Archive for the ‘Life’ Category

OF HORSE BLANKETS AND GREY HAIRS

Tuesday, December 8th, 2009

by Richard Foxx

Temperatures rarely go below the high 30’s during the night in what passes for winter here in California’s low desert and most times it’s mid 40’s.  It’s a far cry from the near-zero temps and snowy days up in Montana where friends at Horse Prairie Ranch, and everyone else up there for that matter, turn their horses out to fend for themselves once winter sets in.  The animals are hardy, and they’re none the worse for it.

But somehow, when you get out of bed in the morning and go outside with the dog and realize it really is cold, your thoughts turn to the guys out in the pasture so you give up after a few nights like that and begin blanketing them.  It’s more for us than for them but after you do that you don’t feel quite as guilty turning the heat on in the bathroom when you shave.

Horses in pasture are always a little dusty.  Sometimes they are downright dirty.  You brush their coats before saddling them and between brushing and combing manes and tails you don’t often have time to take a close a look at their coats.

It’s a different story when you take the blankets off in the mornings.  Their coats are usually clean.  When I took Macarena’s blanket off the other morning I marveled, as I often do, at the coppery color of her chestnut hair, exactly like a newly-minted penny that gleams in the sun.  Except this time I noticed that her wonderful red-gold color was flecked with some grey hairs.  A lot of them.

I know she’s getting on, coming 19, but to know it on an abstract level and to see it in the concrete are two different things.  I can accept the grey hairs on my head and accept the grey hairs on Sammy’s muzzle but it brought me up short on her.  I’ve had her for about 13 years.  She was, as Rudyard Kipling once wrote about a pony called the Maltese Cat, the pluperfect polo pony.  She elevated my game orders of magnitude better, like a 15 handicap golfer suddenly playing to a five.  She saved my life at least three times, or at least saved me from serious harm.  She and I are telepathic together.

She knows what it means.  She speaks a different language but she knows now that I know, too.  And that’s always been enough between us.

Gotta go…

PASSION

Wednesday, September 16th, 2009

Richard M. Foxx, MD

www.medicalandskinspa.com

Standing in the shade of a 300 year old live oak at the crest of a hill in Buellton this weekend, surrounded by endless rows of Pinot Noir grapevines heavy with ripe fruit, I learned once again what passion is all about.

This time it came in the form of Richard Sanford, perhaps my oldest and very dearest friend.  The not too distant ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he leaned against an ancient oak table, a glass of ruby-colored Pinot Noir in one hand, and talked about what it meant to be a wine maker, that we were about to drink wine that had been pressed from these grapes last year, and the long journey that had taken him to this spiritual place on an extraordinary day.

I first met Richard almost 40 years ago.  We were both sought-after ocean-racing navigators, competitors, but both passionate devotees of an arcane, pre-GPS avocation that was as much art as science.  When time for sailing became a luxury we stayed in distant touch through mutual friends.  I knew that he was following his dream of starting an organic winery north of Santa Barbara and I cheered him on from afar, and cheered louder when President Reagan chose his wines to be served at his first inaugural.

We reconnected almost 25 years ago when my BW, JoAnn, and I began an annual pilgrimage (it always felt that way) to his eponymous winery and watched as it grew and prospered.  Philosophical conflicts with his investors eventually resulted in his leaving Sanford Winery about the same time JoAnn and I opened The Medical and Skin Spa.

His passion for growing grapes in a sustainable, organic environment drove him to start over and to open Alma Rosa Winery in Buellton, CA, with his wife and soulmate, Thekla.  My passion for the art of cosmetic medicine and the support of my soulmate emboldened me.  The parallels of our lives continued.

Being a farmer is a little like going to the roulette table several times a year and betting everything you have on the red.  But as a vegetable farmer you have the possibility of pulling out your crops if they develop disease, or infestations.  As a grower of grapes you are dealing with plants that take at least three years to reach their potential.  You can’t pull them out and start over.  Multiply that by about a thousand if you are an organic grape grower.  No fungicides, no pesticides to fall back on.

With a dedicated staff, working around the clock many days, Richard and Thekla gradually and painstakingly brought Alma Rosa to its present day, richly-deserved award-winning status.  They make extraordinary Chardonnays and a memorable Pinot Gris, true, but their Pinot Noirs are pure magic.

