The following is an excerpt from the life and times of C. Biscuit, who left the confines of the cubical in March of 2010 to experience medicine firsthand, standing alongside farmers and local people working the land and living solely off the fruits of their labor. C. Biscuit has delved deeply into experiential medicine, which continues to evolve over the circadian rhythm of sunsets and sunrises, eagle cries, and the wild sighs of babbling brooks and river reeds.

So the day began rather… abruptly. Starting at 6:30AM and ending just after one, we culled 50 chickens, each of us taking turn to de-head, rinse, pluck, and then gut the animals. For me, the scene was intense: a flurry of feathers and fear, the writhing of last breaths and the holding of breath as I dismembered and cleaned all of 4 chickens. My friends cleaned about 7 to 8 chickens a piece, but I seemed to take longer, thoughtfully fingering my way through the insides, feeling the innards of warm, gooey viscera under nail and finger tip. The smell still clings to my calloused palms, and the blood still speckles my rubber boots despite my thorough washing.

This was not the first time that I had helped to kill and clean an animal. Weeks before I had watched the skinning of foxes, countless deer hide cleanings, and just two days before Justin (one of my farming friends) and I singled out the biggest bird to test for fattiness and readiness, and this first chicken killing experience was not nearly as streamlined as today; the process was scattered and took nearly three times as long. However, a lengthy and important explanation was given each step of the way so that I understood what was happening, as I was to perform this for myself in the future.

During this first chicken butchering exposition, the upturned hen was somewhat content with the process; it’s head protruding from the narrow end of the culling cone… seeming to listen to the instructions and the fate of her form after her death. Nonetheless, this thorough demonstration did not fully prepare me the autonomic convulsions of a decapitated chicken when I was instructed to grasp its rubbery feet and push downward into the cone with considerable strength nor was I fully prepared for the stench and filth of 50 chickens that underwent the same process.

The cleanup for the cardinal carnage offered me the most unusual memory, one that I’m sure will stick with me for years to come…. the quintessential gnarly moment of my day was the sound of 50 chicken heads slurping out of a 5-gallon bucket as their beady, upturned eyes stared blankly back at me with coagulated blood encircling their necks. I can honestly say that the heave-toss-splat into the compost bin was the oddest (certainly most stomach-churning) task I’d ever performed in my life. This profound episode caused me to zero in, take notice of how inexplicably surreal my life has become after living a mere two and a half months on the farm.

All my experiences with life, farm life, and such, I had never truly understood the role of death when it came to the food we all eat. Sure, on an intellectual level, it makes sense to choose meat products resulting from a happy life and if at all possible the animals were killed in a humane manner, but on an emotional level ‘killing’ never fully sunk in.

Ahh… so this is what death feels like. This is what the full swing of life tastes like: cuteness and cuddly giving way to top-heavy notions, then to end with a strange culmination of ‘this is really happening’ for predator and prey alike. Not to say that all animals go out with a confusing bang, I know I tried my best to hold each bird that I selected with compassion and grace, keenly aware that I was sharing and in charge of its last moments. I tried my best to be tender, yet firm; cautious, yet discerning; and to tune into the experience full throttle.

Before I lived on the farm, I never sought to kill anything, be it insect or animal; in fact, I avoided the whole notion all together, somehow maintaining ignorance of the fine line between life and death. And here I am, 31 years into this experience called life, and I’m just starting to understand a truer sense, a quiet humbleness of the contact between a healthy food source and the sustenance for my being.

Yes, it has something to do with eating, but it has more to do with an understanding of a full-circle completion. I am participating in a crescendo of cause and effect, watching the ebb and flow of vital force, and honoring my food in its life form as well as upon the dinner table. Not many Americans have an opportunity like this one, and I think it’s something that only a small gaggle of die-hard Americanos will sign up for. Regardless, the syrupy snag of playing chicken with death’s dance can shape a greater sense of respect for food and life, especially performed in context with supportive community. And, more importantly, I have gained a deeper reverence for the life force within each of us, our food sources, and the rolling tug of life’s last breath.

