TAMOXIFEN--A Prayer for My New Fabulous Friend

So.  Last night marked the first date with Tamoxifen. After this lates recoccurence, I did some souls searching. It looked like this:: Maybe the doctor's aren't so evil and all the success they have had with this disease was not made up and I would be wise to listen to them, because there is a lump sitting in my breast and I tried the other way and it seems like nothing really happened. Well, I shouldn't say nothing, because my bloodwork is fantastico. And THAT is not nothing.

So I got the prescription and now have an orange and white bottle sitting in with all my other supplements. Last night I took one little white pill out and cradled it in my palm. Its so small and looks so harmless. In my imagination's eye I looked down into that pill and imagined all the molecules and chemistry and atoms and whatever it is that's in there all configured in just the right way to help me. I then took my breath and blew ever so gentley into the pill with my VERY BEST intentions and said thank you to the scientists who made it. Who cares how much money this drug is making, and all the politics around it, maybe this little pill deep in its heart wanted to help me. It was going in to do the job right. Prevent those cells from growing! Or give me ridiculous side effects which I regret for the rest of my life, never find a man or settle down, have zero retirement plan, and have such deep crow's feet in my 50's that I look like a witch and my only friends will be cats. Stray cats who meow alot. Named Raven. 

So Miss Tamoxifen, and this pill is definitely a She with a name like Tamox--which rhymes with Mox as in Moxie, you are my hope for a successful and wonderful life. Show my your Moxie, do your thing to bind to the cells before the estrogen can and stop these silly Cancer cells from growing.  Send them to Cancer heaven where they will have a better time anyway. Shrink my little 1.7cm tumor down to nothing so that when they do go in there to clean it out, there will be NOTHING there.

Thanks Tamoxifen.
Oh yeah and don't give me hot flashes or any of that big ugly list they handed to me....

What Breast Cancer IS and What It IS NOT

I wrote this little diddy while I sat waiting for the doctor....A mammogram and one doctor's appointment took 4.5 hours. Yes, thats right.....4.5 hours.....

Lets talk about what Breast Cancer is NOT. Its not a fucking pink ribbon. Sorry Susan Komen, you might like it like that and also like other things like pulling your funds from Planned Parenthood for Breast Screenings in support of Pro-Life pressure, but Pink Ribbons are not what I am experiencing as things push forward. Its  nice tho, to see them on doctors lapels, I appreciate the gesture. Maybe one day I will tie a bunch thru my hair, long pink silk things with little breasts on them, and run screaming thru the Breast Center's hallways, saying "Yay! I have Breast Cancer! Whoopeeeeeee!" And high five all the doctors in support.

But for now, I am just going to throw up when I see that pink ribbon on all these fucking advertisements when I know how much money people are making off of pitying women and their sad little breasts. OUch. I  know, its a bit harsh, but I have Breast Cancer, I can say what I want, because you have to be nice to me and think "she is probably going thru alot". Anyway, you know you see those pink ribbons on things like yogurt and crackers and granola bars, soon we are going to see it on a bottles of Gin and cigarettes. 

Breast Cancer is NOT a smiley bald woman sitting with her hand on the shoulder of another smiley bald woman who has a very pretty scarf on her head.  You know the ones I am talking about, where they are turned towards each other, but also out to face us, smiling together as if they triumphed or just recieved a plaque or were about to give an inspirational talk. Lets just get that one straight.  I don't see those women much except for in magazines and advertisements. In fact, when I walk into the waiting room for doctor's appointments, I have to say, most women are not smiling very much. They look worried and scared and nervous. When they are bald, its SHOCKING and stunning and Bold, but you dont get a warm feeling in your tummy, like everything is going to be okay and isn't that woman beautiful? You get scared and self absorbed and wonder if that could be you. Sorry, most women are not that excited about going out to buy some scarves for their head, we like our hair and we like it on our heads. There are exceptions. And yes, I DO think many women look HOT as bald ladies, but I personally do NOT want to be one.  I  know, I know, it grows back--Don't tell me things to make me feel better!

What it is, in reality, or at least so far in "my" reality or at least in the reality that I am currently experiencing, what little I can see, and don't you dare think I KNOW what this whole breast cancer thing is about, but one thing I can say it is about is an extreme disconnect from the truest source of life, a dire confusion about the Mother and how she wants to nourish and protect us and a deep isolation from letting her in. This is another topic all together about the entire state of the world, not just women and why we are in the situation that we are currently in. For now I just want to rant a bit about my experience and not have any answers.

What Breast Cancer IS...is:;

Monochrome waiting rooms, fake plants, glossy brochures written in fake soothing copy, and aggravated overworked secretaries who are doing the best they can. Its pictures of flowers framed on walls of oil painted beaches and long sweeping rivers and magazines with thinks like Housekeeping tips and perky ways to tone your butt with recipes for chicken cattiatore and interviews of air brushed celebrities, their lush bosoms falling out of expensive clothing while you sit in a wrinkley pink hospital gown burrowing your mind into something that looks pretty and is trivial.  Yes, I do want to think of 5 ways to please a man in bed so that he stays with me FOREVER before I walk into an office to talk with a married man about how he wants to cut my boob off and therefore safe my life and save the day.

Its taking an out-patient satisfaction survey that the nurse hands to you while you wait, asking you to rate your experience. Its writing " I don't know how to rate this. ( Options are 1-2 Very Poor 3-4 Poor 5-6 Satisfactory 7-8 Very Satisfied 9-10 Excellent. ) Who wants a mammogram where your boobs are smashed between two plates while you grip on to the holding bars for your life and hold your breath waiting for that click of the picture, while you close your eyes and try and beam away the radioactive stuff that may or may not be penetrating that metal sheild you wear across your woman parts below that may or may not be getting blasted by radioactive STUFF,  all of this for pictures that still don't show you everything and that look like a snow storm in the middle of the night, while the woman taking the pictures does her best to be cheerful and not freak you out but you both know none of this is very polite, you topless standing in a room with a stranger while she operates a machine to inform you there is a nasty disease in your soft feminine spot. But if I take that part out and enjoy the pictures in black and white of my boob and the picture of the woman on the wall in charcoal by Picasso who keeps staring at me with her simple eyes both sad and true, ( whoever does the art selection in this place deserves a metal-seriously) I would say 7-8 Very Satisfied. Definitely would come back and again and invite friends and family.  A first rate hospital experience, maybe change up the lighting and add some Muzak to complete the experience. Good Job."  It's write so much you have to turn the page over. You giggle at the thought of the person reading this in Hospital Personel who probably has never recieved a response like this. She will probably call you a cuck-coo and call her co-worker over to be confused and amused by you. But at least you didn't play their games of acting like this is all normal and cheerful and can be rated by some fucking number as if you paid for this experience and those you paid are wanting to "serve you better". Are we at Home Depot?

Breast Cancer is sitting up at night pouring thru google looking for information that doesn't come from cancer.gov or breastcancer.org or healthfacts.info or any other major website that is riddled with consumer ads for drugs and doctors and macaroni and cheese.  Its reading one thing, only to read its opposite only to read nothing only to read horror only to read that if I just eat a bunch of grapes for 40 days and begin to love myself I won't sit in these rooms anymore. Its trying to make up for all the biology and science classes that you passed notes in or skipped, because the words they use in explaining things are some fucking martian language of a tribe called Doctors. Its reading the results of studies that you have no idea how a study is stuctured or anything about research and nobody seems to want to explain it to you and there are no online classes or nite sessions at the Y. Its realizing your doctors do not have time to share with you the inside of their 10 years of study brains to get you to wrap your head around the fact that cells do exist even if you cant see them and that the activity of these cells can put a damper on your plans for the white picket fence and  you should just do the Chemo and shut up and trust them so they can continue their rounds.  Its noticing how polished and clean smelling these doctor's are, with their gold cuff links and italian framed glasses, and silk ties.

So far, thats all I got in this little diddy......a post in progress.....a lead into a realm.....a start of something new.

A Qoute From the Red Book

This is an excerpt from a great little book I am reading called The Red Book...

"Countless are the wise masters who've said that our entire existence, as meaningful and profound as it is, is also probably one big cosmic joke. On us. Legendary comic Charlie Chaplin once said "In the end, everything is a gag." Take a look around your life sometime; it can certainly feel like life is one giant prank. We've all had those surreal moments, like when you're staring down some seriously lofty truths or reeling from some profound personal realizations or listening, reading, or speaking about something so incredibley deep and heavy it would make flowers cry, and then you get this sort of weird existential hiccup. Your lens shifts, your spiritual underpants are pulled down, and some raw part of you is suddenly exposed. The world, you, all of us wrapped up in our super-serious "spirituality" all suddenly appear to be like cute, tiny frozen peas, packed away in the back freezer aisle of the universe's supermarket of possibilities. It hits you like a rubber chicken smacked across your skull; We've only just begun to realize who we are and what this place is made of, and even when we do, we still could be, well, totally wrong.

The author of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, the late,great Douglas Adams, wrote, "There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened" It can get extremely complicated when you try to make  logical sense of why things are the way they are. Why are you here?  What is the meaning of all of this? Why is there so much love and dazzling beauty in one moment and pain and violence in another? Why do you feel the divine's hot breath one night and a cold vacancy the next? Why are there so many wildly different belief systems to choose from? Why did that particular love end or that tragedy occur? Why do families dysfunction or friendships dissolve or personal beliefs get thrown or cute little puppies die or birds get crushed by cars or cute littel fishies get all eaten up bye-bye, yum-yum fish sticks? I mean what, really, is the point?

