Cicada Wisdom

 

We made it east for a late summer vacation.

Over the last months, we had heard the buzz about the cicadas (one bad pun per blog entry allowed). Every 13 to 17 years, these harmless insects come out from the ground to mate. Supposedly, the noise from these creatures reached an ear piercing 120 dB, louder than a jet aircraft or a jackhammer. People were posting pics, videos, and even recipes of cicada delicacies.

My mom was so excited, she had saved us a collection of these beautifully mysterious insects. On our phone calls leading up to our trip she would remind us that she had (dead) cicadas to show us.

“Great, mom. Can’t wait.” Luckily, she couldn’t see my facial expression. Meanwhile, my kids were jumping up and down for the opportunity to see grandma’s dead bugs.

Well, we didn’t see live cicadas. They were well on their way to burrowing in the ground until 2038 when they will emerge again.

But there was a curious thing we did see. Trees that looked perfectly healthy with brown ends of their branches. Being a New Mexican and a physician, I immediately diagnosed the problem as either a lack of water or some fungal/parasitic disease afflicting the tree population.

It was neither.

The browning of the trees was in fact a phenomenon called “flagging”. It turns out that the cicada females lay eggs in the smaller end branches of trees. This leads to a natural pruning of the tree and as the branch breaks off and falls to the ground, the cicada eggs get a free ride to the dirt to live for the next 17 years.

                                                        An example of flagging

I thought about flagging and what it can teach me and all of us.

Heading into a 3^rd wave of covid, we probably have some dead branches on the surface. We might be ashamed by how this looks to the world. We might even pathologize un-necessarily, thinking of these as a sign of disease, drought, etc.

Beyond looking into the mirror at ourselves, we probably notice some dead branches in the people and community around us. Again, eyesores that might make us wonder if all is well…or if all will ever be well again.

Nature, and particularly the billions of cicadas that came out to play in 2021, are reminding us that flagging is necessary, a normal part of life’s hum. It brings about new life, both for the tree and the insect world. Flagging helps shed stuff that needs to be let go of, dropped to the ground. And that seemingly dead branch that has fallen is actually bringing new life through the cicada it carries to its burrowing spot in the soil.

And this process of flagging is not bothered by the mega-quick Instagram/Twitter speed of our current world. In social media time, the dead branch would fall off and sprout new life in seconds. Our personal and societal flagging that will bring new life and new ways may be on a much longer time course, like our cicada relatives. Well, hopefully not a full 17 years…

The Power of Perception

Today, in heat and humidity in Tokyo, the men's 10,000 meter race will take place.

Let's time travel for a moment.

The year was 1964, the last time the summer Olympics were held in Tokyo prior to this year. 

An unknown American was in that race. Billy Mills, hailing from the Lakota Nation, entered the race with a personal best that was a minute slower than the world record holder Ron Clark who was the favorite to win. Mills had suffered discrimination and hardship throughout his life, including losing his mother when he was 8 years old. He reflected on advice from his father during the mourning over losing his mother:

"My dad told me I had broken wings. He said, 'I am going to share something with you and if you follow it, someday you may have the wings of an eagle. Look beyond the hurt, the hate, the jealousy, the self-pity. All of those emotions destroy you'. 

He said, 'Look deeper, way down deeper where the dreams lie. You've gotta find a dream, son'. It is the pursuit of a dream that will heal broken souls."

Cut to the race. 

Last lap. 

Mills has stuck with two other runners who are now battling it out as a trio. He survives being tripped and almost falling to the ground with about 350 meters to go. Of note, the American announcers on the call ignore Mills and focus on the other two runners (from Tunisia and Australia), as if they don't see him right there in the mix.

And then, out of seemingly nowhere and with seemingly no time left to catch up, Mills puts on a sprint that made the other two look as if they were frozen in time. 

With a few seconds to go, Billy Mills passes into first. He wins, the first American to win the Olympic 10,000 meters, and to this day the only one to win at that distance. Close to a minute better than his previous best.