Home is the place where Rico dwells.

Rico is the Carpenter family dog, an obese, green-bean loving golden retriever. With the various animals that have come and gone, Rico has been a constant. If there is any rule that has stuck with my family throughout the years, it is that Rico stays with the house. My brother’s and I have called dibs on various critters- a few interesting finds, a handful of oddly shaped dogs, a couple of kitties, and even a semi-domesticated duck that loved nothing more than to sleep on your bed snuggled up with your toes. These beings have found themselves all over Texas, but Rico remains in the Carpenter quarters.

Rico spends about 23.5 hours a day curled up on his bed. With the exception of a visit from one of the old kids, he only wakes for his peanut butter coated meds and the mailman. My beloved soul brother is in his last days. Though his giant cow body gets tired and his hips give way too easily, when we come home, we seem to spark a memory of canine youth and Rico is able to go on walks again or wake you up at 2 am to play the slimy rope game.

I was visiting home recently. My morning routine included laying with Rico on his pallet that is perpetually covered in his red hair and smells of his toxic pheromones. I curled up on his whiffy blanket with my morning coffee and stared at his graying face and cone-shaped head. He has embraced a strange, mysterious quality with his age that leaves me questioning the inner-workings of his mind. I can’t help but be left with the feeling that his beautiful dog-brain is filled with all sorts of esoteric thoughts, realizations that are beyond my understanding or that he is experiencing something profound, a kind of melancholic gentleness. Maybe it’s wisdom or sadness. Boredom, perhaps? As I lay down looking at my furry friend, I think back on his life and am warmed by the memories. Rico co-starring in a performance of the Miracle Worker, chasing police cars, Easters at Oak Lake, sick days he would lay by our side on the pallet in the living room floor. A week before Christmas he would dig his presents out of Mom’s closet. Throughout the periods of seemingly insufferable teenage angst, he was always there serving as a constant source of love and brightness that never ceased to unite our family. He flat out just makes the world a better place.

There is a profound warmth and incalculable gentleness that seems to exist in these inter-species companionships. It is this unique connection that makes me feel humble in the face of the big mysterious question mark of the universe. When confronted with the healing presence of an animal, I am warmed by a sense of hope for the world. Comforted and inspired, I feel suited to become the person I aspire to be and am eager to make the world the compassionate, responsive place that I yearn for. My heart softens. All can be forgiven. Love will prevail! It is quite dramatic actually.

Excusing my unabashed sentimentality, I am not alone in thinking that there is a unique healing power that accompanies an animal’s life. The strong emotional response that is elicited by animals merely serves as a testament to the all-around positive vibes that four legged beings provide. The ways in which animals participate in human healing are vast and innumerable, not to mention exciting. Equine therapy is being used in various parts of the country for adolescents struggling with eating disorders, children with autism, and individuals who have a physical disability. I’ve been hearing more and more about prison-based dog training programs. Within these programs, certain inmates are given the opportunity to train dogs that would otherwise be held captive in animal shelters. Once trained, the dogs become more adoptable, which is causing fewer stray pups to be put to sleep. A few programs are even training service dogs, which are always in high demand. In addition, the trainers are getting to experience an incredible sense of companionship. They are given an incentive to do better and learn valuable skills that can help them find jobs in the future. I’m reminded of the old adage; the only way to help yourself is to serve others. Put your energy into loving a dog and amazing things seems to happen.

