How do thoughts affect reality?
I am a firm believer in mind-over-matter.
I mentioned in the post about Reason and Faith that I used to be a diviner, but I chant to find the answers within. I’m not into just asking the universe for stuff without giving something first.
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I actually mentioned this in LJ before, as it actually happened, but I’ll recount it here for the purpose of this project: My second year in art school, I was under an intense amount of stress. Between the lack of sleep, constantly losing time, the ludicrous workload in my classes, my financial aid going tits up, and my dad being stressed out and taking it out on me, I stressed myself sick. It didn’t help that I was eating fast food 3 times a day for a year due to budget constraints (I still won’t touch the stuff). I formed a hellacious case of GERD, which was at first mistaken as an ulcer because of my symptoms. I vomited pure acid several times a day. My burps were loud, violent and painful. One night, I went to the ER out of desperation. I couldn’t go 5 minutes without another burp full of blood and wrenching stomach pain: something HAD to be done. After 7 hours, they told me I had GERD, I was given Reglan and they gave me a new diet that should not bother my stomach. The list of things I could eat was a hell of a lot shorter than the list of things I could. I could have unseasoned baked ham or chicken, some vegetables, plain bread, and water. Nothing acidic, no beef, no sugar, no caffeine, no garlic, no spices of any kind, the list goes on. You’d be amazed at how much food has citric acid or high fructose corn syrup added to it.
Even on the meds, I was still sick as a dog. I couldn’t sleep through the pain. Hunger and food was a constant struggle. If I ate too little, my stomach crippled me with pain. If I ate too much, I’d also be in pain, but I’d likely throw up. Finding that perfect medium was next to impossible. I was literally starving.
It turned out that there’s a large array of Japanese cuisine that made the diet’s cut. The only thing that I had time to make that didn’t bother my stomach at all was miso soup. It was wonderful. After one week, I passed out from malnutrition. It wasn’t enough sustenance. Too good to be true.
As you can guess, three months of this, and my metabolism crashed. Even though I was starving I was gaining weight. One day, I was on an empty metro, eating a sandwich that met every criteria. It was exactly the size and weight that should have been the perfect portion. I didn’t even make it off the train before I got sick. I threw everything I was carrying to the floor and screamed “FUCK THIS. If I’m going to get sick WHEN I’M FOLLOWING THE FUCKING RULES… If I’m going to get sick anyway, then I’m going to eat whatever the hell I want!”
By then, my taste for fast food had completely gone away, so I was generally eating pretty healthy. Not long after, my FA situation was remedied, I reconciled with my father, and the school quarter was over. I stopped vomiting. For the next decade, I avoided spicy food, tons of garlic and beef in quantities of more than 2 oz. I discovered that as long as I kept stress levels down, my GERD was easily managed.
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I had a friend from high school that had a heart defect. The doctors told his parents he wouldn’t make it past eight years old. He died in his mid-twenties, and I argue that it was from a broken heart: his long term girlfriend was struck by a hit and run and killed a year prior.
My grandparents existed for each other. The things that my grandfather sucked at, my grandmother excelled at, and vice versa. To have a relationship like theirs has always been a goal of mine. A year after my grandfather died, my grandmother got sick, we moved her up to DC, and she gave up the will to live. She wanted to be with him. A month after the suicide talk, she went into the hospital, and died slowly. We’re still not sure what exactly did her in, since she had high grade b cell lymphoma, and a trillion complications. I think her soul was crushed at the loss of her second half.
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Isn’t the concept of The Secret supposed to be better living through positive thinking? It’s generally a Buddhist way of thinking too. While depression is not a choice, happiness is.
There was a member who lived in this district worth noting. Her husband had been addicted to drugs, and he recovered. People in her life that got sick became well again. She had a garbage job, but she was promoted and the new job was no longer garbage. And all because she was always cheerful, no matter what. She always thought positively. She was always loving and caring and happy: it was infectious. Her coworkers spoke highly of her: “It’s 4am and she comes in grinning from ear to ear and too energetic and cheerful for her own good. It’s annoying at first, but damn if it didn’t rub off on the rest of us.” Now she lives at some amazing compound in the middle of the desert in Arizona, off the grid and happy as ever, dedicating her life on spreading happiness. Everyone in the district, herself included, praise “Nam yo ho renge kyo” more than the drive and ambition and positivity that she exuded.
My father commented once that he really looked up to her, that he wanted the kind of rags-to-riches kind of story that she did. And he became a better Buddhist. He got higher paying gigs for work, and now he is aware of when he is being unreasonable and when not to take anger out on his family. Her influence made my life at home extraordinarily better.
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I will always be cynical. Sure, I try to keep in touch with my whimsical side from time to time, but I am ever the critic, then cynic, the pessimist. I don’t know if it’s something I know how to keep “in check”.