Read an Excerpt
But strange that I was not told
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God's heaven or hell.
I invite you to have a single thought, any thought. Whether your thought was related to a feeling of anger, sadness, inspiration, joy, or even sexual arousal, you changed your body. You changed you. All thoughts, whether they be 'I can't,' 'I can,' 'I'm not good enough,' or 'I love you,' have similar measurable effects. As you sit casually reading this page, not lifting a single finger, bear in mind that your body is undergoing a host of dynamic changes. Triggered by your most recent thought, did you know that suddenly, your pancreas and your adrenal glands are already busy secreting a few new hormones? Like a sudden lightning storm, different areas of your brain just surged with increased electrical current, releasing a mob of neurochemicals that are too numerous to name. Your spleen and your thymus gland sent out a mass e-mail to your immune system to make a few modifications. Several different gastric juices started flowing. Your liver began processing enzymes that were not present moments before. Your heart rate fluctuated, your lungs altered their stroke volume, and blood flow to the capillaries in your hands and feet changed. All from just thinking one thought. You are that powerful.
But how are you capable of performing all of those actions? We can all intellectually understand that the brain can manage and regulate many diverse functions throughout the rest of the body, but how responsible are we for the job our brain is doing as CEO of the body? Whether we like it or not, once a thought happens in the brain, the rest is history. All of the bodily reactions that occur from both our intentional or unintentional thinking unfold behind the scenes of our awareness. When you come right down to it, it is startling to realize how influential and extensive the effects of one or two conscious or unconscious thoughts can be.
For example, is it possible that the seemingly unconscious thoughts that run through our mind daily and repeatedly create a cascade of chemical reactions that produce not only what we feel but also how we feel? Can we accept that the long-term effects of our habitual thinking just might be the cause of how our body moves to a state of imbalance, or what we call disease? Is it likely, moment by moment, that we train our body to be unhealthy by our repeated thoughts and reactions? What if just by thinking, we cause our internal chemistry to be bumped out of normal range so often that the body's self-regulation system eventually redefines these abnormal states as normal, regular states? It's a subtle process, but maybe we just never gave it that much attention until now. My wish is that this book will offer a few suggestions for managing your own internal universe.
Since we are on the subject of attention, now I want you to pay attention, become aware, and listen. Can you hear the hum of the refrigerator? The sound of a car passing by your home? A distant dog barking? How about the resonance of your own heart beating? Just by shifting your attention in those moments, you caused a power surge and voltage flux of electricity in millions of brain cells right inside your own head. By choosing to modify your awareness, you changed your brain. Not only did you change how your brain was working moments before, but you changed how it will work in the next moment, and possibly for the rest of your life.
As you return your attention to these words on this page, you altered blood flow to various parts of your brain. You also set off a cascade of impulses, rerouting and modifying electrical currents to different brain areas. On a microscopic level, a multitude of diverse nerve cells ganged up chemically to 'hold hands' and communicate, in order to establish stronger long-term relationships with each other. Because of your shift in attention, the shimmering three-dimensional web of intricate neurological tissue that is your brain is firing in new combinations and sequences. You did that of your own free will, by changing your focus. You quite literally changed your mind.
As human beings, we have the natural ability to focus our awareness on anything. As we will learn, how and where we place our attention, what we place our attention on, and for how long we place it ultimately defines us on a neurological level. If our awareness is so mobile, why is it so hard to keep our attention on thoughts that might serve us? Right now, as you continue to concentrate and read this page, you might have forgotten about the pain in your back, the disagreement you had with your boss earlier today, and even what gender you are. It is where we place our attention and on what we place our attention that maps the very course of our state of being.
For example, we can, in any given moment, think about a bitter memory from our past that is only tattooed in the intimate folds of our gray matter and, like magic, it comes to life. We also have the option of attending to future anxieties and worries that do not readily exist until they are conjured up by our own mind. But to us, they are real. Our attention brings everything to life and makes real what was previously unnoticed or unreal.
Believe it or not, according to neuroscience, placing our attention on pain in the body makes pain exist, because the circuits in the brain that perceive pain become electrically activated. If we then put our full awareness on something other than pain, the brain circuits that process pain and bodily sensations can be literally turned off—presto, the pain goes away. But when we look to see whether the pain is gone for good, the corresponding brain circuits once again activate, causing us to feel the discomfort return. And if these brain circuits repeatedly fire, the connections between them become stronger. Thus by paying attention to pain on a daily basis, we are wiring ourselves neurologically to develop a more acute awareness of pain perception, because the related brain circuits become more enriched. Your own personal attention has that much of an effect on you. This could be one explanation to how pain, and even memories from our distant past, characterize us. What we repeatedly think about and where we focus our attention is what we neurologically become. Neuroscience finally understands that we can mold and shape the neurological framework of the self by the repeated attention we give to any one thing.
Everything that makes us up, the 'you' and the 'me'—our thoughts, our dreams, our memories, our hopes, our feelings, our secret fantasies, our fears, our skills, our habits, our pains, and our joys—is etched in the living latticework of our 100 billion brain cells. By the time you have read this far in the book, you have changed your brain permanently. If you learned even one bit of information, tiny brain cells have made new connections between them, and who you are is altered. The images that these words created in your mind have left footprints in the vast, endless fields of neurological landscape that is the identity called 'you.' This is because the 'you,' as a sentient being, is immersed and truly exists in the interconnected electrical web of cellular brain tissue. How your nerve cells are specifically arranged, or neurologically wired, based on what you learn, what you remember, what you experience, what you envision for yourself, what you do, and how you think about yourself, defines you as an individual.
You are a work in progress. The organization of brain cells that makes up who you are is constantly in flux. Forget the notion that the brain is static, rigid, and fixed. Instead, brain cells are continually remolded and reorganized by our thoughts and experiences. Neurologically, we are repeatedly changed by the endless stimuli in the world. Instead of imagining nerve cells as solid, inflexible, tiny sticks that are assembled together to make up your brain's gray matter, I invite you to see them as dancing patterns of delicate electric fibers in an animated web, connecting and disconnecting all the time. This is much closer to the truth of who you are.
The fact that you can read and comprehend the words on this page is due to the many interactions you have had throughout your life. Different people taught you, instructed you, and essentially changed your brain microscopically. If you accept this notion that your brain is still changing as you read these pages before you, you can easily see that your parents, teachers, neighbors, friends, family, and culture have contributed to who you are presently. It is our senses, through our diverse experiences, that write the story of who we are on the tablet of our mind. Our mastery is being the fine conductor of this remarkable orchestra of brain and mind; and as we have just seen, we can direct the affairs of mental activity.
