Day 41 Night - The Refreshing Candor of Alex DeYoung and the Meaning of Medicine

My friend Alex DeYoung has been sober for six years, and he is only twenty-three years old. An audio engineer at a music production facility, Alex is married to his sweetheart Elyse Strandberg who is 108 days pregnant and literally about to burst forth their daughter Charlie into this world. I spent some time with them over the weekend, and Alex gave a refreshingly candid take on this blog.

Elyse, Charlie, Alex & Some Guy at the 2011 X-Games

After he told me he had been reading the entries as they appeared on Facebook, I asked what he thought about it. Perhaps hoping to bask in a little reflected glory, I received feedback that taught me something about myself. Alex said that he loved some of the blog entries and couldn't stand others. At times, he felt like he was in my head and going through the process of dealing with Hepatitis C himself, and he did not like being in the place. Other time, he grooved with the spiritual message, but then he also felt like he was being preached to by a guy who was trying to convince himself that everything would be okay. It's almost as if I am holding a bucket of shit at times and trying to convince people that it smells like roses.

Sometimes people surprise you by pulling rabbits out when you think they are just taking off their hat. Alex revealed a facet of the jewel of my consciousness, a way I deal with with fear by trying to rationalize it and then transform the feeling into something else. Yes, I do believe that this life can be reduced to the concept of choosing between fear and faith all throughout the day and night. When I choose fear, my character defects flare up and come out as defense mechanism, habitual ways of handling what I do not want to handle by not being present and accountable. When I choose faith, it is not always comfortable, sometimes it's downright uncomfortable, but it seems to consistently allow me to walk through the most challenging moments in my life.

I keep thinking about the end of the Great Spirit morning prayer of the Lakota Sioux medicine men that I wrote about in this blog. It goes like this: "Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and open eyes so when life fades like the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame." The impact of that closure for me is that I do not want to be staring at the ground with my hands clenched at the end of my life. I am tired of feeling shame, and I choose not to walk that path anymore. I have to remember what the Native Americans meant when they spoke of "Medicine." They were speaking about so much more than just healing the body from sickness and wounds. Medicine meant being in harmony with all living things and finding the inner balance of true health by avoiding the harm of disease-producing behaviors and thoughts.

Navajo Sand Painting of the Sacred Wheel of Life

As I go through the crucible of my Hepatitis C Treatment which I start in under two weeks, I want to hold on to the spiritual medicine that is reflected in the sacred wheel of life. Often, I am scared that these are just words and that I will fail when faced with the reality of being sick. After all, it is the treatment that is the worst; I have almost no effects from the actual virus at this point in time. I have always been able to talk the talk, but my longstanding liability in this life has been the ability to walk the walk. Now I really don't see much of a choice so I choose to have faith and believe that everything will be alright.