Image result for autumn leaves images

“Autumn… the year’s last, loveliest smile.”

William Cullen Bryant

When I was a young lad, my favorite time of year was autumn.  As I search back in my memories, several reasons come to mind.  First, the sweltering days of summer had finally passed and were behind me.  While a certain joy came with never being cold, Oklahoma summers were nearly always miserable, blistering hot days, ones where your clothes were soaked with sweat at the least exertion.  Yes, it was that bad.  Autumn was the dessert, the reward for surviving the white-hot inferno of summer.

Even more importantly, autumn was the season of every child’s favorite holiday: Halloween.  Being born with an insatiable sweet tooth, I would plan for weeks for this grand occasion, the highlight of the year, a time when parental concerns about overdosing their children on unlimited amounts of sugar, artificial colors and flavors were temporarily brushed aside.  To my adolescent mind, the burning question was: How can I go to as many houses as possible?  In plain speak, the more homes I went to, the more candy I would get.

The most pressing concern that my brother Jim and I had was to convince our parents to chaperone our little sister, Connie. If we had to wait for her as she strolled along, casually hobnobbing with her friends who happened to cross our paths, our progress would have been significantly impeded.  I loved my sis, but Halloween was serious business, and it was critical to pull out all the stops. I would say to my parents something like this, “Hey, Mom and Dad, how about taking Connie with you for Halloween?  Jim and I might go too fast for her, and we’d hate to accidentally leave her behind.”  With these words, my parent’s eyes widened, and they began to get nervous looks on their faces. Seeing my comments were having the desired effect, I added, “You know, it might not be safe.”  When the “safe” word was invoked, all doubt was instantly erased from my parents’ minds, and invariably my brother and I were allowed to go out on our own.

When the exalted day of Halloween finally arrived, I would wear my best, pavement-gripping tennis shoes, so that I could sprint from home to home as quickly as my little legs could carry me.  For the entire time, I was in a state of near panic, knowing I had only one shot at it for the year, and any goofs I made would have to wait until next Halloween to correct.  One especially annoying trap I occasionally fell into was when certain neighbors made the unfortunate decision to give healthy snacks for Halloween.  How dare they?  Kids didn’t go trick or treating to get apples, oranges, bananas, or other such nourishing treats.  We wanted the good stuff, candy that we could get sugar highs on, sweets that would mercilessly extract fillings for which our parents had paid their life savings. Health and Halloween simply didn’t go together, and we liked it that way.

I’ll never forget the year I had collected so much candy, I wasn’t sure what to do with it all. I certainly wouldn’t give any to my sister, who had collected about a tenth of what I had in my bulging, grocery sack full of goodies. I had worked hard for my candy, and I planned to keep every delectable morsel. Faced with a dilemma of major proportions, I made the seemingly brilliant decision to be much like a pirate and bury my booty.  So, I grabbed a healthy chunk of my candy, hermetically sealed it in a coffee can, and clandestinely buried it deep in the ground in our backyard, furtively looking from side-to-side to be certain I wasn’t seen.  Six months later, when I was having a major case of sugar withdrawal, I grabbed a shovel and excitedly dug up my treasure, only to discover that the can had somehow leaked, and what was once perfectly delicious candy was now moldy and rotten.  I ate several pieces just to be sure, hoping beyond hope that at least some of the candy was still edible.  Sigh . . .  I was depressed for weeks, but I learned from my experience, in that one can never have too much candy, and never again would I save it for the future.


As I have become an adult, autumn is still my favorite season, but for different reasons. While I still have a sweet tooth of major proportions, it is a fraction of what it used to be.  Nowadays, at least part of my love for autumn lies in the beauty of the surroundings.  The kaleidoscope of colors, whether gold, brown, orange, red or yellow, strike me as being representative of God’s multicolored palette, painting the environment in pleasant, soft, comforting hues. Also, autumn is the time for harvest, a gathering of the fruits of one’s labors.  As compared to spring and summer with their inherent frenetic activities, and winter, where survival from the cold is the prime directive, autumn is the ideal season to ask the questions: What is the end result of the seeds I planted this year?  What can I do better?  

