Cold & Rainy in May in NYC
When I lived in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles I remember how intense and eventually irritating the heat was in November, still left over from the summer. Personally, I enjoy summer on both coasts, and even the intense warmth generally does not bother me, though “month 6 of summer” did eventually wear on my tolerance. There were days where I would have given anything for one cool breeze, a tree with a huge shadow, or especially rain, as they were still then in the long draught. I feel this is where we are now on the east coast with the persistently overcast cold and rain.
By the time May rolls around we generally all feel like we’ve earned Spring — like we’ve long ago conceded that April no longer yields us much nice weather here, but because of that we deserve May. And yet here we are. Five straight days of rain, two of which were incessant and angry, and my weather app can’t seem to let me tuck all of my jackets away for the year. Even if your own psycho-neurology is more one of anxiety or happiness (the latter is permitted), this is downright depressing.
Part of the reason for this is universal and superficial. Cold, rainy weather is inherently anti-social, even in post-pandemic times where we all now freely visit one another and dine indoors. Still there is something about strolling to our morning train through 70 degrees or meeting friends outside of the restaurant sans any sense of climactic urgency, that feels like a warm hug from a (quiet) toddler.
Another reason is because the most common Chinese Medical pattern of depression is one of “cold, dampness.” Neither pathogen moves. Cold constricts, while dampness sinks and sedates. Between the two of them they make both our minds and bodies into soggy, wet rags, mere puddles of ourselves, inexplicably withdrawn or exhausted, and unable to engage or initiate anything through the fluid retention that clouds the “exterior” of our beings.
Think Seasonal Affective Disorder. Think arthritis or old aches and pains that flare in this climate, and/or especially dermatological conditions that might manifest as oozing skin issues or remarkable dryness. “How can one be simultaneously dry and damp?” you ask. This is simple. When there is enough inflammation within our muscle layer it obstructs the healthy body fluids from lubricating the skin. Most of us have long since taken for granted that lotion is a part of life, like brushing our teeth or showering, while in theory in perfect health one should never need to moisten their skin with external sources. Don’t get me wrong. It is fine to do so en route to the pursuit of perfection.
One of the first herbal medicinals we think of to treat “dampness on the exterior layer” is gui zhi (prounounced gwey-zher), or cinnamon branch, which warms the stomach and should induce a mild sweat, as it brings fluids up and out from our “interior layer,” or metabolic system. The challenge of course, is when someone suffers from extraordinary metabolic dryness, gui zhi will make them feel worse until that is first resolved. But when properly prescribed, it is one of the most valuable and important herbs in our entire pharmacopeia… and it tastes quite nice.
