By Bernie Siegel, M.D.

I write this article in August, although you will not be reading it until winter's conclusion. I mention this because if the article appears a bit different to you, I want you to understand that my therapist is on her summer vacation and I cannot renew my prescriptions until the deadline for submission of this article has passed.

Now that the situation is clear I shall proceed. Several metaphors occurred to me as I was e-mailing a depressed psychiatrist friend. She likes to finger paint, and we got into a discussion about how people can be the blank canvas that we finger paint on. For a psychotherapist it is a metaphor, but for a massage therapist it becomes a literal statement.

Everyone starts out as a blank canvas. We are the nobody and the undifferentiated nothing with the potential to become somebody and something. When you finger paint on a human body, you are creating a new body, free of the afflictions and limitations of the past.

I know from my experience with our son Keith's touch. I present him with a tired, aching body at times. When I lie down on his massage table, I am aware of my soreness, aches and pains; the result of my day's various physical activities. As he begins to finger paint on the surface of my body, I can feel the change in the canvas he works on. My pain and soreness disappear, and I am left with a body that is comfortable and pleasant to reside in. A work of art has been produced by his finger painting on the canvas I brought to him.

I have been corresponding, on my web site (www.drbernie.com), with some women who have been sexually abused. Please feel free to log on and join us and interact. Your wisdom as therapists would be very helpful. I grew up with physical contact that was healthy in nature, and had to learn that there were people who could not handle my hugs because of their traumatic life experiences. [See page 40ÑEd.] Some were ready to punch me when I approached them, and others felt as rigid as telephone poles when I touched them. These damaged and torn canvases had to be treated very differently. They had to be repaired before the finger painting could begin.

The gentle hand of an artist can repair the damage and prepare a person to accept touch as a healing and not as an assault to his or her body. Remember, you are the finger painters of a life.

My psychiatrist friend has been complaining so much lately that she apologized for rubbing me the wrong way with all her problems. I said you cannot rub me the wrong way. Any way you rub, my fur feels good. Being a Saint Bernard, I know this from experience. I also know that the rubbing will only help polish me by clearing my canvas of smudges and my work of art of spots, in other words, helping to heal my body and my life.

Be open to someone rubbing you the wrong way. It is a good sign meaning that people know you care and want to make it clear to you when your finger painting is not done with the skill it could and should be done with. You could be pushing too hard or not enough.

Our furry creatures do not seem to care which way we rub them. They love the contact but combing their fur or pulling on it gets a different reaction. So be careful and be sure you know the difference between rubbing, touching, and yanking on someone's fur. The latter will not get you a positive reaction. Believe me, I know from my experience with our four-legged children.

Spirits and souls may exist but they cannot touch each other in a physical sense. Our bodies are what connect us. We share the experience of life because of our bodies. This is symbolized to me by the importance of the number ten as a sign of wholeness. I may have discussed this in an earlier article (See Millennium 2000), but take it from me, the one and zero are important symbols. So when we shake hands, the five fingers of two individuals join and once again we are finger painting a wholeness in the creation of ten fingers grasping others. A relationship is created through that touch as we grip each other.

With my medication having worn off, I cannot help but share one more little thing about women's bodies. My wife, Bobbie, does one-liners at our talks and one of them is, "Women don't have hot flashes, they have power surges." Our bodies are interesting dwelling places, and the metaphors we use to describe our weaknesses, afflictions, physical strengths, and attributes tell us a great deal about our views of life and ourselves.

After talking to another of our children, we realized how interesting our various expressions about the body are. "Why is someone a pain in the neck or ass but they break my heart or back?" "Why are my guts in a knot?" "Why do you feel pressure in your chest?" "Why don't you get off my back?" With numbers, too, we hear: "His number's up," or, "I've got his number." Think about the implied meaning and why certain parts of our lives and bodies are connected to these meaningful expressions.

I hope some day people will learn to respect their bodies. Your life began with a beautiful body, the moment you were born. You did not feel defective at that moment, no matter what problems you were born with. You felt complete, as any animal does, but then people pointed things out to you and made comparisons and the trouble started. Animals have it easier because they are complete and whole. They know who they are, while a human being is incomplete and has much work to do in a lifetime to achieve wholeness.

So my artist friends: Get out your finger paints and oils and start creating works of art who are capable of seeing themselves as beautiful. It is at that point, the addictions and self-destructive behavior will cease and completeness will occur to your and God's delight.

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Bernie S. Siegel, M.D., a New Haven surgeon, is author of Prescriptions for Living; Love, Medicine and Miracles; and other books.