According to James Altucher, author and entrepreneur, it is possible to reinvent yourself in 5 years. In his book, The Power of No, he tells us how to reinvent our lives by first saying a big, fat No to all the things that don’t serve us—toxic friendships and relationships, stagnant 9-5’s, harmful behaviours, negative thought patterns and, well, just things we simply don’t want to do—in order to free up our lives for greater happiness, abundance and creativity.
It is now the end of May. For me, May has been a month of reinvention. For the past 10 years it has been the month of closing and good-byes, specifically the end of the school year. The Canadian College of Naturopathic Medicine class of 2015 has graduated, as I did last year. Last week my Facebook feed was infiltrated with pictures of flowers, long black gowns and tearfully heartfelt thank-yous to the friends and family that got my colleagues through their gruelling 4 years of naturopathic medical education. Last year that was me—I remember the black gowns, the face-ache from smiling, drinking a little too much at grad formal and winning an award (“Most Likely to Write a Best Seller”—complete with misspelling of “bestseller”) while eating Portuguese chicken at my house afterwards with my friend F and his family. This year, one year later, I watch these events from afar. May 2014 offered new beginnings and chance for reinvention. I was dating, enjoying the sunshine, looking forward to a trip to India, looking forward to beginning a practice as a naturopathic doctor. Mostly, last May was about the death of one life—that of a naturopathic student—and the birth of a new one: a complete reinvention.
This year the rest of my life stretches before me like one long expansive road. My career is underway. My dating life is stagnant. The next steps are more like small evolutions rather than massive, monumental milestones. I most likely will not don a black gown again, but I can reinvent myself by following the 20 steps below. I can always check back into these practices when I’m feeling stuck, alone or afraid. When life is not going my way, there is always a chance to begin a reinvention of some sort. And, I remind myself, my current reinvention is likely well underway. Since I graduated last May, I have been in the process of reinventing: just 4 more years left until I complete my obligatory 5. While 4 years sounds like a long time, I know from experience that 4-year cycles turn over within the blink of an eye.
What stage are you on in your own personal reinvention? Wherever you are, follow these steps to reinvent yourself:
1) Say no. Say no to all the things that you don’t want to do. Say no to things that cause you harm: emotional harm, mental harm, physical harm, loss of time, loss of money, loss of sleep. We need to say no first before we can free up the time and energy to say yes to the things that we actually want. In fact, say “no” to all the things you aren’t saying “F#$% YES!” to. Read this article for more information.
2) Re-examine your relationships. Who doesn’t make you feel good? Who makes you doubt yourself? Who do you feel will reject you if you act like your true self around them? Gracefully begin to distance yourself from these relationships. You might feel lonely for some time, but loneliness is sometimes a good thing.
3) Clear out your junk. Get rid of everything you don’t use, don’t like and don’t need. Marie Kondo, in the Life-changing Magic of Tidying Up, tells us to donate, trade, sell or dispose of everything we own that doesn’t bring us joy. I think that that is a wonderful litmus test to decide what we should be holding on to. Personally, one thing that did not bring me joy was an awful old desk in my room. It was uncomfortable and ugly. I replaced it with a free desk someone I knew was throwing away. I also donated 7 garbage bags of things: books, clothes and keepsakes from when I was a child. Since then, I feel like my room has been infused with a little bit more joy. Remove all your joyless items from your life and observe how your energy changes.
4) Sit in silence. This could be meditation, staring at the wall, chanting or simply breathing. Do it with eyes closed or open. I start at 20 minutes of meditation—a meditation teacher I had told me to always use a timer to increase self-discipline—and work up to 30 some days and an hour on really good days. Start with 5 minutes. Sitting in silence helps to quiet the mind and bring us back to the present. You’ll be amazed at what you discover when you sit in silence. Read some books on meditation or take a meditation course for specific techniques, but simply sitting in silence can offer amazing benefits as well.
5) Explore the topics that interested you as a child. When I got back into painting in 2008, after getting a science degree when I’d always been interested in the art, my life changed a little bit. I started a blog in 2011; it happens to be the one you’re reading now. Get back into whatever you were passionate about as a child, even if it’s just a cartoon you used to watch.
