Cancer Musings

impact vs. productivity

| lemonbalm79

Today I woke up with anxiety over my giant to-do list and the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. This is normal for me, but this morning felt particularly heavy. So I did what I often do repeating to myself like a mantra….”You are not saving lives. It’s ok. If stuff doesn’t all get done today, so be it. It will be there tomorrow. It’s all going to be ok.”

It kind of helps, along with some deep ocean breaths, but on my bike ride to Grow Hub I was feeling a pang in my chest. Guess it wasn’t working enough. I talked to myself out loud all the way there, going over all the things I needed to do today, tomorrow, and next month to try to organize it. It’s  also common for me to talk out loud to myself and I’ve been observed doing this much to people’s amusement! I have entire conversations with someone, I’m not quite sure who. Like, all the time. 

I arrived, parked my bike, and greeted the smiling people that are always happy because they’re at Grow Hub! I passed off some of my list to Sarah, helped her wrangle some details and people, talked to a reporter there to do a story, ran around helping other folks get what they needed for their day, and then finally started trying to “get to work”. 

Well, it was one of those days where nothing would be checked off my list. I took a deep breath. But there is JUST. SO. MUCH. Deep ocean breath. Sometimes I get really frustrated and resentful in these moments. But not today.

I just surrendered. Crumpled up the list, to save for another day. Today was a day to lean in, and remember and revel in the why I work, and not obsess over the details. For the first time in a long time I said to myself and agreed- “It’s OK to just sit here with these folks who you care a lot about and simply enjoy their company. You don’t have to be here today to check things off your list. And anyway, why can’t this be something that’s on the list?”

Myself and 6 of the lovely people that work at Grow Hub chatted as we fiddled with a few seed packets on the front porch. Later a few other members of the Board of Directors wandered in for our monthly meeting. Everyone was chatty today. The weather has been a relief and so lovely, the sun shining, the sky super duper blue. Those Florida skies and fall days! So why not just forget the list and enjoy the day?!

With a porch like this, why not enjoy it more especially on these gorgeous fall days?!

I realized as I was talking with one of the newest employees at Grow Hub, that we were all experiencing a profound moment together with her. At 30 -something with severe social anxiety (and somewhere on the autism spectrum I would presume but I don’t really know), smart as a whip- she had never been able to maintain employment. After a few weeks of coming out of her shell, slowly being coaxed to join us in the gardens, in the gallery, and on the porch, she was entirely comfortable- enthusiastic actually- to just sit and chat. Here, challenges are met with acceptance and kindness in a beautiful space. She was overflowing with ideas of how she could help Grow Hub, and was excited to share them all and know she was valued – as is. 

Gwen told me how much she loves packing seeds (I already know this, she tells me every time!) and to let her know when we do it again. Deal! Joan was so relaxed she nodded off sitting upright. I wish I could do that. Rosa quietly and attentively put little stickers on seed packets (also her favorite thing except maybe for crocheting little pot holders). She was happy to be back after a health scare that had her away from us for a couple of weeks. We missed her.

I didn’t know which way to go when I arrived, scattered and anxious. Then it became clear, when I was just able to let go.

After most of the rides came to get the crew and whisk them home,  it was just the new girl and I left sitting on the porch. She told me freely how much she loved it here. How much she looked forward to it, how it was the first job she had where she felt safe. Where she didn’t feel as though squashing herself down to try to fit in was necessary. Where she didn’t melt into a puddle of despair after a hard day. She was excited to come to work and share her ideas.

This is why I work. Today may not have been productive, but it sure was impactful. I accomplished and participated in some seriously important work today, and not one damn thing was checked off my list. 

However I will say, that while I sat and received this gift today, due to previous days of  organizing, discussing, coordinating, and calling….nearly 60 yards of compost was delivered to the gardens over at GRACE Grows and one of our youth program sites at Wilhelmina Johnson Center. Sarah and our awesome volunteers sowed hundreds of little seeds, watered them and loved on them, in the hopes they will grow into nourishing plants tucked into home, school, and community gardens around the city. That’s something! And someone’s life shifted today, having found a safe place not just to land, but to grow. And I was there to see it. 

