A dream, a smoothie ride, and a quiet admonition to come back to the basics.

Last night, I had a weird dream.

I was in the gym working out with some guys I didn’t know. They were utilizing all these strange machines that looked more like props from a sci-fi movie than real fitness equipment. But I stayed with the essentials. Basic, functional movements. Things that have been around for a long time. And to my astonishment, I was much stronger than they were. Not because I was bigger or more intense, but because I wasn’t distracted by trying to figure out how to use the equipment.

Then the dream shifted.

We moved to a different portion of the gym that felt more like a theme park. You sat in a strange contraption that looked like an amusement-park ride. When it hoisted you up, you were supposed to drink this smoothie that was claimed to be “good for you.” I gave it a shot. It was dumb. Gimmicky. Uncomfortable. And I got off thinking, “Is this what health looks like now?”

A woman standing close by thought it was great. But I had to calmly explain to her that smoothies, especially those made with ice, are bad for digestion and knock the body out of balance according to the Daoist healing arts. She didn’t believe me at first. But as I kept talking and utilizing actual metaphors and straightforward explanations, I could see her attitude change. She began to understand. Began to ask questions. She began to question whether her assumptions were correct.

Kind of a strange dream, huh? Anyway, it stuck with me.

The continual craving for the new

The dream made me reflect about how much of our culture is based on new things, especially when it comes to health and wellness. Businesses are always trying to sell “the next big thing.” New tools. New tricks. New habits. What matters is that they’re flashy and unusual. That they’re fresh enough to cut through the noise. Not whether or not they work. In places like L.A., the questions aren’t “Is it true?” or “Is it useful?” but “Is it cool?”

People want to know what’s new. They might even be addicted to it.

And I don’t think it’s just because they’re bored. I believe it’s about pain.
I think it’s about how uncomfortable a lot of us feel when we’re left alone with our thoughts.

When we can’t be still

It’s something I’ve seen in myself, too. For years, I’ve been attempting to learn how to deal with my own pain. I’m naturally an introvert, but that doesn’t mean it’s always been easy to look within. Slowly learning how to return to my heart and really listen to it has helped. Daoist healing has shown me that healing is more than merely getting rid of symptoms. It’s about finding your way back to yourself. Especially if it’s something you’ve been trying to avoid your whole life.

People with histories of childhood complex trauma generally have nervous systems that are constantly on the lookout for danger. For them, being still can be hard to handle. So we seek diversions—big ones, small ones, flashy ones, and even “healthy” ones.
All of this is only to escape the pain we feel inside.

Back to the heart

After that dream this morning, I sat down to meditate and felt my heart right away. No effort. No struggle. Only connection. And I don’t think it was a coincidence. I believe that dream was trying to tell me something.

That even when the world is obsessed with what’s new, what’s bright, and what’s commercial, healing happens in the simple things.

It happens in what stays steady.
In what’s been true for thousands of years.
In what comes from the heart.

A quiet question

Maybe we don’t need the next gizmo, formula, or guru.
Maybe what we really need is to learn how to better hear what’s already inside us.

And maybe that’s what heart-centered healing really is: being able to trust the quiet voice inside, even when the world is trying to get us to focus on something “more exciting.”

So, I’ll ask you the same thing I’ve been asking myself all morning:
What’s your version of the smoothie ride?
And what would it be like to just… get off?