I do not align with the fighting metaphors relating to having cancer.
Cancer has been and continues to be my teacher. A hard task master but a valuable one.
Fight and battle and survive are words of aggression, taking up arms in revolt. Words of energy, yet energy is one of the first things to go. I don’t wish to fight this label I now wear. I learn from it. I uncover the gifts.
It is. I am experiencing it. I accept that.
Yet, I am not giving up in resignation. That word is simply the reverse of fighting. I am on this path, this journey. Not by choice but nevertheless here I am.
I am making choices that are right for me. Just for me. Maybe not you. I seek options that lead me to new avenues. I appreciate that they may not be avenues you would choose or choices you would make. Nevertheless, they are mine.
I ask that you respect my choices, even if they are not the ones you would make.
To experience, requires form.
As I ran through the PSI (perceptions, sensations, impulses), I shifted to ask “who/what is this that is witnessing the sensations, the perceptions, open to impulse?”
The I that is the essence witnesses the form’s experiences.
The detachment while celebration of the connection. The essence delighting, relishing the experience of the form. In whatever that is. The simple full presence to the feel of the keyboard, the weight of the iPad on the legs.
The simple acts that become gratifying experiences. When present to them. Fully.
To simply drink a cup of tea. To feel the heat in the mouth, the flavour. The warmth as the liquid travels to the stomach. The breath that inhales the scent of bergamont, the warmth tickling the nose.
The Japanese tea ceremony – now I fully get such a spectacular event. The presence to every facet, the intensity of the experience.
The next generations’ priorities are to seek experiences, travel, new adventures. Yet are more distracted than ever with devices, with communicating what it is they are doing. Not being. Not fully present. Yet storing memories to fulfil the ever present dissatisfaction, the void.
Expectations and Hope
Judgement
Without bias
Compassion for self first, and others
Michael gave me an insightful comment “when it is obviously demanding, say physical suffering, you find that easier to be spiritual, have trust and faith and joy. It is when you are good, that’s the anathema to you as you can’t do“. So in other words, the opposite to the majority of people.
When the cancer limits this body’s activities, Being is easier. Joy comes easier.
It brings a sense of closure and relief to this form’s existence.
I have no choice but to let go into the Now.
It is when the body is not evidently suffering, when it is a good day, then I crumble into feeling useless and valueless. And oh, so very lost. Separate.
It is when I feel I am barred from making a difference – to Michael, to those around me, to the environment, the planet. To refine, to improve. To save others, to create a nicer surround.
Samaya: my sitting with the purposeless
My embracing the simple Beingness of a form-nonsuffering day.
The love of (bird) flight: the unrestrained Beingness, lightness. No restrictions, no obligations or places to have to go, responsibilities and effort.
The “good” days offering up effortlessness. Physically and karmically.
And highlight the mind’s struggle-suffering to simply accept and imbue, without judgement.
As a baby we come into existence to experience form.
Hence the fascination a baby has with its toes, fingers, your face. Touching everything to experience the different textures.
Smelling, eating whatever comes close to sample, experience without judgement.
Crawling, walking, exploring, feeling the movement.
Testing out the boundaries of the form we’ve chosen.
As in Illusions: either learning or fun.
It is judgement/ego that distorts to good or bad. Rather things the body likes. And not. But nothing inherently bad or good. Just different versions of experiences.
Explore. Experiment. Experiencing.
Yes, still here. More for me to experience
It seems.
Running out of the faith and trust. Been so long.
Been too long. But the faith remains. Despite.
What more than to trust?
Waves of emotion rise and fall away.
And the I that thought I was this diseased body and brain, remain.
Pain like waves, rise and rise and fall, flattened by drugs.
The drugs then creating their own whirlpools and tidal rips.
And the body that is physical I, remains.
I take a breath. Then another.
I accept. I allow. I release. I let go. Over and over.
The ego, the “I” wishing to assert and “do”
To distract, to control, to “live”
The body meanwhile, says, “nothing left”. No energy to “do”
The brain replies with “nothing here”, thoughts too hard to process.
And I remain.
The days dominated by pain. The nights often too. That way I know that I am still here
To learn, to experience.
Allowing the body’s suffering
Watching the mental suffering so that it doesn’t spiral into dangerous ground.
And I continue.
The sun warming my body, bringing relief to the cold
So cold.
The gentle sounds of nature: wind and birds and leaves rustling
And I smile at the tui’s call
I laugh at the kittens’ antics
I bury my face in their warm sunny tummies.
And I smile.
I watch Michael as he juggles his wellbeing, the kittens, work. And me.
Always juggling.
Does so well. And sometimes not.
Reminding me that he too has his very human moments.
I respect and honour this man
Who gives so much.
Precious man.
Precious friends, Precious family
The ones who truly hold the space for me
With love
And care
With no judgement
Simply,with deep understanding and compassion.
I am blessed.
I remember my elderly grandmother complaining of sheer exhaustion.
When she’d only walked a metre or two. Or climbed a few stairs.
“I ache” she would say. “I ache” with eyes full of tears
My youthful vigour confused.
I didn’t understand
I do now
I’m sorry
I do now.
Exhaustion. Fatigue. They all tell you of this.
But what they don’t tell you
Is how the fatigue grows
It does – it grows
And grows
Every moment
Introducing you to depths too hard to explain.
Sleep brings relief from pain. Bliss.
Yet awaken more tired.
The “get up and go” has become “lie down and slow”.
The “lie down and slow” the norm
The need to fix the pillow
Too hard
The pillow stays that way.
“I ache” I say to my husband
“Everything aches”
I’m too tired
Sorry my darling one
I just need to lie down
For a moment
Really more.
I’m so tired
So so tired.
Last words
I want my last words to be “I love you” to whomever is with me.
I’d love for that to be Michael, the kind caring man that I admire tremendously
And love so very much.
He is a king among men; a knight who rescued me, I in turn, rescuing him.
It may be my sister, our relationship calming and ebbing at the end of my life
Our love evident in our words.
Spoken and unspoken.
She has achieved so very much on her own, I am in awe.
The words may be said to a special friend
Sharing their gift of time with me
Time being the greatest gift of all.
It may be the doctor, if I choose that exit.
And the words would ring true, bequeathed to someone
committed to honouring the dying.
It may be to the birds
visiting outside the french door.
Or the clouds and sky that speak of forever.
The trees surrounding me may hear my words
Their existence giving life to this planet, as I, myself, leave the world.
It may be to an empty room
Its decor presenting my skill in creating beauty itself
Receiving my words in the quietude of the space.
I want my last words to be “I love you” to the world of forms
As I slip into formlessness itself.
Know that I will be around. Know that I’ll be watching and caring, listening and supporting. Know that I was and am happy. Fern x