The Sound of Silence

My little slice of Sierra heaven

I am looking out on a Sierra thunderstorm…grey skies, deep green pines, and cherry-sized wet splotches on the grey distressed wooden deck. A short while ago the sky was torn in two by blazing flashes of lightening, and moments later, the ground shook and my ears buzzed from the explosive thunder. The sound was especially harsh since my ears had adapted to the quiet surroundings. I can’t remember the last time that I was surrounded by deafening silence. One can actually hear the air. The sudden cacophony isn’t from honking horns or blaring car radios or incessant cell-phone babble, but from the chatter of chipmunks.

I had forgotten what this precious commodity, silence, sounded like.

Apartment living, though (in my case) cheap and convenient, comes with the hidden price-tag of constant din. Poor insulation holds this clamor inward. I, unwillingly, know more about my neighbors than my family members. There is no such thing as private conversations, or private anything else for that matter.

I looked forward to returning to the mountains to escape all obligations and to just write. I had forgotten about the silence. After a few short days I have become addicted to it. I remember this great gift of Maine life several years ago. Blankets of snow for five months a year kept away not only Boston weekenders, but noise as well. Silence fed my soul in ways that other sustenance could not.

Our world is so fast-paced, so busy, so over-crowded, so noisy, that we completely lose sight of not only what is normal but, also, what is essential.

We are finally being reminded of the necessity of enough sleep—to our physical, mental and emotional health—but this warning, in itself, is hypocritical. When we live in a society that expects us to do more and more, that, in fact, rewards us for doing more and more, it becomes near-impossible to get enough sleep. And then everyone suffers the consequences. In medical school I rotated through the team of renowned heart surgeon Michael DeBakey. They were quick to inform us of how little sleep he needed throughout his entire life. During my hospital residency program even though we all tried to cover for one another because we knew how vitally important sleep was, the person who could get by with the least amount of sleep was still the most respected. Additionally, we, as women, felt too guilty having our colleagues cover for us—so most of us wouldn’t allow ourselves to sleep longer even though our colleagues were ready and willing.

Before you conclude that this is just a medical training phenomenon, look at your own life. Most women are running faster and faster, doing more and more. Sleep is a luxury most cannot afford. If we are unable to get enough sleep, then how can we even entertain thoughts of experiencing silence? And yet, we must. There is nothing that pulls us farther out of ourselves than noise and the business of life.

So how are we to experience silence? Many of you are already doing this, perhaps through your meditative practice.

For those of you who need a bit of support, or who do not live in a naturally quiet place (I empathize!), here are a few simple tips that may help you out in your busy noisy lives:

1. The most essential step is the first one, which is to recognize the importance of silence and value it enough to consciously seek it out. This is also the most difficult step, the one on which most of us stumble. You will only recognize its importance when you experience its benefits—so it’s a chicken-and-egg dilemma.

2. If you do not live in a quiet space then, if possible, make time to transport yourself to one. I have found that nothing works better than the real thing. It might be a walk along the beach or in a quiet neighborhood or park. You may have to go a distance and then leave your transportation behind. You may make the journey there part of your exercise—such as walking or riding a bike.

3. If you can designate a quiet space inside your home, then do so. If you have small children then this may need to be something you do early in the morning or late at night. Or, if your children are small and take naps, during their naps.

4. If there is no quiet place in your home (join the crowd!) then take advantage of quiet times. For me that might mean 3:00am. Of course, this may interfere with your sleep, but for those of you who wake up in the middle of the night—this may be the perfect time (and solution) for you. Use this time! (This happens to be my most productive time to write.)

5. If none of the above is an option then reserve protected time and a protected space. You may use noise-cancelling headphones, or play a meditative tape or music quietly through headphones. This is not the same as experiencing complete silence, but it will get you to the same place.

6. Clear out the other “noises” in your life. If your space is dirty, clean it up! If it is cluttered, clear it out! If your physical body is sluggish, eat nutritiously and exercise! If you’re in a bad relationship, leave it. Get rid of all of the other things that are creating noise in your life. It is near-impossible to find silence within if we are surrounded by everything but! It’s never late for spring-cleaning.

