More About Tango

I have been going to tango class twice a week. My teachers, Eileen and Kerry have traveled to meet with both Gammon Earhart and Madeline Hackney, researchers who have been experimenting with the effects of tango as therapy for PD. Eileen is even quitting her job to go full-time into tango therapy.

Today’s class was not a PD class; I am the only one in the class with a health issue. Lately, I’ve been feeling a decrease in the ability to move in the class and am starting to hesitate in going. I might feel differently if others there had my problem.

We were working on the Milonga today, a version of tango that has a certain beat -- bom ba bombom, bom ba bombom— that is like the Habanera in Carmen. The quick-quick step proved very difficult for me. Though I could feel the beat I could not get my feet to do what I wanted. I kept stopping in frustration and was on the point of tears.

Everyone was kind. Each of the three men invited me to keep trying. Jaime told me I did very well (liar), and Shelly made me laugh which helped me relax and do better. After a few minutes of Argentine tango with Norwid I was doing better still. His body is very relaxed and now he is used to my stumbles and hesitations and waits calmly for me to regain my balance. It is amazing to me how at times, I seem to be gliding effortlessly across the floor when I dance with Norwid, who is an experienced dancer.

So with their support and the positive energy of the other women there, I left the class feeling cheerful and looking forward to the next class, though I hope we don’t do the Milonga.

Jin Shin Jyutsu

 

One of my tango teachers, Kerry, is a holistic healer. One treatment she offers is Jin Shin Jyutsu, a type of energy medicine. For about 6 months I was treated by a practitioner of the Donna Eden approach to energy medicine and performed daily exercises longer than that. Qi Gong, which I practice now, is a system of exercises intended to strengthen energy. The PD Recovery team also recognizes energy flow as a component of treatment. I was curious how Jin Shin Jyutsu compares to these other three practices. This month I went for three different hour-long treatments at Kerry’s home.

            At each treatment I lie on a table fully clothed with pillows for my head and knees. Kerry places the tips of her fingers very gently on different points on my body. Sometimes she consults a book during the session. Occasionally, she comments on impressions she receives. During the second session she commented that she sensed a giant awaking inside me.

Today, she began by first putting one hand on the inside of my left ankle while her other hand touched a point on my right hip. She told me that this was the “Skeptic’s” or “Doubting Thomas” hold. When I asked why it was called this she said that it was a very powerful hold and that people who doubted that Jin Shin Jyutsu worked were often converted after experiencing a dramatic shift.

I said I would welcome a shift.

            It just so happened that the two points she was holding were in two areas that were giving me pain lately. After some time holding these points she moved to my left foot and used both hands there. I felt a lot of sensation including a surging kind of feeling, throbbing, and intermittent pain as she touched different points on my foot. She too could feel a lot of movement inside my foot.

            Most of the time, the treatment was gentle and relaxing.

            Unfortunately though, there was no dramatic shift. I went from the treatment to tango class, and amazing to myself, but as usual, I was able to dance, even though I had been struggling to walk earlier in the day.

What a strange enigma.

Honoring the Ancestors

 

On the antique dresser that I so laboriously refinished last summer, breaking a toe in the process, is an assortment of framed photographs. These photos with a large ball candle inherited from my grandma, four clear glass swans passed on to me from my mother and a strand of prayer beads constitute my ancestor altar. There are pictures of those who have passed, grandparents, great grandparents, aunts, uncles, including my brother and son.

            Each evening before I go to bed, I light the candle while I try to meditate and pray.

            The Buddhists and others around the world have such altars. As I have tried to reach out spiritually to my son and my brother, I have also begun to remember others in my family more frequently. In a crisis that occurred in my household recently, I found myself calling out in desperation to my ancestors for help. When all turned out well, I thanked them. Now, I have a more formal place to remember them. I do feel supported when I think of those who have lived before me, and whose lives so directly connect to mine.

            … In the beginning of the year and when it ends,

                        we remember them.

            When we are weary and in need of strength,

                        we remember them.

            When we are lost and sick at heart,

                        we remember them.

            When we have joys we yearn to share,

                        we remember them.

            So long as we live, they too shall live,

                        for they are now a part of us, as

                        we remember them.

