Who did what, what happened to that one and how? So many questions, and finding their answers, that is what we preoccupy our life with. Finding the answers. And then, their connotations and denotations dissolve. The answers to the questions, the questions to the answers, all end. The answers lose their meaning and seem so unnecessary.

Come to think of it we rationalize for all our acts and deeds. As if there was a trophy at stake. Forgetting altogether that we might win arguments with others but what of our own self? For the good things we love to take the credit, for the bad ones it was always the other one to blame. Or the usual destiny? So what do we make of it all?

Our body is a house. It grows with time, with the family of experiences and needs. It has windows and doors. We have to see how much sunlight we have to take in and how much fresh air. So that it is a refreshing place, where the soul can preside without the fear of getting sick. But it is not easy. It is attacked by storms and severe weather conditions—pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed and sloth, or mild conditions—the white lies, little sarcastic remarks and taunts, good enough to hurt someone. And these guests—they just slip into the home—unawares. And thus starts the accumulation of infinitesimal dust and the massive grime and cobwebs of the seven deadly sins.

And we go on hoarding it all.

Do not we have to clean the house everyday? Clear it of the dust and mite and cobwebs that settle here and there. Check out the nooks and corners. What we need is an organic detoxification. Not just going to gyms, exercising the body, but our whole self—that includes the mind and soul. The home which has doors also need to be shut when need be. They are also for defense against physical and spiritual pollutants. Don’t we shut our eyes when we see something unpleasant? It is just the same. Finally, it is all about clearing the mess.

The questions and answers will liquidate eventually, but the trueness of it all would still remain—that we made an effort to keep it sparkling clean.

With Love,
Manjit

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About the Artist: Bhupinder Singh is a talented painter and graphic designer. He has bagged prizes in various competitions in India and Australia. He currently lives in Sydney, Australia.

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2. Bawdy
a) Respectable
b) Neutral
c) Related to a brothel
d) Indecent

3. Caudal
a) Near tail or rear end
b) Related to a fish
c) Front portion of an animal
d) Related to human anatomy

4. Fizz
a) An ornament
b) To make a hissing or sputtering sound
c) A gaseous drink
d) Pertaining to an entertainment

5. Heedless
a) Careless
b) Without any sense
c) Uneven surface
d) Without a rudder

6. Languor
a) Lack of energy
b) Full of vitality
c) Sluggish person
d) Wet

7. Photophobia
a) Fear of plants
b) Fear of closed places
c) A congenital disorder of eyes
d) Fear of light

8. Samadhi
a) A resting place
b) An Indian spicy food
c) A stage of acute concentration or full enlightenment
d) Related to or of sainthood

9. Transmogrify
a) Transform
b) Massive structural deformation
c) Cellular death
d) Coloration of leaves

10. Zombify
a) To turn into a zombie
b) Change for worse
c) Behaving like an ape
d) None of the above

Answers:

1. (c) 2. (d) 3. (a) 4. (b) 5 (a) 6 (a) 7 (d) 8 (c) 9. (a) 10 (a)

Your Score:

8-10 Excellent
5-7 Good
1-4 Need improvement

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One is dubbed as scientific, totally evidence-based and the other, mere refined charlatanism or a remnant of primitive Medicare system before the advent of the so-called ‘miracle drugs’ or ‘surgical’ procedures.

But is it really true?

Is all modern medicine evidence-based and the evidence all incontrovertible? Are the complementary systems nothing more than refined quackery? What is the real truth behind the ‘evidence-based’ medicine and the ‘softness’ of complementary treatment? Are they rightly clubbed into categories with the former calling the shots and the latter languishing in the dog house for the want of so-called ‘evidence’?

These and other important questions are picked by Toby Murcott in this thought provoking book. One thing, in addition to lot others, which makes this book worth reading by modern medical specialists, alternative practitioners and the general consumer, is that, it confronts us with the ‘evidence or lack thereof’ from both the sides. He takes to task the often-claimed infallibility of randomized controlled designs, a gold standard in research methodology by bringing out the evidence that it is not as infallible as it has been portrayed. It may be the best available tool for research, but is definitely not flawless. “It is not, however, all powerful. There are limits to what such trials can discover and what it can be used to investigate” (pg 78).

