Chapter 6
Ky disliked the feeling of the cold, industrial tile under his paws. He could understand why some dogs refused to walk on it. Also, this waiting room smelled like human suffering. He was glad when Mimi reappeared from having her blood drawn and they could be finished with the biweekly neurologist appointment. Mimi exited the neurologist’s office with Ky right behind her and made a beeline for the car where Dennis stood basking in the LA sun, waiting to open the car door.
“Straight to Terra’s?” asked Dennis. “I believe you have a one o’clock?”
“Yes,” said Mimi. She was grateful to be headed straight to her herbalist. Her neurology appointment had been discouraging, and she felt as if she needed an influx of positive energy. She saw Ky’s leash lying on the seat and realized that she had forgotten it. Dennis didn’t seem to notice.
“Leash?” she whispered to Ky as they rolled onto the freeway.
He inclined his head toward her. He had forgotten too. When he was last on Earth, leashes were uncommon. Training with a falconer in seventeenth-century Holland, he had certainly never had one. That was the last time he had spent many days as a dog in the presence of people. But he didn’t dislike the leash. With a leash on, it was easy to tell where your person was. She attached it, and let it drop to the seat between them.
Mimi was looking forward to her appointment with Terra, even though she realized that she hadn’t done much of her homework. Terra was big on homework. She wasn’t interested in patients who were looking for a miracle cure. Terra had asked her to start a meditation practice, a yoga practice, and to take a bunch of herbs. All Mimi had done was take the herbs. But, Mimi considered, it’s not every day that you find out your dog is really a magical spy. She had been justifiably distracted. She decided to try a tactic that had worked for her in high school.
“Dennis, would you help me with my homework?” Mimi asked, leaning forward and resting her chin on the back of the passenger seat.
“Miss?”
“You’re a spiritual guy, right?”
“Sure,” said Dennis cautiously.
“Last time I saw Terra I asked her a question, and she told me to meditate on a story,” said Mimi. “I asked her if she thought everything happens for a reason. And she said that there’s a famous story in Buddhism where a boy goes looking for his ox that had run away. After he’s been searching for a while, a fog settles on the countryside and both the boy and the ox disappear into the fog. Then the boy finds the ox and rides him home.”
“I have heard that story,” said Dennis. “It is a famous Zen parable. There are many different versions of it and some beautiful art, ink drawings usually, that illustrate it.”
“I know. I Googled it,” said Mimi.
“What does the internet say about it?” asked Dennis. He sounded genuinely interested, not just polite, for the first time since Mimi had met him.
“It says the mind is an ox because it’s stubborn and hard to control and we all have trouble mastering our thoughts. I couldn’t find the fog version. The internet has the ox and the boy disappearing into the full moon.”
“Hmm.” Dennis made a noncommittal sound that made Mimi think that Dennis might know more about this than Google.
“And the internet has the beautiful drawings, including one of an empty circle.”
“Yes,” said Dennis. “That can be considered several ways, but often as when the boy realizes that there is no separate self. Everything is one, or everything is nothing.”
“That just seems like a lot of words,” said Mimi. “I’m not sure how knowing that everything is nothing helps with anything.”
“It doesn’t help to know it. It helps to experience it. That’s why it’s a parable and not a lecture. If I just say to you, ‘Mimi, everything is nothing, there’s no separate self,’ that has no meaning to you. But if I say the boy and the ox disappear into the fog….”
“Then I’m equally confused, but in a more fun way?”
“Maybe.” Dennis smiled.
“So, if you know the story, what does it have to do with my question? And does everything happen for a reason?” asked Mimi.
The car turned out of the sun, and Dennis put his visor up.
“Mimi, this Terra is a spiritual teacher, right?” asked Dennis.
“Yes, well, for me she’s an herbalist, but I think she has studied almost everything. She even has a PhD in something. I can’t remember what.”
“So maybe the story isn’t about your question.”
“It was what she said when I asked the question.”
“Maybe it’s a response to asking a question at all.”
“What?”
