青柳诊所手记55

青柳诊所手记55

秋天悄悄来临了，树上挂满了即将成熟的果子，园子里芳香四溢，蜜蜂和鸟儿从树枝间穿来穿去。

园里的果树几乎全都是阿里医生种的，而他总是把最甜的果子留给我们品尝，他自己却只挑那些掉在地上的或者有虫眼的吃。我和大师兄两年前也种了一棵蓝莓树、一棵樱桃树和一棵苹果树。蓝莓今年大丰收，樱桃也结了一大把又甜又红的果子，而那棵矮矮的苹果树上呢，有四个大大的苹果在发着神秘的光彩。

疫情后很多人都有精神层面的问题，焦虑和抑郁的患病率明显增加。

患者C来找我们治疗，她的主诉就是忧郁症。她见了心理治疗师多年了并且一直在吃抗忧郁药，但似乎效果越来越不明显。她的身体总是很痛，有时还得靠吸大麻来止痛。她来找我们，也是希望我们帮她缓解身体的疼痛。

有一次我给她治完了，我去园子里干活，她在后面跟着我。

我说，“啊，要照顾好一个园子可不是一件容易的事。以前我觉得最烦人的是拔草。它们可真够倔强的，只要有一点点泥土就发疯般地生长。我拔了又拔，总是没有办法把它们拔干净。其实，忧虑何尝不也是一种野草？”

“可不是嘛，”C苦笑着说，”它们拔了又长、长了又拔，从来就没有消停过。”

她告诉我，大多数时候，她忧郁的心情不过如阳光下的一片乌云，晃荡一下也就过去了，并不会留下太多的痕迹。可是，心情烦闷到极点的时候就不一样了。那时，她会怀疑一切嘲弄一切，大有要破罐子破甩的趋势。然而，这种骤起的飓风一样的心情，却不是阳光下的一片云，飘过去就没事了，而是飓风过去，到处可见破坏的痕迹，要重回以前，总得小心弥补损失，而且每一次都比上一次花的精力要多。

“我不大懂忧郁症，”我说，“我不是心理学家，但是，我现在对该如何对付野草有一点经验了。除非它们长得够多够高有些喧宾夺主了，不然我都懒得拔它们了。”

“哦，为什么呢？”

“因为我意识到了野草是拔不尽的，而如果我过多地关注它们，往往就忽略了我种植的草药、花卉和果树了。我觉得还是把时间花在我喜欢的事情上划算。当我们种的那些植物们长得越来越生机勃勃时，我发现那些野草也有些俯首称臣放慢增长的速度了。忧郁症是不是也可以这样对待呢？如果忧愁宛如野草，你不想要它，就多种一点你喜欢的东西好了。”

C惊讶地看着我，“安娜医生，你很幽默啊。可是，我每天疲于奔命，根本没有闲工夫去种花草。况且我住在一个小公寓里，我就是想种也没有地方种呀。”

“你不用去种花草，你多去做一些你喜欢做的事情，那就是在种植快乐啊，亲爱的C，”我说。“你看阿里医生就是这样，他每天都在园子里耕耘，却很少花精力去拔草。结果呢，现在满园都是香气扑鼻的果子。那些野草还在那里吗？还在。不过，这有什么关系呢，谁会去注意它们呢？每个人走进这园子，他们看到的都是令人垂涎的果实，而不是那些不起眼的野草啊。”

C似有所悟，许久没有说话。

我继续说：“C，我亲爱的朋友，就如一首老歌唱的那样，泪水和笑声总是携手漫步。人生就如这温哥华的天气，時晴時雨。院子里鲜花和野草并存，这也是一种平衡啊。”

那天阳光真好，C主动帮我摘蓝莓。我们俩都摘了满满的一塑料袋子。临走时她说：“我以前要是像现在这样弯腰干活，我的腰早就应该痛得直不起来了。奇怪，今天却一点儿也不疼，这是什么原因啊，安娜医生？”