From a Jewish prayer, in Life Prayers From Around the World; 365 Prayers, Blessings, and Affirmations to Celebrate the Human Journey, Elizabeth Roberts & Elias Amidon

Doing Vs. Being

November has been a change from the previous two months. In the first week of the month my mother visited causing a change of routine. The emphasis was on being with my mother whom I hadn’t seen in over a year.

            After she left, I began spending time being in the clay studio. I’d woken up a few times in the night thinking about clay. Although I had been giving clay lessons to three children this fall I hadn’t created anything myself since the summer.

So for the next two weeks of the month I spent a few hours each day in the studio. I didn’t produce much. I tried some new things that flopped, and as with everything else, I move slowly. Nevertheless, it was satisfying to be in the little studio. I listen to music and look through the double doors at the squirrels in the fall garden, and encourage my right hand to work along with my left. I like when it grows dark outside and I am in the brightly lit studio with a work in progress. It’s very cozy as the days grow short.

Being in the clay studio means sacrificing something else, so for three weeks I have not been to the gym. I exercise each morning with Qi Gong or yoga. I meditate, and do Dr. K’s eye and finger exercises.  With that and the puppy and cleaning up the kitchen, most of the morning is gone.

So occasionally, or more than occasionally, I have an inkling of guilt – that I’m not doing enough or not doing it well enough to get healthy.

I wondered today, what should I be doing? What are the most important things I can do to make myself well? And believe me, I have a great sack of things I could be doing, information gathered from all quarters. What came to me as I was pondering these questions was that it is not so important what I am doing, but it is more important what I am being.

So: being with my mother, being in the clay studio, being in my body, being in the place and the moment where I am. That is what I think is important. That is a goal. And how to achieve it? If I can tune into my heart it will lead the way.

Connecting to Nature

            In the recent documentary film “The Horse Boy,” the parents of an autistic boy bring him from their home in Texas to Mongolia. The boy connects to animals in a special way. They hope the nomadic shamans will be able to help their son. A gathering of shamans who undertake a healing all agree, the spirit of a woman on the mother’s side is clinging to the boy and harming him. After a long journey on horseback they meet a shaman of the reindeer people who may be the healer they seek. I won’t give away the ending.

            I have not yet carried out all the instructions given to me by Beatrice, the shaman, indeed very few. Lately, my family has required much of my time. But I have tried to connect with nature. This is a pleasure because of the extended and colorful autumn we are having this year.

            Today I rode my bike to Quaker meeting partly through the woods that adjoin the property. I don’t ride very fast, a runner on foot passed me, but I can do it. Yellow and red leaves were glowing in the morning sun. On one stretch, there were enormous tulip poplars by the trail.

On the way home I stopped by one of the giants and maneuvered myself as close as I could and put my arms around the trunk. Beatrice told me I could benefit from the strength of trees. It was a nice feeling. I have hugged some trees in my garden, but they’re not very big ones. I admit it -- I even kiss them. That was my idea. It’s hard to resist if you’re hugging anyway.

Of course I don’t do this when anyone’s looking, though I really don’t know what I should be ashamed of. To be called a tree hugger? Well I am, most literally.

About Insight

Gaining insights about my life, my family, and myself has been a welcome result of my inner work recently.

I subscribe to the Heartmath Institute’s newsletter. The Institute studies the human heart’s role beyond that of a simple blood circulation pump. It has found that being in attunement to one’s heart waves or “coherence” is the way to achieve a state of ease. The latest email newsletter from the Heartmath Institute was about insight.

If you have an insight about your life they recommend you first appreciate the insight, then appreciate the positive feelings associated with the insight. Next, they suggest you write down and periodically check back on the insight. Finally, you act and make changes in your life influenced by the insight.

This all makes sense, but making a change, as I’ve found, is very difficult to do. Receiving frequent gentle advice from many sources as frequently as possible helps me keep trying.

www.heartmath.org

Second Thoughts

I hesitated before I posted the last entry about my brother. I felt some fear and regret in allowing these thoughts out into the world, and also I think, some guilt. And it wasn’t just that I didn’t want the world to know I harbored bad feelings for my brother.

Today I had the thought that, “you and me brother, we are the same.”

            What he learned, I learned. What he did, I do. How in my life do I manifest the traits that I found regrettable in him? When am I negative towards others? What about negativity towards myself?

