On Fear and Freedom

The first necessity for freedom is that there should be no fear--not only the fear imposed by society but also the psychological fear of insecurity. If there is ambition, if there is the struggle to be somebody, does that not entail fear? And does that not imply that he who is very successful is not truly free? So fear imposed by tradition, by the so-called responsibility of the edicts of society, or your own fear of death, of insecurity, of disease--all this prevents the true freedom of being, does it not? Freedom is not possible if there is any form of outward or inward compulsion which comes into being when there is the urge to conform to the pattern of society, or the pattern that you have created for yourself, as being good or not good. As long as the mind is seeking any form of security--and that is what most of us want--as long as the mind is seeking permanency in any form, there can be no freedom.
--J Krishnamurti, Poona 1953.

I heard it recently said that the motivating factor behind legalism is fear not love. Are we not asked to fear God? Or does that mean respect God? I find love to be more motivating than fear. Sure, fear works to motivate too but which should be fueling us? Is it wrong to use fear? Sometimes fear works better than love (e.g. children doing chores). There is also the reward system. Do you do things because you are free to do them, because you love doing them, because of the consequences if you don't, or because of what you will get out of it? What motivates you and do you feel free?

I now pronounce you...

My mom always says to me,
"When I was young, we didn't have books and conversations about marriage
the way your generation does."

analyze analyze analyze...

What are you looking for in a marriage partner?
Or
What were you looking for if you are already married?

These are frequent bits of advice I hear...

Marry your best friend.
Commitment is the key.
You have to "like" the person, not just love them.
There must be physical chemistry.
You should have the same values and beliefs.
Know each others' love languages.
Find someone with similar dreams.
Date for at least two years.
It doesn't matter how long you date.
You will just "know."
Arranged marriages often last longer than chosen ones.
Marry someone you can "play" with.
Find someone that will support you no matter what.
Marry up.
Consider their family...because you "marry" them too.
Is their personality type compatible with yours?
Don't get married. It's too much work.
Get married! It's awesome!


What picture is painted in your head of marriage?
A partnership
Best friends
A business deal
King and servant
Queen and waterboy
Debate team
Two random people sharing a house
Lovers
Adventurers
Givers
Takers
Teammates
???

Perfect Partner

Ahh Friday! I breathed in the warm evening air as I stepped out of my car and was greeted by my housemate, Felicia in the driveway. It had been a long day at work and my running shoes were calling my name. Within five minutes, Felicia and I were in our work-out clothes and pounding the pavement. Thought-provoking conversation is never lacking with us. The sun had gone behind our hill but we we could see it flooding the hill across the valley. We chased it till we had conquered the small mountain overlooking our town. The sky was warm with color and Sabbath was upon us. Near the house we discussed the perfect dinner for that evening and decided on a gourmet salad and smoothies. Making a quick dash to the store together, we were soon home in the kitchen. I fixed the meal while Felicia cleaned up the kitchen and lit candles for our dinner. After we ate, we moved the candles upstairs to the big spa tub and threw on swimsuits for a long soak. We took turns reading some of The Last Battle from the Chronicle of Narnia and played with little bath beads. As I sat there reflecting on the night I burst into laughter. What a perfect way to bring in the Sabbath...If you are married!!! ...I guess for now though, Felicia is perfect company for Friday evenings. :)

3:30 today

About a year ago I took a nap at 3pm and set my watch to wake me up at 3:30. For some reason I never changed it... So every day at the same time, my watch reminds me it's still working and that moment gets burned in my memory.

I decided to keep track of those 3:30 moments last week.

Friday- Suturing a skin graft into an old man's face where we cut out some cancer. He is paralyzed on his right side because 23 years ago he was walking out of a theater in Baltimore where a lady dropped her purse and a loaded gun inside of it went off and shot him in the head. The bullet is still in his skull and the woman was only fined $125.

Sabbath- Throwing a football with Larissa in the park surrounded by orange groves, the smell of citrus wafting in the air. The sun is shining, her dog Mosey is barking at a squirrel, and life feels sweet.

Sunday- Just hopped on a cruiser bike along side 8 friends for a ride down the boardwalk at Mission bay. It's crowded but the ocean and sunshine make up for it and dodging people becomes like a game.

Monday- In the derm clinic cutting off 13 moles from a woman's left leg. This lady is covered in moles but has a very beautiful face. She looks young for her age (29). I was surprised when she said she's been married 11 years... and inspired when she admitted she still gets excited to see her husband at the end of each day. I hope my marriage is like that.

Tuesday- I'm standing in a closet...hiding myself. I just walked in on the doctor and his mail-order bride from Russia at a very awkward moment.

