New hope for “super-responders” on the horizon
Empaths get their own how-to guide; diagnosis may follow

By Elizabeth Norton

Caitlin remembers it like it was yesterday.

A freezing rain fell from the predawn March sky. The schools had a 90-minute delay, so her children stayed home late. By the time she’d completed three Sun Salutations, she knew she’d never get in her yoga practice with all the noise and interruptions. Later that morning she had to go to the doctor for an annual physical, and the woman sitting next to her kept coughing and sneezing. Then her mother, who lives in a retirement community, needed a ride to the supermarket.

Over lunch, her best friend went on incessantly about problems at the office. After school, Caitlin had to deal with soccer, piano lessons, homework, dinner, and bedtime. To top it all off, that night when she fell into her own bed exhausted, her husband wanted to have sex.

“It was then that I realized: I’m just not like everyone else. I’m so exquisitely sensitive to other people that I get hyper-attuned to their energies, and then I have nothing left for myself,” said Caitlin, who spoke with the Lantern on condition that her last name not be used.

Luckily for Caitlin, help came seemingly by chance. She was browsing at the Books of Kells, Mercia’s independent bookstore, and came upon The Empath’s Handbook: How Super-Responders can Protect Their Energetic Space and Get Through the Day.

Written by acclaimed psychologist and life coach Juliet Ostrov, the book was developed in response to the many clients who came to her feeling overwhelmed by the universe.

Ostrov says that if you are often accused of being too emotional, if your feelings are easily hurt and your nerves frayed by loud voices or heavy perfume, you may be a super-responder or, as she prefers to say, an empath.

“Empaths are a species unto themselves,” Ostrov told the Lantern in a telephone interview from her office in Taos, New Mexico. “They’re emotional tuning forks, responding to life with such intensity that they often find other people difficult to tolerate.”

In her book, Ostrov advises empaths to communicate their needs, likes, dislikes, and phobias to loved ones. This discussion is vital when starting a new relationship. In an emotionally fraught situation, like a first date, Ostrov advises bringing a written list. “Anyone who’s really into you will understand; only an insensitive clod will think you’re being neurotic,” she assured the Lantern.

Other tips from Ostrov’s book:

When forced to be in a public place, sit as far away from others, and as close to the door, as possible.

Establish energetic boundaries by putting your purse, coat, briefcase, or yoga mat on the seat next to you. This is essential in a doctor’s office (since empaths are more susceptible to germs) and when riding the bus or subway (especially during rush hour, when other people’s stress levels are likely to ratchet up the negative vibes entering your space).

For maximum protection, avoid public transportation entirely. Even carpooling should be limited, since you are likely to want to go home earlier than everyone else.

If you must share a hotel room with someone, bring an extra sheet from home to hang between the beds. (If you’re with your spouse or lover, this can be done after sex, obviously.)

“One of my former lovers actually swiped a ‘do not disturb’ sign from our hotel so I could hang it on the bedroom door when we got back home,” said Ostrov. “That was when I knew he truly honored my empathic needs.” Unfortunately, she added, they broke up soon afterwards.

A journey full of challenges

If an empath has not fully awakened to her heightened level of awareness, depression or panic attacks can ensue, Ostrov said. “When ensconced in a family, some empaths protect themselves by overeating. The extra weight helps buffer them from the intrusive energies of spouses, children, and parents.”

Other empaths are unable to commit to any kind of relationship, Ostrov said. They crave the intimacy of love, friends, and family, but they fear being smothered. “Sadly, the relationship usually ends after only a few dates—often because the empath doesn’t show up.”

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Super-responders are common enough that many people who fit the description are beginning to seek counseling, even medication. The American Psychiatric Association is considering adding “chronic empathic hyperresponsivity” to the forthcoming edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. The manual, known by the abbreviation DSM-5, is currently under preparation and is slated for release in May 2013.

The manual was previously known as DSM-V; however, the APA decided to abandon Roman numerals because so many people were calling their local Department of Motor Vehicles for psychological help.

According to Lola Geiger, the sole employee at the DMV branch office in Mercia, people call to discuss personal issues more often than might be expected.