Negativity is part of my inheritance and it is a big part of what I need to work on in myself. Louise Hay suggests looking in the mirror frequently and saying, “I love you.” But more than that, I need to practice loving and showing love for my family by saying POSITIVE things and thinking POSITIVE thoughts about them.

Talking to My Brother

My brother Esa died when he was 23 years old in a motorcycle accident. That was a long time ago, but in the past two days I have been “talking” with him, trying to understand our relationship and what his early death meant for me.

            He was two years older than me and I understood that he was superior to me in every way. Of course he was superior to me in strength, speed and in other physical ways, but he always won every game of Monopoly, Stratego or any game we ever played. My father commented recently that Esa got better report cards than I did, which offended me, but it’s probably true. He was handsome, and early on I think most people thought he was the best looking of the family.

            When he died, I found myself looking back and having difficulty finding many good memories of him. Instead I remembered all the times he mocked, teased or insulted me, calling me ugly, fat or slow, and in many ways being unkind. We didn’t talk to each other except in this kind of banter, which was sometimes humorous, but never nice. If he had friends around he looked at me scornfully and wouldn’t let me near them. When people die, especially young people who die tragically, no one criticizes them. How was I publicly to deal with my brother’s death? What I did was say nothing.

            So, now I have a disease, one that I believe has a psychological source. I wonder how 21 years worth of ridicule, of my body especially, might have affected me? In my meditation practice, which is also prayer and contemplation, I have talked to Esa about this issue. I tell him it’s not his fault, and that I forgive him. And I have asked him for help, because I think he can help me, and because I think he would want to. Sadly for him and for me, he died before he had a chance to be a better person to me, his little sister.           

Training for the Circus

I’ve been falling more than usual and I’m carrying the bruises to prove it.

            In August my big toe caught on the edge of a rug, resulting in a sprained toe and other wrenched and bruised body parts. Did I stop stripping the bureau I was working on? No. Typical PD personality, I kept at it and only later noticed my toe was swollen and black and blue. It’s still bothering me.

            On my birthday, after brandy (bad idea), I fell twice on the way to bed. No serious damage, so I imagine the alcohol helped me fall softly.

            Heading towards the receptionist in Dr. K’s office last week, I hurtled down the hall and fell flat on my stomach in the waiting room. There were cries and gasps from all around, but I was basically all right except for a skinned palm.

            And finally, last night carrying beer to put in the fridge, I miscalculated the step up to the kitchen and came crashing down on my shins. The beer bottles were not broken, nor was I. But when I later looked at the damage there was a goose egg below my left knee. Both shins are getting a thrice-daily treatment with arnica ointment to ease the pain and hopefully avoid a dramatic color show.

            This is quite a concern and a strong case for giving in and taking the meds. What can I do? I need to have some kind of support at all times I guess. I’ve taken to using a walking stick as the most helpful option that I’ve tried. I’m not inclined to do 100% wheelchair and I hope never have to.

            I just keep repeating, “I have the power to heal myself.”

Blog Problems!

I'm enjoying writing a blog, but am having problems with it. I haven't been able to post comments to anyone - I've tried. So that's why you don't hear from me fellow bloggers. Also, followers are not showing up on the page, and I know because they've told me. Help forum has yet to be enlightening. I can still write posts though, so I'll continue.

The Journey

Beatrice was given the name, Allowing the Light because of her “deep connection to The Light as the main source to facilitate healing and transformation.” Before she described her journey to me, she explained that what she saw was symbolic and that it might take some time before I would understand what the symbols meant. What follows is a brief description of her journey.

* * *

            She saw me confined in a tight box underground or underwater. “Like the womb?” I asked. “No, because it’s not comfortable.”

I’m not moving so they (Beatrice and the Light) start to pour light over me. Gradually I look up and move a little and they help me out of the box.

Beatrice asks what is needed to heal me and she sees that big shocks, including the accidental deaths of my son and brother, have taken part of my vital energy. She calls my son and then my brother and they bring energy back to me. My son George also uses a glass ball with rainbow colors to rub on my body to help heal it. He says he will do this everyday. They give me a bath with carnations. They decide I should see a nutritionist for help with my diet.

Next they take me to a natural place where I transform into a big bird, but my body cannot yet fly though my essence can. They show me how to get support from the earth. Finally Beatrice sees me standing wearing a long dress and looking healthy, still with my wings.

