Just after our wedding while we were still in Maryland, I noticed that I had developed a hernia in the left groin area.  Though I was able to stick it back in, it popped out again as soon as I stood and moved.  Initially I was worried until my mother assured me it was a hernia.  I had had small hernias in the same area in my childhood, but they remained small and hidden for many years until suddenly one of them grew so large that something needed to be done.

Shortly after Kris and I came home from Ivan’s Graduation from the Air Force Academy in the spring of 1985; I made an appointment to see someone at the Group Health Cooperative facility in Capitol Hill that was very close to us.  I was covered under Kris’ health insurance plan.

The summer was soon approaching and I wanted to take advantage of the summer activities–picnics, hiking, and camping–I asked the doctor if it would be okay to put off my hernia repair until the fall when it would be easier for me to recuperate with less to do outdoors.  Besides, it would be less busy at food service when more people would be back from vacations, though I would be granted time off anytime for surgery.  The doctor felt that this would be fine since a few months longer wouldn’t be so critical. 

The Group Health Hospital at Capitol Hill was booked solid, so I needed to go to the hospital at the Eastside facility at Redmond.  On the morning of my surgery on September 4, 1985, my in-laws came to drive Kris and me to and from the hospital to save us from taking a taxi and to help me if I needed anything when we arrived home.  My mother-in-law fixed lunch for all of us and went home shortly after when assured that I would be fine without additional help.  I had the hernia repair as an outpatient so I didn’t need to spend any nights there.

After the local anesthesia had worn off several hours following the operation I began to feel a lot pain.  I had hope that I would be able to get by with just aspirin, but I was hurting so much that I had to resort to the much more powerful analgesic that I was prescribed.

Basically the drug I had taken for a few days was designed to control the pain by depressing the nervous system so as to numb the pain receptors.  This resulted in the slowing down of my systems–brain, muscles, and digestion.  I became very sluggish, thought I needed plenty of rest for better healing.  The worst part was when I had terrible constipation, as I had a tendency to begin with.

I was home for four weeks as my job in food service involved being on my feet with some lifting which would have caused a strain on my surgery.  I welcomed the break from work, especially since I had received three weeks worth of time-off compensation from my union.  After practically being in bed all of the first week, I began to regain some of my strength and were able to do things as long as they weren’t too physical.

Since I had so much time off I did some activities that I normally didn’t have time for.  I shopped at a fabric store and made a gray woolen business suit to wear just in case I would have a job interview.  Even though I wasn’t actively looking for another job, I wanted to be ready in case any of my Boeing contacts would be able to get me a job directly for the company which would provide a greater amount of pay.

While I was up and about during my recuperation from the hernia repair, especially the last two weeks when I was feeling more and more normal, I got tired of staying home all the time and went to as many things as possible as long as I didn’t need to walk too much.  I went to all of the community open houses that I saw advertised in my area, picnics, and a series of foreign films shown for free at the Seattle Public Library in downtown.  I normally didn’t watch movies though I occasionally attended slide shows.  I was happy to go back to work at the end of the four weeks of recovery.

I was puzzled as to why I had developed hernia since it had been associated with those who had been involved with prolonged heavy lifting such as in certain jobs.  Though I hadn’t done much heavy lifting I had theorized that the culprit was chronic constipation that could cause greater wear and tear of the muscles in the abdominal area from frequent straining while using the bathroom.  Despite being on a high fiber diet, I suffered from it.

 

Generally those with autism tend to be more prone to digestive or bowel disorders, such as diarrhea, constipation, or both.  My mother, who didn’t have autism, had irritable bowel syndrome.  So, I apparently had inherited the disorder from her and not all of it could be the result of my neurological condition. The build up of stresses that are inherent in the disability could cause great havoc with digestion since it tends to be very sensitive to the stress hormones.

To learn more about improving my health, with a greater emphasis on nutrition and digestion, I subscribed to the magazine, Prevention, and purchased several books on healing and health.  Though most of the information was general there were a few things here and there that I was able to learn.

Throughout the mid to late eighties whenever I was home for more than a few days during some of the holidays or when I was home with illness, I went on fasts where I didn’t take in any solid food but lots of liquids–herbal teas and an intestinal cleansing formula in water.  I had read in several articles and books that fasts could be effective in removing the accumulated toxins from the system and in giving the overworked digestive system a break.  To further draw out and eliminate toxins to prevent reabsorption whenever I fasted for a few days or more I gave myself coffee enemas that were recommended by several health books.

