July 2023 – Frantic Shanti

From a Safe Distance

It’s hard to believe that six years ago I was a week and a half away from my final chemo infusion, in the thick of being a cancer patient with no idea of what tomorrow would bring.

Cancer survivorship used to be a whole lotta “looking over your shoulder” for the next thing to hit.

I also thought that I’d live the rest of my life, however much or little of it there was left, in fear, always looking over my shoulder to see if cancer was close behind. In fact, after my active treatment was over, I expected that my anxiety would increase because I imagined that whatever had triggered my tumor growth would again be unleashed and ready to attack my again.

And when I had to stop aromatase inhibitors early due to side effects, I envisioned even more terror because I wouldn’t have the medication’s protection anymore.

None of this suggested that I would have a very pleasant future. Either I would get cancer again…or I’d be consumed by worry over getting cancer again.

Reality turned out to be quite different.

The more (1) I practiced being present, coupled with the (2) increasing distance between my last dose and today, the easier it has become. Now, that might sound like a no-brainer, but it was news to me.

And I don’t know exactly when I turned the corner on my fear but it was probably after the worst letrozole side effects ceased and I was able to reflect on and accept that cancer happened and now I was moving past it.

It took years to get to that point, but it would have probably come sooner if I hadn’t convinced myself that I’d never get there.

And how are things different now? I don’t think of cancer every minute of every day. And when I do think about it, it doesn’t seem as daunting.

I realized this after meeting a cancer survivor who works at a store that I frequent. She revealed that she’d just received her three-year “all-clear”. The relief on her face was unmistakable.

And it struck me that I used to have that incredible sense of gratitude too. And I still kind of do for a short bit, but it fades quickly as I turn my focus to the rest of my daily responsibilities.

Yes, I am still seeing my oncologist twice a year, having annual 3D mammograms AND the occasional MRI, so it’s less likely that something’s going to sneak up on me. But the concern is no longer as all-encompassing because it doesn’t feel as likely.

Of course, I could be kidding myself. Even after six-plus years I know that every set of scan results is a door to either “no evidence of disease (NED)” or “we’ll get you in to see the oncologist ASAP”. So far I keep going through the NED door…and it keeps opening onto a bright day.

In the midst of taking things for granted, it’s nice to stop and think about that.

Just Because It’s Summer: Flowers [PHOTOS]

Earth laughs in flowers.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

As we slog through extremely high temperatures in many parts of the world, I remind myself of how fortunate I am to be living in a relatively temperate area of the United States that somehow manages to evade the weather extremes faced by other parts of the country.

In this post, I’m celebrating the more pleasant parts of summer, namely the beautiful flowers that proliferate during this time of the year. My camera is an aging iPhone with limited features so my point is simply to showcase the abundance of colorful plantlife that is growing within a relatively small area around the complex where I life, rather than produce art-like photos.

Likewise, the flowers may be “lacking”, perhaps with browning edges or dirty petals or anything else that doesn’t look picture-perfect. But they are very real and a good reminder that there is so much that doesn’t look like it comes from the pages of a glossy magazine, and yet is still worthy of a mindful gaze.

There was a time when I could have rattled off the names of all of these, but while some are still familiar, others I cannot recall. So I’m posting them simply to appreciate for their form. I hope you enjoy!

There is a glossy-leafed magnolia tree blooming outside our window with dinner plate-sized flowers. Its petals are so white that they were blinding my camera and my husband and I had to wrestle the flower into an position where its brightness wouldn’t overwhelm the iPhone.

A rose is a rose is a rose…even when it’s a little rough around the edges.

This plant looks very geranium-like to me but I’m not sure whether it actually is one. Anyone know? The flowers remind me of the peticoatted skirts of dancers kicking up their heels. Bug included at no extra cost.

I know what this flower is and I’m going to remember the name right after I submit this post! I love this image for the fluffy stamens and teeny water drops…and the gracefulness of the blossom.

Another flower whose name escapes me. This looks like a circle of red-dressed ladies holding hands and facing outwards.

