Speaking to Inspire

If Only Sleep Would Last Forever

Mike Wallace of ‘60 Minutes’ said, “I cannot tell you how painful it is. I have never known agony like it, and I’m an old man.” What do you think he was talking about?…Depression.

I don’t know about you, but when I hit bottom back in ‘93, along with the ending of a 25-year marriage, I ended up spending the summer holidays in the psychiatric ward of a Toronto hospital.

Fellow toastmasters, welcome guests, I’d like to share with you a brief glimpse of three aspects of depression – how it’s seen from the outside but felt inside, drugs with their side-effects, and an ancient non-drug therapy.

First. How is this illness viewed from the outside?

One of my university professors said about a depressed relative (and I quote), “You want to kick the self-centered bastard in the shins and tell him to snap out of it.” Depressed people, their illness invisible, are blamed and expected to get out of their mood at the snap of a finger – which is about as fair as expecting a person with a leg in a cast to do the same!

How does it feel inside? I thought, “If only sleep would last forever!” I recall being in bed till afternoon, feeling that devastating sinking sensation, hopeless, unable to concentrate, physically under-active, mentally over-active questioning the value of staying alive, and always – my attention on myself.

Second. Drug treatment.

Antidepressants are meant to raise the level of serotonin in the brain. When you’re feeling down, some of this so-called ‘happy chemical’ has gone awol, and there’s not enough available to let you access your happy feelings. What

are the most common side-effects? Sexual dysfunction (more than 50%) and insomnia (up to 25%) – two of the commonest symptoms of the very disease itself! What could be more depressing than not being able to sleep or have sex?…(I couldn’t think of anything either!)

I went into hospital with depression. They put me on Prozac, Ativan, Elavil, and Mogodan. I came out of hospital with depression – plus brain-memory damage, slow plumbing, no sleep for three weeks, and no sex drive! Someone might object, “Well, what are you complaining about? There’s Viagara in Niagara and Cialis in Dallas.”…True, they do the job, but they can also raise problems – migraines and eye damage.

My libido was resurrected only after I went to an herbalist/energy healer, but I haven’t fared so well with my damaged memory. That’s why I have to keep these notes handy! US drug reaction reports show from 1984 to 2004, while on Prozac, a total of 1,313 deaths.

But isn’t accuracy improving? A large ongoing study by the US dept. of Health shows a failure rate of 70% (7 0), and they made a surprising discovery – in the 30% success group was a much higher proportion married or with a partner! Question: Were some of those helped as much by having their attention focused on their mate, as by the drug?

Third. An old non-drug remedy found in the holy books.

Take the Torah of Judaism. Job was badly depressed. We may recall ‘the patience of Job,’ but do we recall how he was released from his prison? How he raised his serotonin level? ‘And God turned the captivity of Job when he prayed for his friends.’ When he got his eyes off himself, and onto the needs of others.

For what I do for others (or don’t do), I do for myself. What I do for myself alone, I do for nobody. Someone has defined a cow as a machine which makes it possible for people to eat grass. Similarly, other people are the medium or missing link back to happiness again.

In our self-pity, we can lock and bar the door, but the bar that keeps others out, keeps me in – in the dark dungeon of despair. That prof who said, “You want to kick the self-centered you-know-what in the shins…” was partly right. For the crux of this malady is self-centeredness. And self-centeredness and cheerfulness don’t hold hands. And until I open the door to others, I keep myself locked in the prison of despair.

The great psychiatrist Alfred Adler said, “You can be healed, if every day you begin first thing in the morning to bring a real joy to someone else. Do this for two weeks and you will no longer need therapy.” Do it as part of your daily lifestyle, and get ‘preventive maintenance’ thrown in.

We’ve looked at the ‘painful agony’ of depression, at drugs with their collateral damage, and at an old non-drug remedy. I don’t know about you, but when I got off all the drugs and traded my self-centeredness for this old neighbour-centered way of thinking and acting, a new day gradually dawned on me.

Then, I thought, “If only sleep would last forever!” Now, morning comes like a faithful friend.

