reprinted from The CFIDS Chronicle, Summer 1995

In what seems like another life I was 24, miserable and sold insurance. Now I am 30, happy and a filmmaker in Portland, Oregon (I have since moved to Seattle).

NEW! Downloadable MP3 Version

I remember the moment I came down with what was eventually diagnosed as CFIDS. It was a steamy September day. My date and I were standing in a sunflower field outside of Memphis, waiting for the doves to fly over. This year I had looked forward to opening day with anticipation because the birds had migrated on time and in great numbers. At dinner that evening, I struggled to hold an intelligible conversation. I drove home, went to bed thinking it was just exhaustion and did not permanently rejoin the living for four-and-a-half years.

The following is what I realized over long periods of frustration, that eventually gave way to resignation, that turned into a peace that began to teach me. The hard part was getting to the point where my ego was squashed sufficiently to where it had no influence. At that time I was open to all things internal and subtle and I listened.

I am not a slug by nature. Just a month before becoming ill, I had placed fourth in a regional mountain-bike race and was training to run a marathon. I had graduated from the University of Colorado–Boulder, where my father says affectionately that I majored in skiing and extracurriculars. I played rugby, ran, biked in the mountains and studied. I was not someone looking for a way to spend the next half decade as an invalid. But I did.

At first it was diagnosed as mononucleosis and bronchitis. I had lost a lot of weight; my hair was falling out by the handfuls. My vision was blurred, my brain was fuzzy, my joints ached and I had chronic tonsillitis. I was coughing up blood. I slept a lot, and after four months, began venturing back to the office, trying to drive the fatigue away with productive effort. When I looked in the mirror, I did not recognize myself. I had aged 15 years in five months and felt like I was 80 and getting older every day. I thought I was dying. My health was spiraling down out of control at an accelerating pace.

After five doctors in nine months, I was diagnosed with CFIDS by Dr. Paul Cheney. He showed me scans of fatigued brains and said to avoid all aerobic exercise. I was just happy to have found a physician that did not treat me like a lying, incurable, whining hypochondriac.

I gave up my apartment. I had my things put into storage and moved home, thankful to have a place to fall back on. I was put on disability leave.

After Two Years, I Quit Trying to Get Well and an Understanding of Holism and Healing Began to Evolve.

I attacked the illness with-all my energy. I saw it as something to beat into submission, like a bad cold. I made a battle plan. My first priority was to gain weight. I thought if I could only gain my weight back, I would be strong again. I drank weight gainer and went from 158 to 185 pounds in eight months. I thought that I was well, but when I tried to ride my mountain bike, the fatigue came rushing back, wiping out all of my perceived progress.

I did everything I could think of to get well. I took vitamins and drank fresh squeezed juice every day. I kept imagining how my life used to be. I tried to hold on to that, determined to will myself to normalcy. I kept a journal of my daily activities and energy levels, adding those things that made me feel better and deleting or reducing the ones that caused a relapse. The list of things that I could do without relapse grew shorter and shorter. Finally, weary of being clubbed by the crushing fatigue, I began to completely let go of the life that I used to have and began bending, releasing all struggle and slowly cultivating a different intention.

If I felt good enough to walk around the block, ever wary of stirring the fatigue beast, I would instead walk around the yard. Eventually my friends quit calling, which was actually a relief. It was embarrassing not to be able to explain to them why I couldn't go places: going out wasn't worth the risk.

Progress was measured in years and seasons. Referring to my journal, I would try to pinpoint what caused this or that setback. Seasons would go by with absolutely no change in my condition. I was discouraged, disappointed and had run out of ideas.

The less I did, the quieter I became, and the more I began to tune into the willow trees, squirrels and passing of the seasons outside my window. It just wasn't worth it to venture out into the traffic and chaos of "normal" life. Everything was so loud and nerve-racking and would affect me so strongly. It would take days before I was able to relax and settle back down after driving in traffic or going to a shopping center. I retreated inward.

The aborigines say that there are seven directions: north, south, east, west, up, down and within. The first six brought about a total stress response that always ended in brain-crushing fatigue, so I spent days in silence, reading, sleeping and looking outside. It was a monastic existence. After two years, I quit trying to get well and an understanding of holism and healing began to evolve.