Wednesday- Standing in room with 3 elementary-age kids and their mother. The boy is being treated for warts on his fingers. His sisters are decked out in everything green. They are the only people I've seen today that remembered St. Patrick's day.

Thursday- Talking to a beautiful 35 yo woman who is about to pay $600 for Botox injections. She is doing it secretly behind her husband's back but then makes the comment, "He probably won't even notice."

Possibilities

Somehow I ended up with 5 days off in a row.
My initial thought was, "I'll fly home to Oregon and surprise the fam."
This idea was dashed when I realized I am a student with no income.
So the next best thing is free...
Here is the list of things I plan on doing during my mini vacation:

Clean the whole house for the roommates
Sleep under the stars in my backyard
Paint
Go to the ocean and breathe the sea air
Frame a painting my sister made me
Make 2 new journals
Read
Set up my slackline in the park and welcome onlooking children to try it
Go to church
Send homemade cards to loved ones
Cook something new
Work on my portfolio
Study...a little
Spend quality time in the hot tub with my housemates
Take Larissa's dog for a run
Mail Ansley's Christmas present...finally
Paint a landscape from my New Zealand trip
Have a long conversation with God
Get my haircut
Dance

Letting it go

"You're still holding my favorite balloon" she whispered.
"I was just borrowing it" he replied.
"I know" she said, "You can keep it if you want."
He looked at her with kind eyes and let the string slip through his fingers.

They come in 3s

Last Week:

1. My housemate, Felicia, lost her darling Grandma. Emotional recovery will take a while.

2. My dad lost his job. Being a small Adventist school that is not thriving in this economy they had to cut out the high school. Unfortunately my dad is the high school teacher. I'm confident he can get hired again...if there are jobs out there. I'm ready for some economic recovery.

3. There isn't a 3. ...but isn't that how it usually happens?

Permanence

"the property of being able to exist for an indefinite duration." Being an ENFP I don't favor permanence very often. I like keeping my options open but I'm realizing (especially in the past 2 days) that sometimes it's necessary and other times you have no choice. Yesterday, my housmate's grandma passed away. They were very close and several times I joined my housemate for her daily visit with her grandma. When I came home last night, my normal chipper housemate was curled up in her bed under her grandma's blanket. I crawled in next to her as she laid on my shoulder and cried. I have never lost a close family member so I know I don't understand her pain but even the permanence was a strange concept to wrap my mind around. Her grandma will never again be in her apartment.

On a different note...I had to tell a guy that was pursuing me that I could never see us dating. "Never" is a harsh word. I don't like saying it. I understand that you must be clear and honest with people but it just seems like a knife when you sever something permanently.

Here I go

I'm gonna run.

That's what I do...when I get frustrated, bored, excited, angry, ambitious, sad, energized.

It's in my blood. Is that bad? I grew up running. Always new places, new people, new experiences. Running was the answer to anxiousness. Get it out.

I feel it coming... My leg is constantly moving like a sewing machine. I'm ready to run.

Where next? Hawaii? Atlanta? Patagonia? Alaska? Greece? Australia?


I'm gonna run.


Come and get me.

3 a.m. bedtime stories

I should be passed out by now. I've worked the last 3 nights in the ER so even though I'm tired...my body wants to stay awake. Just watched a movie...thinking it would help me fall asleep...nope. A car just pulled up outside at the neighbors. I guess I'm not the only one up.

Last night in the ER (around 3 a.m.) a girl came in after a "cat fight" at a restaurant. Her opponent had taken off her stiletto and hit our patient in the eye. She had a nice laceration across her eyelid. Fat was oozing out and her eye and cheek were swollen like a balloon. The X-rays showed a "blow-out" fracture, meaning the thin bony socket that holds the eyeball got cracked in several places. You can't really put a cast on that. We called ophthalmology to come suture up her lid. The resident that came was from Loma Linda. She did a really good job.