6) Start a gratitude jar. Once a day write down something that you are grateful for—use as much detail as possible—and toss it in a jar or shoebox. When you’re feeling low, open up the jar and read the messages you’ve left yourself. I also tried a similar exercise with things I wanted to manifest or achieve. A few months later I read my entries and realized I’d achieved every single one. It’s amazing what kind of energy glass jars can attract.
7) Read. According to James Altucher, you need to read 500 books on a given topic in order to become an expert on something. You have 5 years to reinvent yourself, so start your reading now. Read one book and then, from that book, read another. It’s interesting where reading trails can lead us. I read one book, which mentions another book, read that book and then end up in a new world I never knew existed. I personally feel a little anxious when I don’t have a book beside my bed, but if you’re new to reading, start small. There are two books that I’ve already mentioned in this blog post; start from either of them and then go from there. The next on my list is The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron, which was mentioned in The Power of No. Who knows where that one will lead me.
8) Get 8-9 hours of sleep a night.
9) Eat your vegetables, especially leafy greens. Avoid sugar, moderate alcohol and caffeine. Eat healthy protein and healthy fats (if you don’t know what those are, welcome to my blog! browse more of my articles on healthy eating or book an appointment with a naturopathic doctor like me!—shameless self promo).
10) Exercise. Enjoy some movement every day.
11) Exercise your idea muscle. According to James Altucher, creativity is a muscle that we need to exercise lest it atrophies, like any other muscle. He recommends getting a journal and writing 10-20 ideas in it every day. They don’t have to be good ideas, just any ideas. Removing the filter of self-judgement is important for allowing creativity to flourish. We need to strengthen that muscle.
12) Get some psychotherapy. Start dealing with childhood wounds and meeting your inner critic. Address your erroneous beliefs about yourself, the world and the past. Contact me to learn where to get quality psychotherapy in Toronto at an affordable price.
13) Expand your social circle. If you find that after following step 2 your social circle has gotten smaller, start to find ways to expand it. My favourite way to reinvent my social interactions, and thus begin to reinvent my life, is to look up a meetup.com group and start attending. If you’re not sure about a meet-up group you’ve attended, give it 2 more tries before deciding not to go back. In 3 tries, you’ve either made new friends and connections or decided that the energies of the group aren’t right for you. Online dating is another cool place to start meeting people outside your social sphere and getting over social anxieties.
14) Establish a self-care routine. What would someone who loved themselves do every day? Try to do at least some of those things every day. It could be going for a 15-minute walk before doing the dishes. It could be doing the dishes rather than leaving a messy kitchen for your more tired future self. Think about what things will make you feel good and then do them. Most of the time this involves bubble baths—light some candles while you’re at it. Read this article on self-care to learn more.
15) Write a Have-Done List. Instead of writing a list of things you have to do today—your standard To-Do List—write a list of things you’ve done at the end of every day. This fills people with a sense of accomplishment from looking at everything they’ve done. It definitely beats the stress and anxiety of looking at the list of things that must get done looming before them.
16) Treat other people as if it were their last days on earth. We’ve all been told to “live each day on Earth as if it were your last.” But what if you lived as if each day on Earth were everyone else’s last? You’d probably treat them a little more nicely, be open with them, be honest with them and not gossip or speak badly about them. You might appreciate them more. The idea is James’, not mine, but I like it. I think it’s a good rule for how to treat people.
17) Pay attention to what you’re jealous of and what you despise in others. The things we are jealous of in others are often our disowned selves. If I’m jealous of my friend’s Broadway debut I’m probably disowning a creative, eccentric and artistic side of myself that it’s time I give love and attention to. The things we’re bothered by in others often represent our shadow sides, the negative things we disown in ourselves. I used to tell myself the story that my ex-boyfriend was selfish; he took care of his needs first. However, maybe I just needed to start taking care of my own needs or come to terms with my own tendencies towards selfishness. Our negative emotions in relation to others can provide us with amazing tools of enlightenment and prime us well for our own personal reinventions.
