Are some physical ailments “all in our heads?” The mind is a powerful organ, capable of creating reality for us. In the world of health, the mind can be a powerful healing tool, or a powerful hindrance to true cure.
As a Buddhist tenet suggests, all suffering is present in the mind: pain, itching and discomfort especially. The mind, when stressed, has the ability to produce a number of physical symptoms, pain being one of them, but also skin ailments, digestive concerns, weight gain, hypertension and virtually any other complaint take up significant residence in the mind. Is your eczema expressing an anger that you’ve been holding in? Is your inability to lose weight a need to shield yourself from the world? Our homeopathy professor holds that the our symptoms are outer expressions of an inner, emotional state and, in controlling our minds and dealing with repressed emotions, we can resolve the physical as well.
In 1955, the doctor Henry K. Beecher named this tendency of the mind the “Placebo Effect.” According to Beecher, 35% of patients got better when given a sugar pill, indicating that, when the mind believed it was being treated, it spontaneously resolved symptoms based solely on its own expectations. This effect was so pronounced that, to this day, clinical trials are all but tossed out if they are not controlled for the placebo effect by giving one group a sugar pill.
It’s unfortunate that in modern healthcare this healing power of the mind is dismissed as “placebo” and not exploited further. After all, harnessing the power of the mind is cost-effective and side effect-free. There are many ways to enhance the Placebo, or as some of my supervisors like to term it, the “Meaning Response,” such as good patient rapport, a healing intention and therapeutic setting. However, when we talk about placebo, we’re really just talking about tapping into the mind-body connection, harnessing the mind’s powerful ability to influence the physical body. Giving patients a sugar pill is only one part of it.
Seeing patients at the Robert Schad Naturopathic Clinic made it clear to me how much of an obstacle to cure mindset can be. Often times patients’ core beliefs prevent them from getting better, especially if mental and emotional issues are at the root of their physical concerns. In many cases there is an ingrained belief of benefit to being unwell, or an unconscious fear of getting better. I find that identifying this fear helps untangle some of the mental obstacles to cure and helps patients approach healing with a renewed enlightenment.
Tapping into these unconscious beliefs is difficult, however. If approached from the wrong angle, the topic can seem insulting or belittling from the patients’ perspective. There are books such as “Messages from the Body” or Louise Hay’s “Heal Your Life”, that attribute emotional afflictions to physical ones in a dictionary-like layout, however the emotions behind a complaint are individualized and therefore such mind-body exercises are best explored on an individual level.
In the book Fat is a Feminist Issue, a comprehensive self-help book for compulsive eating and negative body image, there is a useful visualization that helps individuals access the feelings and beliefs that are preventing them from getting well. This book focusses on disordered eating and weight loss, however I’ve used the same visualization for a variety of complaints, including depression, circulatory problems, chronic infections and skin issues. The visualization consists of asking the individual to observe themselves as they are and then imagine that their condition is getting worse, then better. The visual dramatization often allows the individual to access the deep-held feelings, both positive and negative, that accompany both the worsening of and the alleviation of their complaint.
To truly access the deeper-held feelings, this meditation should be performed repeatedly. Those who attempt the visualization commonly realize:
1) There are positive aspects to having the condition: the condition protects them in some way, the condition benefits them in some way.
2) There are negative aspects to recovering: There is something threatening about the person they could become or the life they could lead without being burdened by the condition. There is something frightening about moving forward.
For stubborn conditions that do not respond to treatment, or conditions that commonly relapse, it becomes clear that, unless the mental-emotional reasons for having the condition or avoiding remission are addressed, cure is impossible.
This visualization is best done lying down and relaxed. It can be done with a trusted healthcare practitioner or alone as a meditation exercise. The party scene can be substituted for another scene that may be more relevant for you and words pertaining to your specific condition can be substituted as well. The dots (…) indicate a pause in the narrative.
“Fat/Thin Fantasy” from Fat is a Feminist Issue by Susie Orbach
I’d like you to close your eyes, get as comfortable as you can, follow your breathing, in and out, in and out, and relax…
I’d like you to imagine that you are at a party…. This can be either a real party or an imaginary one… It might be a dancing party, a talking party, a small intimate party… Set the scene and take notice of your thoughts…. feelings… and body sensations… What are you wearing?… How do you feel in those clothes?…. What is your posture like?… Try and feel yourself in your body…. Now notice your behaviour at this party…. Are you an observer?… Are you actively mixing with other people?…. do you feel withdrawn?….
