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Interview with Nigel Dawes- Part two

Nigel Dawes practices shiatsu, acupuncture and Kampo herbal medicine in New York City. This is the second part of classicformulas.com’s discussion with him about the use of abdominal diagnosis as it relates to the application of classic formulas.  Nigel maintains a busy clinical practice in New York and teaches Kampo herbal medicine. He translated a major Japanese text on the clinical application of Kampo in modern society and is working on some follow-up material as well. He recently took a not small amount of time to visit with us at classicformulas.com and share his views on learning medicine, fine tuning our palpation skills and navigating between apparently conflictual clinical points of view.

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Q- Generally speaking, dosing for herbs in China tends to be quite a bit higher than the amounts used in Japanese formulas. What are your thoughts on dosing?

I have a few thoughts on this issue:

1. Classical Formulas (Jing Fang) as a “unit”.

We do not generally modify the dose of an herb or herbs within the formula unit. In other words classical formulas are prescribed as they were written in terms of individual herb dosing as well as in terms of proportions within the formula as a whole.

For Example: In Kampo dosing the formula Gui Zhi Fu Ling Wan (Cinnamon & Hoelen Combination) uses 4g of each of the 5 ingredients (Gui Zhi, Fu Ling, Mu Dan Pi, Bai Shao Yao, Tao Ren) per daily dose.

There are several reasons for this practice. In Kampo training we spend intensive amounts of study on the formulas themselves (primarily classical formulas – Jing Fang). Little time is dedicated to individual herb study in the beginning as the primary objective of training is clinical – to arrive at the ability to accurately assess and treat with a corresponding classical formula or formulas. Only after some years of clinical experience do Kampo practitioners advocate the detailed study of individual herbs within the formula unit. This can be summarized in Dr. Otsuka’s often quoted motto:

“30 Years to become a Kampo practitoner. Ten years to learn the formulas. Ten years to learn to modify. Ten years to write a formula.”

This of course stands out in contrast to the training currently offered in most 5-year bachelor programs in China and TCM schools in Europe and the US where students are expected not only to memorize in excess of 400 individual herbs and more than 300 formulas, but also be able to construct a formula for a patient from scratch after only three years (at least in the US) of training – and that is concurrent with acupuncture study to boot! No wonder many of our MSOM grads lack clinical confidence in prescribing when they first graduate!!

The point being that in Kampo, we do not mess with the original formula structure much if at all, either in terms of individual herb doses or with the proportional amounts of each herb within the formula. There are clinical decisions, which may require “dosing up or down” for smaller or larger patients, metabolic issues, digestive sensitivity, climate etc. But in these cases the herb proportions within the formula are always strictly maintained. For example in the above-mentioned formula we could increase all 5 herbs to 6 or even 8 grams per daily dose or reduce them in the same proportions but we would never alter the individual herb doses such that the proportions were changed. Respect for the synergy of the formulation is key in Kampo and always takes precedence over perceived individual herb action.

2. Smaller is better

In kampo as in many Japanese styles of acupuncture there is an unstated belief that “less is more”. In acupuncture that means finer needles, less vigorous manipulation, non-insertion or “contact” needling, and in Kampo the use of both small formulas and small doses has become the “norm.”

Essentially this is a cultural phenomenon and reference to the medical anthropology literature on this issue would shed light on how and why the Japanese culture developed this tendency for minimalism in medicine and indeed throughout the culture as a whole.

However I feel there are other influences at work here– many of them pragmatic. For example the flow of herbal materials into Japan since the 6th century has, until comparatively recently, been sketchy and often unreliable. Many herbs and particularly animal products commonly used in China simply were not available in Japan on any large scale. Some medical historians have pointed to this as one reason for the Japanese preference for small, simple formulations from the Han dynasty as well as for the very infrequent use of animal products or very large, complex formulations in Ming dynasty China and later. Others have also suggested in the case of animal product use that the Japanese heavily Buddhist-inspired sensibility on this issue, strongly influenced this trend. Be that as it may, Kampo’s predilection for small, low dose formulas without exotic or rare ingredients was already well established by the Edo period and remains till today.

3. Potential textual mis-interpretation

Some scholars have suggested (and I am not qualified to have an opinion on this one) that the units of measurement quoted in the Shang Han Lun and other early classical texts are not clearly understood in today’s weights and measurement scales. They may therefore remain open to interpretation.

This does seem very possible to me and may account for quite some variation in interpretation when it comes to dosages. After all, if our post-modern world has taught us anything in historical terms it is that there can be no absolute account of past events (especially from 2000 years ago). The role of subjective analysis may be more useful to us here than any attempt at discerning some “absolute” truth.

4. Quality Control Issues

A final point I would make on this issue is a commercial one (that nonetheless has immediate clinical implications) and has to do with modern quality control standards in the herbal manufacturing industry, which in Japan is entirely controlled by big Pharma.