Every hypothesis is based on current understanding and “discoveries are made at the limits of scientists’ abilities” (pg 17). Because our current understanding of the biological phenomenon is based on the mechanistic principles, the scientists tend to trash anything which does not fit into the current framework. This works to the advantage of modern medicine—every thing is based on mechanistic thinking: the hypothesis, randomized controlled-designs and data interpretation. Given that, the alternative medicine practitioners are always driven to the fringes because of the lack of so-called evidence. For alternative medical practitioners, the eventual success of the treatment process depends not only on the administration of a drug but also on the quality of the doctor-patient relationship. In this equation, subjectivity plays a pivotal role while in conventional science this element is considered a sort of anomaly, a persona non grata. “Double blind randomized controlled trials are poor at assessing long-term interventions. They are poor at evaluating treatments that rely on the therapist-patient relationships” (pg 83).

If alternative therapies are all junk science, as some people tend to believe, Toby Murcott asks, why are people using them? Why has their popularity gone up substantially despite all the negative attention from the proponents of conventional medicine?

Is there something we are missing?

Toby Murcott challenges the scientists in the domain where they are “supposed” to be good at—impartial thinking. By presenting facts from both the sides of the table he floats a convincing argument that scientists should shed their prejudicial thinking and devise strategies to understand and research alternative therapies because “rejecting complementary therapies purely on the grounds that they have not been fully tested is inconsistent” (pg 161). By doing so, he argues, they may find the missing link to good healing which they are looking for only in randomized controlled experiments of the modern medicine—the-not-so-gold-standard-anymore.

Regardless of your affiliations and training, you must read this book.

THE WHOLE STORY
Alternative Medicine on trial?
TOBY MURCOTT
MacMillan Publishing, 2005
Hardbound, $36.95, Pg. 173
Category: Science/Alternative Medicine

About the Author: Toby Murcott did his PhD and postdoctoral research in biochemistry at Bristol University, UK. He is a leading science writer, journalist and broadcasters. He currently has a regular column about alternative medicine in the The Times newspaper. He was for many years the science correspondent for BBC World Service Radio before becoming the Editorial Director of Einstein TV, a digital science channel.

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All self-propelled travellers have places that stick in their minds. They come to places slowly. A fact - all self-propelled travellers "come to places slowly". These are places that linger poetically in one's mind years later and come to the forefront of long distance gazes and imaginative daydreams. One might inadvertently ponder at the oddest times, "I wonder what it is like at "X" now. This might help explain those "blank looks" not uncommon to otherwise urban dwellers who are also travellers in Canada's wild lands.

The Canadian bush, also referred to by Robert Service as the land "back of beyond," or described to Labrador traveller Elliott Merrick as the "country way back in," is perhaps too immense to be grasped as a whole. But it is a good exercise of the mind to try. Rather, we connect with places; places that allow us to extend our thoughts to the whole of the "beyond" and "way back in." Each such particular place can be informing to one's spirit or soul. The necessary "time out" must be taken to consider spiritual meanings and mysteries linked to the place. I have always loved the idea of the German visionary Goethe that, truth and mystery were dancing partners. A favourite campsite, a once-visited lake, a hilltop winter view from snowshoes, a particular waterfall, that one portage: these areas are all possible "Xs" that inform. Likely they are places where we have settled, quietly and serenely, allowing the setting to wrap around us. We all have such places that we have internalized at the gut level where the relationship between the beholder and the beheld epitomizes adventure, beauty, truth and mystery. The first three of these constitute "civilized virtues" for philosopher Alfred North Whitehead.

Nueltin Lake straddling the Manitoba/Nunavut border is such a place for me. I associate the lake with the best of a 40-plus day canoe trip in 1983. I also associate the lake (140 miles long) with people, although it is relatively without people now.

Labrador casts a spell on the mind. It is beautiful and haunting at the same time. Its stories are harsh and rough. Its travellers go to the extremes though I have found my trips there mostly calm and gentle. One can connect its particular heritage stories to the whole of its landscapes.

The Yukon is a vast sweeping-view country. The place is dominated by the mighty Yukon River, which in turn is forever connected with the Gold Rush of 1897-99. My chance discovery of a seasonal Native Peoples walking migration route from the coast to the interior serves as a constant reminder though, that what the Klondikers perceived as "wilderness" and/or "the frontier" of the North is also a place called Home to particular First Nation's groups.

The excursion model of life is well and good and I, like many Canadians, have developed seasonal life patterns based on travel outings near and far; the so-called weekend warrior (I'd rather think of it as wanderer) and the extended tripper. But while one may aspire towards a feeling of home in, say, the boreal forest, we might settle elsewhere. And that elsewhere should not be neglected for the exploration and stories it can offer. I worry the traveller tends to neglect, or at worst, negate the settled home as a site of inquiry and meaning. We should especially make "places" out of where we live, hopefully with a similar level of passion brought to the next exotic destination.

