January is well known for fresh commitments to wellness. Gyms are packed, hiking trails are hopping and the juice bar line is wrapped around the corner. And with everything going on in the world, a renewed focus on self-care couldn’t be more timely—unless overwhelming professional demands make it seem out of reach.
For those whose job is to provide critical support to others—often behind the scenes—self-care can be the hardest thing to prioritize. So, the question is: who’s taking care of the caregivers?
When I was asked by our illustrious editor to check out “this hippie place up in the mountains called 1440,” I replied, based on personal experience, “I wouldn’t call it a hippie place”—recalling the redwood-encased infinity pool, next to the Redwood Auditorium.
What I was soon to discover is this woodsy Shangri-La is much more than a place to pamper the top 10%. In fact, many of its programs are focused on people who most need some reprieve: healthcare workers.
Winding trails lead through a forested landscape where sunlight filters softly through ancient branches, casting golden hues across tranquil footpaths. The air carries the scent of pine and earth, offering calm with each breath.
Founded by philanthropists Joanie and Scott Kriens, the nonprofit Scotts Valley campus opened in May 2017. Formerly occupied by Bethany University, the site is designed to provide a space where people could cultivate relationships and achieve personal growth.
Today 1440 offers an environment for individuals and organizations to explore, learn, reflect, connect and reenergize.
Yet the work began well before the first beautifully recrafted buildings were open for business. When it launched in 2010 as the 1440 Foundation, the focus was philanthropic grant-making, supporting individuals and organizations dedicated to fostering personal growth and stronger relationships.
Minute By Minute
The 1440 mission statement reads, “creating hope for living well with the 1,440 minutes we have each day.” At the Multiversity, that sentiment comes to life as a sanctuary where visitors can engage in personal growth against the timeless backdrop of a redwood forest.
And since the early days of the Covid pandemic, the needs of our behind-the-scenes heroes—healthcare workers—have become a top priority in this nurturing environment.
Currently the campus hosts two custom-designed programs for those whose work is to put others first. One is Healing Our Healthcare Heroes, which caters to a broader range of healthcare job functions. The other, Healing Our Nurses, is specifically tailored to nurses with a focus on the public health sector.
I meet Executive Director Katey Kennedy over Zoom, and we have a lively conversation with Julie McKay, 1440’s director of philanthropic programs and partnerships. Both have had boots on the ground since day one, and they can explain how 1440’s programs for healthcare workers evolved.
Through a separate 1440 Foundation program, Canopy Cancer Collective, the team was exposed to the challenges that healthcare workers faced.
Kennedy explains, “We had been working with physicians and advisors on that team, and it was also right at the beginning of Covid and the doctors we were working with were telling us just how beat up and exhausted the healthcare system was. They were our partners in this, and so I started brainstorming this with one of our doctors about what we could potentially do to support the medical professionals that he was seeing.”
Kennedy continues, “He was on the East Coast, so we were just talking sort of in general. We presented a proposal to our board and said, ‘We think we have an opportunity here. We think there’s a serious need to support the healthcare workers who are overwhelmed as a result of Covid, and we have a campus available.’
“And we said, ‘Why don’t we try and figure out how we can support them with some mental health and well-being initiatives to reduce their stress?’” Kennedy says. “Because if we don’t take care of our healthcare providers, who are the most stressed, we’re not going to have anybody left to take care of us when we need it.”
Kennedy adds, “We realized we could use the campus to support healthcare providers, and then Julie developed this amazing curriculum.”
In April 2020, McKay interviewed nurses, social workers, physicians and leadership in healthcare to learn what the most pressing stress-induced needs were. The program was developed based on those interviews and continues to shift to address the issues health care systems are navigating, while one unique element endures. The concept of “moral injury” is a term used to describe a common emotion among medical professionals responsible for administering lifesaving treatments.
“A moral injury is when you go against your own personal value system, whether it’s through a personal act or an act that you were directed by leadership,” McKay explains. “So it came up in the pandemic often. Because healthcare workers are having to make really difficult decisions about things like equipment, or family members not being present for the death of a patient.”
As a result, healthcare workers became the primary focus of the program. Ellie Kriens soon joined the 1440 Foundation as a program officer. All sessions are led by physicians, psychologists and other experts, including a chaplain. Each facilitator provides a series of tools which are introduced over the course of the three days.
McKay describes one challenge that comes up often during sessions is moral injury. “Self-compassion is a key theme in resolving the issues surrounding moral injury and grief. It’s a common thread, and that’s why the group dynamic is important to understanding and connecting in community.”
