Doubt

I speak from my heart but I’m not really sure if its true…

I don’t know what to believe I just show up and breathe

                                                       anymore.

                                          Indigo Girls, Lay My Head Down (Emily Saliers)

I’ve been silent on the blog for a while, and there’s a reason for that.  It’s primarily about doubt.

As I’ve opened to things unseen and things that many believe unknowable, it’s easy to let my thinking brain get in the way.  I do lots of that.  I’ve always felt blessed with a bright brain, but only recently have I come to understand that as glorified as intellect is in our culture, there are some things that come more easily to simple people (and by “simple,” please understand – I’m not saying unintelligent).  I think they often know how to feel their way through life in ways that those of us with big intellects have a hard time truly understanding.  I’ve been worshiping at the shrine of intellect all my days; I only recently became aware that the intellect cannot understand all things.  There are some things it can’t even approach.  I will admit, I have always believed that anything in life can be “figured out.”  And it turns out I was very wrong about that.

Still.  It’s very much my impulse and habit to use my brain for every application.  I’m learning, but it’s slow-going, and frankly, still way too often more theoretical than experiential.  And when I do get a lovely experience that takes me out of my brain, the gray matter immediately goes to work categorizing and intellectualizing as soon as I’m back from where ever I’ve been.  Maybe the best I can do is just watch my mind do this, try to understand that that’s what brains do and not get too distressed about it.  The only issue is that I still tend to think the answer is in the brain.

I have been thinking a lot about awareness lately, specifically “nonlocal” awareness.  What does this mean?  Nonlocal awareness?  It’s essentially the idea that our awareness does not reside in our bodies, in our nervous systems.  It’s behind the experiences people have when they remember past lives or have a near-death experience.  If we weren’t “here,” in our bodies, where do these “thoughts” and “memories” come from?  Consciousness is larger than our neurons.

I started to wonder if it’s possible to be aware of everything – I mean, really – EVERYTHING.  (I’m nothing if not ambitious, right?)  If you’ve been reading the blog for a while (or care to take a jog through old posts), you’ll know I have been diagnosed with adult ADD, and recognizing those tendencies in the way my brain works has been life-altering for me.  One thing that is obvious is that brains can only hold so much in attention at once, there’s only so much we can know and remember as humans.  There’s only so much we can attend to.  Even those of us who tune in to quite a lot at one time can’t tune in to EVERYTHING.  And the more we let in, the worse our overwhelm can become.  Our nervous systems just were not designed to attend to all that is, even in one blessed moment.

But… if we take the brain out of the equation?  What then?  Can we know in ways that we can’t intellectualize?  Can we know in ways that give us a snapshot, so to speak, of our entire environment?  I have begun to think that the answer to this is YES!

Only now, the question comes back to, “HOW?”

And that’s what I’ve been working on.  That’s why I haven’t had much to say lately.  I’m working out the awareness puzzle, and trying my damnedest to do so without my eager brain jumping in every other second.  It’s slow going for a heavy thinker like me.  The biggest hurdle on this journey so far is doubt.

There’s so much talk about ego – the evils and pitfalls of the ego.  Essentially, ego is brain-based.  I’ve come to understand that our ego is the unflinching survival mechanism that grounds us in this world.  It deserves respect but also should not be given domain over what it cannot comprehend.  I feel the ego is inescapable in this lifetime, but we can put it into the service of our soul.  I’m not always very good at that… but I’m working on it.  When I reach even a taste of what I’m trying to experience, the ego mind flies in with doubts.  The ego is entirely based in the intellect and in the survival instincts of this world.  It does not understand anything else, and so when those things appear, the ego/intellect dismisses them.  It is quite dogmatic in that way, and it’s easily threatened.  We are so very fond of listening to our egos.  For good reason, too – they help keep us physically safe and alive, functioning within our world of illusion.  So we are met with a challenge… how do we remove the intellect as king?  How can we give it a proper place, in balance with the wholeness of our being?

I don’t have answers.  Yet.  And when the answers come, I don’t know if I’ll be able to translate them to words on a computer screen. No doubt I will at least have the impulse to try.

And so the lyrics from the song I referenced above speak to me loudly these days.  “I speak from my heart, but I’m not really sure if it’s true.”  And I’ve realized that not being sure of my truth is a very painful place to be.  I hate it.  I want to stand on solid ground, and I want my intellect to reassure me that what I understand is TRUTH.  I want to wrestle with the issues of discernment with my brain, and it’s just not working very well.

“I don’t know what to believe, I just show up and breathe anymore.”

And maybe that’s all I can do.  Just show up and breathe.  Maybe while my mind is taking a breather, I will find and embrace my truth.  Maybe the Skeptic and the Thinker will lose track of me altogether.

A girl can hope.

 

I’m an ocean

You’re an ocean you’re an ocean
Settle down settle down
What’s the commotion?
I’m an island
But you’re an ocean
It’s a stormy sea of love and emotion
You got me suspended motionless in time

Dr. Maitland advises me to make myself an ocean.

The metaphor goes like this.  If you are a puddle, any little pebble that hits you makes a big splash. If you are an ocean, you could drop a boulder and it would not make more than an insignificant ripple on the surface of a vast body of water.

At times, it feels that all of us are vulnerable to so many things in our environment, internal and external.  What other people do or think, what our own judgments of ourselves and others create.  Emotions, events, and our interpretations of them can really make us feel that our well-being is in jeopardy.  For those of us who are especially sensitive (and for those of us who embrace and cultivate that sensitivity), we’ve often got what seems like a lot of pebbles hitting us continuously.  And we all get a boulder or two every now and then, something that just rocks us to our core.

The way I initially responded to Dr. Maitland’s advice was to focus in on what I felt was the essence of myself, the inner part of me.  Then I imagined that part of me extending outside my body and moving all the way to the horizon, becoming expansive.  As I walked through my day, I would practice pushing my energy ahead of me, outside of me, surrounding me and extending all the way to the curvature of the Earth.  At times, I tried to imagine it encompassing the Earth or extending out into outer space.  I admit, I’ve never really accomplished that much expansiveness through imagery and will, but it’s fun to try.

The interesting thing about this exercise is that when I’m able to do well with it, it feels as though judgment falls away to some extent or another.  It feels as though self-reproach falls away in part or full.  The expansiveness feels like an embrace of everything and everyone around you.  Judgment, including self-judgment, tends to “crunch” it all back down, and I am yet again a puddle with a hailstorm of pebbles all around.

But I think I may have discovered another piece of the puzzle.  The phrase “Be the observer,” is fairly well known.  It is based in Buddhist (and other) philosophies that ask us to release attachment to our present experience, whatever it may be.  We can observe our emotions without getting drawn into the drama of them.  We can observe what happens around us without getting caught up in the dichotomy of good and bad, without the idea that we have to put everything in a little box so that we can understand it with our thinking mind.  Or so I hear.

I discovered a book called The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer.  I’ve had more success learning to be the observer since I started reading this book than I ever have before.  He explains the essence of who we are in a way that makes more sense to me than anything else I’ve ever read.  I realize I’m not my thoughts, I’m not my experiences, I’m not my personality – but who am I?  I’m the awareness of all those things.  I am not even the thinker of thoughts.  I am the one who is aware of the thought.  And that’s all.  In fact, that’s more than “all” – that’s everything.

We think that our thoughts are substantial.  We think that our beliefs are real and our opinions are real.  We think that if we can understand it, it counts.  In my cerebral way, I’m as prone to this (if not more so) than most people.  It’s part of being human to get caught up in what we think and to believe that we are defined by our thoughts and the actions they lead us to.  But that’s not who we are.  We are the awareness of those things – the thoughts, the actions, and everything we observe around us.

Michael Singer compares it to watching a movie and getting so caught up in the experience of the movie, you forget you’re sitting in a theater.  You forget the details of your life outside the theater.  You come back to yourself when the credits roll and the lights are turned on.  Then you realize you were absorbed in the story and had left yourself for a while.  He asks us to imagine a movie where we could smell and taste and feel every element of the story as well as see it.  How much more absorbed would we become?  We might forget ourselves completely.  And so we do.  This human experience is so absorbing that we tend to be unable to remember who we really are.  We think we are all the things and experiences that make up our Earth life.  We forget we are actually the awareness that is having the experience.

This way of looking at things has made a big difference in learning to become the observer.  I feel like I really am starting to get it for the first time.  I am more easily able to step back to the level of awareness and watch what goes on – what my brain thinks, what my emotions react to.  I still get caught up and absorbed in the story – and I know I always will tend to do that, just as all humans will tend to do that.  But I more easily and quickly pull back and watch, even as the tears stream down my face, even as I’m feeling irritable and out of sorts, even as I grapple with insecurities.  Even as all this occurs, I am more aware of the consciousness that underlies every Earthly experience.  I am more in touch with the true essence of myself, and it is simple and profound.

So, I began experimenting with the ocean idea again.  Only this time, I’m not vaguely pushing some part of myself to the horizon.  Instead, I’m simply focusing on the aware part of myself, the truly “me” part of me, and getting a sense of that.  As I do, I try to find the boundaries… and I can’t.  I can’t find the boundaries.  Maybe there are edges out there somewhere, but I can’t sense them.  It is more expansive than I could have imagined.  It’s not a question of pushing my boundaries out to the horizon or into outer space or beyond.  It’s really that I have no sense of where this awareness begins or ends.  It feels immeasureable.  How startling.  Is that really me?  Could it really be that I am that expansive?  (And at this point, “I” doesn’t mean what it used to mean.)

When I pull back into my awareness, when I’m able to do this, I’m truly an ocean.  And when I crumble, when I compress into my current experience of insecurity, lack, thoughts, and opinions, I can at least watch myself doing that.  Even when I don’t feel expansive, I have a sense that I am expansive – more than I can possibly comprehend in my current state.  And as I watch myself getting caught up in the drama, I am comforted by that knowledge, even when I don’t feel it, when I have no visceral experience of it.  I remember having a glimpse of it in my clearest moments, and for now that is enough.