Now, let's change your brain a little further. I want to teach you a new skill. Here are the instructions: Look at your right hand. Touch your thumb to your pinky finger, and then touch your thumb to your index finger. Next, touch your thumb to your ring finger, and then touch your thumb to your middle finger. Repeat the process until you can do it automatically. Now do it faster and make your fingers move more rapidly without mistake. Within a few minutes of paying attention, you should be able to master the action.
To learn the finger movements well, you had to rise out of your resting state, from relaxing and reading to a heightened state of conscious awareness. Voluntarily, you perked up your brain a little; you increased your level of awareness by your intentional free will. To succeed in memorizing this skill, you also had to increase your brain's level of energy. You turned up the dimmer switch to the light bulb in your brain that is constantly on, and it got brighter. You became motivated, and your choice to do this made your brain turn on.
Learning and performing the activity required you to amplify your level of awareness. By increasing blood flow and electrical activity to different areas in your brain, you could stay more present with what you were doing. You kept your brain from wandering to any other thought so that you could learn a new action, and that process took energy. You changed the way the arrangement of millions of brain cells fired in diverse patterns. Your intentional act took will, focus, and attention. The end result is that you are once again neurologically changed, not only by thinking a thought but also by demonstrating an action or a new skill.
In a moment, I want you to close your eyes. This time, instead of physically demonstrating the finger exercise, I want you to practice doing that same action in your mind. That is, remember what you did just moments before and mentally touch each finger the way I asked you to earlier: thumb to pinky finger, thumb to index finger, thumb to ring finger, and thumb to middle finger. Mentally rehearse the activity without physically doing it. Do it a few times in your mind, and then open your eyes.
Did you notice that while you were practicing in your mind, your brain seemed to imagine the entire sequence just as you actually did it? In fact, if you paid full attention to what you were rehearsing in your mind's eye by focusing on mentally practicing those finger actions, you fired the same set of nerve cells in the same part of your brain as if you were actually doing them. In other words, your brain did not know the difference between your doing the action or your remembering how to do the action. The act of mental rehearsal is a powerful way you can grow and mold new circuits in your brain.
Recent studies in neuroscience demonstrate that we can change our brain just by thinking. So ask yourself: What exactly do you spend most of your time mentally rehearsing, thinking about, and finally demonstrating? Whether you consciously or unconsciously fabricate your thoughts and actions, you are always affirming and reaffirming your neurological self as 'you.' Keep in mind that whatever you spend your time mentally attending to, that is what you are and what you will become. My hope is that this book will help you to understand why you are the way you are, how you got this way, and what it takes to change who you are through your intentional thoughts and actions.
You may ask at this point, What is it that allows us to voluntarily modify how the brain works? Where does the 'you' exist, and what allows you to turn on and off different brain circuits that then make you aware or unaware? The 'you' I'm talking about lives in a part of the brain called the frontal lobe, and without the frontal lobe, you are no longer 'you.' In evolution, the frontal lobe has been the last part of the brain to develop, just behind the forehead and right above the eyes. You hold the image of yourself in the frontal lobe, and what you hold in this special place determines how you interact in the world and perceive reality. The frontal lobe controls and regulates other, older parts of the brain. The frontal lobe navigates your future, controls your behavior, dreams of new possibilities, and guides you throughout life. It is the seat of your conscience. The frontal lobe is evolution's gift to you. This brain region is most adaptable to change and is the means by which you evolve your thoughts and actions. My desire is that this book helps you to use this newest, most recent part of your brain's anatomy to reshape your brain and your destiny.
Evolution, Change, and Neuroplasticity
We humans have a unique capacity to change. It is via the frontal lobe that we go beyond the preprogrammed behaviors that are genetically compartmentalized within the human brain, the recorded history of our species' past. Because our frontal lobe is more evolved than that of any other species on earth, we have tremendous adaptability, and with it come choice, intent, and full awareness. We possess an advanced bit of biotechnology that allows us to learn from our mistakes and shortcomings, to remember, and to modify our behavior so that we can do a better job in life.
It is true that a lot of human behavior is genetically preset. All life forms are preordained to be what they genetically express, and we must agree that a lot of who we are as human beings is predetermined by our genes. Yet we are not condemned to live out our existence without contributing some form of an evolutionary gift to future generations. We can add to our species' progress here on earth because unlike other species, we theoretically have the hardware to evolve our actions in one lifetime. The new behaviors we demonstrate will provide new experiences that should be encoded in our genes—both for now and for posterity. This leads us to consider: How many new experiences have we had lately?
The science of molecular biology is beginning to investigate the concept that, given the right signals, our genes are as equally changeable as our brain cells. The question is this: Can we provide the right type of stimulus to the cells of our body, either chemically or neurologically, to unlock their gigantic library of unused latent genetic information? In other words, by managing our thoughts and reactions, can we intentionally make the right chemical elixir to drive the brain and body from a constant state of stress to a state of regeneration and change? Can we escape from the limits of our biology and become more evolved human beings? It is my intent to show you that both theoretically and practically, there is a true biology to change—that is, by maintaining a change in your mind.
Is it possible for us to abandon the old model that implies that our genes create disease? Can we speculate beyond the most recent credo, which states that the environment turns on the genes that create disease? Is it possible that by managing our own internal environment, independent of the external environment, we can maintain or change our genes? Why is it that when two factory employees, working side by side for 20 years, are exposed to the same carcinogenic chemical, one manifests cancer, the other does not? Surely, there must be an element of internal order at work in this situation, one that supersedes the continuous environmental exposure to harmful chemicals known to genetically alter tissues.
A growing body of knowledge points to the effects of stress on our bodies. Living in stress is living in a primitive state of survival common to most species. When we live in survival, we limit our evolution, because the chemicals of stress will always drive our big-thinking brain to act equal to its chemical substrates. In effect, we become more animal-like and less divine. The chemicals of stress are the culprits that begin to alter our internal state and pull the trigger of cellular breakdown. In this book, we examine those effects on the body. It is the redundancy not of acute stress but of chronic long-term stress that weakens our bodies. My goal is to educate you about the effects of stress on the body, creating a level of self-awareness that causes you to stop and ask yourself, Is anyone or anything really worth it?