After a day of impactful work, the bike ride home felt a lot different than it did coming in. I got home and changed quickly to head out for my annual check up from the oncologist. I don’t get scans anymore, just blood work, vitals, 20 questions, and a little poking and prodding. Everything was all clear. As expected, but you never know. 

Yep. Today was a day to just revel, surrender, and be grateful for this beautiful life and day. I had these lessons revealed to me loud and clear during my ordeal with cancer. But they have faded over time, as I slid back into the crazy world most of us inhabit that values productivity and busy-ness over all else. Today was a day to remember that life is too short to be dominated by an anxiety-inducing checklist.

Besides, every checklist for the day should have “enjoy!” written at the very top.

Ashley, Joan, Cyd, Shaquille and me. Love!

40th year and 4 wonderful things

| lemonbalm79

This is my 40th year. In July I’ll officially have lived on this planet for 40 years. Lucky me! It’s been one hell of a ride.

I embrace aging, and they were right! All those wise people told me growing up that it gets better, and at this point at least, I’d have to agree! The lines deep around my eyes are testament to my time outdoors observing wildlife, sowing seeds, and smiling and laughing a lot. The past 5 years in particular have really been powerful, aging me sublimely like a good wine. If it gets better than this, I’m ready for more!

In my 40th year, there are FOUR big things I’ve recognized as powerful driving forces and milestones. In no particular order:

ONE

It’s the first time in 7 years, that I will not have to lie in a CT scanning tunnel, wondering what the machine is seeing inside my body. I’m cured of cancer, and this is the first year I won’t have to schedule that appointment. As you may have read in previous posts, despite the insanity of navigating a life with cancer, I am grateful for the experience, the lessons, the perspectives. The greatest, most fucked up gift I’ve ever received. But this year, I won’t devote one minute to sitting in a scrubbed sterile, cramped, dreadful medical facility.

Peace out, hope to never come back here again unless I’m volunteering or something.

TWO

I’ll become a US citizen next week! Don’t get emotional on me, or assume I’ve made a huge mistake with this awful political climate here. I WANT to be here. Even though I am from Canada- a safe, polite, and typically more liberal country, this is home. Gainesville, Florida has it’s wild and succulent roots growing throughout me and there is no way I can leave. I want to vote, I want to know I will not be evicted from this place. Home is where Mike, Huxley, Gwen, my friends, my nature, my gardens, my seeds, my life is.

Yay!!! I’ll do my part to make America stay great and maybe get a little bit better? USA!

THREE

The non-profit business I’ve incubated for years with Anna, and more recently Maya, Sarah and now Jesse (holy women powerhouse team!) is really, like really, growing this year. For years I’ve built this seed program little by little, and as we slowly made our way to the national scene-we have reached a point where two major federal projects were funded to help us magnify the work we do with regional seed.

Little, little me in my Gainesville bubble, is sought out by people around the country to help write project proposals, plan national conferences, serve on advisory boards, and collaborate on powerful projects. So many beautiful threads have been woven along the way that are too long to list but suffice it to say, have created this tapestry of community, food, seed, art….that is beyond what I could have imagined.

Well. That’s not entirely true. These things were on my vision board for sure. I dreamed them and worked really fucking hard to make them happen. But in reality, in the flesh, in our office, in our gardens, in our event space – they are so real, so beautiful, so beyond what is contained within them, that it was impossible to know what this felt like. I almost can’t believe it, and pinch myself. Is this really happening?

So many things to grow, so little time!

FOUR

Corn. Yes, corn. Let me explain. Clearly you know by now I’m a seed freak. Early in my gardening days, I advocated against people growing and eating corn. It wasn’t good for you, required a lot of fertilizer and water, often presented itself as mono-cropped GMOS sucking out the rich prairie soils and eliminating habitat in the mid-west, purely to be sold as high fructose corn syrup and ethanol.