Whatever our personal stance regarding the activities of the pharmaceutical industry and its products, the fact remains that when it comes to manufacturing and selling prepared herbal formulations (in freeze-dried 5:1 ratio granular extract form in Japan’s case) the large R & D budgets these companies enjoy combined with the very strict quality control requirements of the government regulatory agencies (Ministry of health in Japan) ensure a certifiably high grade product. Herbs are sold and regulated in Japan (and in Taiwan though not currently in China) as “Ethical Drugs” (an FDA category). In other words they are subject to the same rigorous assays, testing and other commercial manufacturing and production standards as pharmaceutical drugs. They are not considered “food” as they are at this point in the US.

The point here with regard to dosing is that any individual herbal product whether a single dose, a package or an entire batch, can claim (and document) the very highest quality in terms of meeting assay requirements of active ingredients present, absence of additives or contaminants, accurate labeling and all the many other aspects that define quality control of herbs.

This cannot be said at this point for the raw herb market as it is extremely hard to determine quality on sight and even harder sometimes to establish the source of the herbal material, it’s cultivation method, harvesting, preparation and so on. We are not trained pharmacists ,let alone botanists – how can we be expected to confirm the medicinal quality of raw herbs we purchase for our patients? Not so the mega pharmaceutical giants who dispatch highly trained specialists to the Hong Kong markets and elsewhere to do their selection and purchasing. Not to mention it is a well-known fact that China reserves its best quality product for the export market.

My final point then is that, though the dosing may be smaller in Japan than elsewhere (sometimes by as much as two thirds), we should take into account the possibility that the quality of the herbs themselves may be far superior and therefore more potent than many of the raw herb prescriptions filled in mainland China and elsewhere.

 

Q- In addition to Otsuka’s system for determining which herbs would be useful for a patient, there are also abdominal diagnosis systems for acupuncture. Leaving those aside for the moment, have you found in your clinical experience that certain abdominal findings from Otsuka’s system that lead you to checking for the effectiveness of certain points?

This is something that, as an acupuncturist also, I have been working on for a while. I should say though that consistent with two things I mentioned earlier, I try in general:

a) not to mix traditions and
b) to approach channel-based (exterior) and substance-based (interior) problems differently– often with different disciplines.

This said, the way I tend to use the Kampo abdominal findings in regard to influencing acupuncture point selection is as follows:

1. I think in point groupings not in terms of individual points (in much the same way as Kampo practice focuses on formulas not individual herbs.)
2. I arrive at those point groupings not by identifying the Zang-Fu pattern suggested by the formula prescription and matching point selection accordingly (the standard TCM approach). But, rather by identifying and reflecting on the functional targets of the formula that I have selected and trying to match a point grouping accordingly.

Example:
Let’s say the formula prescription was Chai Hu Gui Zhi Tang (Bupleurum and Cinnamon Combination) based on an abdomen pattern that included both Kyo Kyo Ku Man (Xiong Xie Ku Man 胸脇苦満), Ri Kyu (Li Ji 裏急) and Do Ki (Dong Qi 動悸).

A point formulation that comes to mind in this case would be what is often termed the “8-Gate yangming treatment”. Namely:

Du20, Yintang, Li4, Liv3, Li10, St36

The rationale here is that:

a. Kyo Kyo Ku Man (Hypochondriac obstruction and distress) reflects in Kampo the need for Chai Hu formulas with the function of promoting proper flow of qi and blood through the Liver system (hence the “outer” 4-Gates, Li4 and Liv3)
b. Ri Kyu (Muscular tension or spasm in the abdominal wall, primarily in the m. rectus abdominis) indicates the need for softening (Bai Shao Yao), moistening (Da Zao, Zhi Gan Cao,) warming and circulating (Sheng Jiang, Gui Zhi) through sweet stimulation of the Middle Jiao digestive function (hence the 4 “inner” gates, Li10 (Li11 can be used instead) and St36.
c. Do Ki (Pulsations along the abdominal aorta) indicate the need for settling the Qi downwards, not by cooling or anchoring it (as with minerals) but by warming, softening and relaxing the vessels achieved by Gui Zhi and Da Zao in particular (hence the use of “calming” points such as Du20 and Yintang).

This is one example formula and I could offer many more. But sometimes associations can be literal and related again to the overall function of a particular formulation both of herbs and points. An example of this might be:

Shi Quan Da Bu Tang (Ginseng and Dang Gui Ten Combination – literally: “the ten great tonifying decoction”). Miriam Lee comes to mind when I use this formula with a patient as she very often advocated her so-called “Great Ten Point Combination” comprising:
Li10 (or 11), Lu7, Li4, St36, Sp6 (or Liv3). When considered as a unit, this point combination clearly aims at an overall qi and blood nourishing effect with the use of a Lung point to target the Wei Qi (matching the effect of Huang Qi in the herbal formula which carries the very same name).

This is the kind of thinking I employ when trying to “translate” herbal diagnostic information into my acupuncture practice.

 

Q- What are your thoughts on constitution? Is this something that informs your clinical work and if so, how?

In Kampo practice constitutional analysis forms a major part of the assessment process. It often influences treatment strategies even more powerfully than the presenting signs and symptoms.

