Nothing more exciting for a writer
than a blank page, an idea
and some sharp pencils.
The painter in me loves
a blank canvas and new colors.
This New Year is a big blank calendar
full of new opportunity and endless possibility.
I'm so excited to greet 2012 ...
as if I'm standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon.
Sunshine kissing my face.
Grinning wide at the challenge, filled with hope.
Hope for a year full of new beginnings,
new adventures, new experiences.
Seems as soon as I place a 'check mark'
by one of my bucket list items,
I think of three new ideas to add.
Sleep didn't come easy, if at all,
while going through chemo.
I would quietly wander the house,
not wanting to wake anyone.
Three months into treatment,
with three more months to go.
Wrapped in a fleece blankie,
I rocked in my chair downstairs,
still dark, just before dawn,
bald, weak and very thin.
Sobbing until no more tears would fall.
The treatment was killing me.
Hello wall. I just can't do another treatment.
The next morning, my then 13-year-old son
made me his special waffles.
My 20-year-old daughter
gave me my daily shot in the tummy.
How could I possibly look into their eyes
and tell them mom wasn't going to finish the treatment?
That was the day I searched for Hope.
Thankfully I found it, or it found me?
I began hoping for just one more day, one more sunrise.
I believe, even with just the teeniest bit of hope,
the human spirit can thrive.
As soon as I medically could, I had this tattoo
(see below) engraved on my foot.
I love being able to see it every day.
It brings a smile to my face.
And reminds me to breathe.
What will YOU do with
all the sunrises you are given this year?
Happy New Year.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
The Gift, You.
After the search -- time and money spent.
Pretty gold and green wrapping paper.
Perfect corners, taped just so.
A big red bow ties it all together.
The perfect gift.
But, in this season of generosity,
it isn't the tangible gifts
that mean the most to me at all.
Cancer was not a gift.
But surviving it and receiving
my second chance at life,
most certainly was.
If there was truly a reason
for the hell I survived,
it was to recognize all the gifts around me.
And to look within for the gifts
I had to share with others.
Music is a little sweeter.
Colors are more magnificent.
Listening to the majestic sound
that flows from my son's trumpet.
Sharing a conversation with my daughter
and hearing her infectious laugh.
Sitting on the porch with my
soon-to-be 80-year-old dad.
Watching him smile for no real reason
except to be happy to have me there.
Running for miles, and feeling the wind
and ocean mist kiss my face.
Spending quiet time on my
yoga mat and feeling my breath.
To hold the hand of a patient recently
diagnosed with cancer and let them know,
I understand. They are not alone.
To breathe in
and breathe out every day.
These are the perfect gifts.
I believe, all of us possess incredible gifts.
Do you know what your gifts are?
It's time to shine.
To shine, brighter than the sun, today.
Pretty gold and green wrapping paper.
Perfect corners, taped just so.
A big red bow ties it all together.
The perfect gift.
But, in this season of generosity,
it isn't the tangible gifts
that mean the most to me at all.
Cancer was not a gift.
But surviving it and receiving
my second chance at life,
most certainly was.
If there was truly a reason
for the hell I survived,
it was to recognize all the gifts around me.
And to look within for the gifts
I had to share with others.
Music is a little sweeter.
Colors are more magnificent.
Listening to the majestic sound
that flows from my son's trumpet.
Sharing a conversation with my daughter
and hearing her infectious laugh.
Sitting on the porch with my
soon-to-be 80-year-old dad.
Watching him smile for no real reason
except to be happy to have me there.
Running for miles, and feeling the wind
and ocean mist kiss my face.
Spending quiet time on my
yoga mat and feeling my breath.
To hold the hand of a patient recently
diagnosed with cancer and let them know,
I understand. They are not alone.
To breathe in
and breathe out every day.
These are the perfect gifts.
I believe, all of us possess incredible gifts.
Do you know what your gifts are?
It's time to shine.
To shine, brighter than the sun, today.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Let there be peace.
Peace.
Tis the season.
Finding peace during the busiest time of year?
Ironic, eh?
Blinking lights. Busy sidewalks.
Crowded shopping malls.
Parties. Airports.
Our world ...
Craziness on the left.
Screaming on the right.
And here I am in the middle,
on a treasure hunt,
searching for peace.
Honestly, up until a few years ago,
my internal 'peace well' had not been tapped.
Am pretty sure my family and friends will attest,
internally I was wound up
and coiled tight like a spring.
Along came my life changer.
OH, now I get it:
Life without inner peace,
is, well, quite war-like.
Yoga class, helping a patient, or sitting in traffic,
now, every day I am in search of
finding my inner peace.
Basking in that peace,
is like rain washing over me.
It takes lots of practice.
There are still days when
I let the small stuff get to me.
But now I know to find my way back.
Eliminating all negative situations
is nearly impossible.
War, injustice, hypocrisy still angers me.
But, no matter how small my positive action,
it can make a difference.
Join me?
Peace. Let it begin with me.
Tis the season.
Finding peace during the busiest time of year?
Ironic, eh?
Blinking lights. Busy sidewalks.
Crowded shopping malls.
Parties. Airports.
Our world ...
Craziness on the left.
Screaming on the right.
And here I am in the middle,
on a treasure hunt,
searching for peace.
Honestly, up until a few years ago,
my internal 'peace well' had not been tapped.
Am pretty sure my family and friends will attest,
internally I was wound up
and coiled tight like a spring.
Along came my life changer.
OH, now I get it:
Life without inner peace,
is, well, quite war-like.
Yoga class, helping a patient, or sitting in traffic,
now, every day I am in search of
finding my inner peace.
