I have recently experienced the privilege of reconnecting with a friend I have known since my eyes could first process images. From the moment I was aware of other humans in my space, I was aware of him. Inseparable as twins, our minds seemed to work as one. The very definition of attachment, we donned diapers and danced to the sounds of blissful innocence.
We were a team built from constant exposure, shared space, and common ground. We walked through the world for the first time, investigating our surroundings with fresh eyes and clean slates. Like brothers, we spent endless hours lost in conversations far deeper than childhood superficiality should produce. It was a bond forged from the structure of the nest, warmth of the heart, and a particular sense of security that seems to disappear far too soon.
Then, an unforeseen incident positioned him back on my radar, light brightly blinking. A moment of dread followed disbelief, and feeling too far to help was like being shackled in the sand. My “brother” was suddenly walking down roads that were far too familiar. To think that someone so close could be so close to peril was alarming. I wanted to erase his pain, and picturing the panic circles spinning through his mind made things exponentially worse.
To hear that I was unconsciously giving him the support he needed when he required it most, is a gift without words.
There are times our paths are righted and our journeys realign. It is not our job to question the reasons but to embrace the adjusted course. If this moment of crisis is the catalyst to shake some sense back into our disconnected lives, I am grateful for the rattle.
Methods for quieting the chaos raging inside our heads are everywhere, but removing chemical deterrents to find some sense of tranquility through natural means is often seen as ineffective or less useful. It’s easy to slap the label of “hippie” on anything that feels unfamiliar because it happens to be rooted in something more than giant ad campaigns and pharmaceutical propaganda. But channeling the energy that’s pulsing through us is a path of least resistance that the overmedicated masses would be wise to try.
The noise and static are deafening, and the hyperactive state of modern society is no muzzle. To cut through that fog of interference, it takes discipline and focus. Steadying the breath and clearing the mind to lighten the heft of doubt, frustration, or anxiety from our shoulders is faster and far less toxic than diving into an artificial concoction of side effect-inducing sludge.
The untapped potential of the mind is a mystery we’ve been slow to unravel, but studies are showing how crucial thought can be on influencing biological assignments. From cancer treatments to regenerative tissue growth after injury, focused concentration can do wonders for the healing process. The brain is the motherboard controlling our mental and physical functions. We simply need to learn how to be better programmers.
There are certainly situations and circumstances when medication is a necessity. A meditative practice does have its limits, and a good friend of mine often comments that I believe “any malady can be cured with garlic, lemon, and sea salt.” But a move toward openness about the power of peaceful thought might slow the speed in which a doctor reaches for the prescription pad.