“You asked her a spiritual question, your first. This story, maybe it’s just the first story, the first answer to any question. It’s not so much an answer as it is a trailhead. She’s saying, ‘Start here. This is where the answer begins.’”
Mimi took a moment to wonder why she’d never really talked to Dennis before. “I really wanted an answer to my question,” she sighed.
“Have you found the ox?” Dennis’ voice was deadpan but with the barest hint of teasing.
“Oh, honestly, I think I am the ox,” laughed Mimi. “But I don’t want to become enlightened. I want to get better.”
“I want you to get better too, miss,” said Dennis kindly.
They escaped quickly from the freeway traffic into a neighborhood of mixed shops and residences and pulled up to a low building shaded by a banana palm and a lemon tree. Plants, familiar and unfamiliar, were growing every which way around the windowsills and the door.
Terra was outside when they arrived, her graying hair tied up in a cheap bandana. She put down a watering can and smiled broadly as she saw the car approach. Mimi felt herself relax. She jumped out of the car with Ky.
“This is the dog!” exclaimed Terra happily. “Here he is, how handsome!” Mimi flushed red as though she had been caught out on a date.
“Yes, he’s…he’s really good at what he does.”
“I’ve been thinking about you,” said Terra. “I have a couple of ideas for things we can try. Fewer night terrors since our last visit, I hope?”
Mimi had to laugh. “Yes, the nights have been very different since our last visit.” Then she realized something that she hadn’t thought about. “Actually, I haven’t had any night terrors since I got Ky.”
“Wow! That’s good news. I’m so glad. He’s a beautiful dog. He’s different looking.”
“He is different from other dogs.”
“Is he a specific breed? I’m not very familiar with dog breeds.”
Mimi looked at Ky as though expecting him to answer the question. She caught the glimmer of a smile in the corner of his eye.
“I don’t know,” Mimi answered. “I should know; I mean, I am someone who cares about brands and brand loyalty!” She laughed. “I can’t believe that I’m telling you I really don’t know. I’ll ask…the trainers at the Seizure Dog Center.”
Terra smiled her big, supportive smile. “I’m so excited to have him here. I’ve had patients with emotional support dogs before, but never a seizure alert dog. What a special skill.” She turned toward Ky. “You have such a special skill, Ky. Thanks for sharing it.”
Ky just wagged his tail and returned Terra’s green-eyed gaze. For a moment it looked to Mimi as if Terra suspected the truth.
“C’mon in,” said Terra.
Mimi stepped across the threshold to the lobby of Terra’s small office. Her windows were all stained glass, for privacy, she said, but they gave the place the look of a tiny cathedral. Long oak tables were spread out for mixing teas and powders. It smelled citrusy today.
“We’ve been putting cloves, ginger, and dried orange peel into tea bags,” explained Terra as though she could read Mimi’s mind. “I’ve been studying with a Chinese medicine doctor, and I’ve been working on teas that help regulate body heat.”
“For your reptile patients?” Mi
mi quipped.
Terra laughed. “A lot of people feel cold all the time. Unless you have an imbalance or weight deficit, there’s no reason to feel cold if you live in LA.”
“I have a weight deficit and I don’t feel cold,” said Mimi.
“You have a very sturdy constitution,” said Terra. The way she said it put a little spring in Mimi’s step.
A cheerful girl sat behind the reception desk and called out, “Hi, Mimi!” as she and Terra walked back to Terra’s office. Ky followed behind them and sat at Mimi’s feet beneath the high-backed consulting chair.
Terra settled in to her chair and gave Mimi her full attention. “So, how are you?”
It was such a loaded question that Mimi paused for a moment, realizing she had no idea.
“I just came from a neurology appointment.”
“And?”
“We’ve kind of given up. I can’t tolerate most of the anti-seizure meds, and they don’t work anyway.”
Terra made a sympathetic noise in her throat. “How do you feel about that?”
“Depressed. But I can’t say ‘depressed’ in the neurologist’s office because they start breaking out the prescription pad again.”
