Volume 6 Issue 1

January-February 2005

Slowly I Turn . . .

"What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and our present thoughts build our life of tomorrow: Our life is the creation of our mind."

- Buddha

It snowed today.  Finally.  I have been aching for snow.  Before Christmas an Exercise Center  member brought in an artificial bonsai-size Christmas tree which was displayed in a little plexiglas box.  Turning a switch caused tiny white styrofoam pellets to shoot out of the top of the tree and snow down over it.  The “snow” would pile on the branches and at the base of the tree.  At first I thought that it was truly cheesy and couldn’t understand why so many members “just loved it.”  But, one afternoon, watching the blizzard in that little box, the most aching nostalgia for snow washed through me.  I began longing for just one pretty snowfall.  It wouldn’t have to be long or a lot, just snow falling through the sky and piling on the branches of real trees and on the ground around them.  When I talked with some of my family about this desire, they (who live in the midwest and northeast) said, “So, come visit us, we have more than enough.”  But, that wasn’t what I was wanting.  I wanted to watch it fall and collect, looking really pretty.  I wanted kids to be out in it as they are for the first snowfall.  Each year, the first snowfall feels almost like the very first of your entire life.  It has a freshness that the fifth and sixth snowstorm could never aspire to.  We quickly tire of the difficulties involved with  moving about in snow and ice.  We get cold to our bones and want to be warm.  The snow becomes street grubby and no longer the vision of purity of that first time.

That is the wisdom of these past two years:  a peace that is just like this first snowfall—quiet, white, pure, exhilarating.  This month I woke up from the chemo-radiation-tired dream I had been living.  My energy level blossomed, practically overnight.  The pain in my legs and feet nearly disappeared.  My enthusiasm for life returned.  My oncologist told me that after one year I would be back to 100%.  It has been just over a year since my last treatment.  Most doctors who advise me are reluctant to give time frames, but my oncologist has proven to be on the money each time he has thrown out something like, “You will lose your hair two days after your next chemo treatment.”  I hope I never ask, and be tempted to believe, him about my life expectancy.  For two years I have literally had to force myself in everything I do.  With reclaimed energy, I now look forward to each day.  I work on projects (like this one) because of desire and joy, not because it is something I remember as once rewarding.  The gifts to my psyche these past two years have not been  ah-ha moments, just quietly growing insight:

I thought I had resigned as Leader of the Universe years ago, I now realize I had not, I had only succeeded in delegating.

My perfectionism has fairly well dissipated.

I don’t demand more—that I (or others) always be more, do more, be more worthy.   

I am less concerned about personal humiliation.

I realize that I am not wise, intelligent or attractive enough to be special. 

I realize that I am unique and very special.

I feel my husband is more genuine towards me.

My husband displays love, affection, and caring more than in the past.

My husband loses his temper and shows his frustrations more than in the past.

I miss my parents as much as I ever have.

I miss my son more than ever and want his family near me.

I want to spend more time with my sisters.

I want to know my nieces and nephews better.

I want to go out for coffee with friends more than before.

My heart has greater capacity for compassion.  In the past, though I knew we all suffer, I thought some suffered more than others or in more commendable ways, therefore deserved more compassion. 

I have resigned as judge.  I see us all, each and every person, as a member of the walking wounded.  I no longer limit my compassion and empathy to the “deserving”. 

I have less fear.

I like people more, genuinely.

I’m less afraid of people.

In some ways, I’m more patient.

I believe I have lived a beautiful, successful, fulfilling life.

I am less selfish.

I feel less entitled.

I experience more joy and refuse to have anything to do with people who do not (experience great joy).

I am not waiting for, anticipating, or living in the future.  I have plans, but my life and its rewards are today.

I take credit less often.

I remain bitchy.  (Elaine says, “You say bitch like it’s a bad thing.”)

I have an aversion to drama – those personal stories we create and use to impact our selves and others.  I no longer desire those medals of valor.

I don’t like to talk.

I am not in a hurry.

I have further learned:

To let go of pursuits that take me away from those who love me.

It is good to selfishly soak my body and mind with life and its experience—then squeeze it from me as refreshment for all those around me.  However, selfishness that cannot be shared dooms me to never be fulfilled as a person.

I have many faults.

If I live…

...too much for my principles, compassion drains from my heart.

...too much for career, love  becomes a bonus rather than a requirement.

...with an addiction and my soul is released to the universe, destined to travel as a hungry ghost, never fulfilled.

...too much for outcome, I lose joy.

There is nothing to be gained by actions that require deceit.

And now:

Dying has a certain peace associated with it.  It’s difficult to imagine life as I know it continuing without me.  But, I don’t mind.

I don’t worry that things will not turn out all right.

 \Om, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti\

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Preparing for Drop-Backs

When in India I watch CNN Europe.  There is such a difference between the American and European CNN stations.  The first time I was in India was soon after 9-11.  The coverage of the invasion of Iran was so much less dramatic than what I would have seen had I been in the States.  In the United States we like drama.  We like to be threatened so we can have adrenaline driven lives.  We thrive on deadlines.  We love our stressors. 

Though I was closer to the action there in India, I felt safer because I didn’t have the news telling me how at-risk I was for everything from toothpaste I use to the crime in my neighborhood.  Security and peace is a state of mind.  There are a magnificent few who are able to maintain peace in the midst of the most heinous of circumstance.  How do they do it?  God touches them.  They listen, open their hearts, and release their fears. 

Stand by a wall in Tadasana, arms at your side.  Place your hands on the back thighs and roll the skin from inner to outer thigh.  Lift the sternum and lengthen the spine.  Continue this lengthening while looking up and back.  Keep well grounded from sit bones through the backs of knees, through  the heels.  Swing the arms overhead and touch the wall.  Lift the sternum even higher.  To come back to Tadasana lift the sternum even higher.  Repeat 5-10 times.

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