Alright, so you want to know about Ye Ming Sha? Let me tell you about my little adventure with it. It’s one of those things, you know, sounds totally weird, and frankly, it is. But sometimes you get curious, or desperate, or maybe a bit of both.
I first heard about this stuff, Ye Ming Sha – which is basically bat droppings, let’s be honest – from my grandmother. She had all these old-timey remedies for everything under the sun. Most of them I just brushed off as old wives’ tales. But this one, for some reason, stuck in my head. Probably because the name sounds kinda poetic, “Night Bright Sand,” until you realize what it actually is.
Fast forward many years, and my eyes were giving me grief. Staring at screens all day, reading in bad light, the usual modern-day torture we put our eyes through. I was getting headaches, eyes felt gritty. Tried all the usual pharmacy stuff, but nothing really gave lasting relief. Then, out of nowhere, I remembered grandma mentioning Ye Ming Sha, supposedly good for the eyes. A long shot, I know.
So, what did I do? I actually went looking for it. Found this tiny, dusty old traditional medicine shop in a part of town I rarely visit. The kind of place that smells like dried herbs and centuries of secrets. I walked in, feeling a bit sheepish, and asked the old man behind the counter if he had Ye Ming Sha. He didn’t even blink. Just nodded, shuffled to a drawer, and pulled out a small paper packet.
Inside? Tiny, dark, crumbly bits. Yep, looked exactly like what you’d expect bat poop to look like. The instructions he gave me were… interesting. He said to grind it into a fine powder. Then, mix it with a bit of water or honey to make a paste. And here’s the kicker: apply it carefully around the eyes. Not in them, thank goodness. I was like, “Seriously? On my face?” But hey, I’d come this far.
Getting it home, I was half-laughing, half-wondering if I’d lost my mind. The family definitely thought I was nuts. “You’re putting WHAT near your eyes?!” was the general reaction. The process itself was… an experience. Grinding it up was weird. Mixing it into a paste was weirder. The smell wasn’t awful, just very earthy, a bit musky. Applying it felt ridiculous. I’d sit there for about 15 minutes with this dark ring around my eyes, feeling like a raccoon who’d had a very bad day.
I did this for about a week, every evening. And the results? Well, it wasn’t a miracle cure. Let’s be clear on that. My eyes didn’t suddenly become eagle-sharp. But, and this is a hesitant but, I did feel a little bit of relief. Was it the Ye Ming Sha itself? Or was it the fact that I was forced to close my eyes and rest them for 15 minutes? Or maybe it was the cooling sensation of the paste as it dried? Or just plain old placebo effect? Who knows.
I think it was probably a combination of things. The ritual itself made me pay attention to my eyes, forced me to take a break. And maybe there’s something to these old remedies, some subtle effect we don’t quite understand. Or maybe it’s just bat poop.
So, my big conclusion from the Ye Ming Sha experiment? It’s definitely a story to tell. I wouldn’t go recommending it as a first-line treatment for anything. Frankly, there are much less messy and more proven ways to deal with eye strain. But it was a fascinating dive into traditional practices. It made me think about how people figured this stuff out, or thought they did. It also reminded me of my grandma, which was kind of nice.
I don’t use it anymore. I stick to my regular eye drops and try to take more breaks from the screen. But every now and then, I see that little leftover packet in my medicine cabinet, and I can’t help but chuckle. What a strange little journey that was.
