Monthly Archives: November 2021

Stay Connected

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NaBoPoMo 2021:  Do Good, Kid

My friend Liz is amazing.

We met just as I was leaving my last practice 7 years ago, and I knew right away I had to grow this relationship.  She is an elder sister in the profession—a wise, compassionate, generous, empathic, smart, thoughtful, and loving physician and teacher.  After I had the privilege of presenting to her and her amazing colleagues on physician burnout (really, they schooled me that day), Liz showed me the inner world of primary care in a correctional facility.  We toured incredibly aged buildings.  Liz explained the frustrating limitations of working in a jail environment and the difficulties arranging optimal follow up when detainees are released.  But most of all, she showed me what true, deep respect for every person’s dignity, no matter how vulnerable, looks like.  Holy cow, I will never forget that day. 

Liz is also a deeply spiritual person.  She wrote the chapter on spiritual resources for Jewish healthcare professionals in Judaism and Health.  After our day together at the jail, we kept trying to meet again.  I wanted to learn more about Judaism and how she lived it—personally, professionally, and in community.  But my kids were little and the weather was bad on the nights we planned to meet, or something would come up, or- or- or…  It just never worked out.  But as physicians of deep faith, we both always knew we would connect again someday.

We kept in touch all these years mostly through occasional emails, and then YAY Facebook, especially the Physician Moms Group!  By far the most valuable thing about social media is sharing photos and reading life updates.  It really makes you feel like you’re in your friends’ lives up close, going through all the ups and downs, sharing joys and sorrows, witnessing from afar.  When I posted recently about a freak out I had over Daughter’s anaphylactic food allergy, Liz reached out.

We met in her neighborhood, which happens to be my old college stomping grounds.  We walked all over campus and caught up, shared stories, commiserated, and bonded, just like we always knew we would.  I got a copy of the book with a bonus printout of her favorite poem, “The Seven of Pentacles” by Marge Piercy.  I will return the love with my favorite book of poems so far, To Bless the Space Between Us by John O’Donohue. 

The space between us, indeed.  So near, just across town, yet so far, 7 years, and yet so near still, always connected in spirit through the years, light and strong, like dental floss or fishing line… We stayed connected, patiently, faithfully, knowing that divinity operates on its own schedule, and that when we could finally meet again, it would be powerful and lovely. 

And so it was.

It will not be another 7 years, this we know.  And it was well worth the wait.

Rest

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NaBloPoMo 2021:  Do Good, Kid

Sometimes it’s just too much.

Perhaps you are familiar with the involuntary shut down?  Physical, mental, functional—the body knows what we need, even if the mind flouts it.  The body usually wins—it puts us down despite our resistance, denial, hubris, masochism, or whatever.  If we’re lucky, nothing that bad happens—we crash for a day or so, sleep, lounge, mope, release.  The family, office, social circles get along without us for a little while.  Then, recharged and refreshed (at least partially), we’re back at it, careening on the path toward burnout yet again.  When will we learn to pace ourselves?  To build in rest and recovery to our hamster wheel life?  If we thought of ourselves as elite athletes, whose utmost well-being are valued so highly, how would we treat ourselves differently and better?

The brain, which constitutes 2% of body weight, accounts for 20% of our daily energy expenditure…. So this exhaustion I feel, how much is of body, and how much of mind? Why does it matter, when they are so inextricably interdependent? How fascinating, this sensation of mental exhaustion, which manifests bodily in no uncertain terms, and yet is fully distinguishable from its physical counterpart—or is it? I feel the somatic deceleration first, then look up wearily and sense the mental blackout approaching on the horizon, a fuzzy dark cloud. I invited it by staying up too late and accepting too many invitations; by challenging myself with too many curious, fascinating! amazing! projects. It’s a recurring pattern I have yet to break, or at least balance a lot better–duh-HA! [cue cosmic laughter]

No wonder I seem to write about it repeatedly in November, though this year I’m getting to it earlier in the month than in 2016 and 2019 (see links above), teeheeee… Not sure if that’s a reassuring and/or ominous sign? I keep hearing something telling me right now, get off the computer, OMG get to bed, SLEEP! It’s like an incessant earworm… “If it’s important, it will be repeated,” they told us in medical school. Blahahaaaa (okay now I’m getting slap happy)…

So I will listen, finally, and sign off tonight with a slackish post.  Tomorrow and every day coming is another chance to practice making healthier choices.  I’ got the exercise thing down; my eating is definitely coming around.  Woohoooo, progress!  But sleep, GRRRRR.  …I’ll get there.  Maybe we can only slay one dragon at a time, after all… but not if we’re sleep deprived!