As you might have guessed, in spite of my sugar craving, now my favorite holiday is Thanksgiving.  As opposed to Christmas with its rampant commercialism and out-of-control gift giving, Thanksgiving is a time of expressing thanks for my many blessings, celebrated by a sumptuous meal with loved ones.  No presents are expected or necessary, just good food, camaraderie and conversation, not necessarily in that order. In short, I love the simplicity, love and grace that come with autumn, the best time of year for just about everything.

But, as I think about it, I wonder:  Do they allow adults to trick or treat?


God is everywhere

There’s nowhere that He’s not

Whether lofty mountaintops

Verdant forests

Scorching deserts

Frigid arctic ice fields

Moon and stars

Bottom of the sea

Or busy city streets

He is there

Yet, there are times

When the pain of life becomes overwhelming

Tears stream down my cheeks

And I cry out

“Oh, God!  Help me!”

His answer never comes in words

Rather, the wind on my face is His kiss

The warming sun is His comforting embrace

And the earth beneath my feet is His reassurance

If I take the time to breathe

And look inside myself

I also find Him in my heart

Omnipresent, healing, loving

Never apart from me

Never apart from anyone


What Really Matters

“People suffer because they are caught in their views. As soon as we release those views, we are free and we don’t suffer anymore.”

– Thich Nhat Hanh

On occasion, I find myself feeling passionate about certain thoughts or activities that are simply not important, and because of this, as Thich Nhat Hanh says above, I suffer. With this in mind, in the hope of saving time and energy in the future, I’ve put together a list of things that I consider to be of little consequence, and also one of items that I believe to be worthwhile.  As you read my compilations, I might ask you, “What comprises your lists?  What is important (and unimportant) to you?  In what areas do you want to focus your attention, and where would you prefer to spend less time?”

Now, as Jackie Gleason might say, “And away we go!”

What doesn’t matter:

  1. Sporting events.  I can’t believe I’ve put this at the top of the list.  I love watching the Oklahoma City Thunder, and many a nail-biting evening I’ve sat with my father and son-in-law, screaming at the top of my lungs, trying to cheer Big Blue on to a win.  But, at the end of the day, while I enjoy these times and the camaraderie immensely, it’s rare for the games, in of themselves, to have any important long-term effect in the world.
  2. Constantly wearing the latest fashions.  Unless it’s required for one’s employment, how worthless is this?  It’s as if someone is saying:  Look at me!  Can’t you see how hip and up-to-date I am? 
  3. What others think about me.  If I live a life where I stand up for what I believe, some folks will like me, others won’t, and that’s just fine with me.
  4. Holiday chaos.  For this reason, I’m beginning to enjoy Christmas less and less.  Nowadays, Thanksgiving is a holiday I can embrace, a simple time of fellowship, good food and appreciation for all that I have been blessed with.
  5. A lavish lifestyle.  While enjoying the finer things in life on occasion is certainly pleasurable, it’s hard to justify a constant stream of overabundance when many in the world are starving, thirsty, diseased and barely able to survive.
  6. Cosmetic procedures.  Face lifts, Botox injections, liposuction, hair transplants and other vanity-based procedures performed to preserve the illusion of eternal youth are – in my humble opinion – a waste of time.  Contrary to what we’ve been expected to believe, appearance is not everything. I’ve heard on occasion that if such alterations in the way we look make us feel better about ourselves, how can that be bad?  Well, I suppose it all depends on one’s perspective.  My Buddhist friends would ask, knowing we will all die someday, does it really matter if we look good just before we begin to molder in the grave?

