This is a problem that most of us have had at one time or another—whether trying to meditate or just getting through a meeting at work.   Sometimes, trying to meditate can even stress you out and make you feel worse. Maybe this is why most people try it once, and never go back to it again.

I’ve experienced this a lot, myself.  However, I’ve always been intrigued by what’s possible with meditation.  I’ve even spent weeks at a time at ashrams (full-time live-in yoga retreats) where people dedicate themselves 24/7 to living a calm and peaceful life. These people are what I call ‘meditation professionals.’ I figured, if they can’t teach me, nobody can!

Here’s what I’ve learned:  Meditation is not about learning to be a good meditator.  (This was news to me…)  Like most of us, I need to be good at everything I do.   That, I found out, was setting myself up for failure.  I just got frustrated with trying to clamp down my unruly mind… and it never worked.

So you might ask, “Okay Ken, then what is meditation about?”  Okay, I’ll tell you: Meditation is about learning to become better friends with yourself.  Rather than doing battle with your thoughts, you learn to treat the content of your mind more gently, as though you were calming an upset child.

There is no ‘right way’ to do this, other than to stay with what’s happening as it happens, in any given moment. I was taught that whatever feelings arise when you’re sitting or walking (and there is such a thing as walking meditation), are exactly perfect for you—at that time. Meditation is not about getting someplace; but rather, it’s about observing whatever’s going on with you right now… and allowing it to just be.

Observing without judgment and accepting without resistance—these are not things we find in our everyday thoughts. They are what meditation teaches us, however.

Here’s something you can try:

Just close your eyes and take three, slow, deep breaths—not like you’re going to be holding your breath underwater—just deepen the natural breathing that you’re doing right now.

For the next three breaths, as you inhale, think to yourself: “I’m grateful.” As you exhale, say, “for this day.”

Then, for the next three breaths, as you inhale, think to yourself: “I’m grateful.” As you exhale, say, “for this hour.”

For the next three breaths, as you inhale, think to yourself: “I’m grateful.” As you exhale, say, “for this moment.”

For the next three breaths, as you inhale, think to yourself: “I’m grateful.” As you exhale, say, “for this breath.”

For the last three breaths…  think of nothing.  Relax and simply enjoy the experience of being alive.

One Saturday a couple of summers ago, I was feeling bad. Not TMS, though. I’d recently ended a three-year relationship with my girlfriend. I hadn’t been sleeping well so I was feeling tired and sad. Now, I’m not suggesting that sadness is a bad thing. It’s not. I was facing what it meant to have ended what I thought would be a life-long romantic partnership. Given that, I suppose that a certain amount of mourning is healthy.

And, I was just feeling sad that day.

Even intense emotional pain can make you feel like doing absolutely nothing. And, I preferred that it be raining. Not only would the weather better suit my mood, it’s a great excuse to stay indoors. When it’s beautiful outside, well, that always made me feel worse.

As the splinters of sunlight streaming through the window blinds began to soften, letting me know that the day was on the wane, I forced myself up and out the door. I’d feel better if I took a walk, so headed outside with no particular destination in mind.

To my surprise, half a block from my apartment was a street fair!

If you live in New York City, you know street fairs are a summertime staple. They materialize on various blocks and avenues, from the beginning of May until October. But they’re certainly not the fairs that I remembered when I was young.

Having grown up in the suburbs of Connecticut, I’m blessed with rich, fond and resonant memories of colorful clowns painting children’s faces, boardwalk-style games, live brass bands, the musty smell of pony rides; all framed by wide-open grassy fields and big, beautiful blue skies. Memories of country fairs of decades ago were nothing like what I saw that Saturday: Booth after booth of people with one thing in mind… selling stuff to making a buck.

And, they sold such an odd mishmash of things: A booth of Tibetan religious articles, tables strewn with boxes of socks and underwear, a truck selling Italian sausage and chocolate-covered marshmallows on a stick. Everywhere you looked, something else that ‘doesn’t belong with this picture’: Rap CD’s, phone cards, crepes, sunglasses, scarves, corn on the cob, you get the idea. It’s New York’s best impression of a Middle-Eastern open-air market.

