Day: June 25, 2012

I began to awaken on Kinney Road that bitter dark winter, Izzy and me chasing sunsets, running from life, running to life. This morning a friend said to me, “are you following what’s happening in Egypt? It’s disturbing, not good for the world,” and then a few minutes later, another called me and said “did you hear what the Supreme Court did? Isn’t it terrible, aren’t you disturbed?” And then running someone on the street, she told me “I know you don’t vote. You must vote. Everyone must vote.” A young dental technician told me this week that she was not sure of bringing a child into the world, it is so bleak and grim. And there is this friend who has listened to doctors his whole life, done everything they told him to do and is now poisoned and ill by medications that had no side effects but did.

And I thought my friends don’t know me, don’t get me. I fear they are asleep. Why are they telling me these things? Why are they embracing this idea of what news is, what the world is. What their lives are, shrinking into a fearful, left-right world.  Don’t they know that this is the same story every day, packaged in a different way from a different place with the same message: the world is an awful and dangerous place and you better pay attention to us or you will be caught unawares? Another script, like struggle stories, we are taught we must follow.

They need us to be alarmed and distressed so will fall asleep and accept this idea of what the world is and will be. Of what we need to be happy and secure. Of how much money we need in our IRA’s.  Or how we must shrivel up and disappear in anticipation of dying.  They know fear is addictive and we will follow it and pay for it and make them rich while we tremble and hide from our own lives and possibilities.

Some people chose to awaken, some people do not, and it is not my business to tell other people what to do. It is good business for them if we lead small and mindless lives, looking for our daily fix of gloom and despair.

I am giving out the wrong signals if people are telling me these things, and think they are important to me or will draw me into their dark spaces. Or that I will dance this dance with them, the how-awful-is-the-world-line-dance-that snakes over the horizon. The world has always been a roiling brew of good and bad, beautiful and ugly, safe and dangerous. There is nothing that is new. Only the way in which it is thrust upon us for profit of the hollow men.

Perhaps they are drawn to something inside of me that I have yet to purge. So this is not my news, I have begun to tell them. This is not my life. This is not what is important to me. I will not support or vote for a system that does not reflect my beliefs.  I will not be a small person with a spirit so timid and a mind so soft that I will accept this grisly and hopeless idea of what the world is, of what is important to me, of what I will pay attention to each day. I am grateful for my awakening, every day. The world is a beautiful place, and life is bright and full of promise.

I find I don’t have to go looking for the rural landscape. It always seems to find me, even on a walk in the deep woods early in the morning.

My friend the artist Donna Wynbrandt sketching my doctor, Glen Finley.

Several years ago, I realized that I would never really be healthy if I stayed within the conventional health care system that has become such a nightmarish social, ethical and political struggle. My doctors spent almost know time with me, answered few if any questions, and were constantly pushing me towards expensive and ritualistic tests and prescriptions medications they thought I might consider taking for life – pills for sleep, blood sugar, blood pressure, cholesterol. In many ways I had been as unhealthy as I was unhappy, and it never occurred to me or them that the two were related.

I had gained weight, exercised little and had all kinds of back and leg pain. When I broke down and began my mental and spiritual healing, I also began to redefine my idea of health. I stopped going to conventional doctors, stopped taking tests, stopped taking pills. I understand then and now that the medical system offers many necessary things but I also realized that health for me did not come from the anxious and perpetual examination of my body. I began to examine alternative medications – vitamins, glucose support, herbs for sleeping and for making my organs healthier.

I studied nutrition, began cooking and shopping for me, then for me and Maria. I read labels, learned about vegetables, processed food, carbohydrates and protein.  I began a series of spiritual practices – medications, herbal teas, and most importantly, finding some love and peace. Photography became an important outlet for my energy and creativity. And I found a true healer in Glen Finley who listens to me, knows me, and has helped me understand what real health is for me.

When I visit Glen, I still have to steel myself as he talks to me, checks me out. Is he looking for health? Am I in trouble? But I always leave feeling healthier and sound. And proud of the work I have done.

I loved this image of my friend Donna sketching Glen as we all met today.

It is rare for men to make and keep friends, a small miracle when it occurs. I’ve not always been good at it. My friend George Forss has many good friends and I am not as good at it as he is.   George and I have a special relationship born out of love for photography initially but has grown beyond that. We talk often on the phone, e-mail one another, and share photos we are proud of or have learned something from. George keeps me up to date on work with light, his experiments with optics and reflections, his search for aliens.

