Thanksgiving '07
On this day of thanks, I feel a bit more at peace than I have in a while. Perhaps it’s the lengthy, unbroken sleep I enjoyed last nite, the fine sunny day outside, or the feeling of resolve that all that matters is right here, right now. Humorously, it has taken Dr. Doolittle, a contrary though humble name for a man who was my first Zen, vegetarian master. Not Eddie Murphy silly, but Rex Harrison as a man who could talk to the animals, wouldn’t eat them and defended their feelings and rights. He thinks only of the future in terms of expeditions he will do such as searching for the Great Pink Sea Snail or the Giant Lunar Moth, a month of planning the only time frame the audience hears about as he humanely exhibits the Push Me-Pull You at the circus to raise money. Emma Fairfax pines for his approval and affection and only in that moment of being asked does he consider his own feelings for her. It seems much of my time in relationship is thinking about it versus being in it. The Vedic scripture says yes, take action, buy that nice car, but don’t be attached to the outcome of anything. To love someone but not plan for a future with them. To make love and not want more or feel depressed after. To expect nothing from those I love, giving without an expectation of receiving. Words that roll off yet are so elusive in practice. This has been my work since I have last written, as well as grieving the passing of my best friend.
Jenny was the best friend I have ever had in my entire life. I don’t care that she was a dog because to me she was a spirit, greater than most humans I have come in contact with. She was my greatest teacher and sent to me for 14 years. She enhanced and affected many lives. In our time, this time, I learned how to be alone, to work thru my karma that was passed on to me thru generations of unrefined, painful emotions. For the first time I feel I can be a good friend, in a loving relationship, a valuable community member. This has taken the severing, reevaluation and rebuilding of many ties in family and friendship, on my terms, unpopular though necessary for my survival.
The 49 day mourning period of Bardo was the most helpful practice I can imagine for doing what I could to feel involved with aiding Jenny’s spirit to find a beautiful rebirth and for me to truly digest and integrate her physical presence being removed from my life. The gaps of the nasty daily chores were initially missed, just the opportunity to serve her. On each Friday at 2:21 PM I meditated and prayed for her spirit, those prayers changing each week as I felt her more and more distant from this world, my world. I made walks, pilgrimages several times a week, with her bones and ash, creating altars all over Rio en Medio, to some of our favorite natural spaces. In nature is where I felt her most. In the first week I became sure that birds are the vehicles for the recently departed. They followed me in droves as well as a very large bear, or perhaps I followed her. Native America sees the bear as introspection. I seem to cross paths more and more with Indian healers and Shamans, their medicine becoming mine. This weekend I will do a peyote ceremony that will go from sunset to sunrise. Known for it’s powerful healing individually and for the collective, I have waited many years to be ready to be part of this ritual.
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer just over 2 years ago, I stopped my life. Jenny’s passing allowed me that same opportunity. In the 7 weeks of Bardo, I did not socialize very often outside of my home, mourning feeling palpable. I also grieved for bombing my being with poisonous drugs that my body is forever different as a result of. Almost 2 years since the last chemo and my hair is just starting to return. I am in menopause, brought on by the drugs, symptoms of which were exacerbated with the intense emotions of Jenny’s last days, hot flashing, bipolar and sleep deprived for the past few months. My teeth are brittle, shifting which naturally occurs when a person gets old, generally older than me who will be turning 41 on Wednesday. In a nervous moment I question if the drugs are still in me, after all the intense detoxing I have done over the past 2 years, and if they are just starting to leave, does that mean the chemo is what has kept the cancer at bay all this time? Given the route I have chosen post chemo, it’s very hard to know where I stand as a breast cancer recipient. Financial stress can’t help though the lessons from buying only necessities, learning to create whatever I need from clothes to food is empowering and part of my rebirth away from the initial energetic I came into this life thinking were the most important essences.
Money is an issue for everyone. In my family, I feel it was the motivation for what one translated as love and success. It wasn’t a priority for me personally, except when I unconsciously was trying to win approval by taking jobs that did not suit me. When I look in the mirror, I admit to having had an innate sense of entitlement. This manifested in staying in roles and unhealthy family relationships so I essentially would get paid. I also mutated money as reassurance of being loved since emotionally I had frequently felt unconditional love not present. Accepting my current profound poverty and debt has been arduous though liberating in being autonomous emotionally. Would I have preferred to have my letters to my family of need responded to with kindness and assistance? Sure. But obviously, that is not my path from here on in.
It still hurts to be misunderstood. I feel grossly misrepresented by having money donated in my honor to organizations that I feel are reprehensible in the medieval practices around breast cancer. Double mastectomies (a big word for cutting off your breasts) as “prophylactic” and radiation (cancer causing energy) as well as massive chemo (poison) are even more extreme, archaic methods of “fighting” cancer than my grandmother endured. The fear-based business of cancer has me beside myself with anger at times and that I am considered fringe for taunting these methods, willing to be a guinea pig on film to document some options. As I write this, I’ve just been told my aunt who has been diagnosed with breast cancer 3 times and had a hysterectomy for pelvic cancers, is on life support. She was supposedly unable to take the next chemo and stopped breathing. I pray for her to be free of pain and sadness. I feel she inherited generations of unresolved angst, like me, in what I refer to as the “genetic energetic”. God rest her soul and let love permeate her being now and at the time her body dies. Is she better off for taking the Western medicine that may have prolonged her life? We spoke on camera about this as part of “the ME film”.