Basking in that peace,
is like rain washing over me.
It takes lots of practice.
There are still days when
I let the small stuff get to me.
But now I know to find my way back.
Eliminating all negative situations
is nearly impossible.
War, injustice, hypocrisy still angers me.
But, no matter how small my positive action,
it can make a difference.
Join me?
Peace. Let it begin with me.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
On The Mend.
There I was, hanging out on a gurney.
Nervously pulling and straightening
my beautiful sky-blue hospital gown.
Waiting my turn to enter the OR
-- an unplanned date with Dr. Surgeon.
Just a week ago, pain meds were softening
the internal gnawing of my gut.
Gotta admit, I thought gall bladder issues
were for (sorry) fat people, older people
and people with diets full of deep-fried junk.
Umm, not me.
How was it, I was 'broken' again?
Take it easy. Let your body heal.
Don't do too much, too soon.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear you.
But here's the thing: I spent many
months unable to do anything.
Just plain-old walking was difficult.
Speaking was exhausting
(yes, you read that right :).
No surprise, muscles, bones and organs,
not being used begin to atrophy.
Rebuilding after atrophy, is a challenge.
Mending requires energy.
Positive powerful energy.
Yet, only after accepting we are broken,
can rebuilding happen.
Had read somewhere that a broken bone
often heals stronger than before the injury.
After some research, I found
the 'myth-busting' article in the New York Times.
Just like muscle, human bone grows
and strengthens under pressure,
and weakens when barely used.
Initially a callus forms at the break site.
As a result, there may be a brief period
in the healing process when the fracture
site is stronger than the surrounding bone.
But it soon all equals.
Starting right now.
Today.
Powerful healing energy.
Swirling all around you, through you.
Close your eyes, feel your body from within.
Feel it? That's the grace of life.
Let the re-building begin, again.
my beautiful sky-blue hospital gown.
Waiting my turn to enter the OR
-- an unplanned date with Dr. Surgeon.
Just a week ago, pain meds were softening
the internal gnawing of my gut.
Gotta admit, I thought gall bladder issues
were for (sorry) fat people, older people
and people with diets full of deep-fried junk.
Umm, not me.
How was it, I was 'broken' again?
Take it easy. Let your body heal.
Don't do too much, too soon.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear you.
But here's the thing: I spent many
months unable to do anything.
Just plain-old walking was difficult.
Speaking was exhausting
(yes, you read that right :).
No surprise, muscles, bones and organs,
not being used begin to atrophy.
Rebuilding after atrophy, is a challenge.
Mending requires energy.
Positive powerful energy.
Yet, only after accepting we are broken,
can rebuilding happen.
Had read somewhere that a broken bone
often heals stronger than before the injury.
After some research, I found
the 'myth-busting' article in the New York Times.
Just like muscle, human bone grows
and strengthens under pressure,
and weakens when barely used.
Initially a callus forms at the break site.
As a result, there may be a brief period
in the healing process when the fracture
site is stronger than the surrounding bone.
But it soon all equals.
Starting right now.
Today.
Powerful healing energy.
Swirling all around you, through you.
Close your eyes, feel your body from within.
Feel it? That's the grace of life.
Let the re-building begin, again.
Friday, December 2, 2011
The Space in Between.
Happy planning, dreaming and anticipating
filled the nine months.
The day arrives. A baby is born.
Life begins.
Unpredictable space-in-between.
Life ends.
Death doesn't acknowledge
nor does it respect any of our
best-laid plans and dreams.
Our 'space in between' doesn't
come with a time-line guarantee.
Though it does come
with a 'lifetime' warranty.
The length of our life is an unknown.
I believe (now) it's not necessarily
how long our lives may be,
but how well we choose to live.
About a month into chemotherapy,
I hit the wall. Hard.
Alone at home.
My hair coming out in handfuls.
My tummy swirling with nausea.
Big tears rolled down my cheeks.
I phoned Dr. Kim's office.
"Pretty sure I don't want to do this anymore," I whimpered.
"I understand. This isn't easy. You're doing great."
"Uh huh." Nervous laugh.
"Yup that's me, Wonder Woman.
I'm serious, no more chemo."
"We'll do whatever you want
because this is your challenge.
But I think you have strength
you haven't even tapped yet.
I'm here. Call me back if you need me."
Challenge, the noun: a call to battle.
Dr. Kim was right.
I'd never been one to
walk away from a challenge.
Cancer was calling me out
and I was determined
to use every weapon
in my arsenal to kick ass.
This arsenal was going
to include chemotherapy.
Of course we want to fill our 'spaces'
with joy, love, color, music -- all that good stuff.
The human spirit is strong,
but needs challenge for growth.
Not all challenges are about fighting the bad guy.
Challenge, the verb: summon to a contest of skill.
Rebuilding my physical body, stamina and strength
became my challenge
after treatment was completed.
Bootcamp? Me? Nah, too scary.
Now? Just two more weeks remain in class.
And I'm looking into enrolling
in the next bootcamp in January.
What a way to start the New Year.
Just four years ago my challenge was to climb
the stairs in my home without shortness of breath.
Tomorrow I'll be in Seattle
running my very first 5k !
Hmmm ... my next challenge ...
Physical? Mental? Emotional?
Not sure yet.
How are you personalizing your space-in-between?
filled the nine months.
The day arrives. A baby is born.
Life begins.
Unpredictable space-in-between.
Life ends.
Death doesn't acknowledge
nor does it respect any of our
best-laid plans and dreams.
