epilepsy

there are times I feel

 like there’s a monster

      in me squirming around

      living in my belly taking

over my life

  it’s evil – that’s what it

feels like

evil.

     it also feels like my soul

       can’t decide whether to

live or die

   that it’s trapped

   that it sits in some

   kind of purgatory

        (not that I believe in

        purgatory not that I

        am being punished)

 

         today I don’t want to write

       about how to lift my spirits

or yours

but how this monster

lives inside me

all day all night

epilepsy for me isn’t

   about having seizures

    or not having seizures

           it’s about something other

               than myself ruling my body

something I have no

*#>&%!! control over

    something that doesn’t

                                                               wish me well

that’s how it feels

stuck being life and death

 

but then here I am living

on the planet and I gotta

    pay bills and eat and bathe

              and feed the cats and do errands

                 and try to act like a normal person

but

                                                           I’m not normal

                                                           and it’s hard you know

                                                                it’s hard

Poems: These two poems are from the lovely and talented Helen Falandes.

Do the Next Two Things

After the last friends depart

empty glasses and cups

are collected and washed,

the floor swept and that first night alone

the best I can do

is the next two things.

Feed the cat.

Make tea.

Shower.

Dress.

Braid my hair.

Discard the obvious junk mail.

This is how to get through

when the light and dark

are completely different

slants and hues,

when every moment’s routine

holds the unexpected news

of your absence.

Feed the cat.

Empty the dish rack.

Fold the blanket.

Clear the answering machine.

Pick up the empty can

tossed out by the mailbox.

Bless the dust which

can be wiped away,

dirty laundry that can be washed clean,

the path that can be shoveled clear of snow.

Bless the hungry cat.

~ Helen Falandes – 2/07

 

Start Again Now

Start again now

As often as needed

Choking on the dust of falling walls

Gather stones and bricks

Start again now

Glue the broken edges

Match up at least

The larger pieces

Start again now

Dislodge what blocks

The narrow airway

Hear ragged breath

As new music

Start again now

Gather the wooly tangles

Take two sticks

Re-knit any pattern

That forms itself to cloth

                                        ~ Helen Falandes

 

 

 

Another Excerpt from My Never-finished Book – “Creating Your Own Reality”

I am a man and I am with a few other men. We are all wearing coarse, long, brown tunics. We are in a desert-like place and there is very little vegetation. We are running away from somebody or something and are all very frightened. We want to find a place to hide, but there is nowhere to do so. I feel a strong sense of doom. Other men come upon us; they seem to come out of nowhere. There are many more of them than us. I know we are done-for. The next thing I remember is sharp, stabbing sensations through my wrists, like someone has driven something through them. The fear takes over and becomes pure, raw terror, then I feel myself spinning, spinning, spinning. I realize at some point that I am dead, which frightens me even more, if possible. I keep spinning in fear for what seems like forever. I then slowly think of how I can stop feeling so frightened. I remember love. I try to conjure up the feeling of love, which is hard to do in my state of mind, so what I do manage to summon is off the mark; a kind of caricature of love.

            Then some time elapsed, because the next thing I remember is that I am in a new body; once again, a man. I am young, probably in my twenties. I am what could be called “The Village Idiot”: I have little intelligence, but am overly affectionate in inappropriate ways, like going up to strangers and hugging them.

I wake up. I have been in a deep sleep, which is highly unusual for me. I don’t think I’ve moved all night. I understand that what I just went through is not really a dream but two past life experiences. I have no doubt about that. In fact, I can’t even call it a memory, because what happened is I somehow entered those two time periods when I was in other bodies. I am also very clear that I have a seizure disorder, in part, because of the fear and terror I experienced from when I was killed and I understand that in this life, I have the opportunity to work through that fear. I also understand that the “Village Idiot” lifetime was a result of having conjured up a cartoonish feeling of love. All these realizations enter my mind at a rapid rate, and I am completely overwhelmed.

Years Later

There was always a part of the first life that bothered me: How exactly did I die? What was that sensation in my wrists? What was going on? I have since learned that during the time of Jesus and other times throughout history, crucifixion was a common form of punishment and that stakes were put through the wrists, as well as the palms and feet. When I heard of this, I felt this is what happened to me. I was also quite sure that what had actually killed me wasn’t anything physical, but that I had died from sheer terror.

It is through this direct experience I had years ago, that I learned how it is that we can create our own reality. What is a “seizure disorder” and my tendency towards worry and anxiety during stressful situations in this lifetime can on one level be seen as the embodiment of terror that spun me out of my body so long ago. I also understand that instead of thinking that I am being punished for “bad karma” from a past life, I see it as an opportunity to work through that fear and come into the full power of my being. That experience was so powerful for me. I can never dismiss it as just a dream, but a way for me to directly experience different concepts: creating one’s own reality, karma and past lives. I am very grateful for these understandings.