During the late eighties I had a colonic (colon irrigation) a few times.  The procedure involved putting a tube in the rectum for the maximum amount of water from the tank filled up the entire colon until the pressure became too great and released.  Though the result on my system wasn’t as striking as I had hoped, it was good to investigate and try various programs to find what would be effective and help the most.  I felt that my open mindedness would enable me to win in the long run.  There could have been other factors that were implicated in my constipation that might had been overlooked–emotions, hormonal or metabolic imbalances, and overeating which tend to be common in autism.

Periodically during the late eighties I had experimented with a few laxatives which were much too strong for me–a laxative herbal tea (an assortments of herbs which stimulate the bowel) and a laxative gel cap product (claims for breaking up of hard impacted waste matter)–which by the next day after them I reacted much too strongly and cramped with diarrhea.  After I had rebounded from the products, I ended up even more constipated.

Throughout most of my life as I reduced the amount of dairy products and increase amount of dietary fiber and increase physical activities, I notice gradual improvements in my digestion.  I went from defecating twice a week to about ten a week.  Usually in the mornings, I clean myself out very well with a substantial bowel movement with easy elimination.  It feels good.  Whenever I flush a toilet, I keep the handle down for several seconds until I am about to hear the contents go down then let go for a more powerful flush so things go down.  I have a long gut.  My digestion does still can be thrown off from stresses, such as emotional turmoil and travel.  I tend to feel best when I have at least one good bowel movement a day.

I basically consume a high fiber natural whole foods diet that is low on animal foods and glutinous grains.  I occasionally eat salmon, sardines, some white fish, and organically raised poultry and eggs.  I sometime have yogurt.  Most days I am a vegan (strict vegetarian).  I do not consume red meats and shell food.  I eat all sorts of whole grains, including rice, millet, quinoa, oats, spelt, and rye and all sorts of beans and lentils.  I eat lots of green leafy vegetables and other veggies.    I have fruits mostly when they are in season and is from our back yard, including raspberries, apples, figs, and plums.  I find that I could now have peanuts and nuts in moderation without any reactions as in years past.

 

Both Kris and I had become very adamant about not having any children.  Kris’ low physical endurance from his visual impairment and over worked eyes wouldn’t allow him to effectively handle the responsibilities of fatherhood.  I, besides the greater genetic risk of passing on autism through future generations, was also concerned with whether we would sufficiently be able to provide for all of the needs for our children–environmental, economical, and social.  Not that autism is bad.  Despite the increasing numbers of mothers with small children working outside of the home, there was no way that I could continue employment while raising little ones.  It would be too much for me emotionally and physically.  Both of us had been enjoying the carefree lifestyle without any worries of parenthood and having a greater amount of freedom to come and go as we please.

After using latex birth control devices for a little while I had a tubal ligation as an outpatient at the Group Health Hospital on January of 1986.  This was very wise as we were firm in our decision.  This operation was a lot easier than hernia repair as I was able to go back to work after two days.  I was even able to take the bus home after I walked out of the hospital.  Kris was with me to be available for assistance.  The costs were covered.  What Group Health didn’t cover, my union health care paid the rest though not until a year later.  I had presented them with an article about possible genetic causes of autism for consideration of the coverage.

 

Besides taking vacations to visit relatives, we sometimes did other things for more variety.  For example, in May of 1986 my in-laws drove Kris and I up to Vancouver, British Columbia for the world’s fair, Expo ‘86, for several days.  On the way to and from Canada, we stayed at a Hotel 6 in Bellingham, a university town.  While in British Columbia we stayed in a nice bed ‘n breakfast place in a senior couple’s home that we were referred to by friends.

Despite the huge crowds and long lines to get into any building at the expo, I enjoyed the exhibits from many countries including films and slides from all over the world.  I received so much more from Expo ‘86 as an adult than I did from the New York World’s Fair in the mid sixties as a child.  Since it was so easy to get lost and separated with the vast areas and hordes of people, Kris and I held hands during the entire time.  His parents went on their own way and we all met at a certain place at a certain time each day.

 

Over a year later during the end of July of 1987, we went back to Canada for a week of vacation, but at my brother-in-law, Eric’s, summer property with an old cabin at Cortes Island.  The family had owned acreage there for years.  They had stayed there for a month every summer.  The island is located about eighty miles north of Vancouver.  This was approximately the same remote area that I had wanted to move to years earlier when I had an obsession of leaving New York when I was fifteen.  It was as though I had already made a connection to the region.

