Category Archives: gratitude

Milestones: Learned, Liberated, and Empowered

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Happy 600th post on Healing Through Connection!

What do you celebrate today?

I vaguely recall marking the 200th post here; that was a big deal, as I had only set out to maintain this blog for one year. HTC turns nine years old this month! Thank you for indulging me in this reflection. I love most that I have documented a slow and steady personal and professional evolution here. My core values and writing mission remain unchanged, and my attitudes, approaches, and conclusions are both more convicted and somehow also softer now. Maybe it’s that I notice and embrace polarities more, and navigate them more willingly and skillfully? I definitely embrace paradox more openly and joyfully. Both of these practices make me happier, more peaceful, and a better communicator, I’m convinced.
I know some readers have followed since the beginning–what have you noticed these nine years?

Other milestones I celebrate at this writing:
50 years of life
25 years an MD
15 years at Northwestern Medicine
15 years of active, intentional inner work
10 years of intentional physical fitness training
1 year training at Ethos
18 months of romance audio immersion and community engagement
20 years of parenting, one kid flown

Here’s another marker, much darker: April 20, 2024 marks the 25th year since the mass shooting at Columbine High School. My friend’s daughter, who was 18 when she died there, would be 43 now. I have no words for this loss.

What is the point of marking any of these things? Fundamentally it is a reflection, an assessment, a way to make meaning of time, life, relationships–anything that matters to us. Looking back, seeing how far we have come, and then looking foward at how far we have yet to go–it lends perspective. I get to acknowledge some significance of my individual presence, activity, and impact, while also recognizing the utter smallness of it at the same time. And at this age, it all feels both peaceful and activating–more paradox!

Learned. I’ll think more on it, but learning may be the most rewarding thing we can do in life. And it only gets better with age, if we are paying attention, because any new acquisition–of information, knowledge, awareness, insight–is added to a synergistically cumulative body of experience that both expands and deepens exponentially over a lifetime. Marking milestones shows me how I have grown, what I have learned, and how vast the potential of human learning really is.

Liberated. The more I know, the more I know I don’t know. Rather than sparking fear or insecurity, rather than making me feel small and ineffective, this realization frees me. I can accept that everything I know is incomplete, that we’re all here doing the best we can with what we have in real time. I am liberated from thinking I can or should have all the answers–I can walk with anybody on any path, and we can figure it out as we go. My own knowledge, insights, and wisdom, however incomplete, are hard won; at this age I feel solid confidence in the skill set I have honed to acquire them. I also know that the honing will continue lifelong. Milestones mark the evidence of effort. It’s a joyous humility of sorts, anticipating recurrent lessons that may be painful, but maybe a little less so every time, and it will all ultimately make me better. Bring it.

Empowered. Happy to keep learning. Freed to acquire, apply, and share all learning in creative and collaborative ways to make my best contribution. Looking back on these milestones gives me confidence that I indeed have something to offer. The best thing I can do is use my own personal power to elevate others, to help them find and strengthen their own power. Together we can keep learning, keep growing, keep reaching, doing, making, being our best for one another.

Lots of people are having a hard time right now, so much pain and suffering all around us. Markers of joy and pain are all meaningful, all serve a purpose. Everything gained comes at a cost. This blog helps me process it all, gives me a place to reflect, record, and remember later. Nine years blogging and going strong, maybe even getting stronger. And yes, Book. *sigh* Momentum for that project ebbs and flows; the ultimate outcome is still unclear, and I’m okay with it. I have never loved writing more than I do now, so hopefully that portends something concrete for my future. It’s been nine years since the idea of publishing a book occurred to me, nine months since the writing workshop where I renewed my commitment. Let’s see when the next Book milestone occurs, eh? Exciting.

Let us mark and celebrate meaningful things more regularly and reverently, shall we? Not just milestones but inch pebbles and the like. Small wins, any progress, any connection, any epiphany, in any domain. It all matters if we care, if it’s valuable to us. And all the better if we can turn that reverent, celebratory energy into mutual uplift and rocket fuel for humanity’s journey toward ever stronger and more loving relationships.

