Iquitos is the biggest city in the largest province in Peru, covering the entire Amazon. It is the home of its only mental hospital, the CREMI (Centro Rehabilitacion Enfermos Mentales Iquitos), which is a remnant of old movie images of insane asylum’s with dark, damp, dirty. Iron-barred cubicles. Peru is closing these archaic institutions and moving to a community-based model. This approach integrates the chronically mentally ill into the community, using supervised group homes and closely monitoring patients’ medications.

The CREMI decided to make the hospitals closing a cause for community celebration. They waited for the Festival de Belen, and the annual appearance of the clowns to publicly announce this ceremonial farewell to the chains of the past and moving into modernity.

The clowns have come to Iquitos to support the public health of the community every August for the last 6 years. This year 134 clowns from all over North and South America, Russia, Poland, Italy, and Australia came to inaugurate the festival with a parade down the streets of Belen. The clowns visit hospitals, old-age homes, hospices, AIDS shelters, and homes for teenage mothers; they paint homes, create street murals and conduct workshops for children mornings and afternoons, on dance, percussion, acrobatics, puppetry, making toys and musical instruments out of recyclable materials. Most importantly the clowns leave behind grass roots organizations dedicated to public and preventative health that are supported by an international community.

On the evening before we were to tear down the barred cells, the CREMI director, Dr. Nestor Aguilar, and a Pan American Health Organization (PAHO) consultant from Argentina, Dr. Hugo Reales (both psychiatrists), welcomed the entire clown group at our hotel. They explained the symbolic significance of the next morning’s event; we would be helping them joyfully announce this leap into the future. As a colleague, they asked me to join them in the ceremonial dismantling, but they had no idea that the next day their colleague would appear in his clown persona.

My clown self is a bulging, 6’6″ ballerina in pink leotard and tutu, topped by a flamingo headdress, clicking castanets and dancing flamenco. It doesn’t matter where I go or what language is spoken, this clown inspires at the very least a finger-pointing gasp, most people giggle and laugh, and on occasion a collapse hysterically. This ridiculousness always gets me out of my head and any lingering ego issues, and forces me to connect with people at a spontaneous heartfelt level. The ability to laugh, at ourselves, each other, even in troubled times, is a basic aspect of our humanity.

The Clown/Fool is an archetypal character that serves the societal role of poking fun, ridiculing and making public the cultures secrets. In so doing they serve the function of diffusing tension in the community and reduce anxiety. The Jester’s can get away with revealing that the Emperor has no clothes, because they are willing to reveal their own nakedness.

The next morning we drove to the CREMI, which sits in the middle of lush tropical vegetation outside the city limits. Doctors, staff, patients, families and cameras rolling, met us at the gates. On seeing me, Nestor and Hugo smiled and applauded. We marched in singing and dancing,and when the energy peaked the entire ensemble participates in pu lling down the bars.

I danced on the gates, laughing at the thought that I was Alan Bates in the King of Hearts, and if anybody looked at footage of this event they would have trouble telling the patients from the visitors. Dancing on the doors of these crumbling walls is one of my highlight clowning experiences, but it turned out that the best part of my visit happened afterwards.

I was dancing on the barred gates with Joel, a male patient in his 20s who after we were finished wouldn’t relinquish my hand and invited me for a walk around the grounds. The walk took 40 minutes, during which we walked arm in arm, Joel spoke Spanish (which I don’t understand), and I spoke English (which Joel didn’t understand). We talked animatedly and understood each other, I taught him the chorus to “She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain” and he repeated. When she comes. We walked together, arm in arm, both understanding everything being said, because like all loving connections the contact is far more important than the content.

Laughing, smiling and touching are a fundamental aspect of our humanity. Welcome the clowns.

I’m in the heart of the Peruvian Amazon, with my friend Patch Adams and Gesundheit!, and Bola Roja, the Peruvian clowning organization, who have been coming to Iquitos for the last 6 years to organize a grass-roots approach to public health delivery. These clown trips have become an instrument of change in the city’s poorest slums; they have helped integrate the healthiest parts of the community into a network of agencies who continue to do the hands-on health care work.

