alive in america

West Meets East | An American Acupuncturist in China

By Kate Nott
Boulder, Colorado

Note: Kate Nott is traveling across China studying Chinese medicine as she completes the final phase of her training as an acupuncturist. Her journey has included time in Chengdu, Shanghai and Beijing. The following pieces are excerpted from her blog.

Self Sufficiency: An Oxymoron
(from March 1, 2007)

We all live in this world together, often pretending we are in control of our own destinies. That may or may not be true, but what is clear to me, especially when I travel, is how fundamental we are to one another's productivity, happiness, even survival.

I am essentially a big infant bumbling around this city. I can't speak, I can barely ask for things I need (including food), I don't know how things work, I have difficulty finding my way around. And yet, I feel like I am thriving here.

In almost every way I've needed it, there has been someone willing and able to help me. To find my seat on the train, to point me in the right direction, to help me mail a package, to recommend one food product over another. More essentially, to let me sleep on their couch when there was a glitch with my housing situation, to comfort me when I am overwhelmed. And all this with nothing to gain but a potential headache or delay in their own schedule, and often with a smile and an invitation for dinner or tea.

This is an extreme case, since I am so clearly out of my element, but it brings to light what is always present. As humans, we are completely reliant on one another. At another time, I would wax on about the interconnectedness of all existence, etc. which is still fundamentally true, but my point here is much more basic. We often think we are acting alone, going about our business, accomplishing the things we want to accomplish. But we use a tremendous amount of each other's resources to do so. Without those other people, let's say to bounce ideas off of, to bag your groceries, to maintain the websites you use, to make the clothes you wear, we would all be in sad shape. It is a natural and mutually-beneficial system that we have developed, with rewards for almost everyone, but even so, I am profoundly reminded tens of times a day here that it is important to be humble, and grateful.  So thank you to everyone and everything that has helped me get here. Which means everyone.

Little Slices o' Heaven (and some Chicken Feet)
(from March 6, 2007)

There have been a lot of good days in Hangzhou so far, and yesterday was one of them. I had a cup of coffee in the morning, which may have contributed to my euphoria, but I think that it is possible that I do really really like it here.

I had the distinct sense a number of times throughout the day yesterday that I was in Heaven. My friends who are also here practice taiji, and so I went with them early to the park by the lake and got a good lesson / practice session in. We actually missed each other at the time were supposed to meet, so I had some time to wander around the park by myself and it was really wonderful – an acute sense of being self-consciously foreign (or just as myself) while at the same time just enjoying feeling open to the air, the water, the spring blossoming trees and all the other people who were out and about in the early morning. We got quite a lot of attention as three white folks doing taiji in the park (maybe people were just noticing subtle differences in our form??), but it didn't bother me at all. 

The hot shower back at the hostel was the second taste of heaven – the weather is still chilly and buildings generally aren't really heated and are often colder inside than the outside air, so I feel like I have semi-permanent chill in my bones and on the back of hands these days. So, in these circumstances, standing under hot running water goes a long way toward contributing to the sense that I couldn't be happier anywhere other than right where I am.  It is possible that my personal Heaven might be a big hot showerhead.      

In the morning, I was scheduled for a lecture on the Nei Jing (Huang Di Nei Jing Su Wen), the "Yellow Emperor's Classic of Medicine" which is heralded as the earliest classic written work on Chinese Medicine (from around 220 AD, if I remember right), and I've heard it referred to as the "Bible" of Chinese Medicine. There are pretty good translations available, but it is very difficult to read, and I've never made it all the way through it. I've never studied it, and from what I could gather, the lecture was part of a Master's/ PhD program for Chinese/ Western students – about 12-15 total). I was curious to see if the lecture would be completely over my head - which I think it mostly was, but there were different levels to it, and I think I was able to relate to some of the more basic levels. But even so, just that I had access to such a class in English and an excellent teacher was amazing to me . . . so that was slice of Heaven #3. 

