Amethysts of Learned Wisdom Before I Die

I'm not going to pretend I've got 'pearls' to share that I have discovered all on my own. I have glimpsed some Truths, learning from others, from Nature, and Perspective / the Universe / God though -transformative (purple) and healing (amethysts). If I were to die tomorrow, here's what you should know about the little I've discovered in life:

• Listen to Jason Mraz' 'Bella Luna', eat sweet, coral slices of watermelon in the summer and be utterly present -it will make you happy.
• Watch an old movie every now and then, preferably the kind with song and dance sequences (think Julie Andrews, Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers, Audrey Hepburn... maybe even some Bollywood) -the nostalgia is lovely.
• Read for pleasure. If you can, read Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth or some other great spiritual work (Tao, Rumi's Mathnawi, essays by Einstein and Kepler, letters by Newton, String Theory, Ramayana, The Alchemist, ancient Celtic lore, etc...) along with some fiction and some non-fiction of your choice.
• Realize that you probably actually love working if your work is fulfilling -idleness gets pretty old pretty fast. So just admit it, enjoy it and enjoy the breaks you take in between.
• Travel to the country where you left behind a piece of your soul in some past life. For me, it's Turkey -that's my bias, everyone oughta' love it, but anyway, go where you will.
• Meditate or pray. Or go running, or train for a Triathlon, or hike up a mountain. Or do as many of these as you can or want to -they are all co-reinforcing.
• Explore your home city or town as though you were a tourist there every now and then. You'll be surprised at the many new things you discover. Like a diamond-repository of cheeses -blue cheese that's actually delicious, smoked Gouda, Guyere, Brie, etc... Or a novel exhibit at your local museum. Or delicious pastries or chocolates in unlikely places (Chinatown anyone?)
  
• Remember that if you were to die tomorrow, you've lived your life perfectly. No regrets, no laments, no complaints, no grudges. This world and this life is about learning and growing -so-called 'bad' relationships, 'bad' experiences, 'poor' judgements -these were all your best teachers. So be thankful for them. Yes, even them.

And when you think you've got it, that Truth you search for, even for a moment, it may feel like it's slipped away soon after. It hasn't though -it's just a challenge to see it all the time. So just laugh it off when you find yourself back in a mad world after a split-second of clarity.

Final Ode to Sophie

Today was the McGill Med/Anatomy Body Donor Memorial Service. It was beautiful -calm and peaceful in Redpath Hall, intimate, with reflection-readings, reading out the donor names, piano music (really loved the Debussy!), and med-dent choir singing that stirred one's soul. Anyway -my favourite line of all the reflections was from one of my peers (I'm keeping him anonymous because I'm not sure he wants the pub!): "As I got to know you, it became a difficult question to answer whether I had taken your heart out or whether you had taken ours... I can't wait to meet you again!" The simple Truth really. My own reflection (the one I read at the service) is below.

Sophie

The first time I fell in love with humanity, I was probably 4 years-old. But on that Tuesday afternoon, this past September, it happened all over again. This is the moment I would like to share with you.

Walking up to the anatomy lab, I am so nervous it’s like springs and acrobats in my gut. And then, we remove the cover, and cut open the clear plastic encasement. I look at her hair and notice the grey roots, and short auburn-dyed locks. Her skin feels different from my own. All I could think is "What is her name?" I know it is early, but I cannot imagine trying to understand the mysterious universe in her body without first recognizing that she was a person, and she has a name.

I am in awe of her. I want to know who she is, what she did, did she love? Did she pick honey-suckle for her mum when she was little? Did she swim in the salty Atlantic or see rainbows on her lashes under a hot, blinding sun? Would she have given anything just for a stick of snow-frosted maple-taffy in the spring? She may not have been a teacher in real life, but she is teaching us now.

So, I am the first one to suggest a name for her. Sophie. From the ancient Greek sophos, meaning ‘wise’, wise like the greatest teachers in history –Plato, Hippocrates, Galen, Avicenna, and now, Sophie. I make the first cut –it is an honour. I thank Sophie for what we're going to learn from her. I am not scared anymore, and I do not feel badly or guilty for cutting: Sophie wanted us to learn from her body, including any mistakes along the way. It would be okay. I quickly learn how much pressure to apply so that I can penetrate the skin, without going too deeply, but also without going too shallow. I am completely focused -this is how I can honour her, to be fully present with her, and do my best by her.

And then I see it, everything inside Sophie. We learn theoretical anatomy and physiology in class –the real thing is strikingly unlike anything else. Is Sophie that same human body? Before I know it, we’re finished for today. We cover Sophie up and I thank her one more time before washing scalpels and forceps. Afterwards though, all I can think of is how strange I feel in my own body. This human body, this human mortal body. I keep running my hands over my skin, pinching it, making it tight. What does my skin feel like? And all I can see is everything inside Sophie.

And Sophie, in her mortal life, and in death, gave us this special, special gift –she did not know me, but she gave it to me anyway, she trusted me anyway. She taught me that we're all going to die one day, and our human muscles will look like the muscles of the wildlife we might see on our hikes up mountains, and through forests. Sophie taught me that I might learn to know all the muscles, and vessels, and nerves in her body, but I could not know her thoughts, feelings and dreams. These will remain a mystery to me, just like her name. When we leave this world the ‘who we are’ is no longer there. But Sophie actually was still here. She was teaching us, with her physical body, in death. Her lesson transcended all things physical –it was deeply philosophical, existential. Until then I could not imagine what it might be like to try to be useful, not only in life, but to serve in death. I was in such a daze. Did I even know what it meant to really make it count? Sophie, sophos. If it was ever possible to feel mortality, I felt it that Tuesday.

Naila Ramji

Medicine 1, 2009

Sacred and Mindful Indeed.

I particularly love this photo that I took when we were in Niagara Falls not too long ago. Yesterday, I attended a 'Mindful Medical Practice' meditation workshop which was really wonderful. That's all I can say really -it was further awakening, very interesting and in case you didn't realize it, we're all so very connected to each other, and so much more than you think (if you really knew how much, it would freak you out). But there's no use trying to explain these things in much detail -some personal, spiritual journeys cannot be put into words... or at least not right away. Let's keep it sacred for a while. Enjoy the love all around. Don't sweat the mist.