Musings at the Shanghai Museum of TCM

When traveling for work, I always try to take in a few of the local sights and a recent trip to China was no exception. While in the beautiful and vibrant city of Shanghai, I took an afternoon stroll to the Museum of Traditional Chinese Medicine on the campus of Shanghai TCM University’s Zhangjiang campus in Pudong. As I got closer, I was delighted to see a street sign proclaiming Huatuo Road—TCM here I come! Once on campus, I was welcomed by the statues of Zhang Zhongjing, the “Medical Sage” of the Eastern Han Dynasty who wrote the Shang Han Lun, and Fu Xi, a divine king who is believed to have lived 5,000 years ago and who later came to be known as Shen Nong or the “Divine Farmer”, the O.G. of Chinese herbalism. I was in herb nerd heaven!

The round building of the Museum was easy to find, with a cool quiet space offering respite from the summer heat (Shanghai in summer is no joke!). It opened in October 2004 and is China's first museum specializing in medical history. For a mere 15 yuan ($2.21), I was able to amble through 3 floors of interesting exhibits.

The massive museum’s 43,000 square feet is divided into 8 sections--Primitive Medical Practice, Preserved Artifacts in Ancient Health Care, Ancient Medical Practice Management, Well-Known Doctors, Medical Classics and Firsts, Ancient Chinese Culture on Nurturing Life, Modern Chinese Medicine in Shanghai, Herbal Formulas, and Present-day Chinese Medicine. These sections offer visitors a multi-faceted understanding of Chinese medicine and its achievements in different historical periods and possible future advancements.

Beyond the impressive foyer displays introducing the basic concepts of TCM, I ventured into the section describing ancient medical practices. Displayed tools included cool bone needles from the Neolithic Age (10,000-4,000 years ago), scary-looking copper needles of varying thicknesses and lengths (I would describe some as more awl than needle) from the Han dynasty (206BCE-220CE), and delicate surgical tools from the southern and northern dynasties era (420-580CE) through the Ming and Qing dynasties (1368-1911). Two metal containers with puzzling spouts turned out to be fumigators for teeth and eyes. Both were from the Qing dynasty, so from the late 19th to early 20th century. There were also fascinating examples of oracle bone scripts on turtle plastrons—and if you’re unfamiliar, the symbols represent the earliest forms of written Chinese, dating from the Shang Dynasty (1600-1046 BCE). As a Chinese reader, I’ve always been fascinated with the evolution of Chinese characters—some are so visually suggestive, like the characters for fire, water, and mountain that it’s easy to see how they developed over time, and others so complex that they are made up of components of root words to usually convey sound, meaning and context.

I learned a lot of interesting facts in the Ancient Medical Practice Management section. Displays described how TCM as a complete medical system and medical practice administration could be traced as far back as the Western Zhou period (1046-771 BCE). Incredibly, around 3,000 years ago Chinese medicine was defined and separated from shamanism, medical subspecialities were categorized, and qualifications of medical practitioners were regulated. Interestingly, it took another thousand years for formal medical institutions to be established during the Sui and Tang dynasties (581-907CE), and that led to major advancements in clinical skills. Besides the written displays, a fun way the museum presented this history was through a large wall-sized computer-animated video (in Mandarin with English subtitles)—which I watched twice—not only because it was well done, but also to hear how exorcism was included in the skills the medical students learned. I found it particularly interesting and then less surprising when I thought about the metaphysical aspects of Daoism, its link to Chinese medicine and the lack of understanding around mental disorders at the time.

There were also various types of medical vessels, such as ancient moxa holders and burners and flagons for herbal wines, and lots of ivory figurines. My favorites on display were two small ivory figures of women, which were purportedly used by female patients to point to ailing body parts to their male physicians. It reminded me of the novel “Lady Tan’s Circle of Women” by Lisa See (which I mentioned in a past article), and how traditional Chinese culture suppressed and disadvantaged women in so many ways. Gazing at these tiny figurines, I felt a moment of gratitude yet again to be living in the present time, imperfect as it is. My absolute favorite artifact just happened to be the crown jewel of the museum. It was a lovely bronze acupuncture figure of an elderly woman. It turns out that she was part of a set commissioned by the Emperor Qianlong in 1744, and the only intact set in China, complete with the original brocade box with inscriptions establishing her provenance. Although only 18 inches tall, she was cast with 580 acupuncture points!

Beautiful landscape and calligraphy paintings were also on display, but among those I was most enamored with the Museum’s Neijing Tu (Chart of the Inner Landscape of the Human Body)—a large rubbing of the famous Nei Jing Tu stone stele, a carving dating back to 1886, which is housed in the White Cloud Temple (Baiyun Guan) in Beijing. Like other versions of the Neijing Tu, the rubbing was a map of esoteric neidan (internal alchemy) and traditional Chinese medicine which reimagined the human torso and head as a sacred mountain and cosmic landscape. In the “Resources” section at the bottom of this article is the YouTube link to a very good, detailed explanation of the Neijing Tu by Damo Mitchell.

It was cool to see old books from the museum’s astounding 10,000+ collection, such as an edition of the Ben Cao Gang Mu/Compendium of Materia Medica from the Ming Dynasty (somewhere between the late 14th century to early 17th century), but I was eager to get to the Herb Specimen Hall. This bright hall with high ceilings had tall displays of individual dried herb specimens and over 100 preserved fresh herbs in their whole plant form. Although not as complete as the amazing collection in the Chinese herb museum in Anguo (see a previous article) it’s always lovely to see herbs as they would look in nature. Standing there, I was just awed by the fact that ancient herbalists were able to figure out the nature and function of thousands of plants without modern-day access to microscopes and other lab equipment!

This reflection took me to the Well-Known Doctors Hall, where various serious-looking portraits could be found of outstanding TCM doctors—ancient healers like Huatuo, Li Shizhen, Bian Que and a host of others. A nod to more contemporary healers was a display of some of the herb prescriptions written by famous Shanghai doctors from the late 1800s to early 1900s, written in beautiful brush calligraphy.

The Cloud Traditional Chinese Medicine facility in the museum's third-floor exhibition hall helps visitors understand their own constitution and offers simple lifestyle tips through interactive experiences that can be operated on a mobile phone. Users can analyze their tongues, be shown recommended herbs and foods, learn how to best dress for weather, ideal hours for sleeping, and other lifestyle tips.

After spending nearly 3 hours thoroughly immersed in TCM from ancient to modern times, I decided to call it a day. To avoid possible sunstroke, I also decided to save a tour of the school’s famous herb garden for another visit. The 2-plus acre garden contains over 630 medicinal plants, making it a wonderful place to connect with nature and learn about Chinese medicinal herbs.

Although I don’t usually feel like a tourist when I’m in China, taking the time to experience something different from my ordinary life and work is wonderful. Travelling often puts me in a romantic mood, and I was inspired by the poetry of Li Bai (also known as Li Po). A genius and romantic figure of the Tang Dynasty, Li Bai took traditional poetic forms to new heights. Known for his unfettered creative freedom and Taoist imagery, he remains the most celebrated "Celestial Wanderer" in Chinese history. His poetry encompasses different themes, but especially freedom and wanderlust—his travels were both literal (Yangtze River, mountain passes) and symbolic (life’s path). His use of journeys as metaphors for life--personal growth, change, and the search for meaning resonate deeply with me, and I was reminded of a line in his poem of a surreal dream journey “Tianmu Mountain Ascended in a Dream”—

“I move, my soul goes flying” 忽魂悸以魄动.

Have a great summer and I hope you will surrender to some wanderlust of your own!