The opportunity to share what they might be experiencing is cited as a valuable part of the in-person group sessions. Other tools provided throughout the whole program are mindfulness and healthy eating.
“Food is an important part of the program,” McKay says. “We’ve had sessions on food as medicine in the past. If you look at the agenda, you’ll see every single element of the program, there is a tool to support their wellbeing. There are many opportunities that the hope is that you’ll walk away with at least one or two tools that resonate with the participant.”
At the close of the program, attendees make commitments to one another to follow through. Because they attend in cohorts, a sense of community helps provide reinforcement after the program ends. Sometimes, the cohort is a department; other times they’re from different departments. But the groups—which range from 45 to 140 people—are usually from the same healthcare system.
“Some of the healthcare systems have expanded this into their leadership,” McKay adds.
I ask the team to share a particularly memorable example of a transformative experience during the program. Julie replies, “That’s a hard one for me to pick just one, and I’m sure for Katey too. We’ve had the extreme from people who had suicidal ideation upon arrival and came to us later and said, ‘I feel so much relief.’”
Coach Eliza Ramos recalls a participant who came up in tears and “Thank you for creating such a safe space for us to speak our truths.” Others shared such comments as “I realized I don’t give myself permission to actually rest” and “I wish all nurses could experience this program. It has been life changing. I’m so grateful.”
The team has learned how defining and naming individual feelings can really be helpful for people. McKay says, “I’ve had a lot of people say, ‘I don’t feel so alone.’
“We sit in the back of the room and you can just feel the stress kind of peeled off layer by layer as they hear everyone talking about all the same issues that they’re managing,” she adds.
The team notes how healthcare workers are known for feeling it’s their job to just tough it out, so it is a relief to realize they’re not alone. To receive the support from others that they’ve been providing is a benefit they list among the most transformational aspects of the program.
I had the opportunity to witness this firsthand when I sat in on a recent session. I learned that more than 55% of healthcare workers will experience burnout in the coming year. And when the facilitator asked how many of the 50 people in the room had even been on a retreat, only five or six raised their hands. This number matters more to all of us than may be immediately obvious. Burnt-out workers leave jobs and are neither easy nor cheap to replace.
Creating a safe space in a group setting like this is critical, and I watched as the facilitator began the session by creating a set of agreements to abide by throughout the weekend. Participants agree to confidentiality, deep listening and non-judgment. Yet before anything else, the program begins with a sense of fun and connection. The first night is dedicated to laughter and dancing and building community.
The team discovered the difference during their pilot programs. Some groups were happy when leadership was in the room. One time a particular group was having struggles with their manager. They came up after the opening and said, “We can’t show up if they’re in the room.”
Upon learning this the manager left right away, and now during the planning calls it is determined if leadership should participate.
I ask, “What about the space itself? How do you think that lends to the healing and efficacy of the program?”
In response, Kennedy describes a recent session a healthcare manager was observing with the idea of bringing the program to their own campus. After being at 1440 for the two and a half days, the manager decided, “This container that you guys have built for these healthcare healers is an essential part of the program.”
The team agrees the space is perfect for this work. “We’ve had so many different healthcare groups. Julie and I were talking before the call. I think we’re at nearly 5,000 healthcare staff that have come through this program, so the container that we’ve created, it’s the whole thing.
“It’s the space, facilitators, even the food,” Kennedy continues. “We have really meticulously thought through the food choices and the classes, the sound healing, the nature walks and how it all contributes to this amazing experience for the healthcare workers to really feel that they can let go and take care of themselves.”
While the three of us sat in Kitchen Table, the stately community dining room, over a locally sourced and exceptionally satisfying breakfast, a markedly cheerful man approached. I learned he was Dr. John Chuck, chief wellness officer at California Northstate University. A member of the 1440 faculty, he was eager to share his opinion of the Healing Our Healthcare Heroes program.
“We know that lots of hard work goes into nurturing and growing the program. I just want to make sure you know that it’s working,” he asserts. “Guests arrive in all states of being, many struggling. The deep hospitality coupled with the comprehensive wellness programming meets those guests where they are, and takes them to a better place, a place where they claim reality-based hope for the many aspects of their existence.”
I note, “It sounds like it just came together almost in a serendipitous kind of way where it was timing and need and the facility and everything came together.”
Kennedy nods. “We had all the right ingredients and then we thought, let’s see if we can launch it and do some good. Initially because this was brand-new and it was a pilot, 1440 agreed to fund a significant portion of the cost. Pretty soon we had a couple healthcare systems step up and then it just blossomed from there.”
