Living Joyfully With What Is

Welcome Summer at the UMass Sunwheel!

2010-06-30T18:33:00.001-07:00

Summer is here!

We celebrated the arrival of summer last week at the UMass Sunwheel on June 21st, the day of the Summer Solstice. The weather was perfect -- clear all day, with temperatures in the 60's for sunrise, and 80's at sunset. Even though the sunrise gathering was at the early hour of 5 a.m., there were 26 hearty souls present to see the Sun come up. And 148 visitors were present for sunset, making a total of 173 people at the Sunwheel for Summer Solstice 2010! The sunset crowd was a lively group, asking good questions, and keeping me busy until the mosquitos descended with the darkness. And thank you to my daughter for coming from Chicago to help me with the Sunwheel events.

A visitor named Michelle wrote, "Thanks so much for another great night at the Sunwheel! I have been to a few [gatherings] now, and always learn something new. Tonight I was especially touched by the sense of community I felt." A visitor from out of town commented, "It was a great learning experience to be there [at the Sunwheel] and listen to you and understand things in their right perspective. We enjoyed every moment of it. Life is full of interesting things. You have opened one more avenue to enjoy life. Thanks a lot for that."

To view the Picasa Web album of Summer Solstice photos taken at the Sunwheel, click here

I am happy to announce that The Sunwheel Project is now on Facebook and Twitter!

To keep up with Sunwheel events, news and exciting new developments on Facebook, visit and "Like" http://www.facebook.com/SunwheelProject

[This is distinct from the Facebook page "Friends of the Sunwheel",
which is under development.]

You can also follow the Sunwheel on Twitter, at http://twitter.com/SunwheelProject

So summer is really here. My garden shows the early summer flowers, with day lilies of many colors, shasta daisies, snakeroot, roses, chameleon plant, sweet peas, ligularia and spiderwort. Lots of lush green growth for the flowers yet to bloom. I am reminded to give thanks to Mother Earth every day for the abundance and support and beauty she offers!

Happy Summer!

A Birthday Celebration

2009-09-17T20:23:00.000-07:00

This week I celebrated my birthday, and it was quite a day.

I decided to go for a walk as part of my celebration. But not just any walk. I decided to go to one of my favorite Town of Amherst conservation areas to walk in the woods, instead of walking from home around the residential neighborhoods. And since I typically walk 1-2 miles per day, it seemed very reasonable to plan to complete a 1-mile loop at the conservation area only ~2 miles from home.

The day was beautiful and a bit cool, and since I planned to be gone for only ~45 minutes, I took only my camera and driver's license with me. As usual, there were no other cars present when I began the walk. The sign was new -- it said the loop was 0.83 miles, and it pointed to a break in the trees. So I began the walk, and to my surprise, what used to be a dirt road was overgrown with 1' tall grasses. Perhaps I should have taken a clue from that.

I had visited this conservation area in the winter -- on show shoes, I had tromped through the woods and made my way 3/4 of the way around the loop. And then the trail disappeared so I had to retrace my steps and give up on completing the loop. I returned a day later and walked the loop in reverse, finding my way through a mass of dead trees that fell from the maple blight, and locating the loop trail even where the trail had disappeared.

After this winter experience, on my birthday I planned to walk the loop in reverse again, expecting to be able to navigate through the fallen trees as easily as I had during the winter...

The first part of the walk was easy. I found the trail into the woods, and followed the blazes. And like my winter trek, when the trail emerged from the woods, the trail blazes disappeared since they were on the dead trees that had fallen. But I could see the general direction I needed to go in. So I continued walking. Well, it was sort of what you would call walking. But with all the rain we had this summer, the grass had grown over 4' tall. And these grasses were hiding fallen trees beneath.

Walking through the tall grass was kind of like slashing through the jungle, only I didn't have a tool to cut the grass with. Only my arms and legs. So I would lift my knees high to climb over the fallen trees, taking one slow step after another. And more often than not, it took 2 tries to place my foot on the ground around whatever trees were underfoot. I did wonder about snakes, but that was not my biggest worry. I didn't know where the trail was, or how long it would take me to find it. I didn't have any water with me. And my energy was starting to drain.

After 15 minutes of trying to make headway through the tall grass, I realized that I didn't want to turn around. Or that it was unlikely that I could retrace my steps even if I wanted to. And I realized that if the trail was this overgrown, I might never find it. I had visions of Humphrey Bogart in "The African Queen" pulling the boat through the jungle and slashing the grasses before him. Several times I walked into underbrush too dense to navigate through, so I headed into more open areas instead, where the grasses were taller but I could make headway. I kept hoping I would intersect with the loop trail which I had walked countless times.

And as in all memorable adventures, I came to the point where I decided that if I hadn't found the trail in 5 minutes, I would get out my cell phone and call for help -- I would ask the Fire Dept. to come rescue me. For I realized that I didn't have the strength to bush wack through the woods for the entire 1-mile loop, and I didn't have the strength to go back. I wasn't exactly lost -- I knew exactly where I was, I just wasn't exactly where I wanted to be.

So when the dragon fly flew by and circled around me, I asked it for help. I asked it to show me the way to the trail. And then it disappeared, so I kept walking. Legs trembling from exertion. Sweat dripping down my back. Face red from getting overheated and not having any water.

And then suddenly tall grasses were gone. The undergrowth was gone. And the canopy of trees overhead shaded an open space before me that was like a breath of fresh air. I was standing on the trail. Even though I didn't have water, I felt as overjoyed as if I had been in the desert and had found an oasis to drink from.

I had spent 45 minutes to go ~1/3 of the way around the loop, and I might have stopped to rest had it not been for the mosquitoes. Oh, and did I mention the poison ivy? I noticed it when I was in the open places, and I had no idea if I had been walking through poison ivy vines as I trudged through the tall grasses. So I didn't dawdle, but walked with purpose to complete the loop trail. In another 20 minutes, I was back at my car. Then in another 5 minutes I was home, and went directly to the shower.

It was quite the birthday walk. In the jungle, only 2 miles from my house. An unforgettable adventure. And I didn't need to get rescued after all. But I did say to myself, after that adventure, that I really like walking around the residential neighborhoods.

There is Nothing Like Getting Better

2009-08-16T19:50:00.000-07:00

I realized yesterday that it had been a long time since I had written on this blog, and that is really wonderful. It means that I am getting better -- I have been spending my time simply living, instead of writing about it.

As I recover my strength and ability to travel, I have gone somewhere almost every month since the beginning of 2009. Some of the trips were to visit family, some were vacations, and some were for professional conferences or to give lectures. I was thrilled to have the opportunity to go to Kitt Peak National Observatory near Tucson, Arizona in March to use the telescopes there to observe galaxies in the Virgo Cluster. That was a spectacular trip! And I went to an international conference on galaxies in June, and gave an invited talk.

And now I am having the time of my life, getting ready to go to Montana where I will lead a retreat on "Astronomy, Spirituality, and the Mayan Prophecy". I am very excited and full of joy as I prepare. I have attended many residential retreats in the past 17 years, but never led one, so I am pulling together the best of all that I have experienced, in combination with my passion for teaching astronomy outside, and creating a unique event in the history of the Universe. Everything in my life that has occurred until now has helped prepare me for this retreat.

And still parts of my days are involved with caring for my body, that temple in which my spirit resides and upon which I depend as my vehicle in this life. I have learned many things in my healing journey that I will apply during the upcoming retreat:

1) It is essential for me to take my time and enjoy the process of life, with all the in-between moments, and not just the destination.
2) It is essential for me to rest when I need, to honor the needs of my body over the desires of my spirit or the needs of others.
3) It is essential to laugh and play.
4) It is essential to be silly and not take myself too seriously.
5) Packing lightly is just not something I do! But it doesn't matter either. I will just ask for help in lifting my suitcase!!!

The Summer Garden Draws in a Special Visitor

2009-07-10T17:23:00.000-07:00

This has been a week for visits from special winged friends.

At the beginning of the week, the first brilliant red bud of lobelia (cardinal flower) opened. As with foxglove plants, the buds open first at the bottom and them blossom up to the top of the flower stalk. Then I counted a total of 75 stalks of cardinal flower in my garden this year, all with buds which will open later in July.

When the first cardinal flower bud opened this week, I recalled how last summer a hummingbird zipped through the garden as I gazed, and that was the first hummingbird I saw in the garden last year. But I had seen no hummingbirds here this year.

The first hummingbird I saw this year was in April when I visited the Desert Museum near Tucson, and a hummingbird greeted me as I walked to the first overlook. It was not focusing on any particular plant, but rather it hovered in front of me moving horizontally and then vertically, and it really seemed to be welcoming me.

Then the second hummingbird was in Washington D.C. where I went for Mother's Day. I was getting ready to plant the white trillium flower that I had brought from my garden for my mother, and as I prepared to dig a hole in the ground, a hummingbird came and hovered at the very spot I was selecting for the trillium. I was thrilled!

That was it, 2 hummingbirds in 2009.

Then yesterday as I sat resting on the front porch in the late afternoon, a hummingbird took me by surprise and flew into the front yard, hovering near the deep red day lilies. It then flew to the white foxglove flowers, followed by the very fragrant star-gazer lilies, and finally to the yellow rudbeckia (black-eyed Susans). I was so focused that time seemed to slow down, but all of this must have taken less than 20-30 seconds. So I was a bit dumbstruck when the hummingbird stopped to rest on a branch of the 20' tall rhododendron 'bush'. Here it sat for another 20-30 seconds, and then zipped off when I moved to get a closer view.

So now I have seen 3 hummingbirds this year, and am sure to see more as the cardinal flower opens. I'm ready!!

"Immortality" Bloomed Today!

2009-05-22T18:55:00.000-07:00

The first thing I did when I got out of bed this morning was to look out the front window, and sure enough, 'Immortality' was blooming!!

Maybe you didn't know that Immortality can bloom. Well guess what -- it can.

Two years ago, in the spring of 2007, I purchased from White Flower Farm a collection of re-blooming bearded iris, consisting of 6 varieties of the flower. I planted them and then waited. They didn't bloom once the first year, let alone twice, and I realized they didn't have quite enough Sun, and that the soil was probably to acidic. So I moved the iris to a different spot, put lime in the soil in the fall and spring, and another year went by and still they didn't bloom.

I decided to create a new garden in my yard in a sunny spot that appeared recently when a neighbor lost a tree in her yard. I moved the re-blooming iris to this new garden, added lots of lime to the soil, and called White Flower Farm for advice.

The advice I was given was to fertilize the soil around the iris with a 10-10-10 fertilizer before and after each flowering episode, in the early spring, mid-summer, and late fall. And I was also told it could take up to 2 years for the iris to flower after moving them.

So I was prepared to wait another 2 years before seeing a flower...

Imagine my surprise and delight when a flower stalk appeared on one of the re-blooming iris plants 10 days ago! And then another flower stalk appeared!! Yesterday I counted 6 iris stems with buds preparing to bloom this spring -- 2 of the new re-blooming plants, and 4 from varieties that I already had but that rarely bloomed.

And that brings me back to this morning, when I got out of bed and looked out the front window. Yes, there it was -- 'Immortality' was blooming. Immortality is one of the varieties of re-blooming iris in the front garden, and I find it hysterical that Immortality is the first variety to bloom. 'Immortality' is calling. 'Immortality' has my full attention. With a cup to tea in hand, I went outside to smell the flower. It was heavenly.

So 'Immortality' bloomed today. And the fact is that I ascribe to the belief that the soul returns to Earth numerous times from one lifetime to the next, and that it is in fact 'immortal'. So not only am I thrilled that one of my re-blooming iris is blooming for the first time, but the metaphor of 'immortality' making a grand entrance and presenting itself in my life is not lost on me.

Why Is This Spring Different From All Other Springs?

2009-04-30T17:54:00.000-07:00

I don't know why, but there are some things I have noticed this spring in the garden that are very unusual.

First, I have some lily of the valley, and usually only about 1 in 10 plants has a flower. Still, with over 1000 plants in the garden, I have many, many flowers. And yet this year, almost every plant has a flower. To top it off, today I even saw some flowers stems without any leaf. Just the flower!

Then there are the foxglove. Every fall I spread foxglove (digitalis) seeds from the flowers that bloomed the previous summer, and I did so last fall. What I am noticing now is that the ground is literally covered with a carpet of tiny green plants. Many more than usual of the foxglove seeds have germinated and are producing the beginnings of foxglove plants. There must be 10's of thousands of baby foxglove plants.

And more daffodils bloomed this year than any of the past 5 years, and the Jack-in-the-Pulpits are abundant as well. The garden is gorgeous, even though we had some very hot days that killed off the tulips.

So I am wondering if the climate -- a late warm fall & very cold winter -- is conducive to the flowering and growth of the plants. Or maybe it is something else. Maybe it really worked to fertilize the garden early this spring with the 10-10-10 fertilizer!!!

And even though I don't know the exact reason why the gardens are doing so well this year, you can bet that I will continue to fertilize.

Celebrating the Earth

2009-04-20T11:22:00.001-07:00

As the weather gets warmer and spring flowers are blooming, I especially enjoy walking around my neighborhood to see all the lovely gardens. And since every physical therapist I speak to tells me to walk every day, even if it is just for 15 minutes, I make a point to go for walks between 30-45 minutes when my strength allows.

Yesterday was a gorgeous sunny day, with temperatures over 60 degrees around 10 in the morning. So I did my warm-up exercises, put on my walking shoes and headed out the front door.

I chose a route that took me past my favorite gardens so I could see what was blooming and what was just sprouting out of the ground. I saw tulips and daffodils and hyacinths blooming, pink and white magnolia trees flowering, and a large cherry blossom tree in bloom that I had never seen blooming before. There was an audible sound of bees buzzing at the cherry blossom tree, and I stood to look at the beauty and listen to the bees when I passed by.

Also on my walk I saw a fair amount of random trash. A plastic bag here, a bottle there, a cup here, a can there. Most yards were mostly clean, but near the curb there were bits of garbage and trash everywhere I walked.

So when I got home, I made a decision. Since Earth Day is coming, I would give a present to the Earth (and myself and my neighbors) and clean up the neighborhood. I got 2 large plastic bags, my picker-upper tool, and I retraced my walk AGAIN, this time picking up trash. What usually took 30 minutes without stopping became a 90 minute walk as I stopped to pick up every piece of plastic, paper, or metal trash along my route. I filled one bag with trash, and the other bag with recyclables -- mostly plastic cans, bottles, & cups. And before I got home, the bags were full and so heavy that I had to stop before I finished cleaning up along the last street.

So today when it was time to take my walk, I went in reverse to complete the trash collection. And I received several unexpected gifts.

First, when I passed a yard where a woman was gardening, she saw what I was doing and said, "Bless your heart." That felt nice, to be blessed. Someone else had blessed me yesterday as I started out on my mission -- a rabbi from down the street drove past me with my bags and my picker-upper tool and said, "God bless you."

Then on my return today, as I walked down the street that I had just cleaned of bits of trash, the same woman who had said 'Bless your heart' handed me a bunch of daffodils from her garden and said, "Thank you for cleaning up the neighborhood." I answered with, "Oh, this is so sweet. You are welcome." I had wanted to give the Earth and the neighborhood a present for Earth Day, and I received some of the bounty of the Earth in return.

In actuality, I prefer to think that every day is Earth Day, rather than one day a year, and I express my gratitude every day for what the Earth offers us. It was wonderful to receive the gifts of words and flowers. I didn't expect them, and I didn't need them, but they were wonderful gifts and acknowledgments from the Universe that when we give of ourselves, we also receive.

The Reds Have Arrived

2009-04-17T19:52:00.000-07:00

Spring is here and the reds have arrived!

The red trillium plants are growing in the woodlands.
The maple sap is running (and dripping) and the red maple trees are showing a red glow at the tips of their branches.
The cardinals are happily singing in the trees.

In the sunny spots, the crocus are blooming in whites, yellows, purples and stripes; the anenome are fully opened; the daffodils, hyacinths, and tulips are beginning to blossom; the forsythia and mucronolatum azalea have just opened; the wood poppy and bleeding heart are showing many buds; the magnolia and peach trees are covered with buds.

In the shady places, the plants and flowers are beginning to appear. I can see the tips of many Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants starting to peep out of the ground. Today I counted 116 red trillium buds and 23 white trillium buds, with more plants that have yet to uncurl their leaves; also 14 dog-tooth violets; 4 flowering shoots of 'Dutchman's Breeches' which haven't bloomed for 2 years; 7 bloodroot flowers; 25 columbine plants, and a similar number of cardinal flower plants.

Now about that bloodroot. I wrote last year (on my 3rd blog entry in May 2008) about the sudden disappearance of the bloodroot from my garden. And in the area where it disappeared, where there were over 50 plants just 2 years ago, there are still NO SIGNS of the plant at all. And yet, across the yard near my trillium there have always been a few bloodroot plants (including last year), and this year there are 7 beautiful white, daisy-like flowers.

The sky has been blue all week, the grasses are greening, and the reds have arrived. It is a symphony of color, all to celebrate the arrival of spring.

Multiple Myeloma Treatment -- Saying Emphatic 'NO' to a Double Bone Marrow Transplant

2009-04-11T22:06:00.001-07:00

One thing I do know is that doctors don't know everything. A good doctor will admit this. Some doctors like to think they do know everything, including what will happen to you if you do this or that, or don't do this or that. And yet, they cannot predict the outcome of a particular treatment for a disease, or specify a prognosis for an individual other than statistically.

So when the doctors in Arkansas at the Myeloma Institute for Research and Therapy recommended last May that I undergo a double bone marrow transplant, I asked why. They told me the only way I would be cured was if I got a double bone marrow transplant. And yet, on further questioning, it turned out that not all patients who underwent the double bone marrow transplant that they specialize in was actually cured. I did ask what the mortality rate for the transplant was, and I was told by the doctor that is was 1%. But when I went home to read the literature they provided, I learned that I hadn't been told the whole story.

Yes, the mortality rate for the bone marrow transplant is 1%, if one is talking only about that piece of the procedure. But the overall procedure includes first killing all of the bone marrow with heavy duty chemo, and the mortality rate for that was given as 4%. Then 1% for the transplant. And then they did the procedure again, with chemo, for which there was a 3% mortality on the second try (for the people who got that far). So given all of these percentages (based on 2005 data), the overall mortality rate for the double bone marrow transplant procedure is 8%.

So then I asked the doctor, "Why would I elect a procedure that would have a 1 in 12 chance of killing me, especially when there is no guarantee of a cure?" The doctor answered by telling me that the statistics are much better now, 3 years later, with an overall mortality from the procedure of 3% rather than the 8% quoted in the literature. And I still say -- "OK, with a procedure that has a 1 in 33 chance of killing me, why would I elect to do it?"

There are no guarantees in life, except that life will end. We like to think that we are immortal, and doctors like to think that they have the power to give life, but they are not in charge. They are certainly not in charge of me.

Part of learning whether a double bone marrow transplant is truly helpful to patients should involve following a sample of people who elect the procedure, and comparing them with a sample of people who do not. But when my mother asked the question, "What about the people who did not have the double bone marrow transplant -- how long did they live?", the doctor answered that there was no current data on these people. While the doctors could show that people who survived the double bone marrow transplant would live longer than myeloma patients used to live without the transplant, the doctors couldn't tell me how patients fare these days with newer treatments other than the bone marrow transplant.

In my own oncologist's words, a double bone marrow transplant is overkill. "If you survive the procedure, you will live longer." And I say, "Longer than what?" Certainly longer than if I were to die from the procedure. It's not like I can clone myself and find out what would happen if I do this, or what would happen if I do that. I must choose a course that I am comfortable with. Not the course that a particular doctor wants, because a doctor does not have to live with the consequences of my choice. I do. And I was told that it would take about 6 months for the overall double bone marrow transplant procedure, and then about 1 year for the body to recover. For the people who live through it.

And right now, at this time in my life, I choose quality of life in the present moment. I am face to face with my mortality. I know I will not live forever. None of us know what will claim our life, or when our last breath will be. Just that it will be.

And I will forgo the chemicals and creating a battle ground inside my body. For I choose to live in peace. Loving all of myself. Accepting that which I face. Not being afraid of it, or of what life has to offer. And I have never been so happy, so clear, so at peace and at ease with my life and my choices as I am now. For I know that I am always at choice to make a new choice, for I am the one who is creating my life.

Grateful for the Gifts of Spring

2009-03-22T07:27:00.000-07:00

Welcome spring!

This week we have not only transitioned to spring (in the northern hemisphere) in an astronomical sense, with the passing of the Vernal Equinox, but weather-wise we have moved out of winter. What had been a snow-covered yard is now bare of the white stuff, and showing evidence of sprouting green things all over the place. The ground is mostly brown, but the gardens are full of buds of day lilies, daffodils, crocus, lily of the valley, red trillium, and more things that I can never remember the names of. Within the next few weeks, I will see an explosion of color and blossoming all around me.

But even before the snow melted, the gallanthum (common name 'snow drops') were blooming through the snow. Back around March 8, just 2 weeks ago, there were over 30 gallanthum flowers blooming in my yard, and 2 days ago I counted 77. A few of the purple crocus that are in a sunny spot have also opened, although the squirrels must be hungry because they nibbled on a few blossoms to taste the fresh flowers.

When spring arrives, I am grateful for so many things! I am grateful for the warmth of the Sun, I am grateful for the melting of the snow, I am grateful for the blooming of the flowers, I am grateful for gardens to nurture, and I am especially grateful for my increasing health and strength.

And I am also grateful for the crowds of visitors who joined me at the Sunwheel for sunrise and sunset on the Equinox to witness the passing of the seasons. For the first time in 2 years, I was able to lead 2 days of sunrise and sunset gatherings for the public at the Sunwheel, and over that time there were over 160 people who attended the Sunwheel events. So my body has healed sufficiently that I have the strength and energy to do what I love. We saw the Earth's shadow setting before sunrise on March 20 and 21, and both days we also saw the sunrise, we saw geese flying, we saw the sunset, we saw the Earth's shadow rising after sunset, and we saw beautiful colors in the sky caused by thin clouds dancing above us. The Universe put on a show which we were able to witness.

This year, 2009, is the International Year of Astronomy (IYA), and as one of the many IYA activities available to the public, I will be producing podcasts on each of the equinoxes and solstices to teach about the characteristics of that day. The March Equinox podcast aired yesterday, on March 21, and you can access it through the "365 Days of Astronomy" website, and then scroll down to the date March 21. Just after the title of my podcast "March 21 -- The March Equinox: All Latitudes Are Illuminated", you can follow the link labeled "Listen using our podcast player". To get to the website, follow this link.

Life is definitely a roller coaster, and full of lessons and gifts every day. My days are full, as I focus on caring for my health, observing the flowering of my gardens and the astronomical dance of the Universe. My prayer is that I be at ease with what I face, trust the Universe and have faith that all is well, and that is my prayer for you as well. Happy spring!

Guidance from the Universe

2009-02-20T13:09:00.002-08:00

Have you ever sought guidance from the Universe using Runes? I have been using them for a dozen years or so, and they are wonderful. A set of 25 Runes, with an accompanying book describing the significance of each one. We are told that consulting the oracle of the Runes is equivalent to consulting the oracle of the Self.