我笑了，说，“我曾在一个寺庙里遇到一个朝圣的老妇，她看上去很胖，走路时腿也显得不大利索。那是一个有月光的晚上，她在庙门口鞠了一躬，然后在寺庙的冰冷的石阶上跪下来礼佛。我躲在树后面观望了她好久，她在坚硬的石头上拜了又跪跪了又拜，眼泪在她苍老的脸上流淌，她的唇上却又挂着一丝笑意。她在那里拜了好几个小时。我都惊呆了，那么大年纪的一个人，怎么可能有这么好的腰力呢？说来说去还是一个愿力啊。”

“如果我礼的不是佛又是什么呢？”C轻声问，然后又指一下天空，“或许是那软软的暖暖的阳光吧，我感觉它有一种神奇的让人振奋的力量。”

C的脸色又阴沉下来，她叹了口气，“安娜医生，我经常感觉身心俱疲。如果有灵魂的话，我想它也是倦怠的。有时我想，我怎么会颓废到这个地步呢？或者我天生就有缺陷？我出生后不久，父亲就突然去世，留下母亲带着我们在困境中挣扎。现在我长大了，我也明白，在当时那种情况下，母亲已经尽力了。可是，我总是记得在我六岁生日那天，母亲上班去了，我等了一整天盼着她回家。她一进门，我就扑进她的怀里，害羞地问：‘妈妈，我的生日礼物呢？’ 她一把把我推开，气冲冲地朝我喊道：‘什么礼物？你这个没用的东西！我但愿你从未出生过！’我的心碎了，我想从那以后我就再也没有正常过。”

C抽泣了一会儿，目光渐渐看向远方。

我轻声说道：“C，你知道，就连一些野草也是草药。你的痛苦来源于你的灵魂想要你放慢脚步，开始疗愈你自己。它不认为你接近崩溃，恰恰相反，它认为你现在有足够的勇气让自己变得强大、开始踏上你的疗愈之旅。”

我们聊天的时候，太阳已经驱散了残存的乌云，一抹粉色的光线掠过了天空。我注意到阳光照亮了C的脸庞和眼眸，也照亮了一只嗡嗡飞过的蜜蜂的纤细翅膀，露珠在我们身边的叶子上熠熠发亮。

我觉得C已经走在好转的路上了，而这，并不仅仅是针灸在起作用。

Whispering of Willows 55

By Dr. Anna Zhao

Autumn has quietly arrived, and the trees in the clinic garden are laden with ripening fruit. The garden is filled with fragrance; bees and birds are flitting among the branches.

Dr. Ali planted almost all the fruit trees in the garden, and yet he always saves the sweetest fruit for us to enjoy, while he himself eats only those that have fallen to the ground or have been bitten by worms. Two years ago, Dr. Daniel and I planted a blueberry tree, a cherry tree, and an apple tree. The blueberry had quite a harvest this year, the cherry tree has also yielded a large handful of sweet, red fruit, and on the stout apple tree, four large apples are gleaming mysteriously.

Since the pandemic, we have seen more people experiencing mental health issues, with a significant increase in the prevalence of anxiety and depression.

C came to us for treatment, with her primary complaint being depression. She had been seeing a psychotherapist for years and taking antidepressants, but they seemed to be losing their effectiveness. She suffered constant pain, sometimes resorting to smoking marijuana for pain relief. She came to us, hoping we could help relieve her physical suffering. Once, after I finished treating her, I went to work in the garden, and she followed me.

As we wandered, I talked, "Ah, taking care of a garden is no easy task. I used to find the weeds the most annoying. They're so stubborn, growing like crazy wherever there is a little bit of soil. I pulled and pulled, but I could never eradicate them. “

Then I added, “Ah, C, isn't worry or depression like a weed to you sometimes?"

"That's right," C responded with a wry smile. "They keep growing, growing, and growing again, never stopping."