The poorest area of the city is in Belen, a community that lies in the Amazon floodplain. Every year during the rainy season, Belen homes are flooded out. The people build rudimentary bridges, and commute in canoes and rafts. The people have no access to sewage or potable water, and the rest of Iquitos dumps its waste there is well. The water (in which the children swim happily) is filled with sewage. All the ravages of poverty and powerlessness are here; violence, crime, alcoholism, child prostitution, sexually transmitted diseases, teenage pregnancy, and drug use are all rampant.
When I’m down here I conduct a mental health clinic with Amazon Promise, a non-profit, NGO that provides healthcare to indigenous people. This year the mobile clinic was held in a one-room flophouse, where for pennies someone can lay down his or her mat on the floor, and for a quarter you get an enclosed space. There is a rudimentary pharmacy dispensing some drugs but they carry no psychiatric medications other than Valium.

The huge room is filled with sick and crying children, adults who are getting sewn up, and infected wounds are everywhere. Somehow this noisy circus is organized and works. I sit in one corner for some bare semblance of conversational privacy, with the patient and my wonderfully sensitive interpreter, Rosa.

The first patient Pablo was a 17-year-old young man who suffered daily episodes of momentary spells, in which he couldn’t remember anything the teacher was saying; or if playing soccer he’d suddenly blank out and not remember what to do with the ball. These spells happened on a daily basis for the last year, he didn’t feel them coming on, and they could last from moments to half an hour. Pablo said he fell and bumped his head 3 years before and wondered if that might be the cause of his current problem. He seemed a bit lethargic and withdrawn, but denied sleep problems or suicidal ideation. Neurological examination revealed no gross abnormality and there was no family history of seizure disorder.

Pablo hadn’t told anyone about his symptoms, only that he was not feeling well and it was not pursued further. I asked him if there was anyone he trusted to share his truth, and he said he’d already told us more than he had anybody else in his life.

I told him that if he could talk to just one other person about what he was feeling, or afraid of then his symptoms would improve. Pablo insisted he had no one; so I told him that before I left, I’d leave him a gift from Rosa and me so that he could talk to us whenever he wanted to again. I bought him a fluffy lion and a note along that said that he had heart of a lion, because even when he was hurt he remained strong and fearless. But his skin was soft and furry, so that a few could get close to him. I thanked him for letting me be able to touch him and hoped through this lion we would touch again.

Gloria, a woman was in her early 20s wanted me to see her seven-year-old son Pablo because of his recent onset epileptic seizures. Gloria went on to say that she believed she had contributed to his problems because for many years she told Pablo that she didn’t want him. She would tell him he reminded her of his father who had abandoned her before Pablo was even born. Gloria lived with another man who fathered her second child (now a 3-year-old son), and was currently 6 months pregnant. A month ago her second man abandoned her; Gloria was working as a waitress and added that in order to feed her children she also worked as a prostitute. Tears were rolling down Rosa’s cheeks when she translated Gloria’s words.

My training in psychiatry has not prepared me to deal with these kinds of social problems. Her overwhelming survival needs were not going to be met by insight-oriented psychotherapy or psychiatric drugs. I felt so helpless in providing any meaningful support, an at the end of our 45’ together could only say, her son would always love her, and to be the best mother she could so he could love her even more.

Before leaving she thanked us, for what I wondered and then added, thank you for listening to me. Here in Belen, just being paid attention to and knowing you’ve been heard is enough to relieve suffering.

At the recent Oregon Country Fair, I had an opportunity to visit again with my friend and sister Agnes Baker Pilgrim. Grandmother Agnes is a renowned spiritual leader and keeper of the sacred Salmon Ceremony for her people, the Siletz Indians of Oregon. An 83-year-old great-great-great grandmother, she is Chairperson of an international group, the 13 Indigenous Grandmothers; who travel the globe praying for the healing of the earth and all its creatures.

The Grandmothers have prayed with the Dalai Lama, at the Vatican, and wherever they go they speak of the dangers of a materially-driven culture that exploits the earth and threatens the survival of lands, plants, and way of life.

We sat in the shade while drinking morning coffee and as is the custom with a younger brother, she has license to tease me at any opportunity. When Agnes looked at me she said what’s with those ski poles? I told her that I have a balance problem especially at nighttime and they help get around these dirt paths in the dark.. “You could just use a cane” she said, to which I responded that I thought I looked better walking with the poles.

She smiled and said you need an attitude adjustment brother and shook her wooden cane at me. I call this my attitude adjuster, I can reach my grandkids if they need a reminder to change their behavior. She poked at my leg and said “get rid of those poles, you need a walking stick, a wooden stick, look at it as a gift from the Earth Mother who is holding your hand as she guides your feet on her face. She will keep you in balance.