Approach spritiuality from a purely analytical standpoint, and I can guarantee that you'll come away with a massive migraine with a spicy side of existential angst. It's your choice. Try and tackle these classic, metaphysical brain twisters that philosophers and theologians have been struggling with for centuries and spend your whole life tying yourself up in infinite knots, or accept the mystery, the divine paradox, let go of trying to figure it all out, and enjoy the endless crazy ride."--Sera Beak

I think this is some wise counsel that made its way all the way from the great book sellers at Amazon today....:) I will take it.

Let it Be.

After so long thinking it was under control....all the supplements.....the Vit C IV's, the Mistletoe Injections, the herbs, the diet, the thousands of dollars....all of it.....its back.....

Another lump.

If it hadn't been for my doctor finding me on linked in (yup that site creates miracles) and convincing me to come in and see him for a follow up check, I might not have found it. I was so convinced I would be fine, as I was saying the words, "I will be fine", he said "I feel something".

Boom. A small needle biopsy moving on to the big needle biopsy and on into a pathology that said CANCER.

Sigh. Shake angry fist at God. Collapse into tears. Meditate all morning, praying for guidance. 

And just a week before I was going to Costa Rica.....planning my life and workshops and classes and....

Life made other plans, again.

Okay, the pity party is over. I cancelled that act this morning. Now its action time and being logical. So much foot work to this journey, emails, phone calls, care taking, eating, ordering, researching, its just a full time job. Now I am trying to set up my room to be a sanctuary because it seems I will be spending more time here in these tiny walls. Light the candles paint the walls hang up the sacred stuff, make it pretty. I never fully moved in because I honestly didnt think I would be staying here that long, thank god for girlfriends and homes.

Now, to focus on this little lump in my upper left boob, looking so dark on the sonnegram, being fed by god knows what, being heard by who knows how....what a mess. Or is it?

I vascillate between the pity party and this strange sense of wanting to tackle a healing project. I am made for this stuff.....I have passed thru worse than this in life upon life, famine, torture, death, disease, abortion, this cancer stuff is really just grist for the mill. Except when the demons come out....like masectomy, hair loss, infertility....why does God want to threaten me with my female parts? Who does he think he is to play these games with me?  It is not FAIR nor RIGHT nor what is SUPPOSED To happen....didnt he read the script? He is directing the WRONG movie...somebody please tell him so he can pencil back in boobs and long flowing hair and lovely children suckling from my very real and unsagging boobs. (I threw the unsagging in there as a payback)

Of course now, when I am upset with life, God becomes a Man and not the Goddess.....Goddess wouldn't do this, only a strict Man who thinks I have done wrong and I still need to be punished. And not punished in that titillating playful way, like really punished. Like hack of your boobs and steal your ovaries and make you damaged goods that will never find a nice man and settle down...although I never wanted to settle down but  now suddenly it seems very nice, especially with that white picket fence....No you WONT!! I want to scream.......No you wont take my fairy tale away from me.

And who knows...really. Where is this leading? Who knows. Maybe God doesn't even know, maybe he is as suprised as I am. Maybe.  Maybe God doesn't care how I feel about it, maybe its just supposed to happen for reasons I may never know. Its just how the atoms and molecules were split at my conception and maybe I give God too much credit. Maybe he is just bumbling along just like me, forgetting to put on deodorant and call the Tax Lady back. Maybe.

I am so sick of this God business and this Karma business and anything that has to do with me finding ways that I fucked up in my life and therefore created this cancer and am supposed to not get mad at anyone or anything because somewhere I called it to me so how can I blame anyone. Really? Fuck you. Really. I think this "reasoning" was made up by people who are afraid to face that fact that is could happen to them and there is no "reason" that can somehow be controlled so that you can feel better about not having it or ever getting it because you are doing all the "right" things that will make it so you don't get it. I am throwing that guilt trip out the window of the 85th floor of the high rise called "Let it Be". The Beatles can now be God, they make more sense anyway. Was John Lennon a bad guy because somebody shot him? Or Martin Luther King? Yeah those theories don't really hold when you look at the bad shit that happens to good people that also seem somehow touched by the hand of God.


For now, I have cancer because in some strange reality seemingly far from this one, but actually right along side it, it makes sense. Because, whatever fortitude that made me write this post had to come up and thru and out and Life (fuck God) wanted it to be that way because it is more interesting than sitting in a suburban house peeling apples. Because, some screwey people decided it would be great to fuck with the environment and put weird things in food, and poison the waters, and pollute the air because well, in a strange twisted way it made them money that they then thought they would do good things with but never got around too, because they were out making more money. Because I am not so important as I think I am and because life just happens while you are busy making other plans.

To be continued.

Revisit

I wake up one morning from a dream, that I am loosing my hair. That there are bald spots on my head, big gaping holes all over my head where there is no hair. Absolutely no hair. I am wondering in the dream how they got there. It is not a terrifying dream. In it, it feels like I am more wondering how they got there, knowing they will most likely grow back, but nonetheless, there are bald spots on my head....so it isnt the best either.

The next day after this dream, I speak with my father, as I walk on the very cold afternoon sidewalk in chelsea.  He starts to tell me of yet another friend that did the chemo and "she's fine now". I launch into my speech that I must have said a zillion times, about the cancer industry and all the ways I am not going to be a part of it. I feel like I am explaining this to myself because I have to convince myself I am not afraid. Or that I am not secretly wondering if I made the right choice. Or in the back of mind, thinking, well maybe I should just try it.  My father concludes my speech with a simple "well I would just have to disagree with you". And then "Good luck". Ugh. That feels like a sharp nail in my side....good luck? What about "we support you honey" or "I know you can do this". Good Luck?

My next book will be "A Parent's Guide to Parenting Children That Are Now Adults who Make Cancer Choices."  Chapter 1:: Good luck should never be said with finality. Ever.

The thing is there is always that little bit of doubt always lurking in the back of my mind. I mean isn't that normal? The point is not to play into it, right? I don't know. Its all  a big mystery, truly, but I certainly know, telling your kid Good Luck, must be chosen in the right context, tone and situation.

The Scan

So, now that I have gone alternative. Am I alternative? I guess that's what I am. Now that I have gone that way, I am forced to ask the question, yes, but how am I "checking" to see if it's "working"?  Well. Good question. Awhile back at the start of this whole journey my lovely little arrogant and brilliant blonde surgeon had ordered me a full Pet Scan. You know the kind where they zoom over your body and check for any "hot spots", if anything lights up, well that could be where more cancer "may" have spread. It's a $5,000 test that insurance somehow managed to get out of paying. Yup folks, even though I had a lump of cancer sitting in my breast, they didn't think that checking the rest of my body was really a priority. And according to some silly cancer criteria made by the national institute of cancer people who wear stiff neck ties, the scan was not considered necessary.

So let me get this correct Stiff Cancer People of my Imagination, you are freaking me out or rather into doing chemotherapy because "God forbid it spreads"(they all say this expression, it must be in the handbook) but you don't want to check to see if it really has?  The logic on this one is beyond my meager mind, forgive me. I don't wear neck ties. Even though my doctor ordered it. Hmmm.

Finally after a few months, I thought, damn, you know I would just like to sleep better at night, knowing I did everything I could to make sure that I checked all the possibilities. So I called up my trusty Nurse Denise, who works along side the arrogant and brilliant english surgeon, born and raised in Brooklyn, sweet as pie lady, who I have chatted with very honestly on many occasions. Denise cares. You can feel it. And the brooklyn accent just makes the whole experience even better. Denise, got back to me right away, only to tell me the doctor was on vacation and she had to wait till he got back. Doctors take vacations?

When she did get back to me, she had this to say:: "Would it change your treatment choices? (i.e would you finally just DO the chemotherapy) Because it doesn't make any sense to do the scan dear, because even if you find something, it will be a stage 4 and there would be nothing we could do for you. At that point it would be too far gone. The doctor just wants you to be aware that just because you do the scan it doesn't necessarily give you a clean bill of health. You could do another one in a month and find something, there is just no way of knowing.

So what you are telling me is that I shouldn't do the scan??? I should just sit around and HOPE that it hasn't spread and save my money? Because even if you find something there is nothing you can do so ignorance is rather a nice way out of this mess?  "Isn't it better to know" I ask Denise, "I mean if something is there, isn't it advisable that I would know about it at the very least??  Is this new logic in the medical world, or has sticking your head in the sand become the preferred way to treat people....."Dont worry about it, get back to your job and life, best we just let nature run its course. As if a stage 4 is incurable, even if it was what I had, do you not read the countless cases of spontaneous healings, alternative healings with stage 4 and worse? No, I know you don't but I do. So fuck, do I spend $5,000 on a scan that is only going to tell me that I have such an advanced case of cancer the medical world just gives up on you, and which may tell me things are great today but in a month it all could change and I will have to be doing $5,000 scans the rest of my life, severely preventing that much desired trip to Costa Rica, India and Brazil and that tan that NYC has proved impossible to attain.

"Well maybe you just want to do the chemotherapy so you know you really got everything"....This is what is implied....We are happy to order the scan for you, but we want to further scare you that whatever it finds either won't make a difference to what we can do for you, or won't be the full picture a month from now, so maybe if we tell you this, you will finally aquiesce to the chemo and get this scan thing out of your head and we can feel like we did our jobs. Maybe they are right, maybe I should just stick my arm out for one round of the chemo, just so THEY can sleep better at night.  Save my $$ and go to India and Brazil and stop being so difficult. Well, at least more tan....

