Today was such an average day. Everything settled to its proper place without my lifting a finger. I wasn’t in pain; I had no reason to complain. There was plenty to eat. I had no problem answering my crossword puzzles. Julie Anne had happy text messages early in the morning. Emil was his usual easy-to-get-along husband. Even my two plants were sprouting new leaves. I managed to catch a glimpse of sensational news items but I automatically relegated them to the “For Compassion” bin of my brains.

By noontime I had a good massage. My body apparently was in tip top condition.  So what was missing in my life to make me feel lousy? Goodness! For exactly two weeks I had been following doctor’s orders, that of my former student. No soft drinks. I know it’s not good for me. Sugar! Bad for my bones especially. But the taste is such a pleasure. It’s tasty but so bad for my teeth as well. Withdrawal symptoms once again.     I recall how exquisitely painful it was in the 90s when I had to be weaned out from antidepressants. There were times I cried in frustration. I ached to bury my fingers in play dough and deaden the gnawing pains not only in my stomach but all over my body.

I hadn’t read Boorstein as yet. I didn’t know about the havoc a confused mind could create. I didn’t know how fear could worsen whatever pain I had. I should have understood how fear colors pain, even exaggerate it. I didn’t know that fear pictures pain as a force without boundaries, unending. As long as the mind remains agitated fear will continue to muddle the issues.

Now I understand why one of my many doctors advised me to get a coloring book and color furiously or passionately, never mind if the colors went beyond the lines. What he didn’t tell me was the healing connection between art and the silencing of the mind. Another doctor instructed Emil to purchase a jigsaw puzzle set for me to keep me busy. There were too many pieces to be rearranged.  It was a horrible exercise in frustration. It was too complicated for a tired mind.

Whatever demons, I was fighting with that led me to a severe depression in the 90s was gradually subdued during a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and Europe. As I wobbled around the Mount of Olives I recall How dry I felt; I had no desire to pray. One would think that the holy setting, including the prayerful companions I had would get me into the mood.

The change of scenery at least soothed my Monkey Mind. It was as though whatever triggered my fears, anger and anxieties were left behind in Manila. The cold in Jerusalem put out the angry fires in my soul.  The milk was delicious; so were the figs ; the fruits were like those I tasted in the Philippines but definitely sweeter. In Europe the leaves in various colors, aside from the usual green spoke to me. In Barcelona the cascading Wisteria outside a restaurant jolted my stupor and for a day or two lifted my depression. A fragile fawn crossing the road made me feel one with it. It was special. Several had passed but they eluded me. Either I was asleep or they darted too fast for me to notice.

Travelling through the countryside of France and Spain awakened the spiritual in me. The very long stretches of wide spaces and the gigantic trees along the highways were breathing moments for me. My lungs, I felt were receiving enough oxygen in the countryside. The Spanish steps bordered by a slew of pink flowers revived my spirit. What were not from the routine and familiar realities in the Philippines must have shocked my brains. New pathways must have been built in the process giving my tired mind fresh data to work on.   Months after I returned to Manila I found life meaningful once more. I touched the hand of the Almighty through the foreign flora and fauna. Seeing new animals, new colors, new plants and especially trees of varied sizes, shapes and heights brought me in awe. I felt like a child marveling over pictures in a glossy encyclopedia. It was relaxing to say the least.

I learned to prepare the grounds for blessings. I had to empty myself and let the Almighty fill me up with much more than I expected. I must have experienced a rewiring of my brains. On

hind sight it was a very wise decision not to allow the doctors to do exploratory surgery on my brains.