“You hear it all in this line of work,” Geiger explained. “If we’re not busy, I try to be supportive. I went through one woman’s entire divorce with her before she realized she’d been dialing the number for registering vehicles that require placarding under the Hazardous Materials Regulations.”

Chronic empathic hyperresponsivity, said Geiger, is a new one. “But if wanting people to stay out of your face is a disease, then I’m guessing it’s endemic.”

It's all about perception

Mercia-based psychotherapist Jane Vaughan has mixed feelings about elevating what may be a perfectly normal, albeit exaggerated, trait to the level of a clinical mood disorder. “But unfortunately, if you’re going to bill an insurance company for treatment, you have to provide a diagnosis,” Vaughan told the Lantern.

Asked whether super-responders may simply be self-absorbed whiners who don’t want to hear about anyone’s problems but their own, Vaughan replied, “What am I supposed to do, tell my patients to get over themselves? I’d go broke if I limited my practice to people who actually have something wrong with them.”

Ostrov maintains that super-responsivity is a gift, not a disorder, and should be cultivated as such. “Once an empath learns to embrace her sensitivity, she can allow her own personal resonance to blossom and catalyze her sense of the wondrous.”

Until the DSM-5 comes out in 2013, anyone wondering whether she is a super-responder can check out the extensive questionnaire in The Empath’s Handbook. Ostrov’s book is no longer available in Mercia, however. Bookseller John Kells has stopped carrying spiritual and self-help books since acclaimed spiritual memoirist Terri Postlethwaite was injured at a reading and later sued both the store and the town (though the lawsuit was subsequently dropped). Kells also limits book signings to writers whose work is less apt to provoke violence, such as union leaders, commandoes, and bounty hunters.

For copies of The Empath’s Handbook, Kells recommends looking online or in any of the fine independent bookstores in neighboring towns.

Ask Dr. Diogenes

Dear Dr. Diogenes,

As part of a state-sponsored required reading program, my fourth-grade daughter has been assigned one of those “dystopian” novels. This one’s called Among the Splattered, part of a popular series entitled The Bludgeoned Children. A faceless, totalitarian government has taken over following an unspecified catastrophe, and a group of children is reduced to living in horrible circumstances which I won’t weary you by describing.

I understand that spoiled, self-obsessed teenagers may derive grim pleasure from reading authors who truly understand how miserable life is. But my daughter is only nine, and she and her classmates are perfectly good kids. Not only are these books inappropriate for the age group, but they’re poorly written to boot. Literary style and “voice” are nonexistent. There’s no sense of place (the children live in a generic housing development), no landscape, atmosphere, or even any weather to speak of. The characters are interchangeable, except for one feisty girl who exhorts her friends to rebellion and eventually gets shot by police. Worst of all is that, although the teacher insists that the stories are suspenseful, there’s no action and hence no dramatic structure. The entire book consists of the author telling us things. We’re even told about the shooting after the fact.

The other required books are just as dismal, with children living in war-torn regions, working in factories in countries with no child-labor laws, or running away from home to escape forced marriages. An alarming number of them seem to get gunned down at the age of thirteen. Does fourth-grade reading really have to wallow in violence and dysfunction? My favorite book in fourth grade was Anne of Green Gables, for heaven’s sake!

I’ve brought my concerns to the teacher and principal, only to be told that books for young people must be relevant to the present, carry a strong social message, and speak to the issues that contemporary readers face today. I would gladly tell my daughter that she has my permission not to read any of this junk, but she will be graded on her (required) book reports.

I should add that she is a bona fide bookworm, so giving her books that she doesn’t like takes some doing. Any advice?

Sign me….
Irrelevant Mom


Dear Irrelevant,

This calls for an update to the old adage: Those who can’t do, teach; those who can’t teach, teach gym; those who can’t teach gym, write novels; and those who can’t write novels get jobs with the state government and draw up mandatory reading lists.

I’d like to say that the days are gone when books used the power of language to dazzle, transport, amuse, and otherwise beguile the reader...that books today are written by social workers, not writers, and the power of language has become as irrelevant as you or I. But I hated the books I was assigned in school, and that was decades ago. So those days were gone even then.