Kris and I flew in by a six-passenger seaplane from Seattle to a harbor where Eric and family picked us up in their van.  They parked it at the end of the road at Culture Bay that was the closest we could drive to their place.  We went the rest of the way on the water in their old dinghy and made several trips.  The alternative was to hike in the woods on steep rocky trails and old logging roads, which would be challenging for Kris.  Hiking out was necessary whenever it was too stormy to take the boat out.

Kris and I slept in my two-person tent close to the water (Desolate Sound) but still in the woods. The cabin was a little bit up the hill with a great view of the passage.  The beach was very rugged with mounds of large rocks and boulders.  Since this presented more of a challenge for Kris to stroll along the beach, he began to build and maintain a trail in the woods along the side of the waterfront to the point as far as the property went.  During the early mornings as I hiked in the woods or along the beach, I munched on salal berries here and there as a pre-breakfast appetizer.  Later in the day I ate seaweed and other weeds from the beach.  In the cabin I referred to a book for a guide to edible weeds and wilds.

Without indoor plumbing, we filled up buckets of water from the stream close by and kept food cool in old refrigerator crisper bins with make-do plywood lids.  We heated up water and cooked over an old wood stove.  I bathed in the sound and took a shower from a portable camper’s kit.  Instead of an outhouse, we dug deep pits out in the woods a little way from behind the cabin and set up an old chair with a big hole in the seat with an old toilet seat on top of it as a make-do toilet.  When the pit got full we dug up another one.

 

A few months later in September, I went on my only week long backpack with the Mountaineers though we got rained out on the third day and left early to go home the next day.  A group of about ten of us were supposed to circle around Mount Hood in Oregon, but were only able to go half way before leaving.  Even though we had had a period of drought during the summer in the Pacific Northwest with watering restrictions imposed by late summer, I didn’t want the rain that was the first one in months.  Despite certain hardships–weather, load weighted down by excessive weight of food, and dampness with chilly evenings; I still had a very good time hiking, enjoying the scenery, and spending time with people.

I had wanted to go on more extended backpacks or camping trips for several years by then, but between fitting in other vacation plans and the very limited number of trips printed up in the Mountaineer bulletin I hadn’t managed.  Most of the week-long trips didn’t appear until the April issue for the following summer, when it was already way past the due date in my request which had to be turned in by end of January for the entire year especially when asking time off during the peak high demand period throughout the summer.  It almost didn’t matter since I had limited time off anyway and had my side of the family to visit in the East coast that used up some of my vacation time.

 

 

As Kris and I became more settled in our marriage about six months after the wedding and upon full recovery from my surgery in the fall of 1985, I began to explore Seattle for cultural activities.  I had read all of the flyers that were stapled on posts about rallies, meetings, and other events.  I was curious as to what the city had to offer in the way of events and ongoing things to go to without admission charges.

Though Kris and I were very happy in our relationship, we did some things separately as well as doing them together.  The main activity that Kris went to without me was during the football season in the fall when he, who loved to watch all the football games on TV, went to a few Husky football events at the University of Washington.  He went with a good family friend who had season tickets to the home games.  Ray was the son of a set of Kris’ godparents.  He was very close to Kris.  He was very friendly and was often available to take him to shop or to Harstine Island to visit my in-laws.

Generally since Kris often needed to rest his eyes he tended to be a homebody.  Having grown up with the Episcopal denomination, he often went to the Episcopal Trinity Parish since living in our condo.  He usually attended the Wednesday evening services after work since it was easier than attending on Sunday.  Sometimes I went with him and both of us joined a home bible study group from the church.  Other times I went alone to explore other faiths.  This was okay with Kris as he was very open-minded, though he didn’t want to go with me.

 

One thing that I went alone was to a free concert of flute music by Sri Chinmoy.  This seemed enjoyable so I went to it one evening.  Sri Chinmoy, an Indian born guru, had lived in New York and toured the country and the world to perform.  His music was very meditative and soothing.  At the end of the evening at the concert I picked up a flyer about an upcoming weekend workshop on meditation that was free.

My interest in meditation began to resurface in the fall of 1985 after many years since I had tried it for a little while when I was seventeen.  I felt that it would help me relax more.  I had heard that the benefits from it include calming of the nervous system that I felt that I needed.  I was much more motivated to give this a try than I was eleven years earlier.

The weekend workshop not only provided spiritual nourishment with talks and meditation, but also physical nourishment with lunches and snacks.  The meals were vegetarian as the use of the flesh foods, alcoholic beverages, and drugs were strongly discouraged as influenced by Hinduism.  The dietary restrictions were very much in line with what I believed in and had been practicing though I wasn’t always strict about avoiding meat entirely whenever I was out.  The people seemed very friendly and calmer than most folks–likely the result of allowing time for relaxation.