I love succulents for their beautiful leaf patterns, very fractal-like and interesting, even when dusted in dirt. Echeveria species, I presume.

Another stunning succulent, a bit chewed up but beautiful in my eyes. Again Echeveria, I expect.

A succulent preparing to flower. Tightly packed buds that look ready to bust open.

Last but not least, a hibiscus. This is one of my favorite flowers — I assure you the photo does not do the colors justice. Unfortunately, this year my plant has been beset by various pests but is producing gorgeous flowers nonetheless.

Sinking into the Depths, but in a Good Way: A Meditation Visualization

As I return to really sinking down into my meditation practice, I am reminded of what I’ve been missing out over the past few months when my practice gradually changed and “shallowed”.

Due to pressures and stressors the start of this year, I had been skittering over the surface of my meditations, much as you would imagine barefoot skiing over the surface of a large body of water, and I use this as a visualization of my experience.

It is *not* fun trying to keep my head up and focused through my distractions.

Up on the surface, you have wind and waves to contend with. The more time that you spend up on top of the water, the more tumultuous distractions you find there and it becomes more difficult to find a sense of calm. The more you do that, the more it becomes habitual.

But when you stop charging across the surface — resisting the enticing attraction of thoughts — then you find yourself slowly sinking…but in a good way. Thrashing winds disappear, sounds become muffled and fade into the distance, movement slows. The deeper you descend, the more quiet you find there.

There are times that I think I’ve been meditating, only to realize that I’ve floated up to the surface and am actually bobbing around in the choppy waves of my thoughts. That realization comes more quickly the more time I’ve spent in the depths, and when I return to the process of sinking, it feels like such a relief.

The deeper I allow myself to descend, the quieter I become. It becomes less of a struggle to stay down.

I can learn to sit with frightening creatures the way I can learn to sit with unsettling thoughts…and vice versa.

And as I get progressively deeper, light dims. Initially, the darkness felt a little intimidating (I’m not a fan of dark water). But then I remembered, this is my ocean. I decide what dwells in the darkness. I can fill my ocean with fearsome, aggressive creatures — and sometimes I do this — but then because I realize that they are mine, they don’t hurt me and I am able to sit with them peacefully.

What an accurate analogy for our thoughts, no?

In this way I feel my own inner strength and power. The darkness does not have to be frightening — it is a gentle darkness that signals rest, allowing my mind to slow and focus inwards.

If that darkness is too disconcerting to you, imagine that there is a soft blue brightness in the water, illuminating your entire area of vision, and perhaps even an underwater staircase you can use to control your descent. Tweak it however you like so that it fits with your level of comfort.

This visualization is the perfect reminder of how good meditation feels when I don’t get in my way about it. Nothing to do but relax and let myself sink down…

Quitting This Stupid Job…and Going Back to Training

For a number of months now, my meditations have been “sub-par”.

I know I’m not supposed to judge, but objectively I’m aware that I’ve veered off course somewhere. In the past, I’d have good days and bad days, transcendent meditation sessions and really distracted, “no-way-I’m-gonna-focus” ones. But that was okay, because a large part of mindfulness meditation is coming back to the breath AFTER losing focus.

Rabbit holes are very enticing places to disappear into.

This has been a little different.

It started with a few weeks of distractibility as I was navigating stressors in the early months of this year. But gradually, things went downhill until I seemed to make it my job to use meditation time to go down rabbit holes.

Maybe I was too tired, meditating in the evening before bed or when I woke in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep, so I didn’t check my wandering mind because I was dozing off.

If I had music in the background, my mind would dance off in a tangent and I wasn’t meditating anymore, forgetting that this was a time for calm and presence.

I’d get lost during my meditation with little hope of finding my way back on the path that I was on.

So I’d start a guided meditation — listening to someone’s voice would keep me on track, right? Nope. My ability to allow that voice to fade into the background was nothing short of impressive.

Day after day, I had dutifully taken on the task of wandering way off my meditation path until I realized that I was going nowhere and it was time to quit the restlessness and stay still for a while.

