The Path to Holistic Healing

By: Tracy Hackett, AP DAOM

Female Trouble

The scaffolding was a motley structure that creaked and shuddered as I tiptoed across the clattering plywood sheets to work in my bare feet. It was my tenuous nest that supported my reach toward the heavenly spheres to see and to paint “the god”. It wasn’t an easy task to get it there. The Brahmin priests were dubious as to whether I had permission to access this mystical level and decided to throw a few monkey wrenches my way. They were none too happy that my feet hovered above the Vishnu shrine in the center of the temple, even while doing work within the purview the semi-divine.

Shoes are not allowed in Hindu temples and foot washing is typically done before entering. There is special insult that feet can cast by pointing them in the wrong direction, since they are the lowest and dirtiest part of the body. It is disrespectful to sit with your feet directed toward a teacher, for instance, or to indicate toward or touch something or someone with your feet. The very worst possible case would be to have your feet anywhere near or above the deity in a shrine. Yes, welcome to my world of no possible way to win on that point.

The head priest, Ayyar Swami, was a blue-eyed man with a smooth bronzed coffee complexion and very fine features under coifed white hair. He had been performing pujas (daily rites) in the converted Ayurvedic hospital temple shrines for at least fifty years. His wrought facial expressions and snorts toward me every time I passed made it clear that my presence was not welcome. I, of course, was totally unaware of all of the rules I was breaking and just thought he was senile. Then the priests sat me down, within my first few weeks of trying to get started, since my hard-headedness did not relent to their obstructions and delays for supplies and preparations. I was told “We have done the horoscope for this work and it is not auspicious. Perhaps you shouldn’t do this work. The time is not correct.” My response was “Well, my passport stamp gives me one year to finish this. If you want an unfinished deity picture hanging out in the main temple, that’s up to you.” “We are not concerned for this. Maybe you could get hurt or have some misfortune. We are concerned about that.” “Oh, I see. So the head swami who invited me to do this work is wrong, is he? He said that the timing was just fine. Are you saying he didn’t understand?” “Oh no! No, no, no, we are sure that he is right.” “Great, so the scaffolding will go up this week?” “Yes, this week itself your supports will be there.”

IST was the time zone I was in, but the actual name was “Indian Stretchable Time”. One week in rural India is equivalent to about two weeks anywhere else, if you are very lucky. The scaffolding eventually went up. I set to work and went up at 5 a.m. every day after my 4 a.m. yoga practice in the dark, but got into yet another tangle with my quiet routine anyway. Another thing frowned upon in a temple is a woman during her menses. They sat me down again. “Uh, madame, you know it is not acceptable that a woman go to the temple every single day of the month. You must take off one week every month.” I was not going to capitulate. I was on a schedule. “How would you know where I am in my cycle? Not every woman has one. Not every woman has bleeding for seven days.” The priest addressing me averted his eyes. “It is your honor then that will tell you when to stay out.” “So what is the problem with this anyway, especially since I newly find myself in the semi-divine category as well?” “That may be true, but the blood is a filthy thing and cannot be in the temple.” “Really? So are you saying that ‘the god’ puts a baby in some filthy stuff to grow up in the mother?” “Well, no, but it’s leaving the body, not being used, so it’s become filthy. There is downward energy with it that pulls down the sacred energy in the temple also.” “I see. Wow, that’s amazing this filthy stuff can defy the flow of divine energy like that with such powerful downward movement.” The priest smiled and shook his head with that special wobble many South Indians use to neither agree nor disagree, but merely acknowledge they heard you speaking. I then asked, “So, do you take a shit every morning?” He grimaced at my pointed question and grumbled. “Yes, I thought so. Now there’s some powerfully moving downward filth for you. So, if you will excuse me, I have some demigod work to attend to.” Some traditions are meant to be defied on their prima facie nonsense and inability to meet a simple Occam’s razor test.

The youngest priest, ThirumminiSwami, was a wild-eyed man with unkempt flowing black tresses and simple grace in his gait. His devotion to the Divine was carved in his very figure. He did the puja in the shrine of the pretty little temple I worked in every sunrise and sunset and during the day for many special times of the moon calendar in between. He never spoke to me directly nor through an interpreter, but he gave me blessings and prasad (consecrated sweet food) frequently. There is no mistaking a kind heart no matter the language. He was a beautiful person who was gentle towards me every single day and placed my daily flower gifts on the feet of the deity in the shrine with a smile.

By: Dr. Tracy L. Hackett

Pre-dawn I awoke into the inky, sultry breath of the Kerala jungle. I couldn’t see my hands in front of my face and eyes wide, I lifted them up to stretch inside of my mosquito net to remember where indeed I was and that I was still in a body. Haunting sounds of unknown birds and lions roaring reverberated across the nearby reservoir. It was hard to tell if they were near my door or below the balcony or miles away. My flashlight investigation confirmed that I had indeed left off in the same place my deep black-out sleep had started the evening before. Giant flying roaches, oversized fairy-like katydids, creeping stick bugs, hand-sized moths were all pounded furtively at the lifeless beaming light bulb screwed into the wall outside my door. Ducking through that, I made my way into the massive open-air meditation hall and practiced a taichi routine to settle my nerves and then some yoga as I waited for the sun to come up.

