I have a candy jar on my desk. In the course of a day, quite a number of TPAN staff members and volunteers stop by to grab an Almond Joy, a Twix,or some Laffy Taffy, most of them muttering self-judgmentally about their lack of will power and other such conditioned twaddle. As they stand picking through the bowl for their preferred treat, I have a chance to have some (usually humorous) exchange and, occasionally, to ask them how they're doing if I notice their energy feeling heavy, dark, or frantic. It was one of those opportunities that inspires this column.

One of the physician's assistants at the clinic reached into the bowl with a deep sigh and his energy felt like the weight of the world. It had been "one of those days" that occur on a regular basis for those who work with people who are physically ill, emotionally traumatized or otherwise needful of help in some way -- a day when we feel bombarded by the pain and despair of others to the point where we carry it with us. I was guided to share with this compassionate man a "spell" or ritual that I'd developed during my years of doing energy work at another agency.

I would frequently see people there who lived lives of such struggle, such pain that it was hard to believe they survived. It was a blessing on the one hand because, compared to what they dealt with, my life was a piece of cake! But it was also a challenge because I had to find some way to honor my concern for them and yet not take on their problems, their lessons as my own.

Back then, I had a 45-minute commute, during which I would use the time and solitude to regain my balance, to get back to the center I'd been knocked off of, to release my clients with love and gratitude for what they constantly taught me. I hoped it would help my colleague not to take that heavy energy home with him and since that day, he's honored me several times by telling me how much it has helped him.

As I tried to think of a topic for my column that would fit in with this issue covering CROI, it occurred to me that during those days of sharing reports, statistics, research, experiences, and ideas, the attendees at the conference probably also shared each other's frustration, anger, grief, and fear. The combined energies of thousands of people coming together for this mutual, positive purpose and then exchanging not just the positive, but also the difficult energies of the cause, seemed overwhelming to me. I thought about my fellow TPAN tribe members Matt, Jeff, and Enid, and wished I'd given them each a laminated card with this printed on it. So here, for the next big conference, for the next hard day, for the next sleepless night, for you, whenever you need it, is my spell:

Visualize the top of your head opening up and all of whatever you need to release flowing, tumbling, shooting out to wherever it must go for its highest healing. And know that you have the right and the power to do this for yourself whenever you need to.

For those of you battling HIV/AIDS or any other physical illness, send out the physical symptoms too. Release the headache, nausea, diarrhea, neuropathy, sinus infection, fatigue. No, this surrender is not going to cure you, but it doesn't counteract your meds, defy your doctor or harm you in any way. What do you have to lose besides the few minutes it takes to breathe, speak, and visualize getting rid of those things that hold you back or drag you down? Wouldn't it be worth a try if pain was eased, your appetite came back, and you could breathe easier? This is one pro-active way to help yourself. While much has been made of the body/mind/spirit connection and the ways in which it has been shown to help healing, not many people develop it or exercise it consistently. But if the idea that you have something to say about what is and is not in your life, in your body, in your mind and heart appeals to you, maybe you'll find this little ritual of release as helpful as I do. If so, pass it on. This is a difficult world to live in and I believe we can all use a little magic. And for heaven's sake, quit beating yourself up for grabbing a Hershey bar every now and then!

Oh, and thanks, Terry.