However, the concept of creating our own reality is a very sensitive and complex subject; one that’s certainly worth exploring, but with care and compassion.

Recently, I’ve become aware of a resurgence of this belief; the premise of which is wherever we are in life, we’ve attracted  our set of circumstances with our thoughts, whether conscious or unconscious. From this point of view, it therefore follows that we create any illness we have. If we want perfect health, they say “All we have to do” is to uncover our negative beliefs and replace them with positive ones, focusing on good health.

While I can see the truth to this, based on my own experience, I also believe the verdict is out on just how much we can create our own reality to our liking. While it’s true that there are people who have had miraculous recoveries from their illness, due to focusing on positive awareness, there are many who have not, and I don’t think it’s due to their not trying hard enough, as sometimes is implied. It’s also true that we only use a small portion of our brain, and who knows what would be possible if we used more or all of it? Investigating our belief systems and affirming a positive outcome for our health is always worthwhile, yet I think it’s important to be unattached to the outcome of our efforts and just when they might be manifested. I have seen psychological harm occur in myself and others when, after much effort, we still remain ill. We then start to question our abilities to heal ourselves, and fear, judgement and doubt sneak in: Just what dark secrets are still lurking in our psyche? Have I tried hard enough? Am I good enough? Am I being punished for a past life? IT is difficult enough to deal with our health challenges without producing new emotional ones on top of it.

When the idea that we create our own reality first started spreading in the alternative community, it was quick to catch on and in many ways, was very beneficial. It took the focus off of the idea that all illness resulted from external forces and a new examination began. How did beliefs and emotional mind states create disharmony in the body? The mind-body connection was explored and there was a lot to uncover. One of my problems with this concept is that it became over-simplified and took over all the other ideas instead of being one of many of the influences of the body’s breakdown.

And there are many others: The environment, an accident, genetics, diet, to name a few. One could argue that there have been recoveries of the body’s health whatever the initial cause, by using techniques of the mind, but there are many people who have used the same techniques without success. We all know people who have done all the “right” things: eating healthy, exercising, meditating and examining oneself psychologically and spiritually, and still struggle with their health; just as we know people who do all the “wrong” things: smoke cigarettes, drink excessively, or have a poor diet, that have no health problems and live into their nineties. The truth of the matter is we don’t always know why some people get better and some people don’t. We are complex and multifaceted beings and what works for one person may not work for another. To declare that “disease cannot live in a body that’s in a healthy emotional state” or “you can think your way to the perfect state of health” is just not always true, and certainly not because someone is more advanced spiritually than another, as seems to be implied.

Often, the way the concept of creating your own reality is presented is that we have total and absolute control of it; in fact of anything in the universe. To me, that conjures up the image of an all-powerful God, ready to intervene in any situation and create whatever (S)He wants. From what I observe, I don’t see that we or God have that kind of power. I think a better way to explain this is that we are cocreators of reality. That is, we cocreate with that which is larger than ourselves (God or Spirit), along with being affected by our DNA, other people, societal beliefs, our environment, etc. Therefore, we can influence our reality, we can direct our energy, we can become channels, but there’s a mysterious element involved in the alchemic process of manifestation that’s beyond our complete understanding

I’d also like to state the obvious here, and that is that being in a body is a limited experience. Even if we have exemplary health all our lives, at some point, we die and shed these bodies. I believe we are spiritual beings adapting to physical form and part of what we are learning here is how to live within the confines of that form. Therefore, it also follows that what is possible to create in this physical realm is also limited.

Now, let’s investigate for a moment, those implied beliefs that our health challenges could be due to bad karma from a past life and if we just focus enough positive energy on ourselves, we could heal our bodies. Buddhist teachings state that some illnesses are due to our past lives, and how we handle these conditions will not show up until the next life. Now, this viewpoint might not always be true either, but it gives us a different perspective for a moment, doesn’t it? We don’t all heal in the body in one lifetime. In fact, my own spiritual teacher has suggested to me that the reason we have many lifetimes is that it takes us that long to integrate the many lessons we need to learn.

Another Buddhist perspective is that instead of seeing illness as bad karma from a past life, think of it as karma ripening, and therefore, something one can be grateful for, so that now we can be ready to explore the teachings that come with it and grow spiritually. This viewpoint allows us to see illness as an opportunity and a sign of evolvement, not a punishment. In this sense, we are spiritual warriors, not victims or spiritually deficient in some way. We can now shed any shame that we’ve taken on due to statements like : “Love and gratitude can dissolve any disease”, after we have diligently practiced those very attitudes and still remain ill.