She calls Henry, but she can see “his struggle and reserve.” She performs a ritual to connect us and pours light on our household.

 Beatrice wrote down exercises for grounding, centering and to connect with nature and the earth. She described the South American carnation bathing ritual so I could do that as well. She recommended getting advice for using essential oils.

When we talked she suggested I converse with George daily, that if we still maintained a relationship it would help others in my family, too.

When I came home I drew myself in the box, the first real drawing I have done in a long time.

The Shaman

I have just returned from my third visit to the town of Bath. I went to soak in the natural warm springs and get a massage along with two of my friends from high school. But this time, while browsing on the Internet to book appointments at one of the spas, I learned about Beatrice, a shamanic healer. I was intrigued. My knowledge of shamanism was limited to reading Carlos Castaneda years ago, but the books have lingered in my imagination. So I made the appointment for a two-hour healing session with Beatrice.

            We first sat across from each other at a little table and she asked me questions: why I was there, about my illness, what events preceded my becoming ill, and what persons, living or dead, did she have my mandate “to call” for assistance in helping me heal. I gave her permission to call my deceased son and brother and my living husband. Then the ritual began.

            Standing in the center of a white rug, she lit candles and a smudge stick and waved the smoke on me with a large black feather. Then I lay on the rug and she asked me to smell different essential oils. She dabbed two of my favorites on my neck. Covered with a blanket, wearing an eye mask, and headphones to eliminate distractions, I was instructed to focus on my breath and relax my body. She lay down beside me to take a shamanic journey seeking answers and instructions.

            Beatrice started a recording of drumming for me to listen to, but I could still hear her take perhaps six very powerful breaths before she became quiet and still. After a long period of steady drumming the music increased in tempo, then stopped. Beatrice rose and told me she was going to blow energy into my body. She put her mouth and cupped hands on my belly, then heart, then the top of my head and blew. She told me to stay lying down and continue to relax. She was going to write down what she saw.

            When she was done writing she began to do bodywork on me. While she worked she asked if I liked to eat and if I ate well. She suggested I see a nutritionist because she thought there might be a problem in that area. She also suggested I might benefit from cranio-sacral therapy because I seemed to need more “space” in my body.

            At last we returned to the little table to go over her notes. She promised to email them to me so I needn’t worry about remembering it all. When I receive them I will share them in a post. There is too much to recall, and I want to be accurate. I will say now that it was an intense, personal experience.

           

           

Gifts Out of Nowhere

Last summer when I was in Santa Cruz for therapy, Henry pushed me in the wheelchair to a downtown bookstore and parked me in the art section. The first book I pulled off the shelf was about Swoon, a street artist. I opened it and found tucked inside a black and white drawing of a dandelion in a state of artistic transformation. On the back was this handwritten message:

KEEP THIS…

YOU HAVE FOUND ONE OF MANY DRAWINGS I HAVE MADE AND LEFT OUT IN THE WORLD. BY FINDING THIS IT WAS MEANT TO BE YOURS, THE UNIVERSE CONSPIRED TO BRING YOU TO THIS PLACE. AND THE DRAWING TO YOU.

            I did keep it. I have yet to communicate with S. Zontos, the artist who signed the drawing, but it pleased me to receive this special gift that day. My friend and fellow PDer wrote about a similar experience. I found it so profound I asked him if I could post it here:

           

           Early Friday morning, walking through my neighborhood, admiring the trees and flowers, I noticed a tiny leaf with a long stem, suspended in midair, swaying back and forth. It must have been hooked on a spider’s web strand - but no matter how closely I looked I could not see it.
           Heartened by this beauty and delicacy, I turned to continue my walk – only to see, right there, a post with a few poems neatly tacked to it. The one at eye level with the delicate leaf - only a pirouette away - was Mary Oliver’s, Wild Geese.
           This is what Mary said to me that morning:

                                                Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting, over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

From Dream Work by Mary Oliver published by Atlantic Monthly Press ©Mary Oliver

           

           

A Puppy

My son Julian turned 16 last Thursday and after weeks of Henry’s cajoling I consented and we got a puppy. Molly, a Boston Terrier, was 8 weeks old. Her breeder gave us a can of puppy food and we picked up a toy, a collar and some baby cereal on the way home. That was our total preparation.