So often it seems as if we cannot shake those internal states of emotional turmoil. Our reliance on these chemical states drives us to experience confusion, unhappiness, aggression, and even depression, to name a few. Why do we cling to relationships and jobs that logically no longer work? Why does changing ourselves and our conditions in life seem so hard? There is something in us that causes us to act this way. How do we manage to endure it day after day? If it is the conditions of our jobs that we dislike so much, why don't we just find other ones? If it is something in our personal life that causes us to suffer, why don't we change it?
There is a sound answer for us. We choose to remain in the same circumstances because we have become addicted to the emotional state they produce and the chemicals that arouse that state of being. Of course, I know from experience that change of any type is difficult for most people. Far too many of us remain in situations that make us unhappy, feeling as if we have no choice but to suffer. I also know that many of us choose to remain in situations that produce the kind of troubled state of mind that plagues us for our entire lifetime. That we choose is one thing, but why we choose to live this way is another. We choose to live stuck in a particular mindset and attitude, partly because of genetics and partly because a portion of the brain (a portion that has become hardwired by our repeated thoughts and reactions) limits our vision of what's possible. Like a hostage onboard a hijacked flight, we feel as though we are strapped into a seat on a destination not of our choosing, and we fail to see all the other possibilities that are available to us.
I remember when I was growing up, my mother used to refer to one of her friends as the kind of person who wasn't happy unless she or he was unhappy. Not until the last few years, when I've intensely studied the brain and behavior, did I really understand on a fundamental, biochemical, and neurological level what she meant. This is one of the reasons I wrote the book.
The title Evolve Your Brain may have appealed to your belief in human potential, and it's probable you are interested in improving yourself. Another likely reason you picked up this book is that, to one degree or another, you are unhappy with the circumstances of your life and you want to change. Change is a powerful word and it is completely feasible, if you choose it.
When it comes to evolution, change is the only element that is universal, or consistent, to all species here on earth. Essentially, to evolve is to change, by adapting to the environment. Our environment as human beings is everything that makes up our lives. It is all of the complex circumstances that involve our loved ones, our social status, where we live, what we do for a living, how we react to our parents and children, and even the times we live in. But as we will learn, to change is to be greater than the environment.
When we change something in our life, we have to make it different than it would be if we left it alone. To change is to become different; it means that we are no longer who we used to be. We have modified how we think, what we do, what we say, how we act, and who we are being. Personal change takes an intentional act of will, and it usually means that something was making us uncomfortable enough to want to do things differently. To evolve is to overcome the conditions in our life by changing something about ourselves.
We can change (and thus, evolve) our brain, so that we no longer fall into those repetitive, habitual, and unhealthy reactions that are produced as a result of our genetic inheritance and our past experiences. You probably picked up this book because you are drawn to the possibility that you may be able to break out of routine. You may want to learn how you can use the brain's natural capacity of neuroplasticity—the ability to rewire and create new neural circuits at any age—to make substantial changes in the quality of your life. Evolving your brain is what this book is about.
Our ability to be neuroplastic is equivalent to our ability to change our mind, to change ourselves, and to change our perception of the world around us; that is, our reality. In order to accomplish that feat, we have to change how the brain automatically and habitually works. Try out this simple example of your brain's plasticity. Take a look at Figure 1.1. What do you see? For most people, the first thing that comes to mind is a duck or a goose. It's pretty simple, right?
In this example, the familiar form of the picture in front of you causes your brain to recognize a pattern in the shape of some type of bird. Just above your ears, the temporal lobes (the brain's center for decoding and recognizing objects) lock into a memory. The picture activates a few hundred million neurological circuits, which fire in a unique sequence and pattern throughout specific parts of your brain, and you are reminded of a duck or goose. Let's just say that the memory imprinted in your brain cells of what a duck or a goose looks like matches the picture before you, and you are able to recall the word 'goose' or 'duck.' This is how we interpret reality all the time. It's sensory pattern recognition.
Now let's get neuroplastic for a moment. What if I told you to no longer see a bird, but to see a rabbit instead? For you to accomplish this feat, your frontal lobe would have to force your brain to 'cool off' the circuits that are related to birds and to reorganize its circuitry to imagine a rabbit instead of a feathered creature with an undying affection for water. The ability to make the brain forgo its habitual internal wiring and fire in new patterns and combinations is how neuroplasticity allows us to change.
Just like the example in Figure 1.1, to break out of a habit of thinking, doing, feeling, perceiving, or behaving is what allows you to see the world—and see yourself—differently. And the best part of this experiment in plasticity is that your brain permanently changed; it neurologically tracked a new way to fire off circuits, by making new neurological patterns work in a different fashion. You changed your mind by altering the brain's typical firing pattern and by strengthening new chains of brain cell connections, and thus who you are changed as well. For our purposes, the words change, neuroplasticity, and evolution have similar meanings. The aim of this book is for you to see that change and evolution are all about breaking the habit of being the 'you.'
What I've discovered in studying the brain and its effects on behavior for the last 20 years has made me enormously hopeful about human beings and our ability to change. This is contrary to what we have long thought. Until recently, the scientific literature has led us to believe that we are doomed by genetics, are hobbled by conditioning, and should resign ourselves that the proverbial thinking about old dogs and new tricks has scientific validity.
Here is what I mean. In the evolutionary process, most species that are subjected to harsh environmental conditions (predators, climate/temperature, food availability, social pecking orders, procreation opportunities, and so on) adapt over millions of years, by overcoming the changes and challenges in their external surroundings. Whether they develop camouflage or faster legs to outrun the meat eater, changes in behavior are reflected in physical, genetic biology through evolution. Our evolutionary history is innately encoded within us.
Therefore, exposure to diverse and changing conditions causes certain more adaptable creatures to begin to acclimate to their environment; by changing themselves on an innate level, they ensure their continuity as a species. Over generations of trial and error, the repeated exposure to difficult conditions causes those biological organisms that do not become extinct to slowly adapt, eventually change, and finally alter their genetics. This is the slow, linear process of evolution inherent to all species. The environment changes, the challenges are met, behavior and actions are altered to adapt, genes encode the changes, and evolution follows by recording the change for the future of the species. The organism's lineage is now more suited to endure the changes in its world. As a result of thousands of years of evolution, the physical expression of an organism is equal to or greater than the conditions of the environment. Evolution stores the enduring memories of generations untold. Genes encode the wisdom of a species by keeping track of its changes.