Tai Shitsu (Ti Zhi 体質), literally the “root” of the person, is a composite reflection of a person’s behavior, body type, personality, tendency towards disease and response to treatment. I my experience, this is an aspect of diagnosis that is only accurately observed in a patient over time. Learning more about their likes and dislikes, their lifestyle, family, chosen profession, relationships as well as palpating their pulse and abdomen on a regular basis and carefully observing their responses to treatment (both immediate and long term) gradually allow the clinician to come to a better understanding of what we might call “constitution.”

In Kampo, this is usually expressed in terms of an over-arching Kyo (Xu 虚) or Jitsu (Shi 實) type with a “moderate” constitutional type in the middle. Formulas are always referred to in the literature as being “for the strong, weak or moderate constitution.” Check for example: Commonly Used Chinese Herbal Formulas, Hong Yen Hsu, Publ. Oriental healing Arts and you will easily find this type of referencing (he studied in Japan with Dr. Otsuka and was himself heavily influenced by the Kampo system).

“Qi”, “Blood” or “Fluid” types are considered constitutional subcategories, each with their own tell-tale signs and qualities.
Furthermore, there are two specific sub-divisions of constitutional typing which include:

a. Hie Sho (leng zhi zheng 冷え症) – those people who by nature are ALWAYS cold even in the absence of any yang-damaging cold pathogen. In the vernacular we might refer to these types as having “poor circulation” and of course endocrine issues (such as hypothyroidism) can be a factor here.
b. I Cho Kyo Jyaku (wei chang xu ruo 胃腸虚弱) – those people who are known to suffer from especially weak gastrointestinal functioning. Possibly caused by traumatic damage to the gut – viruses, parasites, eating disorders, poor in-utero nutrition, immune or allergic tendencies etc.

This is a fascinating area of practice for me and I cannot elaborate here in any meaningful way without a lot more space. Suffice to say that this way of thinking clinically influences just about every choice I make in treatment approaches to any given condition. Conversely, neglecting to take into account the constitutional aspect of the presentation as a whole has often led me into difficulty especially when it comes to herbal prescribing.

Take myself for example. I discovered early on that, even when I may enter the taiyang stage and at its worst I may have horrible muscle and joint aches, chills and fever, a cracking headache and a tight, floating pulse, though I may feel the need to simply “sweat it out” I simply cannot tolerate Mahuang Tang. I usually get stomach cramps, nausea, palpitations, jitteriness and my mouth feels as dry as leather. If it’s early stage taiyang I can usually get away with a dose or two of Ge Gen Tang but the formula of choice for colds and flu for me in the taiyang stage is Gui Zhi Tang or modifications of it.

Simply put Mahuang is way too drying for my already dry body type and way too stimulating for my qi-type constitution. Without the mitigating influence of something like Ge Gen I cannot tolerate its effect on my gut and my nervous system. I could give countless examples from my practice of this need to consider constitution as part of the overall diagnostic picture where many times dosing has to be altered accordingly, or more commonly another formula is used.

This speaks to the strong belief within the modern Koho-Ha (Classical) school of Kampo, which Dr. Otsuka championed, namely that the patient’s healing response must not be too violent or uncomfortable. Such an approach interestingly is in direct opposition to that of some other notable Kampo physicians amongst whom Todo Yoshimazu 吉益東洞(1702-1773) stands out in particular. He advocated his theory of Manbyo ichidoku setsu 万病一毒説 literally: “All disease is caused by a single toxin” referring to the idea that all treatment needs to start with identifying and eliminating at all cost the disease-causing entity within the system. This required using harsh purgatives, diaphoretics and other draining treatments that often induced a strong Men gen (眄)瞑 眩 or “Healing Crisis.” Todo considered this a “requirement” of the treatment process whilst Dr. Otsuka claimed such cathartic reactions constituted “improper treatment.” Interesting differences of opinion even in this case within the same current of Japanese Kampo!

 

Q- What advice would you have for our readers who would like to learn more about how to use abdominal diagnosis in their clinical work? Obviously, taking some of your workshops would be a good idea, but what else can they do to start cultivating these skills?

The usual anecdote applies: “you can’t learn practical skills from a book.” Not to mention in the case of abdominal diagnosis in the Kampo tradition we simply don’t have much available in English on this subject. Dr. Otsuka’s 1956 text, recently published in English by Churchill Livingstone in 2010, is perhaps an exception though the abdomen section is rather small. I am currently at work on a comprehensive text on this topic but it probably won’t be out for a while……!

Best thing to do is get to a seminar wherever you can, or at least get hold of a copy of Miki Shima’s video on this topic – which is not bad and shows a very similar system of palpation to Dr. Otsuka’s.

In the final analysis, please feel free to contact me personally and for practitioners in the NY area you are always welcome to come and shadow in my office. I also offer internships in my office by invitation.

My personal hope is that this kind of invaluable work will gradually gain favor with practically-minded clinicians and there will be a future generation of teachers and practitioners using abdominal diagnosis for the prescription of herbs. It will just take a little time.

