進入西雅圖
Nov 27th, 2006 by Michael Max
It’s raining.
And the water on the windows is painting a Monet portrait of Seattle.
A week of jetlag.
Digging through two months of mail.
Remembering to line up, instead of crowd.
Following Asian rules of spacing and distance often has me trampling on western toes. Readjusting to American rules and habits, leaves me feeling isolated and stiff.
Perhaps the jetlag is simply an artifact of having left part of my spirit in Asia.
It’s the polar opposite of being possessed.
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Returning to Yong Kang clinic though is a delight.
I’d forgotten how surprised Americans are when then they encounter a Chinese medicine clinic with an open door. Time for questions, and the ability to quickly get treatment with needles or herbs. It’s completely commonplace in Asia, and as yet, a bit of an oddity here.
The idea that you can get help, right now.
And from skilled practitioners.
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I remember evenings on Taipei streets, on the way to the Shabu-Shabu hotpot place. Walking by two different clinics. They were crowded as restaurants. Patients spilling out onto the street. Medicine there is not a private affair behind closed doors. It is part of the flow and weave of life. Not so much a private confession, as it is daily chit-chat. It’s less about shadows and more about recognizing life has it’s cycles and flows. There is a social aspect to it there. Less isolation.
There is something healing about that.
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