We took an important trip together this morning with Donna to meet my doctor, Glen Finley, a naturopath at the New Leaf Holistic Practice in Kingston, N.Y. Dr. Finley comes to Manchester, Vt. once a month and I see him there. He is diligent, gentle, thorough and has helped me make the turn from conventional health care to a different kind of medicine. I cannot begin to relate how much I admire and respect him. We often spend more than an hour together. He is also an avid photographer and I can sometimes distract him a bit talking about photography, but never for very long. He has made me love my  body and medicine again. I look forward to my doctor’s visits. Thanks in part to him, I am on no prescription medicines of any kind and feel strong and healthy. I asked if he would meet George and advised him not to ask many questions about aliens.

My friend George had some health issues recently and he said he would like to meet Glen to help him figure out all the medications he is supposed to be taking, so I brought Donna. It was a classic meeting in many ways, George is not used to talking about his health, or the polio that afflicted him in his childhood. Donna is also a friend, and is a brilliant artist and a brave schizophrenic who has controlled her illness for some years through medications, spiritual work and just plain hard work. She spent some years of her life as a street person in New York City and Atlanta and is an advocate for the mentally ill. George and Donna love one another very much and their relationship is a sweet and touching thing to see. She came along with her sketchpad. I brought my camera.  Glen seemed to take all of the attention in stride, not skipping a beat in his discussion of medicines, gall bladders, livers and health.

Glen brought two of his cameras. I took photos, Donna drew, and George and Glen traded optic and lens chatter for awhile. George loved Glen’s cameras. “I love all cameras,” e said. I learn so much just from listening to George. I was taking photos of Glen and George pointed to his hands and his charts. “The hands,” he said, “that’s the image of a doctor.” Then George and Donna and I went to lunch.

I wanted George to meet Glen so that George, who is going through a confusing time, would have someone to talk to who wouldn’t simply write prescriptions for him, although he may need some. Glen is a specialist in nutrition and had great ideas about heart health and diet. The three of us agreed to meet soon at Bedlam Farm to take photos together.

Glen took my blood pressure and it was a little high. He asked me about my life. He remembered I was moving, that I had four books coming out this year, that I had a new dog and spent the weekend with more than 1,000 people at Bedlam Farm. I told him I had spent the week running up and down hills with Red. When he took the reading, my heart jumped a bit. I feared he would send me into the system for some blood pressure medication. I won’t do that, I said. Not to worry, he said. It had happened before. One of my numbers was fine, and he felt I was under stress and needed to deal with this issue in that context. We talk about ways to rest during this period.

I saw George taking in all of this, and I felt so fortunate to be sitting in this room having this talk with my doctor about my friend, my life, my health. George will make up his own mind about his health care, but this is the path for me, for sure.

Afterwards, George and Donna and I went to lunch. George said the morning was great for him in many ways. He liked Glen a lot, was thinking about his future health, and also had learned that I disliked politics and parties. “I wouldn’t have thought that,” he said. “This was productive.”

Photo album on Facebook (including the hands)

I know dogs love routine, and so I try to provide it for them. I usually get up early – 5 or 6 a.m. – and either Maria or I let the dogs out into the backyard, which is fenced. I take Red out for about an hour of herding and working together.

I bring him back and then leave him outside for an hour or two with the other dogs and then feed them. These transitions – like coming into the house to eat – are magical opportunities for training. There is no tension between Red and any of the other dogs. I don’t accept any kind of aggression among my dogs, and there has never been any. Red is no longer uneasy about where he fits in or where he should go.

In the yard, he sits next to Lenore, sometimes with Frieda. Then he stares at the back door waiting for me to show up, border collie style. Since the dogs are eager to eat, I opened the gate, give the “stay” command and then I walk back down the stairs and wait by the back door. Red had trouble with this for three or four days. When I turned my back, he broke out of the “stay” and tried to run up to me. Every time he does this, I just call him back up the spot where the original command was given and quietly tell him to “stay” again. This often took three of four commands, two or three minutes. He does it on the second command now and soon will just do it. This morning, he seemed to get it. He sat up alongside the other dogs and waited for the “come” command. Their body language speaks to how easy they are together.

Red is smart and wants to please, so it just requires patience and clarity on my part. I have never been more patient with a dog. It pays off every day. This kind of calming training is great for dogs. In order to eat, they must stay, then sit for up to three minutes. By training Red, I also sharpen up the skills of the other dogs and reinforce the behaviors I want.  The reward is breakfast and it a pleasant way to train. During the three minutes I talk to them, sometimes sing to them, give them speeches and tell them about the day. Then we all come into the house and eat.

Daily transitions are important training opportunities for dogs. They should not rush into a door ahead of me, or out ahead of me. Dogs can stay when they sit or lie down in a fixed position for up to three minutes. If they screw up, which they will do being animals, I simply pretend they didn’t and start again. I am happy training a dog again, happy working with one.