This healing isn’t exclusive to humans. I’m sure many readers have heard of Tarra and Bella at the Elephant Sanctuary in Tennessee. The story made a debut on Oprah and the touching friendship inspired a childrens’ book, written by Carol Buckley. The farm sanctuary is a retirement haven for female elephants in need of a better home. Tarra is a 36 year old Asian elephant. Bella is dog. The two of them are apparently inseparable. They eat, play, sleep and roam the land together every day. A few years ago, Bella had a spinal cord injury. Unable to walk or even wag her tail, she was stuck in the office so that she could recover. Instead of tromping around the 1800 acres of land, Tarra waited outside the office for three weeks, apparently concerned about her missing comrade. One day a faculty member carried Bella out to the balcony to see her concerned friend. The sight of her old partner in crime made her tail finally begin to wag. She was carried down to meet Tarra who was squealing in excitement and proceeded to pet her furry friend on the belly with her enormous elephant foot. They met like this every day until she healed.

When we become heavily absorbed in the busy-bodied lives we lead, it may be easy for us to lose sight of our potential. With all the corruption and sadness that we encounter every time we turn on the news, it becomes difficult to face the day with a sense of hope and excitement. For this disheartening predicament I recommend my most favorite remedy: animal time. Whether it is taking your pup on a W-A-L-K or napping with some kitties, I’m certain your day will look a little brighter. I know that anytime I become disenchanted with the current happenings, I can curl up with an old furry friend and be grounded in goodness of the world and in all the potential that merely believing in goodness creates. Thanks again, Rico. It’s been a blast.

(Straight from the horse’s mouth: An open C. Biscuit letter for singer, song-writer & musician, Bob Dylan)

Mr. Bob Dylan,

Now, I know you’re not likely to come across my meandering thoughts on your own, but it feels right to put them out there… into the ether of the internet, thinkin’ that somewhere, someone oughta be hearing these thoughts. So here goes, nonetheless; perhaps this will get others to thinkin’ that there are other ways of livin’ and bein’ in this world.

I just finished listening to your recitation of “Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie,” and it’s left me with a few thoughts of my own. Those kinda thoughts that, if you let them sink in, they start to unsettle the nerves if you let them run too deep. It got me to thinking about our latest legislative actions for health care reform. Now it sounds ideal on paper that our great Nation has finally devised a way to solve our health care woes, but the more and more I look at it, we’ve come further from the truth.

Our systems of health care are based upon sickness, palliating the symptoms and grossly overlooking the root causes of disease and suffering. We’re well on our way to building a sick care system, not a better health care system, and we’re all being forced into it whether or not we agree with the newly proposed, now legislatively mandated changes. Not to say that I’ve got it all figured out, but it seems to me that working through structures like insurance and pharmaceuticals falls far from solving our current predicament. In fact, I believe that these groups stand to benefit the most monetarily leaving our citizens with empty pockets and even poorer health to boot.

It’d be nice to see that the freedom of choice rings true, especially for those that proactively work with preventative health.

I’m not sick, nor do I have an overarching condition that I’d like to fix. I prefer to focus more on the maintenance side of things and would like to stay healthy. And the way that it stands now, if I see a doctor, my doctor can’t check a box for wellness or nutritional advice on the ICD-9 codes that insurances use to reimburse funds because these codes are classified solely by ailments. What if I use monthly massages to keep my muscles, mood, and circulation regular and right? If I eat healthier food choices like organic vegetables or grass-fed beef, which are oftentimes more expensive than their lesser counterparts… can I claim those health-giving choices on my insurance? Unfortunately not… and that got me to thinking: how’s a person supposed to stay healthy if our newly instated and mandatory insurance doesn’t even cover these sorts of preventative costs?

Moreover, if my doctor does provide ‘evidence-based medicine’ as defined by models aptly created and standardized by insurance and pharmaceutical companies, then I have to pay out-of-pocket anyway. Why doesn’t an insurance company bother to ask me if the care I’m receiving makes me feel better… is that form of evidence not up to their standards? And if I saw a doctor too long for the same condition, the insurance people start to thinkin’ that I’m taking them for a ride or something, when the fact of the matter is, it takes time to heal. It’s like all that money we collectively invest isn’t available, and I gotta fill out all these confusing forms to prove that I need the doctor’s help. The stress alone for filing insurance claims puts my head into a spin.

