Because of something Tanja said in the early days, combined with this odd epiphany I had a week ago when I was weaving through that odd corner of South East on my way to Woodcrafters, we’ve been thinking a bit about Jill Bolte Taylor, the neurobiologist whose stroke and recovery changed the way she thought about the brain, the body and the universe.

Her TED talk made the rounds, back in the day, and it was provocative enough that her book had to be read–it’s an amazing story of a terrible event and a marvelous, difficult, unlikely recovery. But one thing in particular stood out.

Dr. Taylor said that, as the hemorrhage took the leftern most part of her brain off line, the simple fact that we are all connected to everything became a reality she could experience in the moment.

It wasn’t that she discovered the connection. She seemed to be saying that she, as a scientist, like all her scientist buddies, simply accepted that connection as a fact. Like gravity. Subject to review, should other data arise, but settled for the time being. It was her sudden ability to experience the connection that was so, uhm, mind-blowing.

“Our right brain doesn’t see the artificial division of individual bodies that the left brain places on us. We’re actually all energy. Our bodies are just energy compacted into a dense form.

We are all this enormousness that gets squeezed inside these tiny little bodies and we think this little, tiny body is what we are. But it’s really just the tool we use to do stuff in this physical world.

The left parietal region of the brain, in what’s called the orientation association area, holds a holographic image of your body so that you know where you begin and where you end. When those cells went offline after the stroke, I no longer had that perspective. I felt as big as the universe! My body was attached to me, but I didn’t experience it as my essence. Instead, I was the collective whole, connected to everyone and everything—I was completely fluid.”

That’s cool. She went on to say:

“True science has to accept all that is. It can’t say, “Those mysterious things we don’t understand don’t exist.” That’s bad science, denying something instead of exploring it.”

So today, because I was quite busy making the future secure for recently retired tennis players, Tanja had to get herself downtown for her first acupuncture appointment. It was a total success in that Tanja was examined, her situation discussed in detail, she was made extremely comfortable and then many, many needles were applied to her body and she was left to repose in a warm room where she promptly fell asleep.

Who knows what dreams she had, what spirit was unleashed within her, by all that careful needling, all those tiny barbs and daggers?

She awoke refreshed and was sent home with just two needles left, doing their work, with instructions to remove them at bedtime. I was called into service for this job–there were written instructions that indicated that one should pull the needle in the direction it is pointing.

“Really in the opposite direction from where it’s pointing,” I said.

“Yes,” Tanja said, in a tone that suggested it was not as amusing to her as it was to others.

I have to say, the needle was in quite a bit further than I had expected. Approximately five times further, I would say. Nor did it come out painlessly.

“Ow,” said Tanja.

“I pulled in the proper direction, I swear.”

The second one was les surprising and less painful.

More sessions are to follow. Once a skeptic, I am encouraged by the attitude of Dr. Taylor, by the belief I share with her that there are things we don’t understand, and by the fact that insurance covers the visits–for all my lack of faith in that industry, they do seem to be expert at finding reasons to deny treatments, so their acceptance is practically scientific proof of efficacy.

Results will not be immediate, of course. That said, Tanja has gone to bed in brighter spirits than we have seen in days. Coincidence is not causality, but surely it’s right next door to it:)