Nested

Orion asked me to think on/study the concept of twin souls if I wanted greater understanding of the soul relationship between myself and a friend with whom I seem to share an intense connection that I’ve never really understood.  I did read some stuff about twin souls after I got that advice, but most of it didn’t ring true to me, either in general or specifically in reference to me and my friend.  However, I began reading Gary Zukov’s The Seat of the Soul (I can’t believe I’ve never read that before!) and jotted down some brief notes and diagrams inspired by some of his material.  This is a more complete examination of the ideas that came to me.  Orion has since said that these ideas are a good way for my mind to metaphorically grasp these ideas as I continue to work on non-linear ways of knowing.  Really, the exact words were “The insights you had… can assist you in helping your rational mind to have something to focus on as you begin to further embrace the non-linear ways of knowing.  We are pleased that you have come to understand that literal and rational knowing are… merely one tool to help you along your way when your logical mind might prefer something to focus on.”

In The Seat of the Soul, page 86-8, Gary Zukov says:

The higher self is the connecting link when the soul speaks to its personality.  It is the dialogue between the personality and its immortal self.  The personality-soul communication is the higher experience, but the personality does not communicate with the fullness of its soul.

All of the energy of the soul does not incarnate.  To incarnate, the soul creates a personality from those parts of itself that it wants to heal in the physical environment and from those parts of itself that it lends to the process of healing in that lifetime.

So powerful is the energy of the soul that it could not advance into physical form without, literally, exploding that form.  In the creation of a personality, the soul calibrates parts of itself, reduces parts of itself, to take on the human experience.  Your higher self is that aspect of your soul that is in you, but it is not the fullness of your soul.  It is a smaller soul self.  Therefore, “higher self” is another term for “soul,” yet the soul is more than the higher self.

Picture a cup, a gallon, and a water tank.  The water tank is the soul.  An aspect of the soul becomes a gallon.  That gallon is still soul, but not the fullness of the soul.  It is that part of the soul that is on a mission, so to speak.  The personality is the cup.  The cup contacts the gallon, the higher self soul, but not the full-bodied water tank.

Communication between the personality and its soul is an in-house intuitive process.  It is a process that is organic to your own internal system.  For example, decision-making, which is your process, can be an intuitive process in which you pull data from your mind, your heart and your intuition, relying upon the guidance of your higher self.  Each of these sources is a part of your own system of energy.  Your personality and your higher self are of your soul.

Intuition can also permit the personality, through the higher self, to receive information from other souls of higher process, souls that are not its own soul.  Sources of guidance other than your own higher self can come across on the same radio station, so to speak.  This is not the same as an intuitive process.  This is a process of receiving guidance through intuitive channels.

Receiving information through intuitive channels is significantly different from receiving information through intuitive processes.  Receiving information through intuitive processes is cooking at home.  Receiving information through intuitive channels is ordering out.

Gary Zukov’s explanation of personality/higher self/soul may go by different nomenclature elsewhere.  In Jane Roberts’ Seth material, there is reference to the oversoul.  This is not the first mention of oversoul – Ralph Waldo Emerson defined oversoul as being the collective soul of humanity.  But for my purposes, I understand the oversoul to be a larger soul than the individual soul and one that may have reference to more than one individual soul.  This understanding came from reading Jane Roberts’ novel The Education of Oversoul 7.  Yet, the concept I carry of “oversoul” and how I use it in this discussion is that it is not the ultimate collective soul of all humanity.  I believe there are many oversouls… I will explain further, but the definitions and words between various people talking about the same thing are often different.  In my mind, I define personality as the human form we occupy; the “higher self” that Zukov references, I simply call “soul.”  And the “soul” Zukov references, I identify as oversoul.  I am going to take that concept one step further than Zukov did in the writings I referenced above – this was my jumping-off point in this meditation on the theme.

So, Zukov uses the metaphor of cup/gallon/water tank.  I like that metaphor a lot – it helps make something more clear that is difficult for us to understand.  I don’t think it is necessarily entirely literally true, but I believe our human minds are somewhat limited in what we can understand of the true nature of reality.  Metaphors are helpful in this regard, and I don’t believe it’s important that we know the precise fullness of truth, neither is it practical or possible.  I believe we grasp what we can, and it leads us to higher truth if we allow it.  I believe that is good enough and all that is necessary/expected in our current incarnated state.

In reference to thinking on the concept of twin souls, I’m not sure that Orion directed me to this concept because it necessarily has anything to do with me and my friend per se.  (In fact, I am told frequently lately that part of the divine purpose in our knowing each other is that we spur each other to necessary lessons about relationships, connections and love that are larger than either of us individually.  And it’s fascinating to me thus far that no matter how personal things seem, the lesson always seems to extend out far beyond our individual interactions, misunderstandings, and current limitations.)   I’m not sure I believe that everyone has a twin soul (or twin spark), and I believe that most of what is put out there about twin souls is actually a manifestation of our cultural spell that everyone has an ultimate soul mate who will complete them.  I do not deny or degrade the experience of those who feel they’ve found their twin soul.  I accept this as possible and maybe even probable.  I just don’t buy into a lot of the explanations I’ve read and have no knowledge or experience of it myself (maybe someday…).  My understanding of the concept is that twin souls are formed from the same spark of infinite intelligence to create two souls who together form a complete yin/yang complement.  Perhaps this is a more personalized expression of the concept of our oneness.  Perhaps the idea of twin soul is so popular for the same reason metaphors help us understand larger truths – it helps us wrap our brains around something that ultimately our brains can’t understand.  But for my purposes, it is my jumping-off point, and here are the connections between Zukov’s metaphor and my extension of it.

So I’ll call the cup the personality, the gallon the soul, and the water tank the oversoul.  Starting at the cup level, what if the twin soul concept involves two cups in one gallon? That is, what if two personalities share the same soul?  I could buy this, easily.  I don’t necessarily think there are always two cups in each gallon container, but I could be wrong.  And maybe there are more cups than that in each gallon container.  Wouldn’t surprise me.

But let’s look at the oversoul – the water tank.  I totally buy the concept that each water tank contains several gallon containers with their corresponding cups.   That is, each oversoul has “calibrated itself,” in Zukov’s words, not just into one smaller part (or maybe it’s better to think of it as a more limited part or a more specific part), but into several smaller parts, or aspects.  It is not too difficult to understand the idea that if there is one aspect the oversoul would like to heal through the experience of physical existence, there may be several such aspects.  It would distill “those parts of itself that it lends to the process of healing in that lifetime” to the corresponding aspects.

So, imagine a water tank.  Inside this big water tank are open-topped gallon containers – several of them.  (Why open-topped?  That’s just the way I visualize it because it makes it easier for me to imagine how connected we are if we are each exposed to the same body of water despite our  separations.)  Inside each gallon container are open-topped cup containers – perhaps more than one in each.  The tank would represent the oversoul, the gallons the individual discrete souls (or what Zukov calls “higher selves”), and the cups represent our human personalities.

But let’s take the concept a bit further.  What if these open-topped water tanks with all their enclosed aspects are, themselves, contained in something larger – a swimming pool, perhaps?  What would we call that which is over the oversoul (or under and around the oversoul, for that matter)?  Well, it doesn’t matter… let’s keep on going… what if the swimming pool is not the only swimming pool in existence but it is, itself, housed within a larger body of water?  What if the ocean holds many swimming pools?  How far does this go?  The concept I’m working with right now is that it goes all the way to God.  What we define as “God” is simply the largest and most complete aspect, the one that holds everything else.  This metaphor helps us understand how we are all God, how we are all One, how all life and all things are connected… and yet we still have a frame of reference for understanding our individuality.  We still have a frame of reference for understanding why we feel so much more connected to some people versus others.  If we are sitting in the same gallon with another personality, we might feel extremely connected.  If Zukov’s metaphor holds truth, this would mean that two personalities may share the same intuitive processing system.  That would likely create a very specific and powerful kind of intimacy.  The concept of a twin soul, to me, makes more sense in that context.  If we are sitting in the same water tank with other “gallons” or souls, it makes sense that we might be more intuitively connected with those souls compared with a soul sitting in an entirely different water tank.

There’s another metaphor that I have the privilege to pull from, something that is not within most people’s frame of reference.  Growing up, my mother suffered from multiple personality disorder.  That’s what they called it then.  Now it’s referred to as dissociative identity disorder (DID).  If you have no concept of what DID is, the cable TV series United States of Tara illustrates this, albeit in an overly-dramatic, less-common presentation than is usually the case for people who live within this complex situation.  It is believed that if severe and constant trauma occurs during a child’s formative years, the personality can split off into different aspects (personalities) as a means of survival and maintaining sanity.  DID is chaotic, to be sure, but it’s not insanity.  Now, I want to be clear that I don’t really understand DID, and I am pretty sure no one really can unless they’ve experienced it.  Many psychiatrists still don’t believe it actually exists, that those diagnosed DID are merely misclassified somehow.  But because of my exposure to the disorder, it’s more on my radar than it probably is for most people.