I was impressed with the healthful lifestyle philosophy and joined the Sri Chinmoy Meditation Center following their workshop.  During the first six weeks I went to the new member meetings on beginning meditation.  After that I had attended meetings with the full-fledged members mostly on Friday and Sunday evenings when it was generally the most convenient.  We met as much as three evenings and one morning a week.

The center was located in the home of a family in the Montlake neighborhood of Seattle, near the arboretum and close to the University of Washington.  It also wasn’t far from our home, close enough that it was a straight shot by bus.  Even though it would already be dark at around nine o’clock by the time the meeting ended, I felt safe going home alone through the Seattle streets. 

During each meditation we started with a side of a cassette tape of music by Sri Chinmoy and continue with silence through the end of the hour.  Occasionally we also included very slow walking around the room for about five to ten minutes.  During the conclusion, we took turns one by one to go up to the altar to receive a small treat (prasad).  The altar had briquettes of freshly cut flowers, candles, incense, and framed photographs of Sri Chinmoy.

The men, together on the left side of the room, were clean-shaven and dressed in white shirt and pants.  The women, sitting on the right side, wore Indian style clothing–sari, or matching dresses with long side slits and pants.  I made my first two saris since they were the easiest to make.  I received a few more as gifts and purchased a few used ones from other members.  One elderly woman, who was very active in the group, noticed that I didn’t have a slip that was long enough so she had sewed me one.

The same woman, who had made me the slip, showed concern for me and was outspoken.  For example, whenever I spoke too loudly or when I interrupted others during a discussion, she kindly pointed out these things.  I took the constructive criticisms well as I knew that they were for my good.

The meditation group was a very closely knit, with the frequent meetings and the generous amount of substantial refreshments served at the end.  We all took turns supplying the refreshments and the flowers.  It was required that each member came at least once a week except when out of town.  We also celebrated everyone’s birthdays with monthly birthday parties and showers of gifts.  We also had birthday cakes with candles.  Some of my friends were generous with their presents–new saris, a large quartz crystal, and a bag full of groceries from a health food store.

Often the food prepared, especially for the Wednesday evening dinners, potlucks, or weekend retreats, was Indian cuisine.  The fare usually included basmati rice, dhal (spicy split peas or lentils), spicy potato/ vegetable medley, and chutneys (fruit relish).  This was one of my favorite cuisines along with Oriental food.  I loved all of the Indian spices and the way the flavors melded together.  Apparently my taste buds were more Indian and Oriental than Jewish despite growing up with Jewish foods.  Not that I didn’t like them.  I had always gone more for foods that were more flavorful or spicier than bland.  The cuisine of my heritage tended to be blander.  Whenever I had cooked beans, I used plenty of herbs and spices.

Almost every month, there was a weekend gathering (joy days) of the four Sri Chinmoy meditation groups in the Pacific Northwest–Victoria and Vancouver, British Columbia in Canada; Seattle, Washington and Portland, Oregon.  We rotated between these locations where the hosting group prepared the delicious vegetarian food.  The out-of-towners were put up in homes of the local disciples for Saturday evening.  On Sunday morning, we all helped the host center by sponsoring community athletic events to raise funds.

A young female disciple, who was very friendly and active in the group, provided me with most of the rides to joy days that were out of town.  She had a severe skin condition with red splotches and scarring (rosacea) all over her face and other parts of her body.  She helped out in the Sri Chinmoy enterprises; health food deli, bookstore, and vegetarian Indian restaurant.  I went with her to several places to distribute flyers for our upcoming activities.  Her skin appearance didn’t bother me at all as her inner and outer beauty over shadowed the physical imperfection.

The guru, who was highly spiritual with a background of Eastern religions, had many talents: music, poetry, painting, running, and weight lifting.  When he was on a tour in the Pacific Northwest, including Washington State and British Columbia during November of 1986, I went with the group to see him perform in Seattle and a few days later in Vancouver, B.C.  I was picked up on a Friday evening and spent a night at Vancouver at a hotel with a bunch of disciples.

Even though I had never idolized and worshipped any human being as if a god, I wanted to see what the experience of the disciples gathering around the guru was like.  I had heard from some friends that generally there would be a greater amount of excitement.  I was very interested to see that many of the people had come from as far as California.  It was amazing to hear that the guru had a large entourage with him from New York.  The main reasons why I came were to be with my friends, to meet people and to take walks in a different area rather than focus entirely on Sri Chinmoy.