What can we find this week to mark the next step on this path toward healing connection?


To Comfort Always

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Joseph Carey Merrick; Written by Michael Howell and Peter Ford, Narrated by Steve West

Sometimes a book affects you.

You already know parts of the story
Because it’s legend
And you know it’s sad
You just don’t know how sad
And you usually avoid such things

And then you see
That your favorite voice actor narrates the True History
And it’s also about the doctor
Who did good
By a patient, a lovely man
Whom the world had degraded and abandoned
So you decide to endure
Because you know the voice
And you trust it to shepard the account
With respect and dignity

And through the tragedy
That almost brings you to tears
Because how can people be so cruel
How can one person endure so much
And never harbor bitterness, resentment, or rage

Through all of that
The line that shines most brightly
That calls to your physician, helper, human soul
Is one you have not heard in years
When you should probably recite it yourself daily:

“To cure sometimes, to relieve often, to comfort always.”

These days people expect
Cure often if not always
Relief, when incomplete, disappoints

And Comfort, well, what does that even mean
In an age when physician-patient
Relationship is defined more and more
By transaction than by
True and deep human connection

And yet
Stories like this inspire, reassure and
Comfort us
Who do it for the connection
Because in the end
It’s worth every effort

————-

The True History of the Elephant Man: The Definitive Account of the Tragic and Extraordinary Life of Joseph Carey Merrick
Written by Michael Howell and Peter Ford
Narrated by Steve West

Due to horrible physical deformities, he spent much of his life as a fairground freak. He was hounded, persecuted, and starving, until his fortune changed and he was rescued, housed, and fed by the distinguished surgeon, Frederick Treves. The subject of several books, a Broadway hit, and a film, Joseph Merrick has become part of popular mythology. Here, in this fully revised edition containing much fresh information, are the true and un-romanticized facts of his life.

©2010 Skyhorse Publishing, Inc. (P)2012 Audible, Inc.

*I have no interests in any entities mentioned in this post


Love Letters

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Sunrise, Sylvan Dale Guest Ranch, Loveland, Colorado. Photo courtesy of Dr. Anne Dixon

When did you last write a love letter? Send it?

What constitutes a love letter in your mind?

Depending on your definition, maybe you’ve written/composed and sent them your whole life and not even known it? Sometimes I think this is the case for me… definitely lately. Without question, I have written and sent countless ‘conventional’ love letters in my 50 years. Since at least 4th grade, I have professed and proclaimed love for and to many, in words, on paper. The pretty paper and pen fetish started early, and has been put to very good use. Responses have varied; looking back now I can take it all so much more lightly than I did in my youth. Putting your heart out in the open, wow, that can be intense. Exhilarating, giddy, tremulous, brave, honest, fearful, uncertain, upright, vulnerable. I wonder how many reciprocations, in any form, it takes to make up for all of the non-responses and rejections? I suppose it depends on all the things–to/from whom, magnitude of emotion, stakes of the relationship (on my end), expectation, context, timing… So much of any experience is determined by my own mindset at the time, the stories I tell about myself and the other person. I smile (smirk? cringe?) as I write this today, even chuckle, because oh my gosh, I took and gave it all so seriously back then! *sigh* The peace and steadiness that comes with age… There is a comfortable looseness, a confidence that comes from loving over decades. Relationships come and go, dive deeply and float in turn; the fluidity of it all emerges over time, teaches me to flow with it more and more easily. Awareness and acceptance of this natural, organic rhythm liberates me to express more freely and with less attachment… and paradoxically, the rewards of reciprocation feel that much more bright and lucious!

I still have a stack of New Year cards to send. This involves colored pens, stickers, stamps, and trips to the mailbox. I love it all. I figure it’s okay if they’re late, because it’s a personal greeting, something I take time to do specifically for someone. People appreciate that. It’s a form of love letter, I have decided, and when does anyone not want that?