So this past month I have picked Runes, about once each week. The first Rune I picked, while asking in my mind the question, "What guidance was most helpful to me in my life right now?", was the Rune Dagaz -- the Rune of Transformation, Breakthrough, and Day. Then the next week I picked another Rune -- putting my hand inside the bag and focusing on the same question. And this time I picked .... the same Rune, Dagaz, the Rune of Transformation & Breakthrough. That was remarkable, and it doesn't happen often, but it has happened before.

From the Book of Runes, this indicates the following:
-- Dagaz signifies a breakthrough in the process of self-change, a transformation in attitude;
-- the timing is right, so the outcome is assured, although not from this vantage point, predictable;
-- in every life there comes at least one moment which, if recognized and seized, transforms that life forever;
-- rely on radical trust, even if that means leaping empty-handed into the void;
-- with this Rune, one's warrior nature reveals itself;
-- a major period of achievement and prosperity is often introduced by this Rune, the darkness is behind & daylight has come;
-- considerable hard work is involved in a time of transformation, so undertake to do it joyfully.

This seemed like a wonderful message for me, especially the part about undertaking the work of transformation joyfully, and relying on radical trust.

Then 2 nights ago I picked another Rune, again asking the Universe what message would be most helpful for me to hear at this time. I sat in contemplation, opened the bag of Runes, put my hand in, and randomly selected a Rune from the center of the pile. I opened my eyes, and when I saw the Rune I had picked, I burst out laughing. It was ... you guessed it, Dagaz again -- the Rune of Transformation, Breakthrough, and Day.

It is at times like these that I am grateful for being on a conscious spiritual journey. It was tremendous fun to realize that the guidance I am getting from the Runes not only helps me, but brings joy to my days. I wonder what Rune I will pick next?

For right now, anyway, I don't need any more guidance. I get the message. I will undertake the work of transformation joyfully. And trust the Universe.

Today's Guidance

2009-02-17T17:45:00.000-08:00

As I sat in meditation today, in my mind I asked for guidance in my life, and then I listened.

This is what I heard:

1) Let go of fear.
2) Claim courage to act and be -- in spite of all challenges.
3) Be inspired by the energy of the challenges.
4) Express gratitude and love every day.
5) Pray every hour.
6) Enjoy life every minute.

And so I was reminded that 'e-motion' is energy in motion. And whatever emotion I feel, I can channel that energy for my highest good.

Advice to Myself for Challenging Times

2009-02-15T17:56:00.000-08:00

As my spine heals from collapsing due to multiple myeloma, and as my body gains strength from activity, I am growing emotionally stronger as well. And having asked the Universe that my life lessons no longer come through my body, I find that the Universe has granted my request. Yet, I still face some very challenging situations. I am grateful that these situations do not include severe physical pain or limitation of physical activity or the malfunctioning of various bodily systems, and yet these situations cause a great deal of stress, and I feel their impact on my well-being.

So after I did my physical therapy this morning and got out of bed and had my delicious cup of Earl Grey tea, I started to give myself some suggestions as to how to face the challenging situations before me. And after the first 3 things I told myself, I decided to write it all down. I called the list "Advice to Myself for Challenging Times". Here is the list.

1) Speak your truth.
2) Be guided by actions unattached to outcomes.
3) Live in the present moment.
4) Let go of the need to convince anyone of anything.
5) Look around -- express gratitude, see beauty, & feel ease, calm, peace & love.
6) Pray and ask for help.
7) Trust the Universe. Have faith -- that all is as it should be.
8) Let ease be the container within which you live your days.
9) Follow your heart's passion.
10) Meditate -- be still -- and release what no longer serves you.

So during the in between times, when the challenges loom large over me, I read this list to myself and I feel better. I feel stronger. I pray for courage and strength. And I feel joy. And I know, deep down inside, that I am loved, that I am blessed, and that I am grateful to be alive.

A New Perspective

2009-02-10T05:47:00.000-08:00

Last Friday night, I was preparing to give a power point talk on the Sunwheel at the first session of the weekend program I led on "Astronomy, Spirituality & the Mayan Prophecy" at the Rowe Camp and Conference Center. I had tested the digital projector in advance, and everything seemed to be in working order.

So I powered up my computer and the projector, and began my introduction to the talk. I was explaining that back in 1992, I went to a 2-week long camp for women led by Brooke Medicine Eagle in western Montana, and there I found a Sunwheel on former Blackfeet Indian territory. And as I spoke, the digital projector went blank and the screen became dark. "Oh no!" I cried. So I kept talking, and fiddled with the projector at the same time, hoping the images would return. As I spoke, I went on to explain that back in 1992 I was active as a research scientist, yet I knew there was more to the Universe than meets the eye. I wanted to experience the larger picture -- that part of the Universe that science cannot explain -- so I was headed for a vision quest during this 2-week long camp. And as I said this to the group last Friday night, the picture returned on the digital projector -- but this time it was upside down! "Oh no -- I've never seen this before!" I cried.

Now, as I faced this inverted picture, I knew it was slightly better than a blank screen, but was still not going to work for giving my talk. And for a fleeting second I noted to myself that the Universe was playing with me -- showing me that there is more to the Universe than meets the eye, and that sometimes it can even be upside down! Here before my eyes was a shining example of something science cannot explain, which was exactly what I went on my vision quest to experience. And I kept speaking, and Gene turned off the projector and turned it back on again -- and the picture was fine.

For the rest of the evening, and for the rest of the weekend, there were no other problems with the digital projector. Just during my introduction that first evening. I will never forget seeing the image of my power point slides upside down. I did jokingly attempt to turn my computer upside down, hoping it would re-invert the image. And for whatever reason it temporarily misfired, I am grateful that the projector ultimately worked. After all, I had a lot of beautiful pictures to show the group. And I will never forget the sense that I was experiencing the magical, even for just a moment, when my words about why I was headed off for a vision quest were matched with a never-before-seen upside down picture on my computer.

But there was a lesson in it, also. Humor is an important teacher, like having images upside down. And even though I rely on the computer in my talks, I would have been able to survive without it.

And in seeing the pictures upside down, we were being given a unique perspective. After all, sometimes it takes a new perspective for us to get the whole picture.

Rave Reviews!

2009-02-09T20:44:00.000-08:00

Well, I am just back from Rowe Camp and Conference Center, after presenting a weekend workshop on "Astronomy, Spirituality & the Mayan Prophecy," and it was wonderful. I taught about Sunwheels, the Mayan calendar system, Mayan numbers and writing, the Sun & Moon & stars, along with my favorite spiritual teachings and wisdom. Those in my workshop were a set of very special people, and the group was a wonderful size (11 in all) -- big enough for good discussions, for a wide variety of questions and for feeling that my effort was appreciated, and small enough that every person had a chance to speak and be heard.

Here is what the participants wrote in their evaluations:
"I found the Astronomy, Spirituality and the Mayan Prophecy seminar to be utterly fascinating, fun, and enlightening. The science was clear and well defined and blended nicely with human aspects of spirituality. Judy Young was enthusiastic in her penetration of the mystery of the Mayan calendar and presented the material to us in a clear and wonderful way. Judy was very accessible to the class with answering our questions. She created a sense of community and camaraderie in the group. The seminar was well paced and energetic. Thank you so much, Judy. I really enjoyed meeting you. I had been looking forward to this for many years." (Richard M.)

"This has been a wonderful workshop, very love based (in contrast to what seemed to be a fear based one going on at the same time). I appreciated learning more about astronomy which I have never understood at all. I love the various ways to access guidance and the knowledge from many teachers and paths. Fascinating to learn of the Mayan number and astronomical systems."

"Thank you kindly for your invigorating workshop. I found it intellectual and soulful. You were professional, grounded, fun, energetic, knowledgeable, and peaceful. I am leaving with new knowledge, positive action and balanced joyfulness." (Kristie K.)

"This program was great. It fulfilled the hopes and expectations I had for it. I am very interested in spirituality, the Mayan prophecy for 2012, and stone circles. Thank you, Judy. I appreciate your teaching and your excellent, calm, but passionate, teaching style." (Carolyn J.)

"Another outstanding program from a wise and knowledgeable teacher. Thank you, Judy." (Gene S.)

"Your astronomy classes must be awesome. You made the astronomy come alive. Things I knew sort of from books I now understand in my being, and have a new excitement about looking at the stars."

"This workshop has opened me up to the beauty that is in and around me."

"Judy’s delivery was superb. A highly recommended experience. She knows her stuff. As a scientist, she is so serious in combining her spiritual knowledge with the scientific, she is truly an inspiration." (Kettler C.)

After a weekend of teaching, I am now exhausted. But I did it! I took care of my back, rested when I needed, and was able to enjoy and even thrive during the weekend. I consider it a great achievement to have maintained the strength and health of body necessary to lead such a workshop. And because of this success, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for my healing and a feeling of excitement over knowing I will be leading other workshops in the future.

One participant had chosen my workshop over attending a program elsewhere with Starhawk, so at the conclusion of the weekend I asked her if she was happy with her choice. Her response was, "Off the charts, baby!"

Astronomy, Spirituality, and the Mayan Prophecy

2009-02-02T06:46:00.001-08:00

I am so excited -- I am preparing to lead a retreat this coming weekend at the Rowe Camp and Conference Center on "Astronomy, Spirituality & the Mayan Prophecy". I led a weekend retreat here 2+ years ago, so the experience is not entirely new, but the subject matter is expanded and I am creating something that I have never done before. I do not know where this adventure will take me -- combining astronomy and spirituality and leading retreats around the world -- but I am filled with excitement over the newness, the potential, and the sharing in small groups of subjects that are dear to my heart.

I have even been contacted by people from across the ocean who are interested in these retreats! I have planned another weekend retreat here in at the end of May, and a 5-day retreat at the end of the summer in Montana, "Astronomy, Spirituality, and the Mayan Prophecy: Living the Sacred" .

I am working hard -- collecting materials, creating the plan for how I will present the complex astronomy and interweave meditation and discussion, learning about the Mayan calendar, and the truth about Dec. 21, 2102. I am loving the learning and creating. If you are intrigued by the topic and interested in attending, check out my calendar to find out when and where the next retreats will be.

I also know that leading the retreat will be a challenge physically -- to honor my need for rest and self care. Luckily, each meeting will include meditation, sharing, and food for the soul, along with the astronomy. So even if I am tired, I will become rested and energized.

I am very excited about the upcoming retreat. This will be a weekend to remember!

Thoughts on the Economy from a Revolutionary

2009-02-01T13:58:00.000-08:00

Well, here are my thoughts on the economy.

Most people I know have been touched by the economy -- some deeply and radically, some less so -- and I expect the same is true for you. The problems are serious, and I know they will take time and thoughtful action to repair.

I have never thought much about the economy, but I am thinking about it now. And it is clear to me that there is fallacy in the notion that the economy could continue to grow, year after year, when much of the profit is based on a finite Earth with finite resources. What we really want is to create an economy based on sustainable practices in a society which lives sustainably within the available resources.

That means using energy from the Sun -- not drilling and exploring and mining. Those practices are not sustainable, not good for the environment, and not good for our health in terms of the byproducts of using oil, coal, and gas.

In fact, just 2 days ago Exxon Mobile reported record profits of $45 billion for 2008. In October, they had also reported record profits for the 3rd quarter of 2008 of $14 billion, with income in that period of $137 billion dollars. The $45 billion profit in 2008 is higher than the previous record of profit for 1 year (their frcord of $40 billion for 2007). These numbers are profit, mind you, not income. They have already paid all the employees, paid all the bills, paid for all the equipment they want to buy, all the exploration they engage in, and that was up in 2008 as well.

I say they should be taxed heavily. Like a windfall profits tax of 99%. After all, I get taxed on my income -- my income, not profit -- so why shouldn't they? Why should they be allowed to continue their practices that harm the environment? The environment that we all live in, breath the air in, drink the water in.

After all, corporations do not have a natural right to exist. They have a legal right to exist, granted by states when corporations incorporate. That right to incorporate is not guaranteed. Imagine insisting that corporations act in the public good and the good of the environment in order to exist.

Maybe it's time for us as a people to consider whether we want companies which exploit the environment to continue to exist. After all, do record profits at a time of economic disaster reflect the public good, or public exploitation?

The Amherst campus of the University of Massachusetts is short $45 million dollars for the current fiscal year, and I know similar disastrous situations are present at other universities as well. I do not know the resolution of these difficulties, but I do know that record oil company profits at the same time just do not fit into the same reality.

I repeat -- I believe we need to tax the oil company profits heavily. After all, they will go a long way to providing the funds for the economic recovery in the US.

The Unexpected Gift

2009-01-09T18:47:00.000-08:00

I have always loved surprise gifts. And I especially love the ones that sneak up on me and take me unawares. Like the unexpected gift I got this holiday time...

I was in Maine visiting my daughter's in-laws for the holidays, along with my daughter and her husband of 1 year. Knowing I would be without my reclining lift chair for 5 days, I decided to take my traveling air mattress with me so I could lie on the floor to rest my back during the day. And that turned out to be a wonderful choice.

But I also discovered something wonderful. In the mornings when I set out to do my physical therapy exercises, I decided to lie on the air mattress and try some of my former yoga routine that I used to do lying on the floor. With the air mattress under me, my back was comfortable enough, and it was actually possible to move my body in ways that I haven't been able to in well over a year. And it felt so good to stretch my arms, my legs, my back. Reaching this way, moving that way.

When I returned home, on the morning of New Year's eve day, I carefully put my yoga mat on the floor and added a soft blanket on top for padding. Then I got onto the floor and spent 45 minutes going through my old yoga routine. Moving from one pose to another took a little thought after so many months -- 18 months in fact -- of not doing yoga. But it came back very easily, the recollection of what to do. And in the moving, my heart went to a place of such gratitude that I spent much of the time wiping the tears from my eyes. And stretching gently. It felt SO good.

Since returning home before the New Year, I have continued with morning yoga on a padded mat. This has given me the benefit of adding a gentle stretching routine to my daily physical activity, and also giving my back more time in the horizontal position in the late morning. After all, 2 years ago one physical therapist suggested that I spend 15 minutes in the morning and evening lying on my back on the floor with knees bent, in an exercise she called "decompression". It has taken me until now to take her advice. Better late than never.

So this was the unexpected gift, the return of my yoga practice at the start of the New Year. All it took was a trip to Maine, a padded yoga mat, and 18 months of healing from a collapsed spine. My muscular flexibility, or lack of it, is another thing entirely. But being the eternal optimist that I am, I know that my healing will continue and that some day I will be touching my toes and doing Sun salutations!!!

Excited About the New Year

2009-01-01T18:33:00.001-08:00

I love celebrations -- be they birthday, holiday, New Year's, anniversary. My ritual on New Year's Eve for many years has been to take inventory, month by month through the past year, and recall the highlights which made that year unique and special. This process helps remind me of all the wonders that have come my way, and of all that I have to be grateful for as the new year begins.

And as the year 2009 begins to unfold, I feel enormously positive and hopeful. And it's not just because of the changing political situation that will occur when President Obama is sworn in on Inauguration Day. Positivity and hopefulness are qualities that I display in general, and now they are enhanced due to the fact that I am much stronger than I was 1 year ago. Yes, I am healing.

One year ago at the beginning of 2008, I was still on chemo, I had just stopped using a walker when I was indoors, and I was just beginning to be able to get any regular exercise through walking or bending my body. Also, one year ago I developed vertigo while taking Revlimid to treat the myeloma (and that condition -- of getting dizzy when lying down and also when sitting up -- stayed with me through October 2008).

My condition now is very different. I can stand up straight with ease. No dizziness. I can bend forward and sideways. I can open the refrigerator (good thing, too, because I love ice cream). Last week I went snowshoeing in the woods for an hour, for the first time since my spine collapsed. And I can lie on the floor and lift my legs. I can do some parts of yoga poses. Most of this was impossible 1 year ago.

There has been so much improvement in my condition since 1 year ago, that I am certain that in the coming year I will see even more. And THAT is something that I will continue to celebrate for the rest of my life.

A Winter Solstice Story

2008-12-23T21:56:00.001-08:00

Preface: What would people have noticed in the sky at the time of winter solstice, say 10,000 years ago at mid-northern latitudes? Shortest days, longest nights, the cold, longest noon-time shadows of the year, southernmost sunrise, and southernmost sunset. And what would they have thought about it? Well, here's that story, her story...

Ah, I hear the sounds of Day, people starting to move and shuffle -- it must be getting close to when I will rise from this warm cocoon. It's sooooo cozy in here. Hard to leave. But can't help it -- need to pee. Bladder's full to bursting. Can't wait any more. Need to go out of the cave -- I'll make it fast. Very smoky in here though. Fresh air would be nice, anyway...

Cold outside -- brrr -- chills me to the bone. And just getting light. At least I can see where I'm going. Don't want to trip over all these rocks. And slippery, with water dripping and ice all over everything. Icicles!! I love icicles. And looking up, it's SO beautiful -- sky colors, clouds, beginning of the new Day. Makes me stop, even in the cold, to gaze at the dawn sky. Really stop. Can't forget to pee, I say to myself -- but all thoughts of a quick run outside fade as the beautiful morning sky commands my attention. What beauty the Forces of the World have brought today!

So I stop. And watch. It happens every morning, I laugh to myself. Captivated by the beauty of the sky. Thank you, Sky, for surrounding me with inspiration. I should have said I would be the astronomer -- I am usually awake earlier than everyone else, anyway. Now where is the Great Shining Sun going to stand up out of the Earth today? Last week I remember seeing the spot where the Sun stood up. It was over that distant mountain with the interesting curve to it. Right next to the lake. I remember last time we had a cold season, just around the time my little Laura was born, seeing the Great Shining Sun rise near that same place. And the days were short and cold then, too. I wonder...

And last cold season, the Great Shining Sun never stood up out of the lake. It was just like the lake made the Great Shining Sun turn around and move along the mountains in the other direction. The Sun must like to stand up out of the mountains -- anyway, everyone knows it is easier to stand on land than on water.

And I remember watching every day, day after day, and the Great Shining Sun was not swallowed by the water. I must remind everyone this is the way it was last cold season, too. There is no need to fear for the loss of the Sun...

And so it was that people long ago paid attention to the sky, and learned by noticing -- the southernmost sunrise, the southernmost sunset, the cold, the longest noon-time shadows, the shortest days, and the longest nights at the time of winter solstice. And they learned not to be afraid for the loss of the Sun, because every year the Sun came back North, and brought with it the warmth and the longer days. It was just a matter of waiting patiently...

Gorgeous Full Moon Setting!

2008-12-22T05:11:00.001-08:00

I awoke at 6:30 a.m. one week ago (Saturday Dec. 13) to find it clear outside here in Massachusetts with the getting-ready-to-set just-20-hours-past-full Moon still visible in the northwestern sky. So I dressed very warmly, made a hot cup of tea, and took my camera to the Sunwheel. The sky was gorgeous!

I arrived at the Sunwheel at 7:30 a.m. as sunlight was already spreading over the land, made my way toward the East to the center of the stone circle, and found that the Sun was just becoming visible through the bare trees as seen from the center of the Sunwheel. And when I looked more closely, I saw that the location of sunrise along the horizon was very close to the position it would have 8 days later, on the morning of the winter solstice. So even though my purpose in being out before breakfast on that cold December morning was to see the Moon setting, my attention was first captivated by the sight of the rising Sun.

I took a number of pictures of the rising Sun toward the southeast, the direction of the winter solstice sunrise, and then I turned around to face the northwest and the setting full Moon. With perfectly clear skies it was easy to see the Moon, still quite high in the sky northwestern sky, and I realized that it would probably be 30-45 minutes until the Moon set behind the hills on the horizon. If I had had long underwear on, I might have just stood out in the dawn air and watched, but I was already chilled to the bone and wanted to get warm. I gazed skyward as long as I could, and then went back to my car to go home.

When I got out of the wind and had a few sips of tea, I turned my car around and was just about to drive away when I realized I hadn't taken any pictures of the Moon. That was silly, I thought -- what if I didn't come back to see the Moon set further? So I had a few more sips of tea, let my hands warm up until I could feel my fingers, got out of the car and walked back to the center of the Sunwheel. I took at least 5 pictures of the full Moon when it was still maybe 10 degrees above the horizon. At this point I was satisfied with my outing, and I went back to the car to go home.

Once I was in the shelter of the seemingly warm car, I had more tea, sipping the deliciously hot liquid as I gazed at the crisp landscape. I was in no hurry to go anywhere -- no one would even be awake at home at this hour. And then I realized that instead of having my car face East, with the Sun already having risen, I could turn my car around to face West and watch the Moon as I drank my tea. So I did.

And by the time my tea was finished, the Moon had dropped considerably in the sky. Again I got out of the car and walked back to the center of the Sunwheel to take more photos. My interest in being at the Sunwheel to see the setting Moon, as opposed to anywhere else, was that Dec. 13 was the one morning this month when the Moon had its northernmost declination (i.e. latitude on the sky), and was even more northerly than the summer Sun ever gets. That meant that the Moon would be seen to set more northerly than the summer solstice Sun. However, since the peak of the Moon's 18.6-year cycle, called Major Lunar Standstill, was 2 years ago in 2006, the setting full Moon today was not as northerly as it had been 2 years ago in December. I was looking forward to the beautiful sight of seeing the Moon set between the summer solstice sunset stone and the northern moonset stone.

So I stood and watched the setting Moon, first taking photos with my zoom lens, and then taking photos which also showed the Moon's alignment relative to the Sunwheel stones. And all the while the Moon was getting lower and lower, closer to the horizon, closer to the time of setting. This time I didn't go back to my car. I just decided to watch the event from where I was. And what surprised me the most was that in the early morning light the full Moon was getting so much harder to see.

I was puzzled by this. I had often seen the Moon rise in the late afternoon, not even as full as now (just 20 hours past the instant of maximum illumination), and even in the daylight the Moon was easier to see close to the horizon these other times than it was this cold December morning. Turbulence in the atmosphere? A lower horizon? I'm not sure. For now, the faintness of the Moon as it set that day remains a great mystery to me.

Just before the Moon touched the horizon, I could still see it clearly, and the Moon shows in the photos. It helped that I knew where it was, though. I realized that if I had gone home and come back to see moonset, I might not have been able to find the Moon in the sky. But once the Moon went partway below the horizon, I could barely see it at all. I knew it was still there, and I took photos in hopes of enhancing them to see the Moon. Then I said a brief 'thank you' to the Universe for the gorgeous show I had just seen. Including that I was awake and well enough to see it! After all, 1 year ago I was not able to just get up any random morning, drive myself to the Sunwheel, and walk back and forth to the center from the road 3-4 times to watch the Moon set and the Sun rise. So even though very cold, I was filled with gratitude.

And this time, when I want back to my car, I really did go home.

I spent the morning making a picasa web album of the photos I took at the Sunwheel -- to view the photos please see:

http://picasaweb.google.com/joyousjudy/NorthernFullMoon?authkey=7WJbjXucYo0#

Happy Winter Solstice!