18) Let go of the things that were not meant for you. Past relationships, missed opportunities, potential patients that never call back, “perfect” apartments, etc. Say good-bye to the things you don’t get. They’re for somebody else. These things are on their own journeys, as you are on yours. If you miss one taxi, know that there are other, probably better, ones following it. So, rather than wasting time chasing after the missed taxi, meditate on the street corner until the next one comes along.
19) Listen. Ask questions. Show curiosity. When someone finishes speaking to you, take a breath and count to 2 before responding. It’s amazing how your relationships change when engaging in the simple act of listening. I love the Motivational Interviewing technique of reflective listening. In reflective listening, we repeat back the other’s words while adding something new that we think they might have meant, looking for the meaning between the person’s—your friend’s, patient’s or client’s—words. I find that this has helped the person I’m speaking with feel truly listened to. If I get the meaning wrong, it gives the other person a chance to correct me and thereby ensure that we’re really communicating and understanding each other. This one simple tool—reflective listening—has transformed my naturopathic practice and interviewing skills.
20) Be patient. Personally, I’m terrible at this. But, like you, I’ll try working on the other 19 steps while I wait for the next stage of reinvention to take hold. I’ve ordered my next book from the library. See you all in 4 years.
I am in my grade 12 photography class. I am 17 years old. I have my head on the desk in abject despair, as I succumb to the intense stress that was my last year of high school, where every academic move I made would dictate my future. I remember catching sight of my thighs nestled on the hard-backed plastic chair beneath the desk. And, although my struggles in that moment were seemingly unrelated to my body, I remember feeling a sense of satisfaction as I made a mental note of how the once-curvy lines of my thighs were straightening themselves out, flattening and loosening some of the fat that cushioned my thigh bones. From this satisfaction, I drew a sense of calm; I was losing weight, therefore things would be all right. The notion sounds ridiculous now but, at the time, I associated thinness with all the things I valued: friendship, love and even success. These things could only take place in someone inhabiting a thin body. I would, naturally have to complete the prerequisite of achieving “thinness” before I could have any of those things. This belief, rather than creating a connection between the rest of my life and my experience in my body, only served to fragment my bodily experience, as I tried to form my shape into the mould I thought it should inhabit.
Fast-forward more than 10 years later. There is a sale at a store I used to frequent as a teenager. Since all my jeans have the coordinated foresight to spring holes at the same time (between the thighs, naturally), I decide to go in and try on some pants. When I realize that I take a full two sizes smaller than the last time I ever slid this brand of jeans over my hips, my chest is filled with the same contented bubbling I experienced that afternoon in photography. The anxiety of my future – my career, my empty wallet and my relationship -relaxes. I walk out with two pairs.
I am wearing the jeans on the subway when I run into my former boss. She and I chat about the weather and the school and she tells me that her young daughters refuse to wear pants because “they encumber their knees at circle time.” We chuckle at the humor of the situation and my mind travels to my closely wrapped thighs, feels the snugness of denim surrounding them. For me, pants serve as a container for the flesh that threatens to spill out of them. I remember wondering when my definition of “comfort” evolved from the freedom of the body to expand, move and breathe to this feeling of secure confinement I experience inside my jeans. I doubt these pants would allow my knees to properly stretch themselves out and bend at circle time. Luckily, when you’re pushing 30, you get to sit in chairs while people tell you stories.
As a naturopathic doctor, I preoccupy myself with the relationship our bodies have with our environment and lifestyles: how do the products we use affect our hormones? How does the food we eat and the movement we engage in affect our internal terrain? How does our mindset prevent disease? What I often don’t ask is how the learned relationship one has with their body affects health. Does the way I view my lower body cause me to engage in behaviours that affect my health? How are my tight jeans impeding lymphatic flow? How do they affect my digestion? Does my sense of self-worth affect my blood sugar? The answer is it absolutely can, if my sense of self-worth causes me to ignore my body’s food cravings and hunger signals. The way we treat ourselves and imagine our own health stems from our relationships with our bodies, which in turn dictates our future health states.