Eventually, people filtered into the hall for the morning meditation. Chai was served afterward and I began to get acquainted with the swamis and staff of the ashram. People from all over the world, and more importantly from all over India, came to this simple but sprawling sanctuary for retreat.

It was an idyllic setting, to say the least, and welcoming on all accounts (mostly), but I was filling a role that is normally reserved for upper caste males. My ignorance of this fact was short-lived as I set to work that very day. The priests did their level best to disabuse me of my assumption that this deity painting was perfectly fine in my capable hands. Those are stories are numerous and quite funny in hindsight, but for another time. The process of overcoming the cultural obstacles and finally getting the “scaffolding” up and the ground of the ceiling prepared took nearly three months and substantial negotiating efforts.

The temple that I was to paint was transformed with row upon row of sapling trees cut and roped together with jute line and topped off with 3/8” plywood sheets that teetered on the uneven tops. I had to mask a miserable fear of heights and figured out early that this set up was yet another tactic to deter me from my objective. The ascent to the top was a two-stage rickety mess of a thing. A hand-fashioned bamboo ladder with rungs too far apart brought me to a landing made of old doors, then a metal ladder of ½” rebar took me to my new worksite for the seven or so months. Since the plywood sheets didn’t cover the entire scaffold area, I needed to slide them around while up there and arrange them in overlapping configurations to prevent them from cracking and bowing as I stood and stepped. Most of the village men who were tasked at helping me prep the ceiling surface wouldn’t even go up there. The few who would ascend had ulterior motives that were not appreciated. at. all. Swatting advances, changing crew, and avoiding a 19’ fall from my perch turned out to be the least of my problems as my work commenced.

I had to work fast to get the 39’x17’ four-panel vaulted ceiling from its cob-webbed blank state into a painted celebration of one of the central themes of the Bhagavad Gita. The Vishwaroopa is the presence of Krishna that Prince Arjuna bore witness to after goading his mysterious friend and advisor to show him who he really was. The popular representation of this overwhelming revelation of divine power and majesty is a central figure with “honey-colored” skin, 19 heads that included popular Hindu deities and 22 arms each holding weapons. The deity image is obviously packed with symbolism, some of which I will go into later on. The rudimentary ceiling plan I had received from the swami/ashram director two years earlier had neglected to include the 5” planar gutter in between each of the panels. This required a significant re-scaling of the over one hundred scale-sized situ drawings I created from an elevation model of the ceiling I had made. They were meant to speed my process and ensure a reasonable degree of accuracy in the perspective shifts. My drawing of Siva now looked more like Elvis. Make a plan and the gods laugh.

Some symptoms of estrogen dominance:

• Breast swelling and tenderness
• Anxiety and mood swings
• “Fuzzy thinking”
• Irritability
• Fatigue
• Loss of ambition
• Slow metabolism
• Water retention
• Loss of libido
• PMS
• Weight gain
• Insomnia
• Thickening of endometrial lining, clotted menses
• Increased risk of uterine fibroids
• Increased incidence of ovarian cysts

Many of these symptoms are related to stagnation of qi, blood and damp against a background of qi or yang deficiency from the perspective of Chinese medicine.

For 25 years it was assumed by general doctors that women produced minimum amount of estrogen after menopause until research have shown different. Chinese medical textbooks states that yin becomes increasingly vacuous until a woman stops having regular periods. Before menopause women’s levels of progesterone decline, while estrogen levels remain stable or even increase. This leads to a situation where estrogen levels is high in relation to progesterone, which is referred to as estrogen dominance. The term estrogen dominance was composed by Dr. John Lee, who advocated for natural progesterone supplementation.

Estrogen is produced mainly in the ovaries and progesterone is produced predominantly by the corpus luteum. When the egg quality begins to decline in perimenopause, the quality of the corpus luteum also declines, leading to lower progesterone levels and relative estrogen dominance. Many perimenopausal women are periodically anovulatory, which means that estrogen goes unopposed during those cycles.

Another factor which become more prevalent over the last two decades is the amount of xenoestrogens we are exposed to. Xenoestrogens are found in everything from sunscreen to plastic water bottles, our water supply which contains synthetic estrogen because of the widespread use of birth control pills. Cooking with non-stick coated cookware and microwaving food in plastic containers releases xenoestrogens into our food.

In my practice I suggest a combination of diet and lifestyle advice along with acupuncture, herbs and supplements to help women achieve an appropriate balance between progesterone and estrogen as they head towards menopause.

And here’s some advice I give my patients when they ask me how they can help themselves:

• Take care of your liver. It is your best defense against estrogen dominance because it’s job is to eliminate excess estrogen. Minimize your alcohol intake and, to stimulate your liver, drink water with lemon juice first thing every morning. There are a few simple supplements that you can take just a few times per week to help your liver function at its best.

• Research endocrine-disrupting chemicals in cosmetics, processed foods, cookware, and cleaning materials and cut your exposure to xenoestrogens as much as you can. Look at labels, many chemicals in cosmetics are derived from petroleum products.

• Get rid of your plastic containers and plastic water bottles. Plastic is a petrochemical product and in part of its degradation process, off-gasses into water and foods.  Use glass containers and ditch your microwave. Cooking your fast or processed food in the plastic containers they were frozen in is non-nutrition.

Any questions you have about how you can rebalance your hormone health, set up a consultation with Dr. Hackett. We can go over your current labs, order new tests, and formulate a strategy for you to get back to feeling your best.