Feed Your Starter!

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NaBloPoMo 2021:  Do Good, Kid

Friends, this is SO exciting, I’m growing a successful sourdough starter!! 

I scoffed at the pandemic sourdough craze for two reasons:  1. I hate fads, and 2. I hate labor intensive cooking.  Then this summer I binged Michael Pollan’s works, and got inspired to make bread from the “Air” episode of his Netflix docuseries Cooked, based on his book of the same title.  He made bread making, such an intimidating undertaking, feel accessible and rewarding.  I started experimenting, throwing together flour, water or soymilk, lots of baking powder, and then whatever else moved me.  Early attempts included coriander muffins, ginger-maple-buckwheat pan bread, cornbread, and pumpkin loaf.  No yeast and slack measurements resulted in varying levels of rise and density, and overall happily edible success (mostly)!

I started thinking maybe a sourdough starter would be a fun, next-level project.  It’s only flour and water, so failure would at least be inexpensive, and success could open up a whole new world of home cooking!  Wouldn’t it be awesome to make something of us, our family, including the microbes that inhabit our house, namely those under the kitchen sink?  And then have that something feed us and others, perhaps for years or even generations?

Ta-daaaah, I’m so happy to report that as of Day 7, it’s alive!  Sven, as Daughter named it, reliably doubles in volume between twice daily feedings, and emanates a sweet, fruity fragrance.  Scooping out a portion every day to ‘discard’ (save in fridge), then mixing in more flour and water, is a messy proposition (I really dislike messy).  But it makes me so happy to see it growing and thriving–giving. 

This week, in a flash of cosmic inspiration, I apprehended a greater meaning for ‘Feed Your Starter’ as a life action mantra!  Sourdough starter is a natural leaven—something that makes dough rise.  Oxford Languages also defines leaven (n.) as “a pervasive influence that modifies something or transforms it for the better.”  A simple internet search of ‘sourdough recipes’ yields pages and pages of baked foods that this humble slurry of flour, water, and microorganisms transforms, into foods transcendent to just flour and water alone.  Sourdough bakers, I’m learning, are an ardent and dedicated tribe, always seeking the perfect crumb or ear.  They are passionate.

Sometimes people ask, “What really gets your motor running?” or, “What gets you up in the morning?”  In other words, what starts you?  What boosts you, helps you rise, gives your life more complexity, aroma, flavor, and texture?  And how do you keep it, this starter of yours, alive?  What’s your feeding schedule and routine?

Starters are such great metaphors!  Let’s say it’s your WHY.  It is unique to you, its creator; a product of everything about you.  You tend it, nurture it, protect it.  Feed it often and well, give it a hospitable environment, and it grows—bigger, faster, stronger.   If life gets such that you need to cool the growth, shelve it for a while, it’s okay with that, too.  It can happily relax in the back of your fridge for months until you take it out again. Then, when you’re ready, a little time and attention reawakens the bubbly fervor as if nothing happened.  It can endure for generations, inspiring people you may never meet to keep making delicious, beautiful things for all to enjoy, that benefit all.

A sourdough starter can activate and enhance so much more than a loaf of bread—just as your WHY can inform, inspire, and elevate any number of Hows and Whats in your life and others’. 

And you can share it! In this way, it resembles Simon Sinek’s idea of the Just Cause. One of the five criteria to have a just cause is inclusiveness—everybody can participate. Whenever you feed your starter, you take a portion off. You can throw it away (it’s actually called the ‘discard’) or use it; books of sourdough cooking include myriad ‘discard recipes’. But how much better to give it away? Invite someone else to join in this beautifully messy and loving labor of making something? They can take it home—feed it, nuture it, protect it, grow it—make it their own. And now you’re connected.

I think that’s why I’m so excited about my starter.  To me it represents abundance, growth, progress, and connection.  The thing I love most is that in another week or so, I can confidently give some to my mom and my sisters, and we’ll all share something really special, something that brings us close in yet another way.  I’ll make things with it to share with my friends, and if they wish to adopt their own descendant, I will be more than happy to oblige.  So I’ll keep feeding Sven joyfully, just in case.