Rhythm

[Barrett Dorko]

It’s been a quiet week in Cuyahoga Falls…

There’s a rhythm – always. I spent a year finding it in travel and quiet hotels and then in that moment just before I begin to speak. My breath deepens and I fall into a familiar patter and movement that seem quite natural to others. It isn’t to me, but I do it anyway.

He leaves today; first to Ireland where they stop for fuel and then Kuwait. There’s a short stay there and then he makes his way toward a room in Kirkuk where my son tells me he’ll spend 12 hours each day staring at several computer screens. As “Day Battle Captain” he monitors troop movements and reports what he sees to a colonel each day.

Moving back into clinical work the past few months I found another rhythm. This was punctuated by long hours at the computer and terrifying moments staring at piles of paperwork. In there somewhere I’m treating a few patients and sometimes I can feel the old rhythm of my solo practice, a practice now usually very far from my thoughts.

I personally have no faith whatsoever in the notion that my thoughts have an effect beyond the confines of my own body. Despite that, they are in the air today and making their way to that darkened room full of electronics and Army language, most of it foreign to me.

In the center of all that Alex will sit and watch. He knows what I couldn’t do during his last tour. I couldn’t find a way of speaking about all this without choking, without suddenly growing silent. “You need to be able to tell others Dad,” he says. I’ll try.

But first I have to find some sort of rhythm in his absence, a way of seeing it as something I can live with, work with and anticipate changing.

I’m listening carefully but it’s not there yet. Not today

[Mary C]

Thanks Barrett. You hit a harmonic there.

[gerry]

Barrett,

Your thoughts have effects literally around the world, I bet. I know they have effected other thoughts in Alabama. I imagine they have effects in Kirkuk, also. Their effects don't depend on our faith in them.

You share your thoughts seemingly so easily. What is it that causes you to become silent? Alex's role, or your new role at work?

[gilbert thomson]

Thanks Barrett

Sometimes I think the things that are the most difficult for us to speak about, and take the greatest effort, might just be the most important things that need to be said.

[Pernkopf]

Dear Barrett,

Thank you for posting your thoughts. Your acts of creativity, of writing and of compassion toward yourself, will help you traverse you son's absence.

Best Regards,
Karen

[Barrett Dorko]

What is it that causes you to become silent? Alex's role, or your new role at work?

Gerry,

I always appreciate what you have to say. I read this question at noon while teaching in Ann Arbor and thought about it while driving to Toledo (Ohio – yay!) to do another workshop tomorrow.

Re. my “new role at work”: While not teaching the past few months I’ve done more thinking than talking and now find myself wondering what’s to happen with this cobbled together career of mine. I’ve had a great deal of success fitting in at two very different skilled nursing facilities recently and have been strongly encouraged to renew my contract when the time comes. This acceptance by my fellow therapists is new to me, honestly, and while I find it comforting I can’t help but wonder if my efforts are worth the drive or the pay. I’ve not found myself excited to go to work yet, and I miss that.

Of course, I’ve not shared my feelings with the other therapists. Not at all. I model my behavior after Jim Halpert (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Halpert) on The Office and, frankly, feel much the same way about my job as he does about his (read the “character profile” in the link for more about this).

As for the teaching, after three workshops in as many days I’ve two to go and find myself searching for what it was I liked about this so much. I’ll have to get back to you on that.

I cannot yet speak of Alex without being struck by the thought of his absence. His job this time keeps him off the roads for a change but I’ve yet to find much comfort in that. While teaching I’m not one to share personal information to any extent anyway, and this subject is far too emotional for me to share as yet.

As always, I’ll write as I can, but my hero Jim responds to the often ridiculous, thoughtless and threatening behavior around him by just half-smiling and Captain Alex Dorko does as well. I need to learn from them.

Gerry, this makes me quiet, and for now, I think that this is best.

Thanks for asking.

[Barrett Dorko]

After a few delays on the ground in the plane a sandstorm kept Alex’s men pinned inside a tent in Kuwait for eight hours. He had a chance to call this afternoon and tells me he may get to his base in Iraq within a few days.

Maybe it’s our ability to endure the waiting that connects us. I’ve come to understand that there’s a lot of downtime among soldiers in a war zone but that the higher the rank the less of that you’ll find. This is not good news for Captains.

I’m thinking about the patience it takes to employ Simple Contact today, and I think that’s because I sensed so little of it in a number of students this week. They rush ahead and don’t ever stop long enough to allow the patient’s nervous system to respond to their touch. This is a big mistake, and perhaps the most common among those who never succeed in catalyzing ideomotion. I could say, "The rhythm of manual care should include a pause every once in a while." Maybe I should tell them of the waiting my son does, and how well prepared he is when things begin to happen.

Maybe that will be a path for my speaking.

Maybe.