeding her until she finally and predictably refused the bottle completely. Almost nothing worked during this interim, until one day I came up with a different idea.
One day in mid-tantrum, instead of trying to gently calm her I decided to cradle and hold her tight on my lap, restraining her from squirming away from me while screaming and crying with that rageful fatigue seemingly unique to babies. I squeezed her close so she knew I was there, so she knew that I cared, but at the same time I wouldn’t let her go—at least not for a few minutes. I’d hum into her frontal lobe, gently kissing her forehead, to contrast my fully grown man arms locked around this poor 25-pound angel when all she wanted was off my lap. When I finally let her go she’d collapse face down on the bed next to me, and I’d return to yin. I’d lay next to her petting her back and she’d fall asleep almost instantly. It was the perfect depiction of the mutually interdependent relationship between yin and yang.
In order to enter yin, to fully relax and go to sleep, Peyton had internal yang fire that first needed to release. Maybe we didn’t get quite enough out running around on the playground, or maybe as I prefer to think, her fire was so fueled by the excitement of being with Daddy, that my task was a much taller one than the likes of the babysitter. In any case, she was dealing with a very normal amount of hyperactive central nervous activity that had to vent, and by restraining her physical movements while allowing her to vocalize frustration, she was finally able to viscerally experience the fatigue subdued beneath her heat.
As adults we are no different. If we do not nourish our body’s yang, our yin will eventually suffer, and vice versa. A lack of movement or physical exertion over time may engender an inability to calm down, which can manifest in any way from insomnia to anxiety, irritability, or systemic dryness, as our healthy metabolic fluids dry out due to systemic inflammatory heat.
Conversely, we must nourish our body’s yin in order to experience healthy yang energy long term. Yin is best represented in life’s pauses, as many yoga teachers instruct us to be mindful of the moments between breaths, the end of our exhales and beginning of inhales. Taking a pause while eating our meals, pauses in the middle of each day, periodic vacations, lunch breaks, or 15 minutes to simply lie down and close your eyes. Every form of stoppage will nourish our yin, which will then logically allow us to fully experience our healthiest yang.
After a long nap, a stoppage, Peyton’s energy levels return to infinite, and our cycle continues. I take her to the playground, chase her up and down slides, play full-contact swings, and sometimes just let her run around the periphery of the park. My own yin is as under-nourished as it’s ever been, so I must compensate in other places. Going to sleep earlier, stealing naps whenever possible, eating a bit more animal protein, and ensuring to stay hydrated, as fluids are yin. Fortunately, we’ve since passed the phase of restraint strategy while segueing into her apparently close to complete understanding of language. Now I just do the petting and patting, cuddling next to her, and whisper to her: “I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.” Lately that’s what works best. But check back with me next month. Surely, it’ll be something different.