There are sacred and special places out there. You will know it when you are there. It might be so because you have been so told or you might discover one place peculiarly special to just you and a particular time and space. Sacred can mean public-a cultural place-or private, meaning a personal place. Most often the public or cultural ones have layer upon layer of culture significance or sacredness. The private ones just hit you-wow-and stay with you. Both, themes of place, the cultural and the personal, can be set apart in our mind and hallowed for the qualities they inspire in us. I have been particularly fascinated with prominent rock sites and ceremonial initiation sites along the transcontinental voyageur canoe routes.

In the general study of Literature, Geography and Outdoor/Environmental Education there is a unifying label now called "place-based" studies. This label points to one of among many signs of an emerging rethinking focusing us back towards the earth. Eminent Canadian scientist Stan Rowe captures this hope of a return to what we have neverleft:

Now we are struggling to understand what it might mean to become complaint co-operators with Earth's Ecosystems, hitherto insensitively appropriated as our resources and our heritage. What monumental conceit!

Now we are rediscovering "our place" and the notion of a place both as home and as worthy of our time, and rediscovering the need to dedicate time for "place-based" studies linked to our well-being. Again Stan Rowe, in writing about Grey Owl said; "For him. the spiritual dimension of wilderness experience [and our local home environments] was foremost-the antidote to humanity's preoccupation with itself." I do believe we are slowly moving away from a monumental conceit towards a humbler engagement with place.

Extracted from Every Trail has a Story by Bob Henderson| Published by Natural Heritage Books, Toronto, 2005 | ISBN 1896219-97-7

About the Author: Bob Henderson teaches Outdoor Education at McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario. Starting as a camper and a canoe-tripping staff member at Camp Ahmek in Algonquin Park, he has developed a lifelong interest in Canadian travel heritage and travel guiding. Beginning in 1994, he continues to write a regular heritage travel feature for Kanawa Magazine. In 1995, Bob completed his PhD concerning approaches to travel guiding from the University of Alberta. He takes pride in baking a golden brown bannock and leading a spirited campfire singsong.

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It developed as an integral part of the code of bushido. Bushido refers to the moral code principals that developed among the Samurai (military) class of Japan, on the basis of a national tradition influenced by Zen and Confucianism. The first use of the term apparently came into being during the civil war of 16th century and its precise content varied historically as Samurai standards evolved. The one unchanging ideal however was the martial spirit that included athletic/military skills and a fearless confrontation of the enemy in battle. Apart from that frugal living, kindness and honesty were highly looked upon. Like Confucianism, Bushido required filial piety; but, originating in the feudal system, it also believed that the supreme honor was to serve one's lord unto death. If these obligations were unfulfilled, the Samurai was bound by loyalty to his lord in spite of the suffering he might cause to his parents.

The final validation of the Bushido thought occurred during the Tokugawa period (17th century), when Yamaga Soko (1622-85) equated the Samurai with the Confucian "superior man" and qualified that his essential function was to set an example of virtue to the lower classes. Without disregarding the basic Confucian virtue of benevolence, Soko emphasized a second virtue, righteousness, which he interpreted as "obligation" or "duty". According to this strict code of honor, obedience to authority was stressed, but duty came first even if it entailed violation of law. In such an instance, a true Samurai would prove his sincerity and expiate his crime against the government by subsequently ending his own life.

By the mid-19th century, Bushido standards had become a general ideal, and the legal abolition of the Samurai class in 1871 made Bushido even more the property of the entire nation. With the emperor replacing the feudal lord, the authority demanding loyalty and sacrifice, Bushido became the foundation of ethical training. As such, it contributed both to the rise of Japanese nationalism and the strengthening of wartime civilian morale up to 1945.

Common to Bushido and the discipline of the Samurai warrior class, Hara-kiri, which literally means "stomach cutting”, is a particularly painful method of self-destruction. Prior to the emergence of the Samurai as a professional warrior class, it was totally foreign to the Japanese.

The early history of Japan reveals quite clearly that the Japanese were far more interested in living a good and pleasant life rather than dying a painful death. It was not until after the introduction of Buddhism, and its emphasis on the transitory nature of life, or the glorification of death, that such a development came into being. To a Samurai, seppuku, whether received as an order and punishment or chosen in preference to a dishonorable death at the hands of an enemy, was an unquestionable manifestation of honor, courage, loyalty, and moral character.