Remember, every place or space has its own energy. If you have chosen to live in a place that is inherently noisy, cluttered or hectic, you will have to devote more time and energy to creating that quiet protected space for yourself.

Happy Sound of Silence!

Now, listen to Simon and Garfunkel: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hUy9ePyo6Q

Blessings

Okay. I’m going to ask a very trite question…drum roll…when was the last time that you counted your blessings?

I’m not a mom, but I had a small taste of the chauffeur service that those of you who are parents provide constantly for your kids. Only I was the kid driving my parents around. This rarely happens. They both must be incapacitated for me to be the designated driver. But with my dad one week post-op and my mom scheduled for a minor procedure, I drove them down to the medical center twice for three different appointments in six hours. A taste of what is to come? I doubt it. My parents, at 78 and 80, are both in remarkably good health.

Within a ten day period, between the two of them, they went through one surgical procedure, one medical procedure, one post-op complication, one trip to the emergency room and four medical appointments. That sounds like a lot, but in fact, all is well. I realized today that by getting caught up in the busy-ness of it all I had forgotten the most important point—they are both fine! In fact, they are two of the healthiest folks at their ages that I know.

Add to this countless smaller blessings, such as my unemployed status allowing me to be available for them. From there the list goes on and on.

As a matter of fact, my list is filled with nothing but blessings. In the midst of the worst financial crisis in my lifetime, a potential career change, complete uncertainty regarding my future, I’m as happy as a clam. I hear my inner critic retorting-- yeah, happy and stupid!

So, at the beginning and/or end of the day, why not take a few moments to count your blessings? Gratitude opens the heart and gets us all moving together in the right direction. If this seems like just one more task, then start small. Day 1: acknowledge just one blessing, Day 2: acknowledge two…and so on until however many you want. Or, alternatively, you could just acknowledge one each day, or each time you think of it—like when you’re stopped at a red light or stuck in traffic. Eventually this will become second nature and you will be focused on your blessings so frequently that you will begin to live in a state of gratitude.

It’s pretty amazing how just one thought of gratitude is enough to shift the whole day in the direction of support and healing. Before you know it, you will literally get high from expressing your appreciation to others, which will in turn ripple out to affect a wider and wider group of people. Remember, this isn’t about putting on a fake happy face. This is about the truth of how we choose to live our lives.

Happy Blessings!

Lost and Found in Linear Time

I listened to Caroline Myss today; she was discussing stepping out of linear time. I’m also reading Leslie Keenan’s book, It’s About Time. And I just saw the season finale of Lost…so ,I thought, this must be the right time to discuss time.

I recently realized that midlife has much more in common with adolescence than just hormones. Sure, my face has been breaking out, and it’s the first time in thirty years that I’ve had to watch my weight. But, I also find my mind drifting back to my younger years. As a child I had (the illusion of) huge blocks of unscheduled time. I would read for days, often staying up all night to finish dime store romances. My family spent three months each summer at our mountain cabin. I played the piano for hours on end. I lost track of time and seemed to have all the time in the world. My mother was careful not to fill our childhood days. My heart constricts and I become short of breath when my friends list the activity-packed lives of their children. More is better, structure is better has even hit our preschools. Little three and four-year old lives are filled with organized controlled stations forcing them to “play” in socially-specified ways.

Linear time monopolized my life from medical school onward. To be honest, for eight years, I didn’t have a life. After I completed my residency, I attempted to recreate what I had as a child…three months off annually. I worked part-time and traveled to Greece, but eventually ended up in a high-powered full-time position that just about ended me. As soon as I completed my board exams and paid back my student loans (which took only two highly-motivated years) I moved to Maine. There, I worked part-time and, with the help of the four seasons, slowed down. Once again I was reading, practically every night. I was meditating, shamanic journeying, learning from mystics, immersing myself in nature, and living the hermetic life. I loved it. I was reminded of something…me! Then I moved to Greece and became a hermit of a different sort, surrounded by community.