The prize of such efforts will be inborn behavior patterns such as instincts, natural skills, habituations, innate drives, ritualistic behaviors, temperament, and heightened sensory perception. We tend to think that what is genetically dealt to us becomes an automatic program we can't help but live by. Once our genes are activated, either by the timing of some genetic program or by the conditioning of the environment (nature versus nurture), we are wired to behave in certain distinct ways. It is true that our genetics have a powerful influence on who we are, as if we are living by some unseen hand that is leading us to predictable habits and innate propensities. Therefore, overcoming challenges in the environment means that we not only have to demonstrate a will greater than our circumstances, but also must break old habits by releasing the encoded memories of past experiences that may be dated and that no longer apply to our current conditions. To evolve, then, is to break the genetic habits we are prone to and to use what we learned as a species as only a platform to stand on, from which to advance further.
To change and evolve is not a comfortable process for any species. To overcome our innate propensities, alter our genetic programs, and adapt to new environmental circumstances requires will and determination. Let's face it, changing is inconvenient for any creature unless it is seen as a necessity. To relinquish the old and embrace the new is a big risk.
The brain is structured, both macroscopically and microscopically, to absorb and engage novel information, and then store it as routine. When we no longer learn new things or we stop changing old habits, we are left only with living in routine. But the brain is not designed to just stop learning. When we stop upgrading the brain with new information, it becomes hardwired, riddled with automatic programs of behavior that no longer support evolution.
Adaptability is the ability to change. We are so smart and capable. We can, in one lifetime, learn new things, break old habits, change our beliefs and our perceptions, overcome difficult circumstances, master skills, and mysteriously, become different beings. Our big brains are the instruments that allow us to advance at such an enormous pace. For us as human beings, it seems that it is just a question of choice. If evolution is our contribution to the future, then our free will is how we initiate the process.
Evolution, though, must start with changing the individual self. To entertain the idea of starting with yourself, think of the first creature—say, a member of a pack with a structured group consciousness—who decided to break from the current behavior of the whole. On some level, the creature must have intuited that to act in new ways and to break from the normal behavior of the species might ensure its own survival and possibly, the future of its kin. Who knows? Entire new species might even have been created this way. To leave behind what is considered normal amidst social convention and to create a new mind requires being an individual—for any species. Being uncompromising to one's vision of a new and improved self and abandoning one's prior ways of being may also be encoded in living tissue for new generations; history remembers individuals for such elegance. True evolution, then, is using the genetic wisdom of past experiences as raw materials for new challenges.
What this book offers is a scientifically based alternative to the model of thought that told us our brains are essentially hardwired with unchangeable circuitry—that we possess, or better put, that we are possessed by, a kind of neuro-rigidity that is reflected in the inflexible and habitual type of behavior we often see exhibited. The truth is that we are marvels of flexibility, adaptability, and a neuroplasticity that allows us to reformulate and repattern our neural connections and produce the kinds of behaviors that we want. We have far more power to alter our own brain, our behavior, our personality, and ultimately our reality than previously thought possible. I know these truths because I have seen for myself and have read about how certain individuals have risen above their present circumstances, stood up to the onslaught of reality as it presented itself to them, and made significant changes.
For example, the Civil Rights movement would not have had its far-reaching effects if a true individual like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., had not, despite all the evidence around him (Jim Crow laws, separate but equal accommodations, snarling attack dogs, and powerful fire hoses), believed in the possibility of another reality. Although Dr. King phrased it in his famous speech as a 'dream,' what he was really promoting (and living) was a better world where everyone was equal. How was he able to do that? He decided to place a new idea in his mind about freedom for himself and a nation, and that idea was more important to him than the conditions in his external world. He was uncompromising in holding fast to that vision. Dr. King was unwilling to alter his thoughts, his actions, his behavior, his speech, and his message in response to anything outside of him. He never changed his internal picture of a new environment in spite of his external environment, even if it meant insult to his body. It was the power of his vision that convinced millions of the justness of his cause. The world has changed because of him. And he's not alone.
Countless others have altered history through comparable efforts. Millions more have altered their personal destinies in a similar way. We can all create a new life for ourselves and share it with others. As we learned, we have the kind of hardware in our brain that allows us certain unique privileges. We can keep a dream or ideal in our mind for extended periods of time despite external environmental circumstances. We also have the capacity to rewire our brain, because we are capable of making a thought more real to us than anything else in the universe. Ultimately, that is the point of this book.
A Story of Personal Transformation
I want to tell you a little bit about an experience I had 20 years ago that inspired me to investigate the power of the brain to alter our life. In 1986, I was 23 years old, had opened my own chiropractic practice in Southern California less than half a year earlier, and was already seeing more than a full patient load every week. My practice was in La Jolla, a hotbed of weekend warriors and world-class athletes who trained feverishly and took care of their bodies with the same fervor. I specialized in treating them. While still attending chiropractic college, I had studied sports medicine extensively in continuing education seminars. After I graduated, I found a niche and filled it.
I was successful because I had a lot in common with these driven patients. I too was driven, and I was focused. Like them, I felt I could meet every challenge and succeed. I'd managed to graduate with very good grades a year and a half ahead of schedule. Now I was living the good life, with an office along the beach on La Jolla Boulevard and a BMW. You know, the California image.
My life consisted of working, running, swimming, cycling, eating, and sleeping. The physical activities were a part of triathlon training—the eating and sleeping were necessary but often neglected functions. I could see the future spread in front of me like a banquet table featuring one delicious choice after another.
For the first three months of that year, I'd been focused on a goal—a triathlon in Palm Springs on April 12th.
The race didn't start off well. Because twice as many entrants showed up than were expected, the organizers couldn't let everyone start at the same time; instead, they split the field into two groups. By the time I arrived at the staging area to check in, one group was already standing calf-deep in the lake, tugging at goggles and caps, getting ready to start.
As one of the volunteers used a marker to put a number on my leg, I asked a race official when my group was scheduled to start. 'In maybe twenty minutes,' he said. Before I even had a chance to say thanks, a starter's gun went off across the lake. He looked at me and shrugged, 'Guess you're starting now.'