Susie Orbach, a feminist psychotherapist and author, once wrote that female babies are breastfed for less time, and picked up and cuddled less than male babies. She goes on to describe how this early treatment of women, “characterized by emotional deprivation and feelings of unentitlement”, secures the female’s place as a second-class citizen in society. More than that it teaches women to disconnect with our bodies. If our needs are not met at an early age, we are led to believe that these needs are wrong. We are taught to ignore the smelling, farting, bleeding, overflowing, curving bodies we are born with and try to recreate a “false body” that is perfect and that begins to believe it is “comfortable” being squeezed and starved and stuffed into pointy-toed shoes. Or we simply develop the ability to de-identify with the discomfort. This mechanism can lead to injury or disease if we fail to truly listen to what our bodies are trying to alert us to. (Matthew Remski writes about this extensively in his amazing research project on yoga injuries called What Are We Actually Doing in Asana (WAWADIA). I’ve been devouring his articles this week).
Orbach goes on to theorize that the symptoms the body produces in a disease state just might be a cry for help; the body is attempting to insist on its existence, to demand to be heard. So what then are menstrual cramps? Are they simply a result of inflammation or a hormonal imbalance caused by lifestyle or are they attempts made by the body to cry out, “I am female! I am menstruating! I am in need of attention!”
I remember a patient I had who would deny herself life pleasures. Convinced she needed to lose weight, she would ignore her hunger signals, even proudly telling me that she would turn to her stomach and tell it to “shut up” when the grumbling became too loud. Her chief complaint was chronic pain. I wonder if her body’s pain was simply its way of telling her it existed. I wonder if she’d have found a way to sufficiently answer her stomach’s calling, the pain would have subsided. Perhaps by listening to the experience of our bodies we can start to properly take care of our health. We can start by wearing comfortable pants that don’t “encumber the knees”, moving naturally, embracing our sexual appetites, feeding ourselves the food we truly crave and answering the need for physical touch and rest.
In a society that tends to view the body as an object, a machine that sometimes gets jammed with inconveniences such as pain, menstrual issues and eczema, I wonder how our collective health would change if we began to experience the body as a tool for healing and self-growth – something inherently wise.
To share one last story, I remember sitting across from Teresa, our school counsellor, while I was still a naturopathic student. At the time I was deciding to break up with my then-boyfriend thereby ending a 5-year relationship. I told her I had never been clear on the difference between the fear and apprehension that came with seizing something good and the repulsed feeling of avoiding something bad. This has led me to make decisions in my life that weren’t necessarily right for me. She asked me to cultivate the two feelings and locate their positions in my body. “See if there is any difference,” She told me. As I tuned in I immediately noticed that fear was closer to my heart. It was higher up and it bore the faint pleasant glow of excitement behind its initial anxiety. Disgust was located lower down. It felt like a stomach ache, a sense of doom, of indigestion: a hard-to-digest truth. It was in this moment that I fully appreciated the body’s wisdom. The old adage “listen to your gut” began to ring true to me. My gut was sending me a message that was loud and clear, but it was up to me to listen to it.
So what are some exercises we can do to cultivate body awareness and re-inhabit our bodies?
– Practice regular body scan mediations, such as those prescribed by the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) model taught by Jon Kabat-Zinn.
– Try Susie Orbach’s “Mirror Exercise” in her book Fat is a Feminist Issue or spend 3 minutes a day for 21 days staring at a body part that you have a hard time identifying with. By staring at the nose you’ve always felt was too big on a regular basis, you are able to incorporate it into your sense of self and accept it as something beautiful, in the way you would come to love the same nose on your grandfather, daughter or dear friend.
– Set a timer every hour while at work to remind yourself to tune in to your body and your breath. Notice your feet planted on the floor and move your awareness up through your feet to the top of your head. Ask yourself if there’s anything your body needs: are you thirsty, hungry, bored or lonely? Do you need to stand up and stretch? Do you need a hug?
– Get regular acupuncture or constitutional hydrotherapy to help the flow of Qi through the body.
– Finally, touch yourself. Practice ayurvedic self-massages or apply a natural moisturising lotion or oil before bed. Practice self-care in the form of hydrotherapy. Even placing the hands over the heart and breathing into that area will help to release oxytocin, a hormone responsible for love and bonding, creating feelings of calmness and attachment to the physical body.
