Horse, Bird, Muffin

On Bodily Constitution & Sensitivity

I’m working on a larger writing project about the kinds of people whom modern medicine tends to fail, and in order to do that I realized I needed to give some context around the concept of constitutional type. It ended up being a fun little excursion, and I thought I’d share it here.

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When I was a kid, my dad taught me a little game: he'd name a person, and I'd have to decide whether they were a horse, a bird or a muffin. It was silly, of course, but it was fun, and it had an element of truth: some people are definitely more muffin than horse, while with others you can spot the horsey-ness at fifty paces. Still others manage to be bird-muffin hybrids, somehow.

Sure, it's an oversimplification, but so are things like the seasons: in reality every day is a little different from the last, but it's still helpful to zoom out and notice the similarities. Same with people.

Sadly, No Muffins Could Be Located For This Image

Every system of traditional (i.e. old-school) medicine that I'm aware of has its ways of recognizing different body types. People come in all shapes and sizes, and while the variety is nearly infinite, certain patterns can be usefully teased out.

Following the Ayurvedic way of thinking (that’s traditional medicine from India), for our purposes we can divide people into three main categories (keeping in mind that each of us will have at least a little from each category, and may be equally predominant in two or even all three). They are:

Sensitive Type (Bird)

Fiery Type (Horse)

Solid Type (Muffin)

Horses are vigorous, athletic, fiery, high-tempered—best not provoked unless you fancy a kick.

Muffins are solid and steady, unflappable, with deep reserves and a calm exterior.

Birds are, well, a bit flighty. They’re fickle, windy. light, creative, changeable.

These “types” are really expressions of inner forces as expressed through our features, builds and personalities. In other words, we each have the inner principle that makes horses horsey, we just not have as much of it as our favorite horse does. If we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t be able to survive in winter. We all have the bird principle, wind, or else we’d be immobile. We all have some muffin principle (call it dampness), or we wouldn’t stick together. From a medical perspective, all this is a gross oversimplification, but you get the idea.

The point is that there aren’t really three types, it’s more like there are three ingredients, three principles that operate in all of us to varying degrees—but for simplicity’s sake we can talk about three types.

Horse Culture, Horse Medicine

Cultures can be classified this way as well as people can. American culture is (you guessed) horse-heavy—just think of the national obsession with horsepower. We value productivity, like to keep ourselves humming with coffee and to work long hours. Achievement is looked upon highly. Taking too much vacation (a typical muffin-y behavior) is not. And bird-like, outside-the-box creativity can be looked at askance. (Things we don’t like are “for the birds.”)

Since we live in a horse-dominated society, it's no surprise that our medicine (modern, conventional medicine) works relatively well for horses. These are robust people with plenty of inner fire. As a rule, they're not overly sensitive to things like caffeine or other drugs. They can stand up to a certain amount of punishment if they have to and still bounce back quickly.Their digestion is generally strong--these are the people who can down a full glass of ice water and then eat a giant burger and fries without any apparent problem. Though such arguments are beyond the scope of this book, there's an argument to be made that modern medicine was created by and for this category of people, to a fair degree.

Muffins may not be as fiery and energetic as horses, but like a camel they have great reserves that can be tapped if needed. While emotionally sensitive, they are often the least sensitive types to physical stimuli (although they really don't do well with heavy, doughy foods and sweets). A rigorous, disciplined regimen can be a very good thing for a muffin. They can take harsh treatment if they have to and may show remarkable resilience to drying, heating therapies like radiation.

And then there are the birds. Here we have light-boned, thin, restless folks. These are the dreamers, the ones staring out the window in the back of the classroom. Inventive, erratic, creative--but above all, sensitive. Temperamental. Easily affected by things, for better or (as is too often the case) for worse. With great strength of imagination and intellect, birds are weaker in the physical department. Digestion is a particular vulnerability. So is the nervous system, so that birds tend to be high-strung and anxious when out of balance.

Medicine for the Birds

When I treat sensitive, delicate folks--a demographic that makes up over half of my practice--I've learned to do less. To use fewer and finer needles. Fewer cones of moxa. Lower dosages of herbal formulas. The weaker, more sensitive or more depleted someone is, the less stimulation it takes to make a difference, and the easier it is to do too much. It's counterintuitive, but think of it like this.

There are two carts, and one is full. The other is pretty emptied out--depleted. The full one requires quite a strong shove to get it moving. If you give the empty one that same shove, it'll go careening off the track, maybe even flip over. Easy does it.

In general, sensitive types (birds) require:

-lower dosages, not high ones

-lighter treatments, not stronger ones

-gentler flavors, not harsher ones

-supportive approaches, not aggressive ones

The more sensitive the person is, the truer these statements become.

When these principles are disregarded and a sensitive person is blasted with harsh, aggressive methods, things go downhill quickly. Pushed too hard, their systems go into the red zone, fight-or-flight. They may develop intense anxiety, tension, or insomnia. Their digestion may crumble, followed by energy levels and their already shaky confidence.

The good news is it's never too late to stop going down this road, whether as a sensitive patient or as someone treating a sensitive patient. The same body type that is reacting poorly to strong treatment can start responding well to gentle treatment. Things can turn around quickly. The key is awareness: that sensitivity exists, that many people exhibit it, that it can be recognized and addressed accordingly. Easy really does do it.

Interested in learning more about these ways of thinking about the body and working with sensitivity (which is also, let it be said, a superpower)? Drop a comment or check out my other online home, JonathanHadasEdwards.com.

Thanks for reading.