This weekend I was lucky enough to spend time in beautiful Colorado with some amazing people. These are friends from my Emergency Medicine residency program at Denver Health twenty years ago. We’ve stayed close over the years and have become closer with time. We live across the country and only get to connect occasionally, and with COVID, it’s been a while for some of us.
We spent the weekend rapidly babbling to fill each other in on the stories of our lives, from our jobs in the ED (including navigating the chaos of COVID) and Lifestyle Medicine world to our families, our significant loss of loved ones this year, health, finances, and the world’s problems. Yep, we covered it all, big and small. As my eloquent friend said, “it was a frantic purge of the thoughts in our heads and a fire-sale for the feelings in our hearts.”
We cheered for the players in World Cup soccer, downed green smoothies together, explored a remote Colorado trail, marveled at a gang of elk, and breathed deeply, observing the night sky with the gorgeous sunset.
We described the stressors of being emergency physicians, the responsibility of caring for others, the toll it takes on our own bodies and minds, and our mental health through it all. Is it sustainable, or is burnout inevitable for all but the heartiest among us? As emergency physicians, how do we cope with the unexpected and traumatic loss of life, chronic illness, and emotional breakdowns so often observed in our daily practice?
We revealed health scares and existential crises. We identify as emergency physicians, so what happens when we lose this and we no longer know who we are or what our purpose is? How do we cope? How do we recover, both health and identity, and how to rebuild?
We talked of the loss of loved ones, from parents to best friends and family members. The loss that is inevitable as human beings, expected and yet so unexpected, life-changing, and heart-wrenching. Helping each other finally let down our guard and allow our inner hearts to weep.
We had a smudge ceremony, which is a cleansing of energy by waving burning sage, lavender, and other herbs. This tradition dates back thousands of years and has been used to prevent illness, ward off negative energy, and cleanse a space or a person. Our whole group has officially been purged, and the smell of sweet sage lingers.
We sang, played guitar, beat on the drums, and harmonized. We rocked out and had background drumming while navigating our emotions.
And through it all, we shared mirthful laughter that left my cheeks sore and stomach muscles aching. We laughed so hard we cried, and then we laughed harder. It was such a convivial energy that I felt overcome with love, satisfaction, and gratitude.
The feeling of joy and satisfaction enveloped me the entire weekend. I felt safe, content, grateful, and happy. This was my bliss, my happy place, and I found it with the best of friends.
In the Blue Zones, the longest-living societies in the world as defined by Dan Buettner, they all share in common that they have a circle of loyal friends. In Okinawa, this circle is called a moai. A moai is a group of lifelong friends that offer support and security by always being there for each other. There is strength in this group, and it can add healthful years to a person’s life.
This contentment, this bliss, this was our moai, and I felt its power. As we strive to live our best lives, finding a group of friends to be there in good times and times of challenge may be the secret we’re looking for. Maybe it’s the answer to all the questions above. Rely on our moai, fill our hearts with love and gratitude, and laugh mirthfully like that’s all that matters.