Big Enough to Embrace it All!

As the side effects from chemo and radiation dissipate and leave my body, my peeling skin speaks to me. It says, ‘be patient, there is always more to let go of.’ While this ‘shedding’ is taking place, I tend to the skin that is drier than I’ve ever seen it, vulnerable to the releasing toxins in my body as I use the five different creams, oil, salves, and plant jelly that I have, alternating between them all.

I have been obsessing over my fingerpads and feet peeling. Just when I think I’ve pulled off all the dead skin, I awake in the morning only to find there is more to come off. I’m feeling like a snake molting away it’s top layer ready to be reborn, fresh and new. I look at the body as a metaphor for life. This is its’ voice. Words come in the form of feelings, images, physical postures and changes in outer appearances.

Eventually, this too shall pass and my fingers and hands will be whole again. Slowly, my body moves towards complete wholeness. I am always reminded this takes time.

A question that keeps forming in my awareness is: how big is your Compassion, Acceptance, Love?!

I’m in Ontario re-uniting with family and dear friends for the first phase of our Canadian Tour. A lot has happened this year in our family, along with my own life that I’ve been absorbed with. I’ve been consciously trying to find ways to remain open to all of the sudden changes in dear ones lives. I’m finding this is no easy task. How do I keep remaining positive and strong to keep myself going AND be able to digest what is happening for other people close to me. Life doesn’t stop because I need time to get well; it has a way of just moving forward like the rising and setting sun.

I remember when my Dad suddenly passed away in a canoe accident, I was in shock as I heard the words through the telephone line, (no mobiles back then) ‘your father was in an accident on the river and they found his body underwater stuck in a pile of logs.’ My mind went blank and all I heard was the calling of the loons on the lake. People had to tell me what to do next. I had just arrived in Ontario when this call came and was nursing our 3 month old son and tending to our 23 month old daughter. Quickly, it was decided that I leave with our son, Brendan and Geoff stays behind with Megin.

I was driven by the feeding needs of my young baby to stay present in the world. The sun became a constant support that I too had to rise with it each day and go to sleep at night with the moon. I too had to remain present in the world for my baby’s needs and this is what kept me functioning day to day. I was so overwhelmed with emotion.

I share this story because 23 years later it remains as clear as day to me and this image came to me after not thinking about it for years this morning as I write and try to find ways to embrace ALL that life brings each one of us.

When I found out that the main mass of my primary tumor had disappeared and I could now choose an alternative route to avoid surgery, I also found out that one of my brother in law’s was diagnosed with advanced pancreatic cancer. Two days later, another email confirmed his passing. Simply shocking. Just blew my mind wide open in disbelief.

How can I be with my elated joy and victory in a time of such deep sadness and loss? I felt guilty for feeling excited about my situation that was now looking even better than ever and trying to also have space for grief. This juxtaposition of seemingly opposing emotions was confusing, let alone messy as hell inside me. I wanted to be celebrating my ‘win’ along the healing journey and not have it overshadowed with such loss. I felt selfish. I didn’t share with too many friends about my brother in law because I knew my good news would quickly be forgotten and people would focus on the loss of a life.

I have been processing all of this on some level inside myself since this news came in March. Then in April, I received news from another close family friend of another health crisis. Recently, this news has turned out to be another cancer situation. In fact, since I was diagnosed with cancer, I have had three other friends who found themselves faced with cancer all living within a stone’s throw of me. This doesn’t include other connections I have with family and friends who are also now dealing with supporting their friends cancer journey. It is uncanny how when we are immersed in something ourselves, the Universe brings us others who are on similar paths. Is this now because I can handle it and I am not afraid of meeting illness in the face? My ability to find compassion has expanded?

What’s different for me now while I am in my own healing journey with cancer, is a strong desire to learn how to stay grounded in my internal rhythms as I reach out to support others through their times of grief and tragedy. Being able to manage this emotionally has pushed my self imposed boundaries into an expanded field of love on a spiritual level. Nothing I could have ever predicated. Life brings us the lessons when we’re ready to receive them.

Being in Ontario now, I am able to be with family in person and find new ground to sink into while acknowledging and being with all the immense changes that have taken place in such a short amount of time. Having the opportunity to be physically present with loved ones makes it all the easier to embrace the fullness that life brings each of us. We celebrate our love and deep connection for one another, knowing that as we move through each day we become a stronger person for opening our hearts to whatever life wants to bring forth today.

“to live in this world
you must be able
to do three things
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go”

- Mary Oliver