As you said there is a real power in hearing from those living in the condition of their physical vulnerability. If only we could all have a little of that sense of vulnerability and weakness in our daily attitudes in a "go get em" society. The thought that came to me is that this acceptance Karen speaks of becomes a kind of strength we don't expect, as it knits us together into wholeness. She also spoke of hopefulness, which has a very powerful meaning when used as hope beyond desire. One of my favourite psalms is "You know my inmost being: you knew me before I was knit together in my inmost being." (Psalm 139:13). In listening to the question about demanding something ("demandez") of God it causes me to contemplate that God (creator, revealer, knower) is a knower of our hope and accepting of it. He/She radiates back love as an answer, saying like Paul (Col. 2:2) "I want hearts to be encouraged and united (also "knit together"/ "woven") in love." (I am inspired to do some word study/exegetical work on the words "knit", "woven" and "united" and their use and correlations in scripture ... by this discussion). People are making an authentic attempt here to get beyond Babel's blockades of meaning and reach one another's hearts, which is a very hopeful thing in of itself. When a Christian friend of mine, who has a chronic illness, speaks about her illness on facebook it has a similar quality of acceptance when she openly reaches out to her friends for acceptance of the pain and anxiety she's feeling and through the sharing of the wholeness (holy) of spirit of others, she feels a sense of acceptance from the comments of love and encouragement she receives back. She has told me that for her the cross is the path that helps her understand her life, meaning that she feels God had a complete identification and acceptance of her pain as well, for he has experienced it and wishes for us to heal in the most profound of ways.

Blessings this day,

Pure Listening

I was practicing 'pure listening' today. Contrast with 'active listening' (where you are pouring energy into what someone is saying, fully of sympathy, dancing to their tune) and 'negative listening' (where you are sucking energy from someone while they speak, ignoring them, caught up in your own thoughts).

Pure listening means staying in your own awareness of what is happening (like a mirror) and even imagining that the person speaking to you is part of your own personal experience, inside your field of awareness. This way, you neither add or subtract anything, but the person will feel themselves drawn into a space where nothing is missing. No need to perform, to convince, to get something, to throw away anything. Silence can come, half a sentence can come. Makes no difference. No judgment. Just two things: wisdom (that "I" am really nothing) and love (that "I" am actually everything). We help dissolve the other's suffering with the wisdom that it is a construction that doesn't change their completeness, and with the love that wants to hold them in that space where their constructions melt like snowflakes falling on the warm water of non-interference.

All part of the view that I think indigenous folks long ago lived daily, which is that all of us inside, in that space of blissful awareness, are already and always complete.

If this is so, a nice question to ask yourself whenever you encounter someone, no matter their external presentation, health or illness, friendliness or otherwise, an interesting question to ask is: 'do I see them as already complete?'

This is also a good question to ask of oneself.

Landslide over me...

I have an I-Pad and I am exploring it. So, one aspect is purchasing my favorite music and songs and creating a concert for me. One song done by Stevie Nicks....Landslide...got inside of me. I hum the tune as I am learning the words.

I do feel that I was standing tall, just about coping with all the aspects of having a chronic illness. I could feel the sun; I could see the birds and hear them chirping. I laughed and I could create laughter. I had people around me. People who wanted to be with me and do things with me. Life had its problems but it seemed that I was able to cope.

Then there was a LANDSLIDE of health problems and they poured all over me and slowly I sunk beneath the earth. I was deaf to sounds. Laughter was now a stranger. People looked so distant, afraid to ask, "How are you doing?" I am an emotional person and the answer would have been emotional and teary. During that time of the Landslide my left hip fractured. I developed an major, life threatening infection in my mouth. I was in the hospital three times. I lost the ability to eat food through my mouth because the infection created a fistula and , and , This is the hardest part....day by day I slowly lost my ability to speak clearly.

This limited so much of my life......no more telephone calls to friends in Brazil. No more chats with friends, talking about nothing but laughing about everything. I am under the landslide. I have no thoughts of crawling out and that is because for the first time in my life I do not have me to take care of myself. Without speech, I am deaf to life and unable to call out for help. I am unable to do so much for myself. I have to ask people to make telephone calls for me...and not everyone is happy about being someone's puppet.

This landslide holds me down. I built my life around things that were comfortable and familiar and now without them, this landslide holds me down.
God bless us all. AMF

Six Seconds...

Six seconds...in that time two young Marines were killed ; however, their courage and bravery saved their fellow Marines from being blown up by terrorists. During those six seconds don't you wonder if they had any thoughts? Were they action driven? Did someone guide their hands with the guns and help them blow up the terrorists' truck?

You might be wondering why I am writing about Marines on this blog. It is the six seconds that got to me. Look what two people can accomplish in six seconds - these Marines saved over twenty soldiers, twenty men and women from death. And at the same time during those six seconds a truckload of terrorists were blown up and our defending Marines die a Hero's Death. I am not someone who supports war, death, killing but rather I am commenting on the two marines and their last six seconds of precious life.

Six seconds ...what have I been doing with all my six seconds. I do not think that I have done anything as monumental as the young Marines. I have slowly been bouncing back and forth and back and forth from a series of health crisis starting in October 2009 and continuting up until now. What I am left with is a healed hip, but I am still in Physical Rehab. A fistula (hole) on my neck that makes it impossible for me to eat or drink and a food tube which is the substitue. And my facility with language is almost gone because an infection destroyed my mouth. That's the one that blows me up! I have so many words in my head, so many unspoken stories and unasked questions, so many jokes.

