Finding Your Moxa
— By Tate Kauffman, MD, FAAMA, AAMA Board of Directors
For a number of my patients, treatment really begins as they come through the door of my office. They pause, deeply inhale the moxa and sandalwood, and smile. That aroma confirms that they have entered a space that is different than other medical offices.
I have always loved moxa, and I’m fortunate enough to practice in a setting in which I can use it. I like the quality of the heat, but also the smell, the glow of the roll as it’s lit, and the way the smoke curls and dances from the roll or cones. Sometimes I look at that curl of smoke and wonder what problems it’s carrying away with it.
Not long ago I received an acupuncture treatment, carefully and exquisitely delivered, with generous use of moxa. I use the word “generous” here quite deliberately, because what struck me more than just the warmth was the time and attention devoted to the moxibustion rather than to the myriad other matters that surely could have occupied the practitioner.
That time and attention devoted to those needles, to my treatment, was a gift. After that treatment I resolved to pay that gift forward, to spend a bit more time and give a bit more attention to the needles, to the patient. The extra heat on the needles is nice, but the very nature of moxibustion, of working with fire close to skin, forces me to slow down and be present with my patient. The patient (not the note, not my schedule, not a message from another patient) has my attention in that moment.
While I might have anticipated improvement in my patients’ satisfaction with their treatments and perhaps improvement in those treatments’ efficacy, I hadn’t fully appreciated how different, how much more peaceful and grateful I would feel when fully present with the patient and the energy of the treatment. The work becomes almost meditative. You see, I know that self-care is important. I understand the importance of better diet, of regular exercise, of taiji and chai tea. I wish that I could say that I consistently make time for these things, but, you know, life gets busy, and I suspect that I’m not the only one who struggles with this. I stumbled upon a way to work a bit of that self-care into my day-to-day.
I know that we can’t all set herbs alight in our offices, but that’s okay. Find your moxa. Find something in your practice that forces you to slow down, something that forces that presence with your patient and the task at hand, something that brings you that feeling of peace and gratitude. Perhaps for you it is cranial therapy, perhaps it’s careful pulse-taking or attention to the De Qi sensation.
What we do is so much more than a set of procedures. We have the privilege of being at the intersection of millennia of tradition and evolving research in areas such as epigenetic modification, vagal neuromodulation, and modulation of the gut microbiome. We are at that intersection with a community of dedicated and supportive colleagues, and AAMA is a big part of what brings and holds this community together.
I’m grateful for exciting, fulfilling work that helps me care for my patients and myself and reminds me why I chose medicine in the first place. I’m grateful for my colleagues and for this organization. We can each make our little corner of medicine work for us and for our patients. May we all find our moxa.