And those doctors who take insurance? They get hassled by insurance companies, too. Submitting bills over and over again, just to eventually get a meager paycheck. Man, I tell you what, if we vex our doctors any more, there ain’t nobody that’s gonna want to go to school for the medical profession ever again and to knowingly buy into and work for our broken health care system. I mean, who in their right mind would waste four arduous years in medical school to hassle with student loans and then with insurance companies just to keep their doors open and food on their family’s table?

And the myriad of side effects from pharmaceuticals drugs that we swallow in hopes of a foreseeable cure… the catchall approach to our current conventional system…. aren’t all doctors sworn to perform their duty under the direction of the Hippocratic Oath to first do no harm to their patients? Am I the only one that sees the fuzzy logic on prescribing synthetic concoctions… let alone on top of other prescription drugs? Side effects are not normal, nor should they be tolerated, they are the result of poorly applied medical techniques. Safer alternative options do exist and they are much more cost-effective, and more likely to treat the underling cause of disease, thereby saving money in the long run, too. Why don’t we have greater access to these safer options across the Nation? Talk about a biochemical cocktail lobotomy, who’s making up the rules anyway?

It just doesn’t make any sense, that’s all. I’m not sure why more people aren’t catching on, and asking questions when our monthly health care costs more than the food on our tables… and a great deal of us don’t even have access to fresh food. It seems kinda backwards the way we’re restructuring our health care system, and now we have to pay for it regardless of its glaring discrepancies. Now, I may be right or wrong, but I’m wondering who’s providing our legislators with all the misinformation. And not to place blame on anybody (maybe our legislators really do think from the bottom of their hearts that our latest step for health care reform really is the best thing), but in the very least, I’d really like to see a helluva lot more diversity for preventative care and coverage. The paper mache steps we’re making for health care reform remain way off target for the protection and maintenance of health, and it doesn’t take rocket-medicine to figure that out.

… <sigh>… You know, I’m sorry Bob… I guess you’d rather get a fan letter that says, “you changed my life for the better.” Which you have, I assure you; your music and words speak from the depths of your soul; speaks plainly about the good, bad, and the ugly. And I know on some level you must be tired of this fame-business, but I just gotta say…

Thanks for writing “Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie.” Woody Guthrie was (and still is) a pretty inspirational man. To unflinching speak truth is the mark of a genuine artist and a decent human being and that last thought applies to the both of you. I just wish to god that we had a little more commonsense in those that run the show up on Capitol Hill; they truly seem out of touch with basic normalcies of society, rantin’ and ravin’ and playin’ with our hard earned money…. And I appreciate that your words, even 30+ years later, makes me think about all this. Thanks for keeping it real, Bob; it does a world of good in our rather pigeon-holed world.

Sundown in the Grand Canyon,

C. Biscuit

And to those of you out there that are still reading on, itching to see what it was that I just had to convey to Mr. Dylan… I’m not necessarily hopeless, rather if I could build a perfect sandboxed world, I’d suggest to each and every one of you to put your money where your mouth is, start buying back health care through local organic food. Cleaner air and water would do us all a world of good; seek out methods to make both better in your neighborhood. And chances are you’re working too hard, invest in yourself and treat yourself to a good massage once and while, you deserve better.

If we collectively begin building in a more sensible direction, I guarantee better health for us all.

We are excited to report that NCNM students are taking to the Internet with a host of delicious videos. Delicious videos, you say?

Yep, and with extraordinary style…!

Bob’s Red Mill and Northwest Naturopathic Physicians Convention (NWNPC) teamed up with a rather ingenious suggestion for NCNM students: make a video about grains and get a chance to win some scholarship moola. It’s called the NWNPC: Home of Bob’s Red Mill Intercollegiate Cup. And it’s not a small dollar amount, first prize is $5000, second is $2000, and third rounding out a nice even thou’!