Now, doesn’t the concept of DID sound kind of like what we’re talking about here?  The personality under trauma splits off aspects of itself, forming discrete personalities within the psyche of one person, one body.  All these aspects are still ultimately one person, no matter how fractured that person has become (and the concept of soul retrieval is not very different, really).  With the metaphor I’ve outlined above, it seems no different than the fracturing we’ve all experienced on the soul level (or perhaps I should more accurately say on the God level?).  But here’s a curious concept – those with DID occasionally integrate.  That means that the personalities all come together as one integrated personality once again (and similarly, there are plenty of folks who have participated in soul retrieval rituals to recover lost aspects of themselves).  Integration represents a reality that the person with DID can scarcely remember, as they’ve been fractured since early childhood, and this fracturing helped them survive.  I can only imagine the challenge involved in the process of integration, and many with DID have no desire for integration.  My mother did integrate when I was 12.  She has told me some of the fears she experienced at the time – wondering if parts of herself would disappear, and which ones would “die” when there was only one of her left.  Of course, they are all still there, just not split apart into their individual aspects.  She retained all their memories and all their skills (although, she reports that since several of them had different fingerings for the same piano piece, there were a few she couldn’t play for a while because she couldn’t sort out which one to use!).  There is no need for the fracturing anymore.  The experiences she’s been through have made her perception of the world and her inner experience different from what most of us experience, even now, but she is again one personality, not 20.

Let’s use the concept of DID as a metaphor for our own spiritual evolution.  Mom tells me that as she approached integration, the personalities had to learn to work together.  They had to understand how they were connected and make peace with one another.  They had to work on their own healing, and they had to recognize that they were all one.  When we think of how our souls have split aspects of themselves off in order to experience our current reference of reality, in order to be physical beings, the question arises whether we will one day reintegrate.  I believe we will.  In fact, I believe that this is likely a good metaphor to understand spiritual collectives that offer us guidance though channels like Esther Hicks (Abraham), Jane Roberts (Seth), and Betsy-Morgan Coffman (Orion).  A close friend of mine has a personal guide who is a collective of three souls. These various guides have told us that they are actually collectives of souls, although they speak to us as if they are one entity.  I suspect that there may be more involved that just one of a group of individual advanced souls stepping forward to speak for the group.  What if these souls have integrated to some degree or another?  I think perhaps they have.  And if we are all one, if we are all God, if we all have the potential to return to God, how does this occur?  Does it occur through greater and greater integration? And is this why helping each other moves us along our own paths?

This can, of course, be a frightening concept – we don’t want to disappear.  We don’t want to lose ourselves in the collective.  We don’t understand how we can remain fully ourselves and yet somehow also be absorbed into something bigger.  We so value our individuality, and in our current reality, the grip of the ego seduces us to think that looking out for number one is the only way to survive.  The idea of being part of something bigger brings up fears of losing ourselves. Hell, how many of us struggle to become part of “we” in a life partnership, let alone working with the thought of integrating at the soul level?  It looks scary to us.

I have a feeling, however, that our fears are groundless.  Perhaps we won’t truly understand that until we reach a level of spiritual advancement sufficient to offer us the choice to integrate into our fullness, to join with our more divine aspects.  Until we enter a space of true understanding (and I don’t think it will happen here), we can use our guidance systems, internal and external (“cooking at home” vs “ordering out,” as Zukov says), to learn our lessons, to advance our souls as much as we can through our experiences.  We don’t have to worry about full integration right now; we don’t have to worry about merging with God in any ultimate sense.  We do our best to touch God and to recognize our divine natures… anything more is for another day and another time, or more likely for a time and place beyond time and space.

What are your thoughts?

Empathy

I’ve been thinking about empathy a bit this evening.  I am beginning to suspect that I’m picking up on a loved one’s fatigue.  Man, have I been wiped out the past several days.  Of course, I’ve had quite a bit of my own stress the past couple of weeks, so I didn’t think much of it, but it does seem kind of strange how it seems to be getting worse rather than better as my own stress level comes down.  It seems I still ask, “Is this mine?” far later than I might.

For those unfamiliar, empathy is a heightened ability to intuit the emotions and energies of other people (and animals, plants, the planet, too… but that’s a different post).  It’s really as simple as that.  Some people consider it a “psychic” ability, as there are those of us who receive this information without any traditionally perceivable way of knowing it.  I personally don’t feel there is anything supernatural about it, but then I also don’t feel there’s anything supernatural about any of the “psychic” abilities that I personally have witnessed.  I think there is a great variety of human experience that our Western society does not acknowledge or embrace.  This does not mean it’s supernatural or that it doesn’t have a logical and rational explanation.  And yet, I find I’m less and less interested in those explanations (as a primary focus) as I explore these elements of human experience in greater detail.  It’s nice to have hard data and a way to explain things to skeptics (and I still include myself in that category, at times), but it seems less important as I go along.  The term “seeing is believing” can be extrapolated to a lot of what’s come into my awareness in the past year or so – experience is subjective and perception can most definitely be flawed, but there is certainly value in respecting and trusting your own and others’ experiences.

Empathic ability is something that I think we all have to varying degrees.  Some of us experience it in a more pronounced way.  There is likely quite a bit to explain this phenomenon scientifically, but I find that searching out that information doesn’t help nearly as much as just talking to and reading about the experiences of those who know what it is to be empathic.  It’s not very much on the radar of the general population, however, and this makes it difficult for those of us most affected to know what’s going on.  In my experience, lack of awareness makes this ability pretty painful – and not just for the empath.

One thing I’ve learned pretty dramatically is that empathic people do not just sense and (often) absorb others’ energies and emotions, we also are adept at projecting them.  In my case, before I became aware of what was happening, I spent a lot of years unknowingly taking on painful and uncomfortable “stuff” swirling around me and then just as unknowing spitting it back out at everyone around me.  At times, this took the form of irritable tone of voice, knee-jerk reactions, and going into full-on bitch mode for no good reason.  The part that confused and frustrated me, at times leading to a sense of hopelessness and despair, was that reactions from others around me were often worse when I was able to control my outward behavior.  It seemed that the harder I tried to buffer others from the emotions roiling constantly inside me, the more flak I caught for being a bitch, for behaving inappropriately (when I wasn’t), and for pissing people off.

What I have come to believe is that the reason others’ reactions to me got worse instead of better when I reigned my behavior in without having awareness of the energetic principles underlying it, is that people sense incongruency and find it bothersome, to put it mildly.  Some of us are able to roll with the punches, so to speak, while others get very easily unbalanced.  Without conscious awareness, I believe that many people felt the dissonance, regardless of my outward behavior, and went looking for reasons to be offended with me, to justify the way they felt – to justify the things they were empathing from me.  Whether the person in question was particularly empathic or not didn’t really matter – this is the part I had to learn the hard way.  I, as an empath, have a great ability to project, as well as absorb, emotional energies.  And many of the people I’ve come into contact with didn’t really know what hit them.  Kind of like what I’ve experienced my whole life, ironically…

I always thought it was all mine, although I could never understand why I was so depressed and irritable when my life was really pretty wonderful.  I totally bought into the idea that my “illness” was clinical depression, a verifiable brain chemical imbalance, a medical condition.  What other explanation did I have?  It didn’t make any sense that I was feeling the way I did – and medication did help.  With awareness, I came to know that most of what I felt and experienced wasn’t actually mine.  Sure, the things I sensed resonated with me – otherwise, they wouldn’t have had any effect whatsoever, I suspect.  But I was taking responsibility and personally owning every random emotion and energy I sensed in the world around me, not having any clue that very little of it was based in my own direct experiences and history.  As I learned to understand what was happening, I found ways to reduce the feelings of chaos as everything hit me.  I learned to recognize that I could let things go fairly easily when they belonged to other people.  I learned to recognize when something uncomfortable was truly my own.  And this process is ongoing with a very steep learning curve – I’m not sure the learning will ever be done.  I have a feeling this is a lifelong process.

As I become more centered and balanced (it varies by the day, as I’m sure it does for most of us, but I can say that I’m much better at it than I was before coming to awareness), I find it easier to avoid taking on what isn’t mine.  I find it easier to release what isn’t mine.  I find it easier to recognize what is mine.  But I still mess up a lot.  I still tend to go straight to thinking that everything is mine.  It’s too ingrained in me that this is the way the world works – we don’t feel other people’s feelings.  We don’t sense what we have no “rational” way of sensing.

As I gained understanding, I came across another empath and discussed this issue with her.  We had worked together briefly prior to my coming to awareness of my empathic nature, and she most definitely sensed the chaos.  We came back together years later, after I had become aware and started to get a handle on things, and she sensed the difference in a pretty significant way.  She had been taught, as a child, how to effectively manage her energies by an aware mother (oh, what I wouldn’t have given for that gift… but it’s not something most of us get and apparently not what I was meant to have on my path), so what I was learning seemed elementary to her.  The interesting thing is that no matter what I projected, this person never did respond to me reactively, as most others had to varying degrees.  I openly discussed this with her, and it came down to the fact that my energies did not affect her the same way they did others – because she was aware and had learned skills to manage what she allowed to affect her.  Really, this is a great lesson for us all.  Whether you have great empathic ability or not, learning to manage your own energies and maneuver through environments thick with emotional energies (which include, well, most places where people come together for any reason!) gives you a measure of freedom from being unduly affected by others’ shit.  Whether that is native to the person in question or simply reflected by an unaware empath, it’s a good thing to understand and know.  Once I became aware, I found it interesting to watch which people reacted poorly to me when I felt agitated (it happens – and will continue to happen as long as I am human!) and which let it slide right off them without a second thought.  Most people seem somewhere in between.  I’m sure most people are not conscious of what is happening, regardless of their reaction.  The dynamics are endlessly varied and interesting, but it gives me a lot to think about!

So next time you find yourself inexplicably irritated or suddenly in the grips of any strong positive or negative emotion for reasons you can’t fathom, maybe think a little about what I’ve said here.  We are connected in ways that the vast majority of us have not been taught or made aware of.  Being blind to it does not make it any less so.  For centuries and mellenia before we understood how our own biochemistry worked, it still did work in relatively predictable ways.  Adrenaline still pumped through our ancestors when they got scared thousands of years ago, even though they didn’t know how neurotransmitters functioned.  For me, awareness has been power, and my life has become far more peaceful, far less chaotic.  Here’s to wishing anyone reading along will find their own awareness and greater understanding of who we are and how we tick – in ways that make a difference for peaceful living and serving each other with good will and grace.