That’s all true, but corn is SO much more. I learned over the years from very wise people about the true nature and story of corn, as an ancestral crop that sustained people over many thousands of years, coaxed from the wild into unimaginable diverse varieties spanning the globe. Corn was beyond good for you if treated respectfully. Then I learned about seeds and saving them…and corn frightened me. It seemed the most daunting: easily crossed with other corns within miles, required a really high number of plants to grow in order to have good genetic diversity, and then the giant ears, the shucking….naaaaa. I was saving that project for later. Some time down the road when I was ready.

Well this year, after a few years of dabbling, it’s happening and I didn’t really see it coming. A valuable, endangered, heirloom that only a few in our community have been passionately and desperately trying to keep alive—really needs my help. I won’t be growing it myself like I did last year or 3 years prior, but I am connecting the dots, to the right people to do it. This year it’s not me. I can’t. But I know who can.

Yesterday, in a quaint old Florida home, nestled in the back woods of Cross Creek, where it feels like you’ve stepped way back in time, I convened with 3 other beautiful people to discuss the plight, opportunity, and plan of attack for saving this corn. Like me, it belongs here. So I’ll fight to save it. If we can successfully revive it and share it, it will surely make once again as it did as far back as the 1800’s, the finest grits, the best bourbon, and the tastiest cornbread.

Community, responsibility, corn! Left to right: Karen Sherwood, Jack Simmons, Sally Morrison and me!

So 40 is looking great! Cancer-free, the rights and responsibilities of citizenship, a meaningful career, and corn! What more is a girl to want? Oh, I also learned how to floss (the dance, not the dental hygiene practice), and my sweet little niece will be turning 1!

 

 

 

 

death happens

| lemonbalm79

I’ve been attuned to death lately. As a cancer survivor, and someone that has experienced many times, the loss that death brings, it’s not a scary or uncomfortable topic. My dad and his brother died tragically when I was only 3. My mother died 8 years ago. That same month, my best friend’s dad was killed. My grandparents on my mother’s side are both gone. Two friends recently left this Earth after a struggle with cancer. Another friend this year, to suicide. I’ve been in enough close calls throughout my life in vehicles, airboats, and doing field work, to feel like a cat tallying up its count towards 9 lives.

I have friends deeply involved with the local conservation cemetery that dig graves and manage the land. I got a good sense of that place, when I thought my number might possibly be up, scouting for the best plot. Full sun, so wildflowers could grow. Or maybe in a shady spot, for the comfort of any future visitors to my last little resting spot.

Loving the outdoors, and all the things that fly, crawl, and run, I notice death everywhere. Deer bone remains scattered in the woods, butterflies snagged by a lynx spider, song birds killed from flying into a window, mangled raccoons on the side of the road. I love nature shows, but since childhood and to this day, have trouble watching a prey animal be hunted. I feel horror for them, and see the pain and panic in their eyes. But if they escape, I feel equally horrible for the hungry predator and its family, that may starve to death.

Sadly, butterflies become trapped in my greenhouse. I always try to rescue them, but inevitably, some are missed.

I worked at a vet clinic for many years throughout high school and college, and contributed to lots of animal deaths, holding a beloved family pet in its final moments. I’ve held my own beloved fur balls in their last moments too, shedding tears onto their soft fur and limp bodies.

I know the horrors of factory farming, and have participated in local, small scale humane chicken butchering. I talk to food producer friends, about the challenges of raising and slaughtering their own animals, and dealing with their predators. It’s not easy, and usually fraught with heartache.

I feel grief for the deaths of ecosystems. I remember soaring over this beautiful state in a plane several years ago after a terrible oil leak, weeping for the widespread loss of animals, soil, plants, and human livelihoods. The guilt was not lost on me, that I was flying in a gas guzzling plane that demands the same oil, that was gushing into the Gulf killing everything.

I kill plants all the time, and feel a bit of sadness when I do. Does the kale I raised tenderly from a seed, recoil when I rip it’s stems off, week after week? Recently, when a large oak in our yard had to be removed, I felt an ache and emptiness when standing where it once was, like I had lost a friend. I wondered if the tree, and all the critters living within it had suffered, as chain saws tore through the tissue that took years to build. I don’t know…with all that science is discovering about the sophistication of plants in their environment, I can’t help but feel kinship and responsibility toward them.