The only crumb of comfort I can offer is that although your daughter may be required to read this drivel, she cannot be required to like it. She is perfectly free to write a report explaining why she didn’t like the book, as long as she expresses herself with courtesy and style and backs up her arguments with sound reasoning. She might get an F for disagreeing with the teacher no matter how courteous and reasonable she tries to be. But this will help her prepare for college.

If you and your daughter have a rebellious streak, you might take a long passage of authorly explanation and help your daughter rewrite the scene using action and events to tell the story.

If you and your daughter are women after Dr. Diogenes’ own heart, you could summarize classic works of children’s literature as they might appear on a state-mandated reading list. For example:

Pippi Longstocking has superhuman strength, a horse, a monkey, and no respect for authority--until a totalitarian government turns the Villa Villekula into a clog factory, where she is forced to work long hours before being gunned down at the age of thirteen by security guards for taking an illegal lunch break.

Laura Ingalls loves playing on the banks of Plum Creek and running barefoot across the prairie. But when she is kidnapped by the Lakota Sioux, their wisdom teaches her that her carefree life was made possible only by the expansionist policies of a racist government. She becomes a valued member of her adoptive tribe until she is gunned down at the age of thirteen by Confederate soldiers who mistake her for a Native American.

When Matthew and Merilla Cuthbert adopt an orphan, they’re expecting a boy to come and work in the fields of Green Gables. But the arrival of winsome, imaginative Anne Shirley leaves them baffled. They let her stay on because the orphanage is really a secret government research center where girls are forced to be organ donors. Toiling in the bitter winds of Prince Edward Island, Anne works long hours on the farm for many years, before being gunned down at the age of thirteen by Mounties trying to quell an uprising of impoverished fishermen.

Your daughter doesn’t necessarily have to hand these in, but please let Dr. Diogenes know what happens if she does. On second thought, don’t bother—it will probably become a townwide scandal. Who knows, you might end up in the newspapers and find yourself suddenly relevant!

Good luck, and hope she enjoys reading The Chronicles of Narnia under the covers with a flashlight.

Dr. D.

Omega-3s linked to higher stress levels, surprise study shows
Users may be uptight in the first place, experts say
By Elizabeth Norton

In a paradigm shift that has rocked the scientific community, a new study shows that the polyunsaturated fatty acids known as omega-3s—long touted for their health benefits—may actually ramp up the biochemical underpinnings of stress-related disorders.

After tracking a group of omega-3 users for six months, neurologist Richard Wakeman and colleagues at Granite Hill University, Mercia, found that common measurements, or “biomarkers,” of stress-related conditions were actually higher in subjects who took omega-3s than in people who opted for ordinary daily vitamins or did not use supplements at all.

“These results overturn months of scientific dogma,” said Wakeman. “Clearly it’s time to re-think the role of omega-3s in diet and health.”

Found in abundance in fish, nuts, flaxseed, and leafy green vegetables, omega-3s are thought to stimulate blood circulation, reduce inflammation, boost brain and immune function, and protect against cardiovascular disease and cancer.

But in the new study, published online this week in the journal Psychoneuroimmunogastroenterology, omega-3 users showed elevations in the most common biomarkers for stress-related illnesses: blood pressure, triglycerides, fibrinogen (a clotting factor that sets the stage for coronary artery disease and stroke), cortisol (a stress hormone), and C-reactive protein (a sign of inflammation considered to be a risk factor for heart disease).

“There’s no biological mechanism to explain these findings,” said Wakeman. “The only possible interpretation is that people who are willing to spend northwards of $50.00 on a bottle of fish oil are so uptight about their health that they end up stressing themselves out.”

Study design challenged

Critics of the study, including the National Association of Nutraceuticals Manufacturers and the American Alliance of Whole Foods Marketers, were quick to call the researchers’ methods into question.

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“It wasn’t a representative cohort,” said Philippa Pelkin, senior vice president of public relations at the Boston-based NANM, referring to the group of people studied. “There were only 15 participants, and they were all of similar age, weight, and socioeconomic status. It looks very much like the researchers hand-picked their subjects to get the result they wanted.”