We at the Helfgott Blog are pleased to see our creative and intelligent students take to the center stage. The entries thus far are incredibly funny and insightful. Packed to the gills with educational information about grains with healthy doses of cooking tips.

If you’d like to learn more about other forms of grains you can add to your palate, take a gander at these Bob Red Mill videos. And if you’re feeling spicy, any of you out there can vote on them, too!

This scholarship opportunity affords and even bigger opportunity for NCNM students because of its easy-to-access medium: YouTube. We’ve all prowled YouTube’s content, now, with the advent of informative info-spots, NCNM’s students redirect the conversation of health back to the belly. You are what you eat, so they say, why not make the most of what you digest, choosing power-packed grains (among a multitude of other fresh foods) could save you a trip the doctor’s office.

Need we say ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away?’

And it’s not too late to enter! The deadline to submit your video is March 23rd, 2010. If you’re an NCNM student and want to YouTube about the goodness of grains, click and discover how easy it can be to subsidize your educational experience or in the very least give you a sizable sum of pocket change.

NWNPC will host and display the video finalists during its conference on Saturday, May 8th, 2010  in Portland, Oregon.  NWNCP will allow the student finalists to attended the conference for free, and will  feature the scholarship competition prominently in advertising and promotion,  including the event at a prime time slot in the program. What a great way to show support for natural medicine students!

Congratulations to all the students who enter, even if you don’t win, just think of the ripple effect that your insightful information will have on the viewers at home. Kudos! We are proud of you!

Those of us who recognize that humankind is at a crossroads, and that we must make substantive changes now if we are to survive as civilized creatures, are often faced with doubt, wondering, “What can one person do?”

We have all heard the quote from Margaret Mead about “a small group of thoughtful, committed people” being the only thing that has ever made change. While it may be inspirational, how realistic is it?

I recently had the pleasure of hosting the Wednesday Morning Talk Radio program on KBOO Radio.

My Guest was Rick North, the Project Director of the Campaign for Safe Food, which is a project of Oregon Physicians for Social Responsibility. In that capacity, Rick has traveled the state and the country in efforts to raise public awareness of recombinant bovine growth hormone (rBGH) and to get food companies to refuse to use it in their products, primarily by educating food producers, and by mobilizing consumers to make companies aware of consumer preferences.

I have known Rick since the time, 7 years ago, when he created the Campaign for Safe Food. I have watched (and sometimes helped) as he developed science-backed and well-reasoned arguments for avoiding rBGH, mounted educational programs for the public as well as for producers, and conducted postcard campaigns to let producers know that the public was concerned. (You may have heard of rBGH by its other name, recombinant bovine somatotropin, or rBST.)

And today, we can all feel secure that all fluid milk processors in Oregon and Washington are rBGH-free, and almost all processors of other products too, and producers across the country have followed suit.

Rick has also been instrumental in preserving the right of suppliers across the country to label their products “rBGH free”.

Rick did all this and on a minimal budget.

Certainly he had help: The very existence of the program itself was due to the support of Oregon Physicians for Social Responsibility, and its board and staff, in particular their science advisor, Martin Donohoe, MD. Rick is quick to point out that he has had the support of about 40 advisors from all over the country – physicians, dairy farmers, processors, retailers, activists and more. That without this vital support there would not be these wonderful results. And without the countless volunteers and supporters who mailed in postcards and informed retailers, and did countless other small actions, none of this would have been effective.

But they did not organize themselves. They did not mount an effective effort to remove rBGH from our diary products before Rick came along.

At the core was one person: Rick North.Rick took his passion for safe diary products and made it happen. Never doubt that one person can make a difference. Rick did. So can you.

Find your passion, and make it happen. Like Rick, be the spark for another group of “thoughtful, committed people” who make change that matters.

What do you think?