Death is just always something I am aware of. But the past couple of months have been particularly heavy with the reminders.

Recently, I had to say good bye to my beloved Arthur Kitty, the famous Squash Cat. In the past 3 days, 3 of our chickens died. One brutally by an opossum which was dreadful to witness, and another after two days of me trying to nurse her to health.

My friend PJ died unexpectedly this week. While we weren’t particularly close, PJ meant a lot to me, and I had assumed we’d be working on projects together for many years to come. He started a little seed library with just a bit of my help and some starter seeds. A man after my own heart! He was just the sweetest person. What the hell.

The beautiful altar for PJ that friends adorned with gifts and mementos.

Today, an acquaintance I see regularly out and about at various events we cross paths at, spent time with me in the sugarcane field (killing plants with a machete). He shared with me that for over a year, he’d been wanting to tell me that the love of his life, died from cancer 20 years ago. He told me their story, both the beautiful parts, and the tragic end. Three squeezes of the hand was their signal to say “I love you”. She gave 3 squeezes in her last moments. He wanted to share this, after reading my blog and learning of my cancer story. I was so grateful he told me, opening up his heart to mine.

I don’t mind all the reminders of death, which is omnipresent and hand in hand with life itself. I don’t mind, because they invoke gratitude, love, and respect for life, at the same time that they leave me feeling broken.

Life’s worth is more tangible and heartfelt, because of death. The sun wouldn’t be as glorious, if it never rained. Flowers wouldn’t be so special, if they were always in bloom. The loss of a friend, a pet, a place, wouldn’t be so painful, if we hadn’t loved them so much.

So don’t miss a chance to express your gratitude and love. You never know when the last time to give or get three squeezes will be.

 

 

 

 

being bald

| lemonbalm79

This is a huge concern for people that go through treatment which results in hair loss. I am glad to finally write about it. It came up recently when my friend Carolyn asked, because her mother was facing this situation. It can be a difficult thing to manage and accept.

For the first phase of my treatment, when I only had radiation and surgery, very few people knew what I was going through. Only those that needed to know, did. Everyone else, even close friends I kept out of my business. I don’t fully know why. Part of me wanted to tell them, the other part didn’t want to upset them, to have to talk about it, to be vulnerable I guess. I don’t know, I just chose not to. But it was hard at times not to be honest.

One weekend at the beach with many of my closest friends, who had come from all over to re-unite as we try for annually, I recall feeling this sense of guilt. My butt was hurting from the treatment I was receiving, and the deep conversations we would have about health, life, careers…well I was leaving something major out. I couldn’t for some reason, tell them why I was feeling a bit tired, and tried to hide my physical discomfort.

But when the cancer spread and I agreed to go through chemo, I was was faced with the inevitable fate of hair loss. I struggled with the vainness of being a bald woman. Even though about half the time the mess I call hair was tied back, knotted, wind strewn, and full of debris (this is a very normal condition for my hair!), it was still a head of hair. I could still look feminine, clean up nice, style it once in a great while. Not having it was going to make me look a lot different, and, it meant I would HAVE to tell people I had cancer. It was a moment of defeat, and acceptance.

DSC_0214
On this day, I was contemplating my future. I had just received news that cancer had spread and that things were much more serious now. I didn’t know what was next. My long hair was about to become a thing of the past.

Here’s my take on it. Everyone is different.

I cut my hair very short leading up to the time when it would start falling out. Then I cut it even shorter. It made me feel like I had some control of the situation. One night in bed, it was coming out in gobs. It was awful and I didn’t want anything to do with it. I leapt out of bed, grabbed the clippers and shaved it off. There, done. Mike helped. No more waiting, no more seeing gobs of hair, it was too upsetting.