I have heard it said that to maintain perfect health, one must “think perfect thoughts” —- but what does that mean, anyway, and how does one go about doing that? From my many years of meditating, I have come to see that our minds are full of all kinds of thoughts from “I wonder what I’ll eat for lunch today” to “I hope Uncle Irving doesn’t get drunk again this Thanksgiving”. Would either of those qualify as an “imperfect” thought? And, to be mindful of our thoughts and how they affect us is one thing, but to try to control them as this way of thinking suggests to me, is another thing altogether. Have you ever tried not to think certain thoughts? They just persist with a vengeance. I prefer a gentler technique, which is to watch one’s thoughts and simply allow them to be, understanding that who we are is beyond thought. We all have all kinds of voices in our minds; ones that praise, ones that criticize, ones that doubt, ones that warn, etc. My experience tells me that we are better off understanding that that’s how the mind works, instead of trying to manipulate, which only backfires on us anyway. When we allow all our voices simply to be, we develop an expansive mind; one with humor and delight: “Oh, here comes that thought about my father again!” and cultivate a sort of benevolent tolerance to whatever arises, creating a healthier approach to not only our minds, but to life itself.

The one-pointed view that we each create our own reality, besides being over-simplified, often feels cold-hearted to me – an attitude that we’re here on our own; you create your reality, I create mine, and if one of us ends up in difficult circumstances, we’ve brought it upon ourselves, and it’s up to us and only us, to bring ourselves back to some imagined state of perfection. I feel this misses the mark: It doesn’t speak to our interconnectedness, the fact that we need each other, or rely on one another. It bypasses our humanness. It doesn’t speak to the deeper questions we could be asking ourselves. Yes, it’s good to question if we have had a part in creating our illness (or any difficult situation), but let’s add other questions to the mix, like: How can I use my illness to become a better human being? How can this experience deepen my capacity to love? How can I learn to love unconditionally? How are we all interconnected? How can I tap into my innermost self?

I’ll end with a quote from Marianne Williamson’s book A Return to Love.

“Our bodies are merely blank canvases onto which we project our thoughts. Disease is loveless thinking materialized. This doesn’t mean that people who have contacted a disease thought lovelessly, while the rest of us didn’t. Great saints have contacted terminal illnesses. The lovelessness that manufactures disease is systemic; it is laced throughout racial consciousness. Which soul manifests illness is based on many factors.                                                                                                                                       Let’s say an innocent child dies of environmentally-based cancer. How was lovelessness the problem here? The loveless thinking was not necessarily in the child, but in many of us who, over the years, lived without reverence for the environment, allowing it to be polluted by toxic chemicals. The child’s physical sickness resulted, indirectly, from the sickness in someone else’s mind. Our loving thoughts affect people and situations we never dream of, and so do our mistakes. Since our minds do not stop at our brain casings – since there is no place where one mind stops and another starts – then our love touches everyone, and so does our fear.”

A Journey into the Dark

Sometimes things come together: I sleep well enough to enjoy my day, and, after checking my daily to-do list, see that there is nothing that really needs to get done. It suddenly occurs to me that I could visit my friends Jesse and Shay, who live a little more than an hour north from me, and have my caregiver Jenna drive me.

When she arrives, I tell her my idea and find out she’s up for it. Let’s get out of town!

The day is perfect for an outing. It’s nearly the end of August and there’s a bit of coolness in the air, the heaviness of summer lifting for a bit.

We leave town and immediately get on the highway. We pass steep hills full of leaning redwoods and pines and I feel my senses awaken. Traveling – even a short trip out of town, always opens up my world, reminding me there’s more to life than the inside of my mind and the confines of my home.

Image T Redwoods

Jenna and I converse on the way there. She’s only been working for me for a short time and this gives me a chance to get to know her better. She tells me a little about her unhappy childhood – growing up as an only child in a small town outside of Madison, Wisconsin and how she tended to her lonely spirit by climbing trees and watching all kinds of critters. I learn that she has moved around a lot since an adult, until she arrived in Mendocino County ten years ago and realized she had finally found her home.

I tell Jenna I need a break from conversing, knowing that when we arrive at Jesse and Shay’s, there’ll be plenty of it. I don’t want my brain to go on over-load before we get there and spoil the visit.

I turn and look out the window. We are passing through the tiny town of Laytonville, which holds not a whole lot more than a gas station, a general store and a few small restaurants. Old hippies live here side-by-side with rednecks pretty much amiably, it seems to me.

The road flattens out as does the scenery – there are less trees here, revealing gentle hills that are golden brown from parched grasses.