I had my first acupuncture clinic in the afternoon, which, although it didn't exactly fit into the heavenly realm, was really interesting. GB 39 to nourish the marrow for bone problems with the knee, lots of deep deep needling in the neck which I could barely stand to watch for ankylosing spondylitis, a very young boy with what sounded like either Tourrette's Syndrome or ADHD taking big needles very calmly. One of the Chinese students there wanted to see my needle insertion technique and then criticized it for not "properly" guiding the needle down my fingernail. I tried to explain that this is essentially illegal in

U.S. but I'm not sure if he could comprehend such a ridiculous idea as not touching the needle before you insert it.      

I had another interesting acupuncture clinic today – a doctor from a family of generations of doctors whose treatment method I could not even begin to understand in the few hours I had with him. He started with a lecture on the ba gua and 8 trigrams and used an abdominal acupuncture system which I have never seen before. I wish I had more time to study with him, just to be able to evaluate his methods more clearly, but I was really glad to see someone in China practicing acupuncture outside of the very Western medicine-ized model of Chinese medicine that has developed since the Cultural Revolution.

As a quick note, the herbal clinic I've been observing here has been much more similar to what I see in the States - doses of 3-12 g each on 8-12 herbs in a formula, with one packet usually taken over 2 days. I've seen some interesting  herbs used, and lots of "prepared" (wine fried, dry fried, charred, etc.) herbs. So the formulas are still really interesting, but I am a little relieved to see that herbal medicine in China is not all just "huge" doses like I saw in Chengdu.

Otherwise, the weather is getting just a little warmer, and my boyfriend is arriving in a few days, which adds to the Cloud 9 feeling.  I can't wait to share all of this with him and see and hear his impressions of everything.

Finally, as a side note, I also helped to order chicken feet not just once, but twice yesterday, which definitely DIDN'T fit into the Heavenly realm. The first time we thought we were getting broccoli, and the second time, I managed to ask what kind of meat was in the dish in the picture we were looking at, and when the server said "chicken" we said – "sounds good"… lesson learned.  Not much meat on them actually – really couldn't figure out what to do with them except chew on them.

Downtime | A Firefighter's Dispatch

By Anna Louise Pigman
Asheville, North Carolina

The alarm sounds.  I kick off my shoes and step into my boots, already strategically placed in my turnout pants.  I pull the suspenders over my shoulders and reach for my nomex hood in my pocket.  The hood goes over my head quickly, made to protect my head and neck from heat.  I grab my jacket and step into the truck in one quick leap.  We begin speeding through the streets, sirens blaring.

The next few minutes are a deliberate and calculated blur of motion.  I put on my jacket and make sure each section of my neck and arms are covered.  Not an inch can be exposed.  You never know when this could be “the big one,” the fire that is huge and hot and blistering, the fire that will be talked about for years to come.  I pull on my airpack, first tightening the right strap, then the left.  I shift my weight from side to side trying not to lose my balance as we race through the streets.  There’s no time to turn around and see where we’re going or what we’re pulling up to.  I simply check and recheck my air pack, my mask, and grab my helmet as I jump off the truck.

This is usually the image that comes to mind when people think of the word “firefighter.”  Big fires, lots of heavy gear, blaring sirens.  But rarely do they think of the downtime and what we do while waiting for “the big one.”  Through all my months of training this is the part that I feel least prepared for. 

I sit in the dayroom at the station, making small conversation and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.  I read my book and keep one ear cocked to the conversation going on around me.

Most of the time it’s about sports, construction work, tools, trucks, and fire department gossip.  But some days we switch on the evening news and the talk turns to politics, the war, and other national news.  At these moments my ears perk up out of pure curiosity about where my fellow firefighters stand on the issues.  The night that Obama announces for President, this news is met with skepticism by several of my colleagues. It’s clear he won’t be getting their votes. I say nothing.

I stand out here, as an out lesbian and a liberal. I tend to stay quiet when talks turn to politics, to just listen and take it in, to figure out how to be a part of this place. We are all firefighters and when we’re at a fire, sexual and political orientations don’t matter at all. But it’s in these quiet hours – which is how the bulk of our days and nights pass -- where the differences rise to the surface.

I spend my days trying to never let my guard down, wondering at what point it will get to be so much that I have to speak up. And when I do, how will I speak up in a way that deepens instead of severs the connections here.

I walk outside to sit on the front of the truck and look out the bay doors, just waiting for our next alarm.