 

Interview with Nigel Dawes- part one

Nigel Dawes practices shiatsu, acupuncture and Kampo herbal medicine in New York City. In addition to his busy clinical practice and teaching Kampo herbal medicine, he has also translated a major Japanese text on the clinical application of Kampo in modern society. He recently took a not small amount of time to visit with us at classicformulas.com and share his views on learning medicine, fine tuning our palpation skills and navigating between apparently conflictual clinical points of view.

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Q- No one can write a book of the caliber that you have without some deep immersion into both the culture and medicine of Japan. What was it that piqued your interest in Japan and took you over there? How did you make the connections that eventually opened the door to translating Otsuka’s book?

When people ask me why I went to Japan or what inspired me to do what I have ended up doing professionally, I often experience a rather familiar feeling. It’s the one I bet you also know when a patient, friend or family member asks you how acupuncture works. Yikes! Yes, THAT question! Of course it’s the most obvious one to ask and would seem perhaps rather straightforward yet it turns out, at least for me, to be rather complicated.

You see, unlike many of my colleagues and friends in the field, I cannot report having had a transformative healing experience through East Asian Medicine in my early years; nor did I have a formal background in East Asian Studies either cultural or linguistic; neither did I have extensive training in the martial arts – all the above being rather common precursors to an affinity for the East Asian Healing arts. I didn’t even have any Japanese (or other Asian) friends or connections at the time I first traveled to the Far East. So why Japan?

Rather prosaic answer I’m afraid – it was about as far from home (the UK) as I could get, I was reliably informed English was widely spoken at least in Tokyo, it was easy to get a visa and, most pertinently, I could teach English and get paid (well) for it. The first of these reasons had to do with me buying some time to reflect on what I might eventually choose as a “real career” (my father’s words at the time); the last three being compelling reasons to chose Japan over several other Asian countries I had considered (mainland China being pretty much inaccessible to foreigners in the early 1980’s).

So it was that in 1982 I found myself getting off the plane in Narita airport, heading for downtown Tokyo and an even more uncertain future! I did not imagine then that I would be spending the next 5 years in East Asia nor that I would develop a passion for the study and practice of the traditional medicine systems of that part of the world. It was due to a combination of luck, chance encounters and a lot of dogged determination I did effectively “discover” a practice and its supporting philosophy that, to this day, have continued to inspire and bring great professional satisfaction to me.

My initial plan, as far as I had one, was to stay in Japan as long as finances allowed before moving on to more “exotic” shores in Asia. Japan at that time was an expensive proposition for the frugal traveler compared to many of its neighbors. The Gaijin (foreigners) I met there by and large fell into two groups. The ex-pats, typically working with a company, on expense accounts and with no motivation to integrate in any real sense with the culture. The other group, mostly students of one sort of another, who were drawn to Japan for some specific cultural and educational purpose or pursuing the fine arts, notably Tea Ceremony, Japanese Flute, Calligraphy, Butoh dance or other art forms. There were also quite a large number of foreigners who were studying one or other of the many healing art disciplines collectively referred to as To Yo I Gaku (Traditional East Asian Medicine).

In my first weeks in Tokyo I met with a host of people, many of whom were later to become close friends and who belonged to one or other of these groups. Through these influences I began the study of taichi and practice of Macrobiotics. This lead to more of an interest in the natural foods and healing world. Quite quickly and somewhat randomly, I found myself in in a small Acupuncture Institute at the suggestion of my now close friend, Peter Yates, who ironically after all these years lives a few miles from me here in the NY area. Already a long-time martial artist and Asian medicine student at the time, he convinced me that I would not be able to resist the pull of Japanese Traditional Medicine. I was skeptical. I had only been “on the road” a month, barely out of full-time education and with some savings in my pocket I wasn’t nearly ready to settle into anything serious just yet. How delightfully wrong I was!

As far as my introduction into Kampo (Sino-Japanese Herbology), again the dice rolled in my favor. Since the 1950’s in Japan, acupuncture, moxibustion and Shiatsu have had their own distinct licenses with training open to non-medical students. Kampo education however has been restricted since that time to licensed pharmacists and medical doctors only. In my case, a co-student at my acupuncture school, Peter Townsend, happened also to be a licensed pharmacist in his native New Zealand. Alongside his acupuncture studies he was privileged to be studying under Otsuka Yasuo at the Kitasato Research Institute in Tokyo, which had been founded by his father, Otsuka Keisetsu (whose book, Kampo Igaku, I ended up co-translating more than 20 years later). I, and a few others convinced Peter to start teaching Kampo at the acupuncture school to us foreigners and so began my first tentative herbal studies.

It wasn’t until after my return from Japan to the UK in 1987 that, by chance, another colleague from those days in Japan, Gretchen De Soriano, who had also studied under Otsuka Yasuo at Kitasato, came to live in London and I became one of her first students in a two-year clinical Kampo internship. Naturally, in deference to my long-term friendship with Gretchen as a teacher and a colleague, all these years later after successfully getting a contract to publish the translation of Otsuka’s book with Churchill Livingstone, I invited her to join the project. She already possessed a working translation of the text in rough draft for teaching purposes and together we worked pretty intensively on it for several years before its final publication in 2010. Too bad neither father (who passed away in 1980) nor son got to see the final English translation.