I want to live a long life in this body though am daily becoming friendlier with death. After all, it is part of life and I will not pretend it doesn’t exist, for me or anyone else. I do pray that my lineage hereafter will benefit from my work in looking for the root of our breast cancer. If you want to help make a difference, please consider contributing to “the ME film” or the Lexie Health Fund so this anecdote may be televised.
Namaste’- I bow to the beloved in you who bows to the beloved in me.
lex
Jenny was the best friend I have ever had in my entire life. I don’t care that she was a dog because to me she was a spirit, greater than most humans I have come in contact with. She was my greatest teacher and sent to me for 14 years. She enhanced and affected many lives. In our time, this time, I learned how to be alone, to work thru my karma that was passed on to me thru generations of unrefined, painful emotions. For the first time I feel I can be a good friend, in a loving relationship, a valuable community member. This has taken the severing, reevaluation and rebuilding of many ties in family and friendship, on my terms, unpopular though necessary for my survival.
The 49 day mourning period of Bardo was the most helpful practice I can imagine for doing what I could to feel involved with aiding Jenny’s spirit to find a beautiful rebirth and for me to truly digest and integrate her physical presence being removed from my life. The gaps of the nasty daily chores were initially missed, just the opportunity to serve her. On each Friday at 2:21 PM I meditated and prayed for her spirit, those prayers changing each week as I felt her more and more distant from this world, my world. I made walks, pilgrimages several times a week, with her bones and ash, creating altars all over Rio en Medio, to some of our favorite natural spaces. In nature is where I felt her most. In the first week I became sure that birds are the vehicles for the recently departed. They followed me in droves as well as a very large bear, or perhaps I followed her. Native America sees the bear as introspection. I seem to cross paths more and more with Indian healers and Shamans, their medicine becoming mine. This weekend I will do a peyote ceremony that will go from sunset to sunrise. Known for it’s powerful healing individually and for the collective, I have waited many years to be ready to be part of this ritual.
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer just over 2 years ago, I stopped my life. Jenny’s passing allowed me that same opportunity. In the 7 weeks of Bardo, I did not socialize very often outside of my home, mourning feeling palpable. I also grieved for bombing my being with poisonous drugs that my body is forever different as a result of. Almost 2 years since the last chemo and my hair is just starting to return. I am in menopause, brought on by the drugs, symptoms of which were exacerbated with the intense emotions of Jenny’s last days, hot flashing, bipolar and sleep deprived for the past few months. My teeth are brittle, shifting which naturally occurs when a person gets old, generally older than me who will be turning 41 on Wednesday. In a nervous moment I question if the drugs are still in me, after all the intense detoxing I have done over the past 2 years, and if they are just starting to leave, does that mean the chemo is what has kept the cancer at bay all this time? Given the route I have chosen post chemo, it’s very hard to know where I stand as a breast cancer recipient. Financial stress can’t help though the lessons from buying only necessities, learning to create whatever I need from clothes to food is empowering and part of my rebirth away from the initial energetic I came into this life thinking were the most important essences.
Money is an issue for everyone. In my family, I feel it was the motivation for what one translated as love and success. It wasn’t a priority for me personally, except when I unconsciously was trying to win approval by taking jobs that did not suit me. When I look in the mirror, I admit to having had an innate sense of entitlement. This manifested in staying in roles and unhealthy family relationships so I essentially would get paid. I also mutated money as reassurance of being loved since emotionally I had frequently felt unconditional love not present. Accepting my current profound poverty and debt has been arduous though liberating in being autonomous emotionally. Would I have preferred to have my letters to my family of need responded to with kindness and assistance? Sure. But obviously, that is not my path from here on in.
It still hurts to be misunderstood. I feel grossly misrepresented by having money donated in my honor to organizations that I feel are reprehensible in the medieval practices around breast cancer. Double mastectomies (a big word for cutting off your breasts) as “prophylactic” and radiation (cancer causing energy) as well as massive chemo (poison) are even more extreme, archaic methods of “fighting” cancer than my grandmother endured. The fear-based business of cancer has me beside myself with anger at times and that I am considered fringe for taunting these methods, willing to be a guinea pig on film to document some options. As I write this, I’ve just been told my aunt who has been diagnosed with breast cancer 3 times and had a hysterectomy for pelvic cancers, is on life support. She was supposedly unable to take the next chemo and stopped breathing. I pray for her to be free of pain and sadness. I feel she inherited generations of unresolved angst, like me, in what I refer to as the “genetic energetic”. God rest her soul and let love permeate her being now and at the time her body dies. Is she better off for taking the Western medicine that may have prolonged her life? We spoke on camera about this as part of “the ME film”.
I want to live a long life in this body though am daily becoming friendlier with death. After all, it is part of life and I will not pretend it doesn’t exist, for me or anyone else. I do pray that my lineage hereafter will benefit from my work in looking for the root of our breast cancer. If you want to help make a difference, please consider contributing to “the ME film” or the Lexie Health Fund so this anecdote may be televised.
Namaste’- I bow to the beloved in you who bows to the beloved in me.
lex
Labels: bardo, breast cancer, death, family, money, the ME film
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home