The street fairs in New York City run along the edge of the sidewalks, leaving the center of the avenue open for people to walk. I took myself to the double yellow line in the center of the street and followed it as I slowly walked up 3rd Avenue. This way, I avoided the attention of hawkers, who worked tirelessly to pull people in for a ten minute Korean back-rub, or to sell them something they didn’t need. There’s nothing here that I want, I thought, and I don’t eat this stuff anyway. Not feeling well certainly didn’t help. I knew that finding something fun in this street fair probably wasn’t going to work, but I tried anyway.

After five or six blocks, I was ready to head home. Just before turning back, I saw something that seemed so unusual, so out of place, so fantastic, that at first, I was sure that I was hallucinating. Up ahead, directly in front of me, standing in a patch of gleaming sunlight… was a clown.

Not just a clown – the best clown I’d ever seen:

Over-sized bright green shoes, rainbow tights, a ruffled polka-dot skirt, orange Raggedy Ann hair, tall purple hat, and a perfectly painted face complete with a big red smile and a bright red nose. She was surrounded by children, waiting for one of her perfectly created balloon animals. Hanging from her belt was a Harpo Marx car horn and dozens of balloons in every color, ready to be blown up.

She worked with the skill of a samurai, inflating and tying the balloons with sharp, precise moves. Then, when she was finished, she held up her creation for all to see, and presented it to the happy child with a flourish and a graceful bow. She charged nothing for the balloon animals, but a dollar tip from the grateful parent was rewarded by a c7ouple of honks on her silly old brass horn: Oooh-gaa, Oooh-gaa!

I was pulled deeply into the moment. I stood there watching her and the children, not a thought in my head. I was mesmerized.

As the crowd of children and parents started to grow, the whole experience became all the more special, all the more beautiful. We weren’t at a street fair in New York City anymore. We’d been transported to another place, a place that was safe and friendly, innocent and joyful. It was a perfect moment. And yes, I wanted a balloon animal, too!

I didn’t get my chance.

A harsh voice popped the bubble of frivolous carefree fancy; and I was back on the street in New York. A very large, very unhappy man shouted at the clown, “You can’t be here! I’m getting complaints from the vendors; you’re taking their business away!” The children and parents disappeared so fast, it was like they’d vanished into thin air.

As for me, I was furious!

From deep within me came emotion that was deep and intense. Part of me that always had been told what to do and that had to take it from parents and teachers – the part of me that always had to walk away silently with my head down, full of disappointment, suddenly filled my entire body. I couldn’t just walk away!

As the clown collected herself preparing to leave, I turned to the guy and said: “Let me tell you something, she’s the best thing you’ve got here. She’s not taking business away from the vendors, she’s bringing you business!”

As I look back, I realize that I probably wasn’t very nice when I said that. I don’t remember what he said next. I do remember what I said back to him, though: “You’re an idiot!!” (Yikes! What was I thinking?)

The man stormed off. I turned and spoke: “Sorry about that!” She replied: “No, no, thanks for standing up for me!” When we looked back to see the man talking to a policeman, we quickly agreed it was a really good time to leave! We made a hasty exit across the street, behind some of the booths, running; trying not to look like we were running. “Here, take my card. I’ll give you a great price on a party.” With that, we shook hands and parted ways.

As I slipped into the crowd and headed back home, I was struck by how reckless I’d been. Frankly, I felt ashamed of myself. I took a moment to shake off what I was feeling by throwing out my hands in front of me, and sharply exhaling a few times. I could’ve really gotten myself into trouble back there! What was I thinking?

Just three more steps, and it hit me: intense, jabbing pain, under both shoulder blades, like a double punch from behind. I stopped. I leaned against a building, grabbed a few breaths, and started walking again. The pain persisted. The pain frightened me. I knew it was TMS. What else could have caused such intense pain from out of nowhere? I’d just been walking. I’d done nothing to my back, strenuous or otherwise. Why would I get TMS right now? I asked myself.

