The Wind and Healing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.