As you observe yourself at this party, I’d like you to imagine that (your condition is worsening)… How do you feel?… Try to be aware of your feelings…. and thoughts….observe any negative feelings about (having your condition worsened)… observe any positive feelings about (feeling this way)… what are you wearing?…. How is your body positioned?…. What is going on at the party and how are you interacting with the other people there?…. Now, imagine that (your condition) is communicating with the people at the party…. What is it saying to others?… is there a way in which it helps you to (have this condition) in this situation?… Does (having the condition) allow you to do or say certain things or act in particular ways?…
Now imagine that (your condition) is slowly vanishing, fading away and, in this visualization, you are completely healthy…. can you see yourself?…. can you feel your body (without the condition)?… notice what you are wearing…. what do your clothes say about you?… notice your body position…. you posture…. what do you see from the perspective of being completely healthy?… do you view the party, other people, with different eyes?… how do the people at the party view you?…. How do you feel?…. pay attention to any feelings that arise… positive feelings…. and negative feelings… are you sure of yourself?…. do you feel vulnerable?… are you you?…How are you getting on with the others at the party?… Are there differences in the way that you interact with others?…. Is there anything scary of unpleasant about (having this condition)?…
Now I’d like to you to imagine that you are back to the body you have now…. does the atmosphere change?… can you contact any feelings of relief about being back in your present body?… Allow yourself time to experience whatever feelings are coming up… notice your responses to other people… how you feel about yourself… watch these feelings without judgement, as an observer….
Now, look back over this entire visualization exercise…. see what new information came up for you about yourself… When you are ready, come back into the room and open your eyes…
Reference:
Orbach, Susie (1978). Fat is a Feminist Issue. Galahad Books: New York, NY.
I recently came across this Ted Talk, by Shawn Anchor, recommended by a fellow student. The insightful, well-delivered, entertaining talk is important in the field of naturopathic medicine because it stresses the importance of positivity for living a life of health and happiness.
Shawn expresses the idea that only 10% of our inner happiness is due to external factors: our job, possessions, education, etc, while the other 90% is attributed to how we perceive those circumstances. We live in a society where we focus on reaching goals, thinking that once we reach those goals we will be happier: “When I lose 20 pounds, I’ll feel happy with myself,” “When I get that raise, I’ll like my job,” or “If I get into that school, then I’ll feel great.” It reminded me of a story our Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction teacher told us on Tuesday night:
Therewas once a fisherman, sleeping in his boat. He had caught all his fish for the day and so he was enjoying the sunny afternoon by taking a well-deserved nap, when along came a businessman.
“What are you doing?” Asked the businessman.
“I’m resting.” Replied the fisherman, “I’ve caught all my fish for the day.”
“Why don’t you go out and catch more?” Asked the businessman.
“Why would I do that?” Wondered the fisherman.
“Well, if you went out and caught more fish, you’d make more money.” Stated the businessman, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“What would I do with more money?” Inquired the fisherman.
“You could buy a bigger boat.”
“And what would I do with a bigger boat?”
“Well,” replied the businessman, “You could catch even more fish, then. Then you could make even more money, buy a fleet of boats, employ other fishermen, catch even more fish and make even more money.” He finished, seeming pleased with his insightful advice.
“And what would I do then?” Asked the fisherman, who by now was very confused.
“Well,” exhaled the businessman, on a role now, “then you could really enjoy life!”
The fisherman looked at his beautiful surroundings, the afternoon sun dancing on the calm waters of the harbour; his humble but comfortable boat serving as the perfect place to rest. He looked back up at the businessman, who by now was looking quite triumphant, and replied,
“And what the heck do you think I’m already doing?”
Like the fisherman, being content with your life’s present circumstances is the key to increased enjoyment and satisfaction. According to Shawn Anchor, becoming more positive isn’t hard: he proposes a way to increase your satisfaction and overall happiness by spending only 2 minutes a day for 21 days in a row.
He suggests a list of activities that one might engage in, including exercise, meditation or journalling. One of the activities that stood out for me is expressing daily gratitude by taking 2 minutes at the end of each day to journal 3 things you have been thankful for in the past 24 hours. According to Shawn, this simple task is enough to set the brain on a different path, one that leads to increased happiness.
