Life is suffering. Buddhist thought tells you so. Once you get that right, you make it your purpose to remedy that suffering for yourself, your loved ones, and the world.

The stories you read and you watch depict some kind of suffering. We focus on what’s wrong, and it sells — it is a known fact among fiction writers and journalists that good news doesn’t sell, but bad news, and stories of pain, suffering, tense plots, unmet expectations, frustrations and losses make good articles, books and movies. Tragedies, stories of war, of injustice, and of every kind of suffering receive the highest ratings.

How does listening and watching these stories impact your psyche?

You already had, and maybe still have, your share of suffering. And you have also been having your share of joys, fulfillment, and triumph. But what makes a happy ending story of your life? Clearly, a good death — death is the end of this life’s journey. Everything in between your birth and your death are mere episodes, and they end where you choose to end each one of them, and that peak of the most intense suffering, or at the culminating joy.

Happy ending stories, from fairy tales to Hollywood movies, are so uplifting because each story takes a wrong turn through some kind of suffering (threat, loss or conflict) but it ends on a high note life episode — the wedding, the game winning, the end of the war, the return home, the slaying of the monster, finding the lost love or finding a new and more suited loving partner. When the movie stops on a high note, we are left uplifted; when the movie ends on a low note, we are left depressed. Watch enough depressing movies and you’ll unconsciously mimic the pattern, and tell your own life stories as little episodes of horror. Watch enough happy endings and you will find it easier to end each of your life episode’s story on a high note, thus adding to your own sense of strength, good fortune, well-being, and overall happiness.

Perennial Wisdom traditions have always incorporated story telling as part of their healing protocols — stories of heroism and danger, of Darkness and Light, of good fighting the bad, which always end with a message of triumph, where the good prevails and the Light conquers the Darkness sending the listener’s mind to look for the high note in their own life’s episodes, past, present and future. The illness can cease at least in part because we tell it to do so. The despair can turn into hope through reframing your story even when in the midst of a difficult time. Stories have saved my soul in the darkest of times: Joseph Campbell’s Hero journey have helped me reframe my identity from viewing myself as a Victim of an external Perpetrator to seeing myself as the archetypal Hero, and the adversity or adversary as a Dragon to slay. No Hero complains about having a Dragon to slay; Heroes get wounded, but neither helpless, nor bitter and resentful. And when they’re done with the Dragon, and with healing those wounds, they return to their village with a story to tell — a story of triumph, of course.

Next time you binge on Netflix shows, notice how watching those back-to-back episodes leave you feeling. What is the quality of your dreams after watching at night? What does your narrative sound like in both your inner dialogue, and in the outer dialogue of your conversations with others? Do you feel inspired to act towards your purpose, or disheartened, discouraged and stuck?

Which parts of your past are highlighted as you articulate what happened: the lows or the highs? And while you are telling your story, how do you breathe? What do you do with your muscles? How do sit or stand?

If as you are reading these words you are going through hard times, I encourage you to nourish your soul with some stories of triumph, of sunshine after the rain, of reaching the end of the tunnel. And maybe one day you’ll tell the story of what you’ve been going through and inspire and uplift others.

What began as useful awareness that what you put in your body affects the state of your body (and mind!) has turned into an almost religious fervour pursued by those of us seeking to heal ourselves, our families, our pets and our planet.

I, too, have joined the conscious eating masses years ago, resorting to diet as medicine for my ills. I had a difficult, distressful marriage, and was an immigrant into a radically different culture, environment and climate than what I had been used to. I was fatigued, anxious, and had muscular pain shooting down my arms and legs. I became increasingly sensitive to sugar, wheat, dairy, especially cold, sweet dairy, and fungus enriched cheese like blue cheese, Camembert and Brie. My favourite treats were eliminated and replaced by a collection of vitamins and supplements, and yet, I was still ill, and suffering.

Then I noticed something unusual: whenever I traveled to Israel and Romania to visit my family and friends, I got away with eating all that I fancied, including dessert made with white flour (not organic!), white sugar, and real whipped cream, and even wash all down with a glass of wine. I looked for answers in the food: the wheat has not been GMO-ed or sprayed with Roundup — but the sugar? How come I can eat white sugar and be well, when at home sugar makes me so sick?

An integral view on health has changed my mind: factors that lead to health or disease range from individual subjective factors, such as one’s beliefs about health, one’s self image, self-confidence, and emotional makeup, to objective factors such as diet, exercise, air quality, geographical positioning, home orientation, light, sound, electro-magnetic fields, and even architectural shapes; to intersubjective factors such as the quality of one’s relationships, shared meaning about health, the kind of affection, encouragement and support one gives and receives; to collective objective factors, such as the availability of medical care, the types of health care in society, and the material and financial resources available for healthcare.

