Single-cup Sampler: Psychiatry to Microclimates
Gourmet collection of musings for the discerning reader
Cienaga Seca Creek in San Bernardino National Forest
Like the overpriced gourmet coffee bean samplers at my local Walmart which yield only a single cup and inevitably wind up on the clearance shelf, this post is comprised of miscellaneous musings which do not have enough substance individually to fill an entire post but which, when read in collection, hopefully make for a varied and interesting read. Comments/suggestions are welcome, as always!
I have a sneaking suspicion that at least in psychiatry, an attending (supervising) psychiatrist’s competence is inversely related to the degree to which they critique minute details on their resident’s notes. That is, if I were to rank my attendings by descending level of competence, the line-up would eerily mirror a ranking of those same attendings arranged in ascending order of the amount of time spent altering minutiae in my clinical documentation.
I recently took a Twilight plunge. My wife and I watched all the movies of the series and I then listened to all of the audiobooks (I was a closeted Twilight fan in middle school.) Vampires, werewolves, melodramatic teenage romance, what’s not to like? Admittedly, I am quite puzzled that I would enjoy this saga as a male, 20-something, married father of two. It makes sense that one reason we are drawn to stories is that on some level they reflect truth and that we are actually drawn to that truth embedded in the plot of the story. I think that we often assume that stories attract us by way of their common themes and familiar experiences but I wonder if it goes beyond shared experience to actual Truth? I would like to think that we are drawn to truth just as much as we are to a good story. Though certainly melodramatic, I resonated with the description of Bella’s depression in New Moon after Edward leaves. I found myself reflecting on a young woman I met as a medical student whose fiancé had died in a car crash the week before. I will never forget the sound of her heart-wrenching sobs there in that office. There is something quite real and universal about the loss of a loved one, romantic or otherwise, and good stories present these experiences in a relatable and engaging way.
I’ve been thinking about microclimates lately. In ecology, climates have broad, generalized characteristics such as precipitation, temperature, wind speed, etc but within each climate are individual pockets which may have specific flora and fauna made possible by unique features of the area. For example, the leeward side of a mountain is often more arid than surrounding areas because of the rain shadow caused by the mountain. Another example is a riparian zone, the region bordering a body of water which is typically more lush than surrounding areas, made possible by the increased moisture content of the soil near the water. The contrast between riparian zones and the surrounding areas can be stark (the picture at the top of this post is of a riparian zone in the San Bernardino National Forest.) All this to say, I think that individuals also create microclimates. I’ve noticed that there are some folk who create little bubbles of peace and tranquility regardless of their environment and their presence is palpable. Being in their presence is like curling up on the couch to read a book while an Oregon rainstorm rages on outside the familiar walls of my home. I very much like the idea of being an oasis in the desert or a safe harbor in a storm.
Do you ever puzzle over why people do the things they do? Moving beyond the “why did that knucklehead cut me off on the freeway”, I wonder at the vast range of ideas about how to live life well. It seems some individuals are content to devote themselves to doing things they enjoy, be it in vocation or recreation. For some, it seems that “a life well lived” consists of filling one’s days with as much enjoyable activity as possible. And yet there are others who seem more driven by purpose and at times trade “pleasant” for “difficult yet meaningful.” I think most people probably experience a little bit of both. I have found myself thinking about this because I notice that often the things that are pleasant or that I simply enjoy do not seem to carry with them the sort of meaning or purpose that I derive from what I consider “the real stuff” in life. I notice that if I spend a lot of time doing only those things that are “fun” like working in my shop or being out in nature, I feel happy for a time but I eventually begin to feel that something important is missing. At the same time, I know that those things which do not seem purpose-driven to me are laden with purpose for others (for example, a naturalist exploring the wilderness or the craftsman working on a stained glass window.) I sense that I am creating an artificial dichotomy between the “meaningful” and the “not meaningful” in life and that realistically most of our pursuits fall somewhere on a continuum of meaning which is in part determined by our own makeup but to a far greater extent by absolute truth. Turning back to the beginning of this paragraph, I get the impression that people also fall on a continuum when it comes to orienting their lives to meaning/purpose vs pleasure. I imagine that part of this arises from temperament but I think that moral education plays a not-so-insignificant role.
I hope you all have a wonderful week!
I thoroughly enjoyed this variety of musings. No need to hide your Twilight fan status any longer! Thanks for giving me a lift. I will remember your concluding words and aspire to be an oasis of peace for others.