Michael Silverblatt on Oliver Sacks

Oliver Sacks died over the weekend. Reading him over the years taught me a lot about the human mind, but even more importantly, it taught me how to be with my clients, good people in less-than-ideal circumstances, with gentleness and compassion. We lost an amazing voice this weekend, but he has left us with a wealth of knowledge.

So when I heard the following interview today with Michael Silverblatt (NPR's Bookworm) on To The Point with Barbara Bogaev - a tribute to Oliver Sacks - it made me smile. I can't help but regurgitate it at length. We could use a lot more people like this in the world. You can listen to the whole interview here.

Dr. Sacks via Alamy at medscape.com

Michael Silverblatt on preparing to interview Oliver Sacks at a book festival:

"I don't usually do public events, and I was really quite frightened. And added to my list of fears, "will Oliver be there in the auditorium, or is he going to find something that interests him?" You have to understand, he's kind of a nutty professor. He didn't like being hot, so he carried a portable fan with him in his vest pocket when I first met him. I said to him, "Oliver, I'm quite frightened of doing this. I don't do things in public. Can we walk over together, and can we hold hands?" And, as if there were nothing odd about this, he said, "I would love to." And we held hands all the way across the campus together, two grown men hand-in-hand. It was amazing. When we got to the auditorium, he took out of his pocket, the same magic pocket that held his portable fan,... his crayons, his colored pencils, and his magic markers, and we colored together. We sat while we waited for the audience to come, coloring. He immediately saw that I was one of his child patients, and he treated me the way he treated children, with great joy and considerateness and participation. He colored too... He could immediately be the other person's shepherd, lover, insight giver. It was amazing...

"He was a magician of spirit and spoke always of things we'd forgotten. He'd talk about how people who were suffering, of the sort we are talking about - the way he suffered - would do well with gardening. Touching soil and watching things grow meant a great deal. It wasn't just tree-hugging. It was part of the spirit, the same way music not only heals the savage breast, but gives us a sense of order."

Seems to me that healthy living happens when we reach out like that... to be shepherds for and lovers of well-being... in others and in ourselves.