Terra laughed softly. “You’re a great patient, Mimi. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re not. You’re resilient, you’re smart, you can reflect on yourself, you genuinely consider your treatment.”
“I don’t know. The thought of having a seizure makes me want to hide under the bed, except that I’m the one having the seizure even if I’m under the bed. Sometimes I feel like I have PTSD.”
“You might.”
“But I keep getting blown up. Then afterward I’m fine, kind of. I’m still not used to them, I guess. I mean, they’re very frequent. You’d think I’d just feel like, ‘Ho hum, another seizure.’”
“I think it takes a long time to get to the stage where you think ‘Ho hum, another seizure.’ Losing consciousness is always scary, even if you’re not hurt afterward.”
“It’s scary and it’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing. But I don’t want to take anti-depressants or anti-anxiety drugs because I want to feel how I feel. If I felt better, I’d want to notice. I want to notice the day that I’m not afraid anymore. And if it ever happens, I want to notice the moment when I’m not embarrassed anymore. I think it’s coming. Or, at least, I think it’s possible. Do you think that’s stupid?”
“No, I don’t think anything’s stupid, particularly your commitment to self-awareness.” Terra paused for a moment. “But be available to changing your mind if you need to. We want the best for you, and that can be a combination of approaches. People have very charged feelings about anti-depressants, and the influence of all those cultural feelings can make it hard to make a good decision.”
“I know. But for now I’m not doing it. Also, I’m really vain. I know I don’t have my weight under control, but I want to gain about fifteen pounds: I don’t want to gain a hundred pounds.”
“Okay, but please do work a little harder on the fifteen.”
“I will,” said Mimi. “Ky loves to eat. I think he’ll be a good influence.”
Ky turned his back toward her and studiously scratched his ear.
“Good.” Terra looked at her thoughtfully. “No thoughts of suicide?”
“No.”
“How’s your yoga and meditation practice?”
“Um, it was going badly, and now it’s not happening at all.”
Terra laughed. “Should we try to pick something else? There’s some good evidence for using yoga for seizures, but maybe tai chi would be equal. I can look it up. We should try to pick something that you’ll actually do. It won’t help you any if the thing works, and you won’t do it.”
“Give me another couple of weeks with yoga and meditation. I’ve just been, well, you know I haven’t been busy, but maybe I’ve been distracted. I thought about the ox and the boy.”
“Oh, you did?” Terra looked pleased.
“Well, briefly. I Googled it and then I asked Dennis about it in the car on the way here. I’m the ox, right?”
Terra laughed. “You’re lost?”
“I am. I have no idea what the story has to do with my question.”
Terra sighed. “Your question was, ‘Does everything happen for a reason?’”
“Yes.”
“Is life more interesting if it does? Better? Worse?” Terra asked.
“It would be comforting if it did.”
“Why?”
“Because if it doesn’t, then everything you do could cause a disaster. Like, if I die in a car wreck on the way home. If everything happens for a reason, then it would have happened anyway, but if it doesn’t, then it’s the decisions I make that did it. I should never have come here.”
“So is the boy happy to have found the ox? Or does he just think it was inevitable. ‘Ho hum, here’s my ox.’” Terra’s question was playful.
“So bad things happen for a reason and are inevitable, but good things we have to work for? So therefore we should be happy but never sad? Is the answer really contained in the story?” Mimi asked. “Am I your dumbest client? Does everyone else understand this story?”
“Not all my clients get stories. I’m an herbalist, you know. But you asked me a big question. It requires a complicated answer.”
“Dennis said the story is a trailhead.”
“Nice image!” said Terra, “How old is Dennis? Is he single?”
Mimi laughed. “I can find out. So is it the first of many stories?”
“Only if you want them.”
“I don’t know if I want them. But I want my question answered.”
Terra gave her a piercing look. “You may want it answered, or you may be testing me. I know it’s not the deepest question of your heart.”
The room felt suddenly quiet and close. A veil of seriousness dropped over their conversation.
“No?” replied Mimi hesitantly.
“No,” said Terra. “But that’s okay, you don’t have to ask me that question if you don’t want to.”
