The other day a woman that co-refers and co-treats multiple patients referred to an herbal formula I had mixed as a “Dragon Potion.”

Dragon Potion.

As if the act of blending medicinally is somehow mythical in nature.

2 or more years ago, it would have felt like a personal attack. There would have been strong feelings to defend Chinese Medicine – like any of us possess the power to control something that doesn’t need defending, and shame, for not choosing a career more rooted in reductionism and the double-blind nature of science. This chosen path to medicine wouldn’t have felt worthy or legitimate.

I would, however, have sat silently in the back row, knowing that there was this depth and wisdom that she and so many others were missing out on. At the time this was perfect. I could sit in my air of specialness knowing that I had access to something profound. I must, then, be more evolved…right? All the ego boxes were checked and essence didn’t actually have to show up and do anything.

Present moment was filled with curiosity.

Why the need for a comment like this? There’s no felt sense that she looks down on myself or Chinese Medicine. There is a question as to whether the comment was rooted in a lack of understanding of this particular style of practice. What is it about a medicine so unpredictable and unknowable by western standards that it needs to be denigrated to mythical and uncivilized magic?

Why, in the face of the unknown is it so common to squash potential and newness?

I can’t speak directly to what may have been going on for her, but I imagine that it had something to do with a shared fear. The fear of seeming woo-woo. Fear of being curious about something that isn’t proven – yet – by science.

Fear of being judged.

It’s bothersome that this fear gets attention, that it even matters. I wish I was so evolved that your opinion of me and my life choices didn’t matter. Of course, mentally I know it doesn’t. But I can’t lie. The subtle nuances of anxiety are felt, in the solar plexus, in the chest, and in the throat. Denying the fear is doing life a great disservice.

There was so much distilled into that one moment. A comment made, evoking the fear that lies nestled within, a separation of connection and the collapsing of expansion and spaciousness.

All of that within the space of two words and 12 characters.

It’s astounding to see how interconnected language and meaning are. To feel into the tension as it arises. To stay curious, instead of collapsing it into 100 million ways to denigrate self and essence. To feel into the shadow that connects us, the fear in this case and the desire to belong. To feel into the preference for flow and ease. To see where ego would take this and use it to feel isolated and separate in the past and how parts of me still fall prey from time to time.

There’s no final lesson here. Just a continual unfolding.

If you are interested in learning more about the alchemy of Chinese Medicine check out this 6-week course.

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With love of the dark and the light within,