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Unit 17
DIALOGUE I
Traditional Chinese Medicine
A: Hi, Qian. I heard you were sick. How do you feel now?
B: Oh, thank you, Ray, for coming to see me. It was a very bad cold. But I feel much better today. My fever's gone and so is the cough. I'm almost myself again.
A: A bad cold almost gone in a few days' time? That's a quick recovery. Who's been treating you? And what medication are you on?
B: I went to a traditional Chinese doctor who prescribed some herbal medicine for me.
A: So you've been taking the magical herbal remedy.
B: Yes, I've always found Chinese medicinal herbs especially effective for treating bad colds. (Someone is knocking at the door)
B: Oh, it's the doctor. Come in, Dr. Wang. Ray, meet Dr. Wang. Dr. Wang, this is Ray Taylor, a friend of mine from Canada.
A: How do you do, Dr. Wang? It's a great pleasure to meet you.
C: How do you do, Mr. Taylor? I'm very glad to meet you, too.
A: I've always wanted to meet someone who specializes in traditional Chinese medicine. I hope you won't mind me asking you some questions.
C: Not at all, but if you don't mind, please let me attend to my patient first.
A: Sure. We can't neglect our patient. (After a little while)
C: Now, Mr. Taylor, what would you like to know?
A: I have a question about traditional Chinese medicine which bothers me all the time. We believe our Western medical practice is by nature scientific. Do you consider your medical practice also scientifically based?
C: It all depends on what you mean by "scientific". That's a big topic for a casual chat. But let me try to explain in a few words. Traditional Chinese medicine bases itself on the belief that human ailments result from a loss of balance between yin and yang, two complementary forces of vital energy called chi that are supposed to make up all aspects and phenomena of life. The herbal medication, when properly used, and supported by the acupuncture treatment when necessary, will help restore the harmonious state of balance of yin and yang vital energy in the body of a patient. Does that make sense to you?
A: Not quite. But this yin and yang theory sounds quite mystical! I've heard about acupuncture therapy, and also moxibustion and cupping therapies. These treatments are effective, aren't they?
C: Yes, they are. They work on the same principles as the herbal medicine.
A: How do you compare yourself with those Chinese doctors who practise Western medicine?
C: We specialize in different fields, but the relationship of the two medical practices is one of complementation. We learn from each other's strengths to make up for our deficiencies.
A: Do you receive very different training?
C: We have some basic training in common. Many doctors of Western medicine have learned the theories and clinical practice of herbal medicine, while traditional Chinese doctors have received training in the techniques of scientific diagnosis and treatment.
A: What an excellent combination! Now one more question. How do traditional doctors usually diagnose illnesses?
C: The first thing we do is to feel the patient's pulse. The pulse tells about a person's state of health. Then we also look at the colour of the patient's tongue and face.
A: Oh, the whole thing is just beyond me. But I'll do my best to keep my yin and yang in balance.
DIALOGUE II
Dialogue:
A Chinese student and an American student talk about their similarities and differences.
A: Have you ever heard of Rudyard Kipling's "East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet"?
C: Yes. Are you implying that you and I are very different in our ideas and habits?
A: No. To my great surprise, I've discovered we have much in common.
C: And Kipling was crudely Chauvinistic and showed unpleasant arrogance to peoples then ruled by Britain. I don't like him.
A: I don't like him either, though his early stories show his capacity to feel for the humble and the suffering.
C: I haven't read any of those stories. To do him justice, I will in future. But on the whole he's just too arrogant.
A: I quite agree with you. Neither of us likes Chauvinism. Both of us believe in equality among the peoples.
C: Speaking of similarities and differences, do you like the way we steam our bread instead of baking it? Most foreigners find it unique.
A: For me, either steamed or baked bread is OK, but neither of my American roommates likes it steamed.
C: Some Chinese feel the same way, especially those from the South. They like rice, three times a day.
A: Oh, I can't stand having rice all the time for my meals.
C: Neither can I. I hate having rice for every meal.
A: But sometimes I have to. So whenever I'm in Beijing, I have bread, steamed or baked, but in Shanghai, I have rice.
C: There are many other respects in which people from our two countries are different. For example, Chinese people like soccer. None of us have ever seen an American football match.
A: Strange to say, I don't like either of those games. Baseball is my favourite game.
C: It's my favourite too. Let's go and watch a game one of these days.