What does matter:

  1. Kindness.  The Dalai Lama once said, “My religion is kindness.”  Deservedly at the beginning of the list.
  2. Raising children in a loving, caring manner.  I’ve repeatedly said that the most important thing I have done this lifetime is to raise my three daughters.  They are truly the living legacy of my life.
  3. Butterflies.  What better exemplifies a joyful existence than these beautiful, innocent insects that flit and dance through the sky for no other reason than to express their love of life?
  4. Mindfulness.  The past is over, the future is yet to be, and all one has is the present moment. Live it in full awareness.
  5. Laughter.  A good guffaw has been described as the “best medicine,” and I couldn’t agree more.
  6. The look of love in my pet’s eyes.  Unconditional, straight from their little hearts to mine. Sigh . . .
  7. Meditation.  Few things are more worthwhile than probing the Universe that exists within and without.
  8. Helping others.  Preferably, done so in a way that allows them to help themselves. Donating to charities is a great thing, but giving to those that promote self-empowerment is even better.
  9. Eating a healthy diet/exercise.   The apostle Paul once said, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit? . . . Therefore honor God with your body.”  In other words, how can you perform your soul’s work if your body is not cared for properly and suffers the unfortunate consequences?
  10. Awareness of what is occurring in the world.  Here, a balance is necessary. While being informed is important, every so often I have to take a news fast and withdraw from the troubling happenings of our Earth.  Otherwise, I’ll find myself continually mired in a state of dismay about tragic events over which I have little or no control.
  11. Sunrises and sunsets.  To see the technicolor glory of God in the morning and evening is always a blessing.
  12. The love and support of family and friends.  On occasion, life presents challenges that are difficult to handle on my own.  Thank God for those whom I love, and those who likewise care for me.  I couldn’t survive without these precious ones in my life.
  13. The environment.  We should do all that we can to preserve our world for the generations to come. No soul-waiting-to-be-born wants to be incarnated into an overheated, polluted, cesspool of a planet.
  14. Trees.  I love connecting with the spiritual energy of these ancient spirits.
  15. Anything that give me that warm, tingly, joyful feeling in my heart.

With time and patience, my fervent wish is that I’ll learn to focus on the second list more than the first. Spiritual teachers would say that where I water my seeds, in other words, where I direct my attention, is the place where the most growth will invariably occur, whether with activities that resonate as meaningful, or with those that are insignificant.  All this said, I will not be a stickler about the happenings of my life, and flexibility, not rigidity, will always be the prime directive.  I have no doubt in my mind that even so-called hard and fast rules are meant to occasionally be broken. Saying this, I must confess:

I’ll still whoop it up during Thunder games.

A Moment in Time

Some afternoons, I like to take a dip in the pool, and then recline on a lawn chair and mindfully observe the happenings in the back yard. Surprisingly enough, there’s a lot of action taking place, if I simply have eyes to see.

Just the other day, the weather was warm and balmy, and the light breeze that brushed across my face brought to life the wind chimes hanging next to Sheridan’s and my home, catching me by surprise with a lilting melody that emanated from the midst of silence. The sun was gradually falling behind the oak trees that flourish on our property, with a shining corona that contrasted with the dark green of the leaves and the royal blue of the sky. Our dogs, Karma and Buddy, were delighted that I was hanging around with them, and every so often they presented themselves for petting, their bright, innocent eyes filling me with joy.  After rubbing their furry heads, they frolicked and played, taking turns chasing each other around the back yard and barking at the chattering squirrels that taunted them from the trees.

As the evening progressed and the sun sank lower in the sky, I could hear the light, oscillating sounds of cicadas and tree frogs coming from the woods to the south, along with the comforting coos of mourning doves  When I gazed upwards, I saw Mississippi kites circling slowly overhead, looking for prey, prepared to streak downward through the darkening sky at a moment’s notice.  Looking straight ahead, I caught a glimpse of our hummingbird wind chime hanging from a tree branch over the pool, and I became amused when I discovered a blue dragonfly clinging to the string of the chime.  Over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed the same event occurring repeatedly, and I found myself wondering what that those beautiful insects were thinking.  Did they believe that the plastic hummingbird was a giant dragonfly, protecting them from creatures that would do them harm? Was there some sort of romantic attraction? Was the string simply in a convenient place for a siesta? One can only guess, but I smiled as I thought of the possibilities.