Vulnerability, Boundaries, and Discernment

I have been blessed with some fantastic teachers.  During the past year, especially, as a time of intense and dramatic change, I have been grateful for the guidance with which I’ve been gifted.  I do believe that when the student is ready, the teacher appears, and I have to say that my newest teacher has provided such necessary advice and perspective at just exactly the right time that I find myself flooded with a sense of gratitude that’s a little difficult to describe.

It’s nice when a teacher is someone you can shake hands with or give a hug, but it’s not always the case.  I find myself thrilled for the times in which we live, when information can be shared and accessed so easily, when the reach of any single person has been greatly expanded.  In fact, so much is this the case that at times when I find the perfect bit of information, I feel that only divine intervention could have brought me to it.

Such is the case with Robert Ohotto, an intuitive spiritual teacher who lives in Boulder, Colorado – and whom I’ve never met.

Hmmm… He’s kind of… a hottie… *shakes head*  But I digress… 

A couple of weeks ago, I felt called to examine exactly how far I was willing to go in the name of human connection, how much intimacy I was prepared to allow, and whether I was courageous enough to approach my shadow self in doing so.  I can’t say what prompted this intense level of introspection, nor what triggered the fear and dread at the thought of embracing the apparent vulnerability that the whole exercise entailed.  I had a distinct sense that once I moved through the challenge of whatever I was approaching, I would somehow be initiated into an ease with certain relationships that I had not known before.   To say that this process was uncomfortable is a little bit of an understatement, made even more so by the lack of any specific event that may have triggered it.   I have never felt like hiding in quite that way before, and I found myself wanting to shut everyone out, even my nearest and dearest.  The only exception was my wonderfully supportive spouse.

In confusion, I sought information about soul relationships.  I wanted to understand why I was feeling so deeply affected and what I could do about it.  I wanted to understand why I was fleeing the scene, so to speak, when there was nothing I could see that would inspire me to want to withdraw.  Although most of the information out there seems to focus on finding and keeping a life partner, I managed to find an excellent interview with Robert Ohotto on Steve Maraboli’s radio show.  The interview lasted an hour, but it took me three hours to listen to it because I kept having to stop and write things down in my journal.

Needless to say, when I found that Robert Ohotto had written a book, I downloaded it to my iPad and dug right in.

This book has addressed so many of the questions I’ve had and not been able to fully verbalize.  It’s expanded my understanding in ways that would turn out to be important in the days that followed.  Within a week of buying the book, my personal circumstances had been thrown up in the air.  As I was waiting for the dust to settle, observing the effects of the resulting strain on my body, and somehow (remarkably) maintaining a space for myself somewhere near my center, Robert’s words were of great comfort to me and supported the perspective I most certainly wanted to maintain as I walked through these challenges.  There are times when a book or a conversation makes such an enduring impact on you that you know you will not forget it, possibly for your entire life.  I think this has been one of those times.

As may be surmised from my post yesterday, some of the flak that has resulted from the disruptions of the week have left me with a sense of not really understanding what’s appropriate in relating to other people in healthy ways.  I have had a lot of confusion in knowing what a healthy boundary is, how to take care of myself, how to evaluate when to trust people and when to concern myself with self-protection, how to open to deep intimacy and the vulnerability that brings without “casting my pearls before swine,” so to speak.   And what can I expect from other people?  What should I demand of other people?  Anything?  Nothing?  Let’s just say that I’ve had a lot of questions, and while I feel I’m making progress toward some answers, I have really had a hard time connecting the dots.

After reading Mr. Ohotto’s book on Fate and Destiny, which really helped me focus on things from a soul perspective, I found I wanted to go back to the original material that led me to his work – the concepts surrounding relationships with ourselves and others.  I went to his website and found another tremendous gift in the form of his Soul Connections mp3 downloadable workshops.

Here are my thoughts on the insights that are clicking the puzzle pieces into place for me:

“Honoring the self through boundaries allows us to cultivate the safety we need in relationships so that we can feel healthy vulnerability with others and with our own self.”  The piece that many people are missing, and the part that has confused me for much of my life, is what we expect others to do with our boundaries.  Is it an ultimatum or an expression of self-respect? Both?  I had no idea.   I know it’s necessary to stand up for myself, but how to go about that in a peaceful way that doesn’t manipulate the choice of others?  Often, it’s easy to just say that we don’t care what others think of our boundaries, but saying that – at least for me – is not truthful.  I do care.  I want to be heard and validated.  Yet, you can’t force another to hear or validate anything.  It has made me wonder what I’m missing, and it can make it tempting to give up on the whole “healthy vulnerability” idea.  What’s the point of being vulnerable if it only gets you kicked in the teeth?  There is risk in relationships, and as events of this week have shown me, you don’t always get what you expect.  With the inherent risk and the idea that you can never control the outcome or know what will happen when a disagreement comes up, how can you put yourself out there?

I’ve been gradually working on this issue with the help of my Team (as Ohotto calls it – I like that!).  One of my guides in particular has given me some paradigm-shifting information about love and connection within the past few weeks.  Robert Ohotto’s workshop has filled out the concepts and connected the dots in a way I can be nothing but grateful for, and as is often the case, it ends up being so elegantly simple when it comes down to it.

Insisting that others change or that the environment change is actually a violation of others’ boundaries.  I think this is the part I’ve sensed and not been able to reconcile with the idea of standing up for my own boundaries.  I know I need to stand up for myself, but I don’t know what I expect to happen when I do.  I can hope that the other will respond with openness, but sometimes that’s just impossible – either in the moment or at all.  People have their own paths, and I am reluctant to tie my own outcome to what they may choose or be capable of in the moment that I verbalize my own truth.  It may not line up with theirs, and where does that put us?

What Ohotto’s material makes clear is that boundaries are about self-care, about what we need to feel safe.  Others cannot determine that for us and they also cannot validate that for us.  The inner self, what he calls “inner authority,” determines the validity of our boundaries.  To deny our boundaries is therefore to deny our very selves.  Where things get sticky is when we use judgment instead of discernment in reference to our boundaries.  “I’m hurt because you’re bad.”  There are a lot of ways we say this to ourselves and other people.  In the case of the hurt I’ve felt because of an interaction with a trusted friend this week, he believed I was saying exactly this to him: “I hurt because you suck.”  It can be difficult to hear someone say, “That hurt me.”  Is it our shadow selves that add, “Because you are evil”?  And is this tendency one reason why it can be so difficult to negotiate the hurts we feel with those we are closest to?  Is it worth it to risk that what we say will be interpreted as judgment or condemnation?  Or is it easier to swallow the hurt and keep the peace?  What about those times when you know the other person didn’t mean offense, yet you’re hurt anyway?  Do we have no right to our feelings and our needs in those times?

There is a great tendency, when people are hurt, to make someone wrong, to assign the Scapegoat Archetype, as Ohotto references it.  What has been painful for me is that my friend believes I’m trying to make him wrong when really I’m just wanting to be heard.  And the reason I want to be heard, the reason it’s so important to me, is because I can’t feel safe and I can’t invest myself deeply in any relationship unless I feel I can speak my truth, even if that truth seems irrational or misguided or off-the-mark.  If the relationship did not matter to me, would I feel it was important to negotiate the hurt?  Probably not.  What has become clear to me is that the boundary shifts with the relationship.  The stakes are higher in some relationships, and my need to feel safe is more pronounced in those relationships.  What voicing the hurt is all about is saying, “When this happens, I do not feel safe with you.”  The unstated part, at least in my case, is, “It is important to me that we feel safe with one another.”

Ohotto says, “Boundaries give you the room to express what your feelings are without apologies, without judgment – the space to draw into your life people that can match the quality of vulnerability that you’re cultivating with yourself.”  This brings me back to my earlier mention of how others may respond to my boundaries.  I can’t force anyone to respect my boundaries.  I can’t force them to hear me, and I certainly don’t want to manipulate the situation – because what exactly would be the point?  What can I expect – what should I expect – from other people?  What if they are unwilling or unable to respond in the way I need in order to feel safe in the relationship?  What then?

Ohotto’s insights focus on the fact that our empowerment comes from our willingness to be vulnerable in the face of the risk that our openness may not be rewarded.  Our power comes not from manipulating the outcome but in honoring the self by refusing to place ourselves in relationships and environments where we do not feel safe.  We can develop a certain level of resistance or tolerance to a great many situations – and it requires discernment to know where our limits are.  I may be able to tolerate a toxic environment by putting on my “spiritual sunblock,” but when I’ve been in that environment for longer than the sunblock is able to protect me, it’s time for me to leave.  I find that with those I trust at a deep level, with those I’m more open and unguarded with, my SPF is not very great (or perhaps more accurately, the “sun” is just so much brighter).  It’s easier to be hurt, but it’s also easier to forgive.  Yet, it’s also more necessary to make sure my boundaries are not violated.  If they are and there is no resolution, then naturally, I have to remove myself – or suffer the consequences of not honoring myself.  It’s easier to get burned on the beach than while driving in my car.  When I am open and vulnerable – when I’ve chosen to be so, it’s important for me to understand that I’m on the beach.  The beach is glorious, and a hell of a lot more fun than sitting in traffic… but it requires more of me in terms of understanding my own boundaries.  And knowing this makes it easier for me to understand that others have similar needs when it comes to my role in their lives.

The whole idea behind cognitive behavioral therapy (which by the way, is really useful in relationships and in learning to understand how our beliefs influence our feelings) is to recognize how a perception leads to an emotional outcome that can feel very real to one person and seem totally off-the-mark to another.  It’s about recognizing that it’s not events that affect us but our perception of them.  So, going back to a hurt that I legitimately feel but which is not understood by the person who “inflicted” it, how do we reconcile boundaries with perception?

