The Need To Rest

At my mentor's suggestion, I drank Si Wu Tang - 四物汤 for a few days in late November to resolve some of my blood stasis and deficiency. It felt great, yummy, delicious, very nourishing. In my learning about herbs, I have always been and will always be my first test subject. This post is an account of some of what got stirred up for me by moving the blood.

In Chinese medicine, the concept of "blood stasis" refers to a condition where the normal flow and circulation of blood in the body are disrupted or obstructed.

Imagine your body as a network of rivers carrying blood to different parts. When these rivers flow smoothly, everything works well. But sometimes, something might block or slow down the flow in some areas. In the context of blood stasis, these blockages or slowdowns in the flow of blood can cause pain, discomfort, or other problems in specific areas of the body. Blood stasis can manifest due to various reasons, such as trauma, chronic illness, emotional stress, or poor lifestyle habits.

In the week of doses where I took the formula, my digestion improved dramatically, and the improvements have remained. The herbal formula nourished and enlivened my body's dark corners, but the other side of the coin is that dislodging stasis may create intense waves of emotion. I am now riding those waves and noticing that below the chaos is a quiet pool of silver water in which I see the moon of my life.

As this moon waned from full to new, I was feeling stuck. Sticky, my fluids' flows not flowing. How do I un-stick all this old stuff? The diaphragm and liver hold the old in their perpetual motion and coming to a pause shows off the sticky goop of uncleared energy. I've been running for months. In a moment of rest, the body reminds me that the pause is not optional. I try to breathe, my upper chest seizes up, wrenches my arms in unexpected directions. I get shown again all the violence I never asked for. From the medicine to the bullying. From the drugs to the derision. All the years of impatience, the shoulder girdle held on to all of it. Now a shockwave, the sheer force of the muscular compression unsettles my body's structure from the inside out. All the violence, stored it for safekeeping where the heart (心) and its envelope (心包) would not feel the wound. The waiting rooms, the arms chairs, the desks. Learning forward on the elbow to kill time. Killing time like that point+click adventure game that kept me hooked for years, chasing loot and levels over, and over, and over. Why? For what? To escape time.

Breathe it in, let it out, let it go. I've slowed down. I feel the wounds in my heart, in the heart protector, in their channels. I feel very old in this moment. Life seems like a long, long endeavour.

In these moments I remember to ask myself the question: "how can I give myself completely to great love for the benefit of all beings?" In response, I take stock of what arises, and slowly I am learning to disown any preconceived notions about my potential. I do not know where life will take me. I remind myself that Octavia Butler was right, and that god is change. Divinity is itself a process of becoming, mutating, iterating. I find god in movement, ongoing. When I surrender to the process and allow the act to transform me fundamentally, then I can rise from the ashes.

Staying on the path means giving up all semblance of "willpower" in the sense of 'it is my will to do this'--rather, to undertake the journey is accompanied by a relinquishment. I can direct my intention towards healing all day long, but what about complete, total surrender? What if what I'm doing is exactly what's meant to happen?

There is a cruelty to morning, its arrival. And a sweetness to waking swaddled in a friend's blankets, lovingly. The first snowstorm takes hold and covers Tiohtià:ke in white again. Giddy all of a sudden, the gleeful inner child reemerges. The seasonal ballads ring in my head. The final stretch of my foundational year of training has come to an end with the snow. Tired, drained, exhausted, void of energy. It's been a matter of adapting and rolling with what exists. That means not bothering with things that drain me. I am full enough of frustration without fighting any more petty battles. My concerns with the living and the dead are much heavier than I usually give them credit for.

I wanted to enter a sort of void period. Well, here it is. Practice is the void. I can keep my inner commitments. If I'm not overburdened, I may actually get to integrate what I've learned on a deep level. Reading a textbook of some continuing education I was considering, I realized I feel entirely unprepared. I don't need this. I just need a fulfilling vocation while I focus on healing myself. Congrats, Laure, you got it. I can read whatever I want, so I break out the books on field ecology. Braiding Sweetgrass,An Entangled Life. Personal tales of loving the natural world and being passionately fascinated by the stories of plants, animals, fungi. These stories are a balm for my heart in a time when I don't know what comes next.

Learning Chinese medicine only makes sense when I take it in the context of the wider world. I am not trying to become a doctor for profit. I am trying to learn about the practical applications of 養生 Yang Sheng, "nourishing life". This means living by the seasons. It means resting when I know it is time to rest. It means cooking for myself. It means enjoying the company of friends and lovers. It means heeding the song of my own heart and doing what brings me joy.

Today I am stardust noticing itself. Let off steam in the form of anger to make sleep possible. Spout a monologue of rage directed at specific people in their absence, to clear space for the foundation of hurt that has nothing to do with any of them. Find distinct needs inside the rage. Fall asleep exhausted, wake up having slept through the night. My stomach empty, my heart calm. I felt serene. Witness grief, the real root of anger: there are millions dying in cruel circumstances. I feel fragile to near-breaking and am supremely in need of a break. Take time away to reset perspective, reset, and review what has changed, is changing. How did this happen, how did I get here?

Over the years, I have learned to befriend my body. My body may be traversed by change without any effort on my part. The waves of time's flux are me. Maybe I'm surrendered to the way. Maybe I'm chasing need. Maybe I'm just feeling my way through the dark, blessed. Surrounded by allies to guard the inner journey. Safekeeping the heart that needs no protection, but needs to open to the world. Suffering is a human endeavour like any other. By suffering, I learn to live awake. I have no wish to dwell on the surface, forlorn, wondering why life is boring or drab. I feel called to continually challenge myself and plumb the depths of this embodied reality.

I took a pause at my mom's place. I stopped to get rest I could not find elsewhere. Here in her space, I'm left floating. Nothing to do but look at all this flotsam of my life. Fatigue and sorrow float on the surface of the pond-scum, and I wonder: are these a part of the crystal clear water? Pain is part and parcel, par for the course. We're all involved with it. It's just what humans are.

For months, I've known on some level that the pace and scale of my recent life has been far too big, too fast, scattered. Over the years, I've wanted to do it all at once. Become the best dancer, the most devoted student, the most prolific writer, the most educated academic, most sought-after photographer, most revered therapist, most worldly, most opinionated, most famous, smartest, better than everyone else. What if I took the time to heal myself, and allowed that quest, still, to guide me? I say enough. I have enough diplomas, enough careers, enough money, enough of everything I could possible need to live a good life. So what's missing? What is it that feels so hollow inside?

I'm a little sick right now. I've got a seasonal cold that chose its moment well. My body knows it has some time to rest and integrate. Now is the time. "Entering a void" was my stated intention for what to do after my certification. Well, I can do just that. I can notice my heart from this void, and listen to it. That's all there is. I have now obtained a vocation. Without a doubt, I will deepen my skills in healing medicine until my death. But my journey transcends lifetimes.

So I finally got a good night's sleep. Nourishing 精 Jing with food and thought. Sore throat receding. Energy returning. What is training? It is the repetition of motions that bring the body to adapt and re-organize itself at a cellular level.

I want to practice.