The majority of the members, around thirty in all, were young and single, though there were a few families such as a couple with two growing boys in whose house the meetings were held.  There was another family with a little girl and boy, and a young couple without children.  A rule that didn’t make sense to me, though it was irrelevant since I wasn’t planning to have children, was that once single, stay single and once childless, stay childless while being in the group.  This discouraged people for making changes in their lives.

Many of the disciples were given spiritual Indian names by the guru, especially the old timers who had visited him regularly.  As he got to know each follower, he would meditate on a name that would be most befitting for the member.  Three times a year most of the disciples flocked to New York to be with Sri Chinmoy for a week long festivals.  It was set as a requirement that those who had been disciples for at least four years or more were to attend at least one of the New York festivals every year.  I never went to any of them since I had limited vacation time and limited funds for the traveling expenses.  I preferred to use my weeks off to visit my family in Maryland, other relatives and going to other places for exploring.

By the end of summer of 1987 when I had been attending the meditation center for almost two years, I contemplated and considered for a few months, and realized it was time for me to move on and drop out from the center.  Though I was lured by the positive qualities–generosity of the refreshments, closeness of the camaraderie, and acceptance–it wasn’t for me to continue.  With my low self-esteem and longing for greater acceptance by others, I was very susceptible to being drawn into a cult with some strange values, and they were anti-family.

There were too many refreshments which lead to temptation that was too difficult for me to control, not that anyone should had been blamed.  I also didn’t have any intentions of attending any of Sri Chinmoy’s New York festivals that was required of long standing disciples.  Nobody ever inflicted any harm upon me, and the main thing that I received from the organization was learning to meditate and the benefits from it.  There were also other organizations that I wanted to check out or already had begun without jamming my schedule so much.

Throughout the latter part of the eighties I looked at other Indians gurus during their tours in Seattle, at free community gatherings that featured meditations and concerts.  They weren’t any better than Sri Chinmoy though different and had formed their own cults.  These gurus generally had come from impoverished backgrounds–extreme poverty or abusive households–that apparently influenced their outlook in life.  Though they, like him, had drawn followers and formed meditation groups that met regularly, I never joined.  One was a man who claimed to have meditated for entire days, which I feel are excessive and overdoing a good thing.  He offered darshan to each individual in attendance of which each goes up to him and receive a Prasad (food or small gift).  I attended a few meditations with vegetarian potlucks. 

Another was a woman guru, Mata Amritanandamayi (Amma).  She offered darshan with hugs to each who come up to her.  She preached loving embrace and have been visiting the Seattle area every year since 1987.  Her entourage included people who played meditative and Indian music of which I enjoyed very much and purchased some recordings of the music.  When she came to the Seattle area, she held meditation sessions at a home in the Eastside for a weekend of which I got the information from a New Age publication.   I continued to attend her meditations some subsequent years when she was in Seattle and met at large halls to accommodate the large crowds she attracted.  While I was at her meditation, I had a strong longing to get free from my food addictions and wanted peace so much.  I hanged on to hope and determined to never let go of it.  While I was sitting on a large cushion on a floor with most of the people in the group, I asked myself, “is this the day that I would be set free from my addictions?”  I did receive love and peace in glimpses.  So I was hopeful that I would receive much more in the future when I get my life more together.

At home I set up my small altar on the right side of an old desk that Kris had had for many years while the left side was still used as the night table by the bed.  It was the only space in our place that we were able to make room to use.  On my half, I placed a small tablecloth of either my boutiques or appliqués.  I laid out some of my seashells, and whenever I had freshly cut flowers or incense, I placed them on the desk.

I tried to meditate at least once a day, mostly early in the morning when I was at my freshest and our unit was the quietest.  Whenever I was able to get up before the alarm went off, I allowed an extra half hour in the weekday morning before work to get ready so I would have time to meditate.  When I purchased a small boom box I played soothing cassette tapes during meditation.  I bought a bunch of tapes from the Sri Chinmoy center of music by the guru himself or by other artists from his compositions.  The prices were reasonable and the proceeds went back to the center.

 

Since I had meditated, I noticed that I had become calmer and more in tuned with my human nature, along with the calming effects of my vegetarian diet.  Even a few disciples from the center had discerned a change in me from when I had started.  I had developed an increased spiritual or serene glow.  My self-esteem that was low for so many years began to be raised, but I still had long way to go on my journey.