Henry van Dyke said:

Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul;

[This is taken from my book, If Only Sleep Would Last Forever! Help for Depression and Anxiety from One Who’s Been There.]

Murray C. Watson Uncategorized

“Take kindness!” I was having a strange dream. I was on the Selfishness Expressway — looking for Serenity. I was in the right-hand lane and beside me was a car going the same speed. I hit the window button and sounded the horn. “How do I get to Serenity Avenue?

“Can’t get there from here…only one way…get off at the first exit…and take kindness!” Take kindness?

My friends, I’d like to share with you a brief glimpse of three aspects of merciful kindness — my own struggle with it, its place in religion, and its effect on our health.

First, my own struggle. A few years ago when I was a teenager, my father rented out our farm pasture-land to a cattle dealer. When he decided to take the cattle out, guess who had to help round them up? When you have to move cattle, why do they always have to be in the woods or in the swamp? I recall (and I’m sure my brothers do also) the blackflies, the running, the sweat! We were always traveling on foot, or by horse-and-buggy, when other people had cars! This man had a Cadillac, a 100 head of cattle, and a place that was huge.

If you could choose either serenity or the Cadillac and the 100 cows, which would you pick? If we said The Caddy and the Cows, didn’t we assume that they would ultimately raise our level of serenity? Or do our choices in life even matter?

A professor of mine said, “We come into this world getting burped off the edge of a cliff, and we leave it with a splat at the bottom.” And he seemed to imply that it didn’t much matter what we did between the burp and the splat. I thought what a marvelous, memorable metaphor, but I wasn’t sure if I believed it. Does what we do in life even make a difference?

I learned the answer to that question in my first year of teaching. I was in the senior room of a two-room elementary school in Marlbank, near Tweed, and I did something that had a long-lasting effect. I lied about one of my students — in court. I think he had brought a knife to school and made some kind of threat, and I recommended he be expelled — which if not ideal, was legitimate, for I believed he posed a danger. What was not legitimate was exaggerating the facts to make it stick. And it did stick. So did my guilt.

A blackness came into my life that day that lasted 40 years — until the year following my mother’s death, after reading a novel by George McDonald, I set out to try to find my former student. Near the end of our conversation, I said, “Do I have your forgiveness, Billy?”

“Oh (expletive deleted) yes,” he said, “no problem there.” And out of his black jacket pocket came his hand to shake mine. On the way home I caught myself singing, which I hadn’t done in a while.

Life has a bounce-back. When we were kids, our mother bought us one of those red-white-blue sponge balls. We used to bounce it off the brick wall at the back of the house where there was a wide space with no windows — until our father said to stop because it would knock the mortar out from between the bricks and the house would fall down. It was such fun because it would bounce back really fast!

In life, what we do is like that ball. It bounces right back on us. Of course, we all have to do our duty, but the lion’s share of duty is keeping a clear conscience. Definition: Clear conscience — sign of a bad memory. Mark Twain said, “Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.”

What did my struggle teach me about merciful kindness? That failing to give it to others, not only robs them of serenity, but destroys my own.

Second. Kindness in religion? Which is paramount — kindness or creed? Benevolence or belief? In the holy books, kindness is central. In Christianity… “Now just a minute!” someone might object, “before you start talking about Christianity. What about the Crusades and the Inquisition — both instigated by the so-called Christian Church? Why, in the crusades alone, up to nearly 1/4 of a million people — mainly Jews and Muslims — ‘‘infidels’’ and ‘‘Christ killers’’ they were called, including women and children, were mercilessly slaughtered. Often by beheading. According to the official chronicler of the first crusade, on Jerusalem, blood in the streets rose above the ankles. Pope Urban II in officially calling the crusade, said, “Undertake this journey eagerly for the remission of your sins, with the assurance of the reward of imperishable glory in the kingdom of Heaven.” In other words, you might insist, a pitch-the-penances-pass-purgatory-free card — a bribe by the church to kill her “enemies.”