Well, let’s see! Did anything intensely emotional just happen?

I slowed down. As I walked, I checked in. I listened, I felt. Suddenly, I was a little boy again. I felt the sensation; the old familiar sadness that I’ve learned to understand, to experience and accept. At that moment, I didn’t think too much about it. I knew that trying to understand it always got in the way of what I need to do:

Just let go and feel the feelings! Although I was walking, I was able to let myself fully feel what there was to feel. There it was: just sadness.

Welling up in my belly… then my chest… into my throat; a wave of intense sadness flowed through me. Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

I wish I’d brought my sunglasses. I really don’t want people to see me crying as a walk down there street, They’ll think… What a minute! Who cares what they think! I’m a human being. It’s OK to cry. So I cried. I felt.

Only two blocks before you’re home, Ken. You’re doing fine.

The sadness I experienced was so overwhelmingly deep, so pervasive, so profound; that at first, I didn’t notice that the TMS pain in my back had completely disappeared.

The beauty of TMS is that it points the way– it sends a message. As a reminder, it’s not always a gentle one, but it sure gets your attention! Yes, it hurts. But it’s a much better alternative than serious disease. And most importantly, it lets you know that you’ve got emotional work to do; and when you learn to make it go away, you know that you’ve done the work you need to do– for that day.

When you experience the relationship between unpleasant emotions and your symptoms, then you can focus all of your attention on the psychological causes of your pain and not be distracted by any notion that the cause may be physical. This is what I call making the Mindbody connection.

In this experience, it was easy for me to not attribute the TMS to anything structural because my intense back pain occurred during a very benign activity: walking! The pain came on so suddenly and was so intense and then, went away just as quickly.

The more your TMS symptoms come and go, the more positive experience you’ll have with it, the more you will become its master – rather than the other way around.

____________________________

This blog is not affiliated with any medical doctor or medical practice in any way. The contents are for your educational purposes only and not meant to diagnose or treat any disorder or disease. In the case of any symptom, please see an appropriate medical professional.

I always waited until I was out of the city before I put the top down.

It’s very easy with a Miata. No motors involved. Just open the two latches on either side of the top of the windshield and throw the whole thing back. Done. The first gas station on the Cross County Parkway heading north about a half hour out of Manhattan is my usual spot to do this. It’s where the trees start, the air gets cleaner and the scenery opens up.

That’s most of what you want when it comes to driving a convertible. Although not a requirement, an interesting destination is nice, too.

On this particular sunny autumn Friday morning, my destination was Club Getaway; a weekend sports resort for adults in Kent, Ct. Think Club Med meets summer camp. I had been to both and after several weekends as a guest at Club Getaway, I’d become a member of their weekend staff. This meant that I would teach activities in exchange for free room and board.

This was their Halloween weekend. With the fall foliage in a blaze of orange, yellow and red, I drove my black two-seater sports car down windy roads cutting through the crisp New England air.

My first stop: the farm to pick out the pumpkins. Pumpkin Carving with Ken is how the daily schedule would read and I could always count on a good turn out. The guests were, after all, like me. That is, most likely quick to remember fond Halloween childhood memories. Pumpkin carving, like everything else at Club Getaway, is a highly social activity and I was looking forward to meeting new people and sharing a common passion.

I had, in fact, raised pumpkin carving to an amateur art form. Triangled eyes and toothy grins were things of the past. At my class, intricate patterns of ghoulish faces, haunted houses, scary animals and the like were cut out of the big orange fruits with saw tools hand-made out of tiny jig saw blades glued into wooden dowels. Amid the hiking, canoeing, mountain biking, volleyball and other activities that mix well with autumn air; we’d work away, huddled around several picnic tables.

As I pulled into the farm, I noticed clouds closing in on what had been a clear blue sky.

“Howdy Farmer John!”

“How-dee.”

He said it better than me. After all, he was the real thing and I was just some dorky city slicker mustering up what little “country cool” I could find. A scraggly man in his mid-seventies, torn overalls covering red-checkered flannel, he’d probably spent most of his days for the past sixty years working in the sun and his skin looked it. His face scared me a little, until he gave a quick and perfunctory smile as if being friendy was expensive and he just wasn’t spending much today.