READING I
The Parent in Us
There are psychologists who believe that the Parent is a large collection of "recordings" that is stored in a person's brain. These recordings were made during the first five years of the person's life. They are quite complete, and they contain a record of everything the little person heard or saw. Almost all of them can be recalled under the proper conditions.
A very important part of these recordings is the set of rules and laws that was imposed by the young person's parents. These rules and laws helped shape the young person's beliefs about himself or herself and about the world. And, as the child had no way to judge them, these rules and laws were recorded in his brain as "truth."
What do these rules and laws say? Well, that depends upon what the parent said and did. Some common ones might be: "Be kind." "Be careful." "Don't lie." "Don't steal." "Mother loves you." "Father is wise." "Work is good." Such rules help socialize and comfort a child.
However, some of the other rules might be upsetting, demeaning or misleading: "Do it this way." "Don't do it that way." "You're bad." "You're stupid." "You're mean." "You're ridiculous." "Never give a sucker an even break." Such statements and rules can damage a person.
Every person's parent recording is different. Each of us had a unique childhood. One psychologist simply points out two things: (1) each has a parent recording in our brain, and (2) this recording sometimes "comes on" and tells us what to do. It's a voice out of the past, telling us what to do in the present.
This may give us problems. First, the information or rules in our parent may be incorrect or out of date. Second, our parent sometimes can influence us without our being aware of it. When that happens, we may do things or make decisions without fully considering more correct or up-to-date information.
As you work toward choosing your occupation, you may be sure that your parent will get into the act. You really can't prevent this -- in fact, you might not want to. The point is that you should be aware of this parent that is influencing you. Try to take advantage of its good advice, but also try to avoid being hurt by the bad.
READING II
My Forever Valentine
The traditional holidays in our house when I was a child were spent timing elaborate meals around football games. My father tried to make pleasant chitchat and eat as much as he could during halftime. At Christmas he found time to have a cup or two of holiday cheer and don his hollyshaped bow tie. But he didn't truly shine until Valentine's Day.
I don't know whether it was because work at the office slowed during February or because the football season was over. But Valentine's Day was the time my father chose to show his love for the special people in his life. Over the years I fondly thought of him as my "Valentine Man."
My first recollection of the magic he could bring to Valentine's Day came when I was six. For several days I had been cutting out valentines for my classmates. Each of us was to decorate a "mailbox" and put it on our desk for others to give us cards. That box and its contents ushered in a succession of bittersweet memories of my entrance into a world of popularity contests marked by the number of cards received, the teasing about boyfriends / girlfriends, and the tender care I gave to the card from the cutest boy in class.
That morning at the breakfast table I found a card and a gift-wrapped package at my chair. The card was signed "Love, Dad," and the gift was a ring with a small piece of red glass to represent my birthstone, a ruby. There is little difference between red glass and rubies to a child of six, and I remember wearing that ring with a pride that all the cards in the world could not surpass.
As I grew older, the gifts gave way to heart-shaped boxes filled with my favourite chocolates and always included a special card signed "Love, Dad." In those years my thank-yous became more of a perfunctory response. The cards seemed less important, and I took for granted the valentine that would always be there. Long past the days of having a "mailbox" on my desk, I had placed my hopes and dreams in receiving cards and gifts from "significant others," and "Love, Dad" just didn't seem quite enough.
If my father knew then that he had been replaced, he never let it show. If he sensed any disappointment over valentines that didn't arrive for me he just tried that much harder to create a positive atmosphere, giving me an extra hug and doing what he could to make my day a little brighter.
My mailbox eventually had a rural address, And the job of hand delivering candy and cards was relegated to the U. S. Postal Service. Never in ten years was my father's package late -- nor was it on the Valentine's Day eight years ago when I reached into the mailbox to find a card addressed to me in my mother's handwriting.
It was the kind of card that comes in an inexpensive assortment box sold by a child going door-to-door to try to earn money for a school project. It was the kind of card you used to get from a grandmother or an aging aunt or, in this case, a dying father. It was the kind of card that put a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes because you knew the person no longer was able to go out and buy a real valentine. It was a card that signaled this would be the last you would receive from him.
The card had a photograph of tulips on the outside, and on the inside my mother had printed "Happy Valentine's Day." Beneath it, scrawled in barely legible hand-writing, was "Love, Dad."
His final card remains on my bulletin board today. It's a reminder of how special fathers can be and how important it has been to me over the years to know that I had a father who continued a tradition of love with a generosity of spirit. Simple acts of understanding and an ability to express happiness over the people in his life.
Those things never die, nor does the memory of a man who never stopped being my valentine.
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