I recorded my dreams religiously in the hope of solving the mystery of my condition. Throughout this period of silence my dreams were more vivid than usual. Many nights I would feel vibrations, like an energy wave that would start to bounce from my head to my toes and back again, gathering speed until it was just a quiet hum. Then I would lift out of my body and drift through the ceiling and fly around. My external world was replaced by a rich internal world of exploration and discovery. I saw lightbeings that would take me places and tell me things. One night they told me that I was sick like the Earth and implied that we must first heal our lives before there would be any meaningful progress towards healing the planet. I felt so fortunate and thankful to be alive. At the same time I felt sad for the Earth, for we were both sick and trying to heal. The idea of death was exposed as a big illusion. Only the body dies, gets sick and feels pain. When I would have one of these vivid "dreams" there was no illness. With this new perspective, the "rat race" looked more pathetic than ever. I wanted no part of it and the thought of not ever being able to rejoin it was not the end of the world for me.

As one season faded into another, I resigned myself to possibly never climbing a mountain, going fly fishing or having a family. It was OK. There was such great peace in the quiet and stillness of my life and in the order of nature.

This harmony began to show me the way to heal and how. I understood that every living thing has its talent and purpose in nature; Squirrels don't swim, fish don't fly, spring follows winter and trees grow a little stronger each year. They don't grow overnight. I began to see from the rhythm of nature that it was unrealistic to hope to heal in a matter of weeks or months. I knew that as part of the momentum that naturally gravitates toward radiant health and renewal that I had to be patient and have faith that it would manifest in its own time. After all, it took 24 years of living to dig this hole for myself.

I thought people needed to know that all is well and good, that if you slow down enough (turn off the TV), there is a cosmic peace in every moment. Regardless of what is happening in the world, the fact is that the sun sets every day, the pear trees are pregnant and the tides come and go on schedule. From a cosmic perspective, there is nothing to fear; all is at it should be. The proof is outside your window. I also figured out from my dreams that I must make films, photographs and paintings that help people reestablish their lost connection with this harmony.

All I had to do now was to heal, not simply get well. There is a world of difference between wanting to heal and wanting to be symptom-free. With this new perspective and faith, I knew that some day I would walk in the mountains again, but it was some day, not next year or the year after. There was no time limit, not even a secret date in the future that I was shooting for. It could have been 20 years from then. I had no idea and released the healing schedule completely.

After two years, I was able to take one art class and to go to a Tai Kuk class (a combination of Tai Chi and Yoga) several times a week. I only pursued things that seemed to enhance my energy and brought joy to me. I felt well walking and sitting in the woods. Photography attracted energy, especially developing and printing the pictures. Then I began to do pastel drawings of my photographs. My strength slowly began to return. The more art I did, the stronger I would feel. The more I followed my heart, the more my energy would return. My hair stopped falling out and grew back. I no longer needed to wear reading glasses. I knew that I was healing and not simply getting well. I was healing my life.

Four years after standing in the dove field in Tennessee, I thought I might have the stamina to go skiing with some college friends. I flew to Seattle then drove with them up to Whistler Mountain in Canada. The first day back on the snow was absolute paradise with a blue alpine sky and perfect conditions. I was thankful beyond words. I rode the chair lifts in complete bliss, thankful to God, the cosmos, the earth, the sky, the snow, the mountains, the wind and especially for the energy that allowed me to be there. My friends had no idea how fortunate they were to have a solid foundation of health.

After the trip, I rented a car and drove down to Portland and then to the Oregon coast. When I woke up and looked out at the rugged coast, I knew that I had found my new home. I had traveled around the world in college and after, but I had never seen such a beautiful coastline or breathed such sweet pacific tree-filtered air.

Nine months later I was strong enough to make the move to Portland from Memphis and enrolled in film and photography classes at the local art school. It was a joy not qualifying for disability benefits.

I am "healthy" now. (See What is Recovery?) I have started a small business, Sacred Earth Film Productions. I work out two to three times a week with weights and 20 minutes on the stair machine. I bench press 35 pounds over my weight. I take vitamins, drink fresh juices every day and take the occasional power nap when needed. Last summer I spent six weeks hiking in and around Glacier National Park, Montana, collecting footage for my video "Cloud People." It is designed to help patients relax into a state that allows the healing process to occur more easily.

I try not to think about those years spent convalescing. CFIDS gutted my youth. I was once very strong, became an old man, then slowly grew younger. There were things I learned that changed the way I would have lived my life, given my youthful stubbornness and feverish pursuit for the material. Now, I always listen to my heart and adjust my path accordingly. I am bound to a life of seeking the flow and going with it. It's a choice I make every day and many times a day. I hope my story will shed light on your healing game plan.

NEW: MP3 audio version available for download.
Listen to the complete story and find your healing path now. $9.98 U.S.

12 Steps to Recovery