My mind started to wander, and I found myself pondering the events of my life, some happy, some sad, though in that hallowed moment, any concerns I had dissolved into the ethers, and I was filled with contentment.  I started to doze in and out, with brief, mellow dreams that moved in and out of my consciousness.  I immersed myself in the restorative milieu of the backyard and let the energy surround me.  I knew that I was healing, inside and out, and I felt grateful. As the Zen Buddhist master Thich Nhat Hanh once said, “Present moment, wonderful moment.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Glow Worm Caves

Glowing Worms New Zealand 10

I’ve added another location to my bucket list, the fascinating Waitomo Caves on the North Island of New Zealand. Enjoy!

Glow Worms

О Greater Light, we praise Thee for the less;
The eastern light our spires touch at morning,
The light that slants upon our western doors at evening.
The twilight over stagnant pools at batflight,
Moon light and star light, owl and moth light,
Glow-worm glowlight on a grassblade.
О Light Invisible, we worship Thee!
– T. S. Eliot, from O Light Invisible
We are all worms. But I believe that I am a glow-worm.
– Winston Churchill
When Sheridan and I were recently vacationing in Santa Fe, we visited our friends, Larry and Barbie, and over some good red wine and tasty edibles, Larry mentioned that some time ago he had the sublime experience of seeing a glow worm.  I was stunned.  A glow worm?  The only thing I knew about glow worms was the uplifting, toe-tapping song sung by the Mills Brothers that I had heard as a child:
Shine little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer
Shine little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer
Lead us lest too far we wander
Love’s sweet voice is calling yonder
Shine little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer
Hey, there don’t get dimmer, dimmer
Light the path below, above
And lead us on to love!
I hated to confess that I had never seen a glow worm, but Larry’s rather innocent comment planted a seed thought in my mind and kindled a strong desire to gaze at one myself.  After all, who in their life has actually seen a glow worm?
The next day Sheridan and I were having breakfast at a lovely Santa Fe B & B, Ravens Ridge, when I casually asked the proprietors, Judge and Phyllis, “Hey, have you ever seen a glow worm before?”
To my shocked surprise, Judge said, “Why, yes, I saw one just a year or so ago.”
My eyes widened, and I stammered, “Wh . . . Where?”
Pointing, he said, “I saw one crawling on the wall next to the garden area.  It was quite beautiful.”
I couldn’t believe my good fortune; Santa Fe seemed to be in the middle of an veritable glow worm colony.
Later, Sheridan and I left to enjoy our day, but on that night and those that followed, I excused myself and disappeared into the verdant Ravens Ridge garden, a man on a mission, searching high and low for the object of my desire, a glow worm. Alas, in spite of my determined, persistent efforts, not one made an appearance. The last night there, as I sat expectantly on a bench overlooking the garden, I finally realized that finding a glow worm was much like a spiritual experience, in that while one can set the stage for such a sacred event, one cannot force it to occur, rather, such a hallowed moment usually comes on its own volition. I sighed and slowly walked back to our room, disappointed, but hoping that somehow, someway, I would eventually find the elusive glow worm.
Returning home, I did some online research and discovered that in America, a glow worm can be not only the larval stage of the firefly, but also a railroad worm, a member of a bioluminescent beetle family.  If you happen to live down under – Australia or New Zealand – glow worms are not beetles, but rather flies called fungus gnats. One genus, Arachnocampa, lives on the ceilings of caves, where they light up the interior with a soft, almost fluorescent blue light that has all the appearance of a van Gogh-like starry night sky.
At that point, I questioned:  Why does the glow worm capture such interest?  Certainly, not many worms or insects have had songs written about them. One explanation is the bioluminescence itself, which occurs not only in glow worms and fireflies, but also in some forms of marine life, certain fungi and bacteria. While scientists can explain the biochemical basis for this phenomenon, for me, the soft, shining light conjures up mystical, magical and ethereal feelings, thoughts of fairy dust and the elemental kingdom.  Also, for fireflies in particular, I find myself moved by the innocence of such tiny insects, yet, amazingly enough, they wield the seemingly miraculous power to generate light.  Perhaps even more significant, when I gaze at a firefly flitting through the dark night, the pulsing luminescence reminds me of the soul, the radiant spark of God that lies deep within each and every one of us.  I believe this divine part of our being remains pure and holy, and cannot be sullied by our missteps.  In that way, referring to the words of Winston Churchill, we are all glow worms.
Despite the onerous challenge of my search, I plan to steadfastly continue my quest for the glow worm. I expect that in the nights to come, I will be out methodically searching various environs into the wee hours.  So, if you happen to hear someone rummaging around in the bushes outside your home on a pitch-black, new moon night, don’t be too concerned.  It’s likely yours truly, searching for my little bioluminescent friend. When I find her, I will rejoice, and you are likely to hear a piecing scream of uninhibited joy.
Will my eventual discovery be a spiritual experience?
How could it be otherwise?