Another quote from Ohotto: “Vulnerability is also about being honest with yourself, not bullshitting yourself, being really clear about what your limits are, and frank about what your capabilities are and are not… We sometimes think the goal is to not have any needs.  No!  The goal is to embrace every need we have, even the shadow ones!  And then heal them cuz we can’t heal them unless we embrace them. Embracing them doesn’t mean we act out of our shadow needs.  It just means that they are okay.  What they’re saying to you is that there’s a part of you that needs more love, not more judgment, not more criticism.  Embracing the shadow needs is important in embracing all of who you are.”

The bit about healing our needs is quite important, I think.  This has been part of the puzzle for me and what frankly makes it difficult to get out of right-vs-wrong thinking.  Was I wrong to perceive things the way I did?  Is my friend wrong to have his take on things?  I know, at a basic level, that it’s not about right and wrong, and in the case of someone I love very much, I don’t care to make him wrong.  I don’t care to make myself wrong.  The idea that needs can be healed is really speaking to me right now.  It means we don’t have to judge those needs as right and wrong.  They just are.  Just like emotions, they are not right or wrong.  It is important to me that my needs be acknowledged because the relationship is important to me.  I know that the relationship will not be what it can be if my needs are not acknowledged within it.  But I also know that I cannot dictate the other person’s choices.  What I can determine is whether I will give myself the acknowledgment I need.  That is self-honoring, and that is healing.  If my perception is off-track, shaming myself or making myself wrong leads only to more damage (and of course, the same applies to making someone else “wrong”).  If I embrace my needs, I am giving that part of myself that needs more love the very love it needs.

I hope that my most cherished relationships can grow with my expressions of boundaries and their underlying needs.  I hope I can openly embrace the underlying needs of the ones I love.  But ultimately, I know that my primary responsibility is in honoring the self and secondarily in negotiating compromises with others over perceptions and misunderstandings.  Those things will work themselves out, in the context of relating, as long as we are able to negotiate our individual boundaries with each other.  Ohotto says: “This is what boundaries give you: the capacity and space to show up and be seen for all you are in the moment.”  In the moment. Not in a perfect world or a perfect state.  “We can’t be everything.  We can’t be always perfect and always powerful.  Our emerging definition of power actually includes vulnerability.  Vulnerability and boundaries give you the chance to identify what your authentic needs are and risk getting them met in relationships with others.”

For the first time I understand how it is okay, how it is self-honoring to open to the risk of vulnerability with others.  I’ve always done it, yet every time I’m hurt (as will happen in all human relationships from time to time), I find myself wondering what I did wrong, whether I’m missing some self-protective chip that somehow wasn’t installed at the factory.  I wonder if I’m a glutton for punishment.  I wonder if there’s some vital concept I just don’t understand.  I wonder if relationships are supposed to hurt.  I wonder if I’m supposed to protect myself better.  So, thank you, Robert Ohotto, from your corner of the world in Boulder, Colorado, for clearing up so much of this for me.  I feel good about reaching out and knowing that it’s not misguided to do so. I understand that humans need each other and that being hurt doesn’t mean I’m wrong about that.  And I understand that when another chooses something that grieves me, chooses not to honor my boundaries or embrace my needs – it’s okay.  I am able to honor myself, and I will pick myself up and try again, knowing that this is part of the design of things.

Trust me

I’ve certainly had a dramatic week.  On the whole, now that most of the adrenaline appears to be wearing off and I’m able to actually eat normally again,  I think things are… good.

There have been so many shifts in such quick succession over the past year that you’d think I’d be getting used to it.  But maybe I’ll never get used to it.  One thing I can tell you is that I’m gaining confidence in the process, and what a process it’s been this week: hurt feelings, a rift with a dear friend, crashing against walls and standing up for myself, moving to the next phase of my life and thoroughly pissing people off in the process, burning bridges and – most surprising of all – discovering support I had not anticipated would be there. I feel that so much of what has happened this week has been necessary to propel me (and possibly others?) along the path.  I feel, underneath all the madness, there is support from larger powers and that things are orchestrated to come together for my best possible good.  It seems nuts given the surface circumstances, but it’s a feeling I can’t shake.

I am having a big batch of confusion over one concept in particular right now.  This concept is trust.

I’ve come to wonder what trust even means to me.  I can’t quite figure out my pattern. I don’t know what it means.  A year ago I would have said I trust fairly easily.  When someone close to me made observations that I have some trouble with trust at a deeper level, I didn’t see it but thought perhaps it was true.  As I’ve thought about it and observed my own reactions over the past several months, I realize that both are true.  I do trust easily – perhaps a little too easily.  I tend to give most folks a baseline level of trust until they do something to cause me to withdraw it.  And for those who earn it, they get a little – or a lot – more.  But the people I trust truly, completely, and deeply are few and far between, and I have found that even when I want to open to that kind of complete trust, it can be difficult.

I suspect this is a tough one for nearly everyone.  We are human and we all have our flaws, our shortcomings, and our inability to see beyond our own perspective at times. Even the most thoughtful and considerate person will have blind spots, and this means that no matter how trustworthy, there’s always the capacity for hurt and feelings of betrayal.  I don’t know about you, but when unexpected and hurtful behavior comes from someone I thought was entirely trustworthy, it can make the ground I stand on feel a little shaky.  I start to question whether my trust was misplaced.  I start to wonder if I see only what I want to see in other people, what I’d like them to be.  I find myself beating a hasty retreat, literally or figuratively, so that I can have some time and space to figure things out without risking further upheaval until I feel like I know what’s what.

But here’s what’s extraordinary.  I’ve been shown this week that it works the other way, as well.  While there’s always the risk that someone I trusted will behave in a way I didn’t expect, there’s also the possibility that someone I don’t trust will behave in a way I didn’t expect.  There’s the possibility of reconciliation I had long ago given up on.  You’d think this would be reassuring to me, and in a way it certainly is.  But in another sense, it only makes me feel that I don’t understand anything about trust.  I don’t know who to trust, or how, or why.  I don’t know when it’s wise to trust, when it’s advisable to proceed with caution.  I don’t understand how to sort through this stuff.  I don’t understand what to do when I feel betrayed by someone I thought would never betray me.  I don’t know what to do when I am supported by someone I had long since given up on expecting support from.  And I have a terrible time understanding duplicity in all the forms it takes because for whatever reason, there’s not a heck of a lot of it present in me.  I’m a straight-shooter, and I don’t understand it.  I don’t understand guile to the point that I forget it exists.  I don’t understand that the person who smiles in my face may stab me in the back.  In short, I don’t know who to trust.

Maybe because it’s easier, I just trust everyone.  Until I can’t.  Until they show me I can’t.  Until they then show me that I was wrong and now I can again…  My husband wonders at how quickly I can forgive and how willing I am to see the best, to try to understand the motivations behind others’ behavior.  My answer to him is that I just find it too painful to carry the anger and the hurt – by understanding the other point of view, maybe I can let things go.  But I also know that despite any understanding I may come to, even when I am successful in letting go of self-consciousness and moving on as if all is well, there are niggling little questions that lay under the surface.  During times such as this past week, when everything comes to a boiling point, it’s easy to believe I’m alone in the world, to feel that I have no way of knowing who my friends are, to retreat inside myself and question whether I can find trust in this world.  Were it not for my precious life partner this week, I don’t know how I would have made it through.

I can tell you what I believe.  I believe it’s probably impossible to live a fulfilled life without the ability to trust.  And I also believe that it’s probably impossible to lead a fulfilled life without boundaries.  I just don’t understand where the balance is between the two.

Holding space for our planet

It seems lately my entire experience is about shifting.  One shift after another, the next hot on the heels of the last, on and on for over a year now.  At times this rapid growth is exhilarating; at times exhausting.  And as I go along, the less I feel I know.  This has felt consternating to me.  Like a good many of us, especially those of us with backgrounds that include years of formal education, I feel safe and comfortable when I am able to wrap my brain around my experiences, define them, categorize them, and explain them to others.  In explaining to others, I explain to myself.  I’m a prime example of someone who tends to process verbally (with deep apologies to the many friends and loved ones who put up with the most verbally vomitus stages of my life).

Getting out of my head has been a challenge, to put it mildly.

I am starting to get the first stirrings of understanding regarding this concept.  By  understanding, I mean I’m starting to get an inkling of what it truly means to process on a completely different level, out of the influence of my rational mind.  Don’t get me wrong, the rational mind is still jumping in make loud “la-la-la!” noises and working hard to categorize and interpret.  But I’m getting glimpses of what it might mean to learn to perceive from a space outside the rational mind. 

This is going to have huge implications for my healing work.  In fact, I’m not sure my healing work can be truly effective if I fail to walk this path. 

I’ve been working with Rolfer, Zen monk and energy healer Jeffrey Maitland.  He is author of a wonderful book called Mind Body Zen.  Working with him has been eliciting some pretty major shifts, and reading his work has similarly brought my attention to a few more missing pieces of my personal puzzle.  I still don’t “get it.”  But I’m starting to sense that there is something to “get” – something my rational mind will never grasp because it is not within the rational mind’s ability to do so.  Dr. Maitland’s essays are wonderfully descriptive, in my opinion – they begin with concepts that I’m not familiar with and have trouble even understanding; then as he develops his ideas, it becomes clear in a way that I begin to see how little I see… and that tiny peek is freeing.  It shows me there is something more to see and know than I was aware of, even if I know I’m not exactly grasping it yet.  More importantly, I’m being shown by this gentle man through his words and his works that there is knowing beyond the way I’ve always known things.  There are things that can only be known if I can accept that the rational mind cannot know them.  It is outside the scope of my thinking mind to know a good many things.  How glaringly obvious it’s beginning to seem.  How could I have missed that for so long?