Mills recounts something beautiful in these last 15 seconds of the race:

"As I go by the runner, out of the corner of my eye, in the center of his jersey, I saw an eagle. It was so powerful...back to my dad. 'Son, if you do these things, someday you can have the wings of an eagle.' I have got to do it now! Wings of an eagle! I won! I won!"

I go to find the runner with the eagle on his singlet to tell him that the eagle helped me win. I found him. There was no eagle [on his singlet]. It was just the perception.

I feel so strongly that perceptions can create us. Our perceptions can destroy us. We can choreograph our journey."

The power of perception. What we may discount as visions, as delusions, as hallucinations may be life bringing us to something bigger, better than we ever imagined. The eagle Billy Mills saw was as real as it needed to be. It allowed him to push to a level he might not have found and connected him to something greater. It displaced all doubt and uncertainty and focused him on the finish line ahead.

When we see that eagle on the metaphoric shirt in front of  us, may we simply have the courage to dig deep and say as Mills did, "I have got to do it now!"

Video of Mills talking about the Tokyo race (above) and a story from WBUR in Boston 

that was the inspiration for this piece here.

Room 11

We had a great conversation throughout the telehealth visit.

Maybe one of the best of my week.

John seemed to really appreciate our time together.

We got ready to close the visit, something I still find a bit awkward over the phone. No body language to rely on or to which I can react.

You would think Zoom would be better, but I still find the closing of a Zoom meeting or visit even more strange. You say bye, but you don’t want to click “end meeting” too quick, as this could be taken as your desire to get outta there FAST. Like in the pre-COVID world if you sprinted for the door.

But even worse is when neither party makes that “end meeting” click. You find yourselves staring at one another in a kind of middle school dance weirdness. Staring at each other, no longer in a meeting but also still there together. Staring. Awkward. Weird.

Back to John.

I wished him a wonderful day. About to hang up the phone.

“Doc, do I just leave the room myself?”

Huh?

“Do I just let myself out?”

Huh?

“I am in room 11 in your clinic.”

Huh?

In a COVID-ain’t-quite-done-yet moment, I had had a 20 minute telephone conversation with someone who was sitting on the other side of the wall, in my clinic. With all of my patients prior to John being telehealth visits that morning, I had missed the nursing triage paperwork that clearly said “Room 11” when it came to seeing John.

We laughed. John at me. Me at me.

I got up and went to room 11. We laughed some more. A hug and then I walked him out of the clinic.

We all find ourselves in similarly strange, awkward, and hilarious moments as we emerge from the depths of the pandemic. Meetings where we don’t know if masks are required. Events where we have to clarify if it is in-person or virtual. I imagine your weekly planner is as messy as mine – “9:30am meeting, in-person. Wear a mask for this one”.

Smile, don’t frown, when this week’s COVID-ain’t-quite-done-yet moments smack you in the face. This is our reality for the next 6-12 months. A good sign that things are returning to normal, even if awkward or embarrassing.

Shoot, it can’t be any worse than me hearing John say, “I am in room 11 in your clinic.”

Weini's Race

The day we met Weini, we knew she was a special person.

The setting was a UNM indoor track meet.

Weini Kelati, a runner for the Lobos had just set a meet record in the mile run.

She stepped off the track, caught her breath and then proceeded to sit with our Running Medicine youth for the next 15 minutes. Topics included Jo Jo Siwa, favorite foods and the reasons why we run.

Weini continued to excel, winning national championships in track and cross country. But she never stopped coming to share her energy and time with our group.

The day the pandemic hit in March 2020, she was prepared to win a few more NCAA titles as UNM was to host the indoor national championships. Teams had already arrived in Albuquerque for the meet, but the meet never happened. Facing uncertainty this fall of whether racing would happen during her senior year, she signed with Under Armour, joining the select few who get to run professionally.

Our Native Health Initiative had a chance to pay her back somewhat this spring, hosting her for her practicum in health education as she worked toward a college degree. In exchange, we had a professional runner hanging out with us, running with our youth in the Running Medicine program. Not a bad trade.