When I returned to California, four years later, linear time once again took over my life. It wasn’t until I hit forty-nine that I suddenly yearned to travel backwards. At midlife, my life once again stood still.

The Greeks have different words for different types of time. Leslie Keenan discusses these different types of time in her wonderful book, It’s About Time. Many Americans are aware of only one type of time, linear time. Many not only live without silence, but may actually prefer constant noise. Just as stillness is more uncomfortable than movement, silence is more uncomfortable than noise.

I love stillness. I love quiet. It may make me a difficult neighbor, but it feeds my soul. If you are running non-stop, if you fall asleep before you can complete your prayers, if quiet and stillness make you uncomfortable, if you are one of those people who asked me what I did for eighteen months when I lived in Greece, or if I was bored or lonely when I lived in Maine, then you may be missing out on important gifts from non-linear time—regenerative capabilities, intuitive and archetypal wisdom, spiritual guidance, creative birthing, lightening-speed change--just to name a few.

Just consider for one non-linear moment, time as multidimensional, collapsing on itself. Think circle rather than straight line; then think 3-4-5-dimensional. Think folds—like genetic structures. Think past lives, archetypal experiences, different times cycling back on each other. Think the TV show Lost this last season. And if you did happen to see Lost, remember what happened to the characters that were passing through time too rapidly…that’s right…bloody noses and headaches, followed by death! Packing more and more into linear time has the same devastating effects as jumping rapidly from point to point in time. Both result in our being lost in time. If all we get are bloody noses or migraine headaches, then we’re getting off easy.

If you happen to be lost in linear time, the following are a few places where you may be found:

1. Become aware of your breath (never seems to work for me, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t work for you!)
2. Focus on your senses (Come to your senses!)
3. Focus on now—not past, not future
4. Immerse yourself in something you love, something you’re passionate about, or with someone you love or are passionate about.
5. Connect with nature
6. Receive body work—massage, acupuncture, or other forms of energy work
7. Practice regression hypnotherapy
8. Create a meditation or prayer practice
9. Be still; be quiet
10. Create rituals

Recommended resources:

1. Caroline Myss’ upcoming book Defy Gravity, Hay House Radio Sacred Contract talks, and websites: http://www.myss.com/ and http://www.hayhouseradio.com/
2. Leslie Keenan’s book It’s About Time
3. Eckhart Tolle’s book The Power of Now
4. Current season of Lost
5. Brian Weiss’ books such as Many Lives Many Masters and his regression CDs, such as Spiritual Progress Through Regression

My favorite ways to step out of linear time (not in any particular order):

1. Taking a walk
2. Prayer, stillness, quiet
3. Regression meditation
4. Listening to music
5. Playing the piano
6. Reading a good book
7. Traveling to Greece
8. Writing
9. Yoga
10. Spending time with special friends and family (especially children!)

Step out of linear time and find yourself!

What Are You Creating?

This post begins with a warning. My family already knows the drill…if you hang out with a writer, prepare to be a part of the content. Before you go running off or before you pick up your cell phone to dial your attorney, let me reassure you, none of you will be identified by name…but from where else do we writers get our material? And I would also like to take this opportunity to thank you for such great content!

Honestly though, if it is posted here then it’s a universal observation, and I’m hoping that by addressing it, others will find it useful. So, here I go…

Yesterday I was at a work reunion of sorts. In my opinion, it was the best possible form that a work reunion could take. It was a loving, joyful event that brought a busload of Ob/Gyns together…a baby shower!! And not just any baby shower. This blessed baby has two of the most wonderful parents in the world—and both are Ob/Gyns! Anyway, I was in heaven. It’s, sadly, quite rare to see such amazing families being created. So many people end up as parents before they’re ready or without consciously choosing to be parents. In our profession, this is a daily event. So it’s heaven when it all works out. (I don’t think they know yet, but I’m planning on hanging out at their house—that’s where all the action is gonna be…it looked like they still have a spare bedroom…but probably not for long—I better grab it quick…everyone is gonna want to be there!)