Bonjour a tous mes amis en France!

I have recently discovered that a good number of those visiting my web site are from France!  I feel delighted and honored, as Paris is one of my favorite cities in the world. The amazing food, the ambiance of walking the city streets or alongside the Seine, the Louvre, the friendly Parisians, the Eiffel Tower and the Musee d’Orsay, all create feelings of joy, contentment and peace. In honor of my friends from France, I have attached a picture that I took in 2015 while visiting the magnificent city of Paris. To all of you:

Vive la France!

Forty Years


“The highest reward for a man’s toil is not what he gets for it but what he becomes by it.”

– John Ruskin

On July 1, 2018, when I drive to work at the emergency department, I will have traveled there for forty years. How is that possible? Where has the time gone? It boggles my mind to think of the events of my life that have passed since then.  Even though I’ve lived in several different locations during that period, my trip to the hospital has remained much the same.  Repeatedly, I passed though the intersection where one morning after a night shift, I was broadsided by an intoxicated airman who ran a stop sign.  Other than being knocked silly and having a mild neck injury, I ended up being as fit as a fiddle.  Oddly enough, adjacent to the site of my accident sits a large, sprawling cemetery, and I’m certainly glad the accident didn’t find me needing a place there.  Closer to the hospital, I drove past the location of a bustling weekend flea market, a now-closed tire shop and a series of convenience stores.  Oftentimes, as I mentally prepared for the intensity of my day, I motored past these nondescript spots without paying the least bit of attention to them, steeling myself for the inevitable traumas that I would soon face in the emergency department.  Someday these places will be distant memories, flashes from the past that have no meaning whatsoever.

But now, as I anticipate my upcoming, four decade anniversary in emergency medicine, my thoughts roll back to 1978, when I first began my career.  I was green, very green, and while I thought I knew a lot about medicine, little did I know at that time how much I still had to learn. Fortunately, not only did I have the support and shared wisdom of my physician colleagues, even more critical was the team of experienced nurses who had my back.  While my fellow doctors were helpful in my developing practice, day-to-day I worked much more closely with the nursing staff and ambulance service personnel. As I think back, my memories of them are as distinct as if they were yesterday.  For those of you unfamiliar with those in my past work environment, please forgive my diversion into the olden days and their associated recollections, vivid memories begging to be shared.

First, I must mention Ann, the nurse manager of the emergency department, whose innate, calm disposition kept the chaos in some modicum of order.  I never saw Ann lose her cool, no matter how dicey the situation, though I suspect on occasion she blew a gasket just like the rest of us. How could I forget Frankie, practiced and direct?  I never had to wonder what was on her mind about patients, because she always told me, whether I liked it or not.  Then, there was Carol, the night shift RN, who was more than just a learned nurse, she was a great friend, and I always appreciated her insights when difficult patients walked through the door.  Pam was Carol’s trusty sidekick during the wee hours, a solid, centered caregiver who held it together when things were going bad. Rick was a terrific nurse, great in times of catastrophe, yet he was also the ultimate cynic.  Countless times, when I asked him how he was doing, he raised his eyebrows and sarcastically responded, “Another day in paradise.”  Even now, I grin as I recall the disgusted look on his face. Barbara was one of our most emotionally collected nurses, and even though everything was going to hell in a handbasket, she remained as cool as a cucumber; she was a tough, hardened emergency nurse.  Over the years, she has moved on to more of an administrative role, and she has become one of my close friends and confidantes. Darrell was an EMT (emergency medical technician) who later became an RN.  As good as a nurse as he was, he was an even better volleyball player, and he was one of the stalwarts of the emergency volleyball team.  Besides those previously mentioned, I have fond memories of many others from 1978, including Donna, Norma, Peggy, Cobehy, Dan, Debbie, Maria, Glenda and Carol C.