Wigs

I thought I’d be totally all about wigs! Maybe even get some fun colored ones like my friend Patricia had. I got a few, and one really cool one too. The American Cancer Society had free real human hair wigs, so I got one of those but ended up not liking the style. It was too poofy and heavy! In the end, I wore 1 wig about 2 or 3 times and stashed it away for future Halloween costumes. It was itchy and hot. I didn’t care enough about how awesome it made me look and feel, to bear the discomfort. But for some people, it can really help to feel normal and confident. No one looked at me funny or sympathetically when I wore it because I was just normal. In fact, I remember getting compliments on my hair from strangers on the couple of occasions I wore it out. Never had that before!

Seriously though, how cool do I look in this picture? This wig was killer. I just wish it were more comfortable because honestly, I would have worm it more. It gave me more confidence, and the option of not looking like a cancer patient, except for the lack of eyebrows and lashes. Which I talk about later.

Prairie Dawgs
At a friends wedding on the prairie, I think we all look bad ass here, and the wig helped! But I was hot and wanted to rip it off every minute that it was on.

Head Coverings

It actually felt really, really nice to feel the breeze on my skin, where I’d never felt it before. I enjoyed being at home with a bald head. I couldn’t ever quite get the courage to go bald in public though, so I acquired a set of head scarves. I still looked like a chemo patient, but had some fun scarves to wear that looked less dramatic, and became accessories to what I wore. I still worked outside a lot, so I had my gardening/work head scarves that could get dirty and be part of my work attire, and then some nicer ones.

The trick is getting soft, cotton ones, in the slightly bigger than normal bandana size. The nice silky ones just slip off constantly and actually feel more sweaty, at least in the climate I live in. There are zillions of head scarf websites, and it can be fun to shop around. Buy a bunch, give yourself options, have fun with it. You might as well. Lots of other things suck now. I ended up having a couple that got a lot of use.

This one became a favorite for some reason and had to be washed a lot.
One for outside, farming, puppy time!
This one from Etsy, hand made by a Turkish woman. It was beautifully embellished and embroidered.
A favorite for simplicity, size and color.
Yep here it is again. This one I like a lot.
Looking chic in Montreal.

 

Body Hair You Take for Granted!

One thing I was not warned about, nor ever thought about till I was without….was body hair besides my head! Body hair is so under appreciated, and women are constantly removing it, spending a lot of time and money to do so. It turns out those little hairs we take for granted every day: nose, eyebrow, eyelash, and pubic hair are functional, and when you don’t have them, it’s noticeable!

As an outdoors person, the very first thing I noticed was sweat going straight into my eyes! No brows or lashes to keep it out. It stung sometimes, especially with sunscreen on my face. I felt more junk getting into my lungs, due to lack of nose hair filters. I also seemed to have a runny nose more often, nothing to hold it back. And while I know that many women do a lot of maintenance down there to keep things groomed and tidy, let me tell you that having absolutely nothing down there does not feel good, nor right. I’ve actually read that some doctors feel it unhealthy for women to have no pubic hair, that it serves a purpose for hygiene and health. Haven’t done the research, but something to contemplate.

dsc_0295.jpg
ZERO facial hair, y’all! It’s noticeable when it’s missing. Your face doesn’t work the way it should!

Body Hair You’re Glad to Be Rid Of!

I am the kind of woman that lets shaving slide frequently. I’m too busy and don’t really care that much when my legs get prickly, or the armpit hairs get long. But eventually I do shave, and if I’m trying to clean up, I definitely shave. So, it was a welcome side effect of all this shit I was going through, to not have to shave at all! Small victories.

When It Grows Back

It’s different for everyone. As is everything that cancer does to an individual. For me….my hair grew back FABULOUS!! At first I couldn’t’ tell what was happening. It was dark, then it started showing a bit of a wave, as I rocked the Sinead O’Connor look for awhile. Then as it got longer, it revealed itself as every possible opposite of what I used to have. My hair was thick, dark and curly now, and it was marvelous! The most expensive make over I’ve ever had. I looooooooved my hair. Loved it. So beautiful and so easy to manage! Curly hair is less maintenance, in my opinion than my previously thin and straight hair.