“The cohort was totally representative of the type of person who goes around flogging omega-3s,” Wakeman said. “They were the most insufferable bunch of twits I’ve run into since medical school. I’d be stressed out too, if I were them.”

But endocrinologist Roger Waters of The Salk Institute, La Jolla, Calif., cited another caveat. The study was not a randomized, double blind, placebo-controlled trial (in which neither the subject nor the investigator knows which individuals receive the test substance versus placebo—an inert compound used for comparison, usually a sugar pill).

“You can’t infer anything from a small number of people who are all using the product on a regular basis,” said Barrett, who is also the editor of the journal Pseudopsychoendocrinology.

According to one of Wakeman’s co-authors, immunologist Chris Squire, attempts at a double-blind setup went awry when none of the omega-3 users would agree to the possibility of being in the placebo-treated group.

“They all said they spent a lot of time, money, and hard work on their bodies and they weren’t about to ingest something that might not be what was best for them,” said Squire. “Plus, none of them would risk eating anything with sugar in it.”

Asked whether the elevated stress biomarkers might be related to the subjects’ personalities, Squire declined to comment.

An omega-3 personality type?

Privacy rules prevented the Lantern from obtaining the names of study participants for interviews. But an informal survey in the supplements section of the Mercia Enlightened Market yielded a consistent profile of the typical omega-3 buyer. All were women between the ages of 25 and 40; weighed an average of 110 pounds; and wore Capri pants, Merrell sandals, and T-shirts with Sanskrit characters. Only a few agreed to be interviewed, and these gave only their first names.

Andrea, 30, bought an expeller-pressed, North Atlantic mackerel-based blend of oleic, linoleic, and Aramaic acids. “I jog ten miles a day, hit the gym four days a week, and grow all my own vegetables,” Andrea told the Lantern. “I don’t do meat, gluten, or dairy. Oh God, look at that chunky woman over there buying whole milk for her kids. No wonder they all have runny noses.”

Saiorse, 26, opted for flaxseed oil with lysergic acid. “I’m a vegan, and I eat only raw food because cooking makes it rot in your digestive tract,” she said. When asked about her stress levels, she replied, “Stress is a sign that the mind has not yet broken free of ego-based attachments. I do have $1500.00 worth of credit card debt after I bought a bamboo and hemp meditation chair, but that will enrich my spiritual life. Excuse me, I have to find a bathroom.”

Donna, 39, wondered which supplement to choose. “With the fish, you have to worry about toxic mercury levels. But the flaxseed capsules are big enough to choke an elephant. Goodness, is that the price?” As Donna began to show symptoms of a panic attack, a store employee quickly offered a free sample of an acai-yogurt slushy with probiotics and diazepam. Donna ultimately decided on a box of Paul Newman’s Own Whole-Grain Ricotta Macaroons and a bottle of organic lavender shower gel.

Questions still remain

So do omega-3s directly activate the physiological pathways of stress? Or are the people who take them a bunch of smug, sanctimonious tight-asses who drive their bodies past the breaking point in pursuit of beauty and fitness?

Wakeman, Squire, and colleagues are designing a follow-up study to solve the conundrum. “It will take some doing,” Wakeman admits. “In addition to tracking down all the jerks from last time, we’ll have to come up with a group of good-natured, easy-going omega-3 users for comparison. Where we find those is anybody’s guess.”

Pelkin still maintains the study was slanted to discredit the whole-foods movement. “Scientists from the medicotechnopharamacological establishment can’t handle the fact that natural products are superior to what they synthesize in their labs. I and millions of others use only products made from organic, locally grown, sustainably harvested plants. Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Best-selling author drops lawsuit, buys business, residence
By Cornelia Quirke

In a turnaround that her lawyers describe as striking, acclaimed spiritual memoirist Terri Postlethwaite has called off her multimillion-dollar lawsuit against the Town of Mercia and instead has purchased a Main Street store and a Victorian-era mansion a few miles from the village center.

Postlethwaite is the author of OMG That Is the Coolest Thing I Never Heard: How I Kept Silence, Found Myself, and Saved My Marriage. The memoir, a 793-page account of a week long silent retreat in the Himalayas, has been on the bestseller list for three years.