Day #1 How the Art and Discipline Actually Played Out

Everything I am  noticing right now is about how we do or don't go against ourselves. I watch how often I am making decisions out of guilt or what other people will think or what I think is expected of me. It is often so subtle, I don't notice it until after I have made the decision and am wondering to myself "how did I get here, in this uncomfortable spot?" Already I am here for a day and things are expected of me, things that I don't particularly want to do, and not even asked if I want to do them. When I ask to please be told if there are things on the agenda that I am expected at because there are things that I need to do to take care of myself, I am told, the agenda is the priority. I will have plenty of time to do the things that I need to do. This boils my blood. Because its a write off. It implies, oh you and all the things you need to do for YOU....I can feel it. And yet, no one seems to take any interest in how I am going about taking care of myself or if I am doing it adequately. Then I wonder why I come home in the first place and why I am breaking my bank to be here. So round and round we go, where we stop, nobody knows. But I do know that the more I sink into the power, wisdom, creativity, juiciness and joy, the more things in this life have a nice way of working out and aligning themselves.  For now, I have let go that this birth family can really offer that or support that, so I am doing what I have to do to make it through this visit.

Yesterday, I managed to get all the supplements in, have a super smoothie and eat pretty raw all day. I definitely need to eat more green things. I really feel in the past month with traveling, the holidays, my birthday, etc, I kind of fell down on the food side of things and on taking care of myself in general. I would like to get back on that horse in a serious way. It does begin to play into my control issues, especially around food, and all the anorexia stuff comes up, yes if I can control the food I can control my life is the subtle belief....If I can control my food, I can control my life.  This needs to be looked at over and over again.  I also have an eating for comfort gene, and when I am stressed I want to eat things that make me feel comforted. Forget about when I am PMS, then I want to eat anything in sight.  I did go to the organic store and buy a bunch of green vegetables to juice, frozen berries for smoothies and various things like coconut water and date rolls and almond butter. Those make for incredible snacks when the PMS is kicking in. But my mother has a nice candy dish on the dining room table of godiva chocolates, does she really have to put them there? I have only eaten one and thats the end of what I will eat. I can feel the discipline warrior in me that wants to lay down the law. And is fucking pissed that it doesn't seem that anyone in this supposed family supports me. In fact I find it incredibly ironic when I go out with friends who know what I am dealing with, that keep offering me sweets and things I obviously don't eat. Hello?

The rest of the day, I had planned to go to the gym, but at the last minute my girlfriend had offered a ticket to the Nutcracker, our towns production with all the kids in various outfits jumping around the stage and saying their lines with gusto. It was cute. I had performed on that stage, in school plays and in the nutcracker myself. There were memories. At the art center where it was I saw the courtyard where I had my first boy/girl dance and felt marijuana for the first time. (Will never forget that first moment of liberation) And then the room where I had taken ballet. But I couldn't help noticing that the kids looked like they were trying to be adults, that it seemed that they were putting on a show to please us. Smiling fakely and prancing around in this adult choreography. I hate to be so dark, but, it was kind of creepy in a way. A good metaphor for what I am going thru here, all the expectations society puts on us to be a certain way, to perform, to reach, everything Tyohar talks about, its like I could see thru the veil of the society for a minute and I couldn't really laugh and cheer about it. I want to see kids natural and pure and true to themselves, not aiming to keep up with everyone else and become some version of a person on TV. Ugh. I decided then and there, that my kids would never go to "regular" school. And I would never ask them to smile and wave or curtsy in any kind of ballerina skirt unless they really wanted to.  I did enjoy however, watching the kids come off the stage, looking for their parents without hiding it and getting so excited from seeing somebody they knew in the audience. Their little faces lighting up so pure and natural at the joy of seeing their families.

Later that night, still unable to fully meet my mother with an open heart, I leave for the grocery and the drug store, only to find I locked my keys in the car at the drugstore. I calmly called her and told her the news. I was suprised she handled it so well and got the neighbor to drive her over with the spare set. It softened things for us somehow, making me realize she can be cool about certain things and not raise a fuss.  Then later she said she was glad it happened because now she knows where the spare set is....I felt her trying to make good of a situation, knowing I probably was beating myself up about it, which I was for a quick minute. "God I am so spaced out, I need to be more in my body". Its funny how those supposed mistakes serve a broader picture...it did soften things, it forced me a bit out of my shell towards her. A bit. Miracles only happen in inches I suppose...And Until tomorrow.....again and again.

Day #1::The Art and Discipline of Self Care Proclomation to the Universe

I must apologize for not writing more, I got into a rut, which is really no excuse, its really, if I will be honest, about laziness. Resistance. Procrastination.  And I feel this blog is about me sharing what is going on within, without and all around. I have also been going back and forth between NYC and California to be with my mother who is ill right  now with Stage 4 Lymphoma. So I return, only to have to leave again, buy another plane ticket and do it all over again. Its kind of exhausting, not to mention, emotionally draining, as my mother and I never really did get along and Cancer doesn't change the things I thought it would.  I also put a pause in my treatments, spend money that could be going to treatment stuff and debt and am surrounded by people who eat things I try not to be tempted by and smoke in the house.  I am quite aware life is testing me once again to stay true to myself, to balance the guilt, and the needs of others with my own and to step outside my own box of however I have constructed it.

And then there is the fact that even before cancer, I wasn't so great at taking care of myself, so now I have to take care of myself even better and now also her, deal with my brother and sister in law who really like to pull the guilt buttons and somehow, pay for it all, have energy for my work and stay positive as the negative emotions really fuck things up. All across the board, this is a test of major power, awareness, centeredness and connection to a higher power.  When I can approach it like that, I find an iron will. To make things work. I am here for 12 days, I will write on every single one at the end of the day or the morning after the day to give myself a focus point, healing and expression so I don't go crazy.  This will be my commitment. Even if it is only two words.....Like help me:) I will write something to surmise the day, reflect upon it, bolster myself back together and keep the creativity going as the best healing.

Now, I have decided that while I am here, I am going to do alot of yoga, eat impeccably and get some accupuncture and massage as well as sit in the sauna alot and read and write and work on my website, work on the women's gathering, exercise and do my taxes. I will stay busy, productive, moving and active. Using action as the medicine to overcome when things might get shakey or blow up in my face or feelings might arise that I have no seemingly power over. I will prevail. I will pull my energy IN, take a breath or two or three and I will think of something I can do that is positive and action oriented. Right now this is the Jedi path, I will not get sucked into my own fear, guilt, drama, negativity or toxicity or that of others. I will say YES and I will say NO. I will remove  myself from any situation that doesn't feel good to me. I will walk my own path without apology. I will help her with what she needs, which right now it feels like she is just fine actually, and I will cook and make healthy food to keep myself moving in a healthy direction and also helping her. I will go outside a lot and be with the elements, I will write alot and be with the creation angels. I will hang out with lovely friends outside this house and I will take deep breaths at every corner....I will make the time to go to a dance class and not feel guilty. Ay ya yai, the guilt demon.

So. This is the proclamation. More to come at the end of the day when I assess how much I stuck to that, just for today. Just for today, its only a day, day by day, moving forward in the best possible way I can. Gracias to all the angels, supporting that all around me, beside me, within me and in front of me. And I will let go of my need for her approval or my families, if I choose to take care of myself in ways they might never. Just for today. Oh dear lord, three things I pray. I cant even think about Xmas and how I am going to get thru that. Never mind that.  In love for now. And peace.

I have fallen down a bit on my regime and I feel horribly guilty so I need this to be a confessional blog.  I have been cheating on the "Cancer Diet", I have not been keeping up with my writing, which is the thing that gives me peace, perspective and discovery....its like a direct line to my soul. AND....I have not been doing yoga and exercising as I feel I "should" be. Nor sitting in the russian bath house as I "should" be because I have 7 passes. Yes 7. It doesn't even cost me.

Now two things are happening in this predicament. Fear. And guilt. Guilt. If there is anything I wish to erase from my life forever and ever it is big fat guilt. I carry so much guilt around with me on a daily basis over the most trivial of things. My room isn't clean. Guilt. I am 34, it should be spotless. I can hear my mother's voice in my head and her disgust at me. This room has been the source of so many arguments growing up, a source of shame, punishment, and my mother not being pleased with me. I am 34 years old and still, I walk into this room with the eyes of my mother. Instead of making me clean it, this perspective makes me miserable and I want to go in the kitchen and eat cookies, none of which are on the Cancer Diet, which gives me further guilt, so instead of writing about it to get it off my chest and into some cleansing artistic experience, I decide to go shopping. Spending money I shouldn't be spending (my father's voice) and further avoiding going to yoga class or working up a sweat. So now I have a messy room, a junk food system, a fat ass, I am broke and my writing career is in the toilet. You see what happens with this guilt cycle? Round and round.

So here it is. I have cheated on the cancer diet but not so much, that it is irreparable. Its not like I ate donuts and ice cream and steak....well I had a small dish of pralines and cream but that was for childhood's sake. And no, I didn't even bless it, I just ate it standing up in my mother's kitchen at midnight for no good reason besides....pleasure. Some would say that is a good reason, quite actually, my mother has said this....pleasure. No, no, pleasure is not a good reason, the guilt is sure of that. I have had a messy room, BUT I have had clean sheets and laundry and I can find things relatively well. And it smells good and the plant is alive. And in 20 minutes it would be clean so who cares. The exercise has been regular every other day or every two days.....it is not going to get me in iron woman shape BUT, I will maintain the flabby ass that I currently have and it shouldn't grow larger. The shopping....well, if you take a look at my new belt, enough is said on this subject because it is quite the piece.......every time I look at it I get pleasure running thru my eyes and down into my heart. It has paid for itself in two weeks. Nuff said. Writing,....well scribbling some thoughts on the subway and currently writing right now, feels like maybe the writing Nazi's will forgive me and the creative angels will take up residency again in my fingers. I sometimes think of all the things I could have written all the juicy fragments of life I could have woven into some sort of story or prose piece or rant or article and I pray pray pray that the gods have lodged those moments somewhere in my brain that they will slip out poetically in some writing session and make them onto the page....I must make an altar to the writing memory gods.