Two weeks ago, Weini has a week like no other. The U.S. Olympic Trials were well underway in Eugene, Oregon and yet she still did not know if she would be running. Not an issue of whether she was fast enough. Not a controversy like the ones we see play out in sports. The issue was the Weini was not a U.S. Citizen and would have to gain citizenship in order to toe the line.

Her 10k race was on Saturday, June 26^th. As of Wednesday morning, she was still a citizen of Eritrea where she emigrated from at age 17. In a flurry of activity, she was allowed to sit for a citizenship test and take an oath Wednesday afternoon. But it was Friday evening before all of the other technicalities were completed and she was approved to run in the meet.

We were fortunate enough to be part of her welcoming party in Eugene, complete with signs we made for her. Yes, we wanted to see her win but we knew she had already won with U.S. Citizenship that had been such a long process for her.

We were in the front row cheering her on in a brutal 25-lap race run in brutal heat. She dropped out after staying with the first pack for the first miles.

So, she won’t be representing our country in Tokyo this summer, but Weini has a blindingly bright future ahead of her. Excited to continue to cheer her on as she cheers on others.

Pic with Weini (far right) and another former Lobo Edna Kurgat 

(also racing the 10k at U.S. Olympic Trials), Eugene, Oregon

Video of our family presenting Weini with the homemade posters in Eugene the day before the 10k race.

https://www.facebook.com/runningmedicineabq/videos/170358651734724/

Washington Post article about her journey the week of the Olympic Trials

Weini Kelati becomes a U.S. citizen just in time for a Tokyo Olympics bid - The Washington Post

The Sweetness of the Present (and Mulberries)

They bring me so much joy.

Sweetness of life embodied in a carefully designed package.

Providing caloric bliss on long runs in the Bosque.

Machinations each spring on how to harvest them better than the year before.

 

Mulberries!

Each spring, I am excited for the simple pleasure of these mini-blackberry creations. There is something deep in our genetic code about picking something right from the source and popping it into your mouth. Even more so when it grows wild and doesn’t need careful cultivation from us humans.

My cerebral cortex, in an area just adjacent to one filled with medical algorithms, has a clear map of all of the mulberry sources, with sticky notes about the nuances of each tree/bush bearing this fruit.

Tree on Campbell Rd, midway between Rio Grande Blvd and Bosque, south side of road – solid source of mulberries, early bloom, candidate for step-ladder approach with tarp underneath, as lowest branches are too high to reach from the ground. Great spot to visit with my kids for harvesting while on bike rides.

Bush at UNM Health Sciences Center, lower level plaza, southwest end of library – early harvest, great for access. Recently saw raccoon atop the bush which did make me wonder if I should keep gorging on the fruit. Still a solid source to explore each spring.

Recently, as I finished eating with my kids from a mulberry tree close to campus that may have the best fruit of them all, hands and mouth purple-stained, shoes dyed with splashes of berry juice, I thought greedily about taking some home.

Now, the one thing about the mulberry part of my brain is that memory and cognition are not quite operating the way they do in the adjacent “medical algorithms” section. So, I ignored what I knew from previous years and started stuffing the extra fruit in a makeshift mulberry bin.

We got home, and excited for a second serving, I reached into the bag to find a mushy mess. Even by taste, there just wasn’t that “bang” I remembered from plucking them from the tree hours earlier. Gone was the thrill of picking the berries with my kids in a game of who can get messiest. A big letdown, just like every year in the past.

Mulberries remind us of the beauty of the present.

They teach us to embrace life without needing to possess it.

Embrace the sweetness of each moment today.

When you come upon the mulberry moments of your travels, take a few deep breaths to appreciate it all. Listen to life at that moment. Feel your heart beating in joy. Leave your phone in your pocket – as with mulberries, hoarding more than one can eat at the source usually disappoints.

 

Something Else

 It might have seemed to the newsroom staff an innocuous choice of words.

CNN, in the heat of the 2020 Presidential election season, put up a poll listing racial groups.

