Scientific studies have been an important contribution to the formation of our times. The modern pairing of science as being opposite to religion, as if the two were in some form of fetishistic duel, is nonsense: science is (or, at least, should be) about community, which accounts for the rigorous checks and balances implemented by researchers. It does not attempt to “prove” things that are by their very nature hypotheses. Healthy science includes and involves as many voices as possible, and a conclusion, not a “divine” revelation, is what matters most.

We can’t necessarily blame science, the discipline, or even researchers themselves when they set out to “prove” things that are well known to many already. Two examples of this came to light this week in mainstream media.

The first, from the NY Times: “The Claim: Nasal Irrigation Can Ease Allergy Symptoms.” I grew up suffering from horrible allergies, a trend that more or less continued my entire life. Five years ago, I began using a neti pot. (The term “neti pot” is a trademark of the Himalaya Institute. They’ve stumbled quite handsomely into bragging (and financial) rights on this one, much like the term “Q-tips” instead of what a Q-tip actually is, a cotton swab. But hey, they’ve been manufacturing them since 1972, way ahead of the curve.)  My allergies have pretty much disappeared; the idea of ever again ingesting the endless boxes of Claritin my former doctor recommended is now but a distant bad memory.

I’m all for good science, however. I applaud scientists for taking these inquiries seriously. The presentation of it, however, is something that needs to be worked on. Years ago I read an article in a cooking magazine on the history of European cuisine. I’m sorry if my memory is not exactly clear, but I do recall the writer claiming that either the English or French cooks of the seventeenth century were the first to understand the digestive system as being engaged in the process of “cooking” the food with an internal “fire.” I could only laugh: Ayurvedic practitioners had known about this for millennia; those very terms were what helped create their system. It’s the hubris — we’re the first damn it! — that makes me chuckle.

As Henrich Zimmer, Joseph Campbell, and Carl Jung all concluded, the Indian philosophers were light years ahead of us, thousands of years ago. We can only hope to catch up sometime in the near future.

Take this recent article in Time: “Psychotherapy Goes From Couch to Yoga Mat.” One paragraph reads:

The concept of healing the mind via the body, and vice versa, has been around for decades. “Freud used to work with hysterical women with unconscious conflicts that they couldn’t express through words,” says Visceglia. “Only through looking at the symptoms of their body [like phantom pregnancies] could they even get to what was psychologically needed for healing.

For decades? Really? And Freud initiated that understanding? Granted, the yogis of Patanjali’s time thought the body to be an obstacle to be overcome, but with the onset of Tantra, that all changed. The understanding of the emotional/mental/psychic link between the realm of ideas and form was explored heavily. The body was no longer a gross object to be discarded, but a vehicle to be cultivated, strengthened, mastered.

I realized long ago that the time spent on my mat was my therapy. That much is obvious to anyone who takes the discipline seriously. It’s always nice to have verification of this, but the yogi needs no external influence. If that attention draws more people in, wonderful. We can always use more healing. But let’s get our history a bit straighter, and stop thinking that the West has now affirmed them for everyone, when this information has been “proven” long ago, by the most important teacher of all: experience. Like the aforementioned thinkers said, we’re only just beginning to understand.