Our 'space in between' doesn't
come with a time-line guarantee.
Though it does come
with a 'lifetime' warranty.
The length of our life is an unknown.
I believe (now) it's not necessarily
how long our lives may be,
but how well we choose to live.
About a month into chemotherapy,
I hit the wall. Hard.
Alone at home.
My hair coming out in handfuls.
My tummy swirling with nausea.
Big tears rolled down my cheeks.
I phoned Dr. Kim's office.
"Pretty sure I don't want to do this anymore," I whimpered.
"I understand. This isn't easy. You're doing great."
"Uh huh." Nervous laugh.
"Yup that's me, Wonder Woman.
I'm serious, no more chemo."
"We'll do whatever you want
because this is your challenge.
But I think you have strength
you haven't even tapped yet.
I'm here. Call me back if you need me."
Challenge, the noun: a call to battle.
Dr. Kim was right.
I'd never been one to
walk away from a challenge.
Cancer was calling me out
and I was determined
to use every weapon
in my arsenal to kick ass.
This arsenal was going
to include chemotherapy.
Of course we want to fill our 'spaces'
with joy, love, color, music -- all that good stuff.
The human spirit is strong,
but needs challenge for growth.
Not all challenges are about fighting the bad guy.
Challenge, the verb: summon to a contest of skill.
Rebuilding my physical body, stamina and strength
became my challenge
after treatment was completed.
Bootcamp? Me? Nah, too scary.
Now? Just two more weeks remain in class.
And I'm looking into enrolling
in the next bootcamp in January.
What a way to start the New Year.
Just four years ago my challenge was to climb
the stairs in my home without shortness of breath.
Tomorrow I'll be in Seattle
running my very first 5k !
Hmmm ... my next challenge ...
Physical? Mental? Emotional?
Not sure yet.
How are you personalizing your space-in-between?
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Be still.
An object in motion tends to remain in motion. Momentum.
Being still has always been very difficult for me.
Being 'at rest' could only mean
I wasn't doing enough.
Wasn't working hard enough.
Wasn't learning enough.
Wasn't dedicating enough time
for volunteering and
[single] parenting through military deployments.
Hunger, world peace, global warming
and the local PTA.
My god, who had time to be still?
Like a jet landing on an aircraft carrier,
cancer tailhooked my momentum.
My physical strength and life force
came to a screeching s l o w d o w n.
And life, as I knew it, changed, forever.
Thank heavens!
I wanted the hours, days, months
to fly by ...
The weekly chemo,
and then the daily radiation treatments
took nine months.
My mind still wanted to move at warp speed,
my physical body just couldn't comply.
For the first time in my life,
I was forced to, be still.
Who knew there was so much
to discover in being still?
The sweet sound of my daughter's giggle.
Feeling electricity when my son hits that
high note on his trumpet.
Close your eyes.
Even if just for a few minutes a day.
Listen to your breath.
Feel your belly rise and fall.
In this Stillness,
give yourself permission
to just, be.
Being still has always been very difficult for me.
Being 'at rest' could only mean
I wasn't doing enough.
Wasn't working hard enough.
Wasn't learning enough.
Wasn't dedicating enough time
for volunteering and
[single] parenting through military deployments.
Hunger, world peace, global warming
and the local PTA.
My god, who had time to be still?
Like a jet landing on an aircraft carrier,
cancer tailhooked my momentum.
My physical strength and life force
came to a screeching s l o w d o w n.
And life, as I knew it, changed, forever.
Thank heavens!
I wanted the hours, days, months
to fly by ...
The weekly chemo,
and then the daily radiation treatments
took nine months.
My mind still wanted to move at warp speed,
my physical body just couldn't comply.
For the first time in my life,
I was forced to, be still.
Who knew there was so much
to discover in being still?
The sweet sound of my daughter's giggle.
Feeling electricity when my son hits that
high note on his trumpet.
Close your eyes.
Even if just for a few minutes a day.
Listen to your breath.
Feel your belly rise and fall.
In this Stillness,
give yourself permission
to just, be.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Thanksgiving, Outside of the Box.
Thanksgiving Day.
Not far away.
It didn't surprise me when friends suggested
I write about 'being thankful' -- 'giving thanks'.
Seemed simple enough.
But everytime I tried to write ...
no matter how I tried to put a different 'spin on it' --
well, it all sounded just way too cliche.
Pretty sure we're all thankful for the
same big ticket items:
family & friends who love us, good health,
jobs, roof over our heads, food on the table.
Being thankful for what is so obviously 'good stuff'
is really just way too easy.
So, how about being thankful for all of the
little things we take for granted?
Hot showers, peanut M&Ms, music,
watercolor paints, apples,
honey bees, laptops, the ocean,
a good hot cup of coffee.
(Insert your list here).
Let's step outside the box for a minute.
What about being thankful for the darkness in life?
Without some rain, how does one appreciate the warmth of the sun?
Am I thankful for cancer?
Yes. I mean, no! Well, kinda?
I know that sounds crazy. Unbelievable really.
Please don't misunderstand,
not a ride I want to take again
and I am certainly not thankful
for cancer that has taken friends and family.
The late Gildna Radner
(who died of ovarian cancer
at age 42) said it best:
'If it wasn't for the downside, having cancer would
be the best thing and everyone would want it.'
I am grateful for the glory of life on the other side of my darkness.
Every day is thanksgiving.
Every day.
Not far away.
It didn't surprise me when friends suggested
I write about 'being thankful' -- 'giving thanks'.
Seemed simple enough.
But everytime I tried to write ...
no matter how I tried to put a different 'spin on it' --
well, it all sounded just way too cliche.