 

It was interesting to watch it change over time, until eventually it lightened in color and heft, and the curls went slack. Ah well, fun while it lasted!

I now have an interesting perspective on hair. It’s purpose both aesthetically and functionally. Everyone’s experience will be different, but I hope this might be helpful to anyone going through it.

 

soil and seed: the science behind fasting

| lemonbalm79

As a gardener, I’ve learned that if you cultivate healthy soil, then you can grow anything. In Florida this is no easy task and takes constant diligence and care, adding leaf litter, compost and other juicy ingredients. This process encourages mycorrhizae and other soil inhabitants that provide conditions under which plants will thrive. If you don’t tend your soil, the seeds you sow will struggle to survive. They’ll grow to be lanky and weak, unable to find the nutrition and microbial relationships they need to survive. When plants are weak, they become prone  to disease and pests.

This same thing happens in our bodies. We can cultivate our “soil” so that it resists illness, both short and long term. Or, we can tend the soil in such a way that it encourages invasive seeds like cancer, to thrive and dominate the garden.

Just the other day my friend Tom, coming off of two bouts of illness; flu then a cold was frustrated at his lingering cough that he knew was being exacerbated by other things. He said, “I really need to quit eating bread. I felt so great before when I quit eating that stuff“. He had been eating paleo style for sometime, lost weight, and cleared up so much inflammation that he was feeling wonderful. But like we all tend to do, slipped off that lifestyle for one reason or another. After falling victim to this year’s nasty flu virus, his body’s soil wasn’t in any condition to really help him out.  He wasn’t tending his soil how he knew that he needed to.

If you read my page about Food and Fasting, there are some good starting points there to cultivate healthy soil. Getting your diet right to reduce inflammation is critical. This means cutting out sugars, bumping up your microbiota, and eating highly nutritious foods. My friend Julie pointed me to this mini documentary about the Science of Fasting, which helps explain how it works. There are actually fasting clinics, for those undergoing prolonged fasts.  I never went longer than 3 days, but others with serious conditions, can undergo a medically supervised fast.

Fasting is a wonderful tool we can use to clear out any gunk that builds up in our soil. But please, set aside your gut reaction and judgments! I get this a lot from people, who find it crazy that I would consider not eating. Especially because I’m so small. It’s just misguided fear. Only in recent human evolution have we had access to thousands of unlimited and low quality calories a day. We’re more adapted to dealing with hunger than we are with excess. Our bodies know what to do when times get lean, they’ve been doing it for a long time.

Think of fasting like a re-start button! Every time I have a technology issue, the first thing Mike will always say to me is “have you tried re-starting?!” Things just get gummed up and need a fresh start. Wireless networks, computers, printers, phones. First thing to do is cut them off of their food supply (power) and then start up again. Natural systems go through periods of leanness during winter time, then flourish in the spring. Some animals go the extreme like penguins, fasting for months. Things go in cycles, and yet we never seem to do that with food. Three meals a day (if we are so fortunate), no breaks, no chances to re-start. I think my friend Tom should try fasting to clear up his gunk, then start re-building his soil.

Think of fasting like a re-set button for your body. It gives it a rest from having to digest and  metabolize, so that it can clean up a bit, remove wastes, toxins and other things that produce soil fit for cancer and other disease to grow.

I used this technique during my cancer treatments to alleviate symptoms and boost the effects of chemotherapy. I am convinced this was a key element to beating back cancer.

Five years in remission, I still use this regularly with varying degrees of intensity to clear up the gunk. After traveling when my diet and other things may have been off (read: being gluttonous, eating rich foods and imbibing too much), I’ll come home and fast for a day or maybe three. Throughout the week, I’ll even skip breakfast or lunch fairly regularly, getting in some shorter intermittent fasts. These are actually pretty easy for me, and after going through it, I am motivated to keep building my soil.

So consider how you can better cultivate your soil for long term health, so that good seeds may flourish. Use fasting as a tool to occasionally refresh the soil, and help keep invasive seeds from taking hold.

healing hues

| lemonbalm79

When you have a quiet moment to yourself, close your eyes and visualize colors that resonate with you. Find one that really feels right, like it could heal, comfort, bathe, and support you.

