Portland: Year One
One year ago I left my home, my family, my friends, and my job. I went West with little more than some books, some camping equipment, and the prospect of opportunity.
I arrived in Portland in time to enjoy the second half of summer, a beautiful autumn, and a terrible winter. The first six months were challenging. I had moved to a place where I did not know anyone and couldn’t depend on the traditional networks of family, school, or work. Adding to the strain, the expectations and the reality of the job position that encouraged me to move never quite matched up.
By the end of 2016, I knew a choice needed to be made. I could abandon the safety net and assume the risk I had always been reluctant to take, or I could concede defeat and return to the sandy beaches and the pine barrens of the Jersey shore. I stayed for two reasons.
The first was a growing sense that the main thing preventing me from doing what I knew was necessary was Fear. As McCoy might say, I’m a doctor, not a businessman! I had up until this point worked under the umbrella of other people. I was beginning to not only understand, but to know, that the practice and the experience I wanted to offer was not something I could obtain from someone else. It was something I had to create.
The second reason I stayed was the same reason I was drawn to Portland. In early 2015, I was in Denver, CO. I had been revisiting a question I had asked myself since I was 14 years old: “where do I want to be?” I had grown to hate that question. The answer was never apparent and although I have been fortunate to explore some good places, at no point had I ever felt I was where I was supposed to be. While in Colorado I was turned on to the idea and the practice of asking better questions - better as in questions with more energy, more complexity, and more depth. “Where do I want to be?” is inherently a simple, selfish, vague, and rather uninteresting question. Why should I expect a profound answer? As I was watching the sunset over the Rockies, I revised my question:
“Where am I called to facilitate the advancement of the human condition in myself and others?”
I had a dream that night in which I saw a tall, white, angled peak rising from a sea of green trees. I had a suspicion it was Mt. Hood, but wasn’t sure. The next day I began planning a trip to visit the Pacific Northwest.
Mt. Hood has been and continues to serve as my anchor. There is a groundedness and a certainty that this place, at least for now, is where I am called to be.
It has been five months since I cast aside the safety net, opened my own practice, and started to create the opportunity to do the work I am meant to do. Stay tuned.
May the Fourth
On this auspicious day, I have found it timely to revisit two of my most grounding philosophies.
Perhaps my favorite teaching from Jedi Master Yoda comes when he is training young Luke in the ways of the Force. He says,
“For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force around you; here, between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere, yes.”
I believe that part of the reason Star Wars was and continues to be so captivating is its ability to weave some of the oldest and deepest notions we have about life into a galactic narrative. By framing the story “a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away” George Lucas gave us the opportunity to relax the critical chatter of our mind and to listen with our heart.
In my traditional chiropractic philosophy, principles similar to the ones expressed by Yoda are evident. In 1927, R.W. Stevenson codified 33 Principles in The Chiropractic Textbook. In it, he writes,
“The function of force is to unite intelligence and matter” and that
“the expression of intelligence through matter is the chiropractic meaning of life.”
For me, it is philosophy that serves as the foundation upon which the art and science of my craft can be firmly rooted. It is not a dogmatic belief in doctrine, but an examined lens that supports and is supported by the evidence of practice.
And so on this day and all days, may the Force (and the 4th) be with you.
Proaction or Reaction?
Camping in the Pacific Northwest, especially in Spring, means you expect rain. In addition to preparing for rain, spending an extended period of time outdoors highlights the importance of proaction.
The cumulative benefit of being mindful of small tasks and taking action before you need to cannot be overstated. Things like washing your dishes after dinner so you have clean plates for breakfast, putting the fly on your tent before it starts to rain, bringing dry wood and keeping it dry, and storing food safely to prevent or deter wildlife from noshing your lunch are examples of being proactive. Sometimes you can get away with neglecting these tasks, but how much more stress and effort are experienced when you have to react to predictable events that could put a damper on your trip?
I think, in fact I know, that the same rules apply to self-care.
Doesn’t it make more sense to consistently promote health, to position yourself to be as adaptive as possible to current stressors, and to employ measures now that prepare you for strains that will challenge you in the future?
In my line of work I often encounter folks who are reacting to signs and symptoms, which accompany an interruption in their ability to perform the tasks they need to or want to do. This is the functional definition of pain. I understand this and it is usually the entry point for people to seek help from a healthcare provider. There is nothing wrong or bad about this approach. If, however, you value being able to live a full and healthy life, reaction as a strategy is simply not as effective as proaction - action that initiates positive change.
My work focuses on helping people reorganize the neural patterns that govern whether they react or respond to stress, and how efficiently they can do so. This approach to health and wellbeing is incredibly effective to help people reacting to pain, but it is even more powerful as a proactive tool to add more life to your years.
In closing, be proactive, get outside, and take care of yourself...now.