I couldn't believe it, but I recovered instantly, set up my gear in the transition area, and sprinted barefoot a half a mile around one end of the lake to get to the start. Though I was a few minutes behind the rest of my group, I was soon among the main pack and their tangled mass of churning limbs. As I stroked along, I had to remind myself that the race was against the clock and we still had a long way to go. A mile later, I splashed through the shallows, every muscle taut and taxed from the exertion. I was feeling good mentally, and the bike portion of the race (in this case, 26 miles) had always been my strength.
I ran to the transition area and hopped into my riding shorts. In a few seconds, I was running with my bike toward the road. Within a few hundred yards, I was really clipping along, quickly passing a host of riders. I eased back onto the seat to make myself as aerodynamic as possible and just kept churning my legs. My progress the first ten miles was rapid and exhilarating. I'd seen the course map and knew that an upcoming turn was a bit tricky—we'd have to merge with vehicular traffic. I eyed the course spotter, gave the brakes a few short squeezes to scrub off some speed, and after I saw a volunteer waving me on, I shifted to the biggest gear, hoping to keep momentum going.
I was no more than 20 feet around the curve when something flashed in my periphery. The next thing I knew, I was flying, separated from my bike by a red SUV traveling at 55 mph. The Bronco ate my bicycle, and then it tried to eat me. I landed squarely on my butt, and then bounced and rolled uncontrollably. Thankfully, the driver of the vehicle realized something was wrong. When she stopped abruptly and jammed on her brakes, I continued to roll almost 20 feet on the pavement. Amazingly, all of this took place in about two seconds.
As I lay on my back listening to the sounds of people screaming and a hornet's-nest buzzing of bikes passing by, I could feel warm blood pooling inside my rib cage. I knew the acute pain I was feeling couldn't be from soft tissue injury like a sprain or a strain. Something was seriously wrong. I also knew that some of my skin and the road surface had traded places. My body's innate intelligence was beginning to take over as I surrendered into the pain. I lay on the ground, trying to breathe steadily and stay calm.
I scanned my whole body with my mind, making sure my arms and legs were still present and moveable—they were. After 20 minutes that seemed like four hours, an ambulance raced me to John F. Kennedy Hospital for evaluation. What I remember most about the ambulance ride is that three technicians were futilely trying to find my veins for an IV drip. However, I was in shock. During this process, the body's intelligence moves large volumes of blood into the internal organs and away from the limbs. Also, I could tell I was bleeding quite a bit internally—I could feel the blood pooling along my spine. There was very little blood in my extremities at the time; essentially, I became a pincushion for the technicians.
At the hospital I was given blood tests, urine tests, X-rays, CT scans, and a gamut of other tests that took almost 12 hours to complete. After three unsuccessful attempts to remove gravel from my body, the hospital attendants gave up. Frustrated, confused, and in pain, I thought this must be some bad dream I had created.
Finally, the orthopedic surgeon, the hospital's medical director, performed his orthopedic and neurological examination. He could determine no neurological defects. Next, he rattled my X-rays into the viewer. One in particular caught my attention—the lateral thoracic view, a side view of my mid-spine. I saw the vertebrae: T-8, T-9, T-10, T-11, T-12, and L-1 clearly compressed, fractured, and deformed. He gave me his diagnosis. 'Multiple compression fractures of the thoracic spine with the T-8 vertebra more than 60 percent collapsed.'
I thought to myself, It could be worse. I could easily have had my spinal cord severed and been rendered dead or paralyzed. Then he put up my CT scans, showing several bone fragments on my spinal cord around the fractured T-8 vertebra. I knew what his next statement would be. As a matter of fact, we could have said it together. 'The normal procedure in cases like this is complete thoracic laminectomy with Harrington rod surgery.'
I had seen several videotaped laminectomies performed in surgical settings. I knew it was a radical surgery in which all the very back parts of the vertebral segments are sawed off and removed at each corresponding segment. The surgeon employs a toolbox of carpenter's blades and mini circular saws to cut away the bone and leave a smooth working surface. Next, the surgeon inserts the Harrington rods, which are orthopedic stainless steel devices. These attach with screws and clamps on both sides of the spinal column to stabilize the severe spinal fractures or abnormal curvatures that are the result of a trauma. Finally, new bone fragments are collected from scrapings of the hip bones and packed over the rods.
Without reacting, I asked the doctor how long the rods would have to be. 'Eight to twelve inches, from the base of your neck to the base of your spine,' he said. He then explained to me how he thought the procedure was really quite safe. In parting, he told me to pick a day within the next three days to have the surgery. I waved good-bye and thanked him.
Still not satisfied, though, I asked for the best neurologist in the area to visit me. After his examination and X-ray study, he bluntly told me that there was a greater than 50 percent chance I would never walk again if I decided against surgery. He explained that the T-8 vertebra was compressed like a wedge—smaller in the front of the column and larger toward the back of the column. If I stood up, he warned, the spine could not support the weight of my torso and my backbone would collapse. Apparently, the abnormal angle of the T-8 vertebra would alter the normal weight-bearing capacity of the spinal segments. According to this specialist, the deformity created a structural imbalance that would cause the spinal bone fragments to move into the spinal cord area and cause instant paralysis. The paralysis would manifest below the fracture of T-8.
I would be paralyzed from the chest down. The doctor added that he had never heard of a patient in the United States opting against the surgery. He mentioned some other options that doctors in Europe had at their disposal, but he knew very little about them and couldn't recommend them.
The next morning, through a fog of painkillers and sleeplessness, I realized I was still in the hospital. As I opened my eyes, I saw Dr. Paul Burns, my old roommate from chiropractic college, sitting right in front of me. Paul, who practiced in Honolulu, had received word of my condition, left his practice to fly to San Diego, drove to Palm Springs, and was there for me when I awoke that morning.
Paul and I decided that it would be better to transfer me by ambulance from Palm Springs to La Jolla's Scripps Memorial Hospital, so that I could be near my home in San Diego. The ride was long and painful. I lay strapped into a gurney, the ambulance's tires transferring every imperfection in the road into a jolt of pain somewhere on my body. I felt helpless. How was I ever going to get through this?
When I arrived in my hospital room, I was immediately introduced to the leading orthopedic surgeon in Southern California at that time. He was middle-aged, successful, good-looking, very credible, and sincere. He shook my hand and told me there was no time to spare. He looked into my eyes and said, 'You have twenty-four degrees collapsed kyphosis (an abnormal forward curvature). The CT scans show the cord to be bruised and touching up against the bone fragments that were pushed backwards from the volume of the vertebral segment's columnar shape. The bone mass of each vertebra had to go somewhere when it was compressed, and the normal column shape of each vertebra became more like a tumbled stone. You could be paralyzed at any minute. My recommendation is immediate Harrington rod surgery. If we wait more than four days, a radical surgical procedure will be necessary, in which we open the body from the front, cut the chest open and also the back, placing the rods on both sides, front, and back. The success rate for the more radical option is about 50 percent.'