The night before that we had a half naked girl brought in by the police for assaulting his sergeant but that wasn't before they broke up the "cat fight" she was in. Her wound was a nice meaty bite mark on the back of her arm. Apparently biting is still allowed when you're an adult...or maybe just when you're drunk. That same night I sutured up a laceration on man's forehead. He had also been brought in by the police and not only was he intoxicated, he was very upset with the cop that arrested him for possession of cocaine and felt the need to verbalize this...over and over again. This certain policeman was a young and cocky fellow who preceded to purposely aggravate the man and for some reason had taken a liking to me and was asking me questions about myself as I prepared for my suturing procedure. With the patient hand-cuffed to both sides of the gurney, laying on his back, his line of sight was limited but the officer chose to stand directly over him across the bed from me. This made my job difficult as the drunken man kept turning his head to scold the officer and ramble on about injustice. The cop smugly ignored him as he continued to "interrogate" me. My tolerance level was declining as I thought, "this officer has just as much common sense as this drunk man." I took a plastic syringe of normal saline to irrigate the wound. My plan was to push the fluid gently into the laceration to clean it out but as I pushed on the end of the syringe...it wouldn't budge. I pushed harder...And like a shotgun going off, the saline shot into the wound and ricocheted out the other direction splattering blood all over the wall, the sheets and...the policeman's face. He looked at me in shock as his hand slowly wiped a few drops off his cheek and out of his eye. With a serious tone I said, "You should probably go have the doctor look at that." He walked out. I honestly felt bad for the mistake but with him gone my patient quieted down, fell asleep, and I sewed him up in peace.

Gray or Blue...lyrics

I feel so helpless now, my guitar is not around
And I'm struggling with the xylophone to make these feelings sound
And I'm remembering you singing and bringing you to life
And It's raining out the window and today it looks like night

You haven't written to me in a week I'm wondering why that is
Are you too nervous to be lovers, friendships ruined with just one kiss
I watched you very closely and I saw you look away
Your eyes are either gray or blue, I'm never close enough to say

But your sweatshirt says it all with the hood over your face
I can't keep staring at your mouth without wondering how it tastes
I'm with another boy; he's asleep, I'm wide awake
And he tried to win my heart, but it's taken time

I know the shape of your hands because I watch them when you talk
And I know the shape of your body 'cause I watch it when you walk
And I want to know it all but I'm giving you the lead
So go on, go on and take it, don't fake it, shake it

Crazy eyes have you. Are they gray or blue?

I won't make the move
you must make the move
if you make the move
I will then approve
if you do not move
we will surely lose

Don't second guess your feelings. You were right from the start
And I notice she's your lover, but she's nowhere near your heart
This city is for strangers, like the sky is for the stars
But I think it's very dangerous if we do not take whats ours

And I'm winning you with words because I have no other way
I'd love to look into your face without your eyes turning away
Last night I watched you sing because a person has to try
And I walked home in the rain because a person cannot lie

Temporary Madness

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."
-St. Augustine

Congratulations to two of my favorite people, Rika and Aaron, on the beginning of your life together. Oct. 18, 2009

feeling rich

Generally I don't care for rain. Overcast days can bring my mood down but today is different. SoCal is mostly sunny so a dreary day is refreshing. I am introspective today. I feel like sitting by a window covered in rain drops and writing. So here I am. I feel content. I just had a long conversation with a good friend, received a post card from another, and got a package from my mom filled with tea, chocolate, and licorice...some of my favorites.

I have a proposal to write today to get approval for my small group to paint an old thrift store that is going under. We are going to try and revive it by giving it a major face lift inside and out. They give their profits to the nursing scholarship at Loma Linda so we would like to get them back on their feet. Soon the drab grey metal building will be bright red and white like a barn and hopefully new signage will come next.

The adult psych unit is interesting. We have patients that think they are the Hercules and Zeus, one that sees angels and demons, another that is "being followed by the pentagon because he found the solution for the world", and one that thinks all the staff members are different famous people. I'm Helen Hunt. It is never a dull day on the unit.

I can't explain the way I feel right now. It's sort of like the feeling I get when I watch the movie, "Away We Go." Do you ever feel like your life could be a movie? Or that you are watching yourself as an outsider. The soundtrack for my life right now is a Ray Lamontagne song and my day has been a contrast of melancholy feelings and happy/quirky/unexpected experiences.

I love it.

What I want out of life...

I want to be a grandma in a rocking chair that reads books to her grandchildren on her lap and then goes and climbs trees with them.

I want my conversations with my Father to continually get longer and deeper.

I want to always be full of love for people around me.

I want to wake up next to my husband when I'm 80 and we'll smile at each other, knowing we have had an amazing life together.

I want to speak gently and love unconditionally.

I want to kiss my husband every time he comes home.

I want my children to be thinkers but not afraid to feel. I want them to spend more time outdoors than inside and be known for their kindness more than any other attribute.

I want to get good use and wear out of everything I own and if I don't I want to be able to give it away without blinking twice.

I want to wake up to the words, "Good Morning Beautiful"

I want to go jogging with my fiance' on the morning of our wedding.

I want a slack-line, a tree house, a hammock, bird feeders, and a rope swing in my back yard.

I want to randomly go grocery shopping at 1 am with my husband.