Mimi was puzzled. What did Terra think was her deepest question? She didn’t respond right away. Then she gave a soft, “Oh.” She averted her gaze from Terra’s sharp eyes. “I know what you mean. I know what the real question is.”
Terra nodded a slow, supportive nod.
“It’s- will I ever get better?”
Terra nodded again.
“…and, am I being punished, is my illness a punishment,” Mimi finished flatly.
“Yes, those are your questions.”
“I know the punishment one is stupid.” Mimi knit her hands together in embarrassment. “I mean, if illness were a punishment, then good people would never get sick, and that’s not true. But I can’t help thinking about it anyway.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s natural. It’s cultural. We live in a world that seeks to punish wrongdoing. We were all punished as children, so when we feel hurt we assume we’re being punished. It would be a logical answer to the question why. It may even be a comfortable answer. In many ways we’re more afraid to live in a world with no why than we are of being punished. But we know that with illness it doesn’t make sense because, as you pointed out, good people get sick. Your questions are centuries old. People with and without illnesses like yours have been consumed by those questions: Why me? Did I do something to create this? Can I undo it? And what will happen next?”
“Don’t tell me yet what will happen next, if I’m going to get better, if you know,” said Mimi. “I couldn’t bear to hear no.”
“I don’t know Mimi, how could I? I’m not a fortune teller,” Terra said gently. “Not even your doctors know.”
Mimi smiled a weak smile. “Well, I guess I’ll just go looking for my ox, then.”
Terra’s round face was full of sympathy.
“But I have a question about the ox, too,” said Mimi.
“What is it?”
“O
nce I’ve found it, what will I want if I take that road? Will I still want to get better? I’m afraid to stop wanting….”
“I don’t know,” said Terra. “I’m still looking for the ox.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Mimi changed the subject.
“I’m going to start going out again, a little, like, socially,” said Mimi.
“Great! Is that because of the dog?”
“Yes,” Mimi said. It was true, after all.
“That’s remarkable. I’m proud of you. But you’re not going to tell anyone about your illness?”
“No, I’m going to…well, I guess I’ll pretend he’s a pet.”
“What do you need from me?”
“I don’t know, maybe just your approval.”
“You have it. I’m also going to add some more things to your powder specifically for the nerve pain. I’ve been doing some research. What else is there?”
“If I hadn’t just given you my anti-anti-anxiety speech, I would ask for some more of what you gave me last time for night terrors.”
“The lemon balm?”
“Yes.”
“It’s so mild. I’m glad it works well for you. I’ll give you some of the pills, and if you want, I’ll also give you some of the source. How good are you at keeping plants alive?”
“Ummm.”
“Just try it. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Even if you’re taking the pills, it’s nice to have the plant nearby. It sort of reminds the pills of their roots. Pun intended!” Terra gave a gleeful smile.
Mimi thought about all the houseplants that she and Paloma had killed, houseplants and goldfish. Of course, they had really wanted a dog. “Terra, just out of curiosity, what would you think about someone if they’re addicted to peppermints?”
“Are you?”
“No, my sister’s medical assistant is. I’m just curious.”
“Well peppermints are candies, so that might be what it is. But if it’s really the mint in peppermint that she wants? Mint is good for so many things.” Terra touched her index fingers absentmindedly to her thumbs. It was her thinking gesture. “I think the most obvious thing about peppermint is that it’s life affirming. If you need to believe that we’re here for a purpose, that there’s a reason to get up in the morning, that the world is a good place, peppermint is helpful. I mean, think about it. It’s one of the few things that almost everyone is willing to put in their mouth every night in toothpaste. We put it in candy canes in the middle of winter when we all need an emotional boost.” Terra laughed. She met Mimi’s eyes, and the sides of her face crinkled up with joy.
“What?” asked Mimi.
“It’s also good for if you need courage; for example, if you have a secret.”
Mimi couldn’t help it; her eyes flitted to Ky, who was lying on the floor peacefully, head stretched out on the carpet.