History isn’t Destiny
Time to give a heave-ho to our old habits.
The old and the familiar stops us from meeting the new and transforming.
The history we have does not determine the destiny we will enjoy.
Maybe it is time to resign from the debate committee in our mind.
I think it is time we finally give a shift!
When we leave behind our history in favor of our destiny we shift our default mental programing to the side.
What does that look like?
For me it is about letting go of the reins of fear that keep galloping me towards the land of discomfort, despair, and death.
When I shift my attention to something else, to someone else, I gain the freedom that hope and possibility provides.
Obviously, my focus on resolving and recovering from cancer is about shifting my future destiny away from what doctors and diagnostic data keeps telling me.
Disavowing and not replaying the words of white-coated authority figures requires us to act as if we trust God more than those sitting with us in the consultation rooms.
It means we are turning a hospital back into a place of healing hospitality, this is not easy.
I was placed into the hands of palliative care – the gateway for pain management and hospice – in the first few months after my diagnosis.
Even though today I feel better, stronger, and happier, there is cancer in my sacrum and palliative care meetings keep happening.
Radiation starts next week and my mind is requiring much more attention.
Yes, I am writing about me, for me, however I think all of us have attention grabbing issues that challenge us frequently…and for some daily. And in the shadows fear is lurking about.
Fear is always a disproportional response because fear is based on lies.
False Evidence Appearing Real (FEAR) is so believable and so inaccurate.
Whether it is the evidence our mind manufactures about our children, our fate or our vitality,
It is still a lie churning up waves of restlessness in our mind and body that can shake us to our core.
Truth is always comforting and connecting.
It fills in the missing parts that without them life is senseless and scary.
What does truth look like?
The ‘felt-sense’ starts with a single breath. A breath that unites the mind and body with the gentle flow of our abdomen rising and falling.
This union is the gateway to inner quietude. Insights softly arise as the fear disappears.
Slowly the muscle tension and sweaty palms give way to comfort and connection to safety.
Peace deepens into tranquility and soon all is possible; all is good.
Cuddling with Cancer — Befriending Cancer — Chatting with Cancer
Today Terri invited me to a new vista where I could view cancer as a lifelong companion.
Her insight is full of truth. The white coats and the black inked pages all talk about how stage 4 cancer will constantly be popping up in my body.
Cancer cells are my cells. My body made them.
We are on the same side. If I die, the cancer cells die.
So we have to co-exist or else we both die.
We become house mates.
No longer misconstruing cancer as a threat to my survival shifts my thinking about how we must learn to live with those who at first glance seem threatening.
No matter what our “cancer in the room” looks like, we can co-exist in a life-long healthy way.
Neither one of us dominates nor desecrates each moment, instead we peacefully reside at the same address.
The Stand-in Whipping Boy
In the old days, we had an agreement. The first few times it was obvious but unspoken. I had to figure it out on my own. I finally realized what was the ‘kick’ in being a ‘sidekick.’
From ouch to awe!
Many times, I was singled out as the offender to absorb the cutting criticism of my teachers and coaches.
Occasionally forewarned by glances or verbal cues that the actual mistake maker could not endure the critique but would be present to witness my surrogate role of receiving their punishment and humiliation.
Usually, it was a small crowd with the targeted student fully present to learn vicariously the lesson they need at my ego’s expense.
Sometimes the venue was large, filled lecture halls in lands foreign and domestic where I would be singled out and told to stand up for all to see and hear the banter between a student and teacher.
It became a sport for us. One that we both enjoyed playing. A drama with morals of great portent.
Learning not to care about audience opinions and confusions about our behaviors was a huge lesson for me.
Being the sample ‘mistake maker’ allowed many lessons to be taught to the attendees and to those that would hear the tales later that day at the office or dinner table.
Societal norms no longer allow us to play such lesson-filled dramas.
Egos are too tender and dear for truth to be so blatantly spoken today.
I am no longer the side-kick, the surrogate, the stand-in.
And I, myself, no longer have a companion to hurl pointed insights as the real target safely hides in the masses.
The fragility of our self-image makes it harder for truths to be taught.
A real teacher is considered the world’s greatest surgeon but never uses anesthesia.
Greasing their words with love and kindness, they forewarn us saying, “that which is pleasant is not necessarily good for you, and that which is good for you is not necessarily pleasant.”
And my favorite line:
“I am not telling you everything.”
Gone are the ‘Rama Dramas’ of decades ago.
The ‘awe’ continues without much ‘ouch.’