I want to always be a loyal friend.

I want my day-to-day expenses to be very simple so that large amounts of money can easily be given to those in need or used for travel.

I want my door to always be open and friends to come over unexpectedly.

I want to live near a few close friends that become our family.

I want Sabbath to be the best day of the week for everyone in my home.

I want to run a marathon.

I want to live in Hawaii again.

I want to work in my garden barefoot, in a skirt.

I want to wear flowers in my hair at my wedding.

I want to regularly communicate with my husband from across a room with our eyes.

I want to live near water.

I want to take evening walks with my husband and hold his hand.

I want to always be able to feed who ever walks through my door.

I want family time be filled with laughter and teasing whether we're playing in the snow, on the beach, or cooking together in the kitchen.

I want to be my husband's biggest fan.

I want to let my kids keep any animal they bring home and help them raise it.

I want to regularly camp with my kids in the back yard and make blueberry pancakes in the morning.

I want to learn how to dance.

I want to travel.

I want my wrinkles to be from smiling so much.

I want to have soft sheets.

I want to ride a train a long distance.

I want my children to go climbing and snow shoeing with my dad.

I want to read books that enrich my life.

I want to spend more time building relationships than a career.

I want to live someplace sunny.

I want to be a missionary.

I want...

Psych!

2nd rotation of 12. Psychiatry. I'm working on the adolescent inpatient unit this week and have been very fascinated and saddened by the mentally disabling illnesses out there that affect our youth. One girl in particular was a well functioning, straight A 15 year old with only a history of bipolar in her family to be her downfall. So the combination of faulty genes and large amounts of cortisol building up in her brain from stress (she just broke up with her boyfriend) causes her to have her first "break". A "break" in bipolar disorder means a manic phase of this disease. (Bipolar being the combination of depression and mania). So after a few days of not eating or sleeping because of the heartbreak she begins to become hyperactive and hypertalkative. Her parents realize something is different with their daughter so they put her in the car to go to the ER. On the way to the hospital the girl gets out of the moving vehicle and precedes to remove all her clothing while walking out into traffic. (She has now "broken") At the hospital, the girl tells the nurse that she is 4 years old and has no orientation to where she is at or what day it is. From the hospital she is admitted to the unit I'm working on. She is now my patient. The doctor and I go in to talk with her. She is still undressing herself and so she is kept in an isolated room. She is wrapped in a blanket sitting on her bed. It is obvious that she is "checked out". She can't answer our questions. She can't remember anything past 1st grade and when we sit in silence she will space out and then be surprised to see the doctor sitting next to her. She reaches out to touch his shoulder to see if he is real. She can't delineate between reality and the hallucinations she's seeing. Thankfully this is bipolar and not schizophrenia. Bipolar is treatable with meds and people can function normally if they are compliant with taking them. My heart aches for her and her family. These few weeks will be some of the hardest for them. But there is hope. Hope that she will improve. Hope that our Father will come soon and restore us all with new minds.

embarrassment

So the past 2 weeks have been the start of my clinical rotations. I'm currently doing "family medicine" which means I go between the urgent care and the family clinic. Most days, it's pretty mellow. I've had the opportunity to incise and drain several MRSA abscesses from peoples underarms and inner thighs. Those days, I go home feeling like I need to jump in a bath of bleach water. Other times I come home rather amused by the patient encounters I've had.

One of my first days in the urgent care, I was asked by one of the PAs if I would like to come watch an incision and drainage of a cyst. I happily accepted and followed her blindly into a room with a closed door. To my surprise and more to the patient's surprise was that I recognized him. The look on his face when he realized he knew me was one of mild horror. The first thought through my head was, "Where is the cyst?". At that point I could have chosen to turn around and leave out of respect for him but I made a quick decision to act professional and stay. This was a good learning experience and good practice for future encounters with patients I might personally know. Within seconds the PA had him on his belly with his shorts half way down his bum. The cyst happened to be nestled in the superior portion of his butt cheeks. I think at this point, both the patient and I were probably blushing but neither of us could see the others' face. So we chatted as if were sitting in a cafe' having coffee together, all the while I'm helping to hold his cheeks apart while the PA performed the procedure.

Another day, at the Family clinic, I was helping out a resident by seeing some of his patients. I picked up a chart on the outside of a room. On the line where it says why the patient is there, it read, "Suppression Therapy." Not really sure what that meant, I walked confidently into the room to find a 30 something, good looking gentleman with a very nervous look on his face. He was expecting to see a male doctor but instead a young female student walks in and shakes his hand. As a I sat down with my clipboard and asked him why he was there, he crossed his legs, and his arms, and with hesitation told me he was there for suppression therapy for his Herpes. Once again, I practiced my "non shocked, this happens all the time" demeanor. I asked him questions about the history of his disease as if it were a common cold. His body language opened up over a few minutes but when I went to listen his heart and lungs, I could see that he was sweating profusely. That was the extent of my exam. I didn't ask to see the herpes. I believed him and I think he appreciated that.

