“Be here now” is what the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh used to say. I think about that sentence a lot. It grounds me in the present and keeps me here, no matter what I’m doing, No matter when and where I’m doing it. Not there, not then, but here and now. For a long time I thought of “Be Here Now” as “be HERE now.” Sometimes “be here NOW.” But then I heard myself think “BE here now.”
Thich Nhat Hanh said BE here now, not DO here now. Continue reading
This week I am thinking about gratitude. That’s not hard for me. I was born an optimist; I always see the glass half-full. I always make lemonade from lemons — what else would you do with them? While it is certainly true that I have had my share of bad days, I’ll be the first to tell you that they have made me a better person. And they made me a better doctor, too. See what I mean? Glass half full. It’s a given. Continue reading
A few words today on the “rest and relaxation” pillar, encouraging you to be mindful, to care for yourself, to be kind to yourself, and to help yourself remain centered, especially in the spinning vortex of ceaseless activity that continues to characterize recent weeks of change and chaos.
My word of the year is mindfulness. It’s the exact opposite of multi-tasking, which is not at all what it sounds like. To multi-task is not to get a whole bunch of different things done all at once, but rather to switch your attention incessantly from one project to another, giving none your full consideration. To multi-task is to invest heavily in attention-switching at the expense of your focus and goals. All told, it is a supreme waste of your precious energy. Continue reading
Good morning, and happy Sunday. Today I am sharing a conversation I had with a patient once some years ago. She was someone I had never met before, and was, like many before her, completely flummoxed about what to try next. With a personal goal of weight loss, she had already done everything she could think of, and then some. I know you know this story. I myself have told it many times before. There is a good chance you may even have experienced it yourself. Maybe you have experimented with practically every diet, including the dreaded cabbage soup diet, denied yourself your favorite foods, carved out time you didn’t really have to get more exercise than was comfortable at the time. Of course none of this is sustainable. You can’t eat cabbage soup for breakfast forever. So what comes next? Continue reading
Many years ago, when I was eleven years old, my parents bought a Corning Cooktop stove, a fancy new appliance whose coils remained white even when they were hot. You simply had to take it on faith — or not. No matter how long I stared at that new stovetop, I could not convince myself that the white coils were hot. And that is why I still remember so clearly, this many years later, the perfectly oval burn on the tip of my right index finger. I touched it only once, but that was enough. It was all it took. I couldn’t take anyone else’s word for it. Continue reading
Sometimes I think this blog should have a category called “It’s worse than you think” or “I’m really not exaggerating,” or maybe just “More scary news.” Sometimes I even get the feeling that people think I may be overstating the urgency of the diabetes epidemic. So I gathered together a few statistics for you. Continue reading
Throughout my years of practicing medicine, I liked to say that I preferred my patients vertical. As opposed to horizontal.
If and when I could help it, I wanted to make sure that no one got a disease that could have been prevented. Sure, accidents happen. And illnesses, sometimes serious, are diagnosed every day in the lives of people who did nothing to deserve them, and who could have done nothing to prevent them. But not all illnesses. Continue reading
Some time ago, I received my first pedometer with which to track my daily steps, and I could not have been more thrilled. Attached unobtrusively to an elastic wrist band, it ventured forth with me every day as I plotted my path, set my course, stepped up, or took a hike. Continue reading
When I was eleven years old, my parents, always “early adopters” of the latest technology long before this kind of thing had a name, bought a brand new stove with a smooth white ceramic top. It was called a Corning Cooktop, and its most memorable feature, at least to me, was that its elements remained white even when they were hot enough to boil water. Was it really that hot? You had to take it on faith — or not. No matter how long I stared at it, I could not convince myself that the white ceramic stovetop was hot. And that is why I still remember, all these many years later, the perfectly oval burn on the tip of my right index finger. I only touched that hot stove once, but that was all it took. I did not cry, even though it hurt a lot. I just stared and stared. I could not take anyone else’s word for it; I needed to see for myself. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even tell anyone in my family. I just needed to know. Continue reading
When my father was alive we liked to pick up breakfast at his favorite local bakery, Luna, and then drive to Sulphur Springs, a secluded area in the South Chagrin reservation of the Cleveland Metroparks that was accessible by car. I would lift his walker from the back of the car, and he would make his way to the closest picnic table, where we would sit, eat, read the paper. After a while I would walk down to the creek to take a photograph. Sulphur Springs is a moment in time. We could sit for an hour or more, and hear nothing but bird calls, the sound of water burbling over the stones, and the occasional car. Continue reading