2008-12-21T08:06:00.001-08:00

We are having a snowy solstice here -- yesterday's nor'easter gave us 12" of snow, and another 8" are in the forecast for today. In preparation for today and tomorrow's Sunwheel events [sunrise @ 7 a.m. and sunset @ 3:30 p.m.], I spent about 1 hour at the Sunwheel with my snow shoes on yesterday, first walking East to West 2 times, then making a path around the Sunwheel 3 times, then flattening an area in the middle, and finally going from South to North 2 times before leaving. Not only was I enjoying being out in the snow, but I was celebrating my healing -- last year I was not yet able to snowshoe at the time of winter solstice.

This morning I went to the Sunwheel at 6:45 a.m. accompanied by my daughter and her husband. They are helping me at each event by carrying things and helping people who want to buy Sunwheel T-shirts and sweatshirts. It had already started snowing, and it still is. There were 9 of us in total at the Sunwheel for sunrise, standing out in blowing snow celebrating the return of the light. The instant of the official beginning of winter was 7:04 a.m. EDT, while we were out in the elements intimately experiencing the environment. And in spite of the snow, I shared with the visitors the 6 things that are special about the day of the winter solstice:

1) shortest day of the year
2) longest night of the year
3) lowest noontime altitude of the Sun
4) southernmost sunrise
5) southernmost sunset
6) Sun directly overhead Tropic of Capricorn at local noon on December 21

Plus I love teaching that solstice means "standstill of the Sun", since already for 1 week the Sun has been rising at the same place, setting at the same place, and had a low noon-time altitude in the sky. This 'standstill' will continue for about 1 more week. Interestingly enough, there are numerous holiday celebrations that happen at this time of year that bring in the light for many days.

This morning it was 18 degrees out and windy, our hands and feet were cold, and our coats became covered with snow. And even so, it was a wonderful way to celebrate the Winter Solstice. We didn't see the Sun but we knew it was there. In fact, after 11 years of seasonal gatherings at the Sunwheel, this was the first time that I held a seasonal gathering while it was snowing. Luckily I live relatively close to the Sunwheel so it was not challenging for me to get there.

Last year it had snowed a few days before solstice, and I realized then that if I owned snowshoes I would be able to create a path in the snow for visitors. I bought the snowshoes then, even though 1 year ago I had just given up using a walker and was unable to use the snowshoes. I thought that snowshoes -- especially with the poles in each hand -- would be ideal for walking in the winter, getting fresh air and exercise, and strengthening my body and spine. And sure enough, about 2 weeks later on a warm January day, I was out using the snowshoes for the first time, learning that it was good exercise that was safe for me in a flat place like the Sunwheel.

It continues to snow as I write these words, in the middle of the day on Dec. 21, 2008. If the snow stops by sunset, we will be lighting candles at the Sunwheel during the sunset gathering -- for solstice and for Chanukkah -- lighting up the stones and the snow and the night, and doing our own little part to add to the increase of the light.

A Snow Drop Peaks Out of the Ground

2008-12-18T18:20:00.000-08:00

This December I have been slowly working on the task of clearing the garden -- cutting the spent stalks of ferns and perennials from last year's blooms, scattering any seeds I find for the birds or for future germination, and mulching the rose bushes in case of a cold winter. I find it easy and comfortable to be on the ground on all 4's, since then gravity is not compressing my spine.

Each morning I tour the garden, gently moving along the garden paths under the pine trees or out in the open. Noticing whatever there is to notice. I notice holes dug by the squirrels, looking for nuts they have buried. I notice the leaves covering the ground. I notice the tightly curled rhododendron leaves. I notice the colors -- browns and greens mostly, with red berries on the crabapple tree. There are huge, green foxglove leaves starting to wilt in the cold. I leave them alone now, after one year pruning them back and the plants all died. I notice the nuthatches walking down the trunks of trees in search of bugs to eat.

And this month I noticed something that I have never seen before in the garden in December. It was on December 1st, no less. There on the ground was the green tip of a gallanthum (snow drop) shoot coming out of the ground.

I had seen the shoots occasionally appear in January in recent years, and then the flowers would bloom in February. Named 'snow drops' because they really do look like little drops of snow, and they really do bloom under the snow. One of the first things to bloom in the late winter and early spring. Before the crocus even. But it was still autumn on December first, and the snow drops were there. I checked yesterday, and found even more -- now 8 shots peeking out of the ground. So I covered them with leaves to protect them from the cold.

We have had the most peculiar weather this fall. Warm days in the 50's, with much rain, and then days in the 20's. Maybe the plants thought our cold snap in November was it for winter. Well if so, they will be surprised by the 14" of snow we are supposed to get tomorrow, 2 days before the winter solstice.

Sunday Dec. 21 @ 7:04 a.m. is the official beginning of winter, and I am curious how long it will last this year. I guess we'll find out!

Sharing Our House With Others

2008-12-10T15:36:00.000-08:00

I have recently wondered about the inventory of other beings in our house.

When I lie down upstairs in the afternoons, I often hear scurrying in the attic -- possibly sounds of mice or chipmunks. Yesterday, I heard sounds of scuffling in the walls that was more reminiscent of bats. And we have had bats in the attic in the past, so why not now? Then there are the spiders that tend to come inside in the cold weather...

We did get rid of the infestation of those moths that eat through boxes of crackers and get into everything. And in the winter, the flies and ants are absent. Thankfully.

I don't mind sharing our house, especially with creatures who live somewhere we don't go -- like in the walls. It's just more of a problem when they make noise that wakes me up, or they die in the walls and smell bad, or eat the structure of the house. Now that's not acceptable.

We've had the smell of a dead animal in the basement recently, and I am wondering if that is really what it is. Haven't found it yet. Don't even know exactly where it is. Hoping it will go away by itself.

Life in the 21st century is truly amazing. If it's not one thing, it's another. Time evaporates, whether dealing with dead animals or fallen leaves or just taking the next breath. I try to remember to savor the moments, even when they smell of a dead animal, but that is usually when I want to hold my breath. I am starting to truly appreciate the advice to simplify one's life. There is so much to do and so little time -- best to spend it on the things that are essential and the things that really matter. Now if I could only find that dead animal...

The First Snow

2008-12-08T07:34:00.001-08:00

Yesterday morning, we awoke to the ground covered in white fluffy snow for the first time this year. Just an inch or so, but enough that it needed to be shoveled off the side walk and brushed off the car.

And it was cold outside, at least by December standards, with wind chills in the 20's. And cloudy and gray. By the time I had cleared the snow from the sidewalks and my car, my fingers and toes felt numb -- at least where I could feel them. OK, I stayed out a little longer than necessary, wandering over the frozen landscape through the winter garden, pruning the occasional rose bush here, scattering the seeds of snakeroot there (it's named black cohosh, also known as 'bug bane' because it keeps the mosquitoes away in the summer).

And as I was finishing up outside and getting ready to come inside to get warm, I recalled the first snow last year. Also December -- the 9th to be exact. Also a small snow fall (2"). I know, because last year I kept a list of the days we had snow and how much we got.

And my heart felt warm and full yesterday, even in the cold, because this year I am walking without a walker. And able to clear the sidewalk with the snow shovel. It didn't matter to me that yesterday's snow was just 1" -- last year I couldn't shovel even that amount. Last year this time I still needed to walk with a walker. And last year this time I was just beginning to get strength back in my spine. I couldn't twist or bend. I remember in the first week of December 2007 trying to do a yoga pose bending to the side or forward, and I couldn't go 1 millimeter.

There has been so much healing in my body over the past year, I am deeply grateful. Sometimes, with the healing being so slow, it is hard for me to recognize my progress. But I remember last December well, and today my heart is full. My spirit lives in delight. I am so grateful for where I am now that I don't look at where I am not.

I am grateful for the 1" of snow yesterday that showed me how much I have healed. And I have great faith that next December I will be even stronger and more flexible than I am now.

How Many Rocks Can Fit Into a Bucket?

2008-12-02T20:11:00.002-08:00

Today I achieved a milestone in my life and in my writing -- I submitted a book proposal for a book describing the Sunwheel, or astronomically aligned stone circle, I have built on the U.Mass. Amherst campus. I have many ideas about books I want to write and publish, and it has been a real challenge to figure out how to manage my energy, take care of myself, engage in my healing, and also to work on the creative projects that are meaningful to me. I began working on this book and book proposal in 2004, so this stage of the project has been over 4 years in coming to fruition.

I was reminded recently of the parable about how many rocks can fit into a bucket. So here is how it goes...

If you have a bucket, and you fill it with fist-sized rocks, would you say that the bucket is full? Well, is it?

The answer is no, the bucket is not full. Because you can now add handfuls of pebbles, and these small rocks will fill in the spaces around the larger ones.

So after adding so many pebbles that they come up to the brim of the bucket, would you now say the bucket is full? What do you think?

The answer is no, it is still not full. Because now you can add handfuls of sand to fill in the holes around the pebbles.

So after adding sand to fill the bucket up to the brim, would you say the bucket is full now? Is it full yet?

The answer is still no, because you can pour water into the bucket, and it will fill the spaces between the grains of sand, all the way up to the brim.

NOW the bucket is full -- of rocks, and pebbles, and sand, and water.

Next, pour everything out, and then put things back into the bucket in a different order. First put in the water, then the sand, then the pebbles, and then the rocks. Will everything fit?

The answer is no, the large rocks will not fit into the bucket if the other things are put in first.

The metaphor here for me about life is that if there are some big things I want to do in my life -- and for me writing a book is one of them -- these won't fit into my days unless I put them in first, prioritize them, make time for them. If I spend my time doing all the little things that are asking for my time and attention, and there are an almost infinite number of such things, then there are not the blocks of time left for the big projects.

So as I was finishing my book proposal, and making time to write everyday, I was reminded of fitting the rocks into the bucket.

And some days, I even dream about having a bigger bucket!

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-27T12:43:00.001-08:00

I love Thanksgiving. For me, every day is a day for feeling gratitude for everything in my life. So on Thanksgiving Day, there is an extra feast to go along, plus everyone I know is also celebrating all that they are grateful for.

There are so many blessings in my life, I know I am very lucky. My hope and prayer for you, and for every human being, is that on this day and on all other days, you feel blessed.

Here is a link to a beautiful movie that for me says it all: May You Be Blessed

http://www.mayyoubeblessedmovie.com/

And may others be blessed by you!

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

The Miracle of Physical Therapy

2008-11-25T21:38:00.001-08:00

I have been receiving guidance for Physical Therapy on and off for 15 months now. It began in August 2007 when I was able to begin to move my body again -- after my spine collapsed, and chemo began, and my bowel shut down, and I was in the hospital. All that. I couldn't move my body very much 18 months ago, and it really is true that our muscles lose their strength very quickly if not used regularly, so I began PT after 2 months of little activity.

I still remember learning to walk again in August 2007, and the visiting nurse was with me in the house checking that there was a clear path for me to walk, with nothing to trip over or get in the way. When she said to me, "You're walking slowly to be careful, right?", I remember replying, "No, this is as fast as I can walk."

And when the PT began at the same time, I was given simple isometric exercises. Some to do when I was lying in my lift chair before getting up, and others to do when I was standing. Exercises to strengthen my muscles, and to begin to stretch them. Always with the reminder to tighten my abs. Of course, I was on prednisone at the time, and one side effect of it is that one has no strength in the abdomen muscles. None at all. And if I didn't tighten those muscles, my back would get tired and sore and strained from lack of support...

So it was very interesting last week to visit my former chiropractor, Linda, who has training in Physical Therapy. I explained my great concern to her, that my lowest rib is almost in contact with my pelvis. She gave me some exercises to do, and instead of saying to tighten my abs, she said to imagine someone was going to tickle me, and me tightening the muscles near my belly button in response. That this would trigger the contraction, and ultimate strengthening, of the muscles in my lower and middle back. I realized that I haven't been tightening the muscles near my belly button as much as the muscles in my lower abdomen.

And already, after doing these new exercises, I can tell a difference in my body. I have more strength and less pain in my back. Where there had been little change over months, I have now noticed a positive improvement in just 1 week. Thank you Linda -- you are a miracle worker! I am now hopeful that my muscles will soon provide greater support for my back, and also greater support for my rib cage. Maybe even help lengthen my spine, and increase the distance between my lowest rib and pelvis. Now that would be a miracle.

I think I'll expect a miracle! After all, why not?

Healing from a Collapsed Spine

2008-11-22T17:31:00.001-08:00

How long does it take to heal from a collapsed spine? From 15 compression fractures and shrinking 3 inches in 1 month (18 months ago) and losing the lumbar curve?

I don't know.
I wake every morning and do 20 minutes of physical therapy before I get out of bed.
I eat plenty of protein.
I eat nutrient dense foods, plenty of organic fruits and vegetables.
I drink Goji juice -- 8 ounces per day.
I take flax oil and fish oil.
I take supplements.
I do stretching exercises and yoga.
I meditate daily.
I say morning prayers of gratitude, expressing my thanks for all the love, abundance, health, support, joy, friendship, inspiration, creativity and peace that is in my life.
I say prayers before dinner, and whenever it strikes me to during the day.
I do standing physical therapy exercises.
I drink plenty of liquids.
I drink goat's milk to enhance the absorption of calcium.
All in all, I feel quite healthy, in fact.

I have enough energy to do what my spine is able to do.
I no longer need a walker -- gave it up 11 months ago.
I no longer need walking sticks -- gave them up 9 months ago.
I can walk up and down the stairs many times a day, as of 4 months ago.
I can walk for 1 hour as of 2 months ago.
I no longer get dizzy, a side effect of the chemo, as of 1 month ago.
I can now do yoga lying on my back, as of 2 weeks ago.

So how long does it take to heal from a collapsed spine?
I don't know.
After 18 months, I still need pain medication daily.
I need to rest my spine after being out of bed for 2-3 hours, and that means I either lie down, recline, or kneel on all fours. Something to relieve the effects of gravity on my spine. I'm still gardening, even though the high temperatures are in the 30's, because kneeling on all 4's feels good to my spine.
Mornings are good, and I am able to move around with ease as I take care of myself, and the ease disappears as the day goes by.

Will there be some magic day that I wake up and find that I am suddenly healed?
I don't know.
I expect that I will continue to improve over time, slowly to be sure, but improve nevertheless in baby steps, tiny increments -- this day being able to stretch sideways, that day being able to run a few steps. Exploring the range of comfort, which is constantly changing and expanding.

So I ask how long it takes to heal from a collapsed spine, and the answer is I don't know. But I do know that I am alive, and grateful to be alive, and healing, and grateful for that as well. And I also know that it doesn't matter if I don't have an answer to the question now, because I will find the answer as I patiently live my life.

Squirrels in the House!!!!!!

2008-11-19T21:06:00.001-08:00

Well, I have lived in the same place for 25 years, and never before have I found gray squirrels in the house. Until this fall. About 20 years ago there was a red squirrel that got into the attic and made a huge commotion very early every morning. Drove me nuts! I had to hire a contractor to cover the holes under the eaves where the squirrel was getting in -- and it had to be when the squirrel had gone out for the day so it wasn't trapped in the house. Yes, I survived that squirrel adventure.

But my dealings with gray squirrels, until now, have been mostly in the garden -- where they plant walnut and oak trees, dig holes looking for nuts, eat the underside of the branches in the maple tree to drink the sap as it leaks out, or chatter at me as I garden.

The first gray squirrel in the house was just 6 weeks ago on the first night of fall when I came back from my trip to Montana -- I wrote about it in the post "Things That Go Bump in the Night" on Sept. 25. And that squirrel was clearly a young one, not yet full-sized. It did some damage, running around the dining room and living room in the middle of the night trying to get out of the closed windows, and finally it ran into the study. I closed the door with the squirrel inside, opened the window, and in the morning it was gone.

I had forgotten about that squirrel until last weekend. On Saturday afternoon I was in the kitchen making apple crisp, one of my signature autumn dishes. All of a sudden there was a huge commotion coming from the other side of the basement door. It sounded like an animal, too much noise for it to be a mouse or bat or bird. Probably a squirrel again. Same one? Maybe, maybe not.

When my partner got home we went into the basement together, and sure enough, there was a large gray squirrel sitting on the bookcase eating the jade plant. It had made a mess of the plant, in fact. Seeing us, the squirrel ran behind the desk, then into the furnace room. I closed the door, and the animal left the same way in came in -- through the walls up to the attic, and then out. I think so, anyway. And this was not the same squirrel as before -- it was a much bigger critter.

Over the past few days, as I pondered the 2 gray squirrels in the house, I wondered about the metaphorical significance of this visitor. After all, to suddenly get 2 visits in 6 weeks from an animal that I have never seen IN the house before -- this got my attention. So, what does squirrel mean, anyway?

I went to my trusty source of information on the metaphorical teachings of animals, the Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams and David Carson. In this book, 44 animals and their habits are described, along with ways of applying the gifts of the animals to our lives, what Native Americans call 'animal medicine'.

In the Medicine Cards, Squirrel signifies 'gathering', teaching us to plan ahead for the coming winter. Squirrel also teaches how to gather and store energy for times of need, to reserve something for future use. The message may be that I should honor my future by readying myself for change. The message could be to lighten my load, and get rid of an excess of things that I no longer need. These "things" can include thoughts, worries, pressures, stresses, or gadgets that no longer work. And squirrel has another lesson which can aid me if I observe what is obvious, and which can prepare me for anything. It has to do with the safe place in which to put my gatherings. Jamie Sams and David Carson write, "This safe place is an untroubled heart and mind, and that which is gathered to put in this place is wisdom and caring". They further suggest that "the energies gathered will set your heart and mind free, so that you will know that all will be taken care of in its own time. Apply this to your fears about the future and they will vanish."

Thank you, Medicine Cards, and thank you Squirrel. I needed that!

Indian Summer Came and Went

2008-11-17T13:42:00.001-08:00

A few days ago we had Indian Summer, and it lasted for about 2 days. The temperatures were in the 60's, it was breezy and warm, and the damp air hit me in the face whenever I went outside.

On Saturday morning, after I went outside for the tour of my gardens, it felt so luxurious to be in the warm air that I decided to engage in the long process of preparing the garden beds and plants for winter. That process includes harvesting and planting any seeds still left, cutting down the dead stalks of flowers, mulching where necessary, raking leaves, and transplanting the plants that would be better off moved.

The wonderful thing for me about gardening now is that my back feels no strain when I am on all-fours. Gravity is not compressing my spine if it is horizontal, which means I can garden on hands and knees for hours at a time. So while kneeling in the garden at the front of the house, I uncovered some Jack-in-the-Pulpit seeds that I hadn't found to plant earlier. And when I picked up the seeds, still attached to the decomposing plant stalk, and that still attached to the plant bulb, the bulb came out of the ground. Oops! Time to put it back in the ground.

The Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants are very interesting, actually, and at the end of the summer when the seeds form, they are so heavy that they cause the entire plant stalk to fall to the ground, tipping the bulb over. So, typically, in the early fall I will find Jack-in-the-Pulpit bulbs in the garden poking out of the ground and tipped over on their sides.

So with a bulb having come out of the ground, I dug a hole and put it back where it belonged. And in the process, it turned out that I had dug up 2 other Jack-in-the-Pulpit bulbs! In fact, there is a small area in the front of our house where there must be over 20 of these bulbs, including all sizes from small peas to large lemons. It was quite a challenge to plant the ones that were showing at the surface, because each time I dug a hole, I uncovered more than the ones I was about to plant.

And as I was 'playing' with the Jack-in-the-Pulpit bulbs, it started to rain. Lightly at first. And I needed to put these bulbs back in the ground, so I just continued to garden in the rain. Then it started to rain harder, but I still wasn't done, so I continued to garden. Anyway, I had my rain coat on, and it didn't really matter if I got wet. After all, it was warm on this Indian summer day. But then it started to rain REALLY hard.

It was when I noticed a flash of light behind me that I wondered to myself 'was that lightning?' and then heard the boom of thunder. I noticed a few more lightning flashes and heard the sounds of thunder before I finished putting all of the Jack-in-the-Pulpits to rest.

With my hands covered in mud, my raincoat completely soaked, and my sweatpants drenched from the knees down, I came in out of the rain after my gardening adventure. After all, it was Indian summer, and I wasn't going to let the warm weather go by without spending time in the garden. I have too much fun digging in the Earth on my hands and knees.

Well, that was Saturday. Indian summer is gone now. Today the temperature was above freezing, but it was cold an breezy. And for the coming week, the highs are forecast to be in the 30's and the lows in the low 20's. So it is safe to say that Indian Summer is over -- it came and went in 2 days.

But even though it was cold today, I was still out in the garden on my hands and knees playing...

The Gifts of the Fall

2008-11-14T05:02:00.000-08:00

"The Gifts of the Fall" that I am referring to are not the gifts of the autumn. I am referring to the fact that I fell last week.

I love to interpret events in my life in terms of metaphor, but when I fell last week it never occurred to me to look for any meaning in this beyond my gratitude for not being hurt, the reminder to be continuously careful, and the obvious improvement in the strength of my body.

And so I was startled when a friend of mine made several suggestions regarding the metaphorical meaning of my falling. First, she reminded me that the Universe sometimes has a dramatic way of getting our attention. Yep -- got my attention. Second, she suggested that perhaps I needed more Earth connection. I reflected on this and admitted to myself that I had been avoiding lying down on the ground because of the sensitivity of my spine to hard surfaces. During the fall, I found myself flung down hard on my back without getting hurt. And after the fall, I was able to dream about camping or even backpacking in the future! Or sunbathing at the beach. Or just relaxing on the ground. Or spending an entire day (not just a few hours) gardening.

Third, my friend suggested that perhaps my back bone could use some strength from the bones of the Earth (aka 'rocks') in healing. I found this idea intriguing.

And as the week went by, I noticed some gifts from the fall beyond these metaphors and beyond the gratitude for not being hurt and the continued care with which I navigate my days. One morning this week, I decided it was time to take out my yoga mat, and I was able for the first time in 18 months to lie on my back and do some gentle yoga poses. I hadn't attempted the lying down poses before I fell because my back had been too sensitive. Last autumn, I was unable to lie on my back on the floor at all. Last winter, it was a painful exercise just to spend 5 minutes lying on my back with my knees up. My spine was too sensitive when the compression fractures were more recent, when the lumbar curve was gone from my spine, and when I had lost much of the strength in my back. Surprise -- it's back. My back is back!

So I lay on my back doing yoga poses I hadn't been able to do for over a year, and I started to cry. Tears of joy, tears of grief -- both from the realization of what it took to get here, and from the joy of being here now. I was too full of emotion not to cry, so the tears ran from my eyes. On and on. But since I was lying on my back, the tears ran down my cheeks into my ears, and then I started to laugh as my ears filled with tears.

My back is back, and I have tears in my ears. These are the gifts of the fall!! And more seriously, and very wonderfully, I now know that my back is truly stronger than I imagined. I could lose my balance and slam my back hard on the ground and not break a bone. Yes, my spine tires easily and I need to lie down frequently during the day, and yes I still need pain medication, and yes there are things I still hesitate to do because of the jolting to my spine (like ride a bicycle). But I never doubted that my back would be back, and now I can say that it is. My back is back, and I have tears in my ears. These are the gifts of the fall!!

One of the Secrets of the Universe

2008-11-11T17:51:00.001-08:00

What makes the colors of the leaves change? As the colors on the trees turn from green in August, to yellow and red and orange in September and October, and finally to brown in November, I often wonder about the miraculous and beautiful changes in the colors.