Headed for Zion

This last weekend I took a trip to Zion National park with my friend Josh. I first met him when I moved to Bend, Oregon 4 years ago and since then we have kept in touch off and on. This trip was a spontaneous one. We haven't talked more than 5 or 6 times in the last 3 years so I knew it would be interesting to spend 4 straight days together. One of my favorite things about Josh is that he is different than most of my other friends. He considers himself to be agnostic and has led a very different life than me and my fellow Adventists. This creates wonderful discussions about life, God, origin, love, relationships, and standards. We challenge each other and it causes us to think and re-evaluate our beliefs.

One thing I gained from this trip was a more defined set of beliefs. It's not often that you get challenged to defend yourself when you hang out with people that believe the same things you do. When someone is pushing you from the opposite direction it causes you to run around in your head and pick up all the pieces that you thought you knew and try to fit them together to form a clear picture. Some of those pieces, you throw out, but others you pick up, dust off and remember how valuable they are to you. I loved the challenge of hanging out with Josh but by day 3 I started to miss my Christian friends. Not because they are comfortable and don't challenge me but because they understand and strive for the same things I do. We have the same struggles and enjoy the same victories. We have the same purpose in life.

This just helps me understand culture and group loyalty a lot better. People like to congregate with others that believe the same way they do. It's tough to be challenged and have your beliefs questioned. But I think it's a good thing. It keeps you sharp and keeps you thinking. Even though Josh doesn't consider himself to be a Christian, this weekend he helped me strengthen my faith and solidify the reasons I walk with God.

His Heart in My Hands part 2

What have I done? Another man's heart sits broken in my hands. I don't know how to fix it or what to do next. Was I being selfish? Was this necessary? God, you are the only one I have to lean on now. Please hold me. My heart is broken too. The only thing that connects us now is the pain. I feel so lost and confused...but I trust you.

His Heart in My Hands

I lifted out the cold solid mass and examined our work from the last 30 minutes. We had just played surgeon on a dead guy and performed the first half of a heart transplant. It began with the whirring sound of the electric bone-saw as we pushed through the medial ends of the clavicles. Next came the stainless steal clippers. They looked like the hand-held shears my mom uses to trim her roses. Instead of flower stems, we clipped along the side of the man's thorax, crunching through his ribs like they were crab legs at a buffet dinner. Stopping at the bottom of the rib cage, we left the diaphragm muscle intact to act as a hinge for this doorway into the man's chest. As two of us strained to break open the chest cavity, a third assisted the ripping connective tissue with a scalpel. Inside, revealed the pinkish/gray spongy lungs... but no heart. Where was that red, fist-sized muscle that we value so much? Apparently, it doesn't sit openly on the left side of the chest like I was led to believe. Carefully nested between the lungs in a sac of greasy fluid was the treasure we were searching for. With nimble fingers we reached around the heart and sliced through the small and large vessels that were tethering it to the rest of the body. Then...for the first time in this man's existence his heart was literally pulled out of his chest. I took it over to the sink and began washing out the dried blood. It felt like a rubber pliable toy as I stuck my fingers into the hollow atriums and felt around for left over chunks. Little fountains were created as water poured into one tube and shot out of another. My lab partners sat behind me discussing the latest "Bachelor" episode and the 3 women that were left, all striving for the man's heart. Too bad they weren't in lab with us today. It wasn't that difficult.

feelings

My counselor says I don't spend time with my feelings. I'm quick to put up a wall to anything painful. I know this. It's my coping mechanism. I have left too many homes, too many friends, too many loved ones to allow myself to feel the pain that comes with saying good-bye. If I keep looking toward the future and exciting things around the corner I don't have to remember the past.

Where are you, feelings?

I have been trying to spend time alone exploring that uncharted territory but not much is found. My heart is not my own to conquer. It has its own bonds with another outside of myself. When I am carefully focused on the present task at hand something pulls on those strings.
I'm attached.

If I cannot feel the warmth, or pain, or longing of my own heart it is another heart that calls to mine. I can feel the warmth and pain and longing of that heart thousands of miles away.
Soul connection.

I don't understand it...logic can't explain it...with each tug that soul makes on mine...my heart's door is inched open bit by bit. Come out, feelings. Break out and see...