Which brought us to last weekend.  Walking through the pre-harvest vineyards, tasting the grapes from the vine, realizing their flavor is as far from table grapes as a Verdi aria is from rap, having the rich juice cover your hands and drip down your chin, having Richard talk about the fortuitous interaction of grape with mold with grape genetics, you get a rare and precious peek at passion, that extravagant emotion.

And you realize that passion is what propels some of us, the lucky ones, over the bumps, around the potholes, past the disappointments, and beyond the mid-night terrors.

If we are extraordinarily lucky we get to share it with others.

Richard M. Foxx, MD is Founder and Medical Director of The Medical and Skin Spa in Indian Wells, CA, a lover of fine wine, and devoted to passion in his life and his work.  Visit his website at: www.medicalandskinspa.com.

COSMETIC MEDICINE AND HORSES

Tuesday, August 25th, 2009

Richard M. Foxx, MD

What does cosmetic medicine have to do with horses?

At first blush the answer is “nothing.”  The real answer for me, however, has turned out to be “everything.”

Even though I wasn’t born in a saddle on a ranch, horses have always been part of my life.  When I was about 12 and I could earn some money delivering groceries I rode my bike into the Orange Mountains near where we lived and rented a horse and rode until my money ran out.  “Cowboy” was always the occupation I wrote down first when my teachers asked us what we wanted to be.

Sometimes it takes years for a dream to come true.  The army, residency, and work put this particular dream on hold for decades until about 30 years ago when I decided it was now or never and since then I’ve never looked back.  Horses will forever be a part of my life.

This is not another “Everything I’ve learned I’ve learned from a horse” article.  But I did immerse myself in their world and the approach to life I’ve developed being around horses became a perfect complement to the philosophy I evolved in my spiritual and metaphysical journey that took me from Zen through Tibetan Buddhism and Taoism; the idea that we are all interconnected, the principle of being in the moment, the value of being congruent.

Most of all, I learned the value of being sensitive to non-verbal communication between horse and human, and between human and human.  Ultimately it made me more sensitive to my patients’ unspoken goals.

Horses are huge, imposing, sentient beings that, in spite of our frequent misunderstandings, help us help ourselves as we learn to develop the skills they need from us.  My journey was so transcending I decided to share my findings and the wisdom of my horses with anyone interested.  To facilitate this I’ve begun a program called THE EPONA EXPERIENCE. It will kick off this fall in the desert.

Way back when, when I was about six or so, full of dreams and full of promise, someone took a picture of me on the back of a pony.  My BW found that about twelve years ago and had it framed.  On the back she wrote: “Once a cowboy, always a cowboy.”

Gotta go.

MY SUCCESS DEPENDS UPON PAYING ATTENTION

Saturday, August 15th, 2009

Richard M. Foxx, MD

David Viscott, MD, was an extremely talented psychiatrist who not only operated a successful LA psych practice in the 1980’s and 90’s but also found time to host a radio show. For me he was to Dr. Laura as Chateau Lafitte Rothschild is to Ripple. I listened to him whenever I could, spoke to him on a few precious occasions, and soaked up as much of his interviewing skills as it was possible to soak up from a distance.

In one of his seminars David (as he insisted everyone call him) passed out sticky labels and asked everyone come in the next morning with this sentence completed and written on the label: “My success depends upon…”

I racked my brain. This was about 20 years ago. I was still young enough to think I could make a difference and old enough to think I had all the answers. All I could come up with was: “My success depends upon paying attention.”

Oh, boy. Somehow I had hit a mother lode. I can’t even begin to count the number of times since then that not paying attention has jumped up to bite me, personally and professionally. And every time that happened I thought of that silly sentence.

As the years went by I struggled to internalize those few words and incorporate them into my way of doing things. The occasions when I have failed to pay attention have thankfully become fewer and fewer.

David Viscott passed away in 1996, at age 58.

What started me thinking about this was a comment from a patient not long ago that she liked how much of a meticulous perfectionist I seemed to be. I thanked her, rolled my eyes (to myself, of course), and thought one more time of David.

What does your success depend upon?

Gotta go…