I understood the reason that this decision had to be made within four days. The body's innate intelligence directs strings of calcium to be laid down in the bone to begin the healing process as soon as possible. If we waited longer than the four days, the surgeons would have to work through and around that
natural healing process. The doctor assured me that if I chose to have surgery in less than four days, I could be walking in a month to two months and back in my practice seeing patients.
Somehow I just couldn't hastily agree and mindlessly sign away my future.
By this time, I was in tremendous conflict and I was really quite floored. He was so sure of himself, as if there were no other options. I asked him though, 'What if I decide not to have the surgery?' He calmly replied, 'I do not recommend it. It will take three to six months for the body to heal before you will possibly be able to walk. The normal procedure is strict bed rest in the prone position during the whole time of recovery. Then we would have to cast you in a full body brace and you would be required to wear it constantly for six months to one year. Without the surgery, it is my professional opinion that the moment you try to stand up, paralysis will ensue. The instability of T-8 will cause the forward curvature to increase and sever the spinal cord. If you were my son, you would be on the operating table right now.'
I lay there accompanied by eight chiropractors, all of whom were my closest friends, along with my father, who had flown in from the East Coast. No one said a word for a long time. Everyone waited for me to speak. I never spoke. Eventually, my friends smiled, either embraced my arm or patted me on the shoulder, then respectfully filed out of the room. As everyone left, save my father, I became acutely aware of the unanimous relief my friends felt to know that they were not in my position. Their silence was too deafening for me to ignore.
What followed during the next three days was the worst of human suffering: indecision. I repeatedly looked at every one of those diagnostic films, reconsulted with everyone, and finally decided that one more opinion couldn't hurt.
The next day I waited with anticipation until the last surgeon arrived. Immediately, he was practically attacked by my colleagues, who had 25 questions apiece. They disappeared for 45 minutes to consult with the doctor, and then returned with the X-rays. This final doctor said basically the same thing as the others, but offered a different surgical procedure: six-inch rods to be placed in the spine for one year. Then they would be removed and permanently replaced with four-inch rods.
Now I had the additional option of two surgeries, instead of one. I laid there in a trance watching his lips move as he talked, but my attention was now somewhere else. I really didn't want to pretend that I was interested in his prognosis by unconsciously nodding to ease his discomfort. His voice began to recede further and further away as time passed. As a matter of fact, there was no perception of time at this point. I was entranced and my mind was far from that hospital room. I was thinking about living with a permanent disability and, quite possibly, continuous pain. Images of patients that I had attended over my years of residency and practice who opted for Harrington rod surgery earlier in their life rifled through my mind. They lived every day of their life on addictive medications, always trying to escape a brutal torment that never really left them.
I began to wonder, though. What if I had a patient in my office that I x-rayed and attended with similar findings as mine? What would I tell him? Probably to proceed with the surgery, since it was the safest option if he wanted to walk again. But this was me, and I could never imagine living with such a handicap while being partially dependent on others. The thought made me feel sick in the deepest part of my gut. That natural immortality that comes with youth, great health, and a particular station in life began to escape me like a brisk breeze moving down an open corridor. I felt empty and vulnerable.
I focused again on the situation at hand. The doctor loomed over me, all six feet, two inches and 300 pounds of him. I asked him, 'Don't you think that placing Harrington rods in the thoracic spine and most of the lumbar spine would limit the normal motion of my back?' Without even skipping a beat, he responded by assuring me 'not to worry,' because according to him, there was normally no movement in the thoracic spine and therefore my normal mobility would be unaffected by the rods.
Everything changed for me in that moment. I had studied and taught martial arts for many years of my life. My spine was very flexible and super-mobile. During part of my undergraduate studies and throughout most of my time at chiropractic college, I had disciplined myself to do three hours of yoga a day. Every morning, I woke up before the sun at 3:55 a.m. and participated in intense yoga classes before my classroom work started. I have to admit that during yoga practice, I learned more about the spine and the body than all of the hours spent in anatomy and physiology classes. I even had a yoga studio that I taught at and managed in San Diego. At the time of my injury, yoga was part of a physical rehabilitation program for my patients. I knew that there was far more flexibility in that part of the spine than this latest doctor thought.
I also knew from experiencing my own body that I had quite a bit of motion in my thoracic spine. The issue now became a question of relativity. As the doctor and I spoke, I glanced at Dr. Burns, who had studied yoga and martial arts with me while we were in college. My colleague moved his spine in six different serpentine planes while standing behind the surgeon's back. Witnessing this demonstration, I realized that I already knew all the answers to the questions I was asking, because I was an expert on the spine, both from my formal education as well as what I had personally experienced.
The Inner Doctor at Work
I also knew that on some level, I trusted that the body heals itself. This is the chiropractic philosophy, that our innate intelligence gives life to the body. We simply have to get our educated mind out of the way and give a greater intelligence a chance to do what it does best.
Holistic practitioners understand that this innate intelligence runs through the central nervous system from the midbrain and the other lower subcortical regions of the brain to the body. This happens all day, every day, and that process had already been healing me. In fact, it was giving life to everything I did and keeping every process running, from digesting my food to pumping my blood. I wasn't always aware of those processes. Most of them took place in the background, in a subconscious realm, separate from my conscious awareness. Even though I had an educated, thinking neocortex that thought it was making the decisions for my body, in truth, the so-called lower centers of the brain had already started the healing process. I simply had to surrender to the intelligence that was already and always actively working within me, to let it work for me. However, I also reminded myself that my body was performing these tasks at a rudimentary level—the subconscious realm works at healing, but only to the extent that our genetic programming allows it to. I needed to aim for something more than that.
I now recognized that I was looking through a different window than the four surgeons; I lived in a realm totally unknown to them. I began to feel in control again, principled.
The next day, I checked out of the hospital. A very upset surgeon told my father I was mentally unstable from the trauma and urged him to seek a psychological evaluation for me. But something inside of me just knew I was making the right choice. As I left the hospital, I held on to one thought: My knowledge of the power within me that is constantly giving life to my body would heal me if I could make contact with it and direct it. As most chiropractic physicians would say, 'The power that made the body, heals the body.'