“Think is going to rain this weekend, John?”

“Yep.”

Small talk out of the way, I handpicked twenty-five of the best “carvers” I could find and set them aside.

Rain meant that we’d carve under a huge outdoor tent and so this was where I had the pumpkins delivered. Rain did not wait until the next morning but rather began that evening just as the guests arrived for dinner.

The next morning, we awoke to a raging downpour that lasted most of the day limiting the choices of activities. I taught my largest class ever. We carved fifty-four pumpkins in one day!

Mercifully, the late afternoon hours brought clear skies and sunshine dried the lingering dampness, lifting everyone’s spirits for the evening festivities. These included a happy hour where the lighted pumpkins would be displayed, dinner and finally a Halloween ball replete with a haunted house and prizes for the best costumes.

This year, however, would be different for me. The events of a cousin’s wedding would take me away from this evening’s fun and the rest of the weekend at Club Getaway. I was due for dinner at my parent’s house one hour’s drive south in Stamford. Relatives from out of town were staying with us the night before a big wedding the next day, Sunday in Westport and my father had made it very clear:

“Don’t be rude. Be on time. Dinner is at 7 sharp.”

Years of experience had taught me well. When your father speaks in that tone, he means it. It had been a long time since I had lived under his roof and his rule and yet I agreed to his request. This was both out of respect for family protocol and to save myself facing an angry mob at the dinner table. I’m not sure how much of each and would rather not think too much about it.

Proper planning to be on time meant leaving before dark. And THAT meant I would not get to see the pumpkins lit up. These intricately carved pumpkins look especially dramatic arranged on tables, set against the clear black of the cool October night in the Connecticut woods, and that was my favorite part.

This weekend, however, I’d be missing it all. In years past, I was no less proud than an elementary school drama teacher watching his students attempting a bow in unison. No accolades for me this year, though. By the time my fellow staff member, Jay would be burning his fingers attempting to light the pumpkins, I’d be gone like a spirit in the night.

And so, resigned to the fate of the day, I pointed my car south and headed down Route 7 to Stamford. At least I’d enjoy an hour of top down driving with the late afternoon autumn sun riding along the top of the hills beside me.

Or so I’d thought.

Not more than a quarter mile down the road, sudden pain gripped my upper back like an unexpected cold slap in the face. Under both shoulder blades came the sensations of both aching and stinging with such force that I breathed in through my teeth and let out a long and desperate:

“Oowwwwwww!”

I steadied the wheel of my car, giving thought to stopping on the side of the road. I slowed a bit and kept driving as flurry of thoughts filled my head. At first, panic:

“Oh shit! What did I do to my back? Did I injury myself? Maybe it’s a sprain, or a strain, or a spasm. How could this have happened? I DID spend yesterday and today lifting pumpkins in the cold, wet weather. Maybe I over-exerted my back and now that I’m sitting down, my muscles are cramping up. And, I’m going to a family dinner tonight and a wedding tomorrow. If this keeps up, I’ll be miserable. I won’t have any fun…”

Then, I remembered.

“Stop.”

With a long deep breath, my panic dissolved into clarity and calm.

“Wait a minute. Look at what you are doing to yourself. There is nothing wrong with your back. You just forgot. This is just TMS, a harmless condition in spite of how painful it can be.”

Although the pain persisted for the moment, it was far easier to tolerate from this new perspective. Next, the question, which I’ve asked myself many times before:

“O.K. What am I NOT feeling?

What are the negative emotions that may be emerging into my awareness such that my brain feels the necessity to create this pain to distract my conscious mind from these unconscious negative feelings?”

Sometimes, when you’re feeling around for a light switch in the pitch black darkness, you get lucky. Or, maybe somewhere in your tissue is the knowing of where to reach, where to find, where to go. My answer came in a flash. I realized:

I wasn’t disappointed that I would not get to see the pumpkins lit up. I wasn’t annoyed that I would be missing dinner and the annual Halloween party. I wasn’t saddened that I would not be spending the evening and the rest of the weekend with my friends. I wasn’t peeved that instead, I had to go to a marginally entertaining Saturday night dinner and then a most likely, pretending-to-have-fun Sunday wedding with my family.