            I woke up that night and couldn’t get back to sleep because I was worrying about the puppy. How was I going to manage?

It was already clear that I was going to be dealing with a lot of her care such as the frequent piddle that kept appearing around the house.  Over the next few days, no one had any plan to housebreak her, nor did I hear a word about taking her to a vet. The old dog continued to be neurotically afraid of the puppy. Everyone was busy and leaving me home alone.  And though the puppy was sweet, I was fretful and depressed. I can barely walk, and every step is a chore. How was I to deal with an active puppy?

But today, Monday, I got up first, fed Molly and then took her out in the still dark yard to begin housebreaking her. I kept taking her out and playing with her all day. I realized at one point that I just need to give in. Forget being anxious or resentful. Right now this little dog’s life is a priority in my life just because she’s here. Didn’t I let her in?

And I thought, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe I have something to learn from this animal. I hope so, because as my friend Janet said to explain why we both still have PD, “We have more to learn.”

Brain Stimulation

Another visit to Dr. K and two more exercises and these are for my eyes. I have to paint a strip of cloth with blocks of red or orange and white. Henry is to pass it quickly by my eyes while I look at each of the colored blocks. In another exercise, I move my head while looking at a spot on the wall. I can’t remember how these are going to help me. Not that he didn’t try to explain.

Dr. K explains quite a bit -- about the brain, neurons, proteins, the optic nerve, etc., most of which I partially understand at the time then rapidly forget. The main gist of today’s lesson was that we are stimulating the cells of the brain that cause motor movement and creating more connections between the cells.           

            The originator of Dr. K’s theories is a Dr. Carrick*. I may try to look him up to read something and learn more.  I think this work is compatible with the other work I am doing. He agrees with J.J. that the causes of PD are electrical, not chemical. And though my understanding is poor, I have a sense that there is good sound theory in his approach.

            Finding time for the exercises will be challenging.

 

* Ted Carrick, DC, PhD, is the Distinguished PostGraduate Professor of Clinical Neurology at Logan College of Chiropractic, near St. Louis, MO. He is the author of Neurophysiological Implications in Learning, and for 21 years he has had a specialty practice limited to the diagnosis and treatment of neurological disorders. Dr. Carrick is an active brain researcher, teacher and clinician who attends patients throughout the world. From website: www.carrickinstitute.org           

A Chiropractor

I have new exercises to do recommended by my new specialist, Dr. K. My neighbor recommended him. Dr. K is a chiropractor that studied neurology for two years which I suppose gives him some expertise beyond the average chiropractor. He performed various tests to determine which parts of my brain are causing my movement disorder -- is it really Parkinson’s, he wondered, and what is Parkinson’s, because no two people diagnosed with PD have the same symptoms. He didn’t claim to understand it. Apparently he is not on board with the it’s-all-about-the-dopamine theory. He seemed to respect my aversion to medication and had other treatments to offer. 

             He gave me three exercises to begin. 1. Walk in the pool everyday. 2. Put red tape down in parallel lines two feet apart and practice walking over them to regulate my steps. 3. This exercise for my right hand:

1.     spread the fingers out wide

2.    bend one finger down to touch the palm to the count of 10

3.    curl the finger “like a shrimp”

4.    keep the fingers spread, bring the finger back up counting to ten

5.     repeat with each finger

6.    perform 5X day

These exercises all make sense to me so I will add them to my repertoire. Will I have time for anything else?

HA HA HA

Last night I tried Laughter Yoga. It’s grown from a small group in Mumbai to thousands of groups around the world. Since laughter releases dopamine and has other positive effects, I thought I should give it a try.  Three teachers took turns presenting situations: you’re late for your flight and running through the airport pulling your suitcase and LAUGHING! You’re starting up the lawnmower (vroom vroom) and mowing the lawn and LAUGHING!  We’re all in a crowded elevator and… you get the idea.

We were to act out these scenarios and make eye contact as we did them, no talking only laughing. The idea was that though we might be faking the laughter at first, by making eye contact we’d eventually be laughing for real. We ended with 5 minutes of laughter meditation – just laughing, eye contact again – and finally silent relaxation.

For me it was all rather embarrassing. I felt like a jackass with my maniacal laughter. Perhaps it’s beneficial, but I won’t be going again. I may do the homework though: 5 minutes of laughing a day. Maybe a good thing to do in the car.

