Why I Write
When I first opened my practice, I made a commitment to publish a blog post once a week. Originally, the intent was to update my website in the hope that consistently generating new content would boost my SEO (search engine optimization). I thought this would help people on the internet find me and my office.
I looked at other sites, watched too many Facebook videos about internet marketing, and started reading books about how to boost digital presence. There is a lot of information out there. One of the tidbits that I believe applies to all writing is knowing who the audience is. This seems to be an important aspect in honing what and how one writes.
After 7 months, I realized who I was writing for.
I write for myself. I consider this blog a meditation and I write as a way to record and distill the important observations and lessons I’m learning in life and in practice. It's a way to remind myself that I can be a better human, that I can continue to learn how, and that the often messy business of living is a practice and process. I don’t have it figured out, but I’m working to improve.
I see now that my intent for this blog is, and in a way always was, modelled after the writing of Marcus Aurelius. His famous work is called Meditations, but a closer translation of his title Ta eis heauton is “to himself.” Even though he was the emperor of Rome, he wasn't telling anyone what to do. His writing was for an audience of one. He was reminding himself what the important things to focus on were.
I share my meditations for 2 reasons. There is a sense of accountability that is inherent in making them public. It encourages greater discipline to put into practice what I am learning, even though at times this is much easier said than done. Also, I believe that if these observations are valuable, they aren't valuable solely for me. If in sharing I can pass forward something of value, then it won’t do to keep it to myself. This is why I write.
Control
When confronted with experiences that challenge the perceived stability of life, we have an inherent tendency to try to regain control. Even our best-laid plans cannot account for many of the curve balls thrown by fate.
Sometimes the store is out of eggs when we promised to make breakfast or there is unusual traffic on the day of an important meeting. Sometimes dogs run away. Sometimes people get diagnosed with terminal cancer.
What can be done when we are presented with things that are simply beyond our ability to control?
We can ask for help.
We can choose to face the challenge with honesty and with courage.
We can practice directing our attention to gratitude for that which is good.
The only thing we have any degree of control over is how we choose to see and respond to the challenges and the opportunities life provides. We cannot tell the wind when or how to blow, but we can learn to sail.
The Problem with Maintenance
In the alternative health field, many people choose to continue care even after there has been resolution of the problem for which they initially sought treatment. In the absence of pain or a clinical condition, continuing care that is “not deemed medically necessary” is called maintenance care. The implication is that the person has achieved a state of health that is better than when they began and they desire to stay there.
This is a reasonable position and one that is understandably desirable. There is also a problem with this perspective.
The problem of maintenance is that the objective is to plateau. The very nature of the language and the intent of maintenance is to keep someone where they are. Even if the current state is better than the old state, if the goal is stasis, this is inherently limiting in both perspective and in practice.
The experience of life and how we are able to navigate through storm and still is not done by picking a place and staying there. Life happens in the balance of stability and instability. There is comfort in stability, but also a massive impediment to growth.
A richer alternative to maintenance would be, as the Stoic philosopher Epictetus counselled, to “make the mind adaptable to any circumstances.” The adaptability of the mind is a direct reflection of the integrity and the tone of the nervous system. It stands to reason (and is evidenced in practice) that an approach to health, wellness, and well-being that promotes neural integrity will not lead to maintaining a static plateau, but a way to embody strategies that advance the human condition.