So, I’m at this heavenly event and the first question everyone asks me is, “Where are you now?” I’m the gypsy Doc; I never stay in one place very long—so I’m asked this question even when I’m not answering a cell phone, even when the person asking the question is standing right in front of me. I’ve always been tempted to respond, “I’m standing right in front of you. Do you need a new lens prescription?” But that would be rude, so I restrain myself and answer, I’m currently unemployed (don’t tell them too much…create some drama...) Their next question is, “What are you doing?” I love answering, “I’m writing three books,” and watching their reactions. It was so much fun! I could almost see their unlived dreams reflected in their eyes. Awesome!

I’ve never liked that question, “What are you doing?” It always implies that I should be doing something, or be doing something else. When I got back from living abroad in Greece without practicing medicine, I was asked, “What did you do for eighteen months?” Even when I reassured them that there was plenty to do, my life was full, the doubt didn’t leave their eyes. Although I know that this question is usually asked without judgment and with curiosity, I can’t help but feel the need in our society for everyone to be doing something, and that something had better be something acceptable. Welcome to the western world.

The question I prefer, instead, is, “What are you creating?” This is a great question, the pay dirt question. It’s the question I love to answer. It’s usually the same question that many have pat answers for, or, if they really understand the question, will uncomfortably wiggle out of answering.

But it seems like the appropriate question for a baby shower. After all, these two wonderful colleagues of ours are creating a child, a wonderful--most likely, given his parents--brilliant child, who will make all of our lives better. What a tremendous gift, their creation. I mean, who can compete with that? Do we all shy away from that question, because we understand what it entails? Or is it just too painful for so many of us to face? Fortunately, everyone who knows me has gotten used to this discomfort—some even look forward to asking me what I’m doing. It’s their five-minute opportunity to think about the parts of themselves that they’ve put on hold, where they are in their lives. Heck, maybe they might even have a dream that night about their next creation that is waiting in the wings.

This question also brings up all of the conflicts. Too many of us are unaware of what we are unconsciously creating, and this gets us into loads of trouble. If we live in our minds, which seems to be our only socially-acceptable home, then it isn’t too long before physical symptoms surface. Not making our creations conscious, leaving things up to chance, letting nature take its course…these are all recipes for disaster.

Creating is an essential part of our nature. It occurs regardless of whether or not it is conscious.

What are you creating? What do you want to create; what do you choose to create? This could be the most powerful, fulfilling journey of your life. And next time you’re invited to answer the question, “What are you doing?” consider instead answering the unspoken question, “What are you creating?”

Happy Creating on the day dedicated to our Earthly Creators!

Happy Mother's Day!

Follow this link for creating inspiration: Jennifer Lin on Oprah

Creating Meditation

Whether we wish to create space in our lives for prayer, meditation or quiet time, all of us need a protected time and place to unwind, regroup, and reconnect with the Divine. With everything and everyone pulling us in every possible direction, we all long to return to our center. Here are a few simple suggestions to help you create meditation-balance in your lives.

1. Pick a protected place where you will be undisturbed.

2. Create a consistent dependable time, when you are neither too tired nor too wound up to relax without falling asleep.

3. Commit to a regular practice, slowly building up length of practice over time.

4. It may be best to avoid lying down, as you may drift off to sleep.

5. If you are on the go, or simply too hyped-up to relax, then consider a walking meditation outside, surrounded by nature. Ideally, find a place where your feet touch the natural (unpaved) ground.

6. Stick with it, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

7. If you are outside, engage all of your senses. Smell the air, feel the earth beneath your feet, listen to the wind and to the birds, notice the different colors and textures.

8. If the calmly sit by the edge of the river and serenely watch your thoughts flow by technique is not working, try a waterfall, instead. This works for some of you more dramatic types, or those of you who, literally, have a lot to let go of—people, attitudes, emotions, relationships, beliefs. Visualize whatever you’re letting go of at the top of Niagara Falls and then watch with excitement as it/they plunge dramatically into the raging waters below. If you do this long enough, eventually the sense of excitement and drama dissipates. (I have fun with this one!)

