Getting in tune

Calgary, Alberta

I’m usually pretty skeptical about New Age healing and complementary medicine -- I've always thought astrology is hooey and the couple of times I’ve gone to a naturopath seemed like a waste of time (I wouldn’t even go to a chiropractor). I prefer to stick with remedies that have been subjected to scientific research. I’m not a spiritual person, I don’t believe in a higher power, and I think I’m basically a big sack of chemicals and electrical impulses.

But it makes sense to me that such a sack is profoundly affected on a physical level by the emotions experienced in the brain that controls it. And if thinking about Paul Gross's butt can cause a physical reaction in my body, or thinking about her baby can cause a mother to produce more breast milk, or grief can cause somebody to curl up and die, then the idea that our thoughts affect our bodies and vice versa is hardly farfetched. The studies on stress hormones and the immune system are hard to ignore. Is it completely wacky to suggest, then, that our bodies might be affected by the physical properties of our surroundings? The forces of gravity teach us that they are. It wouldn’t surprise me that there are inexplicable physical ways in which we are connected to the planet and to one another.

Having gone through a bout of severe depression and anxiety a few years ago, which seemed to cause all kinds of mysterious ailments culminating in breast cancer that I persist in believing would not have grown so rapidly had my immune system not been compromised by stress, I’ve learned to understand the concept of the mind-body connection. “It’s all in your head” is no longer an excuse to me, since I think at some level most things are all in our heads, which in turn affects the rest of our bodies, which in turn affects our heads. (You wouldn’t say to a person who has broken her leg, “Oh, it’s all in your leg!”)

In any case, I’ve looked with mild interest from afar at the increasing popularity of Chinese medicine, in particular the acceptance of acupuncture by many mainstream physicians. I hear of more and more people who’ve found acupuncture effective in curing migraines, back pain, etc. I've never purposely tried it, although more than 20 years ago an osteopath in England shoved a few needles in my back without warning, which I simply found upsetting.

As it happens, I am currently renting a room in Calgary from an acupuncturist. She’s a lovely person, very generous, but her talk about chakras and meridians and chi energy was meaningless to me. When she mentioned a New Age video she wanted to watch about a healer who predicts the world is facing a physical calamity of huge proportions and that we could forestall it with positive thoughts and energy, I, uncharitably perhaps, suggested that turning off lights when you leave a room and driving your car less might be more useful than positive thoughts in preventing the impending calamity (also wacky science in the eyes of some, I know).

Last night I walked home from school. It is unusually humid in Calgary, and so my plan to be released from my hot flash nightmare here has been foiled. As usual after exerting myself in hot, humid weather, I felt dizzy, weak and a little nauseated, and was drenched with sweat. This usually passes in a few minutes (I had my heart checked out last fall -- supposedly it's fine -- and the cardiologist told me the cause of my weak spells in hot weather might be low blood pressure). But an hour later I still felt lousy. I began to wonder if it was the accumulated stress of some family pressures, taking these intensive master’s degree courses and being away from home -- my stomach was nervous and jumpy and I felt vaguely depressed.

But I’d agreed to go out to a club with some friends, so after getting ready I sat in the kitchen waiting to be picked up, wondering if I should just stay home. My landlady could tell I wasn’t feeling well; she asked to see my tongue. I showed her. She suggested that she could do some quick acupuncture on the “stomach” points on my legs. I politely declined; my friend would be showing up at any minute. Besides, I didn’t want to make myself more nervous and jumpy by subjecting myself to invasive needles when I wasn’t accustomed to such treatment.

Then she suggested something called tuning-fork therapy. Not an ancient Chinese practice, she told me, but something developed in the U.S. that would tap into vibrations or something, and could boost energy. It would only take a few minutes and was not invasive. Sure, I shrugged, completely skeptical and somewhat amused. So she got out a set of large tuning forks, explaining that the brown one was for the earth, the green one for the trees, the white for the moon. Yeah, right. She banged them on a rubber pad she had strapped around her knee for that purpose, caused them to vibrate and placed the ends of the forks at various points around my knees. I could feel the vibrations locally, but a mild feeling of well-being seemed to spread throughout my body, and in a matter of minutes I felt much better. By the time I got into my friend’s car I felt completely normal, and very calm. I had a great evening listening to a honky-tonk band in a funky little club, and stayed out till 12:30 (I rarely stay out that late, and often feel antsy and cross when I’m in a strange place till all hours with people I don’t know very well).

Placebo effect? A positive response to somebody paying attention to me? Maybe.