Okay. I think I have taken myself off the hook enough to go to bed and wake up and try and eat the cancer diet, exercise the body, conserve money, write the best of the heart, and clean the room spic and span...THen I will be perfect and no man in a  little guilty suit will be able to shake his finger at me and disrupt the inner angels from playing hooky on school to go joy riding with the cute boy.  Nice girls finish last.

Forgive. Move Forward

Again I stay away too long from blogging, when it does my heart so good to know that whats inside will be expressed. I cannot explain the levels of procrastination and resistance, BUT, all I can do is begin again. Forgive. And move forward. Forgive. And move forward. This seems to be the theme in my life right now. To forgive and move forward. Mostly....forgive myself, entirely. I don't tend to be as forgiving as I would like, I tend to latch on to things and repeat them in my head, rehashing different angles and trying to get them to be other than they are. I have wasted alot of time like this. This too must be forgiven.

My mother is ill. After these past 7 months dealing with my own illness, now my mother pops up with this intense thing. Lymphoma. Stage 4. Aggressive, rare large cell lymphoma. It isn't pretty. Its all over her body and she is having trouble eating and so has lost alot of weight. My mother was skinny to begin with, so now, even more so. I haven't seen her yet as she is in California, but on Monday I will fly out there and be with her for a 10 days. Then I will need to come back and deal with my own healthcare here.

My mother and I have not seen each other in 3 years, its been like that. Estranged. And yet still close. I have avoided her. My last visit was so painful and dramatic, I simply didn't go back. I didn't want to, although I kept meaning to, thinking it would be good for me to go but at the same time, avoiding it. Now it seems I really have to go back and clean up the uncomfortable stuff that was left between us. Really look her in the eyes and forgive her and ask her for her forgiveness so that we can both move forward.

The thing is, she wants to go. She isn't interested in staying so much. Chemo doesn't even interest her to give her perhaps a chance. She is at peace with leaving.  She keeps saying she can't figure out why she is so peaceful,  why she feels so connected to God as she does, why she isn't more freaked out. I wonder how she doesn't want to stay around for her grand children, or learning music or her dogs or the sunset. But thats not for me to say to a dying person, to convince them of why they should want to live. Its their life. Not mine. I personally want to LIVE, and celebrate and create and explore and expose and transform. I want that. I do I do I do. To dance on many dance floors and share that dance with the people in my life, to give that back to them on all the levels. So I must forgive her and forgive myself.

For what? For not living fully, For taking things for granted, for not letting my talents shine, for not offering myself more to others and to the community. And yet, what is this "more"? Who says? I do. I havent given all I have wanted to give, I have held back, post poned, put off and resisted doing the things I really want to be doing. I didn't go to see my own mother, to say I forgive you and I love you, out of pride, fear, pushing away the feelings that would come with that kind of honesty, whatever it was I didn't do it. Kind of. If the now is right on time, like it says it is, then all of that was perfect. Except now what? Where do I begin now? At the beginning. It is so simple.

Forgive. Move forward. Repeat. I love you, I forgive you, I am sorry. Over and over again. Until your heart is so open every single perfect thing that will make your life shine, will come thru and play you a fool. YOU? Like a reed, played by God. Let God play thru you. How can she if you are so filled with all the ways it should look, should have happened, and should have gone. She cant, She trips over your shoulds.  Let that perfection come in and there will be less questions of how and what etc. It will be spontaneously hard work to keep plodding away at something that gives you joy. Showing up for that joy, day after day. And you will know. What to say to your old and ill mother, how to be there for her and how to let her die as she wants. To help her to cross with love and acceptance. And then from this space, something new will be bloomed in your soul. A new life. A new way of accepting and forgiving yourself....each day.

Forgive. Move forward. It is the only way.

MUSIC-The Healing of the Soul

How do we heal? Not just on a physical level but on a level that goes deeper than just bone and blood and flesh? Since its not about just healing Cancer to stay alive, but also healing a soul that was needing to express itself thru this body in the form of dis-ease. Suddenly everything that wasn't working in my life or not working enough, is suddenly up in my face and ready to be transformed.  The cancer microscope has suddenly put a view on all things outdated or unused or simply not working at all.

The truth is, I have struggled with a profound sense of loss that I can never quite put my finger on to know where it comes from. It is a haunting from something I have never found to have happened in this life or consciously. It has always baffled me as I have always felt a great passion for life and a great desire to experience and enjoy and sometimes, out of nowhere, this haunting comes and causes such a profound shrinking back from life, and a sabotage of everything I have built or created. It causes me not to trust myself, to not trust that I will be able to show up for the people or things in my life that matter the most to me. There has always been a sense of one foot out the door, a sense that no matter how much I do or give this unsettled feeling will always find me.

Perhaps it will. I think they call this the shadow, I think they call this ego. I think they call this low self-esteem. I think they call this isolation. I think they call this.....darkness. Whatever they call it, and whoever "they" is, I am ready to let it go. I am ready to look it in the eye and say, yes, I see you, you think I can't do alot of things and there are a whole host of reasons I am not good enough for the things that truly mean something to me, and you like to run thru my mind and create separation, and you may go ahead and have your time doing your little jig, but I got news for you. I am going to enjoy my life anyway.

One of the ways I enjoy my life is by surrounding myself in music. Since highschool, I always had music on and always had a walk man under the covers when I went to sleep at night. Finally we progressed to the CD man and I found running and Runners high to music, mostly Led Zeppelin and The Doors...running around my northern california suburban neighborhood filled with the power of spirit, when the mind rested and suddenly the endorphins kicked in and there was a sense of flight. Wow. I would find God on the sidewalk in Nike's, that Californian sunshine burning thru my brain like God's gold.

From there we entered College and the life in the NYU dorms. Moving in with a group of girlfriends was one of the most fun years of my life. We had a strobe light we would hang from the ceiling and then blast music into our little dorm room. I lived in a suite at the dorms on 3rd avenue and 11thst, despite our adequate living room and the presence of two other rooms, the dancing always ended up in my room. We would invite the boys over, a group of guys we spent alot of time with and drink 40's of malt liqour and beer. Eventually the Dee Lite would kick in and we would be madly dancing all mushed in together in our little room, drunk and sometimes stoned, 19 free and happy. I can remember the feeling when the music would take me and I began to taste those first moments of dance ecstasy. Eventually we started going to clubs as young people in NYC eager to be sexy and hip and wild and dancing into all hours of the morning. Later I found the 5 Rhythms and Gabrielle Roth and felt like I had come home to a dance floor I had never left. The dance had always been in me, it now finally had a practice to form around it. And music was the main point of the practice, it was the music I had come for, the feeling when the body melted into the music and the music was dancing the body alive. It was always about the rhythm and the beat of the music that called me, that created those moments of ecstasy.  Later when I found Pachamama and we had listening meditations during the silence, where we would sit and just let the music fill our souls, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I think I did.

Yet I never felt music was something I could do or be a part of, it was only something I could dance to, to participate with, not as. I sang in college, and I remember I was decent, I could carry a tune, but I never thought it was something that was really mine. My mother had been a singer, that was hers. I was different. I didn't really know what was mine to claim, even acting which felt like it should be my talent to claim failed me and once I started dancing, I felt like I had come home to my own special place. It just made sense...the love of moving the body to music had been there since the beginning of it all. And she didnt dance, in fact she was a poor dancer, so I could shine where she couldn't. In Pachamama when that first long trance happened down by the river, I am certain the heavens opened up and took me in their arms that day, whispered thru that wind that this space was forever more home. It was just like that.  I would rise at 5 am sometimes 4 am to crawl thru the dark forest to the meditation hall and practice yoga for 2 hours to my ipod and once I learned how to work the sound system I would listen to it on the big speakers. The first thing I wanted in the morning was the pulse of music througout my whole body, breath and mind.

But in the last two years before the diagnosis, I got a bit detoured from my path and found I wasn't alwys putting my music on or getting up early to do yoga or taking those walks thru central park with just my music and my thoughts. Something died in me n the last two years that I am still trying to peice together, triggered by some event or something I am still trying to figure out. But something definitely gave up inside of me. Too many heart breaks over and over, too many ways I was putting myself out to lovers that really couldn't offer me what I deserved. Too many ways I was hurting myself on another, an easy way to blame someone on the outside for my own self rejection. Letting myself be used, thinking sex was love, not understanding the fumblings of my own imagination about romance. The expectations, the lies, the ways in which I was hiding from having to deal with my own relationship to myself.  One after another and I can count about 6 different lovers, that I didnt investigate thoroughly before jumping into intimacy, and then blamed them for my own error, when I realized it was nothing more than hormones and romantic fantasy based in girlhood dreams of what love should or could look like. I didn' respect myself enough to spend the time to get to know them and let them get to know me.  A subtle form of self sabotage or I just didnt really want to get to know them?
Anyway the point is, over and over I let my heart take some real bumps and finally I think I just closed in and stopped trying...I decided there must be something wrong with me. Always a wounded child talking there, when we decide that. Is it ever REALLY about us? Its about a flow of universe that no one has control over

So now the healing must come from opening back up to all that is good and real. There is so much goodness all around me, so much happening in ways we cannot predict that is good for the earth, that is good for our souls. I want to be a part of that, to be a part of bringing that goodness here to this person, to this tribe, to this city, to this country, to this earth. So I gotta put the music on, its gotta go on and loud and I must wrap myself in it, cozy like a newborn baby.
As Susheela Raman sings "Woman, he doesn't know your worth, dont be tortured by a Mad Man, you've got to get out! The prison door is open".  A beautiful song off her album Salt Rain called Woman. We build our own prisons and then complain someone else put us there. We turn the music off and then complain the DJ sucks. The DJ never really sucks we just have to learn how to dance better. :)

Even if they are Holistic, they still make too much Money.