As the program has grown in both size and scope, it’s now funded by participating healthcare systems. The focus has also shifted toward public healthcare systems that often don’t have private foundations or financial backing. Through a combination of 1440 Foundation grants, scholarships, and private and healthcare system funding, all costs for the participants are covered and the individual doesn’t pay anything, which was the initial goal.
For healthcare workers who are not part of a systemwide program, 1440 provides a scholarship portal. They explain they’re constantly reviewing those applications to fit people in where they can. So, if they have a program that has five extra spots, if the contracted healthcare system agrees, they’ll pick five scholarship recipients to go into that program.
The last two programs have been fully funded by the Foundation, including one which began early this month. Santa Cruz County and Monterey County sent a whole cohort of hospice workers. For a group often struggling with secondary trauma, the program was especially transformational. “They loved it. Their grief session was extremely impactful, particularly for that group. It was a pretty powerful experience,” McKay says.
This month marks the beginning of a health improvement partnership with Santa Cruz County. And the team says it’s just the beginning. “We’ve touched nearly 5 000 lives with this program but there is one healthcare system I know of in Santa Clara Valley that has 8,000 employees. So it’s expanding to reach more and more people. Julie is great at taking the program and morphing it based on needs,” Kennedy acknowledges.
McKay adds, “We’ve worked with almost anyone who comes forward because we know how important it is. We’ve helped them secure funds. We’ve been to board meetings to explain the program. I’ve co-written grants to help get them funding. We will continue to advocate and support for all frontline healthcare workers to come through the program as need arises.”
Using the Tools
I save the best for last and ask the team whether their personal perspectives on work life, balance and self-care have changed since launching this initiative.
“Great question,” McKay says. “Well, I will share that I have watched it probably 40 times because I’m always in the room. I really want to see what the flow is, how the faculty are doing. And every single time that I’ve seen this program I’ve learned something new.
“We practice the tools we offer in these sessions,” she continues. “It’s part of our DNA as an organization. We started with mindfulness and meditation as sort of the core message that we were taking to educators. So as a group, we meditate, and we try to reinforce the behaviors that we’re sharing with the healthcare workers, too. That doesn’t mean that we are great at it—we rely on our community to support these habits.”
I had one last question for the team: “What is one takeaway from the program that you hope participants remember and apply when they return to their demanding roles?”
The response was unanimous. “That their own care for themselves matters, that they put their oxygen mask on first. That sounds so simple, but it’s really so hard to remember. I think for all of us.”
Kennedy continues: “I don’t think Scott [Kriens, 1440 co-creator] would be mad at me for quoting this because he says it all the time. This last week, I heard him say it to the group on opening night. He said, ‘You know, you healthcare workers are really great at taking care of other people, but you’re really terrible at taking care of yourselves. So, you are here for the next two and a half days—let us take care of you and please accept it.’”
This sage advice could apply to so many of us. And as the 1440 experts remind us, it’s a mentality we need to revisit again and again.
Healthcare professionals or organizations can learn more about the program or sign up through an application at 1440.org/philanthropic-programs.
Stickin’ It
Just when you thought there couldn’t be another form of yoga…
By Kristen McLaughlin
“Walking is the most basic living activity. Walking correctly is a dying art.”
As a kid, he grew up playing stickball in Brooklyn. Now as an adult, he leads Stick Yoga classes in doctors’ offices, yoga studios and classrooms statewide. Santa Cruz chiropractor Dr. Faygenholtz—or “Dr. Arthur” as he is known—is the “Father of the Stick Yoga® Method,” which he developed as a “new paradigm for wellness” to improve balance, flexibility and coordination for people of all ages and abilities.
“It’s a whole system of being more comfortable with your whole body,” Dr. Arthur says. “It adds a safety, a balance and other benefits as well.”
Faygenholtz describes Stick Yoga as ‘“radical self-healing” best practiced barefoot in nature. Since most people are not touching the earth any more, we are losing touch with a primal magnetic charge. “We as a society are generally walking in an insulted environment, connected to the earth by plastic-soled shoes, sitting in cars on rubber tires,” he said. “Most people do not ground anymore.”
He traces the roots of stick walking back to ancient evolution. “Throughout history, man’s leaders had a staff,” or stick, Faygenholtz said. “When the ground touches you, you feel all that.”
An offshoot of Nordic pole walking, Stick Yoga was something Faygenholtz first developed in 1997, inspired by skiing. For the off-season, he noticed skiers needed conditioning to stay in race form for the warm months when there was no snow.
“This is what skiers do in the off season,” he says. “If you add poles, now you have 4-Wheel Drive.” When you walk without poles, you activate muscles below the waist. But when you add poles, you activate all of the upper body muscles as well.