Do you call that kindness? All in the name of Jesus who taught, ‘‘Love your enemies…do good to those who hate you…love your neighbour as yourself…blessed are the merciful.’’ You may even add that the apology Pope John Paul II gave in 2002 came more than nine centuries after the first crusade. And, by way of contrast, when the torture of Iraqi soldiers, Muslims, in Abu Ghraib by American soldiers was revealed by

60 Minutes, President Bush apologized within a week.

Why this terrorism against Jews and Muslims? The religious reason was they didn’t believe correctly — not like they did.

Let’s say you read in the newspaper a story about a father and his three sons, who all love their father. (He has other sons but they don’t come into the story.) The second son noticed that his older and younger brother had a different understanding of their father than he had, and his older brother was getting more friends than he. He then decided to wipe out both his brothers, saying this would make their father happy. What would you think? That he was ready for the looney bin? After all, true faith doesn’t hold hands with violence; it only holds hands with love.

Is it much different when so-called Christians have tried to kill members of other religions? — the heavenly Father’s other children, our brothers and sisters? As long as religious groups put the cart before the horse, and place believing correctly in bold print at the top of the page, and living correctly in fine print at the bottom — conflicts will be as ubiquitous as quills on a porcupine! In the New Testament, for e.g., mercy trumps religion. Jesus didn’t teach (let alone institute) a religion with a set of beliefs requiring mental assent, but a way to live, in which everything, including religion, bowed to compassionate love –– merciful kindness in work-boots.

What about other groups? In Hinduism, Swami Satchidinanda said, “The greatest joy in life is doing something for somebody else….Your actions allow you to retain (or recapture) the Supreme Joy.”

In Islam, Mohammed said, “Every kind thing is a virtue. To give water to a thirsty person, or to pick up a stone from the road…or to show a traveler his way…all this is virtue.”

In Buddhism, the Dalai Lama, when he was asked, “What is your religion?” answered, “My religion is kindness.”

If merciful kindness were accepted as the substance of religion, can you even imagine calling a crusade against another group? Any more than in 25 years of settling recess disputes, I ever once heard a student complain, “But he was too kind to me! And that’s not fair!”

Shortly after the U.S. Civil War, when the south was on its knees, members of Abraham Lincoln’s cabinet asked him, “Why don’t you destroy your enemies?” Lincoln replied, “Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?” The great psychologist and philosopher William James said, “There are three important things in life. The first is kindness, the second is kindness, and the third is kindness.”

Turn it around. How would you like to be treated? If you’re anything like me, I think you’ll say ‘with mercy, please.’ I don’t know about you, but I don’t often ask myself if I’m making the grade. If we got a mid-term in The School of Life, what would it say? I like the way George Eliot puts what I call the important progress-report questions.

And, counting, find one word

But do you find doing kindness harder than knowing what kindness is? I doubt the human mind even could believe oneself kind unless one is regularly doing kind deeds. For wouldn’t that be a contradiction? –– something the mind can’t handle. It wouldn’t compute. Mark Twain said, “To be good is noble, but to teach others to be good is nobler — and less trouble.”

Which then is paramount — kindness or creed? Benevolence or belief? Kindness is the true creed; true religion is kindness. Saying what you believe, without acting it out, is meaningless lip-service. The holy books say in plain language, “Job one is to give your neighbours mercy and kindness.” Then they whisper in your ear, “That’s how you give yourself serenity. You don’t become serene by deciding to feel serene — it’s a consequence, a byproduct, bounce-back – from kindness to others.

Third. Kindness and health. What effect does kindness have on the emotions and on the body? Giving and brain reaction. In an interview on CBC Radio March 20/2009, Peter Singer, professor of bio-ethics of Princeton university reported that the areas of the brain activated during sex are similarly activated when we give. It seems we’’re hard-wired to be kind. At any age. When my daughter was eight-years-old, I heard her say to her brother in the yard, “You know, I feel better when I give something away.” A week before my mother died, at 95, she said to my sister who was caring for her, “Tell me what to do, Dorothy, I want to be good.”