Finally. The hour has arrived where I can clear myself of this ridiculousness. RIDICULOUSNESS....is a word that has the word dick in the middle of it. Do I sound lewd? Well I dont really care. I give myself full permission to be tastefully lewd. Okay first I am going to pause and think positive thoughts and send love to all the people I am mad at right  now.......
Okay. Now I can be mad again.  Anyway every time I thought of them, I just thought, but they are so ridiculous how can I be mad, its almost comical. Except. It really isn't. It is REDICKULESS....meaning you were a dick again and were less than you could have been. Okay enough semantics. Lets get to the story.

First of all. If you have been reading this blog you understand that I have elected not to do chemotherapy. Brave girl that I am. Or some may say stupid. Or some may say, intelligient. Or some don't say anything because it is too overwhelming for them to take it all in. They just stare in wide eyed wonder and say "oh"...oh well. Anyway, the point is I ain't doing the stuff. So that means, the traditional guys want nothing to do with me, because basically I have defected. I have "gone holistic" as they like to say. Which means I now belong with the people that don't shower all that much and probably smoked a lot of pot in med school and believe in unseen realities that don't exist because they have a hard time believing in what is right in front of their faces, like "the facts". Because as we know our current reality, is solid and never changing and what we see it what we get. Based on facts. Its true. Just ask politicians. Ha! ....okay, anyway...you get my point. I am being sarcastic, if you didnt get my point and if you have been reading this blog, you know that I get sarcastic when I am really freakin pissed off. Because if I dont mask it with sarcasm then I might just say things that are mean. And blogging isnt about being mean. Its about ....I don't know what blogging is about actually. I am sure some would argue it is definitely not about literature.

Okay, so here it is. I defected from the traditional white coats, and headed over to the holistic white coats. Come to think of it this new guy wasn't wearing a white coat he was wearing a Yamulke...(spelling?) and a nice navy suit. His eyes were blue, like ice....or the ocean, depending on how hopeful I was at his savior abilities. And I sat there in my yoga back pack, girlish way, resting my chin on my hands that were perched on his desk, feeling comfortable to like break the body language of upright chair doctor's office posture, because, look this guy was in my tribe man, he wasn't no straight lace, boring nerd who actually took the text books as truth, he was a renegade, a rebel, he had defected too! He was HOLISTIC .....And jewish on top of it, alright, now we were allies!-- oppressed people, fighting for a cause, bucking the system, confronting the mainstream, challenging the cliche.....Right?

And there were moments, moments when I knew he knew that I knew that he knew that I knew that not doing chemo was right, I mean he had serious moments when I felt, he really was taking this journey with me. This was a crusade, and he was my homey, we were riding the no chemo horse together, we were gonna go this distance, we were gonna make it.  And as I was thinking that, you know, the appointment ended a half hour after it started, $400 dollars later and I was being given some pills and sheduled for some Vit C IV, which he said...at least once a week if not twice is ideal. I paid a bunch of money, they gave me some sort of discount for a package of IVs and some shots of B 12 in my butt and I was in the elevator going down to Lexington avenue to walk thru a sea of suits and ties at lunch on a busy midtown afternoon. People were looking fancy, educated, you know sophisticated up there, like they must have it all together, look they aren't smiling, they must know something important, like about how to make money and spend it....oh I don't know maybe they were thinking about a hamburger, but they weren't smiling a whole lot and looked rushed and busy.

So I went home to brooklyn, yes way out there where there are things like trees and apartments the size of walk in closets and I looked forward to my first IV that next week. Well, that week came and went, I had the IV and I waited to see how I felt until the following week when I scheduled another IV...but that one felt so good, I said well, lets go for a second one in the week, after all my homey crusader Mr. Holistic Doctor said two in one week is ideal. Lets treat myself right! So I called the office feeling all responsible and on task...a good patient, a responsible patient, filled with hope for the future, trust in the Homey Holistic Doctor and grateful such a fine city like New York could provide me with such educated and sophisticated professionals in which to get my treatment.

" I am sorry ma'm" when did I start being a ma'm?-- " The office is on vacation for the next two weeks but we can fit you in on thursday...." Thursday??? Thats two weeks away! " Well we dont have anything available until then" Are you serious? I just was in the office four days ago and nobody mentioned this. " I am terribley sorry, the nurse wont be back until then, she is on vacation".....!!!!!!!!
Why would you reccomend a 1-2 time a week treatment and then go on vacation and not even tell me? This is RIDICULOUSNESS...." Well shall I make an appointment for you then? Anyway the doctor always says it doesnt really impact you if you have a gap of time between treatments" Oh really? Is that supposed to make me feel better, seeing as I just plunked down 3000$ for all these treatments that I "needed" and were good for me? Now you are saying I dont really even need them? I feel confused....either what you are offering doesnt really work or you have just screwed up my treatments plans royally and I paid for it. Okay yeah, put me down for next thursday, what else can I do? "Great see you then!" Yeah okay. Ridiculous office of ridiculous people...yeah okay. See you then. By the way did I mention, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and I am not doing chemo, but instead coming to your office to have you help treat me? I mean I don;t mean to be a pain in your neck, but in case you forgot.

Next wednesday rolls around. Oops, I double booked my mover with the Vit C IV date. I call them to change it to friday, because as we know, by thrusday they are back in the office. I call. I call again. I call again. I call a few more times....the answering machine keeps saying the office is open this week and listing the hours but no one seems to answer...and there is no recorded message of a holiday. " Hi the office is on vacation at the time you need them the most. Sorry if we didnt tell you before, but now you know" There was nothing....Finally I get ahold of a very nice, but nervous english lady. Hi, I need to reschedule to friday I double booked and can't change my movers. "Oh we are on vacation until the 7th--all next week and after the weekend" !!!!!!!! HUH? But they told me thrusday you all were coming back....Now it will be 3 weeks of no treatment. This is crazy. "I am so very very sorry, I completely understand. But everyone is on vacation" WELL NOBODY TOLD ME ANY OF THIS ESPECIALLY NOT THE UNTIL SEPT 7TH PART!!? Hey, did I mention, maybe its in the notes, I don;t know why they would write it down but maybe they would just in interest of the patient, but I am NOT doing chemotherapy so this IS my treatment, its not just, so like my hair doesnt fall out, its like so I dont get cancer ever again....and you all just prolonged my treatment by 3 weeks and I am about to reach thru the phone and pull out your english hair and weave myself a whip to bring back in to the office and have my way with you all. Yeah I got a little mideivel....midtown brings it out in me.

Well, I didnt say that. She was english. They don't like impolite american banter. I felt bad that she was getting the brunt of my frustration, poor little english secretary everyone just ditched to go on vacation...fielding all the hostile phone calls, who else didn't they tell? Was it just me? I certainly hope the doctor knew, I hope they weren't all out riding his yacht without him, where is the doctor? Oh shit, we forgot to tell him it was vacation time! Oh wait no, there he is, sipping a beer starboard, rubbing suntan oil on his knish belly while he dreams of his next big book " How to Cure People Without Being in the Office". For dummies.

Okay sarcasm aside for a minute....does anyone think this is RIDICULOUS to the maximum? As if this maze of doctors couldn't get any more, yes I will say it again RIDICULOUS....I cannot fathom how this could have happened. I mean, go down the list and call everybody. Put a mark next to their name that you talked to them. Call back if not. Go back over the list. I am not pro secretary of a doctors office, but I know if I had people with life threatening diseases, I would be up all night making sure they knew I was going out to my yacht for a few weeks with the nurse and all the IV's. I mean if only in interest of my book or in interest of my Yelp complaints or I dont know, in interest of my patients, the human beings that depend on me and my staff to do their jobs. Not just because we make shoes and people need good shoes, but because, people have cancer and diabetes, and epilepsy and because well, I make a ton of money to help these people.  And without their money, I certainly don't get a yacht, nor do I get a fancy suit, nor do I get a big office nor do I get the prestigious titles. Its really in your best interest.

But no. You would rather be ridiculous and rub suntan oil on your belly, while I pull out your secretary's hair and hold it for ransom. My book, is going to be better than yours. And for sure, you are not invited on my vacation.

What Else Am I Doing?

Please read previous post as it is the beginner for this one...otherwise it might make no sense to you and you will think I am a fruit cake writer. Well.

Anyway, what ELSE am I doing? Dancing alot. As much as my body will let me. Doing Yoga as much as feels right. I have recently started taking Belly Dance because I kept getting the intuition that I needed to get more in touch with my Hara, my solar plexus, ya know the ole midrif, belly wise place. And anyway, the chics are hot and the music rocks and all in all, you just get to do things in front of the mirror they told you good girls didnt do. So its my kinda scene. I try to get to the park and nature more often, but I find I get so wrapped up in everything I am doing, I kind of fall out of it sometimes.  And then I get antsy like crazy and feel like I am about to hop a plane or else I will start rolling in the dirt like a dog. Except the dirt in NYC has trash and needles in it and I wouldnt let my dog, if I had one, roll around in it. I was hitting the beach a few times which was nice. Out on Long Island...but then I found garbage floating in there too and I got the skivvies. I have been spoiled in Costa Rica....and I am thankful. Plus all the people at the beach, who can relax....I did take a nice walk at sunset but again, had to dodge the trash. Really, who would ever leave trash at the beach and why would I want to live around them?