She blessed me before we broke camp, fanned me with her eagle feathers asked the Great Spirit to watch over me as I continued to walk this path of life. When she finished we hugged, and she whispered in my ear, you could walk with a cane and still be a man.

I thought I was coming to the Fair to speak, but I really came to listen to my older sister share her wisdom. In spite of all the reminders it’s still difficult to let go of my preconceptions. Every time I think I’ve got it, something happens to remind me how full of it I am.

Nobody gets it, we are always getting it, so stay connected to your relatives and listen to their wisdom.

Just got back from our annual family reunion at the Oregon Country Fair (OCF). This counterculture carnival has been going on since 1969; its mission is to “create events and experiences that nurture the spirit, explore living artfully and authentically on earth, and transform culture in magical, joyous and healthy ways”. We love coming to this gathering that celebrates the joy of the human spirit.

6,000 volunteers make up the Fair Family; they organize it, run it, and perform in it, everyone makes the event happen; they build, organize, staff it, then open it up to tens of thousands of visitors over a long July weekend. Fair goers can listen to great music, renowned speakers on subjects as diverse as farming, alternative energy and health care. On the 30+ acres there are craftspeople, theater, dance, puppetry, and parades all day long.

The public leaves at 7 PM, and then the Fair Family comes out to play. It becomes a magical improvisational playground. This is my chance to become the Truth Fairy, a ballerina in pink leotard, tutu, curly wig and a clown nose. My brother, a retired airline pilot dressed as a giant Blueberry, and my daughter dressed as the disco diva, Blaze Bountiful, lead me into the fairgrounds with signs and fanfare.

We set up 4 corner poles and connect them with Do Not Cross tape, creating a 6 sq.ft. enclosure with two chairs facing each other. Blaze Bountiful and the Blueberry announce…” the infamous Truth Fairy has arrived and has the answer to an important question, problem or predicament you may be facing…anything you want to know but have been afraid to ask. Three minutes with the Truth Fairy could change your life”…and so the rap goes on and on.

People line up, because a 6’6″ fairy ballerina is no threat; you can choose to pay attention or ignore the ridiculousness of this scene. For me, it’s a chance to let my spontaneity emerge. I open a channel into my unconscious mind and trust that my intuitive soul will connect me with somebody else’s, in a way that promotes healing.

Amazing things happen; this year a middle-aged, bright, well-spoken Chinese woman with a strong accent, sits down and says, “before I ask you anything, tell me who you are and why you are doing this”. I want to honor this traditional Oriental greeting style and tell her that I am truly a doctor of the mind, but my real gift lies in healing the spirit. I am like a Ji Tong I said, but she looked at me blankly; Ji Tong I repeated, rural Chinese folk healers who treat illnesses and problems by channeling the spirits of ancient Buddhist priests. She laughed, “Oh, you mean jitong (which she pronounced completely differently)…so you are a magician, which made me giggle out loud.

Two minutes had already passed, and there was a line of people waiting, so I said maybe this formal introduction has something to do with the question you wanted to ask me? To which she responded, that she hadn’t thought about it that way, but yes…” I am with and Occidental man who wants a more committed relationship, I want to go slower and get to know him better.

The Truth Fairy said, “Look at what just happened here, we knew nothing about each other a couple of minutes ago and yet we have already made a soulful connection. Maybe now is the right place, and the right time, to make more spontaneous connections”.

She paused and said “ but I am afraid that if I make this jump I will fall, I said, “you will land or you will learn to fly. Trust your heart, not just your head, this is an opportunity to write a new ending to your old story”.

Every act of insight is the result of a prepared mind and a serendipitous moment (or several minutes).

Big Pharma has been frantically trying to discover the female equivalent to Viagra; a pill that will boost the female sex drive. Boehringer Ingelheim just asked the Food and Drug Administration to approve its drug Flibanserin, for women who report a lack sexual desire.

But when the FDA tested its effectiveness they found it failed to have a significant impact on libido. In spite of the fact that the manufacturers cherry-picked the subjects, giving it only to younger women, who were not taking any other drugs, and in stable relationships, there was no significant increase in sexual desire between women who took the drug and those who took a placebo.

The drugs ineffectiveness however, will not deter the manufacturer from marketing at to consumers, because this  is a market worth billions of dollars. It will be sold as the treatment for a new psychiatric disease called Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (HSDD). This “disease is defined by a lack of sexual fantasies, little to no desire for sex, and stress over the low sexual functioning.