Among these factors, some weigh more than others, and in my subjective assessment, for example, the quality of relationships weighs more than diet. If you haven’t spoken with your mother for thirty years, giving up sugar won’t make a difference. As I found out, living with daily conflict and emotional disconnect harmed me to the point that everything got to me, while when I spent time among people with whom I connect deeply, harmoniously and with great affection, I was well, and could stomach any food.

A single-minded view on health misses all that: the single-focused obsession with food, or the single-focused view that reduces health to biological chemistry, or the claim that if you only do this one thing (exercise, or zap parasites, or meditate) you will be healthy and well. Health is not the result of one single factor, but many, and it is useful to sort these factors in two categories: importance, and changeability.

What really matters

My work with clients looks at body pain and symptoms as signposts to pay attention to when navigating through life. Leading a person through an embodied inquiry into the physical pain reveals something that she must change, that may have been deemed by the person’s reason as secondary in importance, but held highly in importance by the body’s own wisdom. What transpires in a session is often surprising for my client, and has to do with either something from the past that hasn’t been fully processed or resolved, or a current situation that must be looked at and digested or changed. In twenty years of working as a healing facilitator, the root cause of physical pain and discomfort in my clients has been rooted in a relational event. I have not worked with people traumatized by earthquakes and tsunamis; everyone that I worked with has been affected by some kind of neglect, cruel behaviour, or some intentional or unintentional harm caused to them or by them in a relationship. I have not encountered yet a body pain that embodied inquiry revealed as being rooted in eating sugar, cheese or non-organic wheat. It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist — I have not seen it.

Most often addressing relationships has resulted in a change in symptoms.

We are social animals. Our human species has no claws, powerful fangs, protective body scales, or the ability to spew or spray venom (other than verbal, that is). Our survival and thriving entirely depends on cooperation. We are deeply wired to connect and belong, and when we fail, or are threatened to loose the connection or belonging, we are risking our lives, and become ill. Social isolation is worse for us than many other harmful factors. Social connection, caring touch, moving and singing together harmoniously in community has been a favourite medicine used by all cultures, and present in all perennial wisdom traditions. That’s why I dance with a Tribe: many times I went to the weekly Biodanza — a conscious and relational dance movement started by Rolando Torro in Chile — and began my evening with a low mood and body tension, and ended up the two-three hour evening glowing with joy and pain free.

Another factor that seems to me to weigh heavier than sugar and cheese is the narrative one generates as a dialogue or internal dialogue, or participates in. All narratives have a point, a bottom-line conclusion of the story, and the point is either a deficit “And thus, my dear friends (or dear Self), this is how I am wronged / others are wrong / something is wrong with me / you / them / the world)” or a resource: “And thus, my loves / my Self, I learned and grew / I am better off / this is how I shine / this is what’s good about me / you / them / the world”. I encourage you to try an exercise in embodied awareness: scroll through the social media posts in your newsfeed, and look for the bottom-line point in each narrative, while noticing any changes in your breathing, body temperature, pressure, weight, movement, spaciousness and luminosity. This will tell you how each narrative affects you. Then pay attention to your own stories.

The Low-Hanging Fruit

I live in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. Ottawa is situated in a valley, has high humidity and precipitation all year-round, and long, harshly cold winters. This affects everyone’s health, and I met more people with depression and arthritis in Ottawa than anywhere else. Humid, cold atmosphere reduces mobility, and I feel my own body moving differently here than in a warm, dry climate. And for many Ottawans, relocating is not an option. And for all of us, changing the climate is impossible.

What is wise and useful to do is to look at all contributing factors to health — and I like the QiGong philosophy for a comprehensive mapping of influencers — and to change those factors that are most readily available to you. Start with the low hanging fruit — but not one piece of fruit only, like a single-minded obsession with food: change all that is available for you to change, beginning with what is easy and available, and then working your way up to what really matters that is available for change.

Some of the things that I do to recover from trauma and grief, to heal and to thrive, and you can do too:

• A daily practice of prayer, meditation, Metta (loving-kindness) practice, Reiki, and QiGong
• Gratitude and appreciation
• Dance, move, touch, hug and kiss people
• Elimination of toxic relationships and conversations
• Watching only movies and video clips that uplift, inspire and enrich. Ingesting information that nourishes, staying away from information that poisons, especially news that I can do nothing about
• Feng-shui remedies in my home, including de-cluttering, and cleaning the house physically and energetically
• Personal hygiene practices, body and energy — shower daily, smudge myself with sacred plants daily
• Diet: eating what nourishes physically and emotionally, without obsessing about it
• Therapy, including bodywork, energy work, talk therapy and homeopathy
• Playing and cuddling with fur friends — dogs and cats
• Humour and playfulness
• Service: contributing to the well-being and happiness of others is powerful medicine
• Creative endeavours, such as writing, drawing, singing, dancing, cooking out of imagination

An integral view on health frees you from obsessions, puts things in perspective according to their importance, and opens you to a wider range of options for your well-being and thriving.