Certainly, the leaves turn color as the temperature gets colder. And this is related to the days getting shorter and the nights longer. So both the temperature and the amount of daylight influence the colors of the leaves. Also the amount of precipitation toward the end of summer plays a role in how long it takes the leaves to turn and how long they stay on the trees.

But I noticed something intriguing on my walk today in the neighborhood. It is a clue about the changing colors of the leaves.

There is a bush that I walk past on every walk I take, and today many of the leaves on this bush were brilliant yellow, so I stopped to look a them. Tiny, oval, bright yellow leaves. Some of the leaves on this bush were still green, and a small number had turned from yellow to reddish brown, but what caught my attention were the brilliant yellow leaves.

I began collecting specimens of the leaves of different colors, when my attention was drawn to a reddish brown leaf. Then I noticed another reddish brown leaf right behind the first one and in contact with it, with only about half of this second leaf showing. When I looked more closely and separated the 2 leaves, I was startled and delighted! While the foreground leaf was entirely reddish brown, the background leaf had remarkable coloring. It was reddish brown where the light could fall, and bright yellow where it was in the shadow of the other leaf. There was a sharp line where the color changed from brown to yellow, not a gradual change, but as clearly marked as if by a shadow.

This was a dramatic demonstration that the daylight itself was causing the leaf colors to change! And where the light was blocked, the changes were less. It was awesome -- I felt as if I had just been shown one of the secrets of the Universe.

For most trees and bushes, the spacing of the leaves allows light to fall everywhere. So the light is not often blocked by one leaf from another.

And then I remembered something else I had noticed this year more than any other. As the leaves turned color, tree by tree, the leaves on the outside were reddest, then orange inside, and then yellow closest to the trunk. And this happened for the same reason, I think, as the tiny reddish brown leaf which had a yellow part where it was in the shadow of another leaf. The leaves on the outside of the tree get more light, and they shade the leaves to the interior.

So I thought I was just going on a walk today when I left the house in the brisk morning air. Little did I know that I would be shown one of the secrets of the Universe!

Grateful For My Strength

2008-11-09T12:25:00.000-08:00

The leaves are all off the trees now, the daylight disappears earlier, and the temperatures are dropping. Yes, it is starting to look and feel like winter will be coming before too long. And since we have already had the first hard frost, now is the time to plant the spring flowering bulbs -- the daffodils, tulips, and crocus.

I have a special connection with flowering bulbs. I remember having a garden in our backyard when I was a child, and planting bulbs that would flower in the spring -- crocus, daffodils and tulips. Then when I had a chance as an adult to have a garden, I started by planting crocus, daffodils, and tulips. In fact, I still have some crocus which bloom every spring that I planted over 25 years ago!

As a gift from my mother, 2 weeks ago I received a box in the mail containing a large number of spring flowering bulbs, half for me and half for her. Last fall, I was unable to garden very much, so my ability to kneel down and be on all fours touching the Earth now is a real gift. And this was the weekend for me to garden. The weather was warm, in the 50's and 60's, not too rainy, and the new garden bed by the street out front had already been prepared. So yesterday I planted 25 daffodils, 10 tulips, 50 yellow crocus, and 20 anenome. I stopped gardening when the heavy rain began, so today all I had to do to finish was to plant 25 more daffodils and 50 purple & white crocus.

In the middle of the day I gathered all my gardening tools -- the shovel and trowel, gloves, pillow in a plastic bag to kneel on, and of course, the bulbs. I was outlining the area in the garden bed where I would plant the daffodils so I could begin to dig, and as I went for the shovel I tripped over a rock in the border of the garden. Upon losing my balance, I stepped on the plastic container holding my trowel -- luckily I avoided stepping in the box of crocus bulbs -- but I was still off balance. My left foot landed on a different rock in the border of the garden and that rock went out from under me. Trying to catch my balance, my right foot went into the garden bed followed by my left foot, and then my right heel caught on another rock and I fell to the ground landing first on my bottom, my momentum carrying me backwards. I didn't do a backwards summer salt, but I ended up lying flat on my back and hitting my head hard on the leaf-covered street. I remember feeling my entire spine go down on the ground, much less gently than I move these days, and realizing that I was not in control of where I was going and that I did not know the ultimate outcome. I was very present to observing and participating in what was happening to me.

And the HUGE MIRACLE is that I am not hurt. If any of the neighbors had seen me fall they might have thought I was doing a wild dance. I did hit the back of my head rather hard on the street, so I called Gene on my cell phone to tell her I was on the ground, and then I went into the house to take some homeopathic Arnica Montana for the fall. I was a bit shaken.

And then I went back outside, got on my hands and knees, and planted the remaining bulbs.

When I was finished and came back inside the house to rest, I thought more about my fall, and I realized that I am very lucky. I could have landed on my spine and fractured some vertebrae, or landed on my wrist, or broken a bone, or bruised myself badly. The fact that I emerged unscathed from my sudden connection to the Earth indicates to me several important things. First, my bones are much stronger now than they were 18 months ago. And second, I have some pretty talented angels and guides with me, who made sure that I didn't get hurt today.

So, all in all, it has been a very exciting day. I am very grateful for the strength of my bones, for my balance such as it is, and for the diligent attention of my guides -- and next time I will be more careful when I garden!

Dear President-Elect Obama

2008-11-07T18:47:00.000-08:00

Dear President-Elect Obama,

I have never before written to a president, or a president-elect, and yet writing a letter to you has been on my mind all day. I am inspired by you -- by your words, by your intelligence, by your clear love and devotion to your wife and family, and by the connection you maintain to your heart as you speak. I am thrilled to be alive at this historic time, at this hopeful time, when the infinite potential of the Universe remains to be manifested. I am filled with optimism, and I truly believe that you will lead us toward a better world for our children and grandchildren. I see you as one of us, a normal person, not as part of a political machine, and I believe that is why I felt I could write to you.

I trust that you will make choices that are good for us and good for the planet. I know that you understand the importance of creating a world where women contribute equally to men, through their equal presence at all levels of government and society, and through remedying the discrepancy which still exists in the pay of women in relation to that of men. And I know you understand the importance of caring for the environment, and of moving toward a sustainable society where all forms of life are valued. I look forward to seeing the choices you make.

I believe that we are all on the Earth to be of service, and my favorite way of being of service at this time in my life is through the public teaching of astronomy in the out-of-doors. It is my hope that I will meet you someday, and that I will have the opportunity to share my love for the stars and sky with you and your family.

With gratitude and admiration,
Joyous Judy Young
Professor of Astronomy
University of Massachusetts, Amherst

Back from Chicago

2008-11-05T18:47:00.000-08:00

We just returned today from a trip to Chicago to visit my daughter. Not planned to coincide with the 2008 presidential election, and yet it was a momentous event to share. Not planned to coincide with my daughter's first professional talk on "Sustainable Gardening", and yet I was there to help give her pointers as she planned the talk, what to say, how to say it, and how to present it. I felt I was sharing a deep part of me with her, the teacher in me, and for that I was both honored and thrilled.

This was the first time in almost 2 years that I had visited my daughter in her new home. To be able to travel has been such a revelation to me. And even while able to travel, it still requires great diligence on my part to rest my back regularly, to plan days that include horizontal as well as vertical time, and to plan less as opposed to more.

While in Chicago, I was remembering that 1 year ago I walked around the block for the first time in 5 months. And on this recent trip, I was able to walk along Lake Michigan near the Northwestern campus. Both times, the autumn colors were spectacular. While the colors are now mostly past peak here in Massachusetts, the colors in Chicago were spectacular. And the warm weather was a treat.

So while in Chicago, it was an awesome and thrilling feeling to be witnessing and participating in American history. I feel inspired and hopeful about what we as a people can create in the world. And I feel humbled and grateful that we have an intelligent and thoughtful human being as president-elect.

Again I am reminded of the fortune on my tea bag -- "Anything is possible".

Cape Cod Adventures

2008-10-28T12:18:00.001-07:00

It was with great gratitude, joy and delight that we were able to visit friends on Cape Cod over the weekend. They had bought a house there earlier this year, and once I became able to travel long distances in the car (in January) and sleep in a real bed (in May), we were able to come up with a weekend that worked for all of us -- the end of October.

So we packed up the car, including the dog (along with dog bed and toys and food), the air filter that makes white noise so that I can sleep, a cooler with food and Goji juice, suitcases, etc. -- we don't travel light -- and we headed off for an adventure. The forecast was for cool weather with a possibility of rain, but we knew that we would have a good time no matter what the temperature.

The last time I had been to the Cape was in July 2006, the week before my diagnosis. That summer, I faced a significant degree of anemia and would tire easily, but I didn't know why. Last summer, I was unable to walk or ride in the car, so going to the Cape was not a possibility. This time, I was overwhelmed with gratitude as we drove past the dunes and grasses, the dwarf pine and scrub oak, with autumn colors on the leaves of trees and bushes. I felt an overwhelming sense of freedom and joy from being able to return to the ocean, to walk on the beach and look for beautiful shells and stones, to photograph the sea gulls as they soared and swam. And I looked forward to seeing our golden retriever Goldie play near the ocean.

For me, the time at the Cape was enormously healing.
It was a joy to walk in the sand.
It was a blessing to hear the sound of the ocean waves.
It was a surprise to hear the noise made by stones rolling at the water's edge as the waves returned to the sea.
It was a delight to see Goldie watch the waves, and then to see her bound away from the water when it approached her feet.
It was mesmerizing to see the sea gulls flying over the water.
It was beautiful to see the autumn colors in the place where the sea meets the sky.
It was a gift to be reminded that Life is made up of memorable moments.

And that even a vacation near to home can bring peace, gratitude, delight, and healing.

Making Friends With Fear

2008-10-22T17:46:00.001-07:00

I find that as I navigate my days, working diligently on my healing, maintaining a positive attitude and positive thoughts, that it is impossible to keep fearful thoughts away. No matter how hard I try, they creep in. And no matter how many times I push them away, they come back.

So I have begun to make friends with fear. My neighbor is a very wise woman and an accomplished healer. She reminded me recently that to feel fear means that I am human. After all, we all need to be afraid of the oncoming train to motivate us to get out of the way. And there is the familiar statement that courage is not the absence of fear, it is the ability to act in spite of fear.

One thing I have learned about fear around a health situation or diagnosed condition is this -- if I am fearful of what will happen in the future, "what if this?" or "what if that?", then I am not living in the present. Instead, I am trying to project onto an uncertain future. And NO ONE knows what the future holds, not the people with cancer diagnoses, not the people with AIDS, and not the people with the diagnosis that they will die someday (i.e. everybody). Anyone can play the 'what if' game -- what if I get hit by a car? what if she leaves me? what if I lose my job?

And when I go to fear, when I play the 'what if?' game, I feel it in my solar plexus.

So for me, now, when I find myself going to fear, I say to myself, "Thank you, self, for the reminder that I am human." I turn the fear into gratitude. I smile inside, and then I relax into the gratitude I feel in the present moment. And another lesson of fear for me is to remind me to bring my attention back to the present moment. And then to I ask myself, "How do I feel in THIS moment?" Because this is the moment that matters, the one that I live my life in, the one that I love in, the one that I am cured in.

One of the tricky things about a diagnosis is that is it easy to 'buy into' what the doctors tell you a diagnosis means. It means this or that will happen. It is easy to worry, to be fearful about the future. To believe that something is wrong inside, and to become attached to that way of thinking about what is going on in your body. That this or that is happening and always will be. But doctors only know about the physical body. They know the mind has power (such as in how well the placebo effect can work), but they do not know how much power there is in the human mind. Doctors do not and cannot know how much magic the human spirit can work, or what miracles the Divine can manifest.

So now I let fear teach me to be present in the moment. And I let fear teach me to be grateful for being human. And for being alive. I allow fear to be present in my life, not as something to be afraid of, but as something to learn from. I am making friends with fear.

For me, healing is about the acceptance and embracing of what is. And having faith in magic and miracles. And believing that in every moment anything is possible. It is about trust and patience, and about being willing to wait. Even if I feel afraid. For this, too, shall pass.

Wild Ginger Surprise

2008-10-20T08:01:00.000-07:00

Have you ever looked closely at a wild ginger leaf? I mean really closely. Have you ever looked at a dried, pressed wild ginger leaf and held it up to the light?

Last week I began collecting beautiful autumn leaves, in my usual fall way, and placing them in the back pages of the huge Webster's Unabridged Dictionary to be pressed flat. Each autumn when I do this, I find the leaves from the previous year in the dictionary, all pressed flat, still showing the gorgeous color they did when I found them the previous autumn. I make the pressed leaves into collages of varying sizes, and them laminate them to make place mats or note cards or bookmarks or simple beautiful collages. I also make color xeroxes of the collages, before they are laminated, and these copies preserve the autumn colors forever (see post of Oct. 14 "Welcome Autumn!").

When I took the pressed autumn leaves out of the dictionary I found the usual beautiful red and yellow and green maple leaves of various sizes, I found oak leaves and dogwood leaves, witch hazel, catalpa, and ginkgo leaves, and then I found leaves from almost every plant in my garden. In looking at the leaves and holding them in my hands, I recalled that last fall I was unable to go for long walks in the woods as I had done years past, so instead, I wandered slowly through my own gardens and picked autumn leaves of many of the perennials I have growing here.

I found dried, pressed snake root leaves, columbine leaves, chameleon plant leaves, forsythia leaves, viburnum leaves, and turtle head leaves -- and then there were some leaves I could not identify. One leaf in particular got my attention, partly because it was so big. I could not remember what plant in my garden had leaves like this one. Its body was almost 6" by 4", rounded and very much like a violet leaf but bigger, and with its stem. I put it aside and wondered what it was.

And then I held this mystery leaf up to the light and was given a gift of huge proportion. There in the veins of this leaf, as I looked at it with light shining through, was the outline of a most beautiful lotus flower! I stared at this for many moments, taking in the beauty of this pattern, still wondering what plant the leaf was from, and acknowledging the beauty that is at all levels of the Universe, from the beautiful Sun and Moon in the sky, to the gorgeous autumn colors on the trees, to the pattern in the veins of this dried leaf from my gardens that I had collected 1 year earlier. And at the time I was unaware of the lotus in the leaf.

The next day, I wandered through my gardens and forgot to look for the plant that created this leaf. Back inside, I gazed at the magical lotus in the leaf and the plant popped into my mind. It is WILD GINGER!!! I have a large area of wild ginger under the pine trees in the back, where I planted it 10 years ago. It has spread well but not in an invasive way, and I remembered noticing before how similar the wild ginger leaves are to violet leaves, only larger.

So this morning, I went out in the cold air (it was below freezing last night) and found a wild ginger leaf that had not yet died and I picked it to press for next year.

Because I want to be reminded how much more beauty there is all around me, even more than I know -- and I have been able to find beauty everywhere in the world. Thank you, Universe, for the wild ginger surprise!

A Rainbow Every Day

2008-10-19T20:11:00.001-07:00

I love rainbows. And not just because I am an astronomer, even though the colors of the spectrum are extremely important to astronomers. For me, the rainbow is more than a conveyor of information about the Universe. It is a source of beauty.

I do not see rainbows very often. Maybe one or two per year in recent memory. I remember a very beautiful rainbow I saw at the beginning of autumn this year as I was sitting in a restaurant eating dinner. I had a front row seat for seeing that spectacular display!

And hanging in my windows at home I have some glass ornaments, so occasionally there is a rainbow spectrum which sends a splash of color across my wall.

So with my love of rainbows, I was delighted to find that I could apply the rainbow to my eating habits. One of the principles put forth in the book Food As Medicine by Dr. Dharma Singh Khalsa is that I should EAT A RAINBOW EVERY DAY.

What does this mean? Well, nutrient dense foods are colorful foods. [I have been hearing that for several years -- from nutritionists, from my chiropractor, from my acupuncturitst.] So, to eat a rainbow every day means to eat red, orange, yellow, green blue, and violet foods every day. And that means fruit and vegetables.

So now I shop for color. Tomatoes, raspberries. Carrots, oranges. Pineapple, squash. Lettuce, broccoli. Blueberries and more blueberries. Blackberries, plums. And I eat for color. I remember to eat more fruits and vegetables with this simple reminder to eat a spectrum of color every day. It's a fun, beautiful way to approach nutrition and health.

Of course I would much prefer to see a rainbow in the sky every day, but if I can't see one, then at least I can eat one!!!

Making Friends With Multiple Myeloma

2008-10-16T11:10:00.001-07:00

I ran into a colleague the other day at the local garden center. I was in search of lime, as I was preparing a new garden bed and the soil in our yard is highly acidic from all of the pine trees around.

This colleague approached me and asked me how I was doing. With a big smile, I said, "Great." We chatted for a few minutes, and then he said, "I'm going to say something awful. You look wonderful. You look better than you did a few years ago."

I replied, "That's not an awful thing to say. I am spending a great deal of time and energy taking care of myself, so it is wonderful that I look wonderful, and it is also a wonderful thing to say."

I understand what me meant, though. The fact that there was anemia in my body, and then cancer diagnosed from a condition in my blood and bone marrow, and then spinal collapse, and then chemotherapy -- all of this might not lead to someone looking wonderful.

But I am not just anyone. I have chosen my own path in healing, and in life. And in my healing journey, I am combining the physical and the spiritual -- using Western medicine and Eastern acupuncture, daily meditation and visualization, with careful attention to nutrition and exercise. I make sure to spend time every day in nature, to read inspirational literature, to listen to beautiful music, and to eat healthy organic food, to spend time with those I love, and doing those things that bring me joy.

Plus, I am not fighting what is inside me. It takes energy to fight, and I want all of my energy for healing. So I am in a place of full acceptance and embracing of what is. That is, I am living joyfully with what is.

The fact is that I have made friends with multiple myeloma, that I am grateful for all the gifts in my life, that I am taking very good care of myself -- and I feel wonderful.

Welcome Autumn!

2008-10-14T09:11:00.001-07:00

After 2 nights last week with temperatures near freezing, the trees have now gotten the message that autumn is here. In the past week, the colors have exploded on the trees in Amherst, combining vibrant yellows, reds and oranges with the greens of trees yet to turn and the browns of leaves past.

My neighbor paused to speak to me this evening, and mentioned that the maple tree in our front yard is looking very beautiful. I had noticed the orange trees up the street and the red trees down the street, but it is hard to get a full view of the tree right in our front yard. So I took the opportunity to walk up the street just as the Sun was setting.

As I walked, I looked down at the beautiful red and orange and yellow maple leaves at my feet -- small red leaves with yellow edges, orange leaves with dark spots, solid yellow leaves, deep red leaves with black veins, and even some leaves which look as if they were painted with a full array of colors.

I love collecting colorful leaves in the autumn, and then I press them in the huge Webster's Unabridged Dictionary -- where they stay until I retrieve them, dried and in full color. And I know it is autumn when I collect leaves every time I go for a walk.

When color xerox machines were first invented, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with them. I took the colorful autumn leaves I had collected, made a collage of them, and then made color xerox reductions of the beautiful array of autumn colors. Leaves that themselves had never been found together in nature or turned color at the same time could be displayed together, and the xerox would never fade like the leaves themselves. I had found a way to preserve autumn. And since then I have continued, year after year, to collect whatever colorful leaves I come across in my wanderings.

So now I can say that autumn is here -- the trees are in color, the air smells rich and damp, the days are cooler, the Sun is setting earlier, and the time is here for me to collect leaves. Welcome autumn!

Reflections on a Healing Journey

2008-10-11T18:43:00.000-07:00

Today was a glorious day, with the autumn colors dressing the trees in bright reds, oranges and yellows. It was a perfect day to go for a walk in the woods.

I hadn't visited the local conservation areas in many months, as most of the walking I do is in my own neighborhood, so today I gave myself a treat. I went to the Amethyst Brooke Conservation Area, and walked on the Robert Frost Trail. As I walked through the woods on paths covered with leaves, and smelled the smells of Earth and Autumn and Nature, several lines from Robert Frost poems went through my head. "Whose woods these are I think I know, his house is in the village though." And my favorite, "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler, long I stood, and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth..." I even imagine that the woods Robert Frost wrote about were the very woods I was in, with two roads in a yellow wood.

It was just 11 months ago that I went for my first walk in the woods after I experienced spinal collapse. At that point I had grown strong enough to walk with trekking poles on uneven ground, and my destination one warm November day was the very same Amethyst Brooke Conservation Area that I visited today. But today I needed no trekking poles. And today, when I came to the log over a small stream, I recalled that 11 months ago I had been unable to continue.

But today, as I stood before this log, I took a deep breath, focused on my core stability and my balance, and walked 10' across a narrow log spanning a small stream. It was wonderful! It felt like a right of passage, a gateway, a milestone.

Crossing this log over the stream marks a significant stage in my healing journey. It marks my independence, that I can go for walks on my own in the woods and not be impeded. It marks my ability to navigate a challenge. It marks my courage, to face what was once impossible and to find that it has become possible. And it symbolizes the obstacles I still face, and the knowing that I will surmount them.

It is as simple as taking a deep breath and crossing a narrow log over a stream.

What Is My Story?

2008-10-10T11:23:00.000-07:00

During Yom Kippur services yesterday, the Rabbi spoke in general terms about our stories, and I began to wonder about my story, that is, the story I tell myself.

What story do I tell myself about my life and what I face?

1) I tell myself that everything happens for a reason, even if we may not discover those reasons during our lifetimes.

2) I tell myself that every moment contains unlimited possibilities, that anything is possible in the ongoing magical unfolding of Creation.

3) I tell myself that my story today does not have to depend on my story of yesterday, or on my father's story, or my doctor's story. I am free to create my story anew each day.

4) I tell myself that my soul's gifts -- being an inspiring teacher and a creative artist, always looking on the positive side of a situation, being able to find beauty all around me, being a loving and generous human being -- are given to me by Great Mystery. And the way I use these gifts in the world is my gift back.

5) I tell myself that I deserve a life of joy, ease, love and abundance, and that is what I find.

6) I tell myself that it is my story that matters for me, and that I never need to give up my power of creating my ongoing story.

7) I tell myself that there are no rules. There are only choices, and then there are consequences of those choices.

8) I tell myself that I love gardening, singing, writing, reading, Sudoku, meditating, walking, hiking, playing, eating, smiling and laughing.

9) I tell myself that I love my family and friends, that I am a good mother, and that I am a respectful and compassionate member of society.

10) And I tell myself that it is crucial for each of us to make choices that reflect a deep understanding and reverence for the web of life that we are all part of.

This Diagnosis of Has No Authority Over Me

2008-10-09T17:46:00.000-07:00

A friend came to visit over the weekend, and as we were talking she said she wished a friend of hers with tongue cancer could meet me because I am so positive about my health. I realized in that moment that I am now in a place that I continuously forget about my diagnosis. It holds no authority over me.

How did I get to this place?

Partly, it has to do with the collapse of my spine. For the past 16 months, my attention has been intensely focused on living with and healing from spinal collapse. And while this situation was caused by the cancer, the healing of the fractured vertebrae is simply that, the healing of bones in the spine that help hold up the skeleton. In my healing, as I have gained strength of body and spine, flexibility of muscles, and stamina for simple daily activities, the fact of positive progress -- no matter how slow -- gives me great joy in my improvement and faith in its continuation. In seeing the miraculous healing of my spine, I have (gratefully) forgotten about the cancer in my body.

