The Things We Carry

One of the things I've relearned this past 18 months is that I'm in control of what I choose to carry - and how long I choose to carry it. There's a vast amount of freedom in this knowledge (one of my favorite stories in this regard) - 

Two monks, going to a neighboring monastery, walked side by side in silence. They arrived at a river they had to cross. That season, waters were higher than usual. On the bank, a young woman was hesitating and asked the younger of the two monks for help. 

He exclaimed, 'Don't you see that I am a monk, that I took a vow of chastity?'

'I require nothing from you but simply to help me to cross the river,' replied the young woman.

'I...not...I can...do nothing for you,' said the embarrassed young monk, and he went on his way.

'It doesn't matter,' said the elderly monk. 'Climb on my back, and we will cross together.'

Having reached the other bank, the old monk put down the young woman who, in return, thanked him. She left and both monks continued on in silence. 

Close to the monastery, the young monk could not stand it anymore and said, 'You shouldn't have carried that person on your back. It's against our rules.'

The older monk looked at the younger with a loving, pitiful smile and said, 'Brother, I set her down on the other side of the river; you are still carrying her.'

Give Me a 'Re'

I need a friggin' break. There should be some redemption from going through surgeries, chemo, radiation, dry-heaving, aching, etc., etc. 

But there ISN'T! Moving forward is hard hard hard - where is the 'easy' "because you've been through such a hell"? I'm too tired to work hard to find me. Tired, loss, weight gain, aging - these should not be showing on me, my face. I'm not 're'covering - there's no 're' in this - no reason, no redemption, no rest, no release, no relief, no reward, no resolution, no resolve. 

I get it - it's going to take me a year before I begin to feel my new normal. But that's not fair - why am I the one to suffer the repercussions of cancer? I didn't break my leg skiing, twist my ankle running, tear a tendon lifting weights. Cancer found me - I wasn't doing anything that would invite cancer into my life. And here I am - where is the release, the reprieve? How can Cancer change everything? Why?

Pain - Peace

I have a friend who lives in pain, much of it from not taking care of herself. I think about my adult years, and I realize that much of the pain I was in was self-induced. One of the hardest things I have ever done was walk away from someone I loved, so that neither one of us were inflicting pain on each other, so that both of us could find peace. This wasn't a noble move - but one of survival, without doing this I'm afraid I would have imploded.

Cancer has given me plenty of time to look outside and inside of myself. Peace does come from within, and if there's anything I can control - it's me, nothing, no one else. There is peace in "surrendering to win," and "letting go and letting God." Handing control over really means maintaining control - because I am choosing to give up that control. The pain may still exist, yet choosing to not let the pain be in control is definitely a choice.

My friend, the one in pain, how does she learn to walk away from her own pain - physical and emotional? Can you walk away from yourself - to find peace? Can you walk deep inside of yourself to find it? What can I learn from my pain, from those things that trigger pain?


When I hurt my initial reaction is to react - to find someone/thing to fix me. Reality is this - medication works, but I work too. In my humble opinion, pain is outward, peace is inward.

Just sayin'. 

Loss and Laughter

Kevin Kling is an amazing man. He's not much to look at, but once he opens his mouth and makes you open yours in laughter, you no longer see what's wrong, but only what's right.

My family was first introduced to Kevin at the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival, the year after Cliff's (Jenna's husband) accident. We felt a connection - and he has endeared himself to us. He's been back to the Festival a few times, and I will not miss an occasion to listen to him (well, I did, at Christmas time, but only because I was so stinkin' chemo sick). Today's post is dedicated to Kevin. Kevin has taught me that "you can never judge another man's pain," among many other things. Take a moment and listen to him here.

Whew

A good week, a very good week. I've started venturing out into the wild - working on doing one thing a day outside of my exercise, cancer, work, nap, sleep routine of the past 6 months.