I’ve been distressed about the reports this week that the U.S. government (the president and the USDA) have granted complete disregulation to Monsanto to proceed with unleashing both genetically modified sugar beets and alfalfa into our biosphere.  It’s beyond the scope of what I am writing about today to explain why this is such a heavy hit for those of us who care about the well-being of our planet and food supply.  This interview does an excellent job of explaining the various issues involved.

In thinking about the disappointment and anger that rise up over these decisions, wading through the temptation to demoralization over the state of our planet and the fact that corporate interests are more important to our government than the well-being of the people and nature… somewhere in there I recall something I read in Dr. Maitland’s book:

Those who live in harmony with the Tao have an uncommon and numinous ability to effect change in the world.  They do not try to bring about change through their own efforts or by means of the will alone.  Since their actions flow from not-doing, they do not use force or interfere with the natural course of things.  They don’t think about their actions, because they flow from the core of their being. They don’t fall into passivity or resignation or giving up.  Without doing anything in particular, they simply remain connected to the problem and hold the problem in their awareness while giving it the space it needs to change.”  [p. 193]

There is such a temptation to try to force this situation to change. I feel a great temptation to anger, to frustration, to upset and irritation.  I hardly think that represents the flow that arises from “not-doing.” It doesn’t feel like flow at all. It feels like powerlessness.

I can’t help but think that after the little I feel good about doing in a direct way, perhaps the most important thing I can do is to “remain connected to the problem and hold the problem in my awareness while giving it the space to change.” This concept extends to a method of healing wherein the “healer” creates a space where the client’s body, psyche, and being can find its own way to balance. Quoting Dr. Maitland again:

Whether the therapist touches his client or not, it is absolutely critical in both cases that the therapist have no intention whatsoever to change or heal anything.  The practitioner’s primary job is not to have a job, but to fundamentally change his or her orientation from doing to not-doing.  He must get out of the way, drop his or her self and any agenda for change.  The practitioner must simply listen to what the body and the organizing forces want to reveal and then allow them to undo problems in the order that best suits the client… When a therapist learns to work from not-doing, he or she discovers that change does not occur in the same way it used to.  He or she does not so much do the work of manipulation through effort and will as allow things to take their own course.  Less and less is the practitioner inclined to force things or interfere with the body. As a result, more and more he or she experiences things falling into place by themselves.  The therapist is less a cause for change and more the occasion for it.  Instead of directly trying to create a good therapeutic outcome, he or she steps aside and allows room for the kind of change the client’s body can afford.  Through not-doing, he or she allows a clearing within which change becomes possible.  [p. 199]

What, as one person, might I do to create change in our world?  As much as I appreciate the political wranglers, the consumer advocates, the dedicated movers-and-shakers, it violates my own sense of personal flow to consider taking on the powers that be.  I am not called to sue and to wave signs at protests.  I feel good about signing petitions and sending letters to lawmakers and politicians.  I feel good about writing about the issues on my blog and forwarding tidbits to Facebook.  I also feel tempted to give in to anger, grief and frustration.  What can I do?  What can you do?  There are the action items, small or large, that I can move toward when I feel so moved and inspired.  But more importantly, I can practice changing my orientation to the problem, “simply remain[ing] connected to the problem and hold[ing] the problem in [my] awareness while giving it the space it needs to change.”

Dr. Maitland’s description of the intelligence of the body in finding its own healing when a clearing is opened for it to do so applies to planets and populations, as well.  The body is, after all, a microcosm of the larger world.  As the cells of our body are connected to each other, so are we connected to our planet and every living being upon it.  We can heal.  Let us try.

Frustrated

I understand it’s hard for docs to stay in business these days.  I understand that there are challenges to doing integrative/holistic/alternative medicine.  What I do not understand is how a doc can charge $300 for 30 minutes of his/her time.  That’s $10 a MINUTE.  That’s several times worse than calling the psychic hotline, my friend.  Who has that kind of money?!

What is the point in setting up a practice that is supposed to help people if the people it’s meant to help can’t afford it? And how exactly do these inflated costs for a simple consultation do anything other than support the idea that we need overbloated insurance companies to “help” us with the costs? 

I’m disgusted.  I simply need a few moments of time with someone I trust in order to get a script for thyroid hormone, as I do not actually HAVE a thyroid anymore.  I’m familiar with how it goes but need a prescriber.  And I have to pay $300 per visit for that?  It just doesn’t make any sense.  It’s madness.  And if it comes down to this, why would I not just continue on with the conventional pill pushers as I always have?  If the integrative/holistic folks are going to charge these outrageous prices, why not just go back to the synthetic hormones I know I can afford?  Do they realize this is the position they’re putting people in? 

I want to give people the benefit of the doubt, but to me it just seems greedy.  It seems as though they know the people who seek out alternative care are largely higher-income, well-educated people.  Are they counting on that and dismissing everyone else?  It doesn’t seem right…

Duzza Hazza, aka Brokenhearted

My good friend Jill shared a story with me many years ago. I’m not sure with whom this story originated, and delivery is key (which will not be accomplished in a blog post), but I’ll share the meat of it anyway.

A friend of Jill’s was walking down a street in some urban area, when a little girl sitting on a stoop turned to another little girl sitting on the stoop and said:

“What TIIIIHZ a DUZZA HAZZA CUZON?”*

Of course, the reaction to this charming anecdote universally has a predictable reaction: say what?

I have been thinking about the Duzza Hazza story today because that’s kind of how I feel lately: say what?  In other words, I just don’t understand.

I’ve been putting a lot of psychic energy into clearing away trapped emotions of anger and fear over the past several weeks.  Within the past two or three weeks, a lot of game-changing events have cropped up.  In fact, there’s been a lot of intense personal and spiritual change going on over the past (not even) year for me.  Sometimes it can feel overwhelming, but generally speaking, I like being on the fast track, learning new ways to be, gaining even more hope that I can thrive on this dense little planet.  I feel less alone than I probably ever have.  I feel more connected to Spirit and more connected to my fellow human beings.  I’m early on the path, but some days I venture the thought that maybe I’m starting to get it (whatever it may be).

Part of this process is moving through a lot of ups and downs.  Change is exhilarating and stomach-churning, overwhelming and exciting.  We’re creatures of habit and like our stability, even when change is our focus and our heartfelt desire.  I’ve been up and down so many times I’ve lost count.  I tend to have radical shifts on average every 2-4 days.  Exhausting?  Understatement.  Rewarding?  Understatement.  My heart grows wider even as sometimes I feel temporarily less capable of moving through the world with ease and grace.  Every time I think I’m full to bursting, I get a little more, and my heart seems to accommodate that as well.

Make no mistake – it’s been at times a concerted effort to keep my heart open and awake.  There have been times it’s hurt like hell and I wanted nothing more than to shut myself off, take myself away and find some way to bring sanity back to my world.  And I’ve come too far for that; I know there is no sanity to be found in that.  I know there is only more pain and less understanding.  So I move forward, and I try my best to be graceful about it, to have a sense of gratitude about it, to stop trying to figure it out and just feel whatever comes, to keep my heart open when I’ve spent a lifetime trying to shut it down in a somewhat misguided attempt to protect myself from the overwhelming energies that come my way.

I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.  It’s not an ego-based proud – at least I hope not.  It’s a gratitude-based proud.  I know what brings me here is grace, and the only thing left for me to do is accept.  So simple and yet such a challenge at times.  As I’ve accepted… and accepted… and accepted some more… emotions, thoughts and feelings come to my awareness.  Many of them, I’ve been able to let go – remarkable freedom which only leaves me with a deeper desire to clear the rest.  The fear, the anger – nuances of these two seem to have presented themselves again and again over the past couple of months, and I’ve seen over and over again the influence they have had on my life, my choices, and my struggles.  And now there’s a new one.  Sadness.  Pure unmitigated sorrow.

I am having trouble knowing what this sadness is about – it seems to be about everything and nothing.  It seems believable that it’s about loss – present and past.  It seems believable that it’s about mourning – present and past.  But ultimately, I just have a profound sense of sadness over the past few days.  I feel broken at times, and I don’t know what it’s about.

Say what?

It’s not that I never feel sad.  Of course I do.  I just feel angry more often, and this is something I recognized as far back as my teens – consciously recognized – as being preferable to sadness.  The vulnerability has so often seemed too much to bear, even at times completely unwise to engage in.  And what is to be done about it?  Anger can be so yang, so action-oriented, such movement and ferocity… sadness – maybe I never learned to sit with it very well.  Maybe now is the time.  I read these words by Osho today, and they remind me of my recent experience in releasing negative emotions, although I think most of the releasing I’ve been doing is related to past emotions that I never let go of.  (And yes, the trembling and shaking really does happen – it’s not just dramatic language, at least not in my case.) Maybe the sadness comes now because it underlies so much of what I’ve been able to release so far… or maybe there is present sadness and I am learning for the first time to be still with it.

Those who go into deep silence and solitude, they always ask me, “There will be fear, so what to do?”  I tell them not to do anything, just to live the fear.  If trembling comes, tremble.  Why prevent it?  If an inner fear is there, and you are shaking with it, so shake with it.  Don’t do anything.  Allow it to happen.  It will go by itself.  If you can avoid it – and you can avoid it… you will be pacified and the fear will not be there.  You have pushed it into the unconscious.  It was coming out – which was good, you were going to be free from it – it was leaving you and when it leaves you, you will tremble.  That is natural because from every cell of the body, of the mind, some energy which has always been there pushed down, is leaving.  There will be a shaking, a trembling; it will be just like an earthquake.  The whole soul will be disturbed by it, but let it be.  Don’t do anything.  That is my advice… Don’t try to do anything with it because all that you can do will again be suppression.  Just by allowing it to be, by letting it be, it will leave you – and when it has left, you will be altogether… different…

The cyclone has gone and you will now be centered as you never were before.  And once you know the art of letting things be, you will know one of the master keys which opens all the inner doors.  Then whatsoever the case is, let it be, don’t avoid it.

