Becoming Buddhist

Attempting to Live a More Mindful Life


On the Advice of a Friend, Woman Writes Letter to Her Paranoid Self in a Time of Crisis

Dear BB,

Don’t be a fucking idiot. Many people lose some hearing with an ear infection and get it back just fine. You’ll be one of them. The Buddha would remind you that everything is always changing, that this—this horrible tinnitus and hearing loss—is what’s happening now. It does not mean it will be happening in a month. I know it’s been scary and all, that the other night you sat shivering and crying and saying “please make it end, please make it end” for hours all alone in bed with your ears roaring, absolutely roaring, after you read some scary stuff on the Internet, but put things in perspective: there are women being raped and murdered across the world. ISIS is terrorizing us. Ted Cruz just announced he’s running for POTUS. Your fucking ear problems are small fish. Seriously. Everyone—all the doctors—have said you will most likely regain full hearing when the infection clears up. Let’s assume that “most likely” actually means “definitely” or “100% positive” and just stop with the horrible anxiety that somehow you’ll live with tinnitus and compromised hearing for the rest of your life, okay? Don’t be an idiot. You know in two weeks you’ll look back and think, well, I knew deep down I would be okay. What was I freaking out about?

I should say—I know this illness has been absolutely the worst for you. It’s rare to get what you think will be a relatively mild cold and have it turn into a ten-day flu, complete with 102-degree fever, chills, aches, exhaustion, a racking cough, and congestion so bad that it turns into an intensely painful double ear infection after a week. I know it is doubly shitty that this all happened during your spring break, when you had big plans for that book proposal and that book revision and maybe even just a few hours puttering in the back yard without a care in the world, and instead, you spent the entire thing in bed. Yes, that sucks.

Still life with used tissues.

Still life with used tissues.

I know you’ve tried the following over the last two weeks:

Osha root tincture

Licorice root tincture

“Wellness Formula”



NyQuil (never again)


Nasal decongestant


Antibiotic ear drops

Garlic-mullein ear drops

“Xiao Chai Hu”

Lycopodium 30c (homeopathic for tinnitus)

Vitamin C

Zinc throat spray


…and none of it has worked, but still, don’t lose heart. Don’t assume that you’re going to be deaf for the rest of your life. That’s crazy!

Oh, and, I know you’ve also tried:


Hot steam

Salt water as a gargle, in the neti pot, and in the humidifier

Raw garlic


Bone broth

Acidophilus chewies

Acidophilus fancy drinks


…and you still mostly feel like crap, but seriously. Enough is enough. Take a deep breath, a hot shower, another shot of zinc, and a slow walk. Clear thy head, girl.

Remember Pema Chodron when she reminds us to think of adversity as no big deal. Remember the adage: this too shall pass.

No really, this too shall pass.




Of the Body

I’ve been thinking a lot about the mind-body connection, and about that nebulous concept of a soul and how the body is just the temple in which the soul resides or just the housing for the emotions and intellect and–how does that idea go? I’m not sure.

SNC12333I spent much of December sick. I got a cold, then a weird stomach bug, then just before Christmas, when L and I were up early to board a plane to Boston, I had to take two Advil to quell the flu-like symptoms with which I’d awoken so I could get through the flight. Back East I swore up and down that I was no longer contagious because I’d had my cold for ten days already and it was just taking a while to work its way out, but after I left, my brother reported that I’d gotten him, his wife, and my parents all sick, and I realized that I must have had back-to-back viruses (is that even possible?) and been shedding all over the place. There were a few days after New Year’s when I was well, then bam–salmonella, Noro virus, whatever it was that felled me for three.five days.

And then on Friday, on the one-year anniversary of the rupture of the ectopic pregnancy that could have killed me, I walked quickly head-first into a 4 x 4 support beam at my son’s school and got a mild concussion. Out of it, spacy, a little nauseated and with a throbbing head, I was sent home to rest, and spent much of the rest of a day in a fog.

What next? I wondered. It felt like my body was betraying me a bit.

Being a woman at my age, it feels sometimes like there’s so much physical noise to contend with even in an otherwise healthy life. In conversations with friends we talk about how we can’t get our hormones right, how we think we have an autoimmune condition, how we’re tired or our digestion sucks. We’ve sprained our ankles, we have a chronic knee injury. As parents of small children, we know only too well what it’s like to catch every virus to go around the school (and pray we miss the head lice and pinworm epidemics). Health takes up so much space, even when we’re relatively healthy. This reminds me, always, how privileged we are to know, to have health insurance, to have the means to explore our health and strive for health. To have clean water. To have lived long enough to have experienced suffering. Etc. But it also reminds me how much energy taking care of a body takes, and how much psychic energy when we’re unwell (or fearing we might be). And it makes me wonder, what’s the purpose of all that noise?

In December, we lost another family friend. She died at 47 after a 12-year battle with a rare and pernicious kind of ovarian cancer. She left behind three kids. I’m trying not to think about how many women I know who know other women in their forties with cancer. It terrifies me, is the truth. I put so much stock in my health, in eating well, in exercising, in trying to reduce my stress, all in hopes of avoiding ill health. And it amazes me how a common cold–or a concussion–can leave me depressed and fragile. What would I do if I faced cancer? Diabetes? If my husband did, or my kids? All our efforts sometimes just can’t stave off the inevitable. All this work, for example, to try to improve my fertility—with no discernible change.

I’m not trying to depress anyone, the above paragraphs to the contrary. I’m just thinking about it. Pema Chödrön reminds us that no matter what we look like, what car we drive, how much money we make, we all still have to face old age and death. Is it weird that I find that comforting? I do. It reminds me that the body will do what the body does. That life will have its path. That, in a sense, there’s no sense in worrying about our health. And yet, we do, all of us, all the time.

What would a really positive mind-body connection look like? I think about this. I think about how so much of my desire to find a spiritual practice had to do with this sensation that if something really terrible happened I wouldn’t be able to deal with it. I think about how one could get to a place, through meditation (or prayer, sure, or yoga) where one could be unattached even to huge bodily failures. I think of how my mind influences my body negatively (hypochondria, reactions to stress) and how my mind can influence my body positively (reduction of stress, calmness). And how the body, when it’s unwell, can influence the mind towards depression or anxiety. On a more mundane level, I think sometimes how great it would be if I could just eat a bagel without feeling terrible afterwards, or could drink another glass of wine without worrying so much about the next morning. Perhaps when you get so in tune with your body that you’re hyper aware of the slightest misstep, you lose some carefreeness.

What is your experience of the mind-body connection?