We Bless And Are Blessed: Adventures in Human Awakening

By Joseph Howard

This colorful and autobiographical lessons-of-life book addresses many essential themes for seekers and adventurers of the rich inner landscape. Written by a long-time psychotherapist and inner traveler, Joseph Howard expands upon perennial themes including being lost and being found, healing old wounds, rebirth and longing for home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483543758

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1

Miracle

I was twenty-one years old and living in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I’d dropped out of The University of Alabama, was working three jobs. I rented a room at the ‘White House’, a large, run-down, hippie boarding house on University Boulevard. A dedicated yoga student, I arose early each morning to do a routine of postures and breathing exercises. I only ate healthy natural foods. I was fit and strong, walked or bicycled everywhere I went.

One day I noticed a sore on top of my right shoulder, red and raw, the size of a quarter. Weeks went by, but it wouldn’t scab over or heal. At the same time, I was becoming incredibly fatigued. I’d developed a continual fever. Simply riding the bicycle to one of my jobs was like climbing a tall mountain. I’ve just got a virus, I tried to reassure myself. But this was different. I had no sore throat, no sinus congestion, no cough. I’d had mononucleosis in high school, but this was more severe than that.

The final straw was when the lymph glands in my body began to swell to the size of ping-pong balls. This occurred in my neck, under my arms, behind my knees and both sides of my groin. Now I was truly alarmed. A friend suggested I go to a doctor. I visited a well-know general practitioner in town. His concern was immediately evident. I’d also begun to lose weight and must have looked a mess. After an examination he exited the room, came back ten minutes later. I want to be frank with you, said Dr. Whitehead. With prompt treatment, I believe you can live a decent life for several years. I want you to go into the hospital immediately.

What have I got? Is it bad? Dr. Whitehead said, I want you to get a biopsy of a lymph gland just so we can be sure. You have all the symptoms of Hodgkins Disease. (now called Hodgkins Lymphoma). My heart jumped into my throat, I could barely speak. "Disease? W…w…what do you mean?  Cancer. It’s in your lymph system.  With the fever, fatigue and swollen lymph you have the classic indicators. But… as I said, with proper treatment, you can live for several years… My mind was reeling. What happens after several years?  Joe, I’m pretty sure you have cancer. We just need to confirm it with a biopsy. Your long-term prognosis isn’t great."

I told Dr. Whitehead I needed some time to make a decision. Don’t hesitate long, he said. We need to get you into treatment as soon as possible. Leaving his office, I visited the nearby University library. I looked up Hodgkins Disease and the doctor was correct: I had all the symptoms and then some. I was terrified. I didn’t want to die. So on the bike ride home, I stopped at the health food store a block from my house.

Earle Drennen owned Harmony Foods. He was a close friend and mentor. I sought his advice. "What can I do? I don’t have insurance. Can I heal this naturally? The medical books at the library said I might have three years left if I get chemotherapy!  Calm down, Joe. There are natural cures for cancer. Why wouldn’t they work for you?" We eventually settled upon a book he lent me, Is Any Sick Among You? by La Dean Griffin. The author had a chapter on healing from Hodgkins using dietary, herbal and supplement recommendations. I determined I would throw myself into following the book’s program, make it my sole mission. Earle kindly lent me a hand-cranked juicer. I would use it to make fresh parsley juice, part of the regime.

At my follow-up appointment with Dr. Whitehead a few days later I told him I wasn’t going into the hospital, that I planned to get well using natural diet, meditation and prayer. He said, and I quote, Son, you’re crazy. You’ll die. My faith must have been strong, along with the wonderful invincibility of youth. I walked out of his office and never returned.

Faith soon gave way to fear as my symptoms worsened. My weakness soon increased to the point that I was unable to work, or even reliably get to my jobs. I had to quit them all. I applied for food stamps and got them, the only time in my life I’ve ever taken welfare from the government.

I lived in a room with a mattress, old refrigerator, a gas space heater. I’d taken an old door and placed it on cinder blocks to make a low table where I sat on the floor to cook on an electric hot plate.  The windowsill held sunlight and a blue and red coffee can with shamrocks blooming. A shared bathroom was down the hall. This became my world for the next several months.

Soon the night sweats began. I’d awaken each night in the wee hours drenched in sweat, the sheets soaked about me in a wide circle. After changing sheets I’d go back to sleep. I had a small radio I’d listen to during the day. For a month or so, I was too weak to do much yoga. Tom Bradford, the artist in the next room, listened to Bruce Springstein continually on his record