Deception-Detection testing. The Sept. 2007 Toastmasters Magazine, in a piece on body language, reported results of a test where different groups competed to identify truth-teller and liars by observing facial expression. This is based on the assumption that your actions, including what you say, affect your feelings, which show up either on the outside or (in the case of negative feelings) eat your guts out from the inside. Even “poker-faced” liars have been found unable to totally suppress the display of feelings on the face. A small fraction of a second of ‘‘emotional leakage’’ always appears. (U.S. Secret Service agents won the face-reading contest.)

Depression counseling. Patients are encouraged to express (press out) their feelings. This is based on the same premise, that negative feelings affect your body negatively. Woody Allen said, “I don’t find it easy to verbalize my anxiety; I grow a tumor instead.”

 NDEs or Near-Death-Experiences. The vast majority of those who have come back from NDEs report meeting Kindness with a capital K, and the same majority then devote their life to intentionally acting in a kind way to others. For most, earning money falls to the bottom of their priority list.

Kinesiology, the science of muscle testing, is based on the premise of a 3-way behaviour-feelings-body connection. What we do produces feelings, and the feeling produce changes in our bodies. In his book, Power Versus Force, psychiatrist David Hawkins, on the basis of repeated testing, has calibrated different attitudes on a scale from 1 to 1000. You probably won’t be surprised to know that hatred comes in at the bottom. They find muscles weaken when we do or say what we believe untrue; but when we do or say what we believe true our muscles strengthen.

And, of course, no one claims that acting honestly and kindly causes poorer health, or that acting dishonestly and unkindly caused better health. You know yourself how good you feel when you’ve been able to help someone in as simple a way as giving them directions on the road. And I know how bad I feel when I gossip about someone, even though what I say is essentially true. I’m always saying later, “Why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut!”

But, you might object, “It’s sour grapes! If you actually got the Cadillac and the Cows you’d have a different opinion!” Well, I did get the 100 cows. In fact, when I sold my cattle in ‘74, I had 169 head. I did not get the Cadillac, but because Abraham Lincoln had become one of my heroes, I did get a white 1991 Town Car. More important, though, because of a lack of mercy and kindness in my actions, I also had guilt and anxiety. A little excitement doesn’t wash that away.

When we lay our heads on our pillows, what do we wish to feel? Isn’t it clean and serene like a little child? What leaves us with that feeling? Doing unselfish kind deeds during the day. Still I might persist, “I know money can’t buy serenity, but I’d sooner be un-serene rich than un-serene poor.” But pursuing money blinds me to others, and helping others is the very way I help myself! In fact, it’s the only way to the greater serenity I expected from the Caddy and the Cows in the first place! Certainly before I stopped trying to get rich, I had more fantastic failures than stunning successes. Maybe making smiles is even more important than making money. The mother of a poor family put up a sign in the kitchen –– Share. Follow Miss Piggy’s Rule. Don’t eat more than you can lift.

What does research suggest about the connection between kindness and health? Doing acts of kindness produces positive feelings, and positive feelings produce healthier bodies. Kindness is healthy!

We’ve looked at kindness –– at my own struggle with it, at its place in religion, at its connection with health. Kindness is not about getting, but about giving; not finding another’s fault but finding forgiveness in my heart; not a healthy bank account but taking my neighbour into account.J. W. Foley said:

Drop a pebble in the water: just a splash and it is gone;Oh, about that dream! It turned out that the Selfishness Expressway and Serenity Avenue were one-way streets, going in opposite directions. To get onto serenity, you had to get off Selfishness and onto Merciful Kindness Boulevard. Whichever way you turn onto Merciful Kindness Boulevard, you go directly to Serenity — that’s because Merciful Kindness Boulevard is really a huge circle, that crosses every pleasant road you’d ever wish to travel on.

But there’s half a hundred ripples circling on and on and on.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness: in a minute you forget,

But there’s gladness still a-swelling, and there’s joy a-circling yet.

Solace for sadness,My friend, take kindness.

The way to get gladness!

More important than a bottom line,

More precious than a diamond mine

Is merciful kindness to me ––

To pay me with Serenity.

