Transformative Prose
In my life
My patient had hypovolemic hyponatremia
His serum sodium was low, and we all need salt in our blood to live
Overall, he was dehydrated- dry, though his blood pressure was high
I looked at his moist tongue, and didn’t see the storm clouds amassing in the sky
Until my attending physician came thundering down
Pummeling my eardrums with his voice so loud
Taking lightning strikes at my fledgeling ego
Making me feel scared, small and trapped
How dare I not approach this case the same way he would
How could I take a vast constellation of data points, and see a different image than him?
How dare I not know everything he wants me to know when he thinks I should know it.
The audacity of me!
I went into this job to help people, but who helps me when confronted with an abusive boss, the way I am all day every day?
I have grit, and that’s it.
How can I justify the harm I inflict on myself by trodding this path of not harming others? Am I not also a person worthy of non-harm?
I drag myself through another day of sheer exhaustion, violent levels of stress, junk food scavenging, flooding my veins with the same poison I encourage my patients to avoid.
I practice this art of self-abuse day after day, year after year.
I don’t have the time or personal space to cry, until many hours have passed by, and my work, imperfectly executed, is temporarily done.
Tomorrow, more work will come at a nauseating pace, in unpredictable swells and storms.
Tonight, I cling to the knot I’ve tied at the end of my rope.
At home, my partner speaks to me, but I do not hear him.
He softly reaches out to me, but I do not feel his touch.
He serves me dinner, though I do not feel hunger.
I try to breathe through my shell-shock, remind myself that I am safe, worthy, lovable.
As if concussed, I feel foggy, irritable, and want only to cry.
I close my bedroom door, and I finally let my tears fall, though I don’t know how they will ever stop.
I take stock of the things I am grateful for.
I have energy to release:
I visualize a cord of light between my attending physician and I, solar plexus to solar plexus, and I send his rageful, toxic energy back to him, riddled with his scathing judgement.
I send him back the shame he so generously tried to pile on me.
That is his energy, not mine.
I feel the sting of tears as they dry on my cheek- my personal Sahara.
For a minute there, I lost myself.
I feel raw, delicate.
I cried so much, I have lost volume and salt like my hypovolemic hyponatremic patient.
This time, I know the recommended remedy: fluid.
Keeping myself fluid, I bow in respect and gratitude to the teachers on my journey- those who still trick me into believing that I am lesser-than, who make me temporarily forget that I am a dreamer in this cosmic kaleidoscope.
I bow with respect and gratitude to water, and salt.
My yoga teacher said
May you live in the heart
May you light up the dark
May you live in the now
May you flow with the Tao
May you bless up
And never come down
My yoga teacher said,
‘Our generation is the smartest one yet, we have all the information we could ever need at our fingertips, yet we still aren’t enlightened- we can’t take 3 steps without melting down’.
True, however:
What I wanted to say to my yoga teacher after class, but didn’t due to my lingering shyness was that we are in the process of becoming enlightened, and yoga teachers are an important part of the sacred process of enlightening others, whether they realize it or not:
One by one, enlightened people share their light with others
As if passing a flame from candle to candle
The glow grows without end, multiplying infinitely.
Sharing our inner light with our fellow beings does not diminish our own glow, but builds a safety net in case our own flame is temporarily blown out- we have a friendly neighbor with a bright source to rekindle us again.
Because we have paid it forward, we have propagated a culture of generosity and abundance.
Let your light shine.
Yoga is a key part of my healing journey. It has changed my relationship with myself and with the world.
To my yoga teacher, I bow in deep gratitude for how they share their light with the world.
To all teachers everywhere across time and space; thank you, and namaste.
On this long journey
between cadaver dissections and treating infections
between hand disinfections and anesthetic injections
may we pause for reflection, reconnect with our intention
may we cultivate connection, and to our loved ones, display affection
to our own needs, may we pay attention
may we vote in elections
and to injustice, voice objection
may we have predilection for self-correction,
not be afraid to change direction
may we not beat ourselves up for inevitable rejection
may we forgive ourselves our own imperfection
medicine is a practice, and we will never be perfect
but it is enough for us to be on this hero’s journey
Victory is every step
I spend my evenings dissecting out the lead bullets which you pummel into my chest throughout the day
I gingerly remove the palpable parts of your reckless barrage
Do you intend to hurt me so deeply that I must perform surgery nightly just to keep my sanity?
If I ever had any sanity to lose, that is…
Wisps of breath curl coolly around my open wounds, trying to soothe the painful sting of your attack
I am humbled by how long it takes me to heal from injuries that you were so quick to inflict
Don’t tell me you Kant follow the Golden Rule
That is the universal elixir we are all hoping for
Now I know where the true treasure is
It has been mine all along, my heart of gold
I choose to share it with the world
What will you do with your golden treasure?
Please don’t keep it buried all your life
It is already within you, yours to share whenever you wish
If only I could get this message to you somehow
I’ve sent messages in bottles before
But bottles can lead to ripples
And I’m trying to calm my water
Splash
I’m learning to dodge the lead bullets of your matrix
And melt them into gold
Treating others how you want to be treated
Is a rule that never grows old
Sage Burner Poetry 