Pretty sure we're all thankful for the
same big ticket items:
family & friends who love us, good health,
jobs, roof over our heads, food on the table.
Being thankful for what is so obviously 'good stuff'
is really just way too easy.
So, how about being thankful for all of the
little things we take for granted?
Hot showers, peanut M&Ms, music,
watercolor paints, apples,
honey bees, laptops, the ocean,
a good hot cup of coffee.
(Insert your list here).
Let's step outside the box for a minute.
What about being thankful for the darkness in life?
Without some rain, how does one appreciate the warmth of the sun?
Am I thankful for cancer?
Yes. I mean, no! Well, kinda?
I know that sounds crazy. Unbelievable really.
Please don't misunderstand,
not a ride I want to take again
and I am certainly not thankful
for cancer that has taken friends and family.
The late Gildna Radner
(who died of ovarian cancer
at age 42) said it best:
'If it wasn't for the downside, having cancer would
be the best thing and everyone would want it.'
I am grateful for the glory of life on the other side of my darkness.
Every day is thanksgiving.
Every day.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Heart of the Matter
A beating heart.
The center of love.
The center of life.
Our hearts beat about 100,000 times each day.
How many of these beats can you account for?
How many heartbeats did you really feel?
No, I don't mean laying your finger against
your wrist or neck; not 'checking' your pulse.
I mean, how many of those beats did you make count today?
Passion. Our hearts are the 'heart' of our life power.
Hearts pumping and supplying
every cell with oxygen.
It's up to us to bring life to our moments,
as many moments each day as possible. Passion.
When my body was aching and healing,
I had lots of time to think about what
I was going to do with this second chance
I had been gifted.
It was time to start living from my heart.
Seeing the passion of the day: A maple tree
with scarlet leaves.
Tasting the passion of the day: A glass of merlot.
Rejoicing in the passion of the day: An hour
at the gym. Helping a patient at work.
Running in the rain.
It may all sound cliche, but before we know it,
a whole lotta 100,000 beats are going to fly by.
This week brought a new passion and
challenge - bootcamp.
There was a time, just a few years ago, when I could
barely walk up the stairs in my home.
Chemotherapy was zapping the nasty cancer cells and my good cells.
Now I'm mastering the army-crawl, pushing a football tackle dummy and running laps.
What a difference a few 100,000 beats makes.
This week I had the pleasure of meeting a hospice volunteer from a nearby city.
She just happened to be eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria, at the table right next to me.
Hmmm, fate or coincidence?
Or maybe a new passion?
Close your eyes. Be still.
Listen to your heart beat.
That's passion.
The center of love.
The center of life.
Our hearts beat about 100,000 times each day.
How many of these beats can you account for?
How many heartbeats did you really feel?
No, I don't mean laying your finger against
your wrist or neck; not 'checking' your pulse.
I mean, how many of those beats did you make count today?
Passion. Our hearts are the 'heart' of our life power.
Hearts pumping and supplying
every cell with oxygen.
It's up to us to bring life to our moments,
as many moments each day as possible. Passion.
When my body was aching and healing,
I had lots of time to think about what
I was going to do with this second chance
I had been gifted.
It was time to start living from my heart.
Seeing the passion of the day: A maple tree
with scarlet leaves.
Tasting the passion of the day: A glass of merlot.
Rejoicing in the passion of the day: An hour
at the gym. Helping a patient at work.
Running in the rain.
It may all sound cliche, but before we know it,
a whole lotta 100,000 beats are going to fly by.
This week brought a new passion and
challenge - bootcamp.
There was a time, just a few years ago, when I could
barely walk up the stairs in my home.
Chemotherapy was zapping the nasty cancer cells and my good cells.
Now I'm mastering the army-crawl, pushing a football tackle dummy and running laps.
What a difference a few 100,000 beats makes.
This week I had the pleasure of meeting a hospice volunteer from a nearby city.
She just happened to be eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria, at the table right next to me.
Hmmm, fate or coincidence?
Or maybe a new passion?
Close your eyes. Be still.
Listen to your heart beat.
That's passion.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Black and White and Rose-Colored, All Over.
Half full? Half empty?
Overflowing?
Aaahh, that proverbial glass.
How are your 'Optimist Junkie' skills?
Some folks are born hard-wired
with the optimism gene.
Others, like me, are 'born again' optimists.
And we are probably the most obnoxious.
We have found optimism.
Illness was my body's way of telling me, 'hey you, yeah you, something needs to change.'
When first diagnosed, I'll admit I faked a whole lotta optimism. Convincing others I was okay. Convincing me I was okay. If I wasn't positive, I didn't stand a chance? I was too afraid not to.
Family and friends chanting "Stay positive.
You gotta stay positive.
Being positive is how to beat cancer." Holy crap. That kind of pressure was exhausting.
Shortly after my chemo-port was installed, I developed two large blood clots. One in my subclavian vein (shoulder-collar bone area) and the other in my upper arm. This landed me in the hospital for an evening. Injections of blood thinners were necessary.
Later that night, afraid to move and dislodging Clarence (the ugly name I gave the ugly clot), with my 'good' arm, I ran my fingers through my hair ... about 20 strands fell on the white pillowcase.
Really? Seriously? Now? Laying here with Clarence wasn't enough stress?
Thus began, Laugh Instead of Cry 101. One of my first courses in becoming an Optimist Junkie.
There's more to becoming an optimist than just trying to be Miss Suzy Sunshine.
Being an optimist also means carving the negative out of your life.