Transported by ambulance, I arrived at the house of two close friends of mine. For the next three months, my room was a beautiful A-frame: multi-windowed, sky-lit, bright, and spacious, as opposed to the dim stuffy hospital quarters. I began to relax and let my mind expand without looking back at my choice. I had to focus only on my healing, and not let any other thoughts and emotions rooted in fears or doubts distract me from my recovery. My decision was final.
I decided I needed a game plan if I was to heal this injury completely. I would eat only a raw-food diet, and only small amounts. In this way, the energy required to digest large cooked meals would be preserved for healing. Next to sex, digestion uses up the largest amount of the body's energy. Also, by having the enzymes already in the nutritional matrix of live raw foods, it would hasten my digestion and take less energy for the body to process and eliminate.
Next, I spent three hours a day, morning, noon, and evening, in self-hypnosis and meditation. I visualized, with the joy of being totally healed, that my spine was fully repaired. I mentally reconstructed my spine, building each segment. I stared at hundreds of pictures of spines to help me perfect my mental imagery. My focused thoughts would help direct the greater intelligence already at work to heal me.
When I was in undergraduate school and in chiropractic college, I had become fascinated with the study of hypnosis. This interest was triggered by having two roommates who frequently sleepwalked and sleeptalked. I witnessed a lot of these incidents. They piqued my curiosity about the powers of the subconscious mind and eventually about hypnosis itself. I read every available book on hypnosis. My interests were also self-motivated—I wanted to be able to go to class, never take any notes, and remember everything. For two years, on the weekends and during many evenings, I attended a school called Hypnosis Motivation Institute in Norcross, Georgia. By the time I graduated from chiropractic school, I had studied over 500 hours in clinical hypnosis developed by the 'father of modern hypnosis,' John Kappas, Ph.D.
While I was still in chiropractic college, I became licensed and certified as a clinical hypnotherapist, and I developed a part-time, private hypnotherapy practice at a holistic healing center outside Atlanta, Georgia. Although back then I did not understand how the mind works in the same way I do today, I did directly witness the power of the subconscious mind when working with several different health conditions. For example, after inducing an altered state in my patients, I saw an anorgasmic woman experience a clinical orgasm without physical touch, a 20-year smoker completely quit in one session, and a client with chronic dermatitis and rashes completely heal his skin in one hour.
I therefore began my recovery regimen with the simple idea that the healing of my injury was completely possible because I had personally witnessed the ability of the subconscious mind. Now it was my turn to put it to the test.
I also set up a schedule for people to visit me twice daily for one-hour segments, once in the morning before lunch and once before dinner. I had them place their hands over the broken part of my spine. Friends, patients, doctors, family, and even people I didn't know contributed by intentionally laying their hands on my back and sharing the healing effects of their energy.
Finally, I realized that in order for the proper amounts of calcium to be laid down in those broken bones, I needed to apply some gravitational stress on the damaged segments. As a bone develops or heals, the natural force of gravity acts as a stimulant to change the normal electric charge of the outside of the bone, so that by polarity, the positively charged calcium molecule will be drawn to the negatively charged surface of bone. This concept made total sense to me. But nowhere in any literature could I find such reasoning applied to the treatment and management of compression fractures.
That absence of previously published research didn't stop me, though.
I instructed a friend of mine to build an incline board, with a base for my feet to rest on and to give me support. Each day, I slowly and carefully rolled from my bed onto the board, and I was brought outside. I was placed on an angle of two degrees above horizontal to start conservatively stressing my spine. Each day we increased the angle. By the sixth week, I was at 60 degrees, pain-free. This feat was amazing, considering that I was not supposed to be out of bed for three to six months.
Six weeks went by, and I felt strong, confident, and happy. We hired a doctor to run my office, and I managed it by phone.
I decided after a certain point that mobility, not immobility as the medical profession prescribes, would be an asset to my recovery. The time had come to start swimming. I reasoned that water would decrease the weight of gravity on my spine and allow me to move freely. The house I was living in had an indoor/outdoor pool that was ideal. I was placed in a very tight wet suit and carried in a lounge chair toward the semiheated pool. My heart was racing as fast as my mind was. I hadn't been in a vertical position for so long. At first, I just floated horizontally in the lounge chair, but I gradually moved into the vertical position for the first time, holding onto a swing built for my support. I just floated there rigidly, rising and falling in the waves my movement created. By floating upright in the water instead of standing, I actually decreased the weight my spine bore by lessening gravity. This allowed me to be vertical with minimal pressure on my healing spine.
From then on, I swam every day, initially just paddling with my feet. Within a few days, I was swimming like a fish, exercising all my muscles. I loved the new freedom of swimming, floating vertically in the pool, and even playing a little. If only the surgeons could have seen this! My body responded amazingly.
At eight weeks, I began crawling on dry land. I felt that if I imitated the movements of an infant, I could develop similarly and eventually stand. To regain and maintain mobility, I practiced yoga daily to supply continuous stretching of my connective tissue. Most of the postures were done lying down. At nine weeks, I was sitting up, taking baths, and finally using the toilet. Ah yes, the simple things!
That explains what I did with my body. But I had another crucial experience that influenced my mind, and the eventual positive outcome of my choice. By week six, I was getting a little antsy. Lying in the sun or in bed all day sounds great, if you are doing it voluntarily and can easily get up from that prone position any time you want. Obviously, that wasn't my case. I was looking for whatever kind of mental stimulation I could find. Concentrating all day on the spine and its individual components wasn't possible—or desirable. I needed brain breaks.
One day, during that first six weeks, I saw a book sitting alone on a bookshelf. I was intrigued by its mysterious blank cover so I asked a friend who was over at the time to hand it to me. I flipped the white book over several times in search of its title but couldn't find one. Its author was Ramtha, and it was published by a group affiliated with the Ramtha School of Enlightenment (RSE). I opened Ramtha: The White Book and began to read, unaware of how influential this book would be to me.
I had been raised a Catholic, but I wasn't what anyone would consider a particularly religious or even spiritual person. I believed in the body's innate intelligence. I knew that there was a force animating each and every one of us, and I knew that force/intelligence was far greater than anything we humans possessed. I held that there is a spiritual element within everyone but was not drawn to a rigid, hierarchical kind of church or any dogma. I believed that humans are far more capable than we know. I couldn't say that I was a formal believer in any one kind of spiritual practice. I certainly didn't belong to a church that had any kind of denomination attached to it, but I did trust in something tangible, real, and actively at work in my life.
