A friend recently said that I was going to “win this war.” I have received many notes regarding my “battle” with cancer. Although I understand what my friends mean, the use of war words to relate to my experience seems off to me.
I don’t see life as a battle. Perhaps that is why the idea of radio and chemo never attracted me. I couldn’t help thinking that chemo sounded like the War on Terror, where one says that in order to fight the terrorist cells we need to destroy many of the good cells as well.
I know that microscopically, inside the body,there is a whole thing going on of cells gobbling cells, and not everything is peaceful. But go even deeper in a cell (in the quantum field) and you will see space, intelligence, creativity and thought. Thought that can affect matter. And it is here in this space that I choose to dwell.
In this creative space I choose what I want to see and emanate. So, for instance, instead of picturing my T cells as a pack of wild hungry ferocious tigers eating up the cancer cells in a bloody mess, I prefer to see a flock of sweet yellow birds eating up the dark seeds (cancerous cells) and then flying away. It suits me better and it leaves less damage in its way.
In this empty space there is room for creative healing and the possibility of staying here among you, if that is God’s (and my Soul’s) plan. It is what I most wish. And if that happens, I will have been granted survival as a Grace and an act of love, not of battle and struggle. There is nothing easy about any of this, believe me, but there is nothing war-like about it either.
I am not fighting cancer. I am living with cancer, and God forbid I would choose to live inside a battle ground.
If, on the other hand, it is not my Soul’s plan to stay, in this space there would then be room for choosing acceptance, surrender and love. There would be room for forgiveness, understanding and love for myself and for all of you, beyond anything I have experienced before.
In a battlefield, if I were to die, there would be defeat. In this space of Grace, there would be release, rest, ascension.
So I call on the yellow birds and name my journey clearing cancer, rather than fighting it.
Or Dancing with Cancer, as Leigh put it. It just suits me better.
Many of you have asked about how you can support me in this journey. In January our friends started a fund (the Carrot Fund) to help pay for costs not covered by insurance. This got us through the first 3 months, but if you’d like to continue to make donations we are grateful.