I am afraid of money, especially when combined with health and medicine. Coming from a nation like Canada, it has been ingrained in the fibre of my being that healthcare should be completely accessible, read: free. As I embark on opening up a private practice as a naturopathic doctor, I am faced with a dilemma: I must charge my own patients for my services and, in this way, make my living.
This makes me afraid because, as mentioned above, I have a fear of money. I have seen money corrupt or become the main motivation for people to wake up in the morning. I have seen family members enslave themselves in certain lifestyles full of wants, rather than needs, that required large sums of money to maintain. I am also afraid of attracting only a certain kind of patient – those that can afford my services – and alienating a large demographic that naturopathic medicine could help. I don’t want to have a practice that is exclusive; I want to be able to reach a large number of patients and strive towards my goal of healing the world. What if no one can afford me? What if the people who can afford me don’t believe that I’m worth what I charge?
And in proper Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) fashion, from this dilemma surfaces a core belief: I am unworthy.
New practitioners struggle with unworthiness. After all, we are still learning and yet many expect us to be health experts. We emerge from school and enter into a society that has topical knowledge of health, especially natural health, but feigns depth of understanding. This can make us feel that we don’t know as much as we do. My relatives watch Dr. Oz and self-prescribe supplements. If they’re already taking fish oil, because they read about it on some health blog written by a second year ND student, why do they need a naturopathic doctor to tell them the same thing?
So, since CBT got me into this mess, let’s use it to facilitate the healing of my personal relationship with cash by examining some truths about the value of naturopathic medicine. I’m vaguely aware that this post has an uncomfortably self-aware, self-promontory tone, but my main goal is to convince myself, thereby coming to terms with my official début into this capitalist society. Hopefully it’s remotely entertaining and/or educational for the rest of you.
Naturopathic doctors are expensive. I have paid for 8 years of post-secondary education. The 4 years I was in naturopathic medical school; tuition alone was $20,000 a year. My OSAP debt accumulates a matcha green tea soy latte (unsweetened, of course)’s worth of interest daily. I owe other institutions and family members money. That’s just tuition. Now consider the fact that I wasn’t working during these 8 years. If I had gotten a job with a modest salary of say, $40-50,000 dollars a year, I could have made roughly $400,000 by now. I’ll stop, because this exercise is depressing me. But I think we all get the idea. So, financially, a naturopathic diploma is worth a truckload of cash, which can buy another truckload of self-prescribed supplements.
Being in practice is expensive. To get started we need electronic medical record software, a dispensary, acupuncture needles, linens, rent, licencing fees, malpractice insurance, association memberships, continuing education credits, website maintenance and hosting, and the list goes on. Being in practice can cost upwards of $200 a day. There are not many professions that pay to go to work each day. But not many professions put you in a position that allows you to heal the world… two sides to every coin (pardon the money pun).
NDs coming out of school are seasoned experts. Malcolm Gladwell, in his book Blink, famously tells us that it takes 10,000 hours to master something. Well, naturopathic medical school, with its 1200 hours of clinical training and 3000 hours of classroom training (not to mention the exams, studying, preceptoring, etc.) puts us at roughly half that number. Add in the numerous books I’ve read out of interest, the 300+ blog articles that I’ve researched and written and the fact that there isn’t a way to separate the practitioner from the medicine – “Doctor heal thyself” has become a mantra we regularly chant and put into practice – and you might just get up to 10,000 before graduation day. Or surpass it. I love health food stores, I do. But the minimum wage-earning employee recommending you the same brand of B-vitamins his sister takes just doesn’t have the expertise we do. You need a naturopathic doctor.
Medicine is not, and has never been free. I would not want to live in a country without universal healthcare. I believe that every citizen deserves equal treatment and equal access to quality health services. I believe that no one should receive priority based on their economic means rather than health needs. That being said, the medical system we support in Canada is quite expensive. It requires the input of hard-earned tax dollars. Some of these dollars support accessible emergency care, hospital stays, life-saving treatments and primary care. Some of them support poly-pharmacy: multiple prescriptions doled out to seniors. Some of these tax dollars are channelled into practices that do not promote health. Our healthcare system is not really health care; it doesn’t promote health, it manages disease. It should more appropriately be termed sick care. I don’t believe that health promotion like naturopathic medicine should be fee-for-service. I dream of a day where we are allowed to practice autonomously and offer those who need our services accessible care without charge. Until that day, sick care requires a lot of tax dollars and health care requires us to pay out of pocket. We need to pay for health care to avoid channelling all our resources into sick care. It’s the cold, hard truth.
