Category: Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine

Reflections on a variety of topics. My hope is to stir your thinking and perhaps even give you things to talk about in regards to what it means to be human, about life in general, and often times on the practice of medicine.

Categories
Being human Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine Reflections on the Christian Life Updates on my health

The Drive

I did the same drive one night last week. It had been seven months to the day. I was driving from Holland to Grand Rapids. Both drives were in my Mini Cooper Countryman. I clicked it into Sport mode just like I had done seven months earlier. “Let’s Motor Hard!” the dash flashed back at me. I could feel the power of the turbo push me back in the seat as I accelerated away from the stop and shifted through the gears. I had the same music playing. I hadn’t done all of this intentionally. It just happened. The song, “Chasing the Sun” came on. It was a song that hit me so very hard 7 months ago. The night of the 1stdrive I listened to it repeatedly. This time I listened to it once and then turned the music off. It hit me that I was reliving the drive of 7 months ago.

I turned the music off so that I could think. Things are different now. What has changed? What have I learned? Am I wiser now or am I just different? I wanted to hear what was inside my head. I turned the music off.

I realize now that I was angry the night of that 1stdrive. I was mad at myself. I was mad at the world. I felt like I had been pushing so hard and been living my life deferred for the future. That isn’t entirely true. But I felt such an intense feeling of FOMO.[1]My unspoken assumptions were crashing around me. I assumed that I had a lot of time. I assumed that I had retirement. I assumed that there was tomorrow to do, I don’t even know what, but that that tomorrow was there for whatever I wanted it to be there to do. And then it wasn’t.

I wanted to be free. I wanted to sail away on my sailboat into the sunset. For days on end. 

I wanted to get up in the morning and have margin. To be able to breathe and not feel pressured to get anything done. To be able to do things. I don’t know what but to be able to do them. To feel my own emotions. To think my own thoughts. To tinker. To go out to breakfast. To slow down enough to really appreciate the important people in my life. To drive slowly through life just because I felt like it.

That was when I started writing. I had to. There was so much in my head that I needed to put it down somewhere just to be able to think. I didn’t have any intention of blogging or sharing it at the time. I just wanted – or needed – to write.

As I continued to drive on “the drive” version 2 things felt different. What? How?

All of those former things are still important. I never want to lose the wisdom of that first drive. 

But there is more. There is a deeper wisdom. There is life without the anger. There is life not being driven by FOMO. There is life to be lived. 

In my heart I could feel the difference. My heart was trying to teach me as I turned each corner. It was gently telling me that there was a deeper wisdom yet that I needed to hear. I drove on.

I saw a man mowing the grass. Even with the windows closed the image was strong enough that my senses came alive in my mind. I could imagine the smell of the freshly cut grass. The cool evening air moving past my cheeks. The vibrations of the mower. The satisfaction of the smooth and even symmetrically groomed grass. I envied him. Smell it. Feel it. Experience it. Enjoy it!

The sensations are nice. They should not be ignored. They should be enjoyed. They should be tasted and savored and lived in the moment.

I drove further down the road, made a few turns and continued to drive.

Next was the tilled field. The raw dirt was visible. Still my windows were closed and the senses that came alive were not real but were in my mind. And yet they were as strong as if I were walking through the field. The earthy smell of the dirt. The soft clumps breaking beneath my feet. The warmth of the sun on my back. My mind was alive and filled with sensations again.

The wisdom was coming through.

I was able to hear and understand. I could turn the music on again and enjoy it.

“Dying is easy. Living is harder,” is a quote from the musical, “Hamilton.” That is not the music I was listening to, but the phrase seemed to capture some of what I think I am trying to say. We can debate the truth of that statement. I think it may not be completely true. Out of profound respect for those who are on the edge of dying we must acknowledge that we do not know how hard it is for them. But figuring out how to live is indeed an important challenge. And I think that is what I am hoping to convey.

It is easy to dream of doing great and amazing things. It can fill us with emotions as we aspire to more. We can plan and dream of the future. We can build and defer and hope. All of that is very good. But there is even more that is important in life.

This moment. 

This moment has immense value. That is the deep lesson. Not a deep need for something else. But to love the now. To appreciate the gift of the moment and to taste, feel, smell, hear and see the beauty and joy of the now. Not living for tomorrow. Not living for yesterday. Living for today. Living for this very moment.

So, what is different than the 1stdrive? I have been given a reprieve. There may be a future. I don’t know how long of a future. The cancer could be gone for good. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But there is enough room to begin thinking about a future. But that is suddenly not as important as the now. It doesn’t mean that I don’t strongly and intensely believe in the power of hope and looking forward. It just means that I also now believe in the importance and value and richness of “the now.”

Seven months ago, it was about all of the things that I might not get to do. It was about an intense pressure to experience tomorrow today. Now it is about really experiencing today today.

Today I had the gift to see a patient in the office. 

I actually saw many patients but living in the now is about each “one moment.” 

This was a moment of taking an anxious patient and their family and verbally holding them. Supporting them. Caring for them. “What questions do youhave?” I asked the wife when the patient was finished asking his questions. She was trying to make words and they wouldn’t come. There was a deep emotional sore underneath and she was struggling to remove the bandage so that I could see it. I did it for her. “So, what is going to happen?” I asked. We could then openly discuss the fears for his future, whether he would respond to the treatment changes and how long would he live. I could begin to answer some of the deep fears and pain that she was feeling.

That moment. 

Immense value. 

Not the future. There. Then. Now.

There were dozens of those moments and experiences. Every day brings them. That is the deep wisdom. To experience the world that God has given us today and to enjoy what it has today. 

I know that it is a fallen and broken world. There is pain and times when it is all just “not right.” But it is also a world that God once created in perfection. At times it still gives us glimpses of this perfection. It gives us glimpses of who He is. In the beauty that remains we can see His reality. We can feel the perfection of the plans that He has for us. 