Walking with poles can help maintain an upright position, which in turn will improve posture, prevent back pain, help with breathing and of course burn calories. As pole walking became popular in Canada, health insurance companies were even paying for trekking poles, he points out.
Faygenholtz first discovered Stick Yoga while working in wheelchair physical therapy at Sonoma State University. “When I was in chiropractic college I started teaching in Portland, Oregon, in 1974,” he said. “That’s when I started working with sticks. I taught stick stretching at Portland Community College.”
He trademarked his innovative system as a chiropractic approach, combining sticks with elements of tai chi form and the flowing movements of traditional hatha yoga. “You can apply isometric principles, discover traction, develop left and right hemispheres and leg strength.”
Stick Sessions
Dr. Arthur has taught Stick Yoga seminars for more than 20 years, from Sacramento to Los Angeles. He taught locally at Breath+Oneness studio, Eden yoga studio and open-air workshops at Ocean View Park and Nisene Marks State Forest, and he currently holds monthly seminars and workshops at 1440 Multiversity (see story on page ___).
In the workshops, Faygenholtz shares techniques to build core muscle, improve posture and enrich both left and right hemispheres of the brain. “It’s teaching the brain to be in sync with both sides of the body,” he says.
Whereas many sports are one-sided, such as golf and tennis, stick work is symmetrical. For those training for a sport, this bilateral movement will enhance the sport, he adds. “When you’re using both hands, both hemispheres are in a relationship using 100 percent of the brain,” he explains.
With the stick as a tool, one can be more relaxed or stable while working through different movements. “The stick is your dance partner,” Faygenholtz says. “You can squeeze it or push it or pull it to add more strength.”
Adding a second stick opens up a whole new set of movements. “You can use the ground. You can use other parts of the environment to support different stretches,” Faygenholtz says. “But the main thing is your healing yourself. There’s a lot of benefit to having a ritual, a routine.”
The Science of Nature
Stick Yoga and Stick Walking are helping people get back to basics by practicing the simple art of walking in nature—bare feet encouraged. When doing the work on the beach or in a forest, the benefits grow exponentially with every breath of phytoncides.
Phytoncides, present in the salt air, help the body neutralize inflammation as negative ions neutralize positive ions. “The beach is an adult sandbox,” Faygenholtz says. “You are healing yourself, reducing inflammation when you ground yourself.”
The forest is another ideal environment, as trees have a particular protection around them, a phytoncide that protects them from fungus, Faygenholtz explains. “It’s a protection that kills to help the tree live,” he said.
Phytoncides not only protect trees from harmful insects, bacteria and disease; these little molecules can also benefit forest visitors.
“It’s the alchemy of the forest. You’re bathing in your senses. Cedar, pine, eucalyptus…all the different smells and sounds and tastes,” he says.
According to the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, phytoncides found in forests include pinean, myrcene, camphene, limonene and sabinene. Benefits from these natural forest substances offer anti-inflammatory, antioxidant and analgesic effects and serve as natural anti-depressants.
Faygenholtz compares the forest to a pharmacy. “Everything is symbiotic, nurturing,” he says. “As we breathe all of that in, we’re enriching our immune system. Even just going in the forest sitting on a rock,” he says. “It opens you up to being connected. More organically, it’s a closed kinetic chain. It’s self-care.”
<COULD CUT>Phytoncides are also the science behind the current trend of “forest bathing” as exposure to phytoncides and essential oils from trees have medicinal benefits that go far beyond aromatherapy. Just as people in Japan partake in social outings as a form of forest therapy, we owe it to ourselves to reap the benefits of walking in nature, rather than a room or a building. By exercising outside, we are giving ourselves an “interior celebration,” Faygenholtz says.<TO HERE>
It doesn’t matter whether you use one stick or two, whether you’re pole walking barefoot or practicing Stick Yoga on grass or on sand. The bottom line is that working with sticks opens up a greater connection with the earth and its elements. “You are influencing your electrical system in a very positive way,” Faygenholtz says. “The stick is something to hold onto, and you can feel that you’re connected.”
BYO Sticks
With a little bit of DIY and a trip to the hardware store, you can improvise a pair of walking sticks for less than $20. “If you don’t have poles, you can’t pole walk,” Faygenholtz says.
He prefers rattan wood because of its light weight and flexibility, whereas bamboo has been known to fracture or crack from exposure to temperature and humidity. Recently he has been getting into polycarbonate sticks, which he developed and uses on the beach.