I WAS FURIOUS!

“The Halloween weekend at Club Getaway takes place once a year. My annual pilgrimage to the farm to buy the pumpkins, teaching the class, and the lighting of the pumpkins have become a special tradition. They’re almost sacred events for me. The sights, the sounds, and the smells — I love the whole thing.  And now, other obligations in my life are taking it away from me. Obligations imposed by other people.

How dare my cousins get married on my Halloween weekend! How dare my other cousins come stay at my parent’s house tonight requiring me to miss enjoying the fruits of my labor! How dare my father be so rigid and selfish in demanding that I leave early and miss the lighting of the pumpkins! That’s when everyone tells me what I great job did, how much fun they had carving and how spectacular the pumpkins look!  And, I’m missing all of it because yet again, I have to be the good son!

Sure there’s next year, but we’ll probably never carve fifty-four pumpkins in one day EVER again and I’m missing seeing them all lit up and that’s something I’ll never get to see…!”

I was fuming almost to a point of frenzy. Looking back, I surprised I was able to keep my car on the road as a wave of rage and sadness welled up into my chest and exploded out of my throat in uncontrollable sobs. At least I was able to keep both hands on the wheel as the wind blew away tears.

Like a sun shower in the tropics, my emotional storm drifted away as quickly as it started. I slowed my breath, taking note of the feeling of openness in my chest, the quiet stillness of my thoughts.

My back pain… completely gone.

The pose is called Sivasana.

It’s the final position of the Asana practice,  the physical movement part of Yoga.

It’s the most simple and the most important. Quite simply, you lay flat on your back with your eyes shut. Place your heels together and let your feet fall open. Hands are at your sides, palms up. Then, you just let everything go, including and especially your mind.

It is the final relaxation where all of the stretching, binding and balancing from all of the other poses integrates. It’s where the bringing together of the mind, body and spirit happens. Yoga translates to “sacred union” and doing this, I suppose, is what they are talking about. For me, as for most, it is a deeply relaxing experience and I consider it part of the reward for all of my efforts with the other poses.

When class is difficult, as it was this past Saturday morning, I am especially relieved when it is finally time to relax and as I laid back slowly, I felt the familiar great relief of letting go of all my muscles. The sensation of a gentle energy flowed about my body, and random thoughts and images gently bumped about in my mind with no particular consequence.

There were even fleeting moments of no thought. This is the ultimate goal. Consciousness without thinking sounds like a relief and with the glimpses that I have had, I can tell you that it is indeed.

All was well, until…

Suddenly, I noticed the beginning of sensations not normally associated with Sivasana. First, my hands felt heavy, then my feet, then my arms and legs. Soon, my entire body felt like I was buried in cold sand. A slow spin began in the center of my forehead as a flutter of nausea tickled deep within my gut. Questions darted about my mind:

“What the hell is going on? This is supposed to feel good? Is this an anxiety attack? What did I do to deserve this? No, no, no, no, please no! This is so unpleasant! I want this to go away RIGHT NOW!”

“O.K. try to stay calm. Breath. Remember, Yoga is about staying with the breath. Just observe this for what it is. Remember the diagnosis. Anxiety is a TMS equivalent. This means my brain is using these unpleasant sensations to distract my conscious mind from unconscious negative feelings that are coming to the surface. Don’t fight it. It’s not going to hurt you. What’s under the anxiety? Sadness and rage. Just let go.

What can I tell my brain that will help to release some of these unconscious feelings? It’s O.K. to feel rage. It’s O.K. to feel sadness. It’s O.K. to feel rage. It’s O.K. to feel sadness…

As I breathed deeply and repeated my new mantra, the center of my chest began to ache. My lips came together as the corners of my mouth turned down. I imagined my face painted as a sad clown. Tears flooded my eyes as sadness welled up into my chest and gently burst up into my throat and out of my mouth in rhythmic sobs.