And there is another reason why the cancer diagnosis holds no authority over me. Every morning, I do a meditation in which I slowly send golden sparkling light to every part of my body -- each bone, each joint, each organ. And as I do this meditation, each time I inhale I say in my mind, "Thank you, Great Mystery, for my curing." And each time I say these words to myself, I feel in my body the true joy and gratitude that accompany a deep knowing of being cured. So after 6 months of doing this meditation for about 20 minutes at the start of each day, and thus saying to myself "Thank you, Great Mystery, for my curing" and feeling the joy and gratitude of curing ~50 times each morning, at this point it appears that my body believes it.

And I believe it, too.

So Grateful for Zometa

2008-10-08T07:24:00.000-07:00

Today I had my bi-monthly trip to the hospital for an IV infusion of Zometa, the bone strengthener which I call my 'sacred nectar'. Zometa has helped to rapidly build the strength of my bones, and to counteract a consequence of the multiple myeloma in my body, which led to an excess of plasma cells in the bone marrow. This excess of plasma cells in the marrow causes normal bone building (by cells called osteoblasts) to slow down, and normal bone breaking down (by cells called osteoclasts) to speed up, which led to the weakening of my vertebrae and to spinal collapse in July 2007.

I have been receiving Zometa as an IV for 16 months now, and I am very grateful for Zometa for helping strengthen my bones -- along with the chemo (which helped halt the myeloma), physical therapy, eating nutritiously, a regular meditation practice, and daily bone strengthening exercise such as walking, gardening, and going down stairs. As much as I want to put only natural and healthy food into my body, to be alive in the 21st century with a diagnosis of multiple myeloma is to be able and willing to take advantage of such discoveries as Zometa when necessary.

So I am very grateful for Zometa, the sacred nectar for the strengthening of my bones.

Back from My Travels

2008-10-07T07:04:00.001-07:00

It is autumn and I am home, back from travels to points West, where I went for rest, for retreat and renewal, for connecting with friends, for adventure, and especially for time in nature.

For many months, when I was healing from spinal collapse and a flare-up of multiple myeloma in my body, friends would mention the places they were going, and I would be very excited for them and then I would get starry-eyed. At the time, I knew I couldn't travel -- I couldn't sleep in a regular bed, I needed to rest my back by sitting in a reclining lift chair every other hour, and I could barely walk. One year ago now, I was able to travel by car for only about 1 hour. And I did. We drove to see the autumn leaves, and visited quaint towns nearby us in New England. And if I pushed myself to do more than I was used to, it would take at least 2-3 days of complete rest to recover my previous level of energy.

So I have learned a new meaning of patience, and I was already a patient person. I have had to live patience in order to heal -- since healing bones is normally slow, and with multiple myeloma it is even slower. In the past I would be patient, and then eventually get to the limit of my patience. But with slow healing, there is no limit to how patient one needs to be. The patience needs to be there, and keep coming, and coming, and coming. Healing from spinal collapse (with 15 fractured vertebrae and a height loss of 3") is probably the most challenging thing I have ever faced in my life. It has required extensive patience, deep acceptance of what is, willingness to do what needs to be done, and more courage than I knew I had.

And all along, I never doubted that I would one day again be able to travel. And now that I can travel -- that is, I can sleep in a regular bed, I can walk more easily, at least in the early part of the day, and I can sit relatively comfortably on an airplane for 2 hours (which is more than some people can say!) -- I find that it still takes a great deal of strength of back to travel. In the afternoon, when my back is tired, I can pull a rolling suitcase but I don't have the strength to lift one.

So I still have much healing to undergo before my body can do what I could do 2 years ago with ease, and before I become a world traveler again. How long it will take I have no idea, but that's OK, because I'm patient!!

Things that Go Bump in the Night

2008-09-25T21:34:00.002-07:00

I arrived home last evening from my first solo trip in 16 months, and what a wonderful adventure that trip was. I had gone to Montana for a Yoga retreat (taught by a teacher who is very experienced in helping those with physical challenges), and also for a Harvest Gathering, both events held at the beautiful Blacktail Ranch near Wolf Creek, Montana. That is the ranch where the Sunwheel that inspired me to build the one in Massachusetts is located, and I was thrilled to be back. I was able to lead sunrise gatherings for the attendees of both retreats, and to enjoy the beauty of the West, even with my continued need to be gentle with the demands I place on my body.

I traveled home on Monday, Sept. 22, the day of the Equinox, and sure enough I was up for sunrise on Sept. 23 to lead public gatherings for the first full day of Autumn at the Sunwheel. Of course, I was tired after my travels, and I needed to unpack some of my things for the sunrise gathering -- camera, long underwear, hat, gloves, and warm coat. I got to bed late, and expected to sleep 4.5 hours before my alarm would wake me in the morning. A short night, but I could rest during the day if necessary.

So I was very startled to be awakened at 2:30 a.m. by some noises downstairs in the house. I was exhausted, and knew I had to get up early to go to the Sunwheel, so I was in no mood to be losing sleep. Our bedroom is right over the living room, and I heard what sounded like several things falling off the walls. After the noises kept happening, I got up to go and investigate. Normally I might be somewhat timid, but after being in Montana in the 'wild', I picked up a wooden stick and was ready to defend myself and my family against whatever was making the noise.

I didn't find what caused the things to fall, but there on the floor was a small framed glass hanging (not broken) with the word 'Spirit' on it that had been hanging in the window. I wondered what the message to me was, then put the hanging back, went up to bed, and within 5 minutes the noises started again. Our 2-year old Golden Retriever is frightened of strange noises, so she began shaking. And after 30 minutes of listening to clunks and creaks in the house, I was truly puzzled.

I woke up my partner for help, and together we went to investigate. I turned on all the lights upstairs, and suddenly a small gray animal with a fluffy tail ran from my meditation room and down the stairs. It was a baby squirrel! After surveying the house, we found remarkably little damage for all the things that had been knocked over -- pictures on the floor, curtains pulled down, a small tea pot knocked off a shelf onto some pottery. Basically the squirrel had been trying to get out of the closed windows, probably after getting in through the basement. It was terrified.

Then it ran into the guest room and I closed the door. And as I was falling asleep, I realized that I should open the window in that room (even though it was in the 40's outside) so the squirrel could leave. And sure enough, in the morning the squirrel was gone.

One of the funny parts of this adventure was to go from thinking there was something scary wandering the house, to finding a tiny squirrel. My thoughts had initially created a situation of discomfort, and I realized that in any situation my thoughts could either see things as scary or as soft and fuzzy like the squirrel.

It all comes back to trusting the Universe, trusting that I can take care of myself, and not making assumptions until I have all the information. I'm working on it!

Grateful to be Able to Shower!

2008-09-07T07:27:00.000-07:00

Today when I took a shower, I thought back to what it was like for me one year ago to shower.

Between the middle of June 2007 (when I went to the ER with a back spasm that caused my legs to collapse under me) and the end of August 2007 (when my daughter got married) I took 2 showers -- one in the middle of the summer, and one just before the wedding. It was so hard for me to go up and down the stairs, and impossible for me to stand without support, that showering on my own was not an option. I wore my hair in braids all summer so that it would not get tangled, and my daughter would very patiently braid my hair.

So taking a shower became a family adventure. My daughter and partner would put on their bathing suits, I would sit on the stool in the shower, and they would wash me while I held on to the grab bar in one hand and my walker in the other. It would take the 2 of them to get me all set up, stable, washed and cared for without getting too much water all over the bathroom floor (since the shower curtain would be open so I could hold onto the walker with one hand). They were good at washing my hair, and luckily the shower nozzle is removable so rinsing my hair was easy. They just couldn't wrap my long hair in a towel turban-style the way I do, and since I couldn't lean forward at all I couldn't show them what to do, either. No matter.

Towel around head when done, and dried and all clean. Those 2 showers last summer felt WONDERFUL!!!

And by the beginning of autumn, as I was healing and gaining strength, I became able to shower on my own. The first time, my partner sat in the bathroom to be nearby and make sure I was OK. For me to shower took so much energy and focused attention, that it was my main activity of the day. By winter, I had graduated from showering by sitting on the shower stool to standing under the water. I gradually became able to raise my arms and put them behind my head, which I wasn't able to do when my spine collapsed. I still remember the first time I could stand in the shower and wash my own hair, to simply take care of myself. At the time, I wasn't able to bend my spine at all, but I could stand up with ease, and wash my hair with 2 hands.

Slowly my pattern of self-care shifted from showering 2 times during summer 2007 to one shower every 2 weeks in the autumn, to one shower per week in the winter. By spring of 2008, I stopped keeping track of showers, knowing I would be able to get clean if I needed, and that a shower could wait if I didn't have the energy or strength in my back.

Such a simple thing, a shower. And so grateful I am to be able to shower with ease these days. I really didn't know how sick I was last summer, and that is probably a good thing, since I never had any idea what would be involved in healing. So showers are one symbol for me of how much better I am now. I took one today, and even though it was just part of my day instead of the main event, I still remembered to be grateful that I am now able to do the simple things in life. I am healing, and THAT is wonderful.

Guess What Rested in the Garden?

2008-09-05T07:16:00.001-07:00

This morning as I quietly drank my morning cup of tea on the front porch, watching the beautiful morning unfold, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. When I turned to look, I noticed that a very tiny bird was sitting on a rock. It moved to another rock, and I wondered to myself, "Is that a hummingbird?!" I had seen a hummingbird rest in the branches of our spruce tree many years ago, but I am so accustomed to seeing them fly that a hummingbird resting was almost unrecognizable.

Right after I wondered if it was a hummingbird, the tiny bird raised itself a few inches off the ground, hovered in place, and then zoomed off. A hummingbird? YES!

So I ran inside to get my digital SLR camera with my new zoom lens, imagining that if the hummingbird rested in the garden once, it might come back. I spent the next hour enjoying the birds and squirrels and flowers in the garden, and the colors of the leaves beginning to fall. Camera in hand and ready for action.

Did the hummingbird come back? No, not that I've seen yet. But I'm patient!

Faith and Trust in the Universe

2008-09-03T07:00:00.001-07:00

As I heal, after working so diligently every day for over 13 months, I am very protective of the progress I have made. I cherish it, and no matter how slow the progress is -- and sometimes it seems that weeks go by before I notice even a tiny improvement in my condition. I am still taking just as much pain medication as I did 1 year ago, and I still cannot stand for more than a few hours before I need to lie down to rest my spine. I still do physical therapy exercises I was given a year ago (and I was told emphatically NOT to stop doing them). So every day when I wake up, I slowly and gently wake up my muscles...

I have had to take the meaning of patience to a new level. I have always been a patient person, but the patience always had a limit. In the past, after being patient for a significant period of time, I would always get to a place where I would feel, "OK, now I have been patient enough. Now it is time for something to happen." Not so any more. I am patient as my body does what it needs to do to heal, and then I have to continue to be patient. And again. And again. And then even more patience.

There is no one who can tell me when my healing will have progressed to the point that I will no longer need pain medication. I will have to find that out for myself. And there is no one who can tell me when I will be able to have a day go by where I do not have to repeatedly lie down. That, too, I will have to find out for myself. And yet I have no doubt that I will reach that level of health, that my body will continue to grow stronger and more flexible month by month, more physically able to walk and hike and ski, and yes, even ride a bicycle!

The fact that I do not doubt for a moment the degree of my healing is part of Who I Am. I have great faith and trust in the Universe. I live a life of abundance, and I have never doubted that. I live a life of joy, and I do not question that. It is part of Who I Am. I can take a challenging situation and find the bright side of it -- for example, of being diagnosed with cancer. It is Who I Am, always looking for the positive lesson in what the Universe and Great Mystery present before me.

And yet, being human (or at least being over 50) means that I am also forgetful. At times, my mind will wander into future and wonder 'what if this happens?' or 'what if that happens?', and then I find myself in fear. An illusion about something that I have no control over, and which is not real. Then I have to remind myself to bring my attention back to the present moment, remind myself that everything is fine right now. Yes, my healing may be slow, but I AM healing. And I remind myself that I do have faith in the Universe, that I do trust the Great Mystery to be perfect in what and how things are orchestrated. This trust and faith in the Universe is for me the truth of what is. And I can say to my fear, "Thank you for reminding me of my human journey."

One doesn't have to have a diagnosis, a label, in order to go to the fear of 'what if?'. Anyone can be paralyzed by fear -- what if I get hit by a truck today? or what if I get hit by a meteorite? These, too, are thoughts that can create fear, but this fear is not (usually) related to the Truth of the moment. It takes attention to one's thoughts -- recognizing which thoughts need to be heeded and which are an illusion -- and diligence in the present moment to bring one's self back to Truth. And in that truth, faith and trust bring a sense of peace and ease, bring an acceptance of what is.

Of course, the irony is that with a diagnosis of cancer, the diagnosis itself creates the tendency to go to fear, worry, anxiety, and 'what if' regarding the future. And yet, the Truth is that none of us knows the future. We just know the present. Is yours a present which is a present (a gift) to yourself?

The Healing Power of Excitement

2008-08-29T09:54:00.001-07:00

I am just astounded by the healing power of excitement.

Last summer, when it was so hard for me to move and I was in so much pain, there were 2 exciting events which involved interacting with many people. First, on June 30, 2007, our gardens were one of the 8 stops on the Amherst Garden Tour. I sat on a chair on the front porch, greeted the 311 visitors to our garden over the course of 6 hours, and was thrilled at the show of enthusiasm and delight, along with the wonderful compliments I received about our "Garden of Eden". And with the thrill and excitement of the day, I felt good in my body that day.

Then at the end of last summer -- Aug. 26, 2007 -- my daughter got married. There were times in the middle of the summer when I wondered what my physical state would be for the wedding. But following my hospital stay at the end of July 2007, I had begun to heal from the many compression fractures in my spine, and was receiving ongoing chemotherapy and physical therapy. By the end of August my dream came true: I WAS ABLE TO DANCE AT MY DAUGHTER'S WEDDING. Not only that, but I helped walk her down the aisle (true, I was also using her for support!), and I danced not one but SIX dances in all at the reception. At the time, dancing consisted of leaning on and holding on to my partner, but I didn't care HOW I danced, just that I was able to stand and move and celebrate!!

After the wedding festivities, when my daughter left town with her husband, she suggested that I have parties and as many celebrations as I could, because she noticed how I lit up when I was excited and when there was something to celebrate. I thought about her words, and took them in deeply when I realized the truth in them. And since my birthday was just 2 weeks away, I decided to have a birthday party! So less that 3 weeks after the wedding and dinner and brunch with over 120 people, I had a pot-luck dinner & birthday party with 25 friends coming over to celebrate my birthday. It was wonderful.

And as the year has gone by, I have continued to notice the healing power of excitement. If a friend comes over to see me, I not only do not notice the pain in my body, it truly isn't there, and I don't need pain medication until after the friend leaves. Or if I spend time with family now, I am so excited about being able to walk that I can walk more than I have typically walked in the last 6 months.

And with the excitement I feel, no matter what the source, when it means that I feel better in my body because of the excitement, that makes me feel emotionally even better, adding to my excitement and joy. So there is a positive feedback loop that gives me enormous amounts of energy. I am grateful, I feel good, I can use my body, and I am heaing.

And amidst all of the excitement, no matter how good I feel I still need to lie down for 2-3 hours in the afternoon to rest my spine, and that is something that I have come to love. I read, I meditate, I make phone calls, and in the good weather I lie down outside in the shade and enjoy the beauty of my "Garden of Eden".

So I have come to not only accept my situation, I EMBRACE IT -- I derive great strength from knowing that I am actively engaged in my healing and curing, and I have deep faith and trust that I am well cared for by the Universe.

The Hawk Feather and the Hawk

2008-08-26T19:34:00.001-07:00

As my back heals from spinal collapse resulting in 15 compression fractures (15 months ago) and spine surgery (3 months ago), my strength has grown to where I am able to go for a walk in the morning if I go within 2 hours of getting out of bed. I have created several routes of varying length in the neighborhood, some with hills and others which are level, some which take 30 minutes to complete and others which take closer to 45 or 50 minutes. Because my legs have been strong all along, I can walk fast (or what is fast compared to others who I pass on my walk), so my 40 minute walk is over 2 miles.

Today, as I went on my 30 minute walk, I picked up several feathers. One was a beautiful blue jay feather with a white tip and blue and black markings up the spine, and a few were nondescript, grayish in color, from what bird I do not know. Also on this day, because of road construction, I retraced my steps on the return home rather than walk in a loop. So I was quite surprised when I was returning close to home that I noticed a feather on the ground that I had passed by 20 minutes earlier. Maybe I had been looking at something else at the time.

The feather was white and mostly fluff, about 2 inches long, and I almost didn't pick it up. But I bent down, picked the feather up and turned it over, and was amazed to find that I was holding a gorgeous small red-tailed hawk feather, with the distinctive light brown markings up the spine. I was elated.

I am always on the lookout for red-tailed hawk feathers, because there is a nesting pair of these hawks within 1 mile of our house. I often see and/or hear the hawks, not only here at home, but 1 mile away at the Sunwheel -- flying, or soaring, or looking for food. At the Sunwheel, the hawks often sit on the tall standing stones to get a good view of the movement of live food on the ground.

So today, when I found the hawk feather close to home, it was a reminder to take my camera and new zoom lens with me to the Sunwheel in hopes of photographing the hawk up close. And what a gift that hawk feather turned out to be. Sure enough, a hawk was at the Sunwheel, standing on the field of grass that had been recently mowed, about 300 feet from the road. I attached the zoom lens to my camera before I got out of the car so I would be ready to take pictures when I made my presence known, and started taking pictures as soon as I got out of the car. As I walked closer to the hawk, I pointed the camera to focus and take a picture -- the camera (a digital SLR Canon Rebel XTi) makes a tiny beeping noise as it focuses. So the hawk noticed me and/or the beeping noise, and she started to fly.

I took pictures as fast as I could, not really knowing if the hawk was in the image or not. In fact, the hawk had flown to a branch in the tree right over my head. I continued to take pictures, and then the hawk flew to a bare branch in the tree, always looking around for food. I continued to take pictures until it was time for me to rest my back.

At that point I looked down on the grass and saw another hawk feather, larger than the one I had found in the morning. I picked it up, and said a prayer of thanks to the hawk and to the Universe for the amazing gifts of this day. What a wonderful adventure this is!

To view my nature photos, go to my Astronomy and Spirituality web site.

The Magical Organic Blueberries

2008-08-24T08:40:00.000-07:00

I love blueberries. And at the end of the summer, the local crop of these tasty berries makes them easily available.

So as I drove past a fresh fruit and vegetable stand last week, I stopped to buy some blueberries for a friend I was going to visit. As I selected the box I would buy, I asked, "Are these organic?" And the answer was no. But I bought them anyway so I would have them for my friend.

I didn't buy any for myself, though. I would wait until I could find organic berries, since I am making every effort to eat organic food.

So I visited my friend, and then had one of my Feldenkrais bodywork sessions. On the way home, as I was driving the same route I had traveled earlier in the day, lo and behold there was a folding table in a driveway with a large sign that read "Organic Blueberries".

I had already passed it by the time the words registered, so I backed up to the driveway and parked. As I got out of the car, an elderly man walked to meet me. $4 a pint for the tastiest organic blueberries around, he said. Taste one, he said. Someone had just bought 10 pints, and he only had 4 left. Hand screened by his wife, he said, so there were no stems. Just the best berries.

So I tasted one of the large, dark blue berries, and its deliciousness exploded in my mouth. I bought 2 pints.

And after getting back in my car I laughed. I was sure those berries had not been there earlier in the day. I gave thanks to the Universe for granting me my wish for organic blueberries, and I felt overjoyed and blessed by the magical gift. Life is truly amazing.

A Night to Remember -- Anniversary in the ER

2008-08-22T19:19:00.001-07:00

This post continues the story of what happened after my bowel shut down due to chemo (see post of 8/20/08).

I was taken by ambulance to the ER just before midnight on July 24, 2007 -- needless to say, it was quite a dramatic way for my partner and I to celebrate our 15th anniversary together. I was in a great deal of back pain from the collapse of my spine, so shortly after beginning the ambulance ride I was given morphine. I remember watching what landmarks I could make out through the small upper windows of the ambulance, and paying attention to our progress by the turns we were making.

After arriving at the ER, I was put in a room where I waited. I remember doing a lot of waiting that night. I was waiting for a doctor to help me, waiting to digest my dinner, waiting to poop, waiting to feel better. I couldn't have felt much worse. Luckily I didn't have to wait for my family -- my partner and daughter drove to the ER and stayed with me that night.

I have never been so uncomfortable in my life. It seemed that my body was becoming overwhelmed with systems that didn't work. My skeletal system was incapable of holding me up, and caused me a great deal of pain. But the real reason for being in the ER was the shutting down of my bowel. My digesting dinner could not go into my intestines, which were already full with 5 days of food, so instead of moving through my system in the usual way, the food was going up and down my esophagus and burning my throat in the process.

My body was toxic to me, and I was in a sort of stupor from the morphine. I was in so much pain and discomfort, lying there on a bed in a darkened room in the ER in the wee hours of the morning, that I didn't care if I died that night. It breaks my heart to know, even now, that I had lost the will to live, that there was a moment that I was willing to relinquish this incarnation -- the love, the family, all that I had worked for, all that brought me joy. I just didn't care any more. It took too much energy to care, and I just didn't have any.

When a doctor did examine me, he decided to do an enema to clean me out. Nothing happened. Then another enema, and still nothing happened. Then the doctor decided it was time to do X-rays, and that freaked me out. Because of all of the compression fractures in my spine, I was unable to lie down on a hard surface, like an X-ray table. It would cause back spasms, and I just couldn't choose that for myself. So I suggested that we do another enema first, since that would be the therapy of choice if the X-ray showed an obstructed bowel.

Several hours later, after the X-ray and 2 more enemas, still nothing had moved in my intestines. It was around 4 a.m. in the ER, and my partner was sitting next to me holding my hand while my daughter was sleeping in the corner sitting up in a chair. I was dozing on and off, sleeping in the stolen moments when I could become comfortable, only to be awakened by my faulty digestive system. I turned to Gene and said, "I decided to stay."

The next morning I asked Gene if I had really said that, or if I just imagined it, the words, "I decided to stay". Yes. I had said those words out loud, I had decided to stay. I had been ready to give it all up, to relinquish this life on Earth, and then I had moved through that moment and made a decision -- something shifted inside of me and I made the decision to live. And in retrospect, it is clear that this decision was an important part of what I needed to begin the healing process.

Lying in the ER, before the sky became light at the beginning of the next day, the doctor came in to talk to us. He said there were 2 choices -- to admit me to the hospital, or to send me home. They weren't going to send me home because my bowel was not functioning, so they would admit me to the hospital. Only there weren't any rooms available yet, so I would stay in the ER until one was vacated.

Before the doctor left the room, my daughter said to him that I was very uncomfortable since my digested dinner was not able to go anywhere, and she asked about having my stomach pumped. That sounded like a good idea to all, so the nursing staff came in to put a tube down my throat (in through the nose -- very uncomfortable but effective). And as soon as the tube hit my stomach, the contents came up with quite a force of ejection! I did feel better after that.