Feldenkrais

            Feldenkrais class is pleasant, quiet, and seems to me to be potentially helpful. We lie on large, foam mats and are guided to make small repetitive movements. In one class we focused on our shoulders and neck only, but today we used a wider range from hands to feet. I don’t know much about it so I did a search. Here is what I read on the Feldenkrais website:

The Feldenkrais Method is for anyone who wants to reconnect with their natural abilities to move, think and feel…these gentle lessons can improve your overall well-being.

Learning to move with less effort makes daily life easier. Because the Feldenkrais Method focuses on the relationship between movement and thought, increased mental awareness and creativity accompany physical improvements.

There are so many types of bodywork in our world today and I’m lucky to live where they are available. Maybe I do too many different things, maybe I should focus on one modality, but since I have a leave of absence from work, I have a chance to try many things, and I think that’s good.

http://www.feldenkrais.com/ 

An Inspiration

Thank you Howard! I’ve been reading his blog, “Fighting Parkinson’s Drug Free,” which shares how he successfully recovered from severe PD, or as he puts it, became “symptom free.” Reading his blog gives me hope and confidence that I am on the right track in not taking drugs. The methods of treatment he used are similar to my own, including FSR and heart exercises that he read about in J.J.’s book.

What astounded me was the rapidity of his recovery. I can’t help but wonder what I might not be doing or what I might be doing wrong that I am still so stuck. It’s been 3 months since I first met J.J. After all, I traveled across the country and spent 2 weeks with her and the other PD team members. Howard does a few days of FSR at home and starts recovery. However, I’m just curious as to why we’re different, not too troubled. As I said, Howard gives me hope.

            I decided to do some Qi Gong exercises this morning. I had learned the Eight Pieces of Brocade from a DVD by Dr. Yang, Jwing-Ming, but hadn’t done them in awhile. The exercises are meant to get the energy moving in the body, and each exercise in the Eight Pieces of Brocade works on different major organs. Doing six repetitions of each exercise took about a half hour. I spent another half hour in meditation. I read from Myss, Hay, and Suzuki’s Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind. I took my supplements. I drank my special drink. I’ve been GOOD; I’m ready to be well.

            But I’ll be patient. I am seeing more each day how much I have to learn. And that takes time.

The Reason

“People often wonder why their spiritual lives began with an illness or a life trauma; illnesses and life crises are often the ways the soul finally gets through to you to take charge of your life.”

Caroline Myss from Entering the Castle

            My soul has been batting me over the head for some time if what Myss says is true. I have had life crises. Isn’t there a word, “soul-shattering?” I have had crises like that. At each crisis there was an opportunity to draw on the best in myself. I could have changed my life each time, but I don’t think I did. The crisis I have now, my illness, is getting even more personal. It’s not a loved ones death or a shattered relationship, but my own body and its mind, heart and soul that is threatened.

            I find this idea of the soul trying to “get through” inspiring. If everything happens for a reason, then this disease has a reason, and it could in fact be for a good reason.  What if I change my life, what if I find my better self because of it? If I accept the purpose of the disease and fulfill it, might I not lose the need for the disease?            

From the Sublime to the Mundane

I took my time this morning with meditation, prayer in my usual bamboo chair. The chair faces the attached greenhouse where there are now plants brought in from summering outside. I divided and repotted some of them and all got spruced up and topped off with new soil. So I spent some time sitting and admiring the plants in between trying to remember to meditate.

            Then, I read from the beginning of Louise Hay’s, You Can Heal Your Life, reading some of it out loud to myself. I’d read it before about a year ago, but I thought I might read it again and actually do the exercises.

            Lastly, I sat outside, still in my bathrobe, and looked at the garden, and felt very moved by the golden light on the tops of the trees as the sun rose higher. I felt gratitude for having such a beautiful place to be.

            Unfortunately, this enlightened beginning was completely forgotten  (until now) by the hours I spent completing forms on-line for Social Security Disability Insurance. They asked for more information than I expected, e.g. dates and salaries of my last 5 jobs. This caused a form to be lost when I exceeded the 30-minute time allowance for the page while searching for old pay stubs.