Q- Han fang tends to primarily focus on the abdominal presentation. Those of us that have spend years working on pulse skills have a hard time leaving that behind, especially when the pulse and abdomen are sending conflicting signals. Any advice on how to navigate between these systems?

I don’t anymore! That is, I have given up trying to “make it all fit.” As you say there is frequently apparent conflict (even though such conflict may often be a reflection of our own poor understanding). Nevertheless, when it comes to the abdomen, I have studied methods of abdominal palpation and diagnosis in the Shiatsu, Acupuncture and Kampo traditions, all of which are often quite distinct one from the other. Even within each of those disciplines, major differences are evident such as Zen Shiatsu vs Macrobiotic Shiatsu; Meridian Therapy vs Manaka-style Acupuncture, as well as the differences between the modern Koho-Ha (Classical) and Gosei-Ha (Later Generation) schools of Kampo to name a few. Attempting to synthesize all these sources of information into a coherent system of diagnosis and interpretation I feel is presumptuous. In fact, it will likely (and certainly has done whenever I’ve tried) confuse the issue. Likewise, the same goes for integrating findings from pulse, abdomen and tongue. Sometimes there is a palpable correlation and things are clear, but most often these differing methods of assessment seem to reflect different findings.

I would venture to suggest however that, rather than assume there is conflict, think instead that each method is reflecting a different aspect of the whole. This perspective is rather like contemplating a work of art from different angles and in differing light. The material remains the same though the perception of it, and what gets emphasized under the gaze of the observer, can be radically different (though not actually conflictual).

What am I actually saying about this point? My method is simple:

1. Conduct each aspect of the palpatory exam (abdomen, pulse and channel/point) independently and interpret your findings according to the system to which they belong.

For example:
If you are employing the six-position pulse comparison method from the Nan Jing as Japanese meridian therapists do (myself included) then you are assessing a pattern of channel imbalance according to deficiency and excess, which informs your point selection and needling method based on correcting that level of imbalance. If however, you are palpating the abdomen in the modern Koho-Ha Kampo style (as I do) then you are attempting to identify a formula prescription that corresponds directly with the pattern palpated. So it might be that a deep, weak guan position finding on the left wrist will be treated with Liv8 / K10 (water on wood and water); and yet if the same patient presents with a Kyo Ka Hi Ko (tightness in the right hypochondrium) and mild Oketsu (Blood Stasis) in the abdominal pattern they may be prescribed a chái hú (Bupleuri Radix) based formula such as sì nì sân (Frigid Extremities Powder) possibly combined with guì zhï fú líng wán (Cinnamon Twig and Poria Pill). From a channel perspective you might argue a deficiency pattern whilst from an herbal perspective you also established some stasis that needed moving. The only way to correlate these findings is to look at a case example carefully which is beyond our scope here. Suffice to say that I can imagine a young, weak constitution, female patient with a history of blood deficiency who might well present with the above two findings just prior to her menses. One interpretation of the apparently conflictual signs is that she does indeed have an underlying pattern of (probably Liver) blood deficiency but that there are elements of Oketsu naturally manifesting just prior to the menses. Both assessments are accurate in terms of their own points of reference and therefore both treatments can be combined.

I myself have found a way that works for me in regard to this pulse/abdomen conundrum: I only take the pulse at the outset of any treatment in order to gain information for point selection in the “root” or first phase of my needling. Only after this first set of needles have been removed do I palpate the abdomen and begin thinking about an herbal prescription. This method enables me to keep my focus on separate disciplines, and ultimately connect bits of information at different times during each treatment.

2. Try to establish a hierarchy of treatment based on the separation of signs and symptoms into “primary” and “secondary” significance. This is not the same as “root” and “branch” as it often requires the treatment of branch manifestations BEFORE root causes.

For example:
In Kampo, primary stasis at the Yin level (ie: Blood or Fluid) is always singled out for treatment BEFORE anything else is attempted. That is to say in cases where either Oketsu (Blood Stasis) or Sui Doku (Toxic Water Accumulation) are detected, even in patterns of underlying deficiency, herbal methods of cracking and moving blood or dispersing and draining fluids are always used first. In such cases the abdomen (and tongue), which tend more readily to reflect changes at the Yin levels of the body, are more reliable than the pulse and should be followed without doubt.

In the above case example (1), if the patient were of a stronger constitutional type, it might be that the pulse finding was merely a reflection of the fact that primary organ level Blood Stasis caused poor peripheral Qi and blood flow at the channel level giving rise to a weak left guan pulse finding. In such a case moving stasis and invigorating blood flow from the interior will likely result in a filling out of the pulse volume and strength in the channels.

