I am becoming increasingly convinced and irrefutably sold on
the importance of language.
And even if I just used the word “irrefutably” wrong, who
cares? It sounds cool when the first
sentence is about language. I needed a
big word.
What I mean by that is not the particular language that we
speak, but the language we use with ourselves.
And yes, in case you are wondering if this is going to be another
Oprah-like blog entry, brace yourself for something AHHHH-MAAAAAA-ZIIIIIING!
I am a professor in a doctorate physical therapy program. It is my honor to teach one of my favorite
topics in the whole world, orthopedics. Another name for the class: Evaluation and Treatment of the
Musculoskeletal System. In real person
terms that means I teach about muscles and bones, and what to do with them when
they say “ouch.”
On day one, I start with an activity that has nothing to do
with muscles and bones, but also everything to do with muscles and bones. Stay with me…
On that day I find the biggest muscle bound beau I can find
in the class. In PT school, there is
usually one guy or gal that looks like they lift Volkswagen's for fun on the
weekends. I’m happy that my fitness capabilities
give me the option to run away from them before being crushed or tossed about like a doll.
I ask that student to stand in front of the class and hold
their arm out. They are given the
following information and instructions: “I am going to attempt to push your arm
down several times. I am asking you to
not let me win at all and to use all your strength to keep your arm lifted as
it is now. No matter what, do not let me
win. Do you think you can do that?”
At this point, the class is interested to the point of visible salivation. Look at how scrawny Dr. Woodard’s arms
are. This is going to be EPIC! I’m convinced they are all planning my
violent demise but just won’t admit to it.
This gives them a glimmer of joy, as surely the result of this contest
will be a humiliating defeat for the guy grading their exams.
I now tell the student with his arm raised, “as we do this
first test, I want you to think very clear thoughts. Those thoughts need to be: ‘I am strong. There is now way my arm is going to
drop. My muscles are huge and powerful. I am a badass and can do anything.”
Without fail, I can hang from this outstretched arm, jump up
and down on it, bite it, and absolutely not move the thing.
I then tell the student, “as we do this second test, I want
you to think very clear thoughts again, but this time those thoughts need to
be: ‘I am weak. Even though I am going
to try to hold my arm up, I will fail.
My strength is not enough to hold up to this challenge.” I remind them they are not supposed to let me
win and push their arm down, but to think those negative thoughts.
Without fail, I can break their position using 2 fingers.
Naturally, the class is devastated that I was not humiliated. Vultures…
Did this super muscly weight-lifting student just get less
strong? Did his muscle atrophy and
shrink? Why did he get weaker, just by
thinking weak thoughts?
The answer: our thoughts create more of a reality in our
lives than another other force conceivable.
That is true for this students shoulder and arm muscles; it
is also true for every damn thing we do from moment to moment. It is that simple.
My question to you, and something I’d love to actually hear
back about: what thoughts are you thinking that are making you weak?
“I’m too fat. I hate
my life. The people at work are out to
get me. My boss is a douche and is
trying to make me miserable. I’ll be
single forever. I’ll never pay off my
debt. This race/run is going to be slow
and painful. I won’t qualify for Kona
today. That sushi last night gave me
salmonella, or at least herpes.”
You say those things, you are those things.
Why are we so nasty?
Not to each other, but to ourselves?
Sports psychologists have known this since sports were
invented. When you have positive
psychology, you perform better in sports.
Check out this link from the American Psychological Association: http://www.apa.org/helpcenter/sport-psychologists.aspx
So, how does this work?
The answer is clear. It’s pixie
dust…
The actual answer might be more complicated than that, but that
chat could go on for chapters and chapters, and frankly, I should be working
instead of writing this blog. Ain’t got
no time for that.
The simple answer: your body is under the control of your brain
and nervous system. Obviously for simple
things like wriggling your toes, but also for the amount of force production and efficiency
of movement. The strength of a muscle contraction is directly controlled by how many neuromuscular junctions are firing per unit area of muscle and dumping excitatory chemicals into each other. The more "happy juice" your brain squirts into a muscle, the stronger it will contract. The happier your thoughts, the more "happy juice" you've got at your disposal. See, biochemistry is actually not all that hard.
You try to run a race saying internally that you suck the
whole time, guess what? You are going to
suck. You try being the student at the
front of the class told to hold up their arm while thinking you are too weak to
do so, your arm will fall.
You try being a person living a happy and fulfilling life,
but all the while repeating to yourself how miserable you are and how there is
no hope, misery and hopelessness will continue.
This isn’t my opinion, it’s just a truth.
I challenge each of you readers to do the following. Every day, physically write down 3 quick
things you are grateful for in your life, and then one short paragraph about
something happening in the last 24 hours that made you happy. If it takes more than 3-4 minutes, you are
trying too hard.
Here is mine from today:
Grateful for: 1) my
adorable dogs who slobber on my shoes 2) my career that I freakin’ love 3)
people who take the time to read my blog
Happy moment in last 24 hours: today I made my students
laugh. During the course of an intense
lecture with really heavy material, I got them to laugh at me or something I
said. I was able to share a sliver of
knowledge to make them better healers someday, but I did so in a way that they
were able to smile. What a gift is that
for me to have access to? And even
better, I got to laugh right with them.
They might have been miserable all day, but in those moments, we were all
laughing. We were happy together. Because of their presence, I had joy. And perhaps even momentarily, my presence
brought joy back to them in kind.
That’s it.
There is a growing body of literature and science on this
stuff. The science of happiness and
positivity. You want to change your
life, read this book: The Slight Edge by Jeff Olson http://www.amazon.com/The-Slight-Edge-Disciplines-Happiness/dp/1626340463
Go ahead, tell me I’m a hippie and smoked too much dope in
college and have clearly shorted out my brain.
Tell me all this is crap and that thinking happy thoughts won’t make
your life better. Tell me about how
miserable you are and there is no hope.
Just don’t be upset that after you’re done telling me that,
I smile at you so genuinely and purely that you are convinced I am mentally
compromised.
I am happy. My life
is unbelievably amazing. I have
everything.
Those things are true because I, you guessed it, tell myself
they are true every damn day. I do so without pause and without wavering conviction. Why do I believe in it so much: because telling myself these things has manifested exactly what was promised: happiness, joy, contentment.
I had a hard enough life in year's past. I am grateful for those times as I learned the power of sadness and depression. But I am more grateful to be what I am now: the thoughts in my head and absolutely nothing else.
Thank you for reading...
