What the bleep

I watched "What the Bleep Do We Know?" on DVD yesterday. It was a major release in 2004, I guess, but I only vaguely remember hearing about it at the time. A friend recommended it to me when we were talking about my reading on alternate universes, so I thought I'd see if it had anything to offer.

It's weird, intentionally freaky. It's essentially a popular introduction to quantum physics, intertwined with a plot that's supposed to illustrate the concepts. I didn't care for the approach. I did, however, find the scientific and philosophical discussions (the non-plotted parts) intriguing. I honestly don't know how it did well, though, as I'd not have been able to follow the threads if I hadn't done so much reading on quantum physics recently.

Much of the emphasis is on the influence our consciousness — our thoughts — have on reality. The mind-body connection is real, and many in the scientific community have come to embrace practices such as guided imagery and meditation, after seeing amazing, repeatable results in controlled experiments. But the film emphasized more than how our thoughts influence our own bodies; it explored the ways our thoughts influence the world around us.

That's trippy. And it's dangerous territory for me. I've always had a ridiculously strong internal locus of control. I feel responsible for all that happens in the world; I certainly felt responsible for Sandy's wellbeing. Many smart people, friends and therapists alike, have tried to help me understand that in fact, I don't control everything, am not expected to be all-powerful, and am not to blame when bad things happen. (They also think my concentration has nothing to do with what's keeping the plane in the air. Yeah, right. That thing just floats up there on its own. . .)

There are cool studies that show that a short period of true
gratitude boosts the immune system for hours afterwards, so
we spent time focusing on all that we were grateful for; I have
our various gratitude lists, scribbled on legal pads. But I
haven't seen studies specifically on depression, anger,
frustration, or despair and the immune system. It'd be
interesting to know how much damage such emotions (or,
as is often the case with depression, lack of emotion) cause,
if any. And whether expressing anger vs. suppressing it makes
any difference, for example. There's so much I don't know.

I came away from the movie even more interested in quantum physics and its intersection with philosophy. But I also came away troubled. I know enough about breast cancer now to know that the features of Sandy's initial tumors indicated extremely aggressive cancer, and that no one has yet been cured once such cancer metastasizes. (And that, indeed, it would have been a miracle if a cancer with those particular properties hadn't metastasized.) Yet I've wondered many times if her depression played a role in the cancer's genesis and its proliferation. If I'd been a better partner, more supportive, more [fill in the blank], would she have lived? Every time I start to believe that her death was nobody's fault, something comes along to make me question it all over again.

Frankly, until we know how to both prevent and cure breast cancer, and specifically the aggressive type that Sandy had, almost any answers are possible. Maybe there are things we could have done. Maybe if we'd started meditating together earlier, for example, or if she'd not returned to Microsoft, things might have been different. I won't even go into the long list of ways I hurt and disappointed her over the years, but I revisit those frequently, wondering if they — individually or collectively — led to the development of disease.

We can't see all the alternate universes where each choice was different, where we actually found an effective way to halt Sandy's depression, where I was the perfect partner, where she had all the support she needed to love herself as much as she loved others. Quantum physics says that those alternate universes may exist, but it's hard to do a solid comparative study when the data is so far out of our reach.

So I'm learning once again to try to walk the line — understanding that I am not responsible for all that happens in the world and that my hypervigilance is not necessary or healthy, while somehow being empowered to use meditation, yoga, guided imagery, and other techniques to heal my mind and body and some small part of the world with a sense of peace and harmony. It's a tough line to walk. For now, anyway, the universe seems intent on correcting my course when I slip off the beam onto one side or another, but it's not generous enough to offer up any clear answers.