In the Native American community, the idea of being “something else” hit a chord. A group of people who have struggled for recognition ever since Europeans’ arrival, “something else” was far more than a grammatical error, a semantic mis-step. It was another blow to a people treated for 500+ years as less-than, not good enough. (Link to local article on the response to the incident)

Indigenous creative minds got to work. There was a call for the Washington Football Team to be named the “Washington Something Elses”. You heard things like, “It’s a good day to be something else.”

I am honored to share an artistic response to this moment. Art as protest. Art as resilience. Art speaking what words cannot.

Mallery Quetawki is a friend, a colleague and an incredible artist from Zuni Pueblo. She shared this piece and her reflections on what was behind the art. Take in the art and let it speak to you for two minutes. Breathe it in. Soak it in. Hear its message. Then, take a look at Mallery’s own words.

Mallery, my sister, like all of your art, this piece is indeed…something else!!! Wow!!!

 

I sit here and think what my feelings were when I created the "Something Else" painting.  I was more amused that folks can still get away with marginalizing our communities even when our presences is ever so loud nowadays.  I felt that there needs to be a reminder of who lived, loved and died on the soils of America before it was America.  Just the idea that our identities and our tight knit societies are so romanticized like it only happens in the movies or when they talk about our people they say things like "were" or "was" in a past tense like we aren't living that way at all anymore, is what sparked the idea of utilizing technology, ancient art practices and a small amount of protest.  We may be assimilated to western society in material manners, education and social systems but we are still very much tied/entwined to the ancient way, which is something embedded in all our circuits and throughout our cells and helixes.  More of a warning shot that we are rising up and being louder and being just as educated as our colonizers that these "something elses" have power to add to the circuits of the American Machine. We are no longer standing idle but taking on endeavors that take us to places such as the Department of the Interior and taking seats and saving the open ones around us one Pendleton (blanket) at a time.

Pandemic Positives

I had a crazy thought. 

Each time I walked into a room to see a patient, I would ask them a question that would be more in line with this blog than with the usual “Where does it hurt?” and “What’s wrong with you?” taught in medical school.

Remember that the room” I was walking into was often a virtual room (seeing a patient via Zoom) or an audio room for a telephone visit. Occasionally a live human-to-human masked encounter.

Now, all crazy thoughts are best implemented with a co-conspirator. In this case, I enlisted a wonderful medical student Rachel Rose. For her, it was kind of a “wrong place at the wrong time” type of moment. For me, it was all I needed to turn the crazy thought into action.

The question: “What is a positive that has come for you and/or your family from the pandemic?”

Before any talk about labs, blood sugars or disease, Rachel and I asked our patients this simple question.

Here is what they told us, un-edited. A reminder for all of us, especially as the depths of the pandemic fade away, not to lose the precious lessons this last year has offered us.

The responses: 

I floss my teeth now. I actually have the time to floss.

Keeping in mind that 'this too shall pass'. This has been a test and a trial but I am a person of faith so I believe whatever is unhappy or uncomfortable, it is all going to be okay. We have been through something really big together. This can be an unifying event if we take it that way and look at that way.

I have more time to spent my nephews and great nephew. One of my nephews lives with me and he keeps me company. I have a lot of company.

Spending more time with my wife and helping her around the house. It was just me and her around the house. We have been married for years but I got to know her better and learn more about her. I learned more about what she needs and what she wants and she learned about me too. You could be married for 30 years but don't know much about one another until spending 24/7 together.

I get to spend much more time with my daughter than I did prior to the pandemic. 

I have been able to invest time into something I love, building a garage gym. I have also had the time to show my grandparents I truly love and care about them. Delivering groceries is a lot different than simply saying hello over the phone.

I have realized that I don't have to be rushing around. We can relax as a family and things will still get done. This has been a really good change for me and for our family.

The pandemic has given me the opportunity to put more time into my home and garden. 

I have not let the pandemic slow me down. I still give to others. I pick up food boxes from the food bank and give them out to my neighbors. I know some neighbors now that I didn’t know before the pandemic.