On the other hand, the pulse clearly takes precedence in cases of exterior pathology (soft tissue & joint disease for example) and also in cases of exterior pathogenic attack to the body. Especially in the tài yáng stage for example, the pulse is far more helpful and reliable than the abdomen in confirming the location and nature of the pathogen. One might conclude from this a general statement that acute exterior patterns are ruled by the pulse, whilst chronic interior patterns are ruled by the abdomen (and tongue) though I would not completely defend that statement from my experience. As we know and have come to appreciate, there are always exceptions in East Asian Medicine!

Q- When I first learned acupuncture we used to practice needling oranges, or little pillows made up of different kinds of cloth between layers of cotton, as a way to develop the sensitivity of our fingers. Obviously being sure we palpate everyone that comes across our table so we have an opportunity to gain experience is helpful. But, what about some guidelines for making sense of what we feel? Also, do you have suggestions for how to approach and make sense of our palpitory findings, especially in the absence of a more experienced practitioner who can help us to calibrate our hands?

Yes! I fondly remember the little cushion-like cotton “pillow” we also used for needling practice though in Japan we preferred softer fruit as our needles were so fine!

This question of sensitivity training is very difficult to answer in words. It would be obvious, but also redundant, to simply say that practice is the key here. But I do say it nonetheless, as I feel strongly that our schools in the US and Europe surprisingly places little emphasis on the role of practice outside the classroom. I have found that many students during their training seem to feel, or be led to feel, that they get enough practice in needle technique classes and in the student teaching clinic. The idea of regular daily practice of techniques outside the school setting seems either to have lost favor, or else is simply too much of a demand on already packed schedules. I can understand this, but cannot sympathize with it. In Japan, the most common form of continuous education is the “Study Group” which meets regularly and is attended by young and experienced practitioners alike, both before and long after graduation. Essentially these are ongoing “practice” sessions and without them, nobody expects to develop a higher level of skill.

This issue is simple, but profoundly affects what we do, and in my opinion it turns upon our very definition of the word “learning”. Though you or I might still, 30 years or more after high school, remember word for word a poem we learned by heart, body memories are much more transient in many ways. Manual skills such as acupuncture can literally be lost within a few months if we do not practice them in an ongoing fashion

Regularly practicing the skills you already possess is one suggestion, but always experiment and remain open to developing new skills. In Japan I was always struck by the degree to which senior practitioners were always trying out new things in the clinic. In that way, they seemed to me to embody the true spirit of empiricism!

Otherwise my formula for developing sensitivity has strongly been influenced by my training in Shiatsu. In Japan, to study acupuncture you must always study Shiatsu or Amma massage for at least 2 years. These disciplines are totally related. I remember once teaching a group of acupuncturists in the UK some Shiatsu. At the beginning of the class we did some meridian stretch exercises, I was amazed to discover that they had no concept that the meridians could be “stretched!” So yes, doing any form of hands-on work, preferably channel-based, is a natural and essential form of sensitivity training for the acupuncturist. I would say that all acupuncturists should have extensive body work training of some kind or another, not a few hours, but a few years!

Then there are the more indirect forms of training oneself to “feel” things. I mean meditation and martial arts for example. Again, no point in talking about these practices here but in my case, Zen training and a modest qi gong practice continue to contribute greatly to my ability to both quiet and focus the mind/body into a more finely tuned instrument.

As you pointed out in your question there is a significant difference between learning to sense and then being able to accurately interpret those feelings! That is often the dilemma facing many so-called “intuitive” healers – those who can sense extremely subtle levels of disharmony in themselves and others, but often lack or simply don’t pursue the type of disciplined training that allows them to rigorously and critically interpret their findings. It’s a little like the super intelligent kid at school who is far ahead of the pack but often gets bored or simply does not apply him or herself in any systematic way of learning. He or she may then not fully realize the potential suggested by their innate intelligence by failing to adopt and apply any systematic method of learning. It’s kind of a “nature/nurture” type of phenomenon, or as we say in East Asian Medicine: “pre- vs post-heaven.”

In many ways a valid question in regard to this issue of “making sense” of our sensory experiences in our practice might be: “Do we actually need to?” Or perhaps: “What could we/our patients gain from such understanding?” After all, in many if not all, healing traditions preceding the arrival of the post-enlightenment allopathic medical model, great value had always been placed on the ability of the healer to “sense” or “feel” rather than to “understand” disease.

In Japan for example, there has existed since the Tokugawa Era (Edo Period), a very strong and flourishing tradition of blind Shiatsu and acupuncture practitioners whose sensitivity is second to none (I have had the good fortune to have been treated by several during my years in Japan). A good example from the 17th century would be Sugiyama Waichi (1610-1694), blind from the age of 5, who is credited with the invention of the guide tube, numerous needling techniques and the systematic practical application of abdominal diagnosis based on chapters 15.16 and 56 of the Nan Jing. A more recent example would be Fukushima Kodo (1911-1992), blinded in the Sino-Japanese war in 1932, the founder of the Toyohari (lit. East Asian Acupuncture) Association for blind therapists, which has gained quite some following in the West amongst sighted as well as blind practitioners.