            I was flummoxed by the arrangement of YES and NO bubbles. A question on the form looks like this:

-O Have you been prescribed any medication by this doctor? YES NO –O

I actually called SS to make sure I was checking the right bubble (the first bubble at the beginning is for YES).

            Tired, crotchety afterwards, I let Henry perform his magic with frozen foods while I drank a beer. Can I resume the morning’s serenity? I could go look at the moon…

FSR Therapy

Every week I see Sharon for FSR (Forceless Spontaneous Release). She places her hands on either side of a part of my body—usually my right foot or ankle, and holds it gently but firmly until she feels a release of energy in that part of the body. Then she moves her hands to another area. She sometimes holds the same area for most of the hour-long session. Fortunately, she is calm and patient. We usually talk, and I have opened up to her with some very personal stuff.

Sharon is a massage therapist who specializes in Shiatsu. She learned FSR by my request from J.J.’s (Janice Walton-Hadlock) book downloaded from the PD Recovery website.

            According to J.J:

The original cause of Parkinson’s is two-fold. The one of the causes is a perfectly normal foot injury. The second part is dissociation from pain to the extent that the injury cannot heal. This combination leads to permanence of a perfectly logical variation on the normal [energy] channel pattern – a variation that is only supposed to be activated for a short time. This variation should only preside until the injury heals enough for normal Qi flow to resume. In Parkinson’s, the injury never heals because of dissociation.

            The technique of FSR is supposed to heal the old injury and allow the flow of Qi to be corrected. After that there is more work to do, but that is the beginning. The issues that caused there to be dissociation need to be addressed for a complete recovery. J.J. and her PD Team have seen many recoveries since they began their work. I hope I will be one of them.

The Battle With Time

Although I am not working at a job now, I am nevertheless feeling that I don’t have enough time. The sun is reaching the western horizon and I am crying, “Where has the day gone?” and looking back to see what I’ve accomplished. Usually it is not very much, but it is something. I can’t say I’ve been squandering my precious time.

            The fact is I’m slow. I can tell by looking at others, like my husband Henry. If I ask him to do something for me, maybe chop some vegetables, he seems to zip through the task with amazing speed. I never noticed that before. I plod through the identical task taking three times as long. Was I once speedy like him? I was.

            I’ve been working at not being at odds with time. Not to feel like there must be a lot of crossings off on my to-do list everyday. To know that there are priorities and most other tasks are of negligible importance.

            I’ve tried remembering that time is a human creation, that God and the soul are timeless. If I ponder that I start to drop my antagonism towards time. I would rather work to be really present in the moment, really appreciating my life, and then time would have no significance. 

A Visit to Dr. V

I went to Dr. V to get some medical forms filled out and to get a prescription. I am applying for social security disability insurance because I have taken a leave of absence from work. It’s the first September in 9 years I have not been teaching. I had no intention of taking the medication, but it might be helpful to have a prescription to fill in the blank in the application. I’ve been told it can be difficult to get SSDI with a diagnosis of PD.

            Dr. V was more cheerful with me now that I seemed more willing to take drugs. Last time he was quite disgruntled when he learned I was seeking alternative therapy in California. He confidently prescribed Mirapex and when I asked him what the side effects were he said perhaps some mild abdominal discomfort. I would start on a low dose for 2 weeks then call him to tell him how I was doing. He said he had prescribed it hundreds of times and said with a twinkle, I was going to be a lot better. He gave me 2 boxes of pills.

            Despite my intentions when I went in, I felt seriously torn when I walked out. It was so tempting to think that I might possibly be moving and doing things normally if I took this drug. As I drove home I was on the edge of tears, my state of mind confused. I was completely unsure of what was best. I asked for guidance from my own heart and gradually I calmed down.

When I got home I meditated, trying to clear my mind in order to better receive guidance from within myself or from higher powers. My original intentions for my treatment came back to me: I am healing myself, I am not using drugs, and I intend to be cured.

Then I went to the Internet and looked up Mirapex. The side effects I found were a lot more serious than Dr. V described. One person described it as an “insane asylum drug.” Some people described ruined marriages and ruined lives, mostly from a variety of obsessive-compulsive behaviors caused by the drug. Yes, some people said Mirapex helped them. Perhaps it could help me. But any drug that has the potential to mess with my brain that much seems like not such a good idea.

I feel good, I lead a full life, I’m happy. I don’t want to risk losing that.