9. Remember to begin/end with a blessing and gratitude.

10. Enjoy this time! You’ll be amazed at how many problems get solved, how many solutions appear, and how many creations manifest when you step out of linear time into this space between space.

You Can Do It Too!

I was just treated to a Saturday at the Louise Hay “I Can Do It” conference in San Diego this last weekend. It was packed full of goodies…lots of information, fun and healing. I wanted to share with you just a couple of the many gems.

For those of you who would like to access your intuition to obtain useful information regarding your health and life decisions, and for those of you who are already able to gain access but don’t know how to use this information, I strongly recommend Dr. Mona Lisa Schulz’s latest book, The Intuitive Advisor. If you don’t know anything about Mona Lisa, you are in for a treat. She wears several different very colorful hats simultaneously. Not only is she one of the most brilliant people that I have ever met, both hemispheres of her brain are doing double duty. First, she is a double doctor. She has a medical degree and has trained as a Psychiatrist. She also has a Ph.D. in Psychoneuroimmunology. Oh, and did I mention that she is also a medical intuitive? This means that with your name and age only, she is able to “read” your emotional and physical health and link the two. Being a research scientist, she has been on a mission to understand intuition both scientifically and experientially. In The Intuitive Advisor, she takes an extremely complex subject and makes it straight-forward, easily understandable and extremely useful. Whether you want to learn the basics about intuition or wish to access this wonderful feminine gift, this book is a great place to start. Her website is: http://www.drmonalisa.com/ . Happy healing!

Whatever you may believe about past lives, Dr. Brian Weiss’ regression meditations are fantastic tools to access information about past experiences, beliefs and the archetypal world. Dr. Weiss also trained as a Psychiatrist and worked extensively as a research scientist. While using hypnotherapy techniques that he had learned during his training, one of his patients regressed all the way back into a previous life, thus changing the direction of his life. He has written several books and has several Regression Meditation CDs available. I would recommend starting with Spiritual Progress Through Regression. His website is: http://www.brianweiss.com/ . Happy travels!

Red Poppies, Greek Easter

It’s Greek Easter again. One would think that after traveling to Greece annually for nineteen years I would have experienced Greek Easter on many occasions, but, in fact, I only did so once. I usually travel to Greece in the Fall, so to witness April was rather unusual. It happened the year that I lived in Greece. I was hanging out in Athens for the long cold wet winter. I wasn’t prepared, even though I had been forewarned. When my friend, a former American turned Greek native, discovered that I had left my long silk underwear behind, she advised me to contact my parents and have them send it immediately. I didn’t believe her. Surely after living two years in Maine, I would know when that extra layer was necessary. After all, Athens shared a similar climate with California. This was going to be a piece of cake, or so I thought...

When the hurricane hit, it took out two of three Athenian power towers, and with them went the electrical grid of the entire city. Soon after, shortages followed--shortages of batteries and candles, bunsen burners and fresh foods. Worse yet, I was ill--so I was confined to my apartment. My only unexpected benefit from this challenging situation was weight loss from the under-advertised but highly effective hurricane diet. That, and the free water show outside my window--Niagara Falls rushing off the top of the gymnasium roof and pounding onto the pavement below.

It was dark. It was cold. I was sick. It felt like the Apocalypse. This was not how I had envisioned the world’s last days; where was the fire?

When the electricity finally returned, we had rolling blackouts. This takes on a different significance in Greece. Water heaters are not on automatic cycling. You must turn on the electrical circuit fifteen minutes prior to your bath in order to avoid glacial waters. So when the light in the hallway went on, no matter what the time, that was my cue to flip on the hot water circuit, and, shortly after, to take my bath.

