“There are two ways to live: You can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.” – Albert Einstein

Where do you fall along what I call “Einstein’s Miracle Spectrum”? Do you wish you could live as if everything that happens in your life truly is a miracle?  If so, I think paying attention to your inner voice gives you the perfect place to start.

Adapted from Dr. Judith Orloff's Guide to Intuitive Healing: 5 Steps to Physical, Emotional, and Sexual Wellness 

As a psychiatrist, I’ve seen how intense sexual attraction is notorious for obliterating common sense and intuition in the most sensible people. Why? Lust is an altered state of consciousness programmed by the primal urge to procreate. Studies suggest that the brain in this phase is much like a brain on drugs. MRI scans illustrate that the same area lights up when an addict gets a fix of cocaine as when a person is experiencing the intense lust of physical attraction. Also in the early stage of a relationship, when the sex hormones are raging, lust is fueled by idealization and projection - you see what you hope someone will be or need them to be - rather than seeing the real person, flaws and all.

Last week I wrote about the Doctor-Patient Relationship of the broken, outdated, patriarchal health care system of The Old Medicine.

Today, I’m going out on a limb to suggest a new kind of Doctor-Patient Relationship, the kind I practice and I hope others in the new Pink Medicine do too. Here goes nothing.

Last week, I was hiking with a new friend in my remote coastal Northern California town when we came across a guy who was hunched over in the weed with his bicycle and a skinned knee. He was fussing with a tool kit in his backpack and I asked him if he needed help. Turns out he was mountain biking with his buddy, when he blew a tire. Usually, he was able to fix his bike, but this time, it wasn’t working. His friend had ridden ahead to bike the 20 miles back home so he could get his car and come rescue his friend.

Without even thinking about it, I asked, “Can I help?”

He looked hopeful and lifted his eyebrows. I told him I had a car near the trailhead, not far from where we were. Then his brow fell. “Oh, I’d hate to trouble you, but my phone isn’t working. And I’d so appreciate the help.” (There’s no cell service where we were.)

“It’s no trouble,” I said. “I can take you to my place. I’ll make you some tea, and you can hang in the guest house, use the phone, and wait for your friend to come get you.”

So my friend and I helped him up, collected the pieces of his broken bicycle, loaded him into the car, and started to drive him home.