• I've been to lunch with a couple of friends. 
• I went to a cancer support group. 
• I shared with some folks beginning cancer treatment and laughed and smiled with some folks on the healing side of cancer treatment. I'm learning about my story by verbalizing my story.
• I haven't worn a hat all week, and today when I put one on, I quickly removed it - I think it's a trigger right now - makes me look like I have cancer. I'm going to wear my S&P proudly.
• I shaved my legs! First time in 6 months - not sure if that's a blessing, but at least this shows my body is healing. 
• I chaplained a little - good feeling to get out of myself and serve others. 
• I had a pedicure and a manicure. 
• I made arrangements to visit SoCal in a few weeks.
• I made a few mistakes, like trying on swimming suits - miserable idea, horrible results. But I did it! I bought a dress - quickly returned it. I tried to mall shop - didn't make it out of the car, I have eaten too many sweets.
• I'm thinking about tomorrow, not just about the next hour.
• I'm living in today - nice to have a present and a future.

These are all things that I didn't even have the energy to add to a regular day even a week ago. I don't want to stay holed-up, and I don't want to complicate my new life, but doing, along with the being, is feeling good.

Here's to a happy Friday and feelin' good weekend -

Wabi Sabi -

Colen Sweeten, Jr., a cowboy poet and dear friend, had on his business card, "You can still drink from a chipped cup." He passed away a few years ago; I wonder what he would have to say about the Wabi Sabi principle - seems he understood the phrase without knowing the term. 


Wabi Sabi means this - find beauty in the imperfections. Appreciate the simple, the pared-down basics. Find joy in the every day. Use what you have, need less, love more. Look for faults, you'll find them, look for beauty in those faults, and you will find more.


I haven't been out much in the past 6 months. I've been forced (awkward as that sounds) to find my joy in my simple surroundings (which includes admiring the paint job on my bedroom walls and watching the sun's rays migrate across the bed). My needs have been basic, my wants have been merely staying alive and healing, and my reliance on others has been for survival. 

Yesterday my internet went down - and it was finally fixed at 4:30 today. I've been a little stressed, my work requires my being on the computer several hours a day. I was irritated, angry, and then I paused (this routine happened more than once) - I saw this as time to clean up my 2012 files, sift through 2000 e-mails, do some work that required concentration and time away from my computer.
 
I like my simple uncomplicated way of life (and it can be pared down to basics, if I want). I want! I want to hold on to Wabi Sabi.

Finding What I Need

I spent some time on Saturday night with a friend. Her husband passed away 3 years ago; he is my age. As we talked about grieving, I mentioned my initial thoughts would be to reach out for support, but instead, I've been reaching in. She smiled and wholeheartedly agreed.

This is what I mean:
For the past several years I've been doubting - and usually when I doubt I do research and ask questions to find answers to my questions. I did this when I went through my pre-divorce stage, when I went through my seeking God stage, parenting, grandparenting, step-parenting stages - seeing what others have to say. And I've learned.

Then cancer - and my boob party, and my desire to be surrounded by folks who could help me with answers. I purchased, and was given, books, was sent website links, was told about alternative treatments, etc. And I love, love, love the support.

I've learned something about myself though, in all of this. And that is I've had to turn inward and find strength from within to make it day to day. The support I have has allowed me time to be pensive, reflective, hesitant.

I thought chemotherapy time would be a chance for me to read my scriptures, read about cancer and its treatments, read about chaplaincy and grief and healing. Yet I haven't read a lot of books, joined discussion groups, watched TV/movies. I haven't had a need. What I've learned, and my friend said the same thing, is, time and space for meditating and reflecting, sorting, sifting, organizing brings answers to questions.


With 6 weeks off and now beginning radiation, I'm coming to the realization that what I've been searching for, for so many many years, is deep inside me. I'm finding that. Being still is a lesson I'm learning. Turning inside, pulling myself up, searching my own psyche rather than the internet, has brought me peace, a time for reflecting, reflecting of the introspective type.

How often do any of us really take the time to stop and look inside? I believe we are "outsource" driven, looking for someone, something, somewhere, that we fail to realize the answer is inside.

I'm Ronda, I'm 54, I have breast cancer, and I'm learning to trust - me.