Naturopathic medicine saves people money in the short and long-term. Whether it’s paring down your list of supplements to what you actually need, rather than what’s in vogue (Green coffee bean extract, anyone? I don’t think I’ve ever recommended it to anyone), to preventing and managing more expensive diseases down the road, I believe that an investment in seeing an ND will help save money. We empower you to take care of your own health. In the hands of an ND, you won’t need to visit your walk-in clinic for some ineffective and potentially harmful antibiotics the next time you get a cold; you’ll be taught how to manage common health concerns at home and feel in control of your body. Also, prescription drugs are expensive; I once paid $70 (that was after insurance covered half) for 6 migraine pills. I quickly figured out how to manage my monthly migraines naturally when I realized this system was unsustainable financially.
Naturopathic doctors are not in this to get rich. Due to the stress and lack of preparedness in setting up a business, a large percentage of NDs who graduate with the skills and knowledge we acquire are no longer practising. This is a harsh and sad reality. It means that the community is deprived of some very effective healers and the chance to be touched by what I know to be a powerful form of medicine; a true form of medicine. If I were motivated by money, I would have studied commerce at Queen’s, rather than science. I would have gotten my degree in 2008 and would be sailing my private yacht off the coast of Barbados right now. As it stands, my primary financial goal is to move out of my parent’s house and sustain myself financially while contributing to society and doing what I love in the meantime. And, if I achieve this goal, I still plan on continuing to purchase my clothing second-hand.
Money is a relative measurement. In the book The Wisdom of Insecurity by Alan Watts, money is described as “a mere symbol of wealth”. Watts tells us that money is a measurement of wealth, a representation of the real necessities that can be exchanged for it and that it is a mistake to give money itself value. There is nothing to be afraid of when it comes to money if all we see it as is a representation of needs. However, we live in a society where we don’t think twice about paying a few hundred dollars for clothes or shoes we don’t need, and then cringe when we see a bill for a service that has helped us move on a path to true healing. After investing in time with an ND, your life and health may never be the same. After paying for a pair of shoes or new haircut, your headaches and digestive issues are still going to be around. Your hair looks great, though. I’ll admit that.
Insurance companies don’t need the money. My insurance company once covered me for $20 of my $200 dentist appointment (in which I was told “everything looks great!”). If your health benefits cover naturopathic medicine you owe it to society as a whole to use up every last dollar of those benefits. Now is the perfect time to get started on that.
I would pay for a naturopathic doctor. How many used car salesman do you know who would personally buy the model that they’re selling? As a poor student I have seen naturopathic doctors, interns, chiropracters and massage therapists as a patient. I’ve gone to Body Blitz after back-breaking exams and have shelled out quite a bit of cash for supplements. The reason? There is value in spending money on these things; they work. So even though I am worried about coming up with the cash to replace my 4-year old computer, I don’t hesitate to fork over $50 for a bottle of quality B-complex vitamins.
Finding peace with making money involves a certain amount of hunger: becoming an ND and starting a practice is expensive. However, maintaining integrity as a doctor and putting the interests of my patients first is a priority for me. That’s why I have decided to offer patients supplements from my personal dispensary at Healthwave without mark-ups, at least for the time being. While many practitioners rightly and fairly choose to make part of their income off of vitamin sales, I have decided not to. Contact me to find out more.
Things aren’t always what they seem. So goes the old adage.
The smiling mother chasing her kids in the park may be battling an ugly divorce or struggling with the guilt of a turbid affair. The white picket fence may not display the undercurrent story of addiction that runs through her life’s narrative. The beautiful home across the street provides a shiny façade that hides the modern-day enslavement to an unpleasant job that pays the mortgage.
