Renewal in Nature

By Lise Alschuler, ND, FABNO
Vice President, Quality and Education, Emerson Ecologics


Photo by walknboston via flickr, under the
Creative Commons license.

As I sit looking out of my new window, or rather, the window of my new home in New Hampshire, at the early splashes of fall colors, I am elegantly reminded of the beauty and grace in this wonderful world. Nature, in particular, is such a resplendent display of richness, vibrancy, and creativity. I think, deep down, it is this intense celebration of nature that inspired each of us to become naturopathic physicians, natural product manufacturers, or holistic practitioners. I am convinced, in fact, that our individual and collective respect for nature is the main twine connecting us to one another. When I think about Nature, I think about the dandelions forcing their way up through cracks in the sidewalk. I think about the collective sigh from a grove of fir trees bending in the wind. I think about the sweet stillness of the sun setting over gently rolling hills. These recollections bring me into immediate presence – the beautiful here and now of this world. What a joy.

I know, without a doubt, that my inspiration from, and confidence in, nature and the beauty of this world is due, in large part, to being a naturopathic doctor. The philosophy and community of naturopathic medicine built and then buttressed my connection to nature. Without this medicine, I can’t really imagine how I would maintain my sanity in this chaotic world. Where would I be without my weeds, trees and sunset as equalizers? This gift – rich and poignant as it is- is a gift that is meant to be shared. How does one share a confidence and inspiration in nature? Quite simply by remaining an active part of the naturopathic community, the very community that builds this inspiration. I swear to you, that there is a direct and pulsating link between active membership in the AANP and being an inspired naturalist. Admittedly, I am biased by my own experience. I have been an active member of the AANP and volunteer in the naturopathic profession since my second year of naturopathic medical school. When I reflect back upon my volunteerism, every action – as challenging as they may have been at the time – solidified my belief in, and passion for, naturopathic medicine. Out of this passion, my love affair with Nature intensified and my sanity remained (more or less) intact. That is, perhaps, the most compelling and selfish reason for being an active part of the naturopathic profession. I not only admit it, I encourage you to take your share. Join, volunteer, gain inspiration, feel the tremendous vitality of this profession and of the stunning natural world around us.

Nature’s Way

By Bill Benda, MD


Photo by Rennett Stowe, via flickr, used under the Creative Commons License.

This article is reprinted with permission from the peer-reviewed journal Integrative Medicine: A Clinician’s Journal (www.imjournal.com), vol 7 issue 1, pp 64. Copyright 2008, InnoVision Health Media (www.innovisionhm.com).

My world burned on June 24th of this year. I witnessed its genesis on a beautiful Big Sur summer day, clear and warm, the Pacific luminescent in the afternoon sun. And then, from the north, 3 small, innocent, tumbling clouds, passing overhead barely noticed, until . . .

Boom. Five rapid lightning strikes: 4 over the ocean and 1 touching down half a mile south of my ridge. Ten minutes later, a puff of smoke. After 24 hours, 4 neighboring houses burned to the ground and I began what became a 7-week exodus from my home and bed. More than 200 000 pristine acres and 30 structures destroyed within a month, and nothing we humans, even with our sophisticated airborne fire-fighting technology, could do to stop the advancing flames.

And then, once we were finally allowed to return to our blackened homes, something quite strange and beautiful occurred. The smoke cleared, the ash settled, and the earth, instead of gasping in pain, began to breathe as it hadn’t in a hundred years. The sky acquired a blue not before seen by those now alive, and the coyote pups and fox cubs I feared had perished reappeared, thrilled with the epicurean fare now exposed on the barren earth. The land loved having been burned. It turns out only we humans had suffered from what was, in fact, the ecological equivalent of a good housecleaning. As the only species allowed access to the process of combustion, we were, ironically, the ones who suffered most from its ill temper. It turns out we have become so adept at fire suppression that we have interfered with Nature’s perfect means of clearing away the debris of her own life cycles. It took but 1 lightning strike to dissipate both our sense of security and our delusion of eminent domain.

Which brings us (at last!) to the topic of healthcare. Our media is laden with stories of epidemic obesity and hypertension and diabetes. But obesity, hypertension, and diabetes do not kill. Stroke and myocardial infarctions kill. And ketoacidosis. And sepsis. We, in our exuberance to suppress the unpleasant symptoms of chronic illness, have, with our pharmaceuticals and surgeries, allowed our own toxic accumulation of unhealthy protoplasm—cells and organ systems unable to breathe, to cleanse, to heal. The patient need not really pay attention to nutrition and exercise if a little blue pill can make the pain go away.

But when the lightning strike of a clot hits us or a bit of inflammation starts a forest fire, the results are catastrophic rather than merely inconvenient. We suffer a stroke rather than a little more senility. A cellulitis becomes sepsis.

Life’s disasters have a way of teaching us lessons that we, in our mortal arrogance, tend to ignore until painful remediation engulfs us. Some tutorials are of extraordinary value, such as the rediscovery of compassion that had been nescient until a friend faces heartbreak. Others are more poignant than tragic, as in the revelation that one really does not need and does not miss all that stuff in the drawers and closets.

But above all, through catastrophe we learn that we are not in control, no matter how powerful our war machines or how small our computer chips. Nature trumps all, and when she wishes to correct the insanity of our plans for her planet, we are helpless to stop or even slow her down. “It’s Nature’s way,” goes the old ’60s Spirit tune, “of telling you something’s wrong.”

Perhaps it is time to surrender back to Nature her thrones of omniscience and omnipotence. During some points in our lives, we must become ill. We must age. We must die. Our task as practitioners is not to suppress the symptoms of blocked arteries and failing memories but to clear the toxic load of adipose tissue and calcium deposits and free radicals that will feed the flames of an acute medical event. Most of all, it is time to come to the understanding and acceptance that we are not in control, and that, in fact, we would not benefit by being in control. Nature has given us the most advanced healing technology on the planet, one that has been perfected over tens of millions of years and needs only our respect and attention to function at top performance—our own personal human body.

It is time to stop interfering with the natural processes that possess their own timetable of living and of dying; rather, we should focus on lending support to a cycle we may not fully understand and may never fully accept. This life is not our life. It is but a beautiful, perfect cell in the organism that is our natural world, a place not ours to control but only inhabit. And when we do return to ash, we will assist the earth in breathing deeply, once again.