I try and think positively and not go into the fear box. But it happens. Not so much about cancer, just about life....money.....love,....manifesting dreams.....getting older.....being childless.....2012......looking at the scar on my breast....wondering how God is gonna work all this out into some sort of happy ending fairy tale. Worried if I keep hanging back and expecting God to do everything, it won;t get done because he is waiting for me to do it....miscommunication. Mercury in retrograde kind of situation. But I thought you were gonna do it...No I thought YOU were gonna do it. And then it never gets done. Except I dont think it works like that. I keep trying to remember how it does work and then I realize I still don't know so really, WHAT am I worried about? Then I think about some sort of tatoo that will make my breast scar look hot. But is it good to put ink into the skin where cancer has been. HAS BEEN...Cancer is now a HAS BEEN....Fuck you doctors. Oops I am not supposed to say that....I am supposed to be grateful and feeling blessed by their presence because everything is God. Well then, the fuck you is too. And I am grateful for them. But ya know....they can stay the f*** away from me for now.  Somehow I become a ghetto porn star when I start to talk about doctors...they bring it out in me...maybe cause they all seem so white and civil and like they need a good lay.  Thats another post.

I try to speak my mind MORE. Its been a bit awkward. I think I burned a few bridges with some folks. But I didn't do it lying....so ...so be it if they are really burned.  I feel the Kali in me coming out super strong, burning and slicing with her sword...just the things that are false. It can look negative, but what I really think it is, is just FIRE. And letting go of this idea that I have to be a nice girl all the time. I feel like I wanna get really BAD but then I also realize this may not go over well with certain people. I have to learn this art of the bad girl.  Who knew this could be the healing for me....Of course gratitude and humbleness....this is always the teaching. Arrogance and righteousness, I still struggle with am I being arrogant or am I just BEING the fire that is my flavor?. And then I see that anger is not a feminine trait I have been conditioned to accept as being okay.  And so I have stuffed it into this breast and look at the mess it got me in. So thank you, I will get angry when it is appropriate and be grateful for its force and fire.  Honor the force that is anger...the wild storm of Kali has her place too next to sweet and humble Kuan Yin.  I can feel my breasts getting perkier already....

What Am I Doing?

Well now that Chemo has been taken off the list....now what? Many people have asked me this, with a bit of a look of bewilderment in their eyes....so no chemo? And....now what...?  Now what I ask myself.

Well there is the physical reality, such as herbs and supplements.  I think in another post I will list them all. To think of them all makes me dizzy...In fact right now writing this I realize I need to order about 10 more, because I am running low. So there is that. Herbs, supplements and more hard core therapies like Vit C IV, Avemar (an immune booster) and soon Mistletoe Extract. Mushrooms (not the psychedlic ones-yet). Liquid this and liquid that...all the things for my smoothies...maca. bee pollen, flax, spirulina, berries, green powder. I eat mostly raw, lots of greens, smoothies, green juices...its boring. An indulgence is natural potato chips in olive oil and almond butter. Pms is brutal....all I want is veganaise. Its pathetic. Sometimes I am so tempted to just order a bagel with Tuna salad and swiss cheese-my favorite comfort food, and I wonder...Really? Will this one meal really impact me that much? But then who wants to find out down the line sometime......thats the rattle in the head. And I go to my standard avocado on rice cakes....big splurge! I am not supposed to do rice to much if at all and limit my fats. With fat in the blood the oxygen can't get in and thats what we want to make the cancer go away. Oxygen...muy.

Yes I have a Holistic Doctor. He is jewish, he wears a suit and tie, he folds his hands neatly on his desk, he seems to be talking to something "out there" because he rarely looks at me and when he does his eyes are very penetrating. But the flicker a bit when I meet his gaze undisturbed...no doctor is every going to intimidate me again and I let them know with one look "listen buddy, I am just as smart as you and I may not have been to medical school, but I got an intuition that will bite you, so just simmer your Mr. Hotpants Brainiac down". So far its working... He has a new daughter and her picture is on the desk and I pointed to it and said,,,ah so is this  your daughter, to which he replied with a smile....Everybody has that soft spot for their kids. That was our one heart to heart. After that he was back to business. He wears a yamulke ....no idea if I spelled that right.

I go in 1-2 times a week and they pump vit C in me and its cold and I read Alex Grey's Transfigurations which sits on the table and watch all the interesting sick people come in. The other day I watched a 5 year old get held down by 3 adults for some shots. Its live action in this place...They lay me out on this nice leather lazy boy where the bottom comes up for the feet? And I just pretend God's breath is being shot into my veins and that Alex Grey is speaking to me thru his visions. I think this all might be true.  The other day a very annoying guy with dyed hair was sitting across from me, very obviously agitated by the nurse not being there yet, and very much wanting somebody to know he was agitated and I had so much fun, pretending I was so absorbed in my book, I hadn't noticed.  Just letting his agitation arise from not getting the attention that he wanted....I kind of was absorbed in the book, this Alex Grey has some good stuff to say. Then when the guy was like borderline ridiculous, jumping out of his chair every 3 seconds looking for the nurse thru the plexiglass, I looked up from my book at the guy and said "Why dont you just go and find her?" to which this seemed to be the okay for him...it was like I had released him from  his little prison...its okay to be agitated dude, do something about it already. Jeesh. I am trying to let God in here please...thank you. He kept whipping out this little brush and combing his dyed hair too, it was really weird. Nervous tick or something...Grace is the nurse and she is the best thing about the place. I am sure she works way to hard.

But besides this....what else am I doing?

You see the thing is, this cancer story is not about "not dying". Its not about getting rid of cancer so that I can live a long and happy life. Of course it is about living a long and happy life, but if I am truly honest with myself, before the cancer, I was having some deep things troubling me and I don't think I was living as in tune with the soul as I deeply wanted to be. There were pockets of intense separation from life, of missing something I could not put my finger on, moments of finding it so full and rich and deep inside, only to be lost again in the darker corners of self rejection, and a sense of belonging no where, of not finding a sense of rightness, of connection, of purpose. And of aching to find that "fit" I thought others were finding with a partner or work or a place....a sense of belonging.  The truth is I had those things, but when the darkness of the soul comes, it covers everything in grey, and the gems of your life look pale, as if their sparkle was the lie, not the actual lie itself.  Its tricky that part of the soul. But it plays it's part in the healing and the growing, in the flowering into the actuality of our light. We are light. Its not a nice spiritual idea. Its the truth.

So the thing is in this chemotherapy/breast cancer journey is on the outside it looks like one must save their life, prevent death.  But, to me what I have found, is what life? What life am I preserving? Because even before the cancer I was in a way rejecting my life, and not fully living. Many people would argue with me and say "oh you live this fabulous life between NYC and Costa Rica with these amazing communities of dance and living in a tribe and celebrating the healthy life on the earth....and this is true, life has showered me with blessings. But inside, there was a disconnect happening, a deep rejection, a sense of carrying something in me that would always be broken, that no matter how many dances/ceremonies/people I could find, this broken part could never be fixed.  And I feel the breast cancer came to wake me up out of that lie, and to give me back life, to shake me out of that dark corner of illusion.

Its tricky with western medicine. I want to believe their charts and graphs and studies are based on something I can hold on to.  That the men in white coats can be my heroes and "cure" me. Except their work is based on an idea that makes absolutely no sense to me. That the body is somehow separate from our souls, that it is just this machine we have to fix, and that our hearts and minds have no bearing on it. There is a whole branch of medicine and science that they simply don't look at, that they aren't allowed to look at and an industry that is making a ridiculous amount of money off of the same treatments.  How can I blindly follow that? Especially when I know this cancer is not about "saving" my life, but about living life, that to really live life, I MUST follow the inner heart, the inner knowing.  To really stand for what I know is the truth. And the truth is we don't know life's plan for us. And one day we will die, life is not "ours", we will have to surrender these bodies back to the earth, and continue on in directions none of us really knows, but can only trust are there and are kind. So the real issue is not preventing death, death is inevitable, the real source of contemplation is how do we want to live?

From that question, I arrive at the knowing that chemotherapy is not the only way and that nature is our friend and ally, she is our mother and she does have the ability to cure.  I am sure I could do the chemotherapy and be fine, minimal side effects (maybe-hopefully no long term ones either) and I would move on with my life, its not like chemotherapy is the outright devil. . I don't look at it that way.  But chemotherapy does tax the body in an intense way, it kills not only cancer but healthy cells as well and there is no guarantee that the cancer wont come back. There is no guarantee that a cancer cell may have split off after the chemo missed it and now, the immune system is so depleted after the chemo that it can't do its job to take care of it as it would naturally.  But to do chemotherapy without at least allowing in the wisdom of nature, without at least looking for alternative ways that are based on the foundation that the body/mind/spirit are all connected, seems to me backwards.  Chemotherapy should be a last resort....unfortunately cancer has become such a big ugly thing, that the fear factor kicks in and I have found myself making decisions from a place of panic rather than giving myself a chance to take a breath and tune in. Why would a health care provider want me in a state of fear, if he or she really understood how that impacts our health overall?  What kind of awareness is that?  And do I want to follow that kind of guidance? Coming from that kind of thinking?

This is the way of life I wish to return to, a way of life in trust, to create life out of this cancer challenge. A new LIFE...not a fear of dying, or a running from dying. But a deep embrace of life, a deep embrace of living fully. And I just think that life lived fully is about trusting the body and listening deeply to her call. Cancer is not a death sentence, and it is not an evil monster, nor is death....To embrace life we must embrace death, to embrace timelessness we must embrace time, everything in its right place, every part plays itself in harmony with all the other parts.  And I have no doubt chemotherapy is playing its perfect role as well, except for now, not on my time.....

To Chemo or Not to Chemo....that is the question.