By late morning, I was moved to a hospital room in the new wing -- I lucked out and had a private room with a picture window looking out over the green trees of western Massachusetts.

And thus began my first ever stay in the hospital, and a chance to begin a long healing journey -- and that is the story for another post.

The Good Morning Kiss

2008-08-20T20:07:00.000-07:00

My daughter came into town last weekend to attend the wedding of some dear friends of hers, so I drove to the airport Thursday night to pick her up. It was another set of firsts for me -- the first time in a year that I had driven to the airport on my own, and the first time in a year I had driven on the highway at night. It was wonderful to drive on a clear summer night down the highway with the wind blowing on my face, the Moon almost full and lighting up the sky.

Even though we got home late and all went to bed around 2 a.m., the next morning I was up early as usual. By 9:30 a.m. I had done my morning routine of tea, physical therapy, prayer, yoga and meditation, and I went upstairs to get my daughter up. She heard my foot steps and opened her sleepy eyes, even though I was trying to be quiet, and I leaned over and kissed her good morning. As I looked down at her smiling face, I realized that last summer when she got married, I was not able to do that for her, to kiss her good morning on her wedding day.

But I could do it now, I could give her that good morning kiss, and I was overcome with such a deep sense of gratitude and joy at being able to kiss my daughter good morning, that tears streamed down my face. Tears of joy for this rich moment of life that is such cherished gift.

My Bowel Shut Down with Chemo

2008-08-20T20:04:00.000-07:00

One year ago in July, following the collapse of my spine, it was clear that it was time for me to start chemo (see post from June 7, 2008 on "Spinal Collapse" and from July 18, 2008 on "So Grateful for Where I Am Now -- Chemo Began 1 Year Ago").

So it was on Friday July 20, 2007, that I began taking the 3 different chemo agents prescribed for treating multiple myeloma -- daily Thalidomide, weekly Dexamethasone, and Velcade every 3 days for 2 weeks followed by a week off. The Thalidmoide makes one sleepy, so I was told by my oncologist to take it around 10 p.m. each night. In fact, it was given to pregnant women in the 1950's to help them sleep, after which it was discovered that Thalidomide causes horrible birth defects. So now there is tight control over who takes Thalidomide, and who can even touch the medication. But the good news for those with multiple myeloma is that Thalidomide helps kills the cancerous plasma cells in the bone marrow, and it also helps one sleep in the process. Other side effects from Thalidomide, besides sleepiness, can include constipation and numbness or tingling in the fingers and toes. The numbness never bothered me...

At the hospital on Friday July 20, I was given a 3-second long IV of Velcade, along with other drugs to reduce nausea, and then at home that night I took the weekly dose of Dexamethasone and nightly dose of Thalidomide. In addition to the Thalidomide being constipating, I was informed that both the Velcade and Dexamethasone are also.

So the weekend went by, and each evening I took Thalidomide. I continued my habit of drinking plenty of liquid (over 80 ounces per day) to maintain kidney health, including water, juices, herb teas, no alcohol, and only 1 cup of Earl Grey tea with caffeine in the morning. As Saturday went by, I didn't poop. My daughter's future in-laws came into town to visit us over the weekend. My roommate from college came to stay, too, so I was showered with lots of love. My future son-in-law was also in town for the weekend, and we had fun playing all kinds of board games. And by the end of the weekend, still I hadn't pooped.

Monday came and it was time to go back to the hospital for another IV of Velcade. The ambulance arrived at the house at noon to pick me up, since I had great difficulty getting to the hospital in a car due to severe back spasms every time we went over tiny bumps in the road. Unfortunately, the ambulance was no better. When I arrived at the hospital and was wheeled on a gurney into the infusion center for treatment, the nurses told me I was a kind of greyish color. They also said the only alternative to getting the ambulance rides to the hospital was to be admitted to the hospital as a patient, and I thought that was not necessary. I didn't realize at the time how close I was to being admitted to the hospital, how sick I really was.

After treatment on July 23, an ambulance took me back home from the hospital, and again I took Thalidomide that night. I didn't poop that day, so it was 4 days since I had emptied my bowel.

When Tuesday came along, it was a beautiful summer day, and my partner's and my 15th anniversary. I still remember having visits from 2 very dear friends, one in the morning and another in the afternoon, as well as having a visit from the secretaries of the Astronomy Department, who brought lunch to share. It was a wonderful day with friends, and still no poop.

By late afternoon, I started to realize that there was a problem. I had been eating food for 5 days since chemo began, and nothing had come out. I was feeling very full inside, with not much room for anything new until I emptied some of it. So I asked my partner to go to the drug store to buy the stuff I had drunk before my colonoscopy 1 year before -- and 2 hours after drinking it nothing had happened.

We ate dinner, and I had room for a little food, so I joined in the festivities. But still no poop came out, so afterwards I sent my partner back to the drugstore, this time for an enema. That didn't work either, and by 11 p.m. I realized that I was in trouble, literally in deep shit. If all of the things I knew how to do weren't helping my intestines move food through, I needed to go to the hospital.

So shortly before midnight on July 24, 2007, we called the ambulance to take me to the ER for an obstructed colon. I still remember being taken from the house down the front sidewalk, looking up at the stars in the clear sky and exclaiming, "It's so beautiful. I haven't seen the stars all summer!"

I was close to death that night, although I didn't know it until later. But even though I was in very serious condition, I still found joy in the beauty of the Universe.

Black Holes and the Placebo Effect

2008-08-14T08:53:00.001-07:00

Being a scientist -- and an astronomer in particular -- means that I was brought up to view the world in a rational, linear way. In this world view, every condition observed in the Universe is the result of circumstances which can be explained based on physical laws. And these physical laws become clear as a result of observation, experimentation, model building, and theorizing, and then making additional observations to test the theories and models.

Each branch of science, whether astronomy or geology or biology, is a study of a particular class of objects, be it stars or rocks or living organisms. And while scientists build intellectual models to explain what they see -- whether it be a model of the Universe and the Big Bang or the Earth's interior or the nucleus of an atom -- it is important to remember that the model is not reality. It is simply a model.

I decided to become an astronomer the day I learned about Black Holes. I was a senior in high school, and I was taking an astronomy course along with AP chemistry; at the time, I had already applied for college and decided to major in chemistry. But on the day that I learned about black holes, I was presented with a science which accepted the existence of something which could never be proven to exist. That was what intrigued me about astronomy. A black hole has a field of gravity so strong that nothing can escape, not even light. So it is not possible to see one, because no light is emitted or reflected. Not a single photon. And if one could get close enough to **know** that one was visiting a black hole, one would be too close to get away and convey the information. I loved the idea that astronomy accepted the existence of black holes simply on the basis that theoretically such things **could** exist.

Of course, astronomers do see evidence in the Universe of what they think are very likely black hole candidates -- systems with one star orbiting something that cannot be seen, with gas swirling around that something, and as that gas gets closer to the center, strong X-rays are emitted. And although no one will ever **prove** that a black hole is there, most astronomers accept that conclusion. It amuses me that in my astronomical career, I never did study black holes. I just liked that they could exist.

When teaching introductory astronomy at the University, one of the statements I make to get the students' attention is "Black holes don't suck," even though there is a common misconception to the contrary. If the Sun were to be magically and instantly replaced by a black hole of the same mass at the center of the solar system, we would not be sucked into it -- we would continue to orbit the center of the solar system just like we do now. The main difference would be that it would be dark.

Today, I understand my initial attraction to astronomy and black boles as being one of those subjects where science and spirituality meet. And I continue to be interested in the crossroads of the scientific and spiritual ways of looking at the world.

It is curious to me that so much of what scientists accept as true is actually based on faith, although most scientists would deny it. Faith in the assumptions. We assume that the physical laws we discover here on Earth also apply on the Sun, the planets, and throughout the Universe, and that the elements that make up the Earth are the same elements found throughout the Universe. And many of the assumptions that we make are testable and verifiable. But some are not. And yet, the truth of these assumptions is taken on faith.

Because I am interested in the subject of healing, it too provides a topic which is at the crossroads of science and spirituality. And that topic is called the placebo effect. It is well known in medicine that some patients will get better if a doctor says to a patient that a particular drug is very effective, while it is actually made of sugar. In some cases, if a patient believes the pill can be effective, it will be, even if there is nothing in it. The placebo effect is the power of the mind to heal, or healing which manifests based on the belief that healing is taking place. How magical! That the body can heal based on a belief in the mind!!

When I first learned about the placebo effect, I wondered why doctors didn't take advantage of it. After all, if the mind is so powerful, it seems to me that it should be fully engaged in healing. I find it curious that the medical establishment has given this magical effect a label -- the placebo effect. Then doctors and researchers try to find the effectiveness of drugs by doing double blind studies so the mind will not be engaged in healing. And in doing double blind drug trials, they imply that the mind's role should be circumvented, and that it is the drugs that are important.

But in true healing, the mind is continuously engaged. I would like to see drug trials which are triple trials. That is, add to the double blind studies an additional trial to fully engage the power of the mind -- tell people that they are taking a drug and that it is very effective. But science and medicine ignore this potential, this magic, this power of the mind to heal, and they try to find how good their drugs are.

But no drug will ever come close to doing the healing that the body is already very capable of doing on its own.

I say bring on the healing power of mind. Bring on the magic. Bring on the curing. For we are beings with unlimited potential, and anything is possible in this amazing Universe of ours.

Dreaming of Drumming

2008-08-11T12:41:00.000-07:00

For 16 years I have wanted a Mother Drum. That is, one of the big drums such as I have seen Native American people playing during the dances at Pow Wow gatherings.

I first played a Mother Drum during the summer of 1992, when I went to Montana and attended a 2-week program led by Native teacher Brooke Medicine Eagle. After dinner on the first night of the program, Brooke suggested we get warm clothes and flashlights, and come to the yurt for drumming. I still remember going up to her and asking, "What's drumming?" She answered my question by saying that I should come and find out. So I did.

In the middle of the yurt there was a large drum, 3 feet in diameter, supported on a stand. Several women were sitting around the drum, and each held a drum beater in her hand. One of the women began playing a regular beat, with gentle effort, and the others joined in with great accuracy and in unison, so that the reverberating sound was magnified. I watched and listened, and as soon as there was an opening I, too, joined with those who were playing the drum.

It turns out to take quite a bit of skill, as well as a good sense of rhythm, to play a drum for a long time and maintain the beat without speeding up or slowing down. Also, it takes a great deal of attention, listening, and coordination to be able to play in unison with others. And so, for the 2 weeks that I was in Montana, I played the Mother Drum often, and purchased a small hand-held drum for myself. I was drawn to drumming from my first exposure to it. And it was a dream of mine to get a Mother Drum someday. But we don't really have space for a large drum at home, so I never acted on that dream...

I have returned to Montana for various programs on 8 occasions over the past 16 years, and I always looked forward to having the opportunity to play the Mother Drum. Of course, I play my small drum during the dry months in Massachusetts -- generally October through April. And I take this drum with me when I travel out West.

So it came as a wonderful surprise this spring, when I was searching the internet for information on bone health and reading about bone building, when I came across references to the beneficial effects of vibration on bone building. Drumming is good for my health!!

It was in this context -- and also realizing that if I wanted a Mother Drum I needed to get one and not just dream about it -- that I decided to get a Mother Drum. Toward the end of the spring I contacted my dear friend Paula, woodworker and drum maker in Seattle, and asked her to make me a 3' diameter Mother Drum. It arrived last week!

The wood is cherry, the drum body is 15" high and 3' across, with an elk hide on one side and a cow hide on the other. A beautiful instrument with a gorgeous sound. With a simple tap, a penetrating sound reverberates deep inside the drum, and I feel it throughout my body and throughout the whole house. I can feel the vibration with my hand an inch away from the drum surface. And not only am I having fun playing it, but I am helping my bones regenerate in the process. Still, we really don't have room for a large drum, so for now it sits in the center of the living room.

No longer am I just dreaming of drumming, but I am also dreaming of strong bones. Built through fun, through vibration, through joy, and through a dream come true. Now I just have to figure out where we are going to keep it!

Such a Beautiful Summer

2008-08-05T20:29:00.000-07:00

I am thoroughly enjoying my gardens this summer -- seeing the vibrant colors of the flowers, being able to kneel down on the Earth and care for the plants, and simply relaxing to read or meditate outside, lying down on a small folding cot that was taking up space in the basement.

The cardinal flowers are now in full bloom, with their brilliant red blossoms that are even redder than a cardinal with wings. The richness of their color is totally mesmerizing. And the snakeroot, with their long stalks of white flowers, up to 8' tall, add contrasting color and height to the garden. The day lilies are just about finished blooming; the roses are starting their second crop of blossoms; the phlox are in full bloom -- whites, pinks, reds, purples, pinks with red centers, and purples with white centers. The black-eyed susans (yellow rudbeckia) are so numerous that they add cheerful color all over the yard, and the sweet peas continue to open their flowers, surprising me with occasional white blooms amongst the pink.

Last summer this time, I was just learning to walk again, and I rarely made it outside into the garden. With a collapsed spine, there was little strength in my back bones and muscles, and each day I would walk with the walker around the inside of the house. My daughter measured with a tape measure the circuit of the downstairs -- the distance from my recliner to the hall to the bathroom to the kitchen, the dining room, and then back to my chair in the living room. Over all, a distance of 65 feet, which meant that to go 1 mile I would walk 81 loops around the downstairs.

I remember when the visiting nurse came to the house in early August last summer to check out the set-up for me -- asking me to show here where the bathroom was, where I would sleep, making sure that there were no rugs for me to trip on, and watching me move. As I walked with the walker to the bathroom, she said to me "You're walking this slowly to be careful, right?" And I remember answering, "No, actually this is the fastest I can walk."

So I began walking loops by the 5's and 10's. I tried in those first few weeks of August last summer to walk at least 1/2 mile per day, or 40 loops. As I got stronger, some days I would walk 40 loops in the morning, and another 40 in the evening. And sometimes I would lose count. The actual number of loops was not important -- what was important to me was that I was feeling stronger and getting stronger day by day.

After all, I had an important goal -- my daughter was getting married at the end of August last summer, and I wanted to help walk her down the aisle, and also to dance at her wedding. So I HAD to get stronger. And I learned that having a goal and working toward that goal, no matter how challenging, contributes enormously to healing.

And last summer and all last year I had no doubt that I would regain my strength and the full use of my body, but I had no idea how long it would take. And I still don't know how long it will take, even 1 year later. But I am blessed to be happy and healthy, and I am grateful to be alive. And I am willing to do what it takes. Especially when it includes being able to spend time in my gardens.

The On-Going Saga of the Carrot Cake

2008-07-29T20:29:00.000-07:00

When my daughter was married last August, the wedding cake of choice was a carrot cake with cream cheese icing. We went to great lengths to make sure the icing would be a real cream cheese frosting, and not simply the white wedding cake stuff. No problem, we were told. And because a carrot cake is so dense, the cake would not be the usual wedding cake tower, but 4 separate rounds of successively smaller sizes arranged beautifully on a table.

In the end, there were only a couple of things that weren't quite right about the carrot cake -- the frosting was not cream cheese frosting, the cake tasted more like a spice cake than a carrot cake, and the usual small round top that is saved for the bride and groom's 1st anniversary was never made. Instead, there were 3 equal-sized rounds that were all consumed at the wedding. But otherwise, the cake was fine -- we were quite full by the end of the dinner anyway.

We called the caterer after the wedding was over to ask for this small cake, and when we went to pick it up, it was a full 14" diameter carrot cake that could not possibly fit into our small freezer. So we ate some and gave the rest away, but still had no carrot cake to offer my daughter and her husband for their 1st anniversary celebration.

Now, as it happens, yesterday morning we decided on the spur of the moment to go to Maine for 2 days to visit my daughter and her husband and in-laws. And since it is close (within 1 month, anyway) to their 1 year anniversary, I decided I would bring a carrot cake to Maine for us all to celebrate together.

So I called a local ice cream parlor and ordered a 12" diameter carrot cake, which I picked up this afternoon. But when I got home and opened the box, the cake had clearly fallen apart -- icing was covering the sides of the box, and the cake was crumbling. So I took the cake back to the store and got my money back, went to a local bakery and got a cute 7" diameter carrot cake to take to Maine.

I have been laughing to myself all afternoon about the saga of the carrot cake. I hope it tastes as good as the one I make. This one that we are taking to Maine is a surprise for my daughter, so that adds to my enjoyment. But now I think maybe I'll get a food processor, and then the next time I want a carrot cake, I'll make it myself.

Calling a Hummingbird

2008-07-27T16:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I returned home after spending 5 days with my family to celebrate my mother's 80th birthday. This was my first vacation in 2 years, so not only was it wonderful to spend time with my immediate family, but it was additionally wonderful that I could travel, see new sights, and go for walks in a new place. My brothers had not seen me since January, just after I had stopped using the walker, and I have made tremendous strides in healing since then -- becoming stronger, more energetic, and looking "like the picture of health" as someone remarked.

Upon returning home, I went for my usual garden tour, following the paths and exploring the perennial beds around my yard, looking for the flowers that had opened in my absence. After all, during the warmth of summer, a lot can happen in a garden in 5 days. If it is hot, the plants may wilt and die. Or some that have a short blooming time may flower and fade without being seen. Luckily, while we were away the temperatures were not too hot, and there was plentiful rain -- so the garden didn't need me to water it.

The flower I was most excited to see upon returning home was the cardinal flower, lobelia. It likes to grow in the shady woods along stream banks where the soil is rich and damp, and there are 2 areas in my yard where the cardinal flower thrives. Or there used to be. In fact, it is doing so well now that this year I have over 30 flowering stalks of the deepest vibrant red color, and the cardinal flower has even spread outside of the garden borders, as well as to new spots entirely.

As I strolled in the garden yesterday and stood in front of the cardinal flower, I was struck with deep gratitude, feeling great joy and a tinge of sorrow -- that I was standing before this gorgeous plant and able to walk in the garden, unlike last summer this time when I was in the hospital and missed seeing the cardinal flower completely.

Today when I strolled through the garden and came to the cardinal flower, I had a different thought completely. I was reminded that the hummingbirds love the cardinal flower, and I wondered if I would see a hummingbird in the garden enjoying these brilliant red blooms as much as I do. My mother was with me, having come to visit us after her birthday last week, and I told her of the 3 times this year that I had seen a hummingbird -- once when we were in Arkansas in May, once when I was visiting friends in June, and then last week during our family gathering for her birthday in July.

As I said this, I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turned around see what it was. A hummingbird had flown to the pink sweet peas about 8 feet behind me, and as it hovered near the flowers I cried out to it with great glee. I know I said something, but now I cannot recall what. I was SO excited to see the hummingbird -- the first hummingbird I have seen in my gardens this summer. My mother turned to me with a look of complete bewilderment on her face and said, "It was like you just called the hummingbird -- you're magic."

It was like magic, this most recent time that I saw a hummingbird! So tomorrow, I plan to sit outside near the cardinal flower to watch for hummingbirds. Kind of like a vision quest in my own yard. Because I know that the hummingbirds love the bright red blossoms, and sooner or later these joyful little birds will hover nearby. And this summer, not only will I will be there to greet them, but I will also be there to say, "Thank you for Who You Are!"

So Grateful for Where I Am Now -- Chemo Began 1 Year Ago

2008-07-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

One year ago, on the 3rd Friday of July 2007, I began chemotherapy. At the time, I was unable to walk very far or move my legs to get into a car -- not because of pain but because my legs just didn't move. So the nurses checked with my insurance company, and it was arranged that an ambulance would take me to the hospital for treatment. A 30-minute ride each way.

What I didn't know was that ambulances don't have very good shock absorbers. Also, the stretcher they had me in would recline back significantly, but it wouldn't lie flat. That meant I was lying back as the ambulance went over bumps, and having back spasms every time. Of course, there was significant road construction last summer, with gravel roads for part of the way... I will never forget holding tightly onto the side rails of the stretcher, desperately trying to lift my body off the cushion so that my back would not feel any of the bumps.

It was hell.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was delivered to the infusion center and transferred to a bed for receiving my first round of chemo. There were papers to sign, nurses to listen to, side effects to learn about, drugs to take orally, drugs to take trough an IV. I was given a notebook full of information. I was told about the side effects of drowsiness from thalidomide, of possible neorological damage, of constipation. I was told about the side effects of dexamethasone, including bone loss (and my bones were already breaking down) and constipation. I was given phone numbers to call if I had questions. And lastly, I was given a 3 second long IV of velcade, the new drug for treating multiple myeloma that makes everything else more effective, except one's intestines. You guessed it -- velcade is constipating.

Leaving the hospital with a body full of toxic chemicals, a notebook full of information and a hand full of prescriptions, I joined the ranks of millions of cancer patients who experience chemotherapy. And even though I loathe putting toxic chemicals into my body, for me chemo made the difference between life and death. And for that I am immensely grateful. I wouldn't be where I am now, had it not been for chemo, and I am very grateful for where I am now.

I have no doubt that I would have died last summer had it not been for chemo, beacuse even with chemo, I almost died. But that story is for another post.

Keys to Living in Alignment

2008-07-15T10:21:00.000-07:00

Here are the keys I use in order to live in alignment with the Universe:

ATTENTION -- keep it in the present moment
INTENTION -- keep it focused on living in good relationship with all Life, respectful of all creatures (although it is still OK, and sometimes necessary, to set boundaries)
ACCEPTANCE -- allow the present moment to be what it is, and embrace it as it is
TRUST -- this is a big one, learning to trust yourself, your instincts, and your intuition
BEAUTY -- see it everywhere around you and also inside you
GRATITUDE -- feel it, express it constantly, and see it everywhere in everything

When we keep our attention and awareness in the present moment, we create the container within which anything can happen, including miracles!

The Healing Power of Mind

2008-07-13T21:05:00.000-07:00

My friend Susie recommended that I read Deepak Chopra's book Quantum Healing, and I am thoroughly loving it. Although it was published nearly 20 years ago, this book is remarkably clear, insightful, inspiring, and current. Deepak Chopra describes stories of curings and spontaneous remissions of cancer, along with insights into the minds of patients. From this book and the stories in it, I am reminded of the healing power of words, and also of the enormous power for words (especially from doctors) to discourage. I feel grateful that my own oncologist said to me earlier this year that in his opinion the meditation I do is at least as important as the chemo. Coming from a doctor, I view this as inspiring, supportive, and opening the door for possibility.

Reading Quantum Healing has inspired me to continue diligently with my practice of meditation and healing/curing visualizations.
I was also inspired to create a new visualization which I have added to my daily regimen, in which a team of Ms. Pacwomen go through my bone marrow gobbling up any identical plasma cells, starting at my feet and going out the top of my head. When finished, they convert any cells they have gobbled into usable energy -- so far both love and hummingbirds have emerged from the top of my head in this process.

In one story, a woman with a tumor on her breast chose not to have conventional treatment (radiation, chemo, or surgery), and visited Deepak Chopra to get advice from the Ayurvedic perspective. He did encourage her to have surgery, to have a more beautiful life and to not have to take care of the tumor. As she left his office, this patient told him that she had never felt threatened by the tumor, and never identified with it. Her comments contained the essence of the words I wrote on the post entitled "Healing and the Wind", to not make a diagnosis part of you, to not identify with it, but to just let the energy flow through and past you.