If just for three months you can be in total solitude, in total silence, not fighting anything, allowing everything to be, whatsoever it is, within three months the old will be gone and the new will be there.  But the secret is allowing it to be, however fearful, painful, howsoever apparently dangerous, deathlike.  Many moments will come when you will feel as if you will go mad if you don’t do something and involuntarily you will start to do something.  You may know that nothing can be done, but you will not be in control and you will start to do something…

Remain a witness, and allow whatsoever happens to happen.  Fear has to be faced to go beyond it.  Anguish has to be faced to transcend it.  And the more authentic the encounter, the more face to face, the more looking at things as they are, the sooner the happening will be there… So don’t ask what to do.  There is no need to do anything.  Nondoing, witnessing, effortlessly facing whatsoever is, not even making a slight effort, just allowing it to be… remain passive and let it pass.  It always passes.

It’s been a very long time since I opened a Bible, but during meditation, a phrase from The Religious Years ™ came to me again and again: a broken and contrite heart.  This is mentioned more than once in scripture, and some of it has connotations that mean little to me at the moment, but this one speaks to me:

Jehovah is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart, And saveth such as are of a contrite spirit.  Psalms 34:18.

-American Standard Version

The word “save” kind of plays into some negative connotations for me, as well – other translations use different words, sometimes “rescues.”  No matter.  The idea is that God (however one defines God) is closeby when our hearts are broken.  Why is this?  What is the purpose of heartbreak?

Pema Chodron addresses it well in Taking the Leap:

When my second marriage fell apart, I tasted the rawness of grief, the utter groundlessness of sorrow, and all the protective shields I had always managed to keep in place fell to pieces.  To my surprise, along with the pain, I also felt an uncontrived tenderness for other people.  I remember the complete openness and gentleness I felt for those I met briefly in the post office or at the grocery story.  I found myself approaching the people I encountered as just like me – fully alive, fully capable of meanness and kindness, of stumbling and falling down and of standing up again.  I’d never before experienced that much intimacy with unknown people.  I could look into the eyes of store clerks and car mechanics, beggars and children, and feel our sameness.  Somehow when my heart broke, the qualities of natural warmth, qualities like kindness and empathy and appreciation, just spontaneously emerged…

The natural warmth that emerges when we experience pain includes all the heart qualities: love, compassion, gratitude, tenderness in any form.  It also includes loneliness, sorrow, and the shakiness of fear.  Before these vulnerable feelings harden, before the storylines kick in, these generally unwanted feelings are pregnant with kindness, with openness and caring.  These feelings that we’ve become so accomplished at avoiding can soften us, can transform us.  The openheartedness of natural warmth is sometimes pleasant, sometime unpleasant – as “I want, I like” and as the opposite.  The practice is to train in not automatically fleeing from uncomfortable tenderness when it arises.  With time we can embrace it just as we would the comfortable tenderness of loving-kindness and genuine appreciation…

When things fall apart and we can’t get the pieces back together, when we lose something dear to us, when the whole thing is just not working and we don’t know what to do, this is the time when the natural warmth of tenderness, the warmth of empathy and kindness, are just waiting to be uncovered, just waiting to be embraced.  This is our chance to come out of our self-protective bubble and to realize that we are never alone.  This our chance to fully understand that wherever we go, everyone we meet is essentially just like us.  Our own suffering, if we turn toward it, can open us to a loving relationship with the world.

Pema Chodron’s writings represented my first exposure to the idea that groundlessness, essentially that feeling that the rug has been pulled out from under you and your world has been turned upside down, is a useful state of being.  We all contort in every conceivable way to get our feet back under us, and that’s a very human response.  At some point, perhaps we are blessed to not be able to get our feet back under us.  When that happens, we may have the opportunity to approach our pain in a way that allows us to learn some of the most profound lessons it can teach.  It sounds lovely in a sense but sucks ass when it happens.  My personal goal?  I’d like to learn to heed pain’s message before I end up fully on my ass, scrambling to right myself and wondering what happened.  Possible?  Possibly… but if I do end up on my ass, I tend to remember good ol’ Pema and know that she understands that place and can help bring some healing and wisdom to it.

The underlying current in my life right now is one of dramatic change.  I feel sure the sadness and the other emotions I’ve been learning to release are intimately tied up in an emerging path ahead of me.  I know some things about where this path might lead.  I feel purposefully called even while at times I feel self-doubt.  I don’t know what the landscape will look like when the dust settles. At times it feels I’m building; at times it feels everything is being torn down and I’m starting fresh. William calls it the dark night of the soul.  I guess I haven’t used those words myself because I feel supported on so many levels, even as I crave understanding and feel like I just… don’t.  But – heh – looks like he’s not the only one using that language.  This is another quote from Osho and describes so much of what I am going through.  The interesting part is that my career seems to be mirroring what’s going on inside me… fascinating, really.

A moment comes when you don’t know who you are – and that is the moment from where real knowledge will start.

A moment comes when you forget completely who you are, and all that you knew before is no longer there, all the old leaves have fallen.  Now this is the moment, and now there will be an interval for a time being.  This interval will be of much anguish because the old has left and the new has not yet come.  When the old leaves drop from the tree, the tree will be naked for a few days, just waiting for the new to emerge.  The new leaves are coming, they are on the way, the old have left a place.  Now that the place is vacant the new are flowing towards the space and sooner or later they will emerge.  But you will have to wait.

While meditating in aloneness, society will drop, the mind will drop, the ego will drop and there will be a gap.  You will have to pass through that gap also.  Now the tree is waiting for the new leaves to come… but one cannot do anything.  What can the tree do?  Nothing can be done to bring them sooner, they will take their own course.

It is good that the old have dropped – because now the place is there, space is there for the new to emerge. Now there will be no barrier.

So there is an autumn of the inner mind.  Leaves will drop.  It will be painful.  You have lived with those old leaves for so long that you will feel that you are losing something.  And then there will be a winter of waiting, an inner winter, when you will be nude – with no leaves, a naked tree against the sky – and you don’t know what is going to happen.  Now everything has stopped.  Now no bird comes to sing on your branches; now no one comes to sit under you, under your shadow, to wait, to relax.  Now you are not in any way aware of whether you are dead or whether a new life is going to happen to you.  This is the gap, the interval.

Christian mystics have called it the dark night of the soul – before the sunrise.  All artificial lights have been put off.  The night has become very dark.  And the moment nearest to the sunrise will be the darkest… All movement is gone.  This has to be passed – because then there will be spring, new leaves will come, new life, new flowers.  A totally new dimension will appear within you.

But remember the autumn, remember the winter; only then is spring possible.  The autumn is also part of the spring – if you can understand – it is making the way for the spring to happen.  So autumn is not against spring, it is just the beginning of it.  And the gap is also necessary, because in the gap you become ready.  The old has left.  You are not tormented by it now, not burdened by it.  You are pregnant – but pregnancy is waiting, the new child is growing.  Before it emerges, manifests itself in the world, it will have to hide deep in the unconscious, because every seed has to go deep into darkness, underneath, hidden.  Only then does life happen to it.  If you put the seed in the sunlight, nothing will happen to it.  It needs deep darkness, a womb.  So there will be winter while you are pregnant: all movement ceases, you just have to carry the burden – consciously, understandingly, lovingly, hoping, praying, waiting.  And then there will be spring.  It has always been so.  Man is also a tree.

Stepping away from the gurus for a moment, this is the story I read to Jhaleah at bedtime tonight.

Out of the 30 or so books I just got for her from the library, this is the one I pulled out.  The synchronicity is not lost on me.

Here’s the text from the book (darling illustrations, too):

Out there, where the wind roams,

in a country nearest to the end of the world,

lived a little zebra named Camilla.

 

In that place, the wind was so powerful

that Camilla had to be very careful

not to lose her clothes.

 

Her mother always advised her

not to go out without her trousers or suspenders,

but Camilla was growing bigger every day

and the trousers and suspenders

were beginning to be a nuisance.

 

Camilla daydreamed about lounging in the grass

without all those tight-fitting clothes.

She also imagined that the wind

would blow her away, carrying her through the fields.

 

One day, Camilla ignored her mother’s advice

and left her house…

Do you know what happened?

 

Due to a mighty gust of wind,

she was no longer a striped zebra.

She became something similar to a white mule

wearing a striped t-shirt.

 

When she saw herself so white and bare,

Camilla started to cry.

 

Camilla cried SEVEN tears

for her lost stripes.

 

Afterwards, she stopped to look at a snake

who was shedding her skin.

-Why are you crying? – asked the snake.

-Because a mighty wind blew,

and it took away all my stripes

-she answered, sobbing.

-Come closer.  I’ll give you a ring

for you to wear on your leg – said the snake

(who appeared to know many secrets).

 

Camilla walked away, wearing the ring

with a much lighter heart.

 

She cried SIX tears for the stripes she was missing.

Afterwards, she stopped to look at a snail

who was sunbathing because he was very pale.

 

-Why are you crying? – asked the snail.

-Because a mighty wind blew,

and it took away all my stripes

-she answered, sobbing.

- Come closer.

I’ll climb up your belly

and stick a silver streak on you.

 

Camilla continued walking,

wearing a ring,

a silver streak…

and a much lighter heart.

 

But she was still worried,

so she cried

another FIVE tears.

 

Afterward, she stopped to look at a rainbow

and stared at it, trying to count all its colors.

-Why are you crying? – asked the rainbow.

-Because a mighty wind blew,

and it took away all my stripes

-she answered, sobbing.

-Come closer.  I’ll hand you a bow made of silk,

as cool as a beautiful spring morning.

 

Camilla continued walking,

wearing a ring,

a silver streak,

a nice bow made of silk…

and a much lighter heart.