I’ve come to understand that as a society we value the appearance of things rather than their actual value. We display to the world the happy side of life. We portray to others a sense of perfection and cover up the less-than-desirable aspects of our lives, creating the illusion that our lives are perfect and successful, free of suffering and pain.
I woke up in the middle of the night to find the dragon lying in my bed. Snoring politely, he looked very small, about the size of a beagle. He was staying on his side of the bed, so I tried to get back to sleep. I’d met this beast before and knew he often brought with him ominous feelings of death and despair, but sometimes he would show up at night only to be gone in the morning. Maybe this time I wouldn’t need to worry.
The next morning, though, the dragon was still there. It rolled over and looked at me with its yellow lizard eyes. Its grey, shiny scales were smooth and glistening. I felt a sharp shiver of fear run through me. I wondered if this time he was here to stay. I worried about what he might do.
I know about the healing power of art. Sitting in front of a painting and quietly filling in a private world of colour helps to open up the right side of the brain, dissolving the hard edges of worn thought patterns and softening us to possibility. I know that wonderful realizations arise from the quiet space that art can provide. Bright colours draw attention to inner darkness. Self-criticism becomes louder and steps out into the light, allowing us to properly examine it.
Therefore, when I decided to attend an art therapy workshop, I figured myself to be already part of the choir who I thought would be preached to. I knew that art held the magical power to do deep psychological work. I was just curious as to how that would look in a therapeutic setting.
If you’ve ever participated in the medical system somewhere in the world, chances are there is a medical chart out there with your name on it. I have one in my hands now and I task myself with the job of getting to know it. It is based on a true story: a patient who has entrusted me with his case. I read through the 200-page document, transfixed as stories in the untidy scrawl of half a dozen interns – some of them now well-immersed in practices of their own – unfold on the white pages. These pieces of paper, bound together by a fragile cardboard shell, capture snapshots in time of the encounter between these young practitioners and the patient. I read between the lines. Coffee stains represent early mornings that followed late nights, plainly stated observations reflect the colour of different lenses with which these young naturopaths-in-training saw the world at that time. Their pens tell 6 versions of the same story. Their treatment plans tell the story of emerging practice styles and personal healing philosophies.
Losses and pivotal life changes can make us feel as if our world of comforts and familiarity is crumbling away beneath us, leaving us with a sense of emptiness and shaken emotional instability. However awful these times may seem, they can also offer us the gift of intimately knowing ourselves, and the opportunity to grow and learn. We are at our most vulnerable, our most creative and, in a sense, our most awake and alive during times of emotional duress. Our sensitivity is heightened, and although many of these feelings are extremely painful, our ability to experience this pain also leaves us open to the possibility of truly feeling everything the world has to offer: excruciating suffering but also the promise of immense joy.
When we think of healing we often think of taking medications, receiving treatments or long courses of therapy. We often overlook the importance of the little, comforting things we can do to help nurture ourselves through painful times. These rituals and small comforts are powerful healing facilitators; we only need the courage to turn to them and to trust that we are on the right path.
Creating a vision board is a great, right-brained way to identify your goals for the new year.
New Year’s Day has come and gone, meaning it’s time for me to dust myself off, put away the wool blanket I’ve been camping out under with a good book, wash my coffee cup, change out of my pyjama pants and move from a state of “being” to “doing” again (just a bit more doing). I’ve never been a huge fan of New Year’s resolutions; they’ve always seemed to me like a fatalistic fad that we have already given ourselves permission to break. Even before we set off on our trek, we know that most New Year’s resolutions are doomed to die out and so we often resign ourselves to failing before we begin.
That being said, the new year, while just a symbolic date on our calenders, does signal new beginnings. It’s the end of down time – most of us are heading back to school after a period of rest and rejuvenation. It marks the passing of the winter solstice; the days are beginning to get longer, the earth is gathering warmth and rekindling our inner fires, which bring with them the motivation we need to accomplish our deepest, most important goals. So, this first post of the new year is dedicated to goal setting. It’s one of the skills we naturopathic doctors (and naturopathic interns) implement often, because getting to the root cause of disease and walking the path of health is never as easy as saying “start running and eating kale”. It requires a certain amount of foresight and personal empowerment.