Sawadeeka (Greetings in Thai) Why Thailand? I’m asked that question every time I mention my vacation plans for this coming December, 2015. The answer has to do with Jami Sieber, a former neighbor in The Commons—my co-housing community. Jami, a well-known electric cellist, plays hauntingly evocative music she composes herself. In 2001 Jami was invited to Thailand to compose the music for a film about the plight of Asian elephants. Since meeting and falling in love with these magnificent animals, Jami has been devotedly involved in the Asian elephant crisis. She has released a CD recording, “Hidden Sky,” which benefits elephant … Continue reading
Category Archives: Memoir
Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese Buddhist monk, beloved by many, said: “It is possible that the next Buddha will not take the form of an individual. The next Buddha may take the form of a community—a community practicing understanding and loving kindness, a community practicing mindful living. This may be the most important thing we can do for the survival of the earth.” The idea of co-housing communities originated in Denmark in the early 1980s. The concept spread rapidly. There are now hundreds of co-housing communities worldwide. The majority of these communities are found in the U.S, Europe, Australia and New … Continue reading
There’s a refrain you might have heard or used as a kid in response to insults hurled your way. “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” Did you really believe that words could never hurt you? As a fourth year medical student I had a deeply disturbing experience that permanently changed the way I speak to my patients. During my two-month rotation in the pulmonary department, I learned about all sorts of conditions related to the respiratory tract. My job was to take a complete history and perform an abbreviated physical exam on each … Continue reading
I’m naked. My head is shaved. I’m running for my life between endless rows of small barracks, fierce barking dogs biting at my heels. I turn and look. Behind the dogs the same SS guards who shaved my head are chasing me. I know they want to catch me and throw me into the gas chamber. They are gaining on me. I keep running as fast as I can, but they keep gaining on me. I glance behind as one of the guards has raised his pistol and is about to strike me. I gasp for air, and find myself … Continue reading
July 1st, the first day of internship at Mercy Medical Center in Denver, Colorado, began at 7 am on the run. As I entered the hospital lobby in my brand new, starchy white lab coat, I heard the operators’ steady stream of messages on the overhead pager. “Doctor Elliott, come to the emergency room. You have a patient.” “Doctor Elliott, come to the lab.” “Doctor Elliott, go to room 109 STAT.” “Doctor Elliott, call the operator.” I found myself wondering who this Doctor Elliott person was that was so in demand with the same last name as mine. With a … Continue reading
The mouth of the canyon is wide with a wet, sandy bottom. Tracks from horse hooves mingle with the deep imprints of truck tires and a faint set of ruts from wagon wheels, evidence of the comings and goings of life in the canyon. I can’t resist taking off my shoes and adding my own set of tracks to the others. The cool, wet sand and water squeeze through my toes. It’s Sunday, December 5th, 1971, a good day to explore the canyon. Since arriving in the Navajo Nation a couple months ago to teach at the boarding school, I’ve … Continue reading
At 12,000 feet in the Andes, I lived with descendants of the Incas, Indians who had never seen a white woman in their village, viewed me with suspicion and then overnight saw me as a magic healer. They lined up outside my door to be healed. In 1974 I had never heard of the word “placebo” and didn’t even know about the concept behind the word. Below is an excerpt from my memoir, the story of how I came face to face with the placebo effect high in the Andes Mountains. —————————————————————————————- The hacienda reeked of neglect, abandoned for nearly … Continue reading
Thursday, March 13, 2015 Today is the last day of our magical Cuban adventure. We begin the day at the Fine Arts Museum. Sorry, no pictures to show you. Photography is not allowed, presumably because the flashes might affect the paintings. The charming curator, Omar Diaz, gave us a detailed tour of the galleries, which was a visual lesson in the history of art in Cuba and all the phases it’s been through, including a phase with heavy European influence. At the end of the tour, Omar said he would be in Albuquerque to give a talk in the fall … Continue reading
Thursday, March 12, 2015 This morning we’re heading off to beaches of Santa Maria, a pristine stretch of ocean that managed to escape Batista’s plan for tourist development—saved by the revolution just in the nick of time. But will they remain “saved” after the corporate titans get their hands on these beaches now that trade restrictions have been lifted between the US and Cuba? We took the bus back to the hotel for a quick shower and change of clothes to prepare ourselves for our next treat. The evening was spent at the Palacio de la Rumba with a performance … Continue reading
Wednesday, March 11, 2015 Cuba’s University of Fine Arts is spread out over a 163 acre campus (66 hectares) that was a country club with golf courses for Havana’s most privileged residents before the revolution. Even President Batista was not allowed to enter the country club because he was mulatto. Can you imagine President Obama being turned away from a country club because he’s black?? After the revolution, the country club was converted to the University of Fine Arts where students showing promise in the arts can receive a free advanced education in music, dance, theater, filmmaking, ceramic, sculpture or … Continue reading