Negative relationships, places,
and situations breed toxicity.
Though it may be impossible to remove all negativity from our lives ...
it is possible to have many,
many more glasses full of joy.
EnJOY today!
Overflowing?
Aaahh, that proverbial glass.
How are your 'Optimist Junkie' skills?
Some folks are born hard-wired
with the optimism gene.
Others, like me, are 'born again' optimists.
And we are probably the most obnoxious.
We have found optimism.
Illness was my body's way of telling me, 'hey you, yeah you, something needs to change.'
When first diagnosed, I'll admit I faked a whole lotta optimism. Convincing others I was okay. Convincing me I was okay. If I wasn't positive, I didn't stand a chance? I was too afraid not to.
Family and friends chanting "Stay positive.
You gotta stay positive.
Being positive is how to beat cancer." Holy crap. That kind of pressure was exhausting.
Shortly after my chemo-port was installed, I developed two large blood clots. One in my subclavian vein (shoulder-collar bone area) and the other in my upper arm. This landed me in the hospital for an evening. Injections of blood thinners were necessary.
Later that night, afraid to move and dislodging Clarence (the ugly name I gave the ugly clot), with my 'good' arm, I ran my fingers through my hair ... about 20 strands fell on the white pillowcase.
Really? Seriously? Now? Laying here with Clarence wasn't enough stress?
Thus began, Laugh Instead of Cry 101. One of my first courses in becoming an Optimist Junkie.
There's more to becoming an optimist than just trying to be Miss Suzy Sunshine.
Being an optimist also means carving the negative out of your life.
Negative relationships, places,
and situations breed toxicity.
Though it may be impossible to remove all negativity from our lives ...
it is possible to have many,
many more glasses full of joy.
EnJOY today!
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Seasons.
Change.
Seasons change.
People change.
Change can be scary.
But really, isn't change just
another word for growth?
Certainly, some of us are better than others in accepting life's change.
You may be more adaptable
than you give yourself credit.
What were you doing five years ago?
Has your life changed? I hope so.
You adapted, yes?
And you experienced personal growth, yes?
Basic Anatomy & Physiology shows the human body is in a constant state of flux.
Cells lining the stomach regenerate every five days. The human bones become 'new' every ten years or so. Liver, every 300 days. The ever-energetic red blood cells, speeding 1,000 mph through the body's circulatory system, 120 days.
With this much 'change' going on internally, how could we not do a little two-step externally?
Physical or emotional trauma
commands life change.
Life change, for me, happened in steps:
Fear
Survival
Grace
Clarity
Clarity is helping me see clearly all that is and isn't important|
and even more importantly, to live intentionally.
Go ahead, 'Stir it Up' ...
'cause life is subject to change.
Seasons change.
People change.
Change can be scary.
But really, isn't change just
another word for growth?
Certainly, some of us are better than others in accepting life's change.
You may be more adaptable
than you give yourself credit.
What were you doing five years ago?
Has your life changed? I hope so.
You adapted, yes?
And you experienced personal growth, yes?
Basic Anatomy & Physiology shows the human body is in a constant state of flux.
Cells lining the stomach regenerate every five days. The human bones become 'new' every ten years or so. Liver, every 300 days. The ever-energetic red blood cells, speeding 1,000 mph through the body's circulatory system, 120 days.
With this much 'change' going on internally, how could we not do a little two-step externally?
Physical or emotional trauma
commands life change.
Life change, for me, happened in steps:
Fear
Survival
Grace
Clarity
Clarity is helping me see clearly all that is and isn't important|
and even more importantly, to live intentionally.
Go ahead, 'Stir it Up' ...
'cause life is subject to change.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Namaste.
Couldn't have known.
My life was getting ready to change in a big, big way.
The year: mid-2006
Real estate was insane. If I wasn't out showing property, estimating values, or meeting with clients, I was at home with cell phone to ear. Wife. Mom. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Volunteer-extraordinaire.
Candles burning at both ends and in the middle. I knew I needed change and balance, but didn't know how to juggle one more plate.
Enter my virgin voyage into yoga.
Brand new yoga mat. New yoga clothes. This may not work, but at least I was color-coordinated.
All around me were such graceful, balanced AND quiet people!
Up-dog, down-dog, warrior poses, balance tree, monkey, twisted triange ... huh? I did my best to keep up, but it all felt like a game of Twister gone bad. My right foot should be where?
Before I knew it, class was over. I was getting ready to roll up my mat -- but all around me had become very still. Folks were laying on their mats, eyes closed. Okay, I'll play.
What seemed like an eternity went by.
I turned my head ever so slightly to the side and stole a peek ... no one was moving.
Wow, they all looked so relaxed.
Another eternity went by.
Holy crap, how long were we going to lay here? I'm pretty sure we need milk. Clients coming in this weekend and the car has been making a weird noise, need to get that checked. Sam needs to bring cookies to class tomorrow. Wonder if Kandace needs a ride to the game on Friday?
Okay, that's it, I'm outta here. Five or 50 minutes, whatever ... shavasana or sha-blah-blah-blah, it's been long enough and I've got things to do.
It was months later before my yoga mat and snappy yoga clothes budged from my closet.
But, this time my plate had been cleared for me. Diagnosis: Cancer. |
Life, or maybe it was death, shook me by the shoulders and said: "Time to make some major changes. Where you gonna start missy?"
With my 'main course' of cancer, came many healthy side dishes of clarity, perspective, balance, quiet and peace. And yoga? It's been five years since I began my journey with yoga, but it's my dessert, of sorts. It's my deep breath in a crazy, happy, busy world.
