My friends and I are all in our mid-60s and I am the healthiest one of the bunch. This is so even though Brenda works out and relentlessly maintains her weight ... even though LeAnn is a speed walker ... even though Blythe walks, swims and bike rides. LeAnn and Blythe have never smoked; Brenda quit 30 years ago.
Meanwhile, there is me – a plump, mostly sedentary, self-indulgent smoker. I take fewer medicines than them. I have fewer aches and pains than them. I go to the doctor less often than them. (Not to say I couldn’t keel over tomorrow.)
I’ve always had a Healing Place and I assumed everyone did until I came to realize that most people appear to be unaware of the vital link between mind and body and the ways they cooperate for good health. It seems most people suffer through an ailment or turn themselves over to a doctor. Either-or.
When I go to bed at night, I count backwards from 21 (which is simply a relaxation technique). At one, I ask to go to The Healing Place. (It doesn’t matter whom you ask, it could be your God or simply the Life Force within all of us.)
The Healing Place isn’t always the same. I don’t control the scene with my conscious mind. Instead I have an attitude of curiosity about where I will find myself. The visual starts with something small, like the single blossom of a flower. As I focus on its colors and the shape of its petals, the view expands. I see the flower is blooming on a sand dune. Off to one side is a palmetto. I feel the warmth of the sand on my feet. I hear the soft rush of waves. As I mentally turn, the ocean is before me. A pelican is flying across the horizon. There is a sea-salt tang in the air.