By this definition a 35-year-old single mom, raising two school-aged kids, and a full-time job, who comes home exhausted and not thinking about sex could be suffering from HSDD. She will watch a TV advertisement about the illness she may be suffering from, and to ask her doctor if Flibanserin could be for her. This expensive new pill is a variant of existing anti-depressants, working on dopamine and serotonin receptors in the brain).
There is no magic pill for sexual arousal in women because it’s more complicated than in men. With few exceptions, there are no mechanical issues for not having a successful sex life. Arousal is multi-determined (mood, privacy, body image, availability of partners) that it’s unrealistic to expect a pill to address a sexual problem.

Wake up to these drug-promoting scams for unacceptable behaviors and feelings that are defined as diseases. This young mother would be much better off using the money she’d pay for pills, to get somebody to help her with the kids an evening a week; then dress-up, go out, and have fun.

The Flib is a Flub.

Once a year, Patch Adams MD and the Gesundheit! Institute, in collaboration with the School for Designing Society at the University of Illinois put on a workshop focusing on redesigning the health care system. It’s attended by, healthcare providers, administrators, patients, students, musicians, cyberneticists, community organizers, and other dreamers, all of whom believe that we can design our future rather than just react to it.

My part in the program is to present a vision of mental health care that is a paradigm shift from the current disease-based model, which is based on declaring people mentally ill. We give sufferers an official diagnosis, which is the only way your provider gets paid.

The diagnostic bible of mental illnesses is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM), a new one the DSM V will soon appear and will list over 500 “diseases”. The original DSM published forty years ago had less than 50. This diagnostic explosion is because psychiatry has declared unacceptable behaviors and feelings as mental illnesses, which is why 25% of all Americans now carry a mental illness diagnosis.

This epidemic rise in “mental illnesses” has come at the same time drugs have been discovered to treat these symptoms. The psychiatrists, who create these “diseases”, are distinguished academicians and researchers who get paid by the pharmaceutical companies for recommending these drug treatments. The pharmaceutical companies then, through direct to consumer advertising, convince the public that if they are feeling anything other than wonderful in every moment they could be suffering from this disease. If you’re shy, unfocused, fidgety, sad, anxious, or angry, you might have a disease, be sure to ask your doctor because there is a pill that can cure it.

Most of these so-called mental illnesses will go away with time, if faced directly and with some supportive therapy. But more than half of the millions of adults and children who are taking potent psychoactive drugs are not involved in any therapy at all; they only get refills of their medications.

My vision of mental health care is a community-based system that’s not based on disease intervention but on prediction and prevention; a community coming together to share their resources and helping face problems before being declared sick and/or disabled. People from diverse backgrounds sharing their experience, wisdom and healing strategies; it is by sharing our stories that we make sense of our lives, and they inspire our hope for the future.

Patch and I have shared such a vision for years; we call it the Patch Adams Fill Moon Festival (PAFMF), a three-day gathering where people reach out to support each other. For example, parents of kids who are inattentive, active and unfocused, will talk about effective alternatives to medications; Native American veterans who were welcomed home in traditional returning warrior ceremonies and among whom PTSD is rarely seen will offer their strategic intervention; adults taking care of their aging and infirmed parents will learn new strategies and find support.

At the PAFMF we will be clowning in hospitals, have ecological projects on the streets, music, theater, puppetry, story telling, and of course a colorful closing that features Patch’s favorite pastime, a record-breaking number of people mooning.

I ended my presentation by suggesting that the greatest impact we could have on the mental health of the world would be to outlaw direct to consumer pharmaceutical advertising. The room erupted into applause chanting Full Moon Fest! Full Moon Fest! This is my moonbeam dream.

P.S. If you’re interested in hearing more about this read my new book Kindling Spirit: Healing From Within, appearing monthly on Reality Sandwich. It’s free-of-charge and can be accessed directly from my website @ www.healingdoc.com.

A few weeks ago, along with my colleagues from the Turtle Island Project (www.turtleislandproject.com) we conducted an experiential workshop entitled, Creating Healing Ceremonies. The group, comprised of Western and Native American healers, believes that ceremonies provide the structure by which people get in touch with their feelings, the place the human spirit dwells.

We asked participants to bring along a sacred object (not necessarily a religious one); something that held special significance for them. During the workshop, we imbued those sacred/symbolic/totemic objects with new power. Using the language of neuroscience, myths, and ceremonies, we explored the many ways to influence the healing process.