The writer had filed suit against the town following injuries sustained during a book signing at the Books of Kells, Mercia's independent bookstore. She was reading from her follow-up memoir, Actionable: One Woman’s Account of a Bitter Divorce and the Lawsuit that Followed, when an unidentified audience member hurled a copy at her. The author suffered a mild concussion and a laceration requiring three stitches.

Postlethwaite initially claimed that the injuries had adversely affected her writing, causing her to sound “ditzy and narcissistic.”

But during subsequent visits to Firkin, Grabb, and Wynche, Mercia's combination emergency clinic and personal injury law firm, she became enamored of the town’s rural New England character and wished for a more “synergistic” relationship.

“The mountain energies will nurture my writing, and the yogic items I sell in my shop will help raise the consciousness of any residents who have not yet begun to make the spiritual shift,” Postlethwaite told the Lantern.

The author added that although her writing has transformed the lives of millions of readers around the world, being bludgeoned with one of her own books is relatively unusual.

Postlethwaite’s new boutique at the intersection of Lantern and Main Streets will offer jewelry, books, rugs, and candle holders—as well as her own line of OMG fragrances and cosmetics, named after her first book. She also plans to sell artisanal pieces from the countries she toured for her book and has already placed an order for a pair of twelve-foot-high, seven-ton stone elephants from Indonesia.

Local reactions mixed

Few town residents would comment on Postlethwaite’s decision, fearing they might end up in a lawsuit—or worse, another of the author’s memoirs.

A source at Firkin, Grabbe, and Wynche told the Lantern that despite public statements to the contrary, Postlethwaite’s change of heart came as no surprise. “Town attorneys were building a convincing case that her writing after the head injury was no more vapid than it had ever been,” said the employee, who spoke on condition of anonymity.

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Meg Frobisher, mayor of Mercia and a lifelong resident, said, “Of course we’re happy whenever someone opens a new business instead of suing us into next week.” The mayor added that she is personally unfamiliar with Postlethwaite’s work. “I don’t read spiritual memoirs—I gave them up for Lent.”

Reminded that it is only February, Frobisher clarified: “This was Lent of 1992. I’m very devout.”

Bookseller Francis Kells, who was also named in the lawsuit, expressed relief that Postlethwaite would not pursue legal action. As a result of the recent unpleasantness, Kells no longer hosts gatherings related to yoga, spirituality, or raw food. Book signings are now limited to writers whose work is less apt to incite violence, such as ex-Green Berets, bounty hunters, labor union leaders, and televangelists.

Kells spoke with the Lantern while setting up for “Monday Night Illuminations,” at which former U.S. Marshall Savannah Stanforth will read from her memoir, Nice Try, You F***er: Ten Years on the Road Catching Deadbeat Dads.

He said the location of Postlethwaite’s new shop (across the street from the Books of Kells) should pose no threat to his bookstore. “Her boutique’s appeal is, uh—well, let’s say it’s specifically targeted. I’m guessing there’ll be enough business to go around.”

Next on the horizon

In addition to unveiling her downtown store, Postlethwaite has begun renovating her new home, the crumbling Victorian mansion on Granite Hill Road built in 1894 by the duck-boot magnate Beachtree Manningcroft. The house has stood empty since the early 1980s, when the millionaire’s great-great grandson, Jason Manningcroft, leaped to his death from the widow’s walk after more than 1,500 publishers rejected a memoir of his days in the Peace Corps.

To transmute the negative energies accumulated during the house’s past, Postlethwaite is installing a Japanese soaking tub, an exercise area covered with tatami mats, a Mexican palaver sink, and a circle of hand-quarried floor tiles embedded with Devonian-age fossils in the foyer.

“The tile at the very center is imprinted with the flagellum of a glyptodont,” said Postlethwaite. “It's the first thing my guests will see when they enter the house—if they’re looking straight down, that is.”

Neither the house’s dark history nor the injuries from the book signing raise any real concerns for the future, Postlethwaite says.