Even after years of daily meditations, I had to re-learn the habit of staying… because over the past few months, I’ve established a new habit of not coming back to my center regularly enough. And this new habit of spending my session mindlessly had managed to supplant my previous meditation flow.

So here we go again: setting aside some quiet time when I’m not particularly sleepy, finding an anchor like the breath to focus on in a patient, non-gripping manner, maintaining a gentle awareness of where my mind is, and when it inevitably wanders away from my point of focus (which it always will), calmly guiding it back.

Going back and consciously setting an anchor again. And enjoying that comfortable feeling of being present and aware of this very second.

When the breath seems like a boring place to drop my anchor, I turn to the sensations in my hands and feet (particulary useful when I’m stressed) or the sounds of automobile traffic outside ebbing and flowing or opening my awareness to all my senses and accepting whatever shows up. My focus is on the present and that’s where I aim to keep it.

So it’s true, that old “muscle memory” is bringing back my meditation practice and strengthening it as it does so. This serves as a good reminder to not get complacent, calling myself a “meditator” and throwing around stats like how many days in a row I’ve been meditating. In the end, the important thing is not my meditation streak, it’s the fact that today I will choose to meditate again.

We’ll See What Happens…

As the saga of our building’s leaky pipes continues, this experience reminds me of some of the best advice I received for getting through my cancer treatment.

How could cancer relate to a plumbing emergency? In how I perceived the news and possible outcomes. My cancer diagnosis was terrifying because I had grown up understanding that the disease meant difficult treatment and a real possibility of death. Now that I was dealing with cancer, I was jumping to conclusions, driven by FEAR.

And the leak in our unit? That meant a huge disruption in our lives as workmen enter and our belongings are piled together. But even more so, FEAR of the future, as we didn’t know the extent of the damage and whether we’d be able to to keep living here.

Getting a first glimpse of restoration. Lost some ceiling, light fixtures and a lot of kitchen cabinets.

The thought of moving brought anxiety about higher rental rates, dealing with belongings after nine years in the same apartment, even simply fear of change and uncertainty.

But that best bit of advice that I mentioned above? I found that it applied well to this situation also. And it goes like this: don’t try to tackle everything at once; take it bit by bit.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, the experience was nothing if not overwhelming. So many new terms, treatment options, possible outcomes. It was too much to handle. Someone I worked with suggested that I deal with things on a day to day basis. Not obsessing about the future, only what I needed to get through for today.

This was not easy for me, as being FEARful came naturally to me. But I understood what he was saying, even if I struggled to actually follow this advice at the time.

As with cancer, so with plumbing. My mind had already “gone there”, struggling to afford another unit (this is an older unit with rent lower than other places around us), staying up day and night to pack. Ending up in an even worse situation with inconsiderate neighbors…

But reality was not like that.

Behold, the FORCE AIR 2000EC! This monstrosity is the heart of the asbestos abatement operation. The workmen couldn’t fit it back in their truck so we’re babysitting it for a couple of days. Also, it looks like it was built by orks, but that has nothing to do with anything.

Within a weekend we had moved much of the kitchen and dining area. And really overhauled our possessions — even something as complicated as draining our 20-gallon fishtank and relocating its inhabitants to my husband’s office was not as difficult as anticipated.

I had time. I had time to move things, I had time to reorganize, to declutter, to stop and think about what was next. I had time because it wasn’t all happening at once. Stopping and breathing and noticing all the space around gave me space inside my head.

Discussions with our landlady suggested that we would take it one day at a time. No one was throwing in the towel yet…

…and even if the worst case scenario happened and we had to move, there were other places that were available (all with air conditioning, which we don’t currently have), and the rental cost would have been similar to what we pay now. In some cases the places were newer and most allowed pets (!), which I’ve been longing for.

All of a sudden, things didn’t look that bad. The options seemed promising.

Taking it bit by bit gave back a sense of control. All those fears slowly fell away.

And now, I find myself hovering with acceptance. Not landing on an expectation that THIS or THAT will happen. I don’t know what will happen and I’m finding a comfortable place to simply hang here, not gripping or holding on or needing for anything to be different.

We’ll see what happens…