The Ties that Bind and the Weight of Connection

Traevelling 30,000 feet above the ground on my way back to Chicago, it’s hard not to think about distance and space. How people in the same room can still feel worlds apart while others can be physically separated by hundreds of miles and still be intimately connected. Traditional modes of measurement fail when it comes to matters of the heart. I feel the push and pull of these forces currently at play within me as I sit on a plane, wanting to distract myself with some mindless movie or loud music or just close my eyes and sleep. The plane, at its current altitude, disconnects my phone from the pages, texts and alerts waiting on the ground, freeing me for a short while from their intrusion.

To be intertwined with someone else. To belong to something greater than yourself. A family or community? To have purpose beyond ourselves. To give and receive. To be connected. These thoughts lead my brain back to chemistry and physics and learning of forces and attraction between molecules. I recall the weaker ionic bonds, able to be disrupted by water alone.  I remember organic chemistry and the tight sharing of electrons between carbon atoms, and its strong covalent connection. I think of the ultimate overwhelming gravitational force of a black hole from which nothing can escape.

In the past, those descriptions were just notes jotted down on paper. Simple lines to memorize to later regurgitate verbatim on a test or quiz. At the time, I did not have the capacity to truly understand those ideas. Now I find deeper meaning in these concepts. The invisible attraction exerted by gravitational forces and tight bonds cause visible and tangible effects. We learn of the “potential” within these bonds, to hold and store power and energy which I have felt in the pounding of my heart and in the heat of my salty tears. The paradox being that the strength within the bonds of connection that help withstand stress and strain can also cause disruption and damage.

How then to find equipoise and balance? Where this connectedness provides stability and strength to move forward, instead of collapsing under its own weight.

It is in this space that I am floating at the moment. Physically, 30,000 feet above the earth, yet right next to Madison in Southern Oregon and Maya back home in Northbrook. Can they feel me with them right now? Do they know how much they are in my thoughts? Do they feel the same tug on their hearts and in their core? And if so, does it feel safe and warm and a source of comfort and confidence? Or is it heavy and weighty and overwhelming and constricting?

The change of pressure on my ears signals the beginning of the plane’s descent back to earth. The thirty minutes or so left on this flight leaves nowhere near enough time to climb out of this rabbit hole in which I find myself.  But this is why I chose to go part-time. To find time and space to wrap my mind around these questions. It was too infrequent and rare to have the emotional energy and capacity to sit with and work through these issues

The plane lands and Becky and I disembark, still a bit disoriented with my ears plugged and cumulative fatigue of the weekend. I find myself adjusting to the changing forces of connection, now that I am two thousand miles closer to my daughter, but that much farther from my son.  But I sense this is a new theme in my life. Navigating time and space with those you love and balancing the benefit of the power of connection with the weight of its strength. And in this moment, these invisible forces couldn’t be more tangible,  as my heart is pulled in all sorts of directions.


A Family Reunion in Seattle and Newton’s Law of Attraction

Doc, I don’t see why I need all these meds. Can’t I stop them? Any of them?”

I hear this often from my patients. Sometimes they are right. They are on too many meds and don’t need them all. But sometimes it takes removing a medication for a period of time in order to truly appreciate its benefits.

It’s a crisp morning in Seattle. The sun is trying to break through the scattered clouds and there are waning remnants of fog coming off the harbor. I walk the three blocks to Pike’s Place and the public market, which is half empty as the fishmongers are making their way in. The rest of my family is still asleep, having all slept under the same roof for the first time in months. Months. That is what’s on my mind as I walk this morning. Thinking about plane rides, hugs, siblings and reunions.

I grab a few essentials for my sleeping crew: gluten free breakfast food for my daughter, a razor for my son, my own Venti Americano, Coke Zero for Becky, milk and cereal. I make my way back to our rental unit, buzzing for the start of our day. Our family of four. Four individual orbits that have come together here in the Pacific Northwest for a precious forty-eight hours.

We take the Link Light Rail across the city away from the harbor and skyscrapers, and make our way to the University of Washington and its traditional campus architecture. It is truly a picture-perfect fall day for a college tour. As I walk with Maya, I try to picture her among the students walking through the quad, the red square, and the union. Becky and Madison head in a different direction to enjoy some time together.

While Maya is occupied listening to our tour guide, my mind is free to wander. The day is truly magnificent. A perfect mix of cool temperatures, warm sun, a light breeze and a backdrop of trees with leaves full of fall colors. Discrete patches of thick white clouds move quickly across the sky. Not as static shapes, but dynamically altering their form as they twist and tumble, with a three-dimensional complexity I find fascinating. On the surface so simple, but with depth and layers that are mesmerizing. Their future as unpredictable as Madison and Maya’s.

We all meet back outside the Union. There is silly chatter, pictures and piggy-back rides. We joke and tease and smile. Yesterday’s travel to get here, and tomorrow’s departure, forgotten for the moment. There is a levity surrounding all of us, with no expectation or agenda other than simply enjoying each other’s company. The four of us are not just in close physical proximity to each other. The rhythms of our interactions are in sync in a way that has been missing for quite a while. Our individual orbits, for now, have become one.

Newton’s law of universal gravitation states that a particle attracts every other particle in the universe. In high school physics, I struggled with this concept, that the person ten feet away was exerting a gravitational force on me. But now I do appreciate the pull of my family’s orbits. A few months ago, the intensity and depth of our connection was present but not felt. Similar to my patients who appreciate the impact of their medicine  only in its absence, I am now more aware of the forces that bind and connect my family. And for the moment my world is perfect.