Ancient Medicine Modern World

江香上來
葉轉下去
大覺到處
秋門進入

There is a curve along the shoreline, just beyond the wharf where morning tourists pilgrimage for photographs, and not quite to the stone slab the river boats slumber the night. There is a small marble table, with stone stools, where you can scoop below the river’s water and gather the mountains on either side. It’s the perfect hidden eddy to practice Taichi.

Osmanthus floats its lily scent along the river nostalgic for a time when this bend of the stream was not on a map.

Last year a “clean up” committee torn down all the canvas awnings that gave West Street it’s Middle East bazaar and commotion. Word on the street then was they were making the street more presentable. But, I heard the whispers of how they wanted to destroy the current West Street and push the tourist development to other parts of town.

Yangshuo now sports five yellow cranes and a KFC. West Street houses some high class fashion stores and spendy tourist kitsch along with it’s restaurants which like children on dare, push their tables into the street. The poled bamboo rafts are mostly sporting motors now, and everywhere are giant green wrapped and scaffolded packages about to be opened in a Christmas like rush of commerce.
Yangshuo is not immune to the epidemic of development.

There are perhaps more English schools here per capita than any city in China. Students and young adults flock here for the 6 hours of class a day and evenings of hunting foreigners to pummel with their skill. Foreigners trade their mother tongue for room, board and a few RMB. It’s a motley crew and with rare exception have no experience with English, other than growing up with it.

It’s a constant bombarded of “you are an English teacher aren’t you? Hurt, confusion, and disbelief result from the “No, nor do I have any desire to.”

“But, why not?” intoning accusation, as if I’m being stingy and cheap for falling outside the Chinese bell curve for foreigners. What’s a foreigner good for anyway if they aren’t a foothold into a better life through English?

“I’m a doctor.”

In the past, hearing I study and practice Chinese medicine most Chinese are politely amused. I’m humored and encouraged, but they would rather see the hack down street, or persist in the belief that acupuncture is as fearful as a wandering ghost.

Perhaps there is a different gravity in my voice, after this past year of not just practice, but of building a thriving and unique clinic. It seems to give my words a weighty stability. Here in Yangshuo, I’m treating all kinds people. Needling those that have never submitted themselves to another’s needle, and handing out prescriptions like candy.

To my surprise, those prescriptions are being filled and taken as well. Now, I really want to stick around here a bit longer, to see how my new patients are fairing. Medicine is a conversation, and only becomes interesting after enough exchange to generate experience and meaning.