I remembered all of this a few months later during Easter week (called “The Great Week” by Greeks). The coming of Easter that year was more dramatic than any other year. After all, it was the first time that I had survived an apocalypse. Rebirth was no longer an abstract concept; it embodied its physicality. I had decided to travel north to Volos to spend Easter with my friend’s family. This meant a five-hour bus drive from Athens through the twin sister of California’s central valley. This was pre-iPods and text messages. I had run out of English books long ago, and my Greek wasn’t quite good enough to follow the circulating gossip. Were the two yia yias (grandmothers) discussing the beets they had cooked that morning or the window shutters that needed to be repainted? Were they talking about their eyeglasses or their homemade lentil soup? (My apologies to non-Greek speakers)

So while turning to look out a grungy window, I prepared myself for the familiar, boring, dried-out, wheat-colored landscape. My astonished in-drawn breath grabbed the attention of the middle-aged woman sitting in front of me. She quickly glanced out her window too, paused, and then shook her head, as if to say what did this woman find so captivating? Is she a foreigner who is mesmerized by even the dullest Greek scene? The same type who squeals at her first site of the Acropolis, or finds evil eye pendants so beguiling? Strange, I didn’t think she was a foreigner…she looks Greek, she speaks Greek…maybe she’s just crazy…

I was too excited by my own, apparently private, viewpoint to care about her thoughts. Stretched out in a rotating fan to eternity was a sea of blood-red poppies, strikingly sprinkled against the stark neutral background. Infinite thoughts flooded my mind…rebirth…the blood of Christ…the never-ending dazzling display of the sharp contrast of Grecian elements…the cyclical triumph of the earth’s life-giving force. Too many thoughts to digest. In that infinite moment, the universal symbolism of Easter came, as so many messages do, through the physicality of this land that I had come to love.

I wish all of you a Happy Rebirth!

Καλό Πάσχα!

"Walk Like a Man. Talk Like a Man."

I’m feeling discouraged today, discouraged by the old stuff that women hang onto. My generation has had to try so hard to make it in the male world that we’ve taken on the same imbalances. We’ve learned to value independence to the extreme. We had to, because it was what was respected and expected. It has surprised me, especially when I encountered this in the medical field. One would think that we would naturally ask one another for help, that we would work together. Wasn’t that the advantage of working within a group of physicians? But my residency experience was just the opposite. Although we as residents would help one another, we were expected to do it all on our own, often times juggling several different roles. For example, when we covered labor and delivery at night in our hospital, we were responsible for all of the admitted laboring patients, the evaluation of urgent pregnant patients, and all of the gynecological, prenatal and postpartum in-house patients. This amounted to a lot of patients. There was one other resident in house, covering gynecological emergencies and surgeries, and an attending physician; however, the more we could do without their help, the better.

In retrospect, it was a bit ridiculous. This plan was justified by the fact that it was essential that we learn how to prioritize, that it would prepare us for similar circumstances in the future. Some defended this system by citing the additional experience the sheer volume would provide us over a specified number of years--four, in this case.

I remember, though, what bothered me the most --when women did not help other women. Thankfully, this was rare. I worked with a group of excellent female physicians and ancillary staff, who were very supportive. Occasionally, however, there would be a woman who worked in the hospital that treated the female residents worse than the male residents. Today, I spoke with a Greek friend who is doing his surgical residency in Scotland. He reminded me of this when he said that his fiancée is experiencing the same discriminatory behavior from some of the female nurses at their hospital. This is still happening, twenty years later.

We, as women, have taken the masculine trait of independence to the extreme. We are threatened by and in competition with other women, still. Some part of us continues to believe that it is better if we do it all on our own, without anyone’s help. Then, when we have accomplished an extraordinary amount, we hesitate to extend a hand to another woman, because we are still competing and because we sacrificed so much to achieve our goals. This is such a strange unnatural behavior for women. I understand why it has happened, but it saddens me immensely.

I could not have survived my medical training if it weren’t for my two female friends, who were also residents. They saved my life.

Nothing great has ever been accomplished alone. What will it take before we trust one another again?

I thank all of you, women and men, who have trusted me and supported me. None of my accomplishments in life would have occurred without you. More important, you have kept me sane and made my goals meaningful.

Craving Greece

So for all you Hellenophiles—you must be wondering where the posts are about Greece.