Yes, they had told me....CHEMOTHERAPY. They told me their numbers, they showed me fancy charts with highlighted arrows and lines so I could find my place in their world of numbers. My oncotype test, a test that looks at gene expression and then puts that info in to some fancy algorithm that then calculates your score of recurrence in 5 years, was 44. "To high" my doctor said, "Not to do something about"....A 30% chance of recurrence, even with 5 years of tamoxifen a daily pill I am supposed to take which causes bone aches and liver damage and just overall weirdness in the body, not to mention birth defects if you have a baby. Anything that causes birth defects, is probably pretty out of tune for the body in general, no?  Then they plugged my numbers into a computer to show me how each different type of chemo would work ....this chemo gives you this number, this chemo gives you this number, this chemo may cause kidney damage, liver failure, a bald head, no periods, possible infertility and massive retching, but look your score went down 4% for rate of recurrence. My question was,...where are these numbers coming from and how do we know anything else about these people besides they were doing chemo?

I mean, if one woman is doing greens and herbs and started Reiki and also does chemo.....how do we know it isn't the Reiki that cured her? And how do we know that the people who did have a recurrence weren't out every night at the local bar slinging back martini's and eating chicken wings? How do I know if anything has even spread if my insurance won't even approve the Cat scan to check my whole body? And why does that same insurance approve the chemotherapy so fast?  Aren't these values a little off?....Lets approve the harsh treatment, but not the test that could possibly show if we need the harsh treatment to begin with. Excellent logic kids. I hope you at least make some money from the drug company somehow.....they certainly have enough of it.

Then I thought, well maybe he is right, maybe I do need the chemo and its just one of those phases in life that you may not like, but it just is what it is. So I went in again to his office and sat in the nice chair and waited for him to come in. The big evil doctor....except I actually really like my doctor and actually joke around with him and find him to be a generally nice, caring human being.  He likes to travel, that's cool, he has these funky Mexican rugs on the wall and art from Colombia and pictures of big elephants that I think he found somewhere in India.  And he wears these light yellow linen blazers or he wears a colorful shirt...he has flavor for a middle aged New York doctor. I like that.  He is also a toucher, he likes to pat my hand in a fatherly way or take one of my hands in both of his big hands, I mean, he knows how to work the fatherly charm with a little twinkle in his eye, kind of on the edge of flirting but not like in an offensive sleazy way, in a cute doctor sweet way.  He's got it down.

So he goes over the charts and graphs with me again, the highlighter comes out, he highlights my place on the graph.....he sits next to me and writes out what my platelets need to be,  he says I wont loose my hair and that he can prescribe me anti-nausea medicine and synthetic marijuana that comes in pills. Oh wonderful, more drugs!  I joke about wanting the real thing and will it get me stoned like that, and he laughs and says maybe if you put some Grateful Dead on....we laugh....its funny. Its nothing this chemo stuff, its like smoking a joint and listening to some Grateful Dead. The chemo room has snacks and t.v's and you can listen to music while they inject you with the stuff, you can watch CNN and snack on graham crackers and snapple.  "I don't want you thinking about it" he says, "I want you working and living your life and not thinking about it at all, don't read that stuff on the Internet, it will drive you crazy". Oh. Okay. I should just like turn the other cheek and hope for the best? Not make an informed decision? Like maybe if I was informed I wouldn't do it.  He hands me the forms to sign.  Then he mentions, and I still cant figure out why he mentioned this to me, "you know the same people who created chemical weapons, created chemotherapy" like agreeing with me it was a freaky situatiThere happens to be a long list of side effect at the top.  I ask him about them because he doesn't mention them. HE DOESN'T MENTION THEM...????

I start to read them, possible kidney failure, possible this, possible that.....as I ask about them he crosses a few off that don't apply to my special chemotherapy drug mixture. But he still doesn't talk about the other ones NOT crossed off.  Well, what about those? I ask. But its really like he doesn't want to talk about them. And some part of me doesn't want to either. Its so much easier to sign the form, smile and joke, go out and live my life, stick out my arm on the day of treatment and watch CNN while they download my body with toxic chemical warfare and just bury my head in the sand.  Its like he was waiting for me to take the hook, like waiting for me to just say, yeah okay, I don't need to know about the side effects, they have snacks in the chemo room and after I will be stoned, no problem! This is no big deal.  Maybe this is the best way, a spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down....Except, we still don't know if the chemo is medicine and if it will stay down and not come back up in a big ugly way. ha ha.

At that point in time, I just want relief and for this to be over, so I sign the papers and figure I can renege later.....instead of sitting there, feeling like he is waiting for me to just sign already and stop asking questions. Some part of me wished I could just trust him and he could be my hero and this could all be over and I could move on and live my life...but the thing is, something in side knows....I just don't think I can stick out my arm and accept that stuff in my body......I don't care how comfortable the chemo room is and how much I like my doctor and how nice and stoned I get....something in my gut won't give.  I walk around for a week telling people I am starting chemotherapy in a week on Tuesday.....I do this alot. Make a decision and change my mind and this was a perfect example of a time when I did that but now understood why. You make a decision and then you walk around and wear it for awhile to see how it feels...like buying a dress and wearing it at home but then later, taking it back to the store. I was trying chemo on....seeing what the universe thought, seeing how life felt with chemotherapy on my schedule. I had an appointment for chemotherapy...hmmm.....what would I wear....would I go to dance class that night? Would I go alone or take a friend? Should I do a ceremony before I go in, like bless the drugs and light a candle....play chant music while I let it come into my body...what would it feel like?  Would I start to loose hair immediately? Or would it just thin slightly like he said.

The Sunday before that Tuesday chemo appointment I had a call with a "medical intuitive", a guy based in Florida, who a friend who I trust, had referred to me.  This guy felt the chemo was no good....that women were getting over treated and that breast cancer was actually a result of the Epstein Barr Virus that we were getting from the vaccines that we get as children.  His theory, and supposedly the man "hears spirit" was that the vaccines were created so that it actually give us cancer....keeping the "cancer machine" running. Pretty out there stuff. But I must admit, some part of my intuition was in tune with it. He recommended I eat ALOT of fruit, which was counter to everything all the other holistic people had been telling me, that cancer feeds off sugar and I needed to stay away from it...including fruit, except for berries.  The medical intuitive also prescribed some different supplements and tinctures, some mushroom stuff and some other stuff...and more stuff. My god if I take anymore stuff I am going to explode. Then he said in regards to the chemo"You know, whatever you want to do, I support you, but you should really think about it". He said he would call some of the doctors he works with and ask them about my particular case and get back to me. He charges me $300....I go to the beach with my girlfriend and eat french fries because I am so confused...with mayonnaise.  Well, he did say potatoes were okay. And onions. We had onion rings....bad cancer diet day. WHO is telling the truth? The doctors or the holistic people? I feel pushed and pulled. I lay on the beach and try to commune with god but my mind is racing.

The next day, I wake up crying. It is Monday. I do chemo Tuesday. I don't want to do chemo and I feel so helpless....I cry. How do I get out of it? My parents will kill me, I signed the forms and if I don't do it what if it spreads and I die? But I really, just cannot do it....So I get up and I pray and I ask God and the angels, I say "I need a really REALLY clear as day sign, because you know how I get and can't make decisions about things, so its gotta be super clear, the writing is on the wall  kind of sign....please?". Ten minutes later the medical intuitive calls and tells me all three doctors he calls thinks chemo is over treatment for my case and I would be fine with holistic therapy...We talk for 45 minutes and he only charges me $40. He tells me he held off on 3 other calls to call me and he has a special feeling about me....hmmm....I bet he says that to all the girls.  I email the chemo doctor.  I am just not ready I say, I would like to "postpone", but I fail to mention "indefinitely",  I keep that part for myself. 

Egg Retrievel and NEWS!

I apologize for not writing more....some times the days come and I feel so overwhelmed in trying to remember all the things I need to do, I simply can't find any words. From now on I am going to get up early and write with the fresh light of the morning. I know it is so good for my soul to just get it out. Having cancer is a full time job between research, appointments, figuring out how to pay for it and doing things to support your healing, not to mention all the phone calls and emails of concerned family and friends that want to know how you are doing. Thank god for support. Goddess too:)


Yesterday I went in for the Full Moon Harvest, as I like to call it, the retrievel of my eggs before chemotherapy to protect my chances of conceiving one day with my own eggs. This was a no question procedure for me and it all flowed very easily to find the doctor and the non-profit that could offer me a less expensive procedure. My doctor, Dr. Oktay, just happens to be one of the best in the area so I lucked out. The process was a week of fertility drugs and injections, plus a drug called Femarra, to lower my estrogen, as I have extrogen positive cancer to they have to be careful. These drugs made me senstive and emotional as well as being bloated and a bit spaced out. But it was only for one week. They monitored me 4 times that week on a sonnegram to see how the ovaries were developing. Then, when it reached the right point, they gave me a trigger shot to stimulate the ovaries to release the eggs and I went in for some anesthesia and a 40 minute procedure that extracted the eggs.  I guess I am one "fertile mama" as my friend Jules said, because I got 20 eggs and 19 good ones. Usually women my age get 6-12....so it was a very lucrative operation. At least now I know I have some back up for after chemo if I meet Mr. Right and decide on motherhood. I sure do hope so, all of this has made me realize how much I do want children and family, which is such a gift as I think I convinced myself I would be fine without it. I guess I would be "fine" but in my ideal life, I have kids and grandkids and I am sitting on the porch in a hammock telling stories about when the internet first came out....