At that distant time, the corps of paramedics and EMTs on the ambulance service were the finest that could be found anywhere.  The Grand Master of the paramedics was the knowledgeable and oh so wise Harvey.  He was like a walking encyclopedia, one who knew the fine details of Advanced Cardiac Life Support (ACLS) better than most physicians.  When the occasions came for our biennial re-certifications in ACLS, I shuddered when I discovered that Harvey was the one testing me. Under the pressure of his beady-eyed, intense stare, I would break out into a cold sweat, and I prayed to God that I knew the right answers to his incisive questions. Fortunately, after Harvey heard a few correct responses, he usually took it easy on me, for which I was most grateful.  Keith was another one of our superb paramedics, who, after his stint in the ambulance service, later redirected his skills to become the executive vice president of a physician billing service.  I have the highest respect for him and his accomplishments.  Judi was the lone female paramedic at our hospital in those male-dominated years, and she was Ms. Reliable, someone I could always count on to make the right decision in the field.  I want to also give shout-outs to the long-time director, Romeo, also brothers Tony and Jerry, as well as Joe, Sammy and Jeff.  Of course, I could never forget Randy and Andy, players of hot fiddles in a local country and western band. Charlie Daniels was a rank amateur compared to them.

I have chosen in this blog post to honor the memory of two very special nurses. Gail was an RN who I had worked with for a number of years.  She was atypical for an emergency nurse, in that she was generally quiet and soft spoken.  Hidden underneath her gentle manner was a caring and compassionate nurse, one who provided excellent care to those fortunate enough to have her as a provider.  One tragic day, when Gail was forty-nine years old, she contracted flesh-eating bacteria. Despite our heroic efforts, which included surgery and high dose IV antibiotics, she died on July 28, 2003.  In the aftermath, I felt like the wind had been sucked out of my sails, as from the beginning of my emergency career, Gail had always been there, and all of a sudden she wasn’t – an agonizing vacuum had been created. Another who deserves mention is Diana, who I had worked with for some time before she was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Diana was one of the most kind and loving persons I have ever met, and whenever she entered, her beautiful smile lit up the room. Her warmhearted attitude never changed, in spite of the ravages of her disease and the side effects of its treatment. While her body gradually failed, her spirit continued to be effervescent, glowing and kind.  She died on October 28, 1996, at thirty-nine years of age.  I’ll never forget her.

In my upcoming book, The Pit: Memoir of an Emergency Physician, I will go into great detail about my thoughts on the field of emergency medicine, its inherent issues, and my feelings as my career gradually comes to a close.  But the primary purpose of this post is not to share my revelations, but rather, to take a walk down memory lane and express my deepest appreciation to  those health care professionals with whom I have worked, not only in the beginning, but also those throughout my career. These include doctors, nurses, paramedics, EMTs, physician associates, respiratory therapists, and x-ray and ultrasound technicians.  Over the years, as part of our job, we have all witnessed and shared in an enormous amount of suffering, mostly in our patients, but also in ourselves as we struggled with the trauma of what we have seen and experienced. From the bottom of my heart: Thank you, everyone!  The personal sacrifices you have made to help others are far greater than the general public could ever know.