When collective Samurai were on the battlefield, they often carried out acts of hara-kiri rapidly and with very little formal preparation. But on other occasions, particularly when it was ordered by a feudal lord, seppuku or hara-kiri was a formal ceremony, requiring certain etiquette, witnesses and considerable preparation.

Not all Japanese Samurai or lords believed in the custom although most of them followed it sincerely. The great Ieyasu Tokugawa, founder of Japan's last Shogunate dynasty in 1603, eventually issued a proclamation forbidding hara-kiri. The custom was however so deeply ingrained, that it continued, so finally in the year 1663, at the urging of Lord Nobutsuna Matsudaira of Izu, the Shogunate government issued another proclamation, prohibiting ritual suicide. This was followed by stern punishment for any lord who allowed any of his followers to commit hara-kiri or seppuku. The practice declined considerably as time went by.

Honor for the Samurai was dearer than his life and in many cases, self destruction was regarded not simply right, but as the only right course. Disgrace and defeat were atoned by committing hara-kiri or seppuku. Upon the death of a daimyo (during the long Tokugawa Shogunate (1616-1867), Japan was divided into fiefs which were presided over by feudal lords known as daimyo (pronounced as dime-yo) which literally means, "great name"), loyal followers could show their grief and affection for their master by committing hara-kiri. Other reasons for which a Samurai committed seppuku included showing contempt for the enemy, protesting against injustice and consequently as a means to get their lord to reconsider an unwise or unworthy action and finally as a way to save the progeny.

The ritual for disembowelment was to be performed unflinchingly. The condemned man received a jeweled dagger from the authorities and he plunged the dagger into the left side of his abdomen, drew it across to the right, and made a slight cut upward; his second (the most conspicuous participant, other than the victim, was the kaishaku (pronounced kie-shah-kuu) or the assistant, who was responsible for cutting off the victim's head after he had sliced his abdomen open, generally a close friend or an associate of the condemned) then beheaded him with one stroke and the dagger was returned to the authorities. If condemned to death, it was held to be a privilege to execute the sentence on one's own body rather than being a disgrace and die at the hands of the public headsman.

The location of an officially ordered seppuku ceremony was equally important. Often the ritual was performed at a temple, in the garden/villas and inside homes. The size of the area available was also important, as it was prescribed precisely for a Samurai of high rank. All the matters relating to the act were carefully prescribed and carried out meticulously.

Obligatory hara-kiri might have been abolished long back but its voluntary form persisted for ages. It was performed by 40 military men in 1895 as a protest against the return of a conquered territory of the Liaotung peninsula to China by General Nogi on the death of Emperor Meiji in 1912. It was also performed by numerous soldiers as an alternative to surrender in World War II. Hara-kiri was much discussed in recent years in connection with the death of Mishima in 1970, a well-known novelist and a rightist political leader.

Although suicide is deplored in Japan today, it does not have the same sinful overtones as they are interpreted in the west. People still kill themselves when they fail in business, get entangled in love triangles or even fail in examinations. Death is still a better choice than losing one’s honor.

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Born and raised in Canada, Barbara was the third of the four children and the only one with a physical problem i.e. asthma. She nearly died of it at six months but survived. The story of a fighter was in the making. At the age of 13 she was determined not to spend another day in bed with asthma and she didn’t. At the age of 50 she cured it completely with jogging.

Married to a loving man Kem (she was 24 and he 22), they had four children, two boys and two girls. Three children were “easy to raise” as she “loved mothering”. Heather, the second child “was difficult”. Heather was more of a “free spirit” and when she was around nine years old, Barbara heard a voice that said, “You are not allowing her to be a child”. That is when she and Kem began going to “personal growth” workshops and before late Barbara knew she herself had to “change”, “stop controlling her child” or “finding fault with her”. She had been trying to “control and discipline her with anger” which needed to change and “she did” change her strategy and let her daughter be.

Heather bloomed into a lovely teenager, sailed well through high school and went to the University of Waterloo. But within a year she returned with a negative feeling towards the Canadian Universities. Now she decided to take care of a man in Belville, Burlington, suffering from quadroplegia. She did not complete her education but although she had no training of patient care, she did a magnificent job with this man. No one in the family forced or imposed anything on her and she was to find her own path. She was around 21 at that time. Later she decided to go to Vermont, U.S.A. and joined a free style “chose-your-own-curriculum” school. But before long she returned home and refused to go back again. By this time she was not in a healthy state of mind and was already into alcohol and drugs. It was around this time she could have been traced clearly as being bi-polar, something which was diagnosed quite late in her life, as Barbara reminisces.