The grip is also a very important piece of working with a stick. “The quality of your grip is directly linked to your circulation,” Faygenholtz says. Just like acupunture can test your pulse, a good grip will enrich isometric strength, he notes.
Straps are not necessary but can serve a function for the wrists as students advance in their technique. “In the beginning you just want to test the water,” Faygenholtz said. “It’s like four-wheel drive, and you’re a machine. You’re like a toy soldier walking with good posture and awareness. You can’t slouch because you’re using the ground to benefit and push off and on.”
If you feel a sudden urge to inhale some natural forest phytocides right now, two good places to start are Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park and the Forest of Nisene Marks. So why not grab a friend and a pair of poles? “When you’re walking with other people you are raising your social EQ,” Faygenholtz says. “All those things are there with pole walking.”
For more information about workshops and seminars, call 831-688-0361, email fa*********@gm***.com or visit StickYoga.com.
Making the Cut
Reproductive health for men explained
By Sean Rusev
I’ve never wanted children. The first time I attempted a vasectomy (under doctor supervision, don’t worry), it was 2018.
At a San Diego Planned Parenthood, I learned what the procedure was like (small incision, long-term decision) and that I’d be subject to a 30-day waiting period to prove no coercion. I signed forms saying I understood the procedure’s permanence. This was the consultation.
But at the front desk, I was floored to hear they didn’t have availability for months. A scarcity of surgeons, I was told. It was August, and they gave me a number to call in November.
Wouldn’t you know it, November rolled around and I looked at the crush of the incoming holidays and my service industry availability, and didn’t feel like integrating the procedure into either. So I balked.
It took a future November’s arrival to change that: November 5, 2024.
I had watched my country’s theocratic shift with mounting dread, Dobbs splintering us into state rules on a draconian sliding scale. But with the full conservative sweep of two branches of government (and, arguably, the third) I knew it was time to book a return appointment. All men owe women concrete action demonstrating their health is our health.
Imagine my surprise when the doctor brought out the same forms, saying sterilization consent expires after 180 days.
”Well, couldn’t it just be that I took six years to make a very considered decision?”
It couldn’t.
I’d need to wait another 30 days. I thanked her for her time and immediately booked an appointment from the parking lot with a urologist in my HMO. At that consultation, he told me he could do it after three days. His version differed: two punctures; draw the vas deferens out through each; cut and cauterize; dissolving stitches. He promised minimal recovery and scarring.
“You’re aware this procedure is forever? Reversals are performable but not guaranteed effective.”
I thought of great loves who wanted children and I didn’t, the catalytic reason we parted.
I signed the form.
The day of, I shaved the incision area and took my generic Valium. I’d chosen local anesthetic so I could be conscious.
The nurses prepped me, bathing my genitals in warm iodine cleanser. They drew a curtain across my abdomen so I’d experience the entire surgery blind.
The doctor came in and made eye contact for final confirmation I understood the procedure’s permanence, then the wizard disappeared behind the curtain.
He announced everything before he did it, which was a comfort. A stick when the anesthetic went in. Pressure from the clamp before each puncture, an eerie discomfort running through my lower abdomen to my kidneys when the vas deferens was drawn out, like plucking a guitar string inside me. The heat of the cauterizing instrument.
Afterward, a nurse put mesh underwear on me to hold the packed gauze in place, warning me the iodine stain could mislead me that the gauze was bloodier than it was. They pulled my spandex bike shorts over that, the most supportive underwear I own.
I alternated ice on/ice off every fifteen minutes for the rest of the day. They told me to sleep with it on, with a towel as buffer. I took the prescribed pain meds and slept soundly.
Recovery completely depended on supporting the area and keeping everything as motionless as possible. Also, weight distribution: I was much more comfortable with my penis on its side, rather than between my testes. I had little passive pain, spiking only when I got up or sat down too fast. I took Tylenol in the daytime, the stiffer stuff after dinner.
The first encounter with real pain was during my first permitted shower on Day Three. Left to the mercy of gravity, the absence of support made everything so tender.
The second time was more acute, when I accidentally fell asleep on the fifth night naked. I woke up queasy, pain shooting to both kidneys. It immediately recalled the times I was crotch-kicked as a soccer goalie. Back in my bike shorts, the pain subsided—how I’d sleep until Day Ten.
I packed a diminishing amount of gauze daily to catch blood seepage from the no-scalpel incision, now on Day 20 a scab with a dime-size swollen knot beneath. I return in three months for an analysis to prove all my swimmers swam their last swim.
I hope my account demystifies the vasectomy and its recovery. Experience and pain tolerance may vary.