I often find that, in my life, I spend my time focusing on my goals and aspirations for the future. While this striving for future goals is what I’ve been taught to do in order to experience successes in my life, it results in my inability to pay attention to and enjoy my life in the present. Changing my lens of focus to the life blessings I have now allows me to marinate in the present. I find that, while it may takes some time to shift my gaze to the things I already have, rather than the things I’d like to have, once I got started, it was hard to stop at just listing three things. I felt like I wasn’t doing my life justice by excluding the numerous gifts I’m given on a daily basis.
I also like the idea of putting these pieces of gratitude on small pieces of paper and storing them in a glass jar in a visible place. At the end of the month, or during a bad day, I open my jar and pull out a few pieces of gratitude, reminding myself how charmed my life actually is, and thus rewiring my brain to truly appreciate and enjoy it.
One of the reasons I chose to do my undergrad at Queen’s University (in Kingston, Ontario) was the beauty of its campus. The ivy-covered limestone buildings filled with me a romantic vision of what a student’s life should be. I imaged myself strolling to class among these majestic white castles or languidly reclining on the deep green lawns, ivy covered limestone surrounding me, as I perused my latest textbook.
A classmate recently lent me a book that introduced me to the intriguing field of “narrative medicine.” The book is called Narrative Medicine: Honoring the Stories of Illness, written by Rita Charon, MD, an internist practicing in New York City. Narrative medicine combines the practice of medicine with simultaneously learning to recognize, absorb, interpret, and be moved by the stories of illness.
According to the book, the practice of narrative medicine builds empathy and compassion for patients by giving meaning to their experience through stories. It allows doctors to bear witness to the patients and their suffering and to enable those who are suffering to be heard, thus making their care more effective and, by virtue of the doctor’s presence and ability to testify to the patient’s pain, the pain is lessened somewhat.
The Need for Narrative in Modern and Natural Medicine
Rita writes, “the medical impulse toward replicability and universality has muted doctors’ realization of the singularity and creativity of their acts of observation and description.” In medical school we come to learn that, when asked to choose between a) b) c) d) or e), all of the above, there can only be one right answer. Through these educative measures, we are led to believe that there is no room for creativity or individuality in medicine. Narrative medicine, however, begins to challenge that belief. According to Dr. Charon, there is a struggle in medicine to balance the need to properly observe the phenomenon of the individual patient and his or her particular clinical presentation before us, with the need to fit people into diagnostic categories. Oftentimes, the scale tips to the latter, simply by nature of patient volume or ease of the encounter. When we fit people into categories we can ease the anxiety that comes with uncertainty. We are soothed by the security of being right, the same way we are soothed by correctly choosing c) on a multiple choice exam. Patients, however, have come to resent this aspect of modern medicine. Rita writes, “patients complain that doctors or hospitals treat them like numbers or like items on an assembly line. They lament that their singularity is not valued and that they have been reduced to that level at which they repeat other human bodies.” In Rita Charon’s eyes, however, we are beginning to see a new emergence of both doctors and patients taking back the right to patient individuality in medical care. We naturopathic doctors hear this often, when asking why a patient decided to come to see us in lieu of a medical doctor, and hearing that they were driven by the need to be treated “like a person”, not just a disease.
Our bodies and our health are integral parts of the narratives of our lives. And so a personal medical history that, in the case of a medical school exam, takes about 8-10 minutes to complete, actually carries in it the patient’s life story. Everything that the body have been through the self has also been through and whatever has happened to the body remains ingrained in the self and forms a part of the patient’s narrative. Kathryn Montgomery, a colleague of Rita Charon’s once said, “you can accomplish an entire medical interview by simply asking a patient, “tell me about your scars.'”
Dr. Rita Charon writes, “without doubt, the teller and the listener in the clinical setting work together to discover or create the plot of their concerns. The better equipped clinicians are to listen for or read for a plot, the more accurately will they entertain likely diagnoses and be alert for unlikely but possible ones. To have developed methods of searching for plot or even imagining what the plot might be equips clinicians to wait, patiently, for a diagnosis to declare itself, confident that eventually the fog will rise and the contours of meaning will become clear.” Narrative, we learn, is essential for understanding illness.
Receiving a Patient History
Sir Richard Bayliss, another colleague of Charon’s, writes, “not only must the physician hear what is said but with a trained ear he or she must listen to the exact words that the patient uses and the sequence in which they are uttered. Histories must be received, not taken.”