Finally, we reach Bells Springs Road and I direct Jenna to turn right onto it. The car immediately climbs, pavement turning to dirt and gravel. The washboard road jostles our bodies as we drive up and up, rounding one curve after another, a cloud of dust following. Occasionally, there is a break between madrone and manzanita on the right, revealing spectacular views of ridges spreading out for miles, with no houses in sight.

Eventually, just as I am becoming impatient, the road straightens out and we arrive at their driveway, which is steep but short, guarded by a large gargoyle leering at us at the base. We park at the top at level ground and get out.

Image gargoyle Strasb Cath

I am always struck by the quiet here. I pause and take a moment, breathing in the stillness, which is settling after such a long and bumpy ride.

We stretch our legs and look around before nearing the house. Two large goddess statues line the pathway, almost as tall as full-grown women. Flat rocks nearby them have been carefully stacked creating a natural tower.

balance blur boulder close up
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The house is unusual – what I would call a Northern California home, probably built back in the 70’s. It is weathered and rambling with two stories and sits amongst trees. Two decks are connected by a narrow walkway, which leads to the front door. As we walk in that direction, we pass potted plants and a large stack of wood, forcing us to walk single-file.

I hear voices call out and see Jesse and Shay out on the front deck. When Jenna and I reach them, I introduce everybody, then hug my friends hard – it’s been too long since we’ve gotten together.

A big oak tree bends over the deck, one of its huge branches almost touching it. Beside us is a carefully and lovingly constructed ornamental terraced garden. There are small, meandering pathways and a tiny pond with a run-off that’s gently burbling. It’s truly a thing of beauty.

Gardening has always been one of Jesse’s passions Faerie GardenIMG_3808 and has kept her busy over the years, but now that she’s in a wheelchair, she can no longer tend to this incredible creation of hers and has taken to making what she calls “faerie gardens”, that line the deck.  These miniature gardens that she has worked on meticulously are made up of tiny plants made to look like trees, with elfin bridges, houses, and even people, and not one of them is the same.

Faerie GardenIMG_3751 They reveal the patience Jesse has, Faerie GardenIMG_3811 which is one of her most admirable traits, along with her great intelligence.

We take our seats and immediately launch into deep conversation. I have known these women for a very long time, so there is no need for small talk and pleasantries. Although I haven’t seen them for months, in many ways it feels like yesterday.

Inevitably, the conversation turns to health. Last year, Jesse was diagnosed with cancer. Surgery became necessary and she has recently finished rounds of chemo. Her hair has just started coming back and when I rub my hand across her head, I’m surprised with how soft it is. She talks about frequent doctor visits, anticipating test results, and the hardship of having to go to Ukiah for appointments, almost 2 hours away. As she talks, I check out her appearance more closely and realize she’s lost a lot of weight, which concerns me. Nevertheless, she seems cheerful and talkative, and my concern, at least for her emotional well-being, begins to wane.

Locally: Cancer Resource Center of Mendocino County https://crcmendocino.org/

It’s Shay, really, that worries me more. She has suffered from depression since she was a teenager. Her voice is often flat, and she sleeps a lot and has little vital energy. Jesse’s cancer has certainly added to her mental state, and so our talk turns to her struggles.

For information and to learn the symptoms of depression: https://www.apa.org/topics/depression/

She has been on antidepressants for some time. At first, she had a hard time adjusting to one medication, but then they gave her some relief. But not long after, the effects abated then stopped working altogether. The doctors wanted to increase her dosage, which she did, and that helped briefly, but then again, stopped working. Discouraged, she cut back, but found it difficult on her body and even though she’d like to go off altogether, it became too hard to do, so she has given up and stayed on them, even though she no longer feels any relief.

She has also gone to therapy, read countless books on depression, quit sugar altogether and changed her diet. But all this has had no effect on her body/mind.

“The only thing that really helps”, she says, “That really gets me out of my head is being creative.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “I can get in this zone and it takes me away from everything and into this other world.”

Shay is an incredible artist, with many interests. Her main focuses have been jewelry, painting and drawing. Her studio is a work of art itself: Sketches are set up here and there. Cups and cases hold pens, colored pencils and brushes in various shapes and sizes. Tiny drawers hold all sorts of beads, necklaces, chains and clasps. Easels lean against walls. There are leather-bound journals with her creations in them, reams of paper for watercolors, as well as others’ artwork – from small sculptures to paintings to help inspire her.

After Shay speaks, Jesse adds, her voice becoming soft, “What’s hard for me is seeing how her depression affects her self-esteem. She’s so damn hard on herself!” Tears spring to her eyes.