“Stay with this. Don’t encourage or resist. You’re doing the work that needs to be done!”.

Yoga class is a safe space to experience and express whatever comes up. People who are serious about Yoga understand this and so I gave myself full permission to let go.

It didn’t take long.

Within a minute, the sobs slowed down and gently stopped. The sadness drifted away like clouds that seemed to melt as a cool, cloudy afternoon suddenly transforms into a bright and warm sunny day.

With a deep yawn that seems to stretch every muscle in my body, I went back into the deep relaxation; the pose called Sivasana.

Just a few moments ago, I was paging through an online brochure for my alma mater, Syracuse University. Bold colored pages offset with photos of courtyards dotted with groups of students sitting in circles reading and relaxing on the deep green grass; majestic buildings reflecting the warm afternoon sun; classrooms full of students neat and clean, looking full of hope and promise.  Just as they should. A college education is a valuable tool in our modern world.

I had a good experience in college and feel good about the four years that I spent at Syracuse. So I was surprised when I clicked to a page which revealed a large aerial photo of the main campus and suddenly felt sad. Taken from a helicopter, this image showed a view of a “world gone by” from a perspective that I had never seen before.

With eyes blurred with tears, I traced the steps I took from the dorm to classes; from class to the fraternity house which I eventually joined; the athletic fields which I would lap effortlessly in nothing but sneakers and shorts; the college bar where my jazz-rock band often played on Saturday nights.  I even located the spot where my college sweetheart told me that she loved me.

I guess I just haven’t thought about those days in a long time. I graduated 31 years ago and it’s seems that an entire lifetime has passed since then. Everything was ahead of me back then and now I’m a good half-way around the course.

So, even now as I write these words, I feel sad.

Why?  I don’t really know.

I could spend some time thinking about why. I’m sure I could figure it out. That might be useful to gain some further insight into myself and I might very well do that.  But right now, that’s not what is important.

Here’s what’s important: to stay with the feelings and just experience them. And,  here’s what MOST important:

It’s O.K. with me that I feel sad!

I am not afraid to feel deep feelings that may be unpleasant, difficult or even overwhelming. I know that they are just feelings and so I accept and embrace them fully.

I relax and breathe and let them flow and sit back and watch as they come and go.

This is why I don’t have TMS.

I’ve asked myself many times, What would have brought the Beatles back together? Perhaps some big benefit concert.

Last Saturday at Radio City Music Hall was a benefit, for something that was part of the journey which the Beatles took together: The David Lynch Foundation whose mission is to establish meditation as a part of daily practice in schools.

If you’re a die-hard fan then you remember: the Beatles first discovered meditation in India, at the ashram of Yogi Maharishi Mahesh. And, meditation had a profound influence on their music.

“Every child should have one class period a day to dive within himself” is how the mission statement of the David Lynch Foundation reads, “The opportunity to meditate, quiet the mind and truly listen is an invaluable one.”

When I was in the eighth grade, regular punishment for misbehaving was staying after school and sitting quietly with our hands folded at our desk. I made it a regular practice of misbehaving because I thoroughly enjoyed the “punishment”!

Even at the age of thirteen, I understood and appreciated the opportunity to quiet my mind, relax my body, and just… listen.

Meditation is a very powerful tool for dealing with being overwhelmed.  And, that’s the way it gets sometimes when you’re in chronic pain! Like all skills, it takes practice. Like any practice it is best done regularly. And, as it gets easier, the experience deepens and the results expand.

So what DO the Beatles have to say about mediation? Check out the words to one of my favorite songs:

Tomorrow Never Knows

Turn off your mind, relax and float down stream,
It is not dying, it is not dying.

Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void,
It is shining, it is shining.

Yet you may see the meaning of within,
It is being, it is being.

Love is all and love is everyone,
It is knowing, it is knowing.

And ignorance and hate mourn the dead,
It is believing, it is believing.

But listen to the colour of your dreams,
It is not leaving, it is not leaving.

So play the game “existence” to the end,
Of the beginning, of the beginning.