While visiting my friend and healer Tia (mentioned in a previous post about metamorphosis), at the beginning of my cancer ordeal, I was open to trying and discovering new things. One of them she offered was this question: “What color?”

I closed my eyes, settled in, and rotated through several options. Being an ecologist, the colors were very specific, and existing in nature.

Freshly unfurled spring leaves, practically a neon green in their youth and vigor. Stunning, but that wasn’t it.

Bright, blue, and clear Florida summer skies, with a few puffy white clouds. Cheerful, but that wasn’t it either.

Oooh….the aquamarine, crystal clear blue of a healthy Florida spring run. Dappled with green eelgrass and traces of algae. Refreshing, but not the one.

Fall foliage in a beautiful mountain setting. A mix of yellows, oranges and reds in all possible shades cascading among valleys and river edges. Magnificent, but not it. Feeling warmer though…

Then I saw it, and felt it. Golden winter light filtered, then expanded, through the trees. Winter time in North Florida, produces a very specific color that I’d come to love over the years, but was only now truly connecting with. Winter light is different, than all other times of the year. The sun is lower in the sky, and the light seems more akin to the warm glow of a fire place. Winter light is golden and soft.

At this time of year, a walk through the woods is more well-lit too. The sun can peek through the canopy, finding the forest floor in more places. The deciduous trees are in various stages of having dropped their leaves for the season. Some are entirely nude, while others still hold on to a few. Pine trees still have their needles.

What’s most stunning about this particular wavelength of light is how it’s filtered through branches, leaves and needles, but then at certain view points, radiates and magnifies in all directions outward. Sometimes it looks sparkly, you can see the light wavering and pulsating. It dapples golden hues onto seed heads, foliage, and Spanish moss, illuminating them. Grey and brown fall plants transform from drab to fab!

This is the hue that felt most healing and comforting to me.

sun through trees
Winter light finds an opening, filters through the trees, then radiates out, sparkling and enhancing everything it lands upon.

Once I connected to this color, I started seeking it out more. I wandered a lot through the woods between Forage Farm and the Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery, usually with my dog. We’d wander the cemetery trails, where I was secretly looking for desirable final resting places. You know, just in case.

In the woods, that light was always found, and eagerly greeted by me. I’d get just the right angle and position for the light to filter through and then pour down over me. I’d close my eyes, stand strong yet soft, with palms turned up and out to receive the light. Then the psychedelic stuff would start.

With light bathing on closed lids, the images my brain continued to produce became an important part of this light-seeking experience. I would “see” radiating light waves, moving towards the sunlight. After a few moments, that directional movement continued, but changed to very tiny particles still flowing with determination towards the source. Millions of tiny dust-like sparkly particles were moving quickly and surrounding me.

I felt a release from my physical body, and experienced a feeling of oneness with everything. My cells felt a part of the greater expanse of the universe around me, the trees, damp soil, and everything beyond. In equal exchange, the massive expansiveness of the universe felt very much apart of all of my cells.

In this state of consciousness, feeling absolutely free and untethered, I asked. It didn’t seem like too much to ask, given the connectedness and oneness I felt. I asked the great Mother Earth with all her beauty, and the universe beyond in all its vastness and wisdom, to absorb some of my illness and pain. I could feel that light absorbing it, and the sparkly light behind my eyelids, still pulling me up and out.

It’s hard to describe this experience, but it was profound, to say the least.

I felt softened of heart, mind and body. And expanded, far beyond my physical self and this physical world. Softened, and expanded. Receiving.

What a tremendous gift to receive. Beauty, connection, and healing.

I continue to seek this light out, and connect even if only for a few moments in a busy day, to it’s power and life giving force.

So, what’s your healing hue?

metamorphosis

| lemonbalm79

I’ve long been fascinated by the process of metamorphosis. It happens a lot in the insect world, most beautifully and visibly for us humans as the transformation of a caterpillar into a stunning butterfly.