Thus I was in one sense predisposed to be more open-minded than most about what I was soon to read in Ramtha: The White Book. I started reading it out of curiosity, but even after the first few pages, the subconscious part of me had nudged my intellect, telling me to pay attention to what I was reading. The words were making sense on a lot of levels. By the time I got to the part in the book that explained how thoughts and emotions create our reality, the idea of superconsciousness, I was completely hooked. I finished it 36 hours later. I was a man in the middle of changing, and the book greatly accelerated the rate of my change.
Ramtha: The White Book was the perfect catalyst, crystallizing much of what I had been thinking about and experiencing for most of my adult life. It answered many questions I had about human potential, life and death, and the divinity of human beings, just to name a few. The book validated many of the decisions I had made, particularly my risky choice to forego surgery. It challenged the boundaries of what I knew to be true intellectually, and it raised me to the next level of awareness and understanding about the nature of reality. I understood better than ever before that our thoughts affect not only our body but also our entire life. The concept of superconsciousness was not only the science of mind over matter, but also the idea of mind influencing the nature of all reality. Not bad for a book that was just sitting on an empty shelf collecting dust!
For a long time, I had been interested in the unconscious, my experiences with hypnotherapy being the most obvious component of that interest. But through the teachings of Ramtha, my exposure to the idea of superconsciousness helped me understand that I was responsible for everything that happened in my life—even my injury. My body had gone from being in a 100 mph fast lane to a dead stop. There were bound to be some effects from that, but most important, I began to see the perfection of my whole creation. I was more profoundly affected by this slowdown than I could have ever imagined—I had to rethink everything that I knew. As a result, I was enriched.
I made a deal with myself. If my body was able to be healed and I could walk again without being paralyzed or in pain, I was going to spend a major portion of my life studying this phenomenon of mind over matter and how consciousness creates reality. I became more interested in learning how to consciously and thoughtfully control my future. That's when I made the decision to enroll at the Ramtha School of Enlightenment, to become more involved in the teachings.
At nine and one-half weeks, I got up, and then walked right back into my life. At ten weeks, I returned to work, seeing patients and enjoying my freedom. No body cast, no deformity, no paralysis. At twelve weeks, I was lifting weights and continuing to rehabilitate. I had been fitted for a body cast six weeks after the accident, but I only wore it once, when I first began walking, for about one hour. At this point in my recovery, I didn't need it.
It is now more than 20 years since the date of my injury. I find it interesting that although 80 percent of the American population complain of some type of back pain, I have hardly ever had pain in my spine since my recovery.
I often wonder, if I hadn't made the choice for my own natural healing, where I would be today. Some of you may ask, was it worth the risk? When I glance back to imagine the consequences of making a different choice in my past, I quietly exalt in my present freedom. During that brief time in my life, I think I became more inspired about the process of healing the mind and the body than I could have ever imagined if I had opted for conventional surgery.
In all honesty, I truly don't know if what I experienced was a miracle. But I made good on my promise to explore as fully as possible the phenomenon of spontaneous healing. Spontaneous healing refers to the body's repairing itself or ridding itself of disease without traditional medical interventions like surgery or drugs.
Through 17 years as a student and the seven years I spent as a teacher at the Ramtha School of Enlightenment, I have gone well beyond the original boundaries of that inquiry. I have been inspired and enriched by those experiences. This book would not be possible without the learning and experiences I had at RSE. For me, the school offers the most complete body of knowledge I have ever studied. Evolve Your Brain, then, is an attempt to put together an accurate account of my own experiences, some of the teachings of Ramtha, as well as my own research.
For the last seven years, Ramtha has at times gently nudged me in the direction of sharing this information, my experiences, and my personal research; at other times he has wheedled, cajoled, and pushed me in this direction. This book represents my coming to terms with all the various influences in my life, having a firmer grasp now on the scientific concepts than I did seven years ago, and having committed myself to giving back in whatever proportion to what I have been blessed to receive. Truth be told, Evolve Your Brain could not have been written seven years ago—the research that is so fundamental to the scope of this book simply was not ready. I was not ready. I am today.
I also know that my choice many years ago to forego surgery has led me to where I am now. My research, my scientific interests, and my livelihood are centered around healings of all types. I have spent the last seven years looking into how believing in a single thought, independent of the circumstances, calls upon a greater mind and takes people to an immense and wonderful future. When I lecture on all the ingredients it takes for a person to turn around his or her condition, I truly feel blessed that I can contribute to the layperson's understanding of the brain and of the power our thoughts have to shape our life.
Aside from dealing with physical ailments, this book is also intended to address another kind of affliction besides physical pain—emotional addiction. In the last several years, as I've traveled widely, lectured, and conducted independent research into the latest evidence in neurophysiology, I've come to understand that what was once theory now has practical applications for us to heal our own self-inflicted emotional wounds. The methods I suggest are not a pie-in-the-sky, wouldn't-it-be-wonderful, self-help miracle cure. Be assured, this book is grounded in cutting-edge science.
We've all experienced emotional addiction at some point in our life. Among its symptoms are lethargy, a lack of ability to focus, a tremendous desire to maintain routine in our daily life, the inability to complete cycles of action, a lack of new experiences and emotional responses, and the persistent feeling that one day is the same as the next and the next.
How is it possible to end this cycle of negativity? The answer, of course, lies in you. And in this case, in a very specific part of you. Through an understanding of the various subjects we will explore in this book and a willingness to apply some specific principles, you can heal yourself emotionally by altering the neural networks in your brain. For a long time, scientists believed that the brain was hardwired, meaning that change is impossible and that the system of responses and tendencies you inherited from your family is your destiny. But in fact, the brain possesses elasticity, an ability to shut down old pathways of thought and form new ones, at any age, at any time. Moreover, it can do so relatively quickly, especially compared to the usual evolutionary models in which time is measured in generations and eons and not in weeks.
As I'm beginning to learn and as neuroscience is beginning to acknowledge:
• Our thoughts matter.
• Our thoughts literally become matter.
©2007. Joe Dispenza. All rights reserved. Reprinted from Evolve Your Brain : The Science of Changing Your Mind. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the publisher. Publisher: Health Communications, Inc., 3201 SW 15th Street, Deerfield Beach, FL 33442.