“The town of Mercia sits at the center of a powerful energy vortex, which could very well provoke hostility in the less enlightened. I feel it’s up to me to channel these forces and re-direct them toward the highest good.”

The highest good will soon benefit from the movie version of OMG, now being adapted by Postlethwaite for the wide screen. Actress Noleen Shackler, formerly of Mercia and now living in Los Angeles, has reportedly screen tested for the leading role.

“It would be awesome if a Mercia actress played me in the film,” said Postlethwaite, “provided she’s able to convey the psychological complexity of my character.”

A more personal goal for Postlethwaite is to learn more about the local flora and fauna, especially birds. “But I want to do more than make lists of names,” she says. “I want to know the lives of the birds of this place, how they live and sing and work within their part of the universe.”

Mercia Bird Club President Jane Thornwell, contacted by phone at the Heron Pond Nature Center and Land Trust, was happy to comment and did so at length. Unfortunately, none of her remarks could be printed in this newspaper.

Merry Christmas, Angus Podgorny

Late on Christmas Eve I was outside looking for a cat. There are lovely legends of the animals on this holy night—that the beasts in the stable kneel down at midnight, that between dusk and morning all animals have the power of human speech. But I was not hoping to creep up on a miracle. Only walking along the edge of the woods in the bitter cold, under the blue-bright stars--rattling a cup of dry food like a Salvation Army Santa ringing his bell, trying to get Angus to come in for the night.

He had shown up on our property at the end of the summer wearing a white flea collar on which someone had written “HELP ME ADOPT ME TAKE ME TO VET.” So like idiots we did, even though we already had two cats and Kevin thinks three is “critical cat mass”— any more qualifies as peculiar. And it does seem that people seldom have four cats; they either have three or fewer, or ten or more.

Angus was perfectly friendly at first, running from the woods to greet us whenever we came out of the house or drove up in the car. But once we started letting him inside he became truculent, curling up in the dining room where the other two cats never hang out, avoiding eye contact, and emitting a high-pitched tone of complaint when petted too long.

It’s true that Angus does not like the other cats and hisses any time they pass by—though he has never had any problem with the dog. It’s also possible that he’s a wanderer at heart and feels insecure in a house. He was, of course, abandoned—he had a note.

But Kevin thinks the cat is mentally subnormal. After a few false starts we named him for the shop owner in the Monty Python sketch who sells 48 million kilts to a giant blancmange from the Andromeda galaxy (which is turning the inhabitants of England into tennis-impaired Scotsmen so that it can win Wimbledon)--causing his wife (Terry Jones in a dress) to exclaim, “Och, you’re a stupid man, Angus Podgorny!”

Once Angus was officially ours he spent as little time indoors as possible—first sleeping in the hayloft or on a blanket in the garage, and ranging even farther afield as the weather grew colder. When an early, light snow fell in October he took off as usual after breakfast, and we found his delicate pawprints heading straight into the woods.

This even I began to take personally. Throughout the fall, as Angus became more sullen, giving an ever-clearer impression of coming back only when absolutely necessary, I reflected that man’s love for animalkind is contingent on the animal’s behaving in a way we find pleasing. I wondered whether it’s possible to truly love a cat who not only doesn’t like us but is at pains to pretend he doesn’t live here.

Angus turned up on Christmas Day, shortly before we left to have dinner with friends. He scurried through the door without looking at us and reported to the corner where we keep his dish, walled off from the dog by two dining room chairs. After I fed him he jumped onto one of the cushions. I stroked him very gently. He purred almost inaudibly for a brief moment, then bit my hand, but not too hard, and curled up with his face to the wall.

If I had found him on Christmas Eve, and he did have the gift of speech, I’m not sure I’d have wanted to hear what he had to say.

--From the journal of Cornelia Quirke

Ask Dr. Diogenes

Dear Dr. Diogenes,

I recently completed a comprehensive program of training in Vindalu Yoga, and I’m now looking for a place to teach my classes. When I contacted a church in Northumbria to ask about renting their Fellowship Space, they declined because they see yoga as a “false religion.”

I feel all religion is false, with its unquestioning adherence to doctrine and emphasis on division and exclusion. Yoga, by contrast, teaches compassion and respect for all sentient beings. How can I help the church to see how wrong they are and embrace a truly spiritual path?

