A woman we shall call Sarah first came to see me as a patient with something of an unusual complaint. Several years earlier she started developing an array of unusual symptoms: amongst other things, her heart rate had increased to around 120 beats per minute, her body temperature had increased, she began to lose weight and her hair started flattening out. What was curious was the fact that she could pinpoint the day when her symptoms began to appear and this led her to explore what could have changed around that time. It led her to discover that this was the day that the store underneath her apartment had installed a Wifi network. Her sensitivities to these manmade electromagnetic frequencies (EMF) although not ‘typical’, are certainly not unique either. In my own practice, I have come across a number of people with similar complaints and there are entire communities in remote parts of the country established as EMF free zones for just such people.
Historically, the field of homeopathy has been rife with internal divisions based on philosophical differences that date back to the time it was first disseminated in the medical community of early nineteenth century Europe. While these differences have lead to a plethora of various school of thought and practice, there is one major fault line that divides homeopathic practice and practitioners into two major camps. On the one side is what is generally know as “classical” or “constitutional” homeopathy; on the other is virtually everyone else. What makes a practitioner a classical or constitutional homeopath is the belief that each individual is best served by the administration of a single homeopathic remedy that is carefully chosen to match the nature of that person. To reiterate this with other words, a remedy is selected that “resonates with” the characteristic “vital energy” of that person.
The Great Kanto Earthquake hit Tokyo and surrounding areas at noontime on September 1st, 1923. It lasted for somewhere between 4 to 10 minutes with a strength of 7.9 on the Richter scale. Upwards of 100,000 people were killed, the Imperial Palace burned and even the massive 93 ton, 40 feet tall ‘Great Buddha’ statue, which had sat placidly for nearly 700 years some 60 miles from the epicenter, slid forward several feet. The most lethal consequence of the quake were the fires that spread from domestic hearths, in use for food preparation at that time of day, to quickly engulf the wooden structures that housed them. Fanned by high winds, they developed into a huge firestorm that engulfed much of the city.
The Great Tohoku Earthquake and Tusnami of March 11, 2011has yet to prove as lethal with some 13,000 confirmed dead and over 14,000 as yet unaccounted for. Because of the tsunami and absence of open fires, fire was not such an issue this time around. But, the interesting parallel with Kanto Earthquake is that, in the end, the most deadly aspect of the disaster might very well end up being the destruction of another energy source – the nuclear reactors that provide the electricity that has replaced fire.
It wasn’t that long ago that the idiom ‘wired society’ came into being. It referred to the fact that ongoing technological advances in the field of communications, from telephones to the internet to satellites, had joined us all together, allowing for instant access to people and information. Today, wired is quite passé¢, so 20th century, if you will. We have become a wireless society. Sometimes, in the hills of Vermont, amongst which I live, it is not so apparent how wireless the society has become. Cell phone reception is spotty in and around our house and we have not felt a need to use Bluetooth or have a wireless computer network. In fact, I’ve resisted it. So have any number of cantankerous Vermonters – private landowners, interested citizens and various municipal bodies – remained resistant to the lure of upgraded cellular connectivity and the lucre of the telecommunications industry in exchange for dotting the landscape with towers.