I got a I-Pad from Santa and it has a program on it called "Speak-It" and I use the keyboard and the program provides me with a selection of voices...I choice "Heather" and whatever I write is spoken. I am practicing for the day, if it comes , when I cannot talk. That will be my first six seconds. I will have to act bravely as I pick up my I-Pad and start to use it because I have to. The first six seconds when the I-Pad is a necessity.

I spend a lot of time trying to figure out where all my close friends have gone...In six seconds I did...I didn't like the reality but here it is: "They are living their own lives and being there for me when they want to be." I wonder if anyone but me really knows what each day feels like. I hear myself saying that if I could help someone who had all these problems I would....I would find out what they needed and in my six seconds I would do a great deed...help someone I care about.

Six seconds, such a short amount of time, but time during which a Marine unit was saved and time that I can use to help myself and time others can use to help me. 6-5-4-3-2-1 Six seconds.

I will be writing more frequently and I am glad I did this writing tonight....it is a start. Remember to do things because they make you feel good. Smile and laugh at least once a day. AMF

Plaster Princess

How many people get to celebrate three years in remission with a baby? At the end of today (exactly two weeks after my remission anniversary), we will have a little baby girl--our miracle and our princess.

I always do belly casts of my pregnancies ever since my BFF Lisa gave me a belly casting kit (I'm such an expert now, I just buy plaster). We are off to the hospital in an hour, but Anton and I spent some time this morning belly-casting Moxie. She's the only one that got to be casted right before she's born.

Here's a picture of Moxie's cast, on the left, next to Chloe's cast. The difference is remarkable. And while Moxie is being born at 36 weeks today, Chloe was born at 37 weeks (and I think Chloe's cast was done at 35 weeks). According to the sizing ultrasound we did two weeks ago, Moxie is even going to be as big as Chloe was, around 7.5 pounds. So imagine how squished she felt in there with the tram-flap mesh...and how things were mega difficult for me! But we will both get relief very soon!



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Feedback Worth Sharing!

"It really does give a different way to approach cancer...I like the acceptance of what is versus the "battle or fight of your life" thinking. I first saw the 45 minute video from the week-end retreat and was totally impressed with both Doctors. It gives understanding and compassion to the word doctors...the healers of not only the body but the mind and the spirit. It has made a believer out of me that the spirit can heal the body......and that is a wonderful focus.

Thank you all for making this happen for those of us who live over an hour away. It is awesome."

-Comment from someone who attended our first webcast

http://www.healingandcancer.org/8weeks

http://gingerbreadguts.com/

"In any event, in came the radiation oncologist.

But, hey, for the purposes of this blog, we could just call him Mr. Lovely. Or Mr. Perfect. Or Mr. Super Nice Guy. Or Mr. Special. At the time, however, I called him The Rocket. He was lean and fit and just like my naturopath, his skin glowed with great health and he didn’t miss a trick.

At this point, I really wasn’t thinking about what God may or may not have been lining up so I could reach my goal of ‘Shalom’ – a Hebrew word that means, ‘nothing missing, nothing broken’. I possessed no earthly contacts to advance my pleading case of mastectomy with immediate reconstruction, so I was pretty much biding my time, hanging on to this diseased body part as chemo continued to shrink the lump within.

The Rocket greeted me and I marveled at how well people in medical positions talk to you as though you look perfectly normal to them. He acted like I was not sitting in a washed-out shapeless Johnny shirt, devoid of eyelashes and eyebrows, wearing a wig I singed by opening the oven door with it on while baking. (Melt, baby, melt.)

He asked me something. I don’t recall what, but a greeting kind of question.

I answered him. I don’t recall what, but it seemed like a rather innocuous response.

“So,” he said, “You’re a spiritual person!”

I started to look at him again – more carefully – to see if he was sporting some kind of spiritual antennae that I had carelessly overlooked at first glance. I was completely caught off guard.

“Aaahhh. Ummm. Yes. I am.”

“What kind?”

“Ahhhh. Ummm.” Do I tell him? “Christian.”

“Great!” he said. “Then what would you like to tell me?” There was not one whiff of sarcasm or judgment or disdain in his voice.

What did I want to say, indeed. I was so excited to be the presence of a doctor who actually thought it was okay to bring my spirituality into the cancer equation. What did I want to say?

“I want to tell you that I have listened deep within myself and I’m not going anywhere.” Okay, here it comes. He’s gonna say something about how I can’t hope for that.

“Wonderful,” he said. “So, you need me to help you get, what, another 50 years or so?”

I am really bad at math, so that took a minute for me to compute … Oh, he’s saying he wants to help me live till I’m 95.

“Yes, that would be fine!”

There are many, many things I could tell you about The Rocket. And I probably will. He is a rare and exotic bird living in the forest of doctors.

And if I wasn’t paying attention to what God was doing in the details, that encounter that day with that man reminded me again that Someone with a much bigger view of my life knew I needed a spiritual boost – and a champion inside the system to help me reach my goal.

Unbeknownst to me, The Rocket would play what I would characterize as a divinely pivotal role nearly three months later when I was drowning in confusion and disappointment and anger about how it was all going down."

link http://gingerbreadguts.com/