Quaker Meeting

Attended Quaker meeting today. The pre-revolutionary meetinghouse is a one-room, stone building. During the summer, the doors on two sides are left open for breezes and birdsong. Once a dog wandered through. I first attended a couple of times last summer and have been going regularly since this July. It is a silent meeting, that is we sit together in silence unless someone is moved to speak. Sometimes one or more will, sometimes not.

            I keep hearing and reading about the value of meditation and prayer. My first interest was the value of meditation and prayer in healing myself. But the practice has become more than that for me.

            My homework has been 15 minutes of meditation twice a day, given to me by Rebecca of the PD Recovery Team in Santa Cruz. She gave me specific mental and breathing exercises, and the Serenity Prayer. Lately, I have added prayers of my own.

I find it is easier to pray than meditate. I recently read Breath Sweeps Mind, a collection of Buddhists essays about meditation. When I try some of the exercises in the book, I struggle to maintain a clear and focused mind. Some days, my attention seems like that of a 3-year-old child. But some days, I get a taste of what focus can be, and I like it. With prayer, I am allowed to create thoughts and at the same time I feel my thoughts.

There is time to do both in the one-hour meeting. 

Spirulina & Tango

I started the vitamin/supplement regimen today. Unfortunately, the spirulina and bee pollen don’t mix very well in the juice. The fine, velvety spirulina clings to the spoon and glass and turns the juice a deep blue green. The golden yellow nuggets of the bee pollen either float or sink, and don’t dissolve, only soften. It’s drinkable, tastes fine, but I can imagine it being more palatable in a smoothie.

            I started a second session of tango lessons today. Kerry and Elaine are my teachers. They have taken an interest in tango as a therapy for PD since they met me. They are traveling to St. Louis next week to meet with a researcher on this topic. Perhaps they will start a class especially for PDers when they feel ready. Luba and Norwig were the other pupils today. We practiced the box step and cross step singly and with a partner.

It surprises me that I can dance tango passably well, but can barely walk without stumbling. This proves the point that PD has a psychological component. It is not merely a lack of dopamine in the brain. There is certainly more to it than that.

Exercise & Supplements

It’s been about three years since I was diagnosed with PD and for the past year and a half it has been severe. I have barely any visible tremor, but I walk with great difficulty and have trouble using my right hand and the entire right side of my body. I use a wheelchair if I need to walk any distance and do a lot of things with my left hand that I used to do with my right. Driving a car is a problem because my right foot is slow and unresponsive. When I want to take a step or move my right foot it often gets “stuck” and doesn’t seem to want to move.

            I have been trying different approaches in an effort to improve my well-being and even heal myself without using drugs. From my research, I believe that PD can be cured although the neurologist who diagnosed me says there is no cure, and the only treatment a cornucopia of powerful brain drugs to ease symptoms. He does encourage exercise however.

            I agree about the exercise. Now I do a few stretching exercises every morning and take a yoga class about three times a week. I have been using a rowing machine, but that has not been going well lately. I seem to lose momentum on the forward part of the stroke. My waist is slow to bend and my arms seem to falter. I took a Feldenkrais class and a Gentle Pilates class this week too.

            Today my yoga teacher, Donna gave me a book, Entering the Castle, by Caroline Myss. Myss could be described as a healer and a mystic. Donna recommended I see her in person at a lecture or workshop, and if I could see her privately, she would probably be able to “see” what caused me to have this disease and give me help in its cure.

            I am increasing the dietary supplements I am taking after reading what Walter Last recommends for PD. Now I will be taking:

breakfast: Solgar Women’s Multi-Vitamin, 400 mg vit. E, 500, vit. C, 99 mg. potassium (for muscle cramps), ginkgo biloba (for energy), bee pollen and spirulina mixed in juice

lunch: vit. C, E, ginkgo biloba

dinner: vit. C, E, Calm (magnesium + calcium)

before breakfast & dinner: L-tyrosine (an amino acid that is a building block for dopamine)

Add to every meal: Udo’s Oil  (omega fatty acids)

My diet has been mostly vegetarian since the beginning of summer. I’m trying to cut back on sugar. I’m going back to coffee as of today as per Walter Last. This is in opposition to Jozef, the intuitive healer who gave me a diet to follow last summer.