In Sanskrit, "Namaste" means the spirit in me respects the spirit in you.
Light and love to you.
Namaste my friend.
My life was getting ready to change in a big, big way.
The year: mid-2006
Real estate was insane. If I wasn't out showing property, estimating values, or meeting with clients, I was at home with cell phone to ear. Wife. Mom. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Volunteer-extraordinaire.
Candles burning at both ends and in the middle. I knew I needed change and balance, but didn't know how to juggle one more plate.
Enter my virgin voyage into yoga.
Brand new yoga mat. New yoga clothes. This may not work, but at least I was color-coordinated.
All around me were such graceful, balanced AND quiet people!
Up-dog, down-dog, warrior poses, balance tree, monkey, twisted triange ... huh? I did my best to keep up, but it all felt like a game of Twister gone bad. My right foot should be where?
Before I knew it, class was over. I was getting ready to roll up my mat -- but all around me had become very still. Folks were laying on their mats, eyes closed. Okay, I'll play.
What seemed like an eternity went by.
I turned my head ever so slightly to the side and stole a peek ... no one was moving.
Wow, they all looked so relaxed.
Another eternity went by.
Holy crap, how long were we going to lay here? I'm pretty sure we need milk. Clients coming in this weekend and the car has been making a weird noise, need to get that checked. Sam needs to bring cookies to class tomorrow. Wonder if Kandace needs a ride to the game on Friday?
Okay, that's it, I'm outta here. Five or 50 minutes, whatever ... shavasana or sha-blah-blah-blah, it's been long enough and I've got things to do.
It was months later before my yoga mat and snappy yoga clothes budged from my closet.
But, this time my plate had been cleared for me. Diagnosis: Cancer. |
Life, or maybe it was death, shook me by the shoulders and said: "Time to make some major changes. Where you gonna start missy?"
With my 'main course' of cancer, came many healthy side dishes of clarity, perspective, balance, quiet and peace. And yoga? It's been five years since I began my journey with yoga, but it's my dessert, of sorts. It's my deep breath in a crazy, happy, busy world.
In Sanskrit, "Namaste" means the spirit in me respects the spirit in you.
Light and love to you.
Namaste my friend.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
If You Only Knew ...
Kindness.
I believe simple, random or intentional,
acts of kindness could be THE answer.
Yup, a little kindness, in its most simple form could solve some,
if not all of our big-ticket issues:
Democrats vs. Republicans.
Or Republicans vs. Democrats. (Man I despise 'election' years!)
This religion vs. that religion.
War. Wall Street. World hunger.
None of us will leave this life without a few emotional bumps and bruises.
On any given day we are surrounded by friends, family and certainly complete strangers who are 'walking wounded' -- we aren't always privy to the pain, fear, or loneliness any of us carry.
I remember the day as if it was yesterday. Was standing in the express-line at Safeway. Just a few days after my first chemo infusion. Didn't look ill. Didn't necessarily feel ill. Hair still on my head. No one could possibly know I was a Stage III cancer patient.
Fella in front of me had more than the 15 items.
Ms. Cashier was not having it. Mr. Customer became indignant.
Before it got out of hand, I interjected with a smile, "It's okay. I'm not in any hurry."
The tension eased immediately. Maybe they too, were dealing with tough issues?
Guess if we all walked around with yellow-stickies of our troubles stuck to our foreheads, maybe compassion and kindness would be easier to give? Am not always successful, but I try to remind myself, your hurts and life 'owies' aren't always visible on the outside.
Maybe nice guys can finish first? Maybe not, but I know I'll never regret being nice.
I believe simple, random or intentional,
acts of kindness could be THE answer.
Yup, a little kindness, in its most simple form could solve some,
if not all of our big-ticket issues:
Democrats vs. Republicans.
Or Republicans vs. Democrats. (Man I despise 'election' years!)
This religion vs. that religion.
War. Wall Street. World hunger.
None of us will leave this life without a few emotional bumps and bruises.
On any given day we are surrounded by friends, family and certainly complete strangers who are 'walking wounded' -- we aren't always privy to the pain, fear, or loneliness any of us carry.
I remember the day as if it was yesterday. Was standing in the express-line at Safeway. Just a few days after my first chemo infusion. Didn't look ill. Didn't necessarily feel ill. Hair still on my head. No one could possibly know I was a Stage III cancer patient.
Fella in front of me had more than the 15 items.
Ms. Cashier was not having it. Mr. Customer became indignant.
Before it got out of hand, I interjected with a smile, "It's okay. I'm not in any hurry."
The tension eased immediately. Maybe they too, were dealing with tough issues?
Guess if we all walked around with yellow-stickies of our troubles stuck to our foreheads, maybe compassion and kindness would be easier to give? Am not always successful, but I try to remind myself, your hurts and life 'owies' aren't always visible on the outside.
Maybe nice guys can finish first? Maybe not, but I know I'll never regret being nice.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
PINK
In the coloring book of life, color me PINK !!
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month.
This means there's a whole lotta pink. Everywhere.
Pink ribbons plastered on facebook, hospital walls, yogurt lids, cupcakes
-- pink, pink, PINK !
Mind you, pink wasn't always one of my favorite colors. Nope, in my crayola box, the 'pink' crayon remained like a soldier in his place, bright and shiny tip, from non-use.
My chemo treatment was in full swing when the pink blanket of October 2007 arrived. Those damn pink ribbons were everywhere --taunting me. I couldn't escape. Hey Mr. and Mrs. Corporate America, how 'bout you just donate money to cancer research -- makes a difference if we all save ten yogurt lids and mail them to you?