So, in response to the quote at the beginning of this blog, how has emergency medicine affected me?  What have I become?  While it’s often hard to examine oneself dispassionately, when I look deeply at my start in emergency medicine, and compare that person to what I am now, I smile. Not only have my clinical skills improved, I am much more mellow and easygoing, and certainly more accepting.  That said, I still have a bit of an edge, something every good emergency physician wears like a badge of honor.  Since I began my practice, I couldn’t be more grateful, not only for what my career has done for me, but also for those who have allowed me to serve as their physician.

Would I do it all again?


As Above, So Below

Just recently, I laid down in the back yard, resting and contemplating. I gazed up at the evening sun as it sank behind the trees, heard the birds excitedly twittering and the rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze wafted through them. In the background, our dogs, Karma and Buddy, gnawed contentedly on their rawhide chews. In that idyllic moment, the realization occurred that the wind is much like my breath, the sun is as my heart, and the chatter of birds is akin to my thoughts. I intimately understood, as is said in Genesis, that God created us in His image, and what a blessing that is.

As above, so below.

Sleeping In as a Spiritual Practice

“The early bird gets the worm.”

– Proverb

“Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.”

– Benjamin Franklin

From the beginning of time, a thick, suffocating layer of guilt has been imposed upon anyone who made the unfortunate decision to sleep in.  No matter that you were up late the night before laboring around the house, or that you had worked your fingers to the bone over the preceding weeks at your stressful, screaming meemies job. The overall societal consensus was that if you didn’t spring into action at the crack of dawn, you were assumed to be a lazy, indolent, good-for-nothing – one who preferred to take it easy rather than put in an honest, hard day’s work.  Yes, in the eyes of Benjamin Franklin and his army of over-achievers, simply because you chose to loll in bed, you were destined for ill health, poverty and poor decision making.

With this in mind, just recently I had a very busy schedule, with lots of difficult shifts in the emergency department, and after this flurry of pressured activity, I went to bed, exhausted. When I woke the next morning, I fought off Ben’s admonition and made a conscious choice to stay in bed and relax. Lying there resting, a kaleidoscope of thoughts began to float across my mind, some from times past, others from the present, and some from an anticipated future.  While a number were enjoyable, some were disturbing, others frightening, and some exhilarating.  Whatever their quality, I smiled at them and let them cycle though my consciousness until they lost their power and dissipated.  I closed my eyes, once again fell into a deep slumber and in moments visited Dreamland.  As opposed to late night dreams that are often forgotten, I clearly remembered these subconscious reflections when I woke a short time later.  After examining these dreams, a totally different, unique set of thoughts greeted me, and once again, I dispassionately let them move in and out of my mind.  Much like the classic Clint Eastwood movie, “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,” they were what they were, and I did not attempt to control or judge them.  A short time later, though, I once again went to sleep, more dreams occurred, and the continuum of thoughts to dreams and dreams to thoughts went on for hours until, refreshed and relaxed, I stretched, rose from bed and engaged the day. Now, as I think about it, in many ways this process was like a deep meditation, and much spiritual work had been accomplished.

As I ponder my morning of R & R, I believe we are long overdue for a different mindset about sleeping in.  What we sometimes forget, in our driven, goal-oriented Western society, is that a balance is necessary between activity and passivity.  In the East, this is best demonstrated in Taoism, where our dualistic world is represented by the yin and the yang, which together make up an indivisible whole.  Good and bad, light and dark, wisdom and foolishness, day and night, truth and falsehoods, and yes, activity and passivity, all make up the dichotomy that is our Universe.  In other words, you can’t have one aspect without the other.

The long and the short of this is: I vow to let go of the need to be an early bird. No longer will I feel guilty about staying in bed and relaxing, or, in general, taking it easy, for not only will the extra rest do me good, also healthy, sacred healing can take place. I don’t plan to sleep in every day, but when I do so, I will enjoy it to the fullest.  After all, no matter what Benjamin Franklin said, I deserve to sleep in every so often, and have some quiet moments to balance my oftentimes frenzied life.

Sleeping in can be a spiritual practice, don’t you agree?