A few months ago I unexpectedly found myself gathered around my boyfriend’s grandmother’s kitchen table, munching on dosas and chutney with an anesthesiologist. Ever since I’ve been digging my brain into the tortuous research issue that I am often confronted with when one discovers that I am studying naturopathic medicine. I’d dreamed of this moment for a long time; the moment where I would, by happenstance, find myself at dinner with a doctor where we would both discuss our philosophies and listen to each other with sincere interest and appreciation. The doctor would be taken aback by my verbal fluency and savvy medical knowledge, and after hours of meaningful conversation when we are parting ways, the doctor would walk away having a new found respect and understanding for naturopathic medicine.

This isn’t quite how things went down.

Understandably, and quite respectfully, this doctor had a plethora of questions as to what role naturopathic medicine has to play in this modern era. He admitted his doubt and his skepticism, both qualities which I consider necessary for any doctor, scientist, philosopher, or human attempting to expand their understanding of the world to which we belong. Contrary to my fantasy dinner, his skepticism seemed to create a harsh, dismissive tone and made it difficult for me to trudge my way through the conversation with the poise I had imagined. I was intimidated and overwhelmed. It seemed that questions were being thrown at me at a pace that was too fast to give a fulfilling answer.

With each question I was scrounging for the correct words and self-assurance to provide this doctor with the explanation that he deserved, the explanation that anyone who is inquiring about this affective, gentle, holistic philosophy of medicine deserves. After about fifteen minutes, the doctor bid his farewell and I was left humbly at the table perplexed, wondering how I could have better handled that treasure of an encounter.

Though Emerson boldly pronounced that “to be great is to be misunderstood”, I felt like this was a cop out in my situation. The most frustrating aspect of this encounter was my inability to express what I know is indeed expressible. Since that dreary December evening, I’ve made it my mission to understand how to convey the gentle, tenacious, credible nature of this medicine, and in particular, the research “issue” revolving holistic health care.

What is this research issue anyway? The question I find that I am most often confronted with by medical and scientific professionals concerns our relationship to the Randomized Controlled Trial (RCT). The RCT is a kind of omniscient force within the health care industry and is definitely held as the gold standard within the conventional medical community. Therefore, my first aim has been to understand RCT and how it relates to naturopathic research. Thus far in my research-issue exploration, I’ve learned that the RCT is indeed a cherished asset to all medical fields. It is with this type of study that we have been able to infer causal relationships, test the efficacy of therapeutic interventions, and, when performed correctly, RCTs have an effective method to control for research bias.

So why is the RCT not held with the same esteem within the naturopathic medical community? In regards to holistic medicine, it is the exclusive nature of RCT upon which we base medical intervention that is the problem. RCTs isolate a single variable to fix a single problem of a very complex system. It has undoubtedly been advantageous in testing the effectiveness of that isolated variable on a specific mechanism. However, it is inherently against the philosophy of naturopathic medicine function in this way. Naturopathic medicine is a whole systems approach to health care and this form of study is not reflective of that philosophy. This is not to say that we should not test the safety and efficacy of our methods, we are just requiring an exhaustively comprehensive method of testing our interventions.

While the RCT takes into account a single variable, the holistic model aspires to factor in the doctor-patient relationship, the patient’s family, personality, sense of well-being, emotional state, spiritual life, diet, stress, sense of self, and the list continues…. Isolating a single factor, as in the RCT, simply isn’t enough to capture all the humanity in our patients. This type of research design treats participants one of two ways. In naturopathic medicine, there is not necessarily a single standard of care for a given ailment. An individual may leave the doctor’s office with one treatment option while another individual with a seemingly similar diagnosis will leave with a completely different treatment plan.

I believe the naturopathic research community is proposing a balance between the preponderate RCT, inclusion of other studies, and development of a type of whole-systems study design that encompasses the true nature of holistic medicine. It is important to remember to not throw the baby out with the bath water. Despite the RCT’s limitations in regards to holistic medicine, there is a reason it is held with such high regard in the conventional medical community.