I know this to be true. Shay constantly puts herself down, downplays her artistic abilities, compares herself to others in many areas of her life, and often, in her mind, coming up short. It’s painful for me to see this in her. I love my friend dearly and know her not only to be talented, but extremely kind, sensitive and thoughtful. I only wish she could turn those qualities towards herself.

Jenna chimes in, “Well, I’m not clinically depressed, but I have my days and my cycles with it. When the days turn into weeks, I start to microdose myself with magic mushrooms. It works for me. It interrupts the cycle.”

We’re all interested in what she has to say, and barrage her with questions. What kind of mushrooms? How much do you take? Do you get high? Can you take it with antidepressants and other medications?

Jenna answers carefully. “I can only speak from my own experience. I take a teeny weeny bit of psilocybin and I don’t get high. But, I feel…” She thinks a bit, “I feel better, is all I can say. Different. Something shifts inside, and my brain resets itself.” She shrugs, as if to say, “That’s the best I can do to explain myself”. “And I want to be clear here: I don’t know if it will work for you. I don’t know if you can take it with your meds. I don’t have all the answers.” She shakes her head with a sad expression on her face. “And unfortunately, I’ve run out of mushrooms myself and don’t know where to get any.”

We’re all quiet, taking in all this information.

“I do think,”, Jenna adds, “That if you ever try it – don’t do it alone. Have someone there with you. I’d be willing to do that with you, if you’d like.”

“But you don’t have any,”, Jesse says, making sure. “No. But I’m looking. I could let you know if I find anything.”

Shay sighs, sounding weary, but says “Well I like the idea of taking something natural…” She drifts off, “I’m not sure if I’m up for something new.”

I understand this reaction. I’ve tried so many other things over the years and got my hopes up: Maybe this will work. Often, I don’t get the results I want, or it makes me feel worse and/or gives me intolerable side effects. Even something as simple and benign like vitamin B-12 to help feed my nervous system, took me a long time to try out. I just did not want to be disappointed yet again.

There’s a lull in the conversation and suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, their scraggly black, Noche (with a tiny spot of white on the tip of his tail), shows up demanding attention, putting smiles on our faces. More shadows have moved in on the porch, taking over most of the sun spots. As much as I don’t want to leave, it’s best that we get on the road before it becomes too dark.

We reluctantly say our goodbyes and as we pull out of their driveway, I look back and see Shay holding Noche and waving at us.

We’re quiet as we head home as I process the visit. Seeing these beloved friends always warms my heart, but breaks it, too, if that’s possible. I realize I want to “fix” Shay, as others seem to want to “fix” me, but I know it’s not possible and that hurts. Maybe, if Shay wants to try them, those mushrooms will help, I think, as we whiz by trees and hills. And maybe they won’t.

Microdosing – disclaimer:  I am not endorsing the use of illegal or potentially dangerous drugs/medications. The subject of microdosing is only to inform my readers.

Psychedelic Times: “How to Find Psychedelic Treatment for your Psychological Disorder” Posted by Wesley Thoricatha April 28, 2017  Articles, Psychedelic Integration, Psychedelic Therapy 3 https://psychedelictimes.com/find-psychedelic-treatment-psychological-disorder/

“It’s also important to know that not all psychological disorders lend themselves well to psychedelic treatment. While there is no scientific basis for the propaganda that psychedelics can “make you crazy,” it has been suggested that those with latent schizophrenia could have their condition triggered early by a strong psychedelic experience. Keep in mind this is still a new frontier of research, and people with certain medical conditions or on certain medications should absolutely not take certain psychedelics. Any properly run treatment clinic will have a full physical and mental health screening before treatment, and walk you through any  contraindications that may be revealed. We do not endorse any illegal behavior, but from a harm reduction perspective, anyone who chooses underground treatment should exercise extreme levels of research, discernment, and safety precautions throughout the process.”

“Finding Integration Support – Beyond the psychedelic journey itself, integration of the experience after the fact plays a critical role in ensuring that the insights, progress, inspiration gained are translated into daily life in a sustainable way. Whether you are fresh out of an underground ayahuasca ceremony that helped you deal with childhood trauma, or a recent outpatient of an iboga center that helped you detox from an opiate addiction; a few weeks or months of integration support from someone who understands psychedelic treatment is immensely beneficial in securing your new goals, perspectives and commitments.” …

“Releasing the Stigma – One of the most insidious aspects of mental illnesses is the stigma that surrounds them. Despite the statistics that show how common these disorders are, our culture still often adopts a “toughen up and go it alone” approach, leading many to isolate themselves and be fearful of speaking up about their condition, much less seek help. Psychotherapy, prescription medications, and conventional rehab centers do help many people stabilize their lives, but sometimes these routes are not enough to fully eradicate the pain, trauma, and stress that lay at the core of the disorder, leading people to simply numb their symptoms without seeking true healing.” “Radical shifts in behavior, self-image, and wellbeing are something that psychedelics excel at when used appropriately, but not everyone is able to travel abroad for psychedelic treatment or willing to find underground options. The single most important thing that anyone suffering from an addiction or mental disorder can do is to speak up about it to their loved ones and seek help. Shame and stigma surrounding these issues should be forever discarded, as these conditions are an  integral part of the human condition, and everyone faces stress, challenges, and addictive habits in their own way.”