I’ve been caught up in the craziness of everyday American life. Without constant communication with my Greek friends, Greece would seem far, far away. What can I say? I miss Greece. I miss walking down the street and being seen as a woman first and as a doctor…well…never!

I miss the lack of anonymity that wears off after the first twenty-four hours, the Greek interest in all my personal details. The list goes on: the easy acceptance of death and decay, the cacophony (Greek for “bad voice”) of the farmers market, the crazy taxi drivers who are relentless multitaskers—trying, still, to rip me off while asking me out, the constant “good” greetings--“good day,” “good afternoon,” “good evening,” “good night," “good trip," “good appetite,” and the constant blessings—“to your health,” “to our health,” “with health”—for everything from street salutations to the purchase of new shoes to a toast over ouzo. I even miss the unwelcome advances from anyone male, aged eight to eighty. Once in Athens, in just under an hour, I was approached by a ten-year old boy, two police officers, a shop owner and a business man. I quickly glanced down to make sure that I hadn’t left any pieces of clothing at home—but, no, they were all there.

I miss the constant comments about my un-dyed hair, followed rapidly by criticisms of George Bush and our country’s propensity to bomb their neighbors. Some days, when I’m really bad off, I long for a position in the middle of the yelling matches on the buses or in the street, the ones that make you think that someone is going to end up in the ground before the driver gets to your stop. Then you listen carefully and discover that they’re relating something insignificant about their motorbike, or brand of cigarettes, or cell phone. Not anger, just passion.

I miss most the blue, blue sea, the fierce sun, and the white rocky cliffs studded with short stubby pine trees. I yearn to lay on marble stones at Delphi. I ache to see the moonlight. I long for time that slows down…then stops… and an earth into which my feet sink, where I become heavy, grounded. Yes, this is what I desire.

I crave the collapse of linear time, past, present and future converging into my center.

Who is Fighting for Her Feminine?

I was disheartened today. I witnessed another pre-teen girl stressing out about her body image. This girl is beautiful, normal height, not overweight. I cried. Has so little changed in our culture?

I relived my distress at the age of eleven. Because I am of Middle-Eastern descent I have more dark body hair than almost every woman I’ve examined. We’re talking thousands of women. I remember, at the age of eleven, asking my mother if I could shave my legs. She, thankfully, not only put the electric razor in my hand but made my father, who is fairly non-communicative, tell me how beautiful my newly shaven legs looked. His positive comment carried so much weight that I remember it still.

Over the years, I grew tired of all of the unwelcome responses. One teenage boy was fascinated by the blonde hair on my arms that didn’t match the dark hair on my head. I was too embarrassed to tell him that I had bleached it. When I became an adult, the reactions from ignorant men were no better. The male family practice resident at my medical school clinic, who fit me for a diaphragm, gave me an unsolicited warning. He thought he was doing me a favor when he told me that I would probably have difficulty conceiving, this because he wasn’t used to seeing women whose hair growth was due to ethnicity. He didn’t bother to ask the other appropriate questions, such as the regularity of my periods, but, instead, assumed that I had an endocrine disorder. I did not escape our cultural ignorance until I landed in Greece. Thank goodness for Greece! There I wasn’t alone, and no one thought me less beautiful or less desirable because I happened to have hairy arms.

I remembered all of this today when I felt this lovely girl’s pre-pubescent pain.

We are still failing miserably if our girls continue to be so hypercritical of their body image. We’ve been aware of this problem for decades. We have even structured groups around this, but we are still failing. What do we need to do to ensure that our daughters know that they are beautiful? What do we, their role models, need to change about our own self-image? How can we guarantee that our message is stronger than the cultural one? Why are we willing to lose our girls to the societal message that they are not good enough just the way they are?

I would love to hear some of the ways that you celebrate your girls, just as they are. How are you honoring their entrance into womanhood? Are there significant women and men in your daughter’s, grand-daughter’s, or niece’s life that you have recruited to reinforce her internal and external beauty?

Who is fighting for her feminine?