 

She cried FOUR more tears

for the stripes she was still missing.

 

Afterwards, she stopped to look at a spider

who was embroidering a beautiful cloth.

-Why are you crying? – asked the spider.

-Because a  mighty wind blew,

and it took away all my stripes

-she answered, sobbing.

-Come closer.

I’ll knit a little ribbon as black as ink

which will make you look very elegant.

 

Camilla continued walking,

wearing a ring, a silver streak,

a nice bow made of silk, a ribbon as black as ink…

and a much lighter heart.

 

She wept THREE more tears

for the stripes she was still missing.

 

Afterwards, she stopped to look at a cicada

who was playing a catchy tune.

-Why are you crying? – asked the cicada.

-Because a mighty wind blew,

and it took away all my stripes

-she answered, sobbing.

-Come closer.  I’ll give you

a string from my violin

so my music can keep you company.

 

Camilla continued walking,

wearing a ring, a silver streak,

a nice bow made of silk, a ribbon as black as ink,

a string from a violin…

and a much lighter heart.

 

When she was almost home, she cried TWO more tears

for the stripes she was missing.

 

Afterwards, she stopped to look at a goose

who was limping because one of her boots was too tight.

-Why are you crying? – asked the goose.

-Because a mighty wind blew,

and it took away all my stripes

-she answered, sobbing.

-Come closer.  I’ll tie

my boot lace to your back

and we’ll both be much

more comfortable.

 

The goose happily walked away,

after taking off her boot.

 

Camilla had walked for miles, when, at last,

she arrived home, wearing a ring,

a silver streak, a nice bow made of silk,

a ribbon as black as ink, a string from a violin,

a boot lace fastened with a small pin…

and an almost completely light heart.

 

Camilla’s mom was sitting in the doorway.

Camilla approached her with ONE tear

sliding down her cheek.

 

-I’ve been looking for you, Camilla,

where have you been?

-It’s all the wind’s fault because…

(Her mom ignored her

because she had something very important to say).

-Listen to me, Camilla: you are almost an adult now,

and it’s time for you to forget about

wearing trousers and suspenders.

 

But when she saw the tear

running down Camilla’s cheek,

her mom tried to comfort her:

-Don’t cry.

I’ve braided a strand of my mane into

a long thread for you to wear.

 

Camilla, who had grown a lot,

stood on tiptoe and, without her trousers

and suspenders,

gave her mother a big, big hug.

 

And she posed and displayed her new self,

so her mother could get a good look at her,

wearing a ring,

a silver streak,

a nice bow made of silk,

a ribbon as black as ink,

a string from a violin,

a boot lace fastened with a small pin,

a long thread which made her look smart,

and a very, very, very light heart.

 

*translation: “What time does the Dukes of Hazzard come on?”

Medical Apartheid – an article by Dr. Larry Malerba

This article should be required reading for every citizen of the United States – and possibly the entire Western World.  This says it all.  Very, very important stuff.  If you can’t be bothered to read the entire (short) article, I’ve added emphasis to the points I feel most important for us to understand as a people.

- A.

Let’s face it, we have created an increasingly divided medical system that resembles a form of apartheid. This medical apartheid is, not surprisingly, a reflection the polarized society in which we live. The etymology of the term “apart-heid” essentially translates into “separate” “hood.” The unnatural divide has reached extreme proportions as the balance of power tips more in favor of modern technological medicine with each passing decade. The pervasive influence of the medical-industrial complex has become so routine that we tend to equate medicalization (the expansion of medical authority into almost all aspects of our lives) with good medicine. The medical profession, once a personal calling to soothe the suffering and heal the sick, has instead become a profit-seeking corporate conglomerate whose primary purpose is to sustain itself.

Our current medical apartheid found its beginnings in the early 1900′s at a time when there were multiple distinct schools of medical thought, including the eclectic, osteopathic, homeopathic and naturopathic schools. In 1910, the Carnegie Foundation published a critique of all existing medical schools called the Flexner Report. (1) The Federation of State Medical Boards was subsequently founded in 1912 and this organization took its marching orders from the AMA Council on Medical Education. (2) The net result was the virtual abolition of all schools that did not conform to conventional biomedical standards. Ever since the Flexner Report gave the upper hand to the “regular” school, as it was known at the time, the deck has been stacked against those who choose to look for answers beyond the politically sanctioned boundaries of conventional heath care.

There are a variety of forms of medical apartheid:
Certainly, one cannot overlook the medical apartheid that took the reprehensible form of medical experimentation on blacks throughout American history as documented by Harriet Washington in her book, “Medical Apartheid.” Another glimpse of this stain on the American medical soul was recently spotlighted when evidence was uncovered that U.S. sponsored medical experimentation took place in Guatemala where subjects in prisons and mental hospitals were intentionally infected with gonorrhea and syphilis. Please note that I am in no way comparing the forms of medical apartheid discussed in this article with these dark chapters in our medical history.

With that said, medical apartheid exists on a number of other levels, first and foremost at the level of the haves and have-nots. The number of Americans without health insurance currently stands at 50 million–a number that is beginning to approach 20 percent of the U.S. population. This disgraceful state of affairs is, in actuality, a function of a pyramid scheme wherein monetary resources are funneled away from doctors, patients and other health care professionals, toward the insurance industry, pharmaceutical companies, medical technology companies, administrators and CEO’s. Keith Olbermann’s television coverage of the forsaken throngs of regular Americans seeking health care from the traveling free clinics designed to serve the have-nots depicts a stunning and sad spectacle that should make one’s stomach turn.

On a more fundamental level, the same medical apartheid that became systematized in 1910 continues to exist between conventional and alternative forms of medical treatment. The unprecedented power and influence of the modern regular school and the American Medical Association makes it a near impossibility to introduce new and innovative ideas, other than the enormously expensive technological advances that characterize much of modern medicine. The net effect is to deprive patients of methods of healing that can be safer, more effective, less invasive and less expensive. Modalities such as acupuncture, homeopathy, chiropractic, herbal medicine, Ayurveda, energy medicine, Chinese medicine and spiritual healing, in addition to various forms of self help such as nutrition, yoga, meditation and tai chi, are just a few of the low-tech healing resources that the conventional medical system fails to consider for membership in its exclusive pharmaceutical-surgical club. The pervasive intolerance and discriminatory policies perpetuated by the medical establishment are clear and undeniable.

At an even deeper level, we are divided by a philosophical form of medical apartheid. While modern medicine continues to cling to its outdated mechanistic and materialistic conceptions of human health and illness, many holistic forms of healing strive to incorporate the reality that there is more to medicine than the simple mechanical repair of the physical body. The very foundation of this reality includes a much more expansive conception of the mental, emotional, spiritual, energetic, social and ecological dimensions of human health, all of which are inextricably interrelated and can have a profound impact upon each other–and upon the physical body.

On a practical level, there is also a methodological form of medical apartheid. Conventional medicine relies heavily upon a rational, quantitative approach that emphasizes lab values, diagnostic imaging, statistical analyses and other measurable data. Many holistic approaches, in contrast, place greater importance upon first-hand, empirical, experiential information. The rational approach tends to demand explanations before it will believe that something is possible. Holistic approaches tend to emphasize tried and true methods that work, regardless of whether they can be explained in terms of the biases of a conventional medical worldview.
The bias of conventional medicine prevents it from understanding how insensitive its practitioners can be, for example, when they dismiss the first-hand reports of patients as irrelevant “anecdotal” evidence. The very same “anecdotal” information may be invaluable to the practitioner of an alternative healing modality.

Other forms of medical apartheid include separate medical schools, separate medical journals, and separate medical societies. The interests of alternative practitioners are often calculatedly excluded from these entities. The irony here is that adherents of mainstream medicine frequently call for “proof” as to the value of a particular alternative therapy, only to turn around and reject the validity of relevant research when it is presented to them. This hypocritical double standard becomes abundantly clear when we hear frequent faux cries of concern about the safety of supplements and nutritionals while certain pharmaceuticals that are documented to have taken many lives remain on the medical market.

Medical apartheid even influences the way different categories of patients seek different forms of care. Most patients that patronize alternative practitioners tend to be relatively well-off individuals (they can afford therapies not covered by insurance), women (men tend to be more skeptical), and the well-educated (many people are simply uninformed about the existence of other medical options). On the other hand, we are aware of the tendency for the poor to seek routine acute care in very expensive emergency hospital settings. A more level playing field would allow all citizens access to the benefits of both conventional and unconventional therapies.

The time for meaningful change is long overdue:
In spite of overwhelming evidence as to the value of alternative modalities, practitioners and their patients remain second-class citizens for no rational reason other than that they do not conform to the materialistic bias of mainstream medicine, and the unconventional therapies that they choose are not seen as profitable enterprises that can be exploited by corporate interests. To be sure, there are extremists on both sides of the fence that work hard to maintain the separate and unequal status quo. However, there is absolutely no reason why the two worldviews cannot find a middle ground–a synergistic relationship that would benefit patients and that might relieve some of the pressure that conventional patients and practitioners feel to conform to medical authority, and some of the isolation that alternative patients and practitioners can experience when they choose the road less traveled.

It is time to bring down the walls of medical apartheid. The divide is unnecessary, unproductive and unbecoming of the medical profession. Medical apartheid serves neither patient nor practitioner. It keeps us all hostage to a form of state sanctioned corporate medicine that, like the financial industry, serves mostly its masters. Democracy, diversity and freedom of access and choice are the features that characterize the emerging green medical revolution, which will allow all parties to exist side by side with mutual respect and appreciation for the value that they bring to the integrated medical whole. We must aspire to a system that incorporates the best of all medical worlds for the betterment of all citizens.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Dr. Malerba.  I will be reading your book with great interest – I’ve not seen this stated better or more succinctly.  Your voice is truly valuable.