From Opinion to Belief to Knowing

It all started when I was living in Taiwan, 21 years old, having just graduated from Yale with a degree in mathematics and philosophy. Of course I did what most people do with such a degree—I got a job in a bar. One day on my way to work I attempted to kick-start my motorcycle. After several unsuccessful tries I have it one final frustrated stomp with all my strength. The starting lever jammed and sprang back, severely spraining my ankle. I took a cab to work and by the time I arrived my ankle had ballooned to twice its normal size, bright red and painful to the lightest touch. I gratefully accepted the bartender’s offer to take me to the doctor. Imagine my surprise upon arriving at the “doctor’s office” and finding, not an antiseptic suite of professional offices, but a single room with a bare cement floor, five or six chairs, and a few “patients” sitting around waiting their turns. In this waiting room / examination room / treatment room, the doctor held court, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. We all listened to the first patient in line describing his hemorrhoid problem as I nervously awaited my turn.

The treatment could not have been more painful. For several minutes (I’m not sure how long but it seemed like eternity) he dug his thumbs hard into the midst of the inflamed, swollen mass of my ankle, massaging and rolling, pressing and pulling, while I gripped the arms of the chair, teeth clenched, sweat popping. Finally he slopped some goo on the ankle, wrapped it up in a bandage, and sent me on my way.

Needless to say, I had been expecting a very different treatment—something involving ice and anti-inflammatory drugs. In fact I’d had a very similar injury at a cross-country meet in college. It had taken six weeks on crutches for it to heal, and had continued to bother me for at least a year. This time was just as bad. Imagine my amazement when I woke up the next morning, unwrapped the bandage, and found the swelling gone completely. I took a tentative step—no pain! Just a tiny shadow of tenderness. The following morning I went hiking. [click to read more...]