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?
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