Designer Genes

Last night I watched testimony before a Senate Committee on C-SPAN. According to the testimony, scientific research is now showing that the human genome can be altered by trauma during childhood. The research also indicates that biological diseases, including cancer, are more prevalent in adults who experienced trauma in their childhood.

A child's genes are actually altered through the experience of trauma!

So I have continued to research this, and other research shows that trauma (such as car accidents and the like) turns on certain gene pathways, and the mortality rate of the person is affected by the specific gene pathways that are activated by the trauma. This means that if certain gene pathways are activated, the person is either more or less likely to survive! Amazing! I don't really understand the specific gene pathways discussed, but it's amazing to me just how dynamic these genes are.

These research findings are like believing that the world is flat, only to discover that it is actually round!

There is so much more to the body and mind than we ever thought possible. We can now look at PET scans and SPECT scans of the brain of a child growing up in "chaotic" environments and actually see that their brain functions differently (and abnormally). And now, this addition to the body of scientific knowledge that a child's genome can actually be altered by a traumatic experience. . . .it just changes everything!

We used to think of the human brain and genes as these generally static things. A person was born with a certain number of brain cells, and that remained the same throughout a person's life. We also used to believe that a traumatic spinal cord injury meant a life-time of paralysis. And we used to believe that genes remained the same (unless mutated by some kind of unnatural force, such as radiation exposure). But none of this, as it turns out, is scientifically factual, at all.

So my question is this: If trauma affects the genome, does that mean that the human genome is affected by all environmental conditions to which we are exposed?

I have believed for many years that the possibility exists for genes to be changed for the positive, because each and every time a cell divides, there exists an opportunity for some kind of mutation occur, but why does this mutation always have to result in a "negative" change or outcome? Why can't a genetic mutation yield a "positive" change in some aspect of the human's developmental evolution?

This new scientific knowledge only serves to confirm what I have always believed, and that is that we are ultimately not defined by our genetic code. In fact, I believe that we are always in a constant state of genetic flux. Which means that even though traumatic events may, in fact, alter our genetic pool of information, I also believe that we can create positive change in this genome through conscious connection and focused intention.

And we see the effects of this every day, only we call it healing.

Line Dance

I have a lot of experience with conformity to social expectations, and also the lack thereof. We human beings write books and poems about the road less traveled, and how taking these roads will somehow make all the difference. We create posters that dare us to be square pegs in the round holes. We sing about dreaming the impossible dream, and remind each other how what other people think of us is just none of our business.

So why are we still so afraid to step out of line?

What I'm finding interesting tonight is how even though I've pretty much spent my whole life stepping out of line, I am still affected by what other people think about the way that I live my life. It doesn't stop me necessarily from turning my whole life upside down, but I am still affected by what other people think about me and the choices that I make. It's just interesting...because I would think that a person with such a long history of gypsy living would be more immune to the thoughts of others. . . .but she's not :)

Since 1998, I've had a very strong vision of the way I want my life to be structured, and while I've made several attempts to create this vision, I have not (yet) succeeded. Sitting here tonight, I see very clearly how that incomplete success is caused by the lack of a complete commitment to the creation of the vision. And, interestingly, the lack of commitment is informed by my anticipation of how other people will think about me and the life I have structured. It just surprises me. . . .to find this lurking within me.

Ham or eggs?

I love this line from one of the Gray's Anatomy shows where the husband of a wife shares the wisdom of commitment as "ham or eggs." The chicken is involved, he says (because the chicken DOES provide the eggs), but the pig, ah, the pig is committed to the project. So, which is it. . . .ham or eggs? Am I going to remain involved with my life, or am I going to make a committment to it? Ham or eggs? It's that simple.

The Shiny Gift

I received a wonderful gift this holiday, a box of assorted chocolate truffles wrapped up in the most amazing blue irridescent paper like winter delight wrapped magically around this package. I don't even want to unwrap this gift, so beautiful is the package! But this unsuspecting gift is yielding something so much more important than the potential delightment of my tastebuds that calls to me with the same magical taunt of a Narnian turkish delight!

But some gifts, perhaps, should just never be unwrapped.

On a symbolic level, this gift embodies my life here at the canyon. During my two years here, I have fallen completely in love with the canyon, especially during the winter wonderland time of the year when my path to work in the wee hours of the night can feel like God has sprinkled magic dust of enlightenment (just for me) through the frozen crystals upon the grounded ice and snow...which is what this wrapping paper reminds me of....that magical sparkle that draws me in and guides my way along the darkness of the path.

But there's something inside this box that is not good for me, and I know it. Yes, of course, we're talking about a few chocoloate truffles...lol...but it doesn't change the fact that these chocolates are still not good for me, just like how there are certain parts of my life here that are specifically and fundamentally just not good for me. . . .and that's not ever going to be any different. . . .ever.

Do I open and eat them anyway when I know full well that doing so is not good for me?

I feel like the heroine/victim in the Blue Beard story, how she can't wipe the blood clean from the key once she has discovered the truth of what lies behind the door unlocked by this simple little key. So I love these little nuggets of spirit disguised as chocolate truffles that have made their way into my life, because they enlighten my path in deeper wisdom than anything my human mind could ever communicate to my self. Because sitting here looking at this package I just can not deny the awareness that as pretty as the package may be, the tiny little truffles that lie lurking beneath the irridescent wrapping are never, ever going to be good for me. . . .

There is a reason why they say, "Ignorance is bliss," because how, now, will I ever be able to eat these tiny little nuggets of chocolate, when they have been symbolically filled with the denial-piercing wisdom of spirit?

Roots

I don't know why I need to be reminded of this truth (over and over again), but we don't just wake up one day as who we are. . . .we have become the person we are because of everything that has happened before today.

Life is a journey, not a destination.

So today I am reminded that there are roots to everything, roots that are not always easy to discern. I needed to cry today, but didn't know why. And, yes, sometimes I do need to understand why I feel what I feel, because there are roots to every thought and every feeling, even if I don't have conscious awareness of them.

I didn't just feel like crying today for no good reason.

I hesitate to write the words. . . .words that belong to an eight-year old, and not really me. This is her story to tell, not mine. Today she shared her story with me, and I listened. I know this is vague, but that's the way the roots of feelings are. . . .vague and indistinct.

I think that's why feelings can sometimes be hard to understand. . . .because the roots of what we feel run so deep and underground. Or maybe we're just not ready to hear what the feelings are trying to say, and so we escape or avoid until we're ready listen. . . .or until the roots have been  exposed for exactly what they are.

Today, the roots were exposed. . . .

I went to mass tonight, my first time here at the canyon, in search of something to help me move beyond the roots, beyond the feelings, beyond this ever pervasive sense of disconnection and isolation. Maybe not so much to move beyond the roots, but perhaps to find a way for my roots to feel connected to those roots that run deeper than me and ground me to something more than just the smallness of my life.