These two exemplary practitioners can serve in terms of their respective achievements in the field as a kind of summary of my thinking on this issue of sensibility and understanding in practice. Sugiyama for example developed a highly skilled sensory approach to palpating the skin, muscle, meridians, zones, abdomen and pulse which led to very concise and brief diagnostic questioning – useful for an acupuncturist whose work is so labor-intensive and not dependent on verbal interaction. As Mastrogiovanni and Kimura in their interesting article “Waichi Sugiyama Abdominal Diagnosis” (publ. Journal of Chinese Medicine, Jan.1988) observe: “Sugiyama’s system required considerable sensitivity, as well as an intellectual understanding of the model, and step-by-step procedure of diagnosing itself.” In other words– sensitivity and understanding. Sugiyama in fact was a “scholar of the three acupuncture classics, strongly Daoist in his philosophy of healing, his work shows the subtle influence of numerous Chinese masters.” (Ibid.)

Similarly, Fukushima, in addition to his clinical development of highly subtle non-insertion and off-the-body needle techniques was also a committed scholar, lecturer and author. In fact his two-volume Meridian Therapy: Traditional Japanese Hari still sells as a modern acupuncture classic.

To bring my thoughts on this issue to a conclusion, I would suggest the following:

1.    When “tuning in” as in touching or sensing an area or part of the patients’ physical body do not edit or judge. In short do not think.
2.    Try to include as wide a field of sensory findings as you feel you are experiencing – do not exclude ANYTHING. Trust is essential.
3.    Learn to develop a unique, personal internal vocabulary for these sensory experiences over time. Offer them meaning and credibility by giving them a name in your own lexicon.
4.    Do not use established diagnostic terms or frameworks for these findings at the moment you are sensing them as this will distort your judgment and bias your conclusions.
5.    Only when you have completed this process of sensory evaluation, then shift your focus to a more mental, intellectual level of functioning. Now it’s time to think.
6.    Use any and all theoretical paradigms that offer a framework for interpreting the sensory input you have just experienced. If the sensory experience does not fit the paradigm, don’t be tempted to tailor it accordingly, rather look for another theory that does offer a satisfactory explanation of the experience.
7.    Use logic, critical thinking and self-reflection in the process of interpretation and remain open to being wrong.
8.    In following this logic, commit wholeheartedly to the direction in which you are pointed, but with the knowledge that subsequent evaluation of the patient’s progress may require you to abandon your plan and create another.
9.    Be like the artist: alternately immersed wholeheartedly in the sensory process and occasionally standing back to reflect on the work from a distance. Sensory immersion has no perspective, which constitutes its strength. Yet in the clinical process it must subject itself to systematic evaluation and adoption of a critical perspective in order for there to be results that can be comprehensible to both patient and practitioner, which are potentially repeatable and not just spontaneous, intuitive or “magical”.
10.    Whilst there is no substitute for a Sensei 先生 (literally: Teacher or “one who has gone or been born before”) in guiding this process successfully, we are ultimately going to have to develop our own internal process of self-discipline and self-reflection. We alone are responsible in the end for responding to our thirst for professional self-development.

Interview with Arnaud Versluys, part two

This is the second part of an interview with Arnaud. Here we discuss the connections between “illness, pulse, presentation and treatment”,  more on the use of abdominal palpation, constitution, and the importance of matching presentation with prescription.
For those of you who live in the American midwest, beginning in February of 2011 there will be a special opportunity to study with Arnaud as he will bring his 10 month course of study to Chicago. This course, which is open to both practitioners and students of Chinese medicine, involves one weekend a month of classes. More information is available at the Institute of Classics in East Asian Medicine.

In your clinical reasoning, how do you synthesis the pulse, abdominal signs and patient’s main complaint?

The Shanghan Lun chapter headings are almost a mathematical code for our clinical work flow: disease, pulse, signs, and treatment (bing mai zheng zhi 病脈證治). One first establishes with which disease (病 bing) conformation one is treating. For example, if a patient is suffering from body aches and a floating pulse, then the disease is established as being a Taiyang disease.

But that information alone is not sufficient to treat with herbs since Taiyang disease has many expressions and treatments. As such one needs to look at the second and actually most decisive piece of evidence; the pulse (脈 mai). So for example, when the pulse is also soft or moderate (緩 huan), then one knows that the patient is suffering from Taiyang disease plus Wind Strike (中風 zhong feng). Here the outcome of the Taiyang disease of the Wind Strike persuasion is the treatment (治 zhi) with Cinnamon Twig Decoction (guì zhï täng).