The side effects from the retrievel are minimal, but as I have always had intense menstrual cycles, I have quite a bit of cramping and can feel my ovaries with every step I take. I can feel they are sore and need some time to just rest. As I am supposed to start chemotherapy next week, I think I might want to wait a week or two to just give my body some time to recharge, but lets see....Also this chemotherapy business is just so weird, I still don't feel 100% on it, especially once I read all the side effects. Also as I read more and more about cancer and emotions, I get the intuitive feeling that the emotional work is the thing that really is going to heal me. Check out www.alternative-cancer-care.com it is a fantastic site to learn about the emotions behind the cancer in the first place and how it impacts the body...I feel like, chemo is easier than dealing with the deeper emotional causes.  I am thinking of going back to acting class, the one and only place I know of that I feel has helped me to be free in emotions and to really let go. Therapy groups to me have always been hokey and I find I just don't break down the walls with some guy telling me to imagine my mother on the opposite wall and I need to tell her how I feel. Its just...I don't know,....contrived...but maybe thats just my resistance. Give me a juicy script any day to let my imagination take me....


Also, for the chemotherapy I am looking at how to support my system with Mistletoe injections and Avemar supplements, these seem to be really great for the immune system in cancer patients....Now I am doing a TON of supplements from my accupuncturist as well as his herbs, western herbs and so much organic vegetables, juices and superfoods as I can do. But truth be told sometimes I break down and have a bagel, although with tofu cream cheese, or some raw chocolate...but not very often. I do know I need to exercise more and do more yoga, after the surgeries I couldnt really because my left arm was weak and now I am resting from the egg retrievel but after my ovaries rest up I am getting back to the movement therapy which as many of you who know me, know, this is my MAIN medicine. Dance. Dance and more dance, throw in some yoga and massage and we have balance.....I need to cry more though and FORGIVE alot...mainly my parents, ex-boyfriends and myself. Stop witholding these emotions for fear it is "too much" or isn't "nice" or people won't like me and run away. I know this intellectually isn't true, but still, I withold.  Its a learned pattern of stuffing. And I don't want to be a turkey anymore....haha. Onward and forth, to the worlds of artistic and emotional expression, wheat grass and Mistletoe....and laughter the very best medicine....All blessings...

Dr. Pepper....diet that is.

I don't want to do chemo but I love my new doctor.  He just has that New York Jewish thing that I have always found charming. Plus he is just plain nice. He sits with me, he hears me, he laughs at my jokes, he makes some of his own that I laugh at, he wears light yellow blazers and drinks Diet Dr. Pepper. "But it says doctor" he replies, when I rouse him for drinking it. "Dr. Malamud--how can you drink this? IT causes Cancer!" I exclaim, have teasing and half serious.

Secretly I want to get a bit angry,  how can you prescribe me chemicals to make me well when you are drinking the chemicals that probably made me unwell to begin with? I don't say this, because, well, really the jury is still out about WHY Aylen has cancer. I think that jury will be out for a long long time. I mean I drank a few diet cokes in my life, quite alot of equal in highschool, trying to get thin, or rather, thinner, by drinking coffee with no calories. Ugh. I shutter to think of the things I did to my body in the efforts to be something I thought I should be.  Now here I am so grateful to have a body, just wanting it to be free of disease, forget cellulite or round tummies. And here is my doctor with Diet Dr. Pepper on his desk as he talks about chemotherapy drugs. "I am missing my aspartame qouta" he jokes some more. I like him for this. He knows its ridiculous.

Its also ridiculous that in the waiting room, is coffee and tea and tons of sweet and low and splenda and sugar packets.....Really, its so ironic.

But they are offering me the chemo "light". No hair loss, less nausea, perhaps some medical marijuana, less fatigue, a nice comfy chair with snacks and a TV while I take it.  CMF. Its been around since the 70's, its the most common, its got good numbers and I am young, so the damage it does do will get taken care of by my young body in a heartbeat.  Well, thats what they say anyway. Then again, I am told the same people who made chemical warfare also made these drugs.....I am not sure if Diet Dr. Pepper was around then. I wonder if there is a connection somehow. 

I get a list of side effects that Dr. Malamud has drawn a black line thru, well at least all the ones he can draw a black line thru. Kidney damage, blah blah damage, this kind of damage.....I wonder why these side effects bother me more than the ones I read about on natural supplements. Now, come to think of it, I dont see that many side effects on natural medicines. Is that because of politics or reality? FDA regulations, all that stuff, I don't know. Should probably go sort thru the miles of information on the internet, again.  I wonder about the guy in that true story movie, Into the Wild who goes and lives out in the forest alone and ends up accidently ingesting a dangerous plant, mistaking it for an edible herb in his trusty herb book. Oops. That came from nature, pure and true, and he died from it. Bet he would have taken some chemo instead of that nasty herb. He died alone in his little camper, pissing blood.

 I stay with this fact as I leave the doctor's office. Maybe Diet Dr. Pepper won't kill me as fast as nature. Maybe chemo will save my life. Maybe I am making the biggest mistake of my life. Maybe I am blessed beyond all goodness. Maybe, I need to go find my roomate and have a glass of wine, even though its supposed to be "bad" for breast cancer. Maybe, nobody really knows what all of this is really about, but God. And for sure, God would want me laughing and remembering, that he works in some mysterious ways.   I think I am going to go get a Diet Dr. Pepper and call it a day.  Better yet, hitchike to the middle of nowhere and talk to the bears. Sigh.

El Rio...the Temple of Rightness

This morning I wake with the River. Not the real river, but a feeling in my bones that I have traveled there in the night to listen to her, to witness her wisdom, in all the teardrops of my soul.  This river is the river to speak to all rivers, pristine, holy, alive with purity for her children. And I miss her.  I wonder if she alone could heal my breast, wash me clean and empty me back to myself and the belief that everything will be alright.

Everyone keeps saying "everything will be alright" but how can they know? Perhaps what they speak of is that, Ultimately....everything will be alright. Even illness and fear, are going to be "alright". But this isn't good enough for me. I want everything to be alright according to my plan, to my idea of what "alright" looks like.  I was expecting a miracle, and to me a masectomy, is a flat out failure. I am failing. The dream of  my life did not include loosing this breast for reasons, that don't seem concrete enough.  Confused cells? Repressed emotions? (Don't we all have these--WHY would I be the one to get this?) A rejected feminine? Anger? Touching people's bodies? Everyone seems to have their opinion as to why Aylen has breast cancer, but the truth is, does any of them REALLY know?  Most of the time, I feel they need to create a reason for their own understanding and fears, so that my cancer can seem part of a cause and effect situation, something, that if they know the reason for, well, then they themselves can avoid. It is too out of control and vulnerable to consider, sometimes things just happen, because if this can happen to me, well this, can happen to them, to anyone. We are not invulnerable to the physical laws of our third dimensional reality--right?

But then again, I dont know this is the "answer".  Perhaps the only answer is to love, deeper, longer, sharper, more comprehensively in all directions that the cancer can take you.....fear, pity, anger, confusion, isolation, frustration, wanting to turn it into a "blessing", wanting to understand its scientific laws, all of it. Bald heads, nausea, doctors, healers, mother issues, father issues....blah blah blah.  Maybe going into that space, nestled so tight along side the mother whisper, that is god, that quiet space in between all the scampering thoughts, in the wisest corner of the soul, rests a knowing so powerful, it consumes all desire to know, to figure out, to understand. It just is. I was walking on the street, I came to a street light and I looked at a dog, a beautiful rottweiler and it came to me....the cancer just is, it could be no other way. Why must I scour all the events in my life to find where it happened and when and how and who and what, it just is. It came to teach me to surrender to Love, to stop fighting, to remember the sacredness of life, the fragileness of human life.  This teaching is in the form of cancer, for whatever reason, some want to say "you chose it", well perhaps on some level, but still I feel these kind of answers, point to a human need to feel in control of God, to feel that if we make the "right" choices, then the universe is under our command and jurisdiction.  Is it?

There is a River, that runs thru a piece of land I have danced with and sweated on, and woken up under endless night skys of stars, a piece of land I have shared with friends in a good good way. In the simple way of gratitude. Digging in the earth, with my hands to create spirals and turtles woven with water and dirt, decorated with flowers and stones and small gathered sticks. These have been some of the happiest moments of my life, filled with a gratitude, immeasurable, a gratitude that needs no "answer" that doesnt need "my choice",  a gratitude that simply consumes me, to say, this, is all there is. 

I have slipped my self into her waters, naked and human to hear the currents of her understanding. To lay my head to her water, one ear submerged in her liquid, the other ear pointed to the sky, and she has spoken. Wordless and present with me. Trailing my fingers over her body, marveling at how water forms itself so delicately with touch, so perfectly in the fabric of god's creation. The  mud under my feet, soft and impressionable, my body weightless and light, free to move but slow, slow as the water resists me. To dance in the river, is to be taught the dance again and again. The endless creativity and aliveness of water, mud, bodies, air, sky, stones. Pushing myself off of rocks, finding where the shallowness teaches me to find length in laying down, in offering myself totally. Submerging my head to hear that primordial womb memory of being consumed by infiniteness, that sound that is the rush of water thru time. Of the trust in the depths below me that I cannot see, in the creatures that may or may not swim past my knees.

I have not know a poetry of truth deeper than this River, I have not experienced a depth of sacredness so comprehensive in one single solid experience of a place on the planet. So I visit her, again and again from my apartment in New York City, thru my dreams, thru my visceral memories and ask her to teach me, find me, wash me, to remind me all is not lost. That if I can find my way back to her shores, to her body of trust and sacredness, if I can drink again from her boundless resources, then I will know to such a depth of knowing, that all is not lost. And that place where cancer is no more and never has been and never could be, will swim me to salvation, will pour into my heart like an endless weaving dream that has only to give. Ribbons and ribbons of healing water elixir, the wisdom of the first medicine, the womb medicine, the ocean of god, of goddess in an out pouring of river magic.  As long as this exists on the planet at this time, I know everything is going to be alright.  It already is. It can be no other way.