When I arrived, the only other person in the room was another drummer, Rob.

Rob is really good!

So good, if fact, that after the first time I saw him play, which was several months ago, I asked him to give me lessons. You see, I’ve played drums for many years in school. I recently got back to playing and I want to get REALLY good!

Anyway, Rob turned me down. “Too busy” he told me. I was fine with that, but now, here we were alone in the studio and I had a chance to talk with him. I asked him how he got so good and he answered with a question.

“Do you practice every day?” he asked.

“Yes, 15 minutes a day.”

“No enough!” he responded. “If you want to get really good, you MUST practice AT LEAST one hour per day — not every day — but most days.”

“So, practice makes perfect, right?

“NO!” he barked. ”PERFECT practice make perfect! You must make your practicing count.”

He went on to tell me how to do that and so I got my lesson after all.

When I got home, I thought about what Rob said and how much it relates learning what Dr. Sarno is teaching. We must put in the daily practice.

As Dr. Sarno puts it, “Daily practice is essential.”

A half hour in the morning and again at night is a start.  But, if your symptoms are substantial, well then, take more time and go deeper.

What makes a perfect practice when it come to learning what Dr. Sarno is teaching?

I’ll be writing more about this in upcoming posts, so stick around!

In the case of any pain, we must be throughly checked out by our doctor to rule out serious disease. And in the case of back pain this would include an X-ray or MRI.

Right?

Well, doing so may be necessary but not without a “psychological” price to pay.

In her blog for The New York Times,  Tara Parker-Pope recently reported about new research that show that scanning to find the source of back pain may do more harm than good.

Be sure to check out studies that she quotes!

“Researchers from Oregon Health and Science University in Portland reviewed six clinical trials comprised of nearly 2,000 patients with lower back pain. They found that back pain patients who underwent scans didn’t get better any faster or have less pain, depression or anxiety than patients who weren’t scanned. More important, the data suggested that patients who get scanned for back pain may end up with more pain than those who are left alone, according to the report published this week in the medical journal Lancet.

About two thirds of adults suffer from low back pain at some time in their lives, and low back pain is the second most common symptom that sends people to the doctor (upper respiratory problems are first). Studies suggest that more than half the patients who see a doctor for back pain undergo X-rays or another imaging study as a result.

The problem, say researchers, is that back scans can turn up physical changes in the back that aren’t really causing any problem. One well known study from The New England Journal of Medicine put 98 people with no back pain into a magnetic resonance imaging scan. Even though all of them had healthy backs, two out of three of them came back with M.R.I. reports that showed disk problems.

“You can find lots of stuff on X-rays and M.R.I.’s like degenerative disks and arthritis, but these things are very weakly correlated with low back pain,” said study author Dr. Roger Chou, associate professor of medicine at Oregon Health. “We think we’re helping patients by doing a test, but we’re adding cost, exposing people to radiation and people may be getting unnecessary surgery. They start to think of themselves as having a horrible back problem and they stop doing exercise and things that are good for them, when in reality, a lot of people have degenerative disks and arthritis and have no pain at all.

Dr. Chou said patients should ask their doctors why a scan or X-ray is needed rather than using pain relief and exercise to cope while a back heals on its own. Most back pain gets better within 30 days if a patient takes normal precautions after a pain episode. If back pain persists for longer than a month, or if symptoms suggest a more serious problem like an infection or tumor, then an X-ray or scan may be needed, Dr. Chou said.

‘I think patients should question whether they really need it,’ Dr. Chou said. ‘From a societal perspective, it’s important because we’re wasting a lot of money that could be used for better purposes. But from an individual patient’s perspective, doing X-rays and M.R.I.’s can lead you down a path that you don’t want to go down.’”

Interesting article! Are you becoming more hopeful about the future of medicine?

I am.

As a pain sufferers who are learning what Dr. Sarno is teaching, it is gratifying and encouraging to observe Western medicine transform. Both researchers and practitioners and slowly realizing the power of the unconscious mind and effect that emotions have on symptoms, disorder and disease.