She told me that most of the time, her melancholy was like a dark cloud shielding the sun, fleeting and passing without leaving much of a mark. But when her depression grew in strength, it was different. Then, she would doubt and mock everything, as if she was approaching the end of the world. However, this sudden, hurricane-like feeling was not like a fleeting cloud soon to pass away. Instead, after the hurricane, traces of damage remained visible everywhere. To return to where she started, C felt forced to expend so much time and energy focused on the problems, with each successive incident requiring more energy and time than the previous one.

"I don't know much about depression," I said. "I'm not a psychologist, but I have some experience dealing with weeds. The weeds quietly and sneakily intrude into our garden, but you know, I seldom even try to pull them out anymore unless they are taking over part of our garden. “

"Oh, why is that?"

"Because I've realized that weeds are inevitable, and if I focus too much on them, I tend to neglect my herbs, flowers, and fruit trees. I think it's more worthwhile to spend my limited time and energy on what I enjoy. As our plants have grown more and more vibrant, I notice that the weeds have slowed down their growth. Can depression be treated the same way? If worries are like a weed, and you don't want it around, why don’t you just plant more of what really pleases you?"

C looked at me in surprise. "Dr. Anna, you're very humorous. But I'm so busy every day making ends meet that I don't have the time to plant anything. Besides, I live in a small apartment, so even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have anywhere to plant."

"You don't have to plant flowers, C. Do more of what builds you up—that's how you plant happiness, dear C," I emphasized. "Look at what Dr. Ali does! He toils in the garden every day, but rarely we see him putting any effort into weeding. As a result, the garden is now laden with fragrant fruit. Are those weeds still there? Yes, they are. But what does it matter? Who would pay attention to them? Everyone who enters this garden sees the beautiful flowers and scrumptious fruit, not those insignificant weeds."

C was silent so I went on: “My dear friend, like the weather, you will have days that are bright and sunny. But, as the old song says, teardrops and laughter go through the world hand in hand. Like the plants in the garden, we require balance.”

C seemed to understand and remained silent for a long time.

It was a beautiful day, and C offered to help me pick blueberries. We both picked a full plastic bag. Before leaving, she said, "If I'd bent over like this to work before, my back would have been aching terribly and I would have difficulty to straighten it. It's strange, but today it doesn't hurt at all. What's the reason, Dr. Anna?"

I smiled and said, "One moonlight night, I watched a very plump old woman walk unsteadily to a Buddhist temple. I hid behind a tree and watched her for a time. She bowed briefly at the entrance, then walked further in to kneel and worship on the hard cold stone for several hours, tears running on her cheeks, but a smile on her lips.  I was stunned. How could someone that old have such great strength? I suppose, it must have something to do with her focus on what works for her happiness."

"If I'm not a follower of Buddha, then what else could work?" C mused softly. She then pointed to the sky, "For me, maybe it's the soft, warm sunlight. I feel it has a magical, uplifting power."

C’s countenance darkened and she sighed again, “Dr. Anna, often I have felt so broken, every part of me, my body, my mind, and my spirit; if there is such a thing as spirit. Sometimes I wonder how I remain so broken or if I was born defective…  Soon after my birth, my father died suddenly leaving my mother in such difficulty. My adult heart knows mother did the best she could in such a situation. However, I still remember on my sixth birthday, I waited all day for my mother to return home from work, and as soon as she appeared at the door, I jumped into her arms and asked shyly, ‘Where is my birthday gift, Mommy? ’ She pushed me away and stared angrily into my eyes, ‘What gift, you useless thing! I wish you had never been born!’ I instantly felt broken to pieces, and I suppose I haven’t been right since.”

C sobbed and trailed off looking into the distance.

I spoke softly, “C, even some weeds can be herbal medicine, you know? Your pain could be your soul wanting you to slow down and begin healing yourself. Far from being weak or broken, your body/mind/spirit see you as strong enough to undertake this journey at this time.”

As we were chatting, a pink glow spread across the vast sky as the sun chased the remaining dark clouds away. I noticed the sunlight was glinting both on C’s face and in her eyes, as well as on the tiny wings of a bee that buzzed past. The dew on the blades of nearby plants sparkled like diamonds.

I think C is on the road to recovery, and it's not only from the effect of our acupuncture.