Glamour Magazine website: “Microdosing, Depression, and the Trippy Future of Mental Health Treatments, Psychedelics are a fringe frontier of mental health treatments. But are they safe?” By Deanna deBara, September 5, 2019 https://www.glamour.com/story/microdosing-for-depression-does-it-work

… “Carina*, a 59-year-old therapist in Oregon, sees the ripple effects of the anxiety and stress of our current cultural climate every day in her work—and in her personal life. She has struggled with depression for much of her career, managing it with regular therapy sessions and movement practices like yoga and dance, but when she found herself struggling with a particularly challenging depressive episode in the wake of the #MeToo movement, she began exploring alternative treatment modalities.”

“That’s when she was introduced to microdosing for depression. “So much of depression is feeling stuck,” says Carina. “Microdosing has helped me get out of preservation mode; it helped me get out of the stuck places and see that there are options.”

“Shrooms (aka psychedelic mushrooms) and LSD have a rich résumé of providing a hallucinatory high, and we’re in the midst of a psychedelic resurgence. The recent interest in psychedelics isn’t a throwback to the ’60s so much as it is the potential future of mental health treatment—especially for depression and anxiety.”

“The goal of microdosing is not to get you high. As the name implies, the practice involves taking a small amount—a microdose—of psilocybin (in the form of mushrooms) or LSD every few days. Unlike higher doses of psychedelics, which typically produce the “trip” experience these substances are most known for, the effect of microdosing is much more subtle. Most people start with “around 10ug of LSD (around a tenth of a tab) or 0.1g of dried psilocybin mushrooms,” according to The Third Wave, a psychedelic education resource. (The “right” dose varies from person to person. You should never take any substance without consulting your doctor first.)”

“Psychedelics aren’t legal—they’re currently classified as Schedule I drugs by the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration, meaning there’s “no currently accepted medical use and a high potential for abuse.” (For the record, cannabis is also classified as a Schedule I drug by the DEA.) That poses some considerable risks. Because psychedelics aren’t legal, they aren’t regulated. There’s no way of knowing what you’re getting, where it’s coming from, or how strong it is, which can put your safety in jeopardy.”

Medical News Today “Psychedelics: Risks and benefits of microdosing revealed: New research, published in the journal ACS Chemical Neuroscience, finds both potential benefits and risks of using psychedelic microdosing to treat mental health problems. The study reveals effects on cognitive skills and sociability, as well as metabolic and neuronal consequences.” By Ana Sandoiu on March 4, 2019 https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/324609.php#1

“An emerging body of research is making a case for using psychedelic drugs to treat mental health issues.”

“For instance, two studies published last year showed that psilocybin, the active psychedelic compound in magic mushrooms, alleviated symptoms of treatment-resistant depression.”

“Moreover, the psilocybin did so without causing any side effects of conventional antidepressants. Such side effects typically include emotional blunting or apathy.”

“People who use psychedelics to improve their mental health and boost their overall well-being tend to do so with a technique called microdosing. Taking microdoses of a psychedelic drug means taking only a fraction of a dose that is required to have a full-blown psychedelic experience, or “trip.”…

“The lead researcher is David Olson, Ph.D., an assistant professor in the departments of Chemistry and Biochemistry and Molecular Medicine at the University of California, Davis.”

… “conflicting results may suggest that an acute dose of psychedelic substances affects the brain differently from intermittent microdoses.”

“Side effects notwithstanding, say the authors, the current results are promising because they suggest that researchers can separate the psychedelic effects from the therapeutic ones.”

“Our study demonstrates that psychedelics can produce beneficial behavioral effects without drastically altering perception, which is a critical step towards producing viable medicines inspired by these compounds,” says Olson.”

“This is the first time anyone has demonstrated in animals that psychedelic microdosing might actually have some beneficial effects, particularly for depression or anxiety. It’s exciting, but the potentially adverse changes in neuronal structure and metabolism that we observe emphasize the need for additional studies.” David Olson, Ph.D.”