Reading Dr. Sarno’s book was enough and indeed, the pain had gone away. But now it was coming back and, as he noticed, reocurrances were usually during high-stress times in his life.

“The pain is making him feel old!”, he told me.  Living with chronic pain does take a lot of energy!

Whenever he had a problem, he would immerse himself in Dr. Sarno’s book and that generally helped. This would fortify his understanding enough for him to accept the diagnosis of TMS. But, when he was away from the program for a while, the pain would return.

I explained to Oscar that, as a former patient that I might help him to better learn what Dr. Sarno is teaching. However, I reminded him, (as I do everyone), I’m not a doctor so I was not giving him medical advice.

He told me that he understood and went on to explain that when the pain comes back, he does doubt the diagnosis of TMS and so, as he put it, “the learning does not last.”

The challenge of overcoming TMS is not just dealing with the pain. The physical pain plays a central role but is only a part of the condition of suffering with TMS. Also, we must consider the pattern of thoughts, emotions and beliefs that make up the experience of this disorder.

Oscar admitted that he was thinking that there is something structurally wrong.  This indulgence is a “mental trap” that will guarantees that the syndrome will persist.

We must intrude upon this thought. And, this is how we begin the process of becoming pain-free. We cannot control the pain and we may not be able to control our emotions associated with the pain, but we can control what we put our attention on.

I know. Easier said than done!

The physical pain is bad enough. Then, we have to deal with all the emotions associated with the pain: Sadness, frustration, anger, disappointment, fear, feeling trapped and out-of control.

I believe that it is not just the underlying pain that serves as a distraction. These conscious negative emotions also serve to distract your mind from unconscious negative feelings that are at the root cause of TMS.

So, what can we do?

We become students of out own psychology. We observe what our mind is doing.  We examine what we believe. Once we can see that the psychology of our TMS is a series of conditioned patterns, then we can begin to deconstruct those patterns.

More to follow…

I suppose after working with him for over a decade, I’ve gotten used to it. He still uses words that I don’t know and I really don’t mind admitting that to him. I’d rather learn than pretend so I come right out with a matter-of-fact: ”Dr. Sarno, I don’t know what that word means.” Being the great teacher that his is, he’s always ready to explain.

Repudiate was one of those words. It’s a great word that means “to deny the truth or validity of”. And, it fits perfectly with one of the key steps in learning what Dr. Sarno is teaching, as in:

Repudiate the Structural Diagnosis

This means that if you were told that there is a structural cause for your pain, and you’ve been examined by your doctor who has ruled out serious disease, then you must come to see that there is no structural basis for your pain. This is critical for Dr. Sarno’s program to work.

And, what of the X-ray or MRI that shows a structural “problem”?  Well, according to Dr. Sarno, structural conditions like disk abnormalities don’t cause pain!

For me, getting past the physical diagnosis was tough.  I saw an orthopedist who told me that a posterior facet syndrome was the cause of my pain.  I’m not even going to bother telling you what that is. Because I’m going to suggest that you do with your structural diagnosis what I did with mine…

Don’t think about it!

Dr. Sarno asserts that structural changes to the spine occur as part of the normal aging process. The lower disk of the human spine often shows signs of significant degeneration by age nineteen!

And, I like to remember the independent research where 43% of a random sampling of people with no pain showed significant disk abnormalities. Why don’t their herniated disks cause them pain?

But my favorite is taking note of the pattern of the pain.

It’s common for TMS to come and go. TMS will get better and worse depending of a number of psychological factors. Sometimes it will go away completely and then come back with a vengeance.

So, if the cause of the pain is related to a spinal abnormality, why would the pain come and go or get better or worse?  It wouldn’t.

Here’s what I said to myself, over the over again:

“There is nothing wrong with my back.”

And, if you can’t get the image of a disk abnormality out of your mind then stop trying!

Just remember, there are millions of people walking around with no pain oblivious to the fact that they have herniated, bulging and ruptured disks. Of course, if they had an X-ray or MRI and found out, they’d probably develop chronic pain.

And, the cause would be TMS.