Brenda, a woman and her 40′s, was a participant, and had completed a yearlong treatment program for a metastatic cancer of the sinus cavity just three weeks earlier. She came to this weekend to celebrate the end of a torturous regimen of surgery, radiation and chemotherapy, which left her hairless, without saliva or taste, weak and tiring easily. She came to this weekend a scarred warrior who wanted to celebrate the end of treatment.

We set the stage for her healing ceremony by telling the story of the Native American Sundance ceremony; where warriors offer their flesh as a sacrifice ensuring their survival as individuals, tribe and as a planet. Then we created a healing mask for Brenda as she lay down on a long table holding her sacred object on her chest. A Native medicine woman (one of the International Council of 13 Indigenous Grandmothers) blessed the space and prepared her face; I applied a plaster cast to her face leaving the eyes uncovered. While the mask was drying, the other participants circled around the table holding their sacred objects listening to the drumming and singing of Sundance songs. The participants danced slowly around the table so that each one could look directly in Brenda’s eyes as they touched and whispered to her, filled her mask with the healing power of their love and investment in her continued health.

This is how Brenda described it…I closed my eyes as the mask was being made. The water from the plaster strips dripped into my eyes ears and neck and back of my head. I can still feel the healing waters on my skin I thought about the rigorous treatment over the past year and how I learned about a will to live through the toughest time of my life. The entire year was transforming from being sick to being healed, and this mask represented all that I was about to become.

When the mask was done and the drumming and singing started, I saw the entire group dancing around me; I saw their sacred objects, and felt their hearts through their eyes and touch. They held my hand, touched my feet and said prayers over my head. I was able to see deeply and feel the healing. People leaned over the table to look at me through my mask with the most loving eyes I have ever seen. I could see and be seen like never before. These objects danced, people danced and I completely felt the love my heart was touched so deeply as I thought to myself “they are all doing this for me”. This is the love that I felt during my treatment and it is a love that could only come from the Great Spirit. It is the true essence of healing.

After the mask dried the group decorated it with their own hair, beads, drawings, stones and feathers. Brenda said, “I can still hear the beautiful voices and feel the gentle healing touch I can see the people and sacred objects dancing around me and I feel so alive. I still don’t know my story will give the experience the power that it deserves, but I do know that I am truly blessed”

Where does an old storyteller go to find an audience that will gather around a fireplace and listen to his stories? In this generation the only fireplace people gather around to gaze and listen is the computer/online/ on the web. So I decided to publish my new book Kindling Spirit: Healing From Within, on Reality Sandwich, where it would be read by an internet community of 100,000 readers who share a common passion about how to sustain themselves (and the planet) in a civil society.

I also decided it was time to expand my platform by getting into the social networking world of Facebook. A year ago I had 50 friends, and I knew all of them personally. I decided to send a Facebook friend invitation to their friends, figuring the people they liked would be people I’d also have a connection with. I invited 10 people a day

and within six months I had 1,000 friends. Most people accepted invitation, without any personal note, a few wrote back asking “do I know you?” and I ignored them. Once I got this detailed note, “why are you friending me? I know we have a number of people in common, but I don’t believe I know you. If you have some reason for contacting me, feel free to send that message, but please don’t continue sending empty friend requests”.

I wrote back “lighten up, trust the serendipity of the universe, it might allow for new awakening. He wrote back “thanks for the advice and the actual message. As much as I’d like the universe to awaken me, I’m afraid that Facebook friend requests are not going to do the trick”.

And so it continued, I told him I understood the limitations of this medium and shared his reluctance about engaging in its superficialities, but I’d also discovered the magic of serendipity. The right people coming together at the right time, maybe there is something we need to learn from each other.

I forwarded the link to the first chapter of my book which had just appeared on Reality Sandwich (www.realitysandwich.com/kindling_spirit_part+1), and asked that if he found anything in what I wrote that connected us in this moment in time to let me know.

Indeed our paths crossed at a propitious moment, each of us telling a story the other needed to hear. So this stranger who insisted that if I wanted to be his friend I needed to be clear as to why; got me to look at what I wanted in a Facebook friend. Now, if I get a friend request without a personal note, I have the courage to ask why they are seeking me out.

I have made connections around these new fireplaces that inspire me and love to tell the stories; but my grandchildren are absolutely ecstatic because then they don’t have to bear the burden of my endless lip flapping.

