Don't Wait to Start Living

The message from the universe lately is very clear: life is short. So cliche' and glib and obvious. This morning it came in the form of an email from my step-sister, letting me know that one of our childhood friends' brother (also a friend, and married to another friend...) has recently been diagnosed with cancer. Specifically, "...small cell lung cancer

that has spread to his liver, kidneys, bone, and possibly the brain. They scanned his head yesterday and I haven't heard that news yet. He starts chemo today...doesn't look good at all."

I've known these people most of my life...forty plus years. We've all been through a lot together, and have never lost touch over the years. This guy stuffed me head-first into a trash can once; I called him a 'queer' (as in jerk) and was promptly kicked out of the yard by his Marine father, who probably thought I was calling his son that other kind of queer (and who just recently died). We all experienced many rites of passage together, including smoking (all sorts), drinking, boyfriends, girlfriends, arguments, divorces (our parents'), marriages and children (our own). In short, they're family.

So now a member of that family is struggling with a deadly disease that seems to have taken over a majority of his important organs, and his wife and son are dealing with the prospect of seeing him through an illness that could very well take his life sooner than any of them expected.

This is another in a queue of people I know dealing with cancer: a neighbor, a co-worker's spouse, co-workers, church members, and now a friend. None of this is happening to me and yet I recognize that a message is there for me. I'm grateful for the message. I'm filled with concern and love for my friends. I'm at a loss, and yet I know that love is the best thing I can offer from afar.

Natural Therapy

Heading to the mountains this weekend. Specifically, to Mountain Lake Biological Station. It's the SUUSI Nature Group twice annual checkout trip, where we meet up to discuss the previous year at SUUSI and what worked or didn't work, and to begin planning for next year. We'll meet, we'll hike, we'll plan. But it's also a mini-reunion, so we'll eat, and drink, and laugh, and even cry. These weekends have become so very important to me. I look forward to absorbing the energy and love that each individual brings to this place over this weekend. It renews my soul. I'm blessed and grateful.

Owl Wisdom

Heard an owl the other night, as I was reading (okay, checking Facebook...) before I went to sleep. I called to Rebecca, "Owl." She replied, "I heard it."

I wonder why the call of an owl matters to me? It hits deep, touches something I can't identify. It's more than nature. It's history. It's prehistoric. It's a statement. I'm still here, he seems to say. It's not loud. In fact, if you're not listening...really listening...you won't hear him. And maybe that's the point. It's there for you, if you pay attention. And that is true about so many things in our lives, isn't it?

This is an important thing for me to remember right now, as I search/listen/wait for what is next in my life. Because something is definitely coming. I feel it. I'm open to it. And I can wait. It's a feeling of quiet anticipation. The same feeling that the call of the owl stirs up in me.

Speaking of owls, have you seen this? Amazing. And like the changes coming for me, slowly coming into view. Sweet.

Turn, turn, turn...

Yesterday I made three pans of lasagna: one I made for friends who recently welcomed their second child into the family and the world; the second I made for a friend whose mother passed after 96 years on this earth; the third I made for us, because practically speaking, it just made sense to make our dinner too.

Rather symbolic, those three pans of lasagna: life, death, and living. It's all so very normal, and yet each unique and equally important stages of our existence.

Turn, turn turn...

Monarch Autumn

When we lived in Pacific Grove, CA, I got homesick for fall. And when the Monarch butterflies would come through and fill the air with their gorgeous Autumn-ness, I often thought in poetic terms of how they reminded me of falling leaves (although I never wrote the poem...)



Now, as fall descends upon us here in Virginia, I find myself getting nostalgic over that time in California and the beautiful 'fall color' of the Monarchs' migration through the Monterey Peninsula.

Life is funny, isn't it?

The "C" Word

It seems like not a week goes by that I'm hearing about someone who has just been diagnosed with, is currently fighting, is a survivor of, or has recently died from cancer. I suppose it's being middle-aged. But whatever the reason, it's very unsettling. And not because I'm faced with my own mortality. Because I don't take it personally; I don't take the information and think, "Am I next?" No. It's unsettling because I realize I am not emotionally equipped to know how to react or how to help. Even though my uncle and my cousin both died from cancer, and I know so many people who (thankfully) are survivors of different forms of cancer, and I know folks currently under treatment for cancer, I still feel completely inadequate when it comes to being a supportive friend.

I've been blessed with excellent health to date. Sure, I've had some high cholesterol and should lose another 20 pounds, but all in all everything is in good order. And as I've said many times before, every day I live past 51 (the age my father died of a massive heart attack) is a blessing. But good health puts me at a disadvantage in that I don't have any frame of reference when it comes to cancer. Obviously, that's a good thing. But at the same time, I feel at a complete loss when it comes to offering support.

And now a co-worker and his family have been blind-sided with what appears to be cancer. This just after another co-worker died after his battle. And I'm feeling more at a loss than ever. I can only offer practical support, as it relates to work, and spiritual support, in the form of healing thoughts and prayers. And wonder if it's enough.

Any thoughts or insight from your own experiences are appreciated.

Remembering

Remembering a film I watched on the one year anniversary and reading excerpts from that film on this link, the story of Brian and Stanley struck me as particularly poignant. What is the line between who survives and who perishes? What twist of fate or stroke of luck makes that difference? All the questions…too many to consider or answer. But many stories such as this one can and should come out of the horrible events of 9/11. That is what I choose to focus on for this tenth anniversary.

The 82nd Floor (Stanley and Brian)

Death is behind him, a wall in front.
In the roar of flame and destruction,
A white noise as never heard before,
As if his fate has already been sealed.

Is that a pounding? Wait…
Yes. Someone is behind that wall.
Waiting. But no, he can’t wait,
The stairs are full of the fleeing.

That feeling, the one when
Dark is behind you, that spurs
You to speed and strength
Like you’ve never known.

Definitely, pounding. Someone
Is there, trying to get out.
Of course he waits. How
Could he not? Waiting…

Pounding, pounding,
Striking with all the fear
And panic that has come up
In his throat.

There! A hand…he
Reaches in, grabs something…
A collar, a sleeve? It
Doesn’t matter…just pull!

Yes! A hand grabs him, the
Hole grows larger. How
Could one wall be the
Difference between life and death?

They collapse on the floor, strangers
in a puddle of fear mixed with relief.
And in the midst of the terror, Stanley
and Brian, now friends for life.