Rita Charon’s current method of “receiving” a patient history is described eloquently in her book. It differs so much from the style we are taught in medical school, that I feel it is worth sharing. She writes that, when she first meets a patient, she begins by saying, “tell me what you think I should know about your situation.” She then makes the commitment to listen, without speaking or writing anything down. In medical school we are taught to organize a chart by history of presenting illness, past medical history, family history, etc. However, Charon realized that, by allowing the patient to direct his or her own clinical interview, the information all comes out eventually. She believes it is crucial to allow the patients to narrate their own history, allowing the information to take its own order, to formulate itself into not just a coherent plot but also a literary form, so that the entire story becomes apparent, and free from her own bias and internal or external editing. While the patient tells his or her story, Dr. Charon listens as intently as she can, registering diction, form, images and the pace of speech emitted from the patient’s mouth. She tries not to interrupt or confer signs of encouragement, pleasure or disapproval. She refrains from asking questions. And, she takes the time to absorb the metaphors, idioms, accompanying gestures, plot and characters involved in the patient’s narrative.
Once her patient has finished with his or her telling, Dr. Charon proceeds to the physical exam portion of the clinical visit. She tries to capture what has been said by writing the story down in her chart while the patient changes into his or her gown and readies for the physical examination.
Dr. Charon writes that it has taken her a while to perfect this form of receiving a patient history. As unorthodox as it may seem, she writes that she has come to thoroughly enjoy the individuality and humanity of the stories that come from each person, each one so different from any other and each belonging to a singular person and body. It has helped her understand her patients, maintain empathy for them and provide them with what she believes is more effective care.
The Parallel Chart
Rita Charon believes that, not only is the use of narrative helpful for the doctor-patient relationship, it can be used to help physicians and other healthcare practitioners digest their experience as well. In one of her years as a clinical supervisor, she developed a practice called the Parallel Chart. As medical students and doctors, we are required to write our patient’s stories in the form of medical charts, following a specific format, creating what can be viewed as an entire literary genre used solely among medical professionals. Medical students and doctors alike are expected to learn to write and maintain a coherent medical chart, according to the standards of this genre.
However, as a clinical supervisor, Rita Charon also has her young precepts write a Parallel Chart, one that will not be filed for reference but that is just for the benefit of the practitioner, written in plain language, about one of his or her patients. She tells her students, “every day you write in the hospital chart about each of your patients. You know exactly what to write there and the form in which to write it. You write about your patient’s current complaints, the results of the physical exam, laboratory findings, opinions of consultants, and the plan. If your patient dying of prostate cancer reminds you of your grandfather, who died of that disease last summer, and each time you go into the patient’s room, you weep for your grandfather, you cannot write that in the hospital chart. We will not let you. And yet it has to be written somewhere. You write it in the Parallel Chart.”
After giving her students these instructions, Rita Charon meets with them in a group once a month and gives everyone the chance to read a Parallel Chart entry of their choice out loud. After the reading, she proceeds to comment on the genre, temporality, metaphors, structure and style of the text that has been written, using her literary background as a guide. The other students then have a chance to respond to the text, creating a dialogue surrounding their clinical experiences.
She reflects that her students in the past have written about their deep attachment to patients, their feelings of helplessness in the clinical encounter in their role as mere medical students, the rage, shame and humiliation they experience in the face of disease as well as their awe at patients’ courage. Dr. Rita Charon claims that the students who undertake the task of keeping a Parallel Chart have found that they are more in touch with their own emotions during the clinical encounter, feel deeper empathy for their patients and fellow colleagues and are able to understand their patients more fully. Research is even being conducted at Columbia University to evaluate the effectiveness of Parallel Charting, finding that physicians who engage in this practice are more proficient and effective at conducting medical interviews, performing medical procedures and developing doctor-patient relationships with patients.
In many ways, naturopathic medicine already acknowledges the importance of patient story-telling when it comes to healing from disease. We treat people as individuals and look for the root cause of illness, taking into account the story behind each of our patient’s “scars”. However, as our school curriculum becomes more medicalized and primary care-focused, I believe that our need to conduct efficient medical interviews and develop effective treatment plans is in danger of displacing our inherent philosophies. Taking the time to read Rita Charon’s book opened my eyes to the importance of patient individuality and respect for patient narrative. To understand illness, it is essential to integrate narrative into the framework of the clinical encounter by giving patients the space to tell, while also giving ourselves, the practitioners, the space for our own telling with the intention of becoming better, more empathetic doctors.