Though all designs will innately have their own shortcomings, I believe that if we are approaching research with integrity, solidarity and the wholehearted intention of forming a better world, we are on the most auspicious path.

As health professionals and researchers, we bear a responsibility to keep medical practices pure, beneficial, and altruistic in nature. Therefore, we must be willing to forgo our pride, cooperate with one another, and see our shortcomings from a brave perspective so that we can progress on our path to excellence, understanding, and unity.

I hope that in future encounters when I find myself munching on dosas with a doctor or any other inquisitive individual, I will be so dignified as to honorably share the philosophy of naturopathic medicine while respecting my counterpart in conversation.  I will accept the constructive criticism, especially if its intent is to make our health care system better, and to always remember that behind our arguments and differences, we’re all people.

Musicians are impressively able to interpret a vast sea of information from internal and external cues, and then weave it into an experience for others to enjoy. But how is this possible?

Have you ever stopped to wonder how musicians get their ideas? The ability of the brain to make sense out of nonsense is truly an art form.

Every great musician possesses the ability to read or understand underlying musical harmonics, the inflection and structure of sound. Most musicians start with the basics, the known building blocks, applied on a conscious or subconscious level. A rather tactful example of this is Danger Mouse’s Grey Album, where he successfully integrates two distinct genres of music, present-day hip-hop artist Jay Z’s The Black Album with select sounds bites from The Beatles’ White Album. Danger Mouse sampled pieces of music, speeding up tempos and overlapping patterns from an existing medium in a quite ingenious manner. One of the reasons why Danger Mouse pulled off the task so elegantly was through the use harmonic structures from each respective album, relying upon a basic backbone comprised of complementing sounds and rhythms.

Songs stylishly fashioned upon elementary construction require an acutely perceptive artist, one who knows the codes of musical composition. This knowledge can be based upon different abilities derived from circumstances such as hours upon hours of piano practice; a collection of alphabetized LPs that continue to earworm in and out of your head; or an exceptional innate talent, such as Beethoven.

Either way, musicians possess the ability to prepare, interpret, and understand these basic construction tools. So when musicians get together, this universal structure for communication literally allows them to speak another language, conveying thought and emotion, predicting and playing off each others patterns. It’s like a conversation between people, only words are not used, rather instruments and notes are the medium of dialogue.

Turns out, the structured aspects of music, such as octaves and harmonics, are akin to our language skills in the brain. Neuroscientists, or people who study the brain, are particularly enchanted by the musical muse and are actively refining and defining how musicians create new material. The unlikely pair has teamed up in the laboratory setting using fancy, hi-tech machinery in order to uncover how the brain is able to cut through the noise and chaos to create a song, and well… do it with style.

Neuroscientist Dr. Charles Limb reports that the areas of the brain, which become active for improvisational jazz pianists, are the same areas that light up when complex language is used. This area of the brain is known as the prefrontal cortex and is located just behind your forehead. Despite the excitement from the scientific spectrum, this rather bland description does not adequately give full justice to the experience of musical perception and participation. For me, a blip on a brain map seems somewhat after the fact… the ‘how and where is music downloaded?’… is the other half of the equation that remains to be solved.

Legendary music contains a creative edge that digs deep into our souls and goes beyond just playing the same old song. A lot of passion gets put into music, perhaps it’s the  exploration of the unknown, pushing past the usual tones and the status quo. The creation of music also has a great deal to do with building off the old, adding improvisation into the medium, in essence adding different perspectives on top of or inspired by previous musical renditions. Not to mention the ability for a musician (or any artist for that matter) to be in the moment acting as a conduit or an interpreter for that exact derivation of time. The whole equation– if you really think about it– is pretty profound.