In the love of a wife for her husband. The smell of freshly cut grass. The feel of the cool evening dew on your face. The earthy smell of fresh dirt filling your nose. The gentle kiss or touch of someone you love. The sun rising through the trees as the brand-new spring leaves are just popping out. The amazing gift that He gives me to be his minister of grace and love and kindness as a physician. These are all wonderous glimpses of God within His creation. Each glimpse brings meaning and joy to our lives.

After the 1stdrive there were a dozen thoughts about what I was going to do. Would I continue to work? Would we make dramatic changes in how we lived our lives? We looked at houses on the water. I thought about other things that I wanted to do. We talked about “bucket lists.” We thought about all sorts of things.  

But the truth is that God has given me so much. Honestly, now it seems shameful to me to not appreciate all that He has already given. As I think about a “bucket list” it doesn’t seem so important anymore. Will each experience really make me that much happier or fulfilled? There is a much different question. Can I be intentional enough to love what I already have?

A physician friend in another city returned to work after his cancer. I spoke with him several weeks ago. He told me that he is back at work because it is who he is. I didn’t realize it in the moment, but he has discovered deep wisdom. He is living and enjoying who he is and what he has. 

“Living is harder.” Maybe. Maybe not. But can you do it? Can you live? Can you enjoy the moment? Can you enjoy the gifts of the now? 

Look up from your phone or computer for a minute. Engage your senses. Take in the moment. Find joy in it. Experience it for a minute. Imagine you were given the gift of being able to return from the future to this very moment and relive it. How would you live it? What is there in this moment that is valuable and worthy to be enjoyed?

There are cool things coming tomorrow. It is ok to hope and dream and plan and reach for them. Yesterday had both good and bad within it. Memories can be nice. But do not forget the immense value in today. In the now.

That is what the Lord was telling me on “the drive” version 2. The anger is gone. We all want a lot. But today has a lot –enough – for me. For you.

[1]FOMO = Fear Of Missing Out

Categories
Being human Reflections on Life, Being Human, and Medicine Reflections on the Christian Life

Music

I was invited to be part of an honors band. I was in high school. As I recall, it was a weekend event held at Albion College. There were a few of us who went. I played the cornet. 

The event included rapidly learning a piece of symphonic music along with students from around the state of Michigan. We learned, practiced, and rehearsed.  The culmination of the event was a concert where we performed.

It has been so long ago (over 35 years ago) that I don’t exactly remember all of the details.

But I do remember the feeling. 

The performance was amazing. Sitting in the middle of the large band with some really talented musicians was an honor and a joy. In the performance the music seemed to lift me off of my chair. I remember thinking that the sound from French horns around me was close to heaven. I could feel my inner self being moved in ways that I cannot completely explain.

For a scientific mind it was one of my early tastes of the joys of the other parts of my existence. I have always found the logic of science easy. Math was truly enjoyable. It has structure and rules to it. It is reproduceable. You can follow the rules and get the same answer every time. Once you understand the principles you can get the right answer. And there is always one right answer.

Life is not always that way. There are of course parts of life that are indeed objective and reproduceable. But then there is art. And poetry. And music. And really understanding people. And the reality of living in a world that is not always black and white.

These are a lot harder for me.

As I have aged, I have come to appreciate the complexities in life. Many of us begin to say that we realize that there are multiple gradations of gray in between the black and white.  

But that is not the real truth. 

The real truth is that there are rich and vibrant colors that fill our universe. 

Of course, everything is not black and white. There are colors that I don’t even know how to name. Colors that fall somewhere in between. Colors that we don’t even know if we all experience in the same way. Colors that can invoke deep emotions – sometimes exciting, sometimes happy, sometimes sad and sometimes serene. Pastels. And bright colors. And muted colors. And quiet and subtle grays.

I still tend to be more concrete when it comes to art. I favor a good traditional landscape. And for writing I favor something logical. Poetry can baffle and frustrate me. But at least I hope to think that I am closer to knowing what I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have to find clear and concise logic within the painting or the poem or the story or the music. 

Maybe it is all about helping me understand that we are complex beings as humans. This is a far more complex universe and existence than what we can verbalize. We are not just chemicals and biological organs. There is something far more profound and deep to our existence. There are levels of complexity that cannot be explained by a scientific mind.

There is the immense joy of sitting in the middle of a symphonic band and feeling deep deep emotion welling up inside of me. The emotions are so intense that at one moment I can feel both joy in my heart and tears welling up in my eyes. And these seem to come from a place that I cannot explain. 

In that moment I understand that there is a lot more to being human than I will ever understand. In fact, there is far more to our world – to our universe – than what is obvious. 

Our good friends perform in the Grand Rapids symphony. I saw that the symphony was going to perform Holst’s “The Planets”. Like many I have always loved that symphony. The intensity of the music is strong enough that it can bring me back to what I felt sitting in the middle of the honors band at Albion College. Sarah talked with our friends and as a present to me got tickets for us to go to the performance. 

It was amazing. It once again moved me in ways that I cannot explain.

What was fun was that it did the same thing for Sarah. She was amazed by it. We walked away not sure what to say. You cannot explain it in words. All you can say is, “Wow!” 

And in that moment, you get a glimpse of how wonderful and amazing and complex our existence is. An existence which God has created with depth and beauty and complexities that go beyond our understanding. 

Do not forget music. Indulge in it. Enjoy it. Turn off the television. Go to the symphony. Sit in the middle of the auditorium and let the music wrap around you. Tone down your left (rational) brain and let the music work inside of you. Let it play with your emotions. Let it move you to places that you were not expecting or cannot rationally explain. Let it teach you about being fully human.