Deepak Chopra describes a major study of 400 spontaneous remissions of cancer, which was later interpreted by Elmer and Alyce Green of the Menninger Clinic. They found that "all the patients had only one thing in common -- every person had changed their attitudes before the remission occurred, finding some way to be hopeful, courageous, and positive."

It it clear that the body has the capacity to respond with health to thoughts that are uplifting. So, bring on the joy and live each moment to the fullest, and the space for miracles will be created!

Living in Alignment with the Universe

2008-07-10T04:52:00.001-07:00

Over the past month, since I commanded my curing, I have noticed something very interesting occurring. It is a transformation of my life, at a very basic level, and the result is what I call "Living in Alignment With the Universe." There is no other way I have to describe it.

For the past year, I have been living with my attention focused fully on the present moment, more fully than I have ever been present before. At first, this was by necessity, when I was in so much pain that it took all my attention just to move, being careful so as to not hurt myself. As I have regained the use of my body, for moving around the house, walking in the yard or on nearby streets, I have continued to keep my attention focused in the present moment as much as possible. Of course, this includes making plans for the future during the present time. But the main difference between my way of being in the world now as opposed to over 1 year ago, is that I no longer waste time and energy on fearful thoughts, on worry, or on creating scenarios in my mind regarding this, that, or the other that I have no control over.

In the present moment lies the infinite potential of the Universe, and that is where my attention is. For I know that I am unlimited and that anything is possible (see first post of July 6).

During the week of July 4, I was on my own at home and had the opportunity to have 2-day solo silent retreat in my own space. I had been planning this retreat for over a week, so I scheduled no appointments during this time, did all the shopping beforehand, and told family members that they would not be able to reach me. I planned to turn off the phones and the computer that I use for e-mail, so that I could enter silence on Wednesday July 2 at 5 p.m. and stay on retreat until Friday July 4 at 6:30 p.m. I love to have these retreats at least once every year, but this was my first retreat since the beginning of 2007. My intention in planning the retreat was use the time to figure out how to incorporate writing into my days, so that I could finish my book on the Sunwheel and begin writing one on my journey of the last 1-2 years since my diagnosis.

I picked a Rune just before starting the retreat, and it was the Rune of Wholeness, Sowelu, signifying the availability of Life Force, symbolized by the Sun's Energy. I love this Rune -- it looks like a lightning strike, a zigzag. From the Book of Runes, I read familiar words, "Sowelu embodies the impulse toward self-realization, and indicates the path you must follow, not from ulterior motives but from the core of your individuality." I was reminded that:

seeking after wholeness is the quest of the Spiritual Warrior
what you are striving to become in actuality is what, by nature, you already are
become conscious of your essence and bring it into form
a Rune of great power making life force available, Sowelu marks a time of regeneration down to the cellular level
timely retreat is among the skills of a Spiritual Warrior

So the Rune of Wholeness sent me off on my silent retreat, reminding me that timely retreat is among the skills of the Spiritual Warrior. Here it was -- I was taking action and then I was receiving supporting guidance, so I was effectively hearing the guidance before it arrived. That is what I call "Living in Alignment with the Universe."

When I came out of retreat on Friday evening, I saw an animal eating some of my flowers in the back yard, so I ran out into the yard to chase it away. It had the coloring of a rabbit, but I didn't get a good look at it as it ran along the fence. It was then that I discovered a sizable hole and a large amount of dirt under the day lilies in the back of my garden. A creature had burrowed into my flowers and then invited itself to a dinner of wood aster and pholx.

The next morning as I was drinking tea and looking out the window, a crow landed in the yard to watch the cardinals and blue jays and black capped chickadees eat out of the bird feeders. The crow walked around the yard peering this way and that, and then suddenly flew off as the creature wandered into the middle of the yard. I couldn't tell what it was. Its color was light but it wasn't a porcupine because there were no quills. Its shape was large and and a bit flattened but it wasn't a badger because of the coloring. It chewed on some grass, then picked up something from the ground, and as it ate its stance resembled that of a big fat squirrel. I wondered if it was a woodchuck, but didn't really know what one looked like. So I did a Google search on "woodchuck" and up came a picture of the creature I had just seen in the yard. And I learned that woodchuck = groundhog = marmot. I never knew that.

Next thing I did was to go to my book Animal Speak and look up woodchuck/groundhog. This is a burrowing rodent, which symbolically indicates the ability to go deep within an area of interest. In the winter they hibernate for 4 to 6 months, slowing their breathing (to 1 breath per minute), their metabolism, their body temperature (to just above freezing), and their heart rate. Hibernation symbolizes death without dying, and is then symbolically followed by renewal and rebirth. A friend sent me more information about the woodchuck, which is related to the prairie dog. She wrote, "Prairie dog teaches you that, in order to access great gifts of inspiration and renewal, you must be at peace with yourself and rested enough to recognize the blessings being offered. The overall meaning is take a 'retreat'."

So after my retreat, I found a mammal that had come to me to teach me about the value of retreat and renewal in accessing my gifts of inspiration. My intention while on retreat had been to figure out how to make time and space to write, which I did by meditating and then writing. I learned from the woodchuck, after the fact, that being rested and at peace will help me access my gifts of inspiration and renewal. Again, my actions were in sync with the guidance before I received it.

I am just loving living in alignment with the Universe.

Commanding the Universe

2008-07-06T09:32:00.000-07:00

While I was in Arkansas at the Myeloma Institute (see previous post of July 6) I began reading "The Eagle and the Condor", a book by Jonette Crowley about her spiritual/mystical journey. After arriving back home, I was up to the part where Jonette describes a trip she led to Machu Picchu, which included 4 days of hiking along the Inca trail. On about the 3rd day of hiking, the trail was so strenuous that 10 members of the group were having difficulty arriving at the destination -- they still had 1 hour of hiking left as the Sun was setting. As leader of the group, Jonette thought of going back to be with the lagging hikers, but realized that wouldn't really help. Instead she decided to pray, and as she stood up she said aloud to the Universe "I command safety and light for my fellow travelers." As she listened, she heard the mountains reply 'We have waited to be commanded.' What a remarkable concept -- commanding the Universe! And when the lagging travelers did arrive at camp, they said the last hour had been the easiest of the day, as if the trail was lit from below.

So without hesitating, I put down the book and walked outside into my gardens. I prayed aloud to the 4 directions, and then spoke to Great Mystery and the Universe, saying "I command the curing of the cancer in this body." And I didn't tell anyone what I had done.

The next day began as usual for me -- doing PT in bed, then a visualization to bring golden light into every part of my body, and then my morning routine including Yogi Detox tea. I love Yogi tea, especially for the fortunes on the tea bags. And on this morning, the day after I commanded the Universe, my fortune was, "You are unlimited." I was stunned -- not only was this a great fortune, but I saw it as a message back to me from the Universe. Breathe.

About 1 hour later I went onto the front porch to do yoga, and I found a pile of sawdust by the side of the wooden rocking chair. I looked at the underside of the arm of the chair, and there was a round hole about the size of a dime -- I knew it was from a carpenter bee. How I knew, I'm not sure. I've lived in this house for 25 years, and never before had a carpenter bee bore into the furniture. I came inside and looked up Bee in "Animal Speak" and found that it has 2 meanings -- the first is 'fertility' (which was the Rune I had picked the day before), and the second is 'anything is possible'. That got my attention. I left the pile of sawdust on the porch as I digested this message and the last one -- anything is possible, and I am unlimited. It was seeming like commanding the Universe should be as easy as singing a song.

At the end of the day, I had my first Feldenkrais session (gentle bodywork that helps reprogram the nervous system), and at the end of the session the teacher told me the Feldenkrais philosophy -- (1) to make the impossible possible, (2) to make the possible easy, and (3) to make the easy elegant. So here was the message about making the impossible possible, which is a lot like 'anything is possible'. And I would have to say that by the end of the day, the combination of all the messages I got was astoundingly wonderful. First I commanded my curing, and then I got so many independent messages that anything is possible, that I was humbled. And excited.

A few days later I was on my hands and knees in the garden, and I heard something (plant, tree, or rock) say to me, "If you are going to command the Universe, you need to live in different relation to All That Is. Like asking permission to prune a tree, or pick a flower, or pick up a stone." And I remembered that when I was in Montana for my vision quest and picked sage, I offered tobacco first. But I am not used to this was of being here at home. So I need to remind myself of a new way to be in my garden. And in general. More respectful of all Life, and asking permission before I do things. The next day, when the Daily OM came over e-mail, it was the one about conscious gardening and asking permission, the same message I received in the garden. I had gotten the message through my intuition before it came over e-mail.

That same day, I was thinking about the Divine in All Things, which I believe there is. And also that the Divine can do miracles, which I also believe. So here is my question to all of you -- if the Divine can do miracles, and there is Divinity in each of us, why can't WE do miracles? Why don't we? After reading Jonette Crowley's story, it seems so obvious to me -- we should all be able to command the Universe, and we should all be capable of consciously creating miracles. Is it just that we think miracles will come from the outside, and we don't know that we can command
them?

Since the day I commanded the Universe, I have noticed that coincidences are much more frequent in my life (now several per day rather than several per week), and animal visitations are more common. Two days ago when I went out into the garden, a beautiful dragonfly flew to the leaf of a phlox plant in front of me. I watched for several minutes, and then moved slowly around the garden. The dragonfly followed me, first to the iris, then to the roses, then to the lilies, and then I decided to get my camera. Of course, when I got back to the garden the dragonfly was gone -- until I stood by the daylilies, and who should appear but the dragonfly!

In "Animal Speak", dragonfly means 'the power of light', so it is interesting the dragonfly came to me the week of the summer solstice, that time of maximum light, and also when I am being diligent about the visualization where I bring a golden light into my body. Dragonfly means "Illusion" in the Medicine Cards, so I reflected on the thought that Life is an illusion, and I asked dragonfly how to create a new illusion. Like the one where the cancer in my body is cured. Dragonfly told me that I need to let go of the old illusion to make room for the new one. Like letting go of personal history, according to Carlos Castaneda. So I closed my eyes and focused on letting go of the illusion that today will be like yesterday. Letting go of the thought that the pain in my body will be as it has been. I did my best to erase personal history. And when I opened my eyes, the dragonfly was gone.

Time for Spine Surgery

2008-07-06T09:06:00.000-07:00

Just 2 months ago at the beginning of May, I made a radical decision. I decided I needed back surgery to help stabilize my spine -- an outpatient procedure called kyphoplasty. I had shrunk 3" in the lumbar and thoracic spine region over the last year, bringing my lowest rib on the left side to be in contact with my pelvis. Not only was it uncomfortable (I could feel the pressure on my ribs themselves and also in the middle of my back), but it seemed to me to be an unhealthy condition since the pelvis was not meant to support the rib cage.

I contacted my oncologist, who set up a consult with an orthopedic surgeon, but the consult was 1 month away, and then there would be tests, and then another appointment, and then scheduling the procedure, and to me it looked like the end of the summer before I would get help. I needed the surgery in May, not in August.

Kyphoplasty is a procedure that is usually used on older people with osteoporosis to help with the pain of spinal compression fractures. The surgeon inserts a needle into a collapsed vertebra, blows up a balloon to help the vertebra regain it's original shape, removes the balloon, and then fills the space with cement. With this procedure, the pain of a fractured vertebra is relieved, and when the vertebrae have regained their original shape, the spine regains it's more natural shape. Untreated compression fractures make the spine curve forward, because the fractures are often on the front side of the vertebrae. I had so many compression fractures that I had completely lost the lumbar curve in my spine.

At first I was hesitant to contemplate the surgery, but after talking to people who were helped instantly, I realized it would probably help me. However, I wanted the surgery in May, not in August. So I made another radical decision. I would go to the Myeloma Institute in Little Rock, Arkansas to become a patient. This is one of the best places in the world to be treated for multiple myeloma -- that is all they do at the Institute. And the Institute is associated with the University of Arkansas Medical Center, so there is ready access to a highly experienced surgeon who has performed over 1,000 kyphoplasty procedures. I knew from the Myeloma Institute web site that they would be able to have me visit with 2-4 weeks, and during that time I would have 5 days of testing. I also knew, from speaking to a friend who was treated there, that during my week-long visit I would be able to have kyphoplasty on my collapsed vertebrae.

So I called the Institute and made the week-long appointment for my visit to Little Rock, Arkansas at the end of May. This would be my first plane flight in 18 months, and I knew it would be a challenge. I am used to lying down several times each day, and I also recline from sitting vertically by afternoon. To fly would mean no lying down until night when we arrived in Little Rock, and only minimal reclining. So the way I managed was to take the maximum amount of pain medication that my prescription allowed, bring my lumbar pillow, and to move slowly and carefully. I brought a cane to help if walking became difficult, and I was able to get on the airplanes early since it took me a long time to get arranged and comfortable.

My mother an my partner came with me to Arkansas. It was a grueling time -- a trip of 12 days, with 2 days of traveling, 2 days off over Memorial Day weekend, and medical appointments and procedures during 8 days. In retrospect, it was interesting to be totally steeped in the Western medical establishment, as was the case during my entire time at the Myeloma Institute. I believe so strongly in the combination of Western medicine and complimentary therapies (like homeopathy, meditation, and acupuncture) that something big was missing for me in their approach to healing cancer in Arkansas. At least here at home, I engage in a wide range of therapies to increase my health.

In Little Rock, spending time in the Medical Center each day was totally draining -- it felt like the life was being sucked out of us. I meditated during the 2 hour MRI and PET scans, and that was wonderful, had full body X-rays and a bone marrow biopsy, and I now have the most photographed body in Western Massachusetts, on the inside, anyway. More blood (25 tubes the first day) was taken than I have ever experienced, and during the medical tests I was poked with more needles than I care to remember. The bone marrow biopsy left me feeling for weeks like someone kicked me hard in the right hip.

The good news -- I did have back surgery, on the last 2 days I was there. The surgeon could only treat 4 vertebrae per day, so I was scheduled for 2 days of surgery to have kyphoplasty on my lowest 8 vertebrae -- lumbar L1-5, and thoracic T10-12. The MRI showed 15 compression fractures in my spine, and the surgeon told me he could help me and even restore some of my lost height (although that hasn't happened yet). So I willingly consented.

The surgery is outpatient, so after 2 hours of surgery and 2 hours of recovery I was sent home each day (and slept). In total, with 8 vertebrae treated, I came back to Amherst with 8 band aids on my back. My back was sore afterwards, but I have noticed that my spine has regained the lumbar curve and I have less pain in my back. I have also noticed that my muscles inside are quite tight in response to the expanded vertebrae (the muscles have had 10 months to shorten). I am not yet much taller, but I am on a course of regular acupuncture and Feldenkrais body work, which may help my muscles lengthen as much as an inch. Then I'll be 4'11"...

The miracle for me now is that I am quite healthy looking and feeling. When I stay present to each moment, I feel strong and clear -- I am grateful to be alive, love being in my gardens, and have a deep yearning to create and give my gifts to the world. This trip to Arkansas taught me that I can travel by plane, and that I can sleep in a regular bed. So I have now given up sleeping in the lift chair after 10 months of sleeping away from my honey. Yeah!!!! This may be one of the best things to have come from the trip!

The journey just keeps going on and on ... and life is definitely rich.

My Goji Juice Story

2008-07-04T19:23:00.001-07:00

This post continues the saga of my healing journey following the spinal collapse I experienced 1 year ago. The serious symptoms of spinal collapse began on Sunday June 17, 2007, when I was taken by ambulance to the ER because my legs collapsed under me. I couldn't stand, I couldn't sit, and my back was contracted in uncontrollable muscle spasms. At the ER, their approach was to give me pain medication and send me home when I could walk later that day.

I called a spine doctor then next day, and made an appointment -- 2 weeks later was the soonest they could see me. I didn't know how I was going to survive those two weeks until the end of June. I needed a walker and could no longer walk without support. I had so much difficulty walking up stairs that I slept on the couch at night. I was told to move as much as possible -- that immobility breeds immobility -- so I made sure to get up from the couch in the morning, to walk in the house with the walker, to sit at the table and answer e-mail, and to lie down when I needed to rest.

The hardest part for me was that I had these uncontrollable and painfully intense contractions of my back muscles, called back spasms. Every time I would get up in the morning (which took 30 to 45 minutes to maneuver myself carefully off the couch to a standing position), and every time I would get up from lying down to rest, no matter how careful I was I would eventually have a back spasm. And just like with a sad movie that I cry while watching, in retelling this story now and remembering the details of my life 1 year ago, I cry tears of grief now that I didn't cry then because then I was trying so hard just to survive.

I now know that my back muscles were doing 2 things -- they were trying to protect my spine, and spasming was their way of trying to keep the spine immobile (but I didn't pay attention, since the doctors told me to move). Also, I learned from my oncologist that muscles tend to spasm when they experience extremely high levels of calcium, such as when the bones are breaking down rapidly. The blood registers this condition as hypercalcemia, and in early July 2007 -- just 1 year ago -- my blood showed that I did have hypercalcemia. The breaking down of bones is a symptom of multiple myeloma, and for me the hypercalcemia and condition of my back indicated that I needed treatment.

On the first Friday in July 2007 I went to see my oncologist following an MRI of my lower back and pelvis. Just getting the MRI had been hell, because it meant lying on a hard surface (which gave me back spasms). And at the end of 1 and 1/2 hours when I asked for help getting up, the technicians had no patience for my need to move slowly and they lifted and turned me. My back arched in spasm, and I could barely walk to the waiting room. I was pale as a ghost and didn't leave the waiting room for 30 minutes as I waited for my body to recover from the trauma. Needless to say, I don't want to go there for an MRI again.

So on this visit to my oncologist in early July, he indicated that it was time for me to start getting chemotherapy, and it would start that day with dexamethasone, a steriod that is part of the protocol for cheomtherapy treatment of multiple myeloma. I was aware that long term use of steroids can cause osteoporosis, and for me bone health is a serious concern, but I needed treatment so I cooperated with my oncologist's suggestions. If it would help, I would do it.

As my partner and I left the hospital that day, there was a woman waiting by the door with a big black dog. We were waiting for our car from valet parking, and also waiting for ice for my ice pack that I used on my back during the drive to the cancer center. This woman was waiting for ice for her black dog, named Shadow of the Thunder Beings, since it was a hot July day. When the valet parking assistant arrived with a cup of ice, it was not in a form that would be helpful to me, so we gave it to the dog. Then the woman came over to me and said, "You look like a person who would be open to alternative treatments," to which I replied, "Yes, I am." She then said only 2 words, "Goji juice."

I laughed inside. I had never heard of Goji juice until 3 days earlier when my friend Batya came for a visit and offered me 2 suggestions that have changed my life. First, she suggested that I drink Goji juice. Batya herself had been drinking Goji juice for several months, and found that she slept well, had more energy, and her acupuncturist noticed her increased health. Batya offered me a gift of 2 bottles of Goji juice that she would leave on her back porch. Second, she suggested that I get a recliner so I would not have to get up from lying down. When I told her that being a small person (at that point just 5' tall) I didn't want a recliner that would fit a large person, she told me that she knew they made reclining chairs in small sizes. I began searching the internet that day.

And that reminds me of an aside that I just have to include here. Using my computer, I did a Google search on the words "reclining chair that ejects the sitter" to which Google responded: Do you mean reclining chair that executes the sitter? Executes -- do you believe it? I was in hysterics reading that, except that I couldn't laugh or I would have a back spasm. I learned to laugh inside, to smile instead of laugh. I told everyone in my family that story, and they laughed for me. Needless to say, I did find a reclining chair that ejects (not executes) the sitter. But that was a few weeks later.

So here I was at the hospital in early July, and this woman with a long flowing dress and beautiful earrings said the words "Goji juice" to me, and I laughed inside. Her dog came to sit by my feet on the pavement -- he was a healing dog, and I remember his name because my first dog ever had been a golden retriever named Shadow who had died just 18 months earlier. I said to this woman that 2 times in 1 week was enough for me -- I didn't need a 3rd person to mention Goji juice for me to be convinced to try it. And that night, after Gene picked up all of my new prescriptions, I sent her to Batya's house to get my Goji juice, and I have been drinking it ever since.

I have tried several kinds of Gogi juice, and the kind I like is Himalayan Goji Juice. It was discovered to have great health benefits because people in the Himalayas who drank water from wells that goji berries were falling into tended to live unusually long lives. Himalayan Goji Juice has 34 scientifically validated health benefits, including that it increases your energy and strength, extends your life, helps you look and feel younger, lowers your blood pressure, helps you lose weight, reduces the toxic effects of chemotherapy, improves the immune response, and manages and fights cancer. I especially liked the part about reducing the toxic effects of chemo, as I was getting ready to start chemo, so I began drinking 4 oz. of Goji juice per day. That was last July.

Then a few months ago a friend suggested that I might find it helpful to drink 8 oz. of Goji juice per day, given my health challenges and that I am trying to rebuild my spine. I said I really didn't want the extra calories of drinking more juice -- I was having trouble shedding any weight -- and she said that some people found that they lost weight when they drank more Goji juice. So I upped my intake, and 2 wonderful things happened. I lost 7 pounds that first week I drank 8 oz. per day, and my bowel became much more regular. For me, having shrunk 3" mostly between my pelvis and rib cage, there is less room for all of my internal organs, so emptying my bowel every day is now a necessity.

In fact, I like Goji juice so much that I have become a distributor. Here is my Goji juice web site http://www.youngberry.freelife.com/ and you will also find my contact information on the above link.

Last month when my mother spent 12 days with us, she commented on how much energy I have and how fast I was walking, even though my spine is healing from compression fractures in 15 vertebrae. I have more energy than either my mother or my partner. And while I can't tell what one of the many things I am doing is contributing the most to my energy, I am sure that a significant part of my great store of energy is due to the fact that I am and have been for the last year been drinking Goji juice.

In fact, Goji juice has probably contributed to the miracle that I am alive today.

The Wind and Healing

2008-06-26T14:24:00.000-07:00

Next time you are outside and the wind blows, notice your stance with regard to the wind. Allow the wind to blow past you. Feel the force of the wind. Allow it to caress your face. Notice how some trees bend to the energy of the wind, and others stand firm. There is no need to resist the wind, to tense your body in response to it. It is simply the wind blowing past.

You need not make the wind a part of you. You need not identify with the wind. You need not fight it or hold onto the fact that the wind is blowing. If it blew yesterday, it may or may not blow today. It arrived, and it will leave. For the wind is energy in motion, and it has no authority over your life.

Now see what it feels like to apply these same concepts about the wind to cancer or some other health condition.

Allow it to blow past you.
Feel its energy.
There is no need to resist it, to tense your body in response to it.
Do not fight it.
Do not identify with it or hold onto it.
Do not make it a part of you.
It arrived, and it can leave.
For it is simply energy in motion and it has no authority over your life.

Pick one of these statements, and try spending a day playing with it in regards to your health situation. Like the first one -- Allow it to blow past you. Notice if you think that a diagnosis means 'here to stay', and that you have already made it part of you, and are holding onto it. Work with the image of allowing the energy to blow past you. Allow it in, allow it out. Let go of the concept 'here to stay'. Unless of course that is what you consciously want. I suspect not -- let that one go.