Now? Bubble gum pink ribbons ... go ahead, bring 'em on! Pink is the proud battle garment for all women fighting breast cancer. Pink should be a reminder to you, your sister, your mom, your daughter, your wife, your girlfriend, that early dectection is our best defense in battling the beast.
Breast cancer gets the press = gets the donation buck = gets the research. All cancers suck. In recognition of the other cancers:
White: Lung
Yellow: Bone
Sky Blue: Colon
Jade: Liver
Purple: Pancreatic
Periwinkle: Esophageal
Orange: Leukemia
Gray: Brain
Teal: Ovarian
Violet: Hodgkins Lymphoma
Gold: Childhood Cancer
While helping a woman at the hospital this week, she pointed to the hospital's Breast Cancer Awareness banner, "I need to make an appointment, but those mammograms really hurt."
I touched her arm and looked her in the eye, "My friend, honestly, I know first hand, mammograms don't hurt as much as a year of chemo treatment and recovery."
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month.
This means there's a whole lotta pink. Everywhere.
Pink ribbons plastered on facebook, hospital walls, yogurt lids, cupcakes
-- pink, pink, PINK !
Mind you, pink wasn't always one of my favorite colors. Nope, in my crayola box, the 'pink' crayon remained like a soldier in his place, bright and shiny tip, from non-use.
My chemo treatment was in full swing when the pink blanket of October 2007 arrived. Those damn pink ribbons were everywhere --taunting me. I couldn't escape. Hey Mr. and Mrs. Corporate America, how 'bout you just donate money to cancer research -- makes a difference if we all save ten yogurt lids and mail them to you?
Now? Bubble gum pink ribbons ... go ahead, bring 'em on! Pink is the proud battle garment for all women fighting breast cancer. Pink should be a reminder to you, your sister, your mom, your daughter, your wife, your girlfriend, that early dectection is our best defense in battling the beast.
Breast cancer gets the press = gets the donation buck = gets the research. All cancers suck. In recognition of the other cancers:
White: Lung
Yellow: Bone
Sky Blue: Colon
Jade: Liver
Purple: Pancreatic
Periwinkle: Esophageal
Orange: Leukemia
Gray: Brain
Teal: Ovarian
Violet: Hodgkins Lymphoma
Gold: Childhood Cancer
While helping a woman at the hospital this week, she pointed to the hospital's Breast Cancer Awareness banner, "I need to make an appointment, but those mammograms really hurt."
I touched her arm and looked her in the eye, "My friend, honestly, I know first hand, mammograms don't hurt as much as a year of chemo treatment and recovery."
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Full Circles and Brain Burns
My dad is a man of very few words. Though, he hasn't always been that way.
Used to be a family joke: 'don't ever ask Dad anything you didn't want to know too much about.'
A family shopping trip to Sears could take much longer than planned. When Dad decided to tell the refrigerator salesperson about his recent gall bladder surgery, an upcoming elk hunt or recent trip to Japan, we knew to find a comfy spot and wait it out.
As a little girl in Michigan, I spent many a Saturday at the Grand Trunk Railroad station hanging in the train tower with Dad and his work buddies.
It was mid 1960, Dad was healthy, early 30s, hard-working with a quick mind and easy dimpled smile. For hours the fellas talked trains and drank dark black coffee. I loved to swing on the track switching levers; they knew I'd never be able to make those stubborn levers budge. Being around trains is a dream come true for most 5-year-olds; I was no different.
Brain burns. Train Saturdays are one of my very first brain burns.
Brain burns are snapshots we take with our heart. Moments in time that make up our life.
About a year ago, my Dad suffered a stroke.
Now his gait is unsteady.
His speech isn't what it used to be.
This evening, while helping him out of the car, I noticed his shoe was untied.
"Dad, let me tie your shoe," I said as I kneeled next to him.
He smiled at me and said, "I remember when I used to tie your shoes."
A new brain burn to file. I hope you'll create some 'brain burns' today.
Used to be a family joke: 'don't ever ask Dad anything you didn't want to know too much about.'
A family shopping trip to Sears could take much longer than planned. When Dad decided to tell the refrigerator salesperson about his recent gall bladder surgery, an upcoming elk hunt or recent trip to Japan, we knew to find a comfy spot and wait it out.
As a little girl in Michigan, I spent many a Saturday at the Grand Trunk Railroad station hanging in the train tower with Dad and his work buddies.
It was mid 1960, Dad was healthy, early 30s, hard-working with a quick mind and easy dimpled smile. For hours the fellas talked trains and drank dark black coffee. I loved to swing on the track switching levers; they knew I'd never be able to make those stubborn levers budge. Being around trains is a dream come true for most 5-year-olds; I was no different.
Brain burns. Train Saturdays are one of my very first brain burns.
Brain burns are snapshots we take with our heart. Moments in time that make up our life.
About a year ago, my Dad suffered a stroke.
Now his gait is unsteady.
His speech isn't what it used to be.
This evening, while helping him out of the car, I noticed his shoe was untied.
"Dad, let me tie your shoe," I said as I kneeled next to him.
He smiled at me and said, "I remember when I used to tie your shoes."
A new brain burn to file. I hope you'll create some 'brain burns' today.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Why?
I was a Tuesday Girl -- hanging at the Chemo Bar with my fellow patrons. Eight of us attached to our poles, the 'good' poison dripping. Different cancers. Different diagnosis. Different ages. Different backgrounds, men, women -- all united by this ugly, sh*tty cancer.