I am upstairs in the library, my private sanctuary, playing mini-basketball with my 16-year-old grandson. The competition is intense, because he likes nothing better than to beat the old man. In the middle of the chatter and laughter, my office phone rings. I don’t answer it, and he looks at me and asks “are you going to pick that up?” I tell him no, there is no place else I’d rather be.

I asked him if he’d answer his cell phone if it rang, and he acknowledged that he’d at least look at it and then make a decision. It didn’t take long before my lips were flapping double-time…even if it’s just for a moment it will take you someplace other than where you are right now…keep doing that you’ll never see what’s right in front of you and yada, yada, yada, until he finally said, “Papa, do you ever shut up? Save the stories for the campfire.”

This is my problem; nobody listens to stories around campfires much anymore.  It has become clear to this old storyteller that I have got to find a new fireplace if I want to get heard. So I’ve decided to publish my next book, Kindling Spirit: Healing from Within on RealitySandwich.com (RS). RS is the new sacred circle, an online community of 100,000 kindred spirits who share a mythology about how we sustain ourselves (and the planet) in a civil society.

I’m going to publish a new chapter on the fourth Tuesday of every month (www.realitysandwich.com/kindling_spirit_part+1); these are personal stories about ordinary triumphs, tragedies, miracles, indigenous wisdom, radical self-acceptance, and shamanic healing. During the time between chapters, it is my hope that if there is something in my story that touches you that you’ll take some time to tell me your stories; sharing our stories helps us make sense of our lives.

Check it out, it’s free, and if you’re interested in going beyond the medium of the webpages and want a more personal experience; think about joining our Kindling Spirit Telecircles. Let’s gather around this virtual fireplace and respectfully come together to listen to each others stories, because this is how we sustain soul in everyday life.

Join me on the healing journey, and let’s eat this sandwich together. I say this, For All My Relations, Mi Takuye Oyacin.

P.S. Still a little room in the Creating Healing Ceremonies workshop in Phoenix, May 21-23 (www.HealingDoc.com)

I addressed the National Association of Children’s Hospitals just when President Obama’s healthcare bill was signed into law. I began by saying it didn’t matter whether it was the government or private insurers paying the bill because the current system was dysfunctional and would bankrupt us.

The current interventional model, that requires people to get sick and diagnosed before they get treated (and doctors get paid), must change to a model based on prevention.

We are looking at epidemic obesity among children in this country, and it will result in an enormous increase of early onset diabetes. This increase will be more pronounced among African-American children who may be predisposed to it, and especially the poor whose diets are loaded with cheap processed foods because supermarkets offering healthier choices don’t want to come into the neighborhood.

We will see an epidemic rise in mental disorders because the new psychiatric diagnostic manual (DSM V) now defines unacceptable behaviors as diseases. The astounding rise in the diagnosis of ADD/ADHD over the last decade, we will now be mirrored by new “diseases” like eating too much (binge eating disorder), laughing or crying too much (involuntary emotional expressive disorder). The treatment of which, will be expensive drugs whose long-term effects on children are unknown.

Here’s a paradigm shifting health prevention model that can be immediately implemented:

1. If your kids are acting up, unfocused, undisciplined, and unresponsive, learn how to set limits and enforce them. Teach your children that there are consequences to their actions; if you don’t pick up the dog poo in the yard (all of it) then you’re not going out to play; if you continue to act irresponsibly your cell phone’s gone, etc. Limit setting is an ego-corrective experience; create the boundaries and then stick to them.

2. Stop bullshitting your children; not everything they do is exceptional, praiseworthy, incredibly wonderful, and deserving over-the-top accolades and rewards, because in the real world the “little princess” or the “big guy” is going to have to really perform.

3. Restore the dinner meal to a family ritual; sit down together, eat healthy food, talk to each other realistically about what’s important in your life, your values, your dreams.

And here’s a shift for children’s hospitals:

1. Cafeterias have got to stop serving cheeseburgers and waffle fries, and be an example of nutritional health.

2. Get into the community; provide healthcare education in schools, community centers, churches, barbershops, and wherever people gather. .

3. Talk to children in their language…get on Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, and build a network that teaches them how to become the principal agents in maintaining their health.

4. Invite students into your facilities to see what you do and use the facility as a meeting place for education and recreation.

There is so much poo around (lots of it of our own creation), let’s stop wallowing in it and pick it up before it drowns us.

P.S. Register for Creating Healing Ceremonies workshop May 21-23, 2010 while early discount rates still apply. (www.healingdoc.com)