Page 26 - Spring 22

Ten Ox-herding pictures by Peter Gregory, UK
In a meeting of a group of Buddhist friends recently (by Zoom of course) I was reminded by our teachers of the “Ten Ox-herding Pictures”, which depict the spiritual progression of a Zen student. The author is said to be a Zen master of the Sung Dynasty known as Kaku-an Shi- en belonging to the Rinzai school. He also wrote poems and introductory words for each picture.
I believe the stages are universal, and apply to anyone seeking their inner truth, wherever they may find it, but I also believe they are relevant to our personal progression in learning homeopathy; they certainly resonated with my own journey, so I though it might be interesting to look at them from a homeopathic perspective. The pictures I am using were painted by Shubun, a Zen priest of the fifteenth century. The original pictures are preserved at Shokokuji, Kyoto. He was one of the greatest painters in black and white in the Ashikaga period. I plan to take them one at a time and see how it goes. Instead of the original commentaries I will try and add a haiku for each one. I hope you may find it interesting and I don’t find I am being too ambitious!
Picture 7 Forgetting the Ox, the Oxherder Rests Alone
The ox has disappeared and the oxherder is resting alone at home. When we were teaching together at the HPTG, John Saxton and I used to joke that in the first year we taught students the rules, in the second year how to bend them and in the third year they would start make their own. This was of course only a joke, but like all of the best jokes there is some truth in it. Of course it is essential to learn the basics of homeopathy: understand the law of similars; the importance of totality; how to recognise suppression, and how to manage a case skilfully. But
homeopathy is a vast subject, so I have always encouraged even the newest of students to share their knowledge and experience, telling them that even at such an early stage in their learning, they may well already have found something new to me. But the more time goes on, and the more we practise, the more we find that there are always exceptions to the ‘laws’ and more facets to homeopathic practice than we ever conceived when we started our journey. Hence every individual homeopath accumulates knowledge and experiences which shape the style in which he or she practises. Take potency for instance – each of us has our own way of using the various potencies: some of us stick rigidly to the centesimal potencies in a particular range – the division between high potencies and low potency prescribers in the late nineteenth century contributed to homeopathy’s demise in USA. Others follow the sixth edition of the Organon and use LM potencies exclusively. Personally I use everything from mother tinctures and 3x through to 10M or LMs, depending on the individual patient and their progress. And what about the way we practise? We have those who adhere to strictly Hahnemann’s instructions in the Organon, or maybe Kent’s teachings; but in the modern day we have guides such as Vithoulkas, Eizayaga, Scholten, Banerjea and Sankaran from the human sphere; all of whom have unique prescribing strategies relevant to the veterinary field. Out of this wealth of opportunities the individual homeopath takes what they find useful, or what they happen to encounter, and, importantly, what appeals to them as an individual. In this way each of us develops our own personal style of homeopathy. This is of course what Hahnemann did as he formalised homeopathy as a form of medicine – and it may well be useful to remember that in contrast to the meticulous instructions he provided in the Organon, in
his later
years he is
reputed to
have
started
every case
off with a
dose of Sulphur.
In view of this I
find it difficult to
agree with any critics of a
homeopathic vet who would prescribe Lac suis because the dog in question reminds them of a pig.
With all this in mind, Tim Couzens and I formulated two universal rules of homeopathic practice:
Rule no.1: ‘There are no rules’
Rule no.2: ‘Things go better with cake’.
So the oxherder- homeopath is sitting at home, content in the knowledge he has the wherewithal to treat his patients successfully. The bull (the dogma of homeopathy) is no longer visible and he sits alone, practising his art in his own idiosyncratic way. Perhaps the bridle and the whip have been replaced by a diary and a repertory. In the picture, he is looking at the mountain and the moon; I like to think that, like all good homeopaths, he is taking inspiration from everything around him, and in particular the natural world. He caught the bull and tamed him; he was drawn to homeopathy and studied it in all its forms- and now he can practise in a way that is meaningful to him, suits his needs and delivers the benefits to his patients to which he aspires. He has let the bull go.
In a moment he will go back into his hut for tea ...and cake.
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