Refinery29 – “Can Microdosing Psychedelic Mushrooms Curb Your Anxiety?” By Cory Stieg, August 7, 2019 https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/2019/08/238497/microdosing-psilocybin-mushrooms-benefits-depression-anxiety

“Microdosing, or taking tiny amounts of a drug daily, does more than just get people mildly high. Specifically, psychedelics such as LSD (which is very similar to psilocybin, pharmacologically speaking) act on the neurotransmitter system, serotonin, which is widely used in traditional antidepressant drugs, says Harriet De Wit, PhD, founder and primary investigator in the Human Behavioral Pharmacology Laboratory at the University of Chicago. “So, there is some neurochemical rationale for the possibility that it improves mood,” she says. Compared to traditional antidepressants, which can take weeks to take effect, microdoses of LSD have been shown to have marginal subjective effects after just one administration”, she adds.”

“All of this points to the greater need for research into promising drugs like psilocybin. Most experts agree that psychedelic drugs have a lot of potential — either taken in microdoses or in combination with psychotherapy with psychological guidance. “This is an exciting new chapter in psychiatric research,” Dr. De Wit says.”

 

Gargoyle Image from https://pixabay.com/photos/gargoyle-cathedral-strasbourg-1663459/

Click the link below for cancer centers in your area. National Cancer Institute: NCI-  Designated Cancer Centers https://www.cancer.gov/research/nci-role/cancer-centers

 

Faerie GardenIMG_4051

 

 

 

 

 

 

“YOUR LAUGHTER” by Pablo Neruda

“Take bread away from me, if you wish,

take air away, but

do not take from me your laughter

 

Do not take away the rose,

the lanceflower that you pluck,

the water that suddenly

bursts forth in your joy,

the sudden wave

of silver born in you.

 

My struggle is harsh and I come back

with eyes tired

at times from having seen

the unchanging earth,

but when your laughter enters

it rises to the sky seeking me

and it opens for me all

the doors of life.

 

My love, in the darkest

hour your laughter

opens, and if suddenly

you see my blood staining

the stones of the street,

laugh, because your laughter

will be for my hands

like a fresh sword.

 

Next to the sea in the autumn,

your laughter must raise

its foamy cascade,

and in the spring, love,

I want your laughter like

the flower I was waiting for,

the blue flower, the rose

of my echoing country.

 

Laugh at the night,

at the day, at the moon,

laugh at the twisted

streets of the island,

laugh at this clumsy

boy who loves you,

but when I open

my eyes and close them,

when my steps go,

when my steps return,

deny me bread, air,

light, spring,

but never your laughter

for I would die.”

 

TRANSLATED BY DONALD WALSH

A Family Inheritance

Anxiety runs in my family.  I inherited mine from my father.

My mother often told the story of when my father first began his teaching career.  Every morning before work he would vomit from nerves.  Eventually he got this down to every Monday, and then when he became more confident at his job, he stopped.  Every time my brother and I were told this story, we would laugh, including my mother.  We didn’t understand.

He couldn’t stand being late.  When we would travel, he’d pack days ahead of time.  When going to the airport, we would have to arrive hours ahead of schedule, or he would get upset, often yelling at us.  His fear of being late carried over to other events when promptness was not called for – for example when going for an outing, he’d announce to the family what time we would “need” to leave, only to blow up when we weren’t ready a half an hour before the scheduled time.

His anxiety took the form of hypochondria.  If he got a headache or a slight fever, he’d worry about it as if he had some strange or daunting illness, asking my mother repeatedly to feel his forehead or listen to his heartbeat.  She’d roll her eyes and say, “You just have the flu for God’s sake!  You’re not dying!”  But by the look on his face, I could see he was frightened.

At restaurants, much to my family’s chagrin, he’d become agitated, running his hands through his hair repeatedly, waiting for dinner to arrive, long before it could possibly be ready.  He would flag down a server and ask them when our meals would be ready, his voice sounding a little desperate, while the rest of us hid behind our menus.

As he got older, his anxiety increased, along with his controlling behavior.  Once while I was visiting with my partner, his car was in the shop and was supposed to be ready early afternoon, but he got a call informing him that they ran into a snag and the car wouldn’t be ready until much later.  He exploded and berated the receptionist on the other end who was only relaying the news.  There was really no rational reason for him to be upset, he didn’t need to go anywhere that day, and, if that need changed, my partner and I had a car.

My parents lived about 2 hours from me.  When returning home after visiting them, he would often call my landline long before I would arrive to see if I made it back ok, and when he found out I wasn’t there, he’d become anxious.  I think it was my last visit there before he died, that he called my house three times before I made it home.  It didn’t matter how much my partner tried to reassure him that I was probably just fine, he didn’t calm down until he heard my voice.