She was home in Belville from May to September and Barbara and Kem usually spent summers in their cottage. On their return from the cottage they were aghast to see that Heather had turned the whole setting of the home topsy turvy. She had taken all the pictures from the living, dinning and bed rooms and hung them in the kitchen; hammered nails wherever she wanted and moved all the furniture around. Unaware of her mental condition they told her to leave the house. An alcoholic now, Heather married a native named Carl who was not only an alcoholic but uneducated and unemployed as well. Barbara was told three days after the marriage. It was an unhappy marriage; Carl went to jail twice and even Heather left him twice as he used to beat her up. On one occasion he even stabbed her in the belly when she was pregnant and fortunately missed the baby. But she kept going back to him. She had three babies with him and since none of them worked, they were always on Social Welfare. It was about four years of their marriage when Carl killed himself. He was drunk walking up the highway with two bottles of beer in his hands and got hit by a car.

Heather was still an alcoholic and was unable to take care of her kids. Terrified for the kids, Barbara and Kem called the Children’s Aid for help. Barbara’s eldest son Steven (a doctor by now) and his wife Fay were ready to adopt the kids but that did not work out. They were then sent to foster families. Heather kept unwell but had three more kids from different men. All the kids were taken away by foster families. The worst part was that she refused any kind of medication. Later in life Barbara took her to a psychiatrist and that is when she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. And that is when Heather moved to Brockville and agreed upon medication. This was around eight years ago and ever since she has been moving toward a healthy state of mind. She has been in detox centers and has doctors and counselors taking care of her. Although it is not a smooth journey and there are constant ups and downs, yet it is to Heather’s credit that she “starts it over and over again”. Heather does feel guilty about not having been able to look after her kids and hopes to see them in future when they grow up.

Within a year of Carl’s death, Barbara’s husband, Kem committed suicide. That was something Barbara found very difficult to come to terms with. She remembers he was undergoing depression, the cause of which was not known, either to him or to Barbara, but Barbara never expected it to go this far. In fact, Kem’s suicide was well planned. He drowned himself at their cottage wearing his work boots and chaining his ankles prior to which he had taken some sedatives. That was the time they were both doing personal growth workshops and she was feeling “strong, happy and spiritually centered”, a time when suicide was a remote thought on her mind. Kem did mention about committing suicide twice and as a response to which she had taken him to a psychiatrist. But the suicide was a blow to her psyche. In fact she herself behaved suicidal after that. But she survived it all.

Barbara’s coping strategies: Years and years of medication, huge support from friends (specifically mentions her doctor Karen Trollope and her husband Pradeep Kumar) and relatives and her own “determination to live”. Also she did not want to put her other kids through the pain of a “second parent committing suicide”.

Her message to the readers: “I had to personally go through the fire of pain (both physical and psychological) to get to the other side, so face your challenge yourself. . . .” As a wife, perhaps I could have pushed my husband further for help, or held him more, but I was ignorant. As a mother, the gift of Heather’s lifestyle is that “I kept opening . . . and all judgments against other people dropped”. My life has been a journey “towards spiritual progression, towards perfection, towards wholeness and towards unconditional love”.

Her favorite one liner: “Be still and know that I am God.”

A yoga practitioner, Barbara readily volunteers at various places in the community. A resident of Hamilton Ontario, she recently moved to Halliburton, Ontario. There are few people in any given community who inspire a person enough to go on and fewer who never fail to delight you.

Barbara is one of them!

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Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins
That may buy you just a moment of pleasure,
But then drag you for days
Like a broken man
Behind a farting camel.
—Hafiz, the Sufi Poet

If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear as it is, infinite.
—William Blake

In enjoyment is the fear of disease,
In high birth, the fear of losing caste,
In wealth, the fear of tyrants,
In honor, the fear of losing it,
In strength, the fear of enemies,
In beauty, the fear of old age,
In knowledge, the fear of defeat,
In virtue, the fear of scandal,
In the body, the fear of death.
In this life all is fraught with fear:
Renunciation alone is fearless.
—Vedanta

Open your eyes: see things for what they really are, thereby sparing yourself the pain of false attachments and avoidable devastation.
—Epictetus

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