Imagine! You fall asleep one day, forming a protective sheath around your body. Your own cells start to liquefy, digesting themselves. But then they start re-organizing, creating entirely new structures, until eventually you re-emerge. You’re an entirely new being. Something with scales instead of skin; wings instead of legs to move around the world. Everything about you is different, even though you’re still the same. That’s pretty mind blowing.

If you’ve got an extra 2 minutes and 42 seconds, watch this time lapse video of the process.

“The caterpillar is a necessary stage but becomes unsustainable once its job is done. There is no point in being angry at it, and there is no need to worry about defeating it. The task is to focus on building the butterfly…” ~Elizabet Sahtouris

I liken the transformative process of metamorphosis, to that of my cancer experience. I felt a major shift in the way I viewed and lived my life.

Our society always talks about the FIGHT against cancer. Everyone reassured me of how strong I was, that I would surely fight this and win. We had to be aggressive to beat this thing. There’s an all out WAR on cancer.

I was frustrated with the assurance of my strength and bad-assery, and the assumption of the great fight that lay ahead. It just didn’t sit right with me.

I was with my friend and healer Tia, receiving some counsel and much needed massage and other healing treatments. I mentioned this concept of a fight to her. She looked at me deeply like she does, really connecting. While I can’t remember her exact words, it was something like this:

“Well, you’re not a fighter. It’s not your nature. You are gentle, and you nurture. Perhaps you don’t fight this thing, but you work with it in your own way.” 

I was reminded of a quote from a card a friend gave me long ago when I was a teenage animal activist that said, “The greatest strength is gentleness.”

That was it! I wasn’t going to fight the cancer. The cancer was after all, me. My own cells inside my own body had gone haywire. Was I going to fight myself?

When the caterpillar starts the process of becoming a butterfly, the Imaginal cells that lay dormant in the active caterpillar start to become active. Initially, the caterpillar enzymes attack the Imgainal cells. But eventually these cells organize and mobilize, creating the necessary bits and pieces for a butterfly.

“There is no point in being angry at it, and there is no need to worry about defeating it. The task is to focus on building the butterfly…”

And so it was with my cancer. I couldn’t be angry at it, or the unknown conditions that caused it. I couldn’t be angry at myself (even though I blamed myself in many ways for the diagnosis).

So I went within, and really had a conversation with myself. Not how I normally do, chatting away out loud as I fumble through my day. No, I went really inward, visualizing those growing cells, that were my own. They were a part of me, so I could connect with them. I talked to them, or myself, or whatever and said….

“Hey. Thanks for the visit. No really! You’ve woken me up and I’m definitely paying attention. I’ve made some changes and I’ve been thinking a lot. I’m really not in any position to leave this world right now. Maybe in 20, 30 or 40 years you can re-visit and take me then if you must, but certainly not now. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, and lot of people that need me. So I’d ask that you kindly dissolve and leave. Thank you for showing me what’s on the other side. So long and farewell…please.”

Furthermore, I envisioned all kinds of things that gently asked cancer to leave. Chemo silently dissolved the cells when infused. Healing warm rays of light dappled through trees, gently melted the cells. I asked Mother Earth and the endless universe, to absorb into her vastness some of my pain and illness. Water washed them away. I saw my mother (passed away 3 years prior) at a totally fabricated and perfect place in my mind, sitting with me and helping me heal, like she always did.

And so, all the myriad things I allowed to happen to me, and those that I chose, showed my cancer the door. Through a massive metamorphosis of my own, eyes and heart wide open, I transitioned into a different person. Perhaps not as dramatically as a caterpillar accomplishes, but damn near felt like I had wings and a new lease on life.

(Pro- tip: these tools of visualization were cultivated by reading the book, Creative Visualization by Shakti Gawain. I would recommend this for anyone, not just those experiencing a difficult time.)

Mom n Me
My sweet mother and I at Devils’ Millhopper. I longed for her through my cancer ordeal, but also was glad she didn’t have to bear the weight of the situation.