Lastly, Zhang Zhongjing instructs us to reference the finding of Cinnamon Twig Decoction (guì zhï täng) with the primary symptoms (證 zheng) alleged to be treatable with Cinnamon Twig Decoction (guì zhï täng), for example stiff neck, aversion to wind, mild sweating, etc. This is done for two reasons. One, if one or more of these signs are present, then our therapy with the chosen formula has been confirmed. And two, investigating the accompanying symptoms will qualify and focus the treatment to be more comprehensive and appropriate. If for example a Cinnamon Twig Decoction (guì zhï täng) patient also displays signs of panting and chest fullness, then according to Zhang Zhongjing one needs to add Magnoliae officinalis Cortex (hòu pò) and Armeniacae Semen (xìng rén) to form the modification formula Cinnamon Twig Decoction plus Magnolia Bark and Apricot Kernels (guì zhï jiä hoù pò xìng zî täng). Undoubtedly, Cinnamon Twig Decoction can treat an asthma patient’s wind strike common cold, but Cinnamon Twig Decoction plus Magnolia Bark and Apricot Kernels will also address their tendency for asthmatic breathing, thus making the treatment more personalized and comprehensive. As such, the workflow is: disease (病 bing) plus pulse (脈 mai), qualified by signs and symptoms (證 zheng), equals treatment (治 zhi) with a formula (方 fang) and possible original modification.

If you wish to add abdominal diagnosis into this equation, then these findings would also be a part of the signs and symptoms (證 zheng) that will confirm or further inform the initially obtained treatment strategy. For example, the abdominal findings of tension and mild pulling in the erectus abdominis, or the present of mild abdominal fullness, might confirm either the basic presentation for Cinnamon Twig Decoction (guì zhï täng), or its modification with Magnoliae officinalis Cortex (hòu pò).
Many practitioners in the West think of the Shanghan Lun being used specifically for the treatment of acute illness. Recently, in Taiwan I came across a book from Japan that was very specific in the use of the classic formulas to treat chronic illness. They usually broke it into a three-stage process. First, treat the presentation; second, as the condition changes and the pathogen begins to move, treat what the presentation has changed into. Finally (usually) some kind of tonifying formula is used. What are your thoughts on this?

I do not believe that the Shanghan and the Jingui should be regarded as separate entities, the same way my left and my right legs are both mine. Shanghan or “damage by cold” is the old Han dynasty name for what we would now call “external contraction” (外感 waigan). As such, formulas of the Shanghan Lun can treat all illnesses that are caused by an external atmospheric or climacteric influence with which the body’s protective qi could not keep a balance. It does not matter whether this illness is still in its acute phase of less than 12 days or whether this illness has now become “stuck” in one conformation or more. The formulas of the Shanghan Lun re-balance the physiology of the body’s primary six functions, as they are abstractly represented by the six conformations.

When an illness does not originate from a purely climacteric condition with which the body could not maintain balance, and thus comes from a purely internal emotional cause that disrupted the function of its related organ from within; or a disease caused by a non-external/non-internal cause such as trauma, food poisoning, childbirth, etc, then the treatment will be recorded in the Jingui Yaolue. As such, when both books are studied together, the practitioner can treat any illness possible.

As for the example you bring up, I do generally agree with the workflow suggested. The exterior presentation of the illness is always conditioned by the internal environment of the patient. If a patient has Shaoyin yang deficiency, then that patient is very likely to experience Taiyang cold aversion. When a patient has Jueyin blood deficiency internally, then such a patient is prone to Shaoyang patterns when invaded by wind cold. The beauty of Zhang Zhongjing’s system is that this is already taken into account per the formulas. We do not need to second-guess this. And as such, indeed one has to treat the exterior presentation when an acute illness strikes and follow-up by stabilizing and rectifying the internal insufficiency or imbalance once the exterior condition has effectively been resolved.
What are your thoughts about constitution and the treatment of illness?

I think people have differing views on constitution. I do not regard constitution as something pre-natal, or genetic, simply because if that were to be the Chinese medicine concept of “constitution”, then I would have no way of ever making a difference at that level.

In my view, constitution is the interior condition of the solid organs, which store and supply the essential building blocks for life. In other, more Shanghan Lun friendly terms the constitution of a patient refers to the condition of the yin conformations. As I mentioned before, when a patient contracts an acute illness, the clinical manifestation will be conditioned by the interior state of these conformations. For example, patients with a weak Taiyin conformation and a tendency towards having abdominal fullness, looser stools, low appetite, and such, will upon exterior contraction of a Taiyang disease more often present with a Minor Bluegreen Dragon Decoction (xiâo qïng lóng täng) pattern, rather than for example a Ephedra, Apricot Kernel, Gypsum, and Licorice Decoction (má xìng shí gän täng) pattern. This is because of their lack of yang in the Earth domain and the presence of damp under the Heart. Thus, resulting in a wet productive cough, rather than the dry panting state of Ephedra, Apricot Kernel, Gypsum, and Licorice Decoction (má xìng shí gän täng) patterns. This goes for every conformation, and every formula. The Tian lineage of Shanghan Lun to which I belong has a very clear system of recognizing interior-exterior relationships between patterns and formulas, and it is something we use constantly in clinic.
Is there anything else you would like to share with our readers?

The study and practice along the classical tenets of the Shanghan Lun and Jingui Yaoyue is more difficult in the beginning stages than the regular institutionalized TCM approach, but in the long run everything is a lot easier and there will be nothing that you cannot comprehend and therefore treat. Just work hard and persevere and results will be guaranteed. Focus on the classics!

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