The more open-minded churches in Mercia already offer yoga programs. And the only yoga center in town, the Granite Hill Ashram, is run by a woman who teaches Tandoori Yoga and won’t hire anyone trained in a different method—even though Vindalu Yoga is an older and far superior discipline. I for one spent a month studying in India and received Bhaji Awakening from the fully released master Masala Dosa Ram.

Any insight into my present situation would be appreciated. It’s difficult to remaining one-pointed in the face of so much ignorance and intolerance.

Namaste,
Ananda Caitlin Ma


Dear Ananda Caitlin,

You’re half right. All religion is false—if it is merely an attempt at ego gratification that’s taken on a religious or “spiritual” guise. Unfortunately, the same is true even if your religion happens to be yoga, atheism, environmentalism, art, or anything else.

As long as you have to be right, and make wrong those who do not agree with you—as long as you must establish the superiority of your own path—you are in the grip of the ego. It makes no difference which form the ego assumes. Whether you have accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior, or can stick your leg behind your head in yoga class, or don’t personally feel the need for organized religion, is irrelevant—if you feel that this distinction puts you above someone else.

With regard to your problem: Since every church in town already hosts a yoga program, Dr. Diogenes is inclined to wonder whether Mercia really needs another one—or whether Northumbria needs one at all. But if you must, and if your own brand of yoga is so superior, nothing is stopping you from starting a yoga studio of your own. A church is entitled to limit its activities to those that are congruent with its beliefs. In any event, no one has ever succeeded in convincing anyone else how wrong they are.

Sorry not to be more help, but the only real advice I can offer is to do yourself a favor and stay the hell out of Northumbria, where yoga instructors are shot on sight.

Later,
Dr. D.

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Accepting what is

Two animal crises within the past week. On Thursday night Angus, our most recent cat, didn’t come home. I found him mid-morning Friday, curled up in the hayloft with the left side of his face slashed and bloody. All I could see of his eye was a thick white glop. Luckily it was just inflammation and the nictitating membrane. The vet thought he must have put his head down a hole that was already occupied, coming away with some bad bites to his eyelid, nose, and muzzle, but nothing worse. He’s still on pain medication and antibiotics.

Then on Monday our Lab mix, Oscar, began vomiting. The vet prescribed anti-nausea medication but warned us to bring him back if it didn’t work. By Wednesday morning when I had him out on the leash, he was still retching and grimacing. I tried to keep him walking, as one does with horses, to help the digestive process along. But he gave me the mildest, most courteous look out of his soft brown eyes, and graciously lay down in some leaves.

It was then that I brought him back to the vet. Two days and nearly $3,000 later, he’d had emergency surgery to remove a piece of corn cob which had previously been eaten and excreted by a deer and was now lodged in Oscar’s duodenum—along with deer hair, droppings, and a toxic broth of the sort of bacteria that allow deer to digest the rough, barky things they eat. The vet said another six hours and Oscar would have died. The pain must have been extreme.

I had been brooding for weeks about that which was lost, unachieved, or otherwise unacceptable in my life. But when my animals got into trouble I was brought back to earth, struck by the difference between human and animal suffering. Humans are the only species to suffer because of what is not happening—a relationship not realized, a child not conceived, a novel not published, a desired self-image insufficiently upheld. Even though pain cannot be caused by something that isn’t there, but only by the perceived unacceptability of that thing’s absence.

My dog, on the other hand, went about his day with a load of sludge in his belly, without reference to what he might deem acceptable. He lay drooling and grimacing on the floor by my desk and walked on the leash as long as his legs would hold him up, while misery rippled out of him and his mild gaze became only more luminous. Even the cat—who is normally concerned solely with what he wants or doesn’t want—instead of crying and scratching at the door for help simply gave himself over to his pain and curled up on a hay bale.

Strange that a human being, with the power to supply whatever is needed, will go on clutching at a wholly unnecessary grief when something longed for fails to materialize—while an animal in the grip of a very real pain asks only to be allowed to lie down.

--From the journal of Cornelia Quirke