Happened upon my friend "Bob" this week. Bob had lymphoma. I walked into the hospital cafeteria and there he was having lunch with his wife, laughing, looking good. Our eyes caught. Big smiles. We are the only two left out of our Tuesday family of eight.
"Take THAT cancer!" he said, as he fist pumped.
"Bob" and I had come a long way.
He was a gruff and grumpy old dude when we started treatment. Dragging my pole behind me, I would bring him warm blankies and coffee. Told him corny jokes. Whatever I could do to make him smile. We saw each other through some tough days. He gave me fatherly advice about life. We were an odd couple.
We didn't know WHY this had happened to us. But we did know, we weren't going to waste any time trying to figure it out. We were gonna kick a$$ and take names later.
It's been four years. Those Tuesdays and those friendships aren't something I'll ever forget.
Nor do I want to.
Sometimes, sh*t happens.
Sometimes there's no explaining it.
Sometimes it will never make sense.
Sometimes it just IS what it IS.
Sometimes it's just not worth the energy to figure out 'why.'
Why are "Bob" and I surviving? Can't know, so:
Life is sweet. Stay young, go dancing.
Happened upon my friend "Bob" this week. Bob had lymphoma. I walked into the hospital cafeteria and there he was having lunch with his wife, laughing, looking good. Our eyes caught. Big smiles. We are the only two left out of our Tuesday family of eight.
"Take THAT cancer!" he said, as he fist pumped.
"Bob" and I had come a long way.
He was a gruff and grumpy old dude when we started treatment. Dragging my pole behind me, I would bring him warm blankies and coffee. Told him corny jokes. Whatever I could do to make him smile. We saw each other through some tough days. He gave me fatherly advice about life. We were an odd couple.
We didn't know WHY this had happened to us. But we did know, we weren't going to waste any time trying to figure it out. We were gonna kick a$$ and take names later.
It's been four years. Those Tuesdays and those friendships aren't something I'll ever forget.
Nor do I want to.
Sometimes, sh*t happens.
Sometimes there's no explaining it.
Sometimes it will never make sense.
Sometimes it just IS what it IS.
Sometimes it's just not worth the energy to figure out 'why.'
Why are "Bob" and I surviving? Can't know, so:
Life is sweet. Stay young, go dancing.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Uh. Throat clearing. Wiggling and stretching of fingers over the keyboard.
H e l l o.
Ummm. Oh my gosh, here goes ...
I'm so excited, I can't stand it. I'm writing. And it's OUT there, for the whole world to see.
Pencil stuck through my ponytail, tunes playing, coffee -- it's time. Overdue actually.
I can remember writing very creative short stories as early as third grade. High school editor-in-chief then on to 'real' newspapers in Arizona, Nevada, California and Washington. Sportswriter, courthouse-beat reporter, lifestyle editor, city news editor. Can smell the ink, the rolls of newsprint. Can hear the tickety-tap of the AP newswire bringing us the latest information.
When words, emotion, and passion easily flow together -- it's, well, magic!
Sure, I still have hopes of publishing that best-selling novel someday, BUT, for today, enter Facebook and Blogger.
As some of you know, a few years ago, cancer shook me right to the core. Now? Every day I search for new ways to breathe, discover, dream, enjoy and celebrate -- ahh, the name of this blog. :)
What will you find in my blog? Hopefully something that makes you smile. Nah, not just a pretend smile -- I mean a real smile. A smile that starts in your heart and lights up your eyes. Hopefully you'll find something that inspires you and makes you think or possibly re-think. Your return notes to my FB posts have been my encouragement to create this space of mine. You have been my inspiration! Thank you!
Beth, one of my best friends, recently asked me, "Don't you ever slow down?"
Ummm, no. As far back as I can remember, I've never been one to sit still for very long.
But now, there's a different purpose in my motion.
Yeah, we still gotta pay the bills, clean the toilet and go to the dentist ... but, if we do this right, we can live and breathe and dance
passionately.
I hope you'll come back and visit soon.
H e l l o.
Ummm. Oh my gosh, here goes ...
I'm so excited, I can't stand it. I'm writing. And it's OUT there, for the whole world to see.
Pencil stuck through my ponytail, tunes playing, coffee -- it's time. Overdue actually.
I can remember writing very creative short stories as early as third grade. High school editor-in-chief then on to 'real' newspapers in Arizona, Nevada, California and Washington. Sportswriter, courthouse-beat reporter, lifestyle editor, city news editor. Can smell the ink, the rolls of newsprint. Can hear the tickety-tap of the AP newswire bringing us the latest information.
When words, emotion, and passion easily flow together -- it's, well, magic!
Sure, I still have hopes of publishing that best-selling novel someday, BUT, for today, enter Facebook and Blogger.
As some of you know, a few years ago, cancer shook me right to the core. Now? Every day I search for new ways to breathe, discover, dream, enjoy and celebrate -- ahh, the name of this blog. :)
What will you find in my blog? Hopefully something that makes you smile. Nah, not just a pretend smile -- I mean a real smile. A smile that starts in your heart and lights up your eyes. Hopefully you'll find something that inspires you and makes you think or possibly re-think. Your return notes to my FB posts have been my encouragement to create this space of mine. You have been my inspiration! Thank you!
Beth, one of my best friends, recently asked me, "Don't you ever slow down?"
Ummm, no. As far back as I can remember, I've never been one to sit still for very long.
But now, there's a different purpose in my motion.
Yeah, we still gotta pay the bills, clean the toilet and go to the dentist ... but, if we do this right, we can live and breathe and dance
passionately.
I hope you'll come back and visit soon.
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