You are at choice here in terms of what you believe. Allow the energies of Life to blow through you, but do not give them permission to stay. They may be welcome for a time, there may be important lessons for you to learn, and then it will be time for these energies to leave.

Welcoming Summer -- At the U.Mass. Sunwheel

2008-06-23T17:58:00.000-07:00

For the past decade for me, Summer Solstice has meant being at the Sunwheel for sunrise and sunset and offering teachings to the public. The Sunwheel is a stone circle calendar, located on the campus of the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, which I began constructing in 1992. Since the year 2000, the Sunwheel contains 14 standing stones, 8'-10' tall, marking the cardinal directions, the solstice sunrise and sunset directions, and the northern and southern extremes of moonrise and moonset. The Sunwheel enables people to experience the sky, through observing the changing direction to the sunrise and sunset throughout the year. At each Solstice and Equinox, I invite the general public to join me to witness the Sun rising and setting at the Sunwheel, to participate in the experience of the seasons. And since 1997, there have been 9,000 people attending the seasonal sunrise and sunset gatherings, and over 25,000 visitors to the Sunwheel overall.

The beginning of each season is a high energy time for me, full of anticipation, and one in which I feel like I am doing part of my soul's work. Also exhausting, with the Summer Solstice sunrise gathering at 5 a.m., and so much excitement inside me that sleep comes slowly. This year, I had the added element of having been unable to lead the gatherings 1 year ago, so I was coming home. I felt so grateful to be so much better physically than I was 1 year ago, that I was crying tears of joy during dinner Friday evening before going to the Sunwheel. I was unable to eat, as the anticipation mounted.

I never know how many people will come to the Sunwheel for the gatherings -- it depends on the temperature, the day of the week, and how cloudy or rainy or sunny the day has been. The Friday night, June 20, weather was cooler than normal, below 70 degrees at 7 p.m., but the sky was mostly clear and beautiful. In all, 84 people came to the Sunwheel to witness the sunset on Friday, and a total of 192 people attended the gatherings on Friday and Saturday. The crowds at the Sunwheel are always a mix -- people I know and people I don't, people who are new to the Sunwheel and people who are regulars, adults and children, & people who can stand and people who need to sit.

This Solstice, I shared the astronomy of the seasons, the story of building the Sunwheel and being inspired by a Sunwheel on former Blackfeet Indian territory in Montana, and a bit of my personal story including the collapse of my spine and year long recovery. I told people it broke my heart to not be present last Summer Solstice at the Sunwheel, and that I was incredibly grateful to be with them now, in 2008. Together we saw a beautiful sunset, then lit candles to bring in even more light at this light-filled time. These candles were placed on the stones around the Sunwheel -- as darkness set in the extra light made the site look magical!

There was a huge and wonderfully surprising outpouring of love and gratitude from the Sunwheel visitors to me that I will never forget -- people I didn't know hugged and kissed me, told me how happy they were that I was well, glad I was able to be back at the Sunwheel leading the gatherings. I was incredibly moved.

Saturday morning was definitely a stretch for me, getting up at 4:15 a.m. & heading right to the Sunwheel without doing the physical therapy I have been so diligent about doing first thing every morning for 10 months. But a friend was in from out of town, and I told her I would be at the Sunwheel for sunrise, so I went. It felt so familiar -- the quiet of the morning, the damp stillness of the air before sunrise, the sounds of the birds, the smell of damp Earth. And even though it was cloudy, 25 people came for the largest summer solstice sunrise gathering I remember (beginning at 5 a.m., after all).

For the past 7 years -- ever since the tall stones have been at the Sunwheel -- on the morning of the Summer Solstice there has been a red-winged blackbird atop the 10' tall Summer Solstice Sunrise stone AT sunrise. The first year I saw this sight I photographed it, and then year after year the bird (or another) reappeared. Even last year when I was at home, the student who led the gatherings in my place saw and photographed the red-winged blackbird atop the Summer Solstice sunrise stone at sunrise. I always tell people about the bird, and people came to the sunrise gathering to see it. The bird did show up on Saturday morning, but this year it sat atop the 9' tall North stone, the 2nd tallest stone in the circle. It showed up over and over, flying away, and coming back, always landing on the North stone. Avoiding the 10' tall Solstice sunrise stone.

Saturday evening, after a warm and cloudy afternoon, 67 people came to the Sunwheel for sunset. Again it was wonderful, connecting with the people and with the Universe to witness the start of this season of summer. The crowd stayed until 9:15 p.m., when it was so dark that we could no longer see anything other than the candles lighting the stones. And the huge surprise that evening was around sunset someone cried, "There's a hawk on the Summer Solstice sunrise stone." Sure enough, a large bird had landed on the tallest stone at the Sunwheel, and I got a glimpse of it before it flew away. It was very surprising that it landed so close to so many people (it was only ~30 feet away from us). Probably looking for live prey, and we looked a bit too big.

But now I think I know what happened to the red-winged blackbird. It had lost the territorial battle with the hawk, and had to settle for the 2nd tallest Sunwheel stone in the North, not the tallest stone marking the Summer Solstice sunrise.

There is so much more than astronomy that happens at the Sunwheel. A Universe in a circle. All because of love. Love for All That Is.

To learn more about the Sunwheel, click here.
To view the Sunwheel Photo Gallery, click here.
To view the Summer Solstice 2008 photos taken by Sunwheel visitor Steve Fratoni, click here.

The Purpose of Life

2008-06-09T18:23:00.000-07:00

Today, for the second time in a month, I received the same saying on the tea bag when I had my morning cup of Yogi Detox Tea. The saying was, "The purpose of life is to enjoy every moment." Just think, all one needs to do is drink tea, and the mysteries of life are revealed.

The first time I got this fortune, I taped it to my computer. Now, every time I sit down to check my e-mail or check the weather, I am reminded of the purpose of life, to enjoy every moment. What a wonderful idea!

I guess it has never been entirely clear to me what the purpose of life is. In my adult life and spiritual exploration, I have come across a number of books that touch on the purpose of life and present ideas which resonate with my own knowing. In Neale Donald Walsch's Conversations with God, the idea is expressed that we are here to be Who We Are, and that in fact we were created in order that God could turn concept into experience. God knew of God's magnificence intellectually, but only through experience could God know God's self experientially. Thus, our very purpose for being is to turn God's concept of magnificence into experience.

In a more recent book by Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth, the idea is expressed that there are 3 modes of what he calls 'enlightened doing'. These modes are acceptance, enjoyment, and enthusiasm. Just imagine -- if everything that everyone did involved either ecceptance, enjoyment, or enthusiasm, what a different place the world would be.

So the fortune on my tea bag today relates to one of these 3 modes of enlightened doing -- enjoyment. Enjoyment brings with it a beautiful energy, an energy that goes beyond acceptance. The energy of enjoyment also goes beyond happiness -- it sends joy out into the world. And joy expressed is inspiring.

Imagine enjoying every moment of life! Every day. Every situation. Every thought. Every encounter. It would transform the world to have just one person who enjoyed every moment. Because the energy of joy is uplifting -- it is impossible to have an encounter with joy and not be changed.

So, if the purpose of life is to enjoy every moment, that sounds a lot like living joyfully with what is. Of course, enjoying every moment sounds like a tall order, so I think I'll just start with this one.

Spinal Collapse

2008-06-07T18:38:00.000-07:00

I had never known anyone who had spinal collapse, nor had I know anyone who had compression fractures in their vertebrae. And even though I had been diagnosed with multiple myeloma, I never expected spinal collapse to happen, nor did I expect it to come on so suddenly. My father had multiple myeloma also -- he was diagnosed in March 2002 (and died in January 2008) -- but he never had any bone problems. In June of 2007 I was 5'1" tall, and 1 month later I had shrunk 2 inches.

For those with multiple myeloma, serious complications occur as the cancerous plasma cells collect in the bone marrow. There, these cells disrupt the normal biological processes like the production of red blood cells (often causing anemia), and the cancerous plasma cells also disrupt the process of bone building. With multiple myeloma, bone building is slowed and bone breaking down is sped up. If the bone breakdown affects the spinal vertebrae, it can lead to spinal collapse.

For me, shrinking suddenly was just the outward manifestation of spinal collapse. The inward manifestations were continuous pain, excruciating muscle spasms, and a great deal of difficulty moving. I was unable to walk upstairs, so I began sleeping on the couch. I was unable to care for myself in the simplest ways -- I couldn't
dress myself, reach with my arms, shower, or wipe myself after using the toilet. Luckily, my daughter Laura was able to stay and take care of me for the entire summer, as she was preparing for her wedding, and planning to visit regularly anyway. I was sorry that she faced what few 24 year olds have faced, in terms of caring for her mother, but I was extremely grateful to her for being so devoted and loving. It seemed somehow prophetic that she was so close by my side for so many weeks just before she was married. The only other time she was so close to me for so long was the 9 months before she was born.

Beginning in June 2007, I would sleep on the living room couch, and Laura slept on the floor next to me. At whatever hour in the middle of the night I needed to go to the bathroom, she would get up to help me. And it would take me from 30-45 minutes to get up from lying down each time I got up, trying to move so that my spine stayed mostly straight, and trying to move so that I didn't trigger any muscle spasms. I can honestly say that the first month of spinal collapse, before I received any treatment, was living hell.

With so much difficulty moving, I stayed home from mid-June through mid-July except to see doctors and have medical tests done. My contact with the world outside of my immediate family was through the visits, phone calls, and e-mail. I am very grateful for e-mail, because I was able to maintain contact with a wide network of friends and family who prayed for me, sent me love, support, healing energy and uplifting messages. I am also grateful for the devotion of friends at the Jewish Community of Amherst, who conducted a healing circle for me, visited, cooked and delivered meals, and came to offer their love and support. I welcomed all the help that was offered.

I didn't realize at first that what had happened to my back was caused by the cancer, and several doctors in the area were convinced that my problems were not related to the multiple myeloma. Luckily for me, though, my oncologist did realize that the symptoms I was displaying were from the myeloma, and that it was time for chemo to begin. So in mid-July 2007 I went to the hospital for my first introduction to chemotherapy treatment of multiple myeloma.

Chemotherapy consisted of Velcade, Thalidomide, and Dexamethasone, each on its own prescribed schedule, but all 3 were administered on the 1st day. And all 3 are constipating, to me anyway. By the 5th day, my bowel had shut down. So on the night of July 24, 2007, which was Gene's and my anniversary, we called the ambulance to take me to the ER. I remember leaving the house on a chair that I was strapped to, and it was tilted back as I was carried down the sidewalk. I exclaimed with delight as I saw the stars in the clear sky above me -- I hadn't seen the stars yet that summer.

It was a long night in the ER. Dinner had nowhere to go. Four enemas and 1 suppository later, the doctors still could not get my intestines moving. I was in intense pain from my back, and now my digestive system was shutting down. Living was not only no longer fun, but it was just too hard. I was at a place where I didn't care if I died that night -- and it breaks my heart to recall that I had lost my will to live. I was in a stupor, either from the pain meds, or the chemo, or the toxicity of my body, and I recall going in and out of consciousness, until at one point in the wee hours of the morning I turned to Gene and said, "I decided to stay."

So I made the conscious decision to heal. I wanted to dance at my daughter's wedding. I wanted to see my grandchildren. I wanted to live. But it has been a very long road, healing this body with a collapsed spine. It has taken a level of courage and patience and strength and perseverance that I didn't know I had. But then that is another story.

The Mystery of the Disappearing Bloodroot

2008-05-11T19:47:00.000-07:00

I love to watch the flowers come up in the early spring. As the snow melts, and I clear away leaves and stalks from last year's garden, I look closely for all signs of green growth. The first plants to flower in my garden each year are the Snow Drops. If the snow melts early, or the snow cover is slight, I can spot the Snow Drops in January as tiny green shoots, and by mid-February these become lovely white flowers dangling from 6" tall stalks. The next to flower are the Crocuses, and knowing where they are all planted, I watch daily as they emerge from the ground and the buds acquire color and then open. The bees also know where they are all planted, and there is an audible hum on that first warm day each April when the bees visit the sea of purple and white which the Crocus create as they open.

A favorite flower of mine that also blooms early in spring is Bloodroot. I don't remember when it first appeared in my garden, whether is was a volunteer or a plant I purchased, but I have had Bloodroot growing in the woodland area of my garden for about 10 years. It has a single beautiful leaf, and a mature plant produces a second stalk with a single beautiful daisy-like flower, 4-5" tall, which opens in the warm sunlight and closes each night. The flower lasts only about 3 days, at which point the the petals fall off and the flower begins to go to seed. Because of these seeds, Bloodroot multiplies well where it is happy, and it has been multiplying in my garden for the last decade. What started as a few specimens grew to over 50 flowering plants last year.

This year, as I watched spring unfold, I eagerly kept an eye out for the Bloodroot. While this was my usual way to greet spring, what was unusual for me this spring was that I had been unable to garden last summer. In fact, I had been unable to walk, to bend, or even to care for myself in the most basic ways due to a serious flaring up of cancer -- multiple myeloma -- which had settled in my bones and caused my spine to collapse. My treatment began in July 2007, and I responded well to it. Now, after 10 months of chemo, physical therapy, and training my muscles to work again, I am able to walk, bend, reach, care for myself, and even garden. It is such a blessing to have the use of my body again, and especially to be able to bend down and touch the Earth as I garden.

So I kept looking for the Bloodroot this spring, and I never found it. Oh, there were many tiny leaves of Bloodroot, probably from the seeds which resulted from recent years' flowers, but the 2 big clumps of flowers which grew in my yard under the hemlock tree were gone. I kept watching and waiting for the beautiful white flowers to appear, and then I did what any respectable gardener would do -- I went to the internet and searched for information on "Bloodroot that disappears suddenly." What I learned was amazing.

First, I learned that the name 'Bloodroot' comes from the reddish orange juice that exudes from the root of the plant. And second, I found that Bloodroot is used medicinally to treat a number of things (including cancer), as well as to purify the blood. This is very interesting to me, because multiple myeloma is a form of blood cancer, and if I needed anything last summer it was certainly for my blood to be purified! Pam Montgomery, an herbalist who I was privileged to learn from on several occasions, teaches that the plants which venture into our gardens are the ones which we need for our health. And conversely, it makes sense to me that the sudden disappearance of a plant can mean that it is no longer needed.

So rather than be disappointed at the disappearance of the Bloodroot in my garden, I found that I was stunned and amazed and hopeful and grateful that this plant had communicated to me of my healing. My blood was already purified from chemo, and I was on the road to health! Thank you, Bloodroot, and thank you, Universe, for the message. I got it.

25 Good Things About My Diagnosis

2008-05-10T20:44:00.000-07:00

Within 12 hours of being diagnosed with cancer on July 25, 2006, I began creating a list of the good things about my diagnosis. That first day I was able to identify 5 good things. After another day, I had listed 10 good things. After another week I had found 18 good things. And after a month, my list had expanded to the 25 good things about my diagnosis.

For the first year following the diagnosis, I had no symptoms of multiple myeloma (cancer of the blood plasma) other than anemia and low immunity. Then very suddenly, in June 2007, I experienced a serious eruption of the myeloma, and my spine began to collapse. It was then -- in the midst of pain, grief, and inability to move and care for myself -- that I turned to my own list of the 25 good things about my diagnosis for inspiration.

What follows here is my list of "The 25 Good Things About My Diagnosis".

1) TREATMENT -- The most challenging part of recent months has been my low energy and low immunity. Being treated for the anemia could only happen with a cancer diagnosis, so for that I am grateful.

2) CLARITY -- With a diagnosis of cancer, it becomes clear that using time wisely is of highest priority. It becomes clear what to say yes to, what to say no to, and how to spend my time. It becomes clear to me that spending time with friends and family is of highest priority. And it becomes clear that taking care of myself is also of highest priority.

3) GRATITUDE -- Being so face to face with my mortality makes me very grateful for all the gifts in my life -- for family, for friends, for my beautiful gardens, for our golden retriever puppy Goldie, for all the support and caring that is coming my way, and for being alive on this beautiful day. For me, a continuous stance of gratitude brings with it an open-heartedness that is often accompanied by tears of overwhelm, and I am grateful to feel so full. [I am also grateful for gratitude.]

4) BEING PRESENT -- With no clear idea of what the future holds, I am guided to keep my attention focused in the present moment. It is impossible for me to know the course of this multiple myeloma in my body, so worry is futile. In the words of Benjamin Franklin, "Worrying about something that hasn't happened yet is like paying interest on a loan that you haven't taken out." Much better to live in the present.

5) HOPE -- Multiple myeloma treatments are getting better, and there are people who live more than 20 years after diagnosis -- so I am filled with hope.

6) CONNECTION -- I am more connected to family and friends with this new vulnerability, and I value that connection. I wouldn't have chosen this as the reason for connection, but since it is here, I accept the resulting connections as wonderful.

7) OPTIMISM and REFRAMING -- I am honing my skill at looking on the positive side of things! I have always been an optimistic person, so this skill isn't new, just the challenging situation I am applying my outlook to. When I walk into the garden and look at the beauty of my roses, I don't first look at the thorns. I know the thorns are there, but I look at and see the beauty of the flowers.

8) ACCEPTANCE -- Learning acceptance has been a challenge for me at times. This acceptance is allowing the present to be what it is, without needing to change it. Now, I find that acceptance of what my blood is doing is what I am called to do. In this acceptance, I also remember that it is important to take every action possibleto effect healing, but in this moment, I embrace all of me, including the cancer.

9) UNCONDITIONAL LOVE -- A diagnosis of cancer brings me face to face with the concept and expression of unconditional love. That love is expressed to me continuously by family and friends. I ask myself, "Can I love everything about myself, including the cancer? Can I offer myself truly unconditional love?" I'm working on it.

10) SLOWING DOWN -- The fatigue and anemia I have been experiencing has caused me to slow down over the past 6 months, and now taking care of myself -- remembering to drink at least 64 oz. of liquids each day (and keeping track of my fluid intake), remembering to take my vitamins, remembering to take my flax oil and flax seed -- all of this reinforces the notion of slowing down. I am not in a race, and I do love to stop and smell the flowers, to stop and watch the Sun set, or stop and watch the Moon rise, so slowing down is a gift that helps me enjoy the present moment.

11) SPIRITUALITY -- My spiritual practice (prayer, meditation, yoga, reading inspirational literature, and living mindfully) has been an important part of my life for the past 16 years. Now I find that this practice is no longer practice -- it provides a foundation for my way of being with my new reality. I am grateful for the time and the opportunity to seek even deeper wisdom and guidance that will help support me on my path.

12) COURAGE -- It is said that courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to act in spite of fear. My cancer diagnosis has shown me a level of courage that I didn't know I had, to face and move through obstacles, and then to do the next right thing. To have found and experienced this well of courage within me has been a surprising gift.

13) POWER OF MIND TO HEAL -- It is well known that there is a strong connection between the mind and healing, and that there is enormous power in the mind to heal. After all, what is the placebo effect if not the mind engaged in healing the body when medical intervention has been in word only? I am thrilled to have this opportunity to explore the power of my mind to heal -- this exercise is in no way theoretical, because of both my interest in the subject and the importance of the outcome to me.

14) COMPASSION -- A diagnosis of cancer instills in me a deeper sense of compassion for human suffering and understanding of the human condition and human experience. This compassion stems not only from the intellectual realization of the universality of human frailty and illness, but from the experience as well.

15) EMPATHY -- Given my cancer diagnosis, I now have greater understanding of what it is to face cancer, and empathy for those who do.

16) SELF-REALIZATION is not to be put off.

17) SERVICE -- Being of service takes on new meaning when I can inspire others from the stance of being a cancer patient myself -- sharing wisdom, teaching the power of optimism and hope. I look forward to teaching meditation workshops for cancer patients and their families, and helping people create peace of spirit and ease of heart.

18) FREEDOM to do what is best for me, without guilt, is empowering.

19) MEDICAL LEAVE, with time off to take care of myself, is a great gift.

20) WILLINGNESS – I find that I am blessed with the strength and willingness to do what is needed to take care of myself. I am learning an enormous amount about the body and about nutrition, and I willingly apply what I learn to my own situation.

21) LIFE’S RICHNESS – To experience life’s richness is a gift beyond measure, including both the joys and the sorrows. The moments of my life are becoming deeper and richer, and even when the moment is one of sadness, I recognize that this is the stuff of life. I am grateful that my capacity to experience life’s richness is expanding.

22) PLAYFULNESS (and even a bit of REBELLIOUSNESS) – I find myself spending more time being playful, given that I have no idea what life has in store for me. I also feel a bit rebellious that I am finding so many good things about my diagnosis. As the saying goes, “Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.”

23) PEACEFULNESS surrounds me as I live with acceptance.

24) EMBRACING LIFE – Being able to live joyfully with what is -– now that is a very good thing.

25) CURIOSITY is leading me to search for more good things about my diagnosis, and I have faith that I will be able to figure out what they are.

The Beginning of this Blog

2008-05-06T18:06:00.000-07:00

This is my first post to "Living Joyfully With What Is". How exciting!!! And what a JOY.

For me, it all begins with gratitude -- living joyfully, that is. Of course, living joyfully with cancer can be a great challenge, and it is at times. And yet, none of us know what lies ahead in life, although we may sometimes act as if we will live indefinitely. We all face challenges, and all of us have the capacity to embrace these challenges, to see the lessons in them, to act with love and acceptance, and to embrace our lives with joy.

This spring, I am filled with gratitude. Gratitude for being alive, for being able to walk, to bend, to touch the Earth, and to tend my gardens. Gratitude for the beauty of my gardens, for the warmth of the Sun, for beautiful flowers and trees. Gratitude for the baby squirrels in our yard. Gratitude for the hawk cries which pierce the afternoon. Gratitude for all the gifts that surround me.

In addition to gratitude, for me living joyfully involves acceptance, which means allowing the present moment be what it is, without resistance. Acceptance does not equal complacency, for I can always endeavor to improve what I choose, but acceptance removes struggle. It allows ease and peace.

I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma 2 years ago, in July of 2006. Multiple myeloma is a cancer of the blood's plasma cells, so it is throughout my body. My life since being diagnosed has felt like a roller coaster at times, especially physically and emotionally. My daily spiritual practice -- prayer, yoga and meditation -- has helped sustain me through this time, along with the love and attention of family and friends. And in spite of this serious physical condition that I face, I feel joy every day. Just as I would be gentle, compassionate and loving toward a friend with this diagnosis, I choose to be gentle, compassionate and loving toward myself. There is no war inside of me. I choose peace. I choose gratitude. I choose acceptance.

Within 12 hours of receiving my diagnosis of cancer, I began a list of the good things about my diagnosis. I expanded the list as the days went by, and by September of 2006 I had a list entitled "The Twenty-Five Good Things About My Diagnosis". I will share this list in my next post to this blog. Suffice it to say that I have shared this list with family and friends, and many have found my words inspiring and shared them with others who face great physical challenges.

Sixteen year ago, on Mother's Day of 1992, my daughter Laura named me "Joyous Judy". I know we are not usually named by our children, but then Laura is not a typical daughter. I loved the name "Joyous Judy", and it stuck. Through the years it has served as a reminder to me of Who I Am.

And if I have learned one enormously important lesson about Who I Am from having cancer, it is this: I am not my body.