This post was written in the summer of 2012. Although I hate Mayor Rob Ford, I have to hand it to the man; he must really have a strong sense of self to not get himself down over the very open disdain most Torontonians hold for him. I wonder if my ego would take that kind of repeated assault over and over again, especially that whole business with his weight-loss.
I was always kind of a chubby kid and, when society started make me conscious of the fact that this was not the way to be I decided to exercise and, essentially, begin dieting. This has led to a life where I rarely get through a day without at least having the notion weight sail through my mind’s seas. This seems kind of depressing when expressed, but it’s a concern that I work to push through, taking from it what serves to make me healthy and striving to leave behind the parts of it that lead to obsession and self-loathing. Many of us deal with similar mental struggles; young women are brought up in a society where nothing less than perfection is accepted. We have many emotional battles to fight.
Just the other day I was sitting in a Yorkville cafe, near my work, being kept company by my (closed) USMLE Step 1 review book and being kept entertained by watching passersby through the window. Yorkville is an interesting place to people-watch because everyone who struts by looks like they’re trying to find their way to a fashion runway, but got lost and then walked into Holt Renfrew, and then into Starbucks and now they’re back to looking for the runway they’re supposed to be walking down. Everyone is wearing an outfit that probably costs more than my student debt and, most of all, it seems that everyone is skinny.
That day, however, I contemplated my surroundings while sipping my coffee and I thought, while observing a fashionably, particularly stick-like woman, we’re told that that’s the body that all women should live in, regardless of profession, personality or personal health history. We live our lives obsessing over how to squish our own shapes into the size of clothes that woman wears, giving little thought to the organs, tissues and vis medicatrix naturae, or life force, that actually lies inside each of us. As I marinated in this little personal revelation, I took another sip of coffee and admitted, She looks nice, fashionable and healthy and maybe that body shape is good for her. However, there are many shapes of beautiful and I don’t think that shape is good for me.
I leaned back in my chair and felt the contentedness of having released part of a great mental burden.
Fast forward to a few days later: I give my class a speaking and writing assignment partly to kill time, to foster creativity and to improve their language skills, especially writing, which is always abysmal. I have each group generate a list of 10, random, unrelated words and then hand the list over to the other group, who must create a short story using all the words. As a class activity, it actually worked out quite well.
However, one of the groups, headed by a stronger student, who has a rather witty, yet dark sense of humour, created a story featuring, you guess it, me, their teacher. Sometimes I enjoy the limelight of teaching, other times I shy away from it, passing the buck onto the students, which actually works to their favour. Most of the time, however, I appreciate working with other people and getting to know these interesting students from a variety of different countries.
This incident, however, made me want to revert back to a student hiding in the back of the classroom. The gist of their story was that I, Talia, am invited to a party but can’t go because I need a new dress and I can’t find a beautiful dress to fit me because I’m too fat. Urgh. On the outside, I figure it must be a joke, an attempt at being funny. They just didn’t realize what a loaded word fat is for me. I laugh it off, correct some grammar mistakes and make a joke about it. I know deep down that most jokes resemble some form of truth and on the inside my emotions resemble some kind of amusement park ride, beginning at shock then surging between anger, down to hurt and even lower to despair.
It’s not the first time someone else has openly criticized my body. Each incident, while stinging at the first impact, can usually be cooled off with some deep breaths, body work and a few self-loving affirmations. However, it does deepen the contempt I have for how women are viewed in society.
From being lectured by a professional exerciser and dieter for Women’s Health Week at CCNM (she was supposed to discuss body image and the media and instead focused on the existential importance of jumping on a trampoline and limiting grains to rid the body of that “unsightly” stomach pooch) to being the recipient of comments about people who eat healthy but don’t look it, it’s no small wonder that the word weight has set up permanent neural synapses in my brain and, most likely, the brain of every other woman who has ever lived in society. Why is it our job to please those around us by conforming to the correct societal ideal of the times? Is it not enough to be fit, happy and healthy?
So while I wait for the next person to deliver a blow to my apparently fragile ego by pretending they know something about me by judging by the size of my behind, I will be sitting in a cafe, philosophizing about body image and maybe, just maybe, feeling a little bit of extra sympathy for Rob Ford.
I have a confession to make. Sometimes when I see someone I know in a public place, usually at the end of a long day, I am often guilty of lowering my head and pretending I don’t notice them, regardless of how good a hair day I’ve been having.
Serenity, in New Age culture, usually depicts the complacent grin of someone who has risen “above it all”. Clad in white robes, with a wooden chain of prayer beads strung around the neck, this serene being does 10-day meditation retreats, feels at home in lotus pose and is most frequently removed from society.