Remember that what matters is not only what you eat, but who you eat with, where you eat it, what are you looking at while you eat, and what you and the others are talking about while you eat.

And show this article to your doctor and your nutritionist!

Nobody I know is addicted to documentary. Everybody I know who binges on Netflix, like I do, is addicted to television series.

The difference between the two are emotions. Documentaries present facts while television shows, drama and comedy alike, present emotion. And nobody I know is addicted to cold, objective facts, and everybody I know who is addicted, is addicted to emotion.

1- Emotions are addictive. The great spectrum of human experience moves us deeply, from the surface of our skin to the depth of our cellular activity. Emotion changes the depth and pace of our breath, our heart rate, the expansion and contraction of our musculature, and the chemistry of the substances released in our blood stream. The more we feel, the more we move — and movement is life.

2 — Emotions are contagious. The characters of television shows express emotions which touch us through empathetic resonance. We feel what the characters feel, and in the course of a fifty minutes episode, we get to experience a wide range of emotional feelings. We tense up when conflict arises, breathe with relief when the conflict is solved; we cry the loss of a character’s loved one, cheer the the triumph of a hero, resent the mean scheming of a baddie, and secretly rejoice in the payback revenge.

3 — Validity of experience. Societal rules demand restraint in our emotional expression. Depending on the flavour of a particular culture we belong to, some emotions are encouraged to express, while others are frowned upon. Nothing human is foreign to us, and we are fully capable of feeling the full spectrum of human experience, but real life calls us to conceal what societal convention deems as undesirable traits, drives, impulses and emotions. However, when we watch an emotionally charged drama, we are freed from all restraints, and free to identify with any character at any time, to try on her predicament for size, and feel her feelings. This side of the television screen allows us incomparable permission to be fully human, from whore to saint, pauper to king, servant to master, compassionate to revengeful, even if for only fifty minutes at a time. We get a better deal than even the actors themselves, as they can only depict one hero, while we are free to juggle several personalities all at once. This exercise is so fulfilling that it is therapeutic. When I lead a coaching client through a voice dialogue practice, I see the same kind of fulfillment, only personalized to the client’s own inner heroes as they show up, minus the landscape setup and period costumes.

4 — Connection and bonding. Emotions connect people with each other and with animals. Drama characters may not reveal all of their feelings to each other, but they reliably reveal their interiors — feelings, motives, intentions, reactions and drives — to us, the spectators. We get to witness the psychological interiors of characters with greater depth and accuracy than we do with our off-the-screen loved ones. Our family members may hide things from us, while the drama heroes live in full disclosure. And we listen! We are more likely to check our phone while our friends and family members talk to us than when the television characters speak. As spectators we get a taste of an idealized form of connection: the other is fully transparent to you, and you are fully present with them! This creates a sense of bonding in you, and if you think that this is not true, watch how sad you feel when a hero (man or beast) gets hurt or dies.

5 — Projections are uni-directional. Whatever biases and moods you have when you sit in front of the screen to watch your favourite drama, you can always be sure that you can say anything you please to the characters, declare your endless love, fire insults at them, smother them in harsh criticism and show them the finger without the risk of reactive responses from the heroes. For the length of a full episode, you get to be as transparent and openly expressive towards your on-screen friends (and foes) as they are with you. No fake smiles, no lies or deceit, no putting up a face. You find yourself in a virtual reality of risk-free intimacy with people (and animals) that you love to love, and love to hate. You end up fulfilled and unscarred.

Clearly, watching drama characters living their lives is not the same as you living yours. Is it even useful to spend any time in front of the screen when you could go dance, eat, make love, hike, fight or travel with real people?

My theory, as I am binging on Downton Abbey, is yes, it is useful, and here is why:

A well-thought and researched television series such as Downton Abbey depicts its characters as layered and complex human beings. You are presented with only a few extremes of either super-virtuous or super-villain heroes; the rest are shown as fallible human beings, with strengths and faults, trying as best as their past conditioning and present predicament allows. And yet, you fall in love with all of them! You may cheer their kind and appropriate action, and protest their mean or stupid thing they say or do — but you love them nevertheless, and wish the best for them.

And this is exactly the useful practice we should apply in our real life relationships. Neither you, nor your loved ones, friends and family members are super-heroes or super-villains. Everyone you know, beginning with your own good self, is a fallible human being, with faults and strength, and under the influence of a myriad factors in past experiences and present predicaments. And while you cheer good deeds and protest bad ones, according to your views and values, you separate the doer from her doing, and love her dearly, because you connect with her, reveal yourself to her, listen to her as she reveals herself to you, and bond with her not because she or you are perfect, but merely because you share a great deal of emotion, and the two of you bond so well.

And this, my friend, turns Netflix watching from entertainment into a life practice worth getting addicted to.