Visionaries in the fertile fields of music are not afraid to tread upon new ground, define boundaries in the chaos of musical notes craftily designed to reshape our minds. According to James Lincoln Collier, author of “The Making of Jazz”, jazz is essentially a musical experiment, in search of the new and striking discoveries, adding and subtracting on top of existing permutations. An unspoken language that is created on-the-spot is described as improvisational, or spontaneously created without preparation.

Neuroscientists and musicians alike can see a similarity for the language of music, it is built upon two factors: structure and potential. Brain activity reflects just that, yet current research still does not adequately describe the illusive muse, and maybe none of it originates in the fatty tissues of the brain anyway, rather our brains are the mere records of our ethereal dances. Musicians are perhaps more akin to philosophers, taking the abstract and formulating auditory patterns from its chaos rather than volumes upon volumes of quizzical wordplay. Either way, it’s pretty interesting to think about how communication, be it language or music, can excite the same neurons and insight new parameters of thought and tempo.

_____________________________________. .. . . .. . . . . . .

Limb CJ, Kemeny S, Ortigoza EB, Rouhani S, Braun, AR. Left hemispheric lateralization of brain activity during passive rhythm perception in musicians. The anatomical record. Volume 288A; Issue 4; p 382-389. 2006.

Limb CJ, Braun AR. Neural substrates of spontaneous musical performance: An fMRI study of Jazz improvisation. PLoS One. 3(2): e1679. 2008.

Neuhaus c, Knosche TR, Friederici AD. Effects of musical experience and boundary markers on phrase perception in music. J. Cognitive Neuroscience. 2006. March; 18(3): 472-93.

Robertson P. What is a Musical Genius? Clinical Medicine 8:178-81. 2008.

Sieborger FT, Ferstl EC, Cramon DY. Making sense of nonsense: An fMRI study of taks induced inference processes during discourse comprehension. Brain Research Vol 1166. 29 August 2007, p77-91.

Yep. The rumors are true; yours truly has decided to plant her roots in a sunny location with views of the ocean, embedded within 300 acres of pristine forestland and old-growth citrus and avocado groves, tending to the needs of poorly understood words and propped up ponies. My educational experience at NCNM continues to foster new growth and direction for me, yet the arrow shoots outside the confines of my cubical (or for you long-time readers: my inspiratory), literally moving me to modify medicine outside the box.

My last day at Helfgott will haphazardly fall somewhere within the first week of March, and, yes, you could say I’m willy-nilly to the very end. In the meantime, my focus is to help solidify an infrastructure for research students (as natural explorers) so that each student:

• Gets the most out of his/her educational experience,
• Finds mentors both in- and outside of NCNM to facilitate personal and professional growth,
• Learns how to navigate certain conditions/ therapeutic models using the latest technologies or oldest translated texts…

… so that upon graduation, each student walks the walk of a healer, knows how to speak a multitude of  medical disciplines, and, through cultivated confidence, becomes whole-heartedly present with each of their patients.

That was my dream when I graduated NCNM three years ago, Heather Zee heard me, and it’s pretty darn cool that Helfgott’s student research program has flourished to its present day level.

And need I say anything about Heather Zee or the fabulous research staff and investigators at Helfgott that made all this extraordinary stuff happen? Where would any of us be without the shoulders of giants to spit from?

If you will it, dude, there is no dream. T’was an honor to have had an extended stay at NCNM, to see it shine that much brighter with a little help from my friends.

So, in summation, I will miss you all, and totally trust that y’all will kicka$$ in the next stages of your life. Don’t forget to let it all hang out on occasion, howl at the moon, whatever it takes to hold presence and be real in our surreal world. Y’all make such a difference already.

My best,
Kimberly

Ps. If a loose end needs tying before I go, let me know; I’m still at the helm until March and will continue to fulfill my job description until that time.

If you care to keep in touch, I’ll probably still peck away at the Helfgott Blog; moreover, you can earmark my bookbinding/poetry outlet: Whispering ink if you ever miss my playful prose; I plan to bend the poetry medium upon its ear, or in the very least, make it a little more lopsided.