I am decidedly an empiricist. No, this doesn’t mean that as a child I used to hover over ant hills with a magnifying glass, observing uncanny details about ant anatomy or looking at leaves under a microscope. Well, maybe like all children I did this, but that kind of thing doesn’t interest me anymore. Sadly…
As mentioned before, naturopaths are not necessarily defined by our toolbox of modalities. What, then, does define us as a profession? As we witness a rise in the demand for complementary and alternative medicine, and with it, the rise in something called the “Holistic Medical Doctor”, what sets naturopathic doctors apart?
I don’t know about you but the word “gratitude” carries a fair amount of guilt and resentment for me. Being citizens of privileged countries like Canada, we’re constantly told that we should be grateful, as in, “finish your food, there are starving children in Africa!”
This realization that we have certain things that others do not often results in guilty feelings about the facts of life that we’re not responsible for (directly) and cannot change. Gratitude, at least for me, has associated feelings of injustice and helplessness. It is almost as if that by admitting I am grateful for my food, my home, my family, my friends, etc., I am acknowledging the fact that I, more than anyone else, did not earn or deserve them and brings to light the possibility that these things can be taken from me.
When we talk about meditating on or cultivating a feeling of gratitude, the opposite is usually understood. We seek to cultivate gratitude precisely for the reason that we are, in fact, not grateful and are focusing on the negative aspects of our lives, the things we are not grateful for.
However, gratitude is not about guilt-trips or comparisons. It’s simply recognizing that we are all fortunate in our own way, helping us to see the full half of our glasses.
A classmate once showed a group of students and I a powerful and engaging visualization exercise based on recognizing the things to be grateful for in our lifes. I often struggle in meditation, especially the stricter Vipassana or Zen meditations, in which we are told to calm and focus the mind. It seems that more I try to focus the more I realize I am trying, pushing to make something happen and then the more I try not to try. And try not to try not to try. Until I get lost in a vast tangle of effort. (How can we exert the effort to find effortlessness?) I found with the gratitude meditation, however, my mind calmed, focused and participated in the meditation. My mind was free to conjure up images in a Freudian pattern of free association, and I simply had to acknowledge that I was, indeed, grateful for those things.
I started by sitting quietly and focusing on my breath, calming it, deepening it and quietening it. The first thought I began with was “I am grateful for my breath.” I began to feel a sensation of blissful relaxation as I reveled in the beauty, simplicity and luxury of my breath. Without trying to sound flakey, I found myself bask in the gratefulness for it. I moved on to other body sensations, gifts and functions – “I am grateful for my lungs, for my brown hair, for a body that can meditate and relax, for this cushion, for the way I can stretch, enjoy yoga, exercise and move outside.” I let my mind wander on to the next object, maintaining mindfulness by reminding myself to acknowledge the gratitude I felt towards these things: my home, my dog, my school, country, books, nature, loving family, the sun. Whatever came up, I recognized my gratitude for having it in my life.
The most therapeutic and eye-opening part of the meditation, however, was when my mind, as most minds do, began to wander to more negative aspects of my life, things that I wasn’t necessarilygrateful for – my exams, work, stress, anxiety, family problems, school problems, uncertainty, long distance relationship, lack of money, etc. I then realized how, despite what I originally thought, I was actually grateful for these things. Negative experiences supplied the yin to my yang, they helped to balance and shape who I am and without these perceptibly negative times, I wouldn’t have faced the challenges and character-building situations that have made me who I am and led me to where I am.
Once I got the grateful ball rolling, the possibilities were endless. After a few minutes, I ended the meditation and left with a clear sense of relaxation and satisfaction for all that I have, both positive and negative.
I’ve noticed that cultivating gratitude is an important ingredient in overcoming addictions and dealing with mental illness. In the AA meeting I recently attended, I noticed a running them of gratitude and the need to thank the Higher Power on a daily basis. I once read a saying, “Image if you woke up tomorrow with just the things you thanked God for today.” Whether you are comfortable with the G word or not, I think this idea opens our minds to the many riches we may not realize we have (not just the food on our table that we should eat because of the Africans who may not have it) but the totality of our life experience.
Are some physical ailments “all in our heads?” The mind is a powerful organ, capable of creating reality for us. In the world of health, the mind can be a powerful healing tool, or a powerful hindrance to true cure.