[The above piece is from the book Every Pleasant Road: Getting to Contentment Avenue]

Murray C. Watson Uncategorized

Daddy,” said the boy, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “I put the wheelbarrow there because…”

“Have you forgotten what I said about making excuses!” shouted the father.

The young boy at once got out of bed and started dressing. “Daddy, would you please come with me? You know I’m afraid of the dark.” Tears were now running down the soft cheeks and his voice didn’t sound right.

“You left it there, Sissy. Go get it yourself.”

His mother, over-hearing her husband’s voice, went to the closet and took down her son’s windbreaker and a sweater for herself. Then she bent down and pulled out two pairs of rubber boots as there were still puddles everywhere. A driving drenching storm had started in the night and only ended at noon. She handed him his jacket and, noticing the tears on his face, stood by him as she put on her sweater and buttoned it up. He started to explain. “Mommy, you weren’t home and I was going to tell you….” His mother, with a fleeting glance to the living-room, put her finger to her mouth.

“It’s okay, son,” she said, intending to comfort him. Then she went to get the big flashlight. Just before the school-bus had brought their son home, the daughter of her best friend and closest neighbour had come cross-country, asking for help. They had quickly taken the same way, through the fields at the back of their small farm, as it was shorter than walking out the lane-way and taking the road. When she got back home, her boy was already in bed. He was one of those children who obey their parents.

Exhausted but holding the light in one hand and her boy’s hand in the other, she and her boy began walking out the long narrow dirt lane-way. The dark trees whispered mysteriously and thunder grumbled uncertainly in the distance.

When they came to the over-turned wheelbarrow, and just beyond it the small car, they stopped. She was beginning to hand the light to the boy, but he was already bending down and grasping the handles lying in the mud. Small as he was, he didn’t take long to turn it right-side up. Now it was the mother’s turn to cry.

For where the wheelbarrow had been, there was a gaping washed-out hole. She could see in an instant that had the boy not covered this cavity, the front corner of their small car would’ve dropped in and taken serious damage.

Trying to stifle her sobs, she wrapped her free arm around her boy, and pulled him close. Then, with the boy pushing the yellow wheelbarrow and his mother showing the way, they started back home. The thunder had moved off and the trees were friendly.

The young boy went back to bed, and his mother went to the living-room where her husband lay on the couch. He started to say, “What do you want?” but she only motioned to him. Thinking it must’ve been something important, he got up and followed her out of the house and into the narrow drive-way. When they approached the car and his eyes followed the beam of light down into the deep pit, he uttered the sacred name. When he caught himself, he said quietly, “Good grief.”

On their way back home, he was quiet. New feelings were stealing into his heart. Automatically he put his cap on the peg, bent down and pulled off each of his rubber boots, and then immediately – though slowly because he was finding it hard to see – found his way to the narrow hallway and to his son’s bedroom. After a soft knock, he quietly opened the door. Well, what he came her for could wait until morning, for their son was sleeping the sleep of the innocent – the innocent misunderstood – and his father had decided who he wanted to become.

As he was gently closing the door, he noticed tacked on the wall above the boy’s head, at the end of the small cot, a picture of himself and his boy, and the wheelbarrow. It was when he was splitting the wood and his son had insisted on helping him, by wheeling the firewood to the lean-to shed against the side of their house.

That night in the country, in a little house both unpretentious and unremarkable, three people slept ‘the sleep of the just’ – a little boy who used a wheelbarrow to keep his father from having an accident with the car, a tired woman who having just helped bring her best friend’s new son into this world, encouraged her own without one unkind word to her husband, and a man who was inspired to become a better father because his innocent son had done what he believed was best and refused to justify himself.

~~~

[The above story, Murray’s first serious piece of fiction, was written after he drove west from Huntsville across to highway 69 leading north to Parry Sound where he once lived. This connecting route # 141was really fun to drive, with its winding turns and rolling hills. There were many driveways along this highway and the woods came right up to their edges. Near the middle of one of these narrow lane-ways Murray noticed an overturned wheelbarrow.]

Murray C. Watson Uncategorized