It took me a long time to recognize that these behaviors were coming from a place of anxiety, especially when he acted controlling, impatient and angry.  It wasn’t until I began to analyze and compare my own feelings and behavior with his and recognize that they too stemmed from anxiety that I began to understand more fully his experience.  Although I try not to manipulate and control those around me like my father did, there are situations where I have to have things a certain way or I become very anxious.  There is a felt sense of great urgency when anxiety takes over, especially in triggering or stressful situations, and for me that happens most at bedtime.  I have to be in my bedroom at 9 and if my partner begins a conversation at 8:50, I get impatient and irritated with her because of this urgency.  I need to check and re-check to see if the front door is locked, the stove is turned off, and the cats have enough food and water before I turn in, or my stomach goes into knots.

I want to say here; I loved my father very much.  He was much more than his anxiety disorder and I hope the following poem I wrote 3 months before his death demonstrates that.

Envy

A Climb at Hongshou

I am seriously envious. My sister just came back from China. She went to a huge Chinese wedding. She climbed a mountain that looks just like the pictures you see; swirling fog at the base of the mountain, steep inclines, wild orchids growing on the side of the cliff. She hiked the Great Wall. She ate exotic foods and met all kinds of people. My sister is 52 but has the energy of a 20-year-old. She lives in Massachusetts and in five days will fly out here to California for 5 days!

I’m bright green with envy. Glowing. You can see me from miles away. I want to travel too. And often. And go just about anywhere. She sounded upbeat and as full of enthusiasm as a puppy. I told her “I wish I had about 1/3 of your energy!”.

I grew up in a family where travel was our middle name. We lived in California 9 months out of the year and 3 months on the east coast. Before I had problems with seizures and severe sleep deprivation, we went to Europe: Denmark, France, Italy, Greece. I went to Jamaica with my parents and Trinidad and Tobago. Guatemala and Honduras. Traveling is in my blood. And now? Now I don’t drive outside of my hometown. If I go anywhere else, I have to have a caregiver take me, and then usually for a doctor’s appointment a half-hour away. I did manage a trip back east last year with two caregivers, but it was brutal getting there: I felt like I had to slay a few dragons to get there.

In my fantasies, I’d like to live back east part of the year. I’d like to travel to Asia – Bhutan maybe? Thailand, Nepal? I’d like to go to Africa, too, but I’m not sure which country. Europe: pick a country, any country. I’d like to go to Alaska and see the Denali National Park. I’d like to go to Nova Scotia – just ‘cause. Costa Rica for sure. Australia and The Great Barrier Reef. Tahiti. The Caribbean. I want to see the Taj Mahal. Machu Pichu. Findhorn. Stonehenge. Victoria Falls. I’d like to hike, swim, zipline, snorkel, scuba, snowboard, hang glide, surf and kite surf.

So… I’m just a tad envious.

Which brings me to the topic of complaining. As someone with chronic illness, I feel like I’m not supposed to complain too much. There are always others worse off than me. So, I should be grateful for what I can do. As a society we love the “super crip”- the differently abled people who not only never complain but are able to do extraordinary things. Someone without legs managing to run a marathon with prosthetics. Someone who is blind who climbed a mountain. Someone who has Crohn’s disease becomes a medical doctor. These are all commendable achievements to be sure, but what about the rest of us who don’t accomplish such feats?

Personally, I think for most of us, it’s a feat just to make it through the day. For someone who suffers from depression to get out of bed. Another to walk from the bedroom to the living room. To get through one more day of pain without thoughts of suicide. To be able to balance a check book, make a meal, sweep the floor. Hold down a job.

In the middle of writing this, I took a break and walked outside. It’s been raining lately, and everything is so green. There’s the dark green of the pine trees that line the driveway, the ends of which are lighter from new growth. Cattails below the house shimmer a soft green that sometimes darkens when clouds pass by. The tall grass in the meadow is a shiny lime green. Green is a beautiful color with so many shades.

So, are there various shades of human emotion: fear, irritation, rage, excitement, sadness, and yes, envy? It’s human to have and feel emotions. To get stuck in them and have them eat a hole in your stomach or heart is something we want to avoid.

When I came back from my short walk, I felt something inside shift. I sat down and listened to the rain that started falling – a beautiful sound. I glanced at my cats who were sleeping peacefully. And I sat with my envy, green and glowing. It’s a beautiful thing too! A human thing.

And so, when my sister comes to visit, I will hug her hard, and squeeze her hands, and ask her more details about her adventures and look at her pictures on her iPhone. And I will be happy for her. And I will be grateful I have a sister who I love and loves me back.

And I will probably bring with me a touch of green envy. Emerald? Perhaps ivy? I’ll decide then.