Lately friends have sought me for reflection and advice. Our conversations are heartfelt and connecting. What an incredible honor for me, to be trusted so. I take that very seriously, to be sure. But the feeling in these exchanges is not heavy. Rather, it’s deep, close, bonding, meaningful. I find myself writing summaries and reflections afterward, hundreds of words’ worth. I feel a need to document and share back, to verify the thoughts, impressions, values, and goals; I want us both to record the integrity, affirm our own relationship and shared humanity with others in our lives. It’s not a high or rush I get from these encounters. It feels slower, an unfolding, shared in confidence, soft tones and close proximity, even if over the phone. These summary ‘love letters’, as I have come to think of them, are meant to reinforce what I see as my friends’ strengths of character, their core values, and the resulting alignment of their goals and actions. I keep these missives for myself, as well, because the connection nourishes me at least as much as it may help my friends.
They are love letters.

As seen on Instagram

I still love this meme so much. What a simple and moving reminder about what’s nost important in life–our relationships. The best part is that when I send the text, drop the card, and leave the voice message (all love letters), just the act itself feeds me already, whether or not a response ever comes. Giving love begets yet more love–the threshold potential for this positive feedback loop is so low, it’s a wonder we don’t walk around eurphoric all the time, just from feeling love for others, HA!

For every executive physical, I debrief with my patient at the end of the day. We review biometric data and test results. This discussion includes an Action Plan, in which the dietician, exercise physiologist, and I make health behavior recommendations in the context of the person’s current life circumstances. Travel, phase of family life (eg little kids vs young adults, empty nests, and aging parents), work role/stress/status–anything relevant to their health is assessed and factored for specificity to person, place, and time (hint: everything is relevant). Over the years, and the past year especially, I reflect on patients’ goals, fears, and values in all domains of life, in addition to body mass and fasting glucose. I talk about relationships, a lot. New patients seem surprised–most often pleasantly, sometimes not… I can attune and dial back if needed. Without fail, however, the more someone discloses, the more we share (because there is always two-way sharing), the more meaningful and dense my action plans get, the more I get to love on these patients, I have only recently realized. It’s okay if they don’t accept it–not everybody wants to feel loved by their doctor. For those who do, however, I am all in…and the rewards are exponential, at least for me.

I see you.
This is what you mean to me.
This is what I wish for you.

Every time we express these, when we convey them to someone we care about, then I say we have sent a love letter. I personally value the handwritten kind most–the swoop and pressure of writing implement, the acutely vulnerable yet high potential permanence of paper, someone’s thoughts and feelings in a particular time and place, documented so concretely, tactilely–to hold, see, and smell it all at once–the uplift almost defies description.

If you seek inspiration for your own love writing, I recommend two men whose work I admire:

Grant Gosch writes sensual missives and posts with accompanying black and white photographs that stir body and soul. Follow him @saltfox_writer on Instagram. You can receive his Saturday morning love letter via email; subscribe at http://www.grantgosch.com. I am 80% through his first novel, Kingfisher Lane, and may very well bold it on my 2024 list. Additionally, Grant offers commissioned love letters in exchange for monetary support of his writing–believe me, this is high value. I have no financial interests in Grant’s work. I simply admire that he puts his heart out in the world, to connect and write on behalf of any of ours. He is a gifted writer, possessed of highly attuned and effective emotional-verbal integration, offered to us from the wilds of the Pacific Northwest.

JP Greene also writes on love and life with eloquence, heat, and edge. Follow him on Insta: @typewrittenlovenotes. JP also offers a weekly newsletter, sent from Fort Collins, Colorado, written thoughtfully and with purpose. His second book, The Beauty of Sadness, drops on April 4. I have no interests in JP’s work, either, other than to amplify it because I think the world is better for his expression.

Funny that both of these writers choose to present their work on paper, typed old school on machines that deliver ink via ribbon. I imagine that is why their work, among other reasons, resonates so deeply with something in me. Kindred.

Love letters. When and what will you send next?

Also from Instagram, can’t recall source, sorry!