April Fool

Since I have no early clients scheduled this morning, I either get to do paperwork or waste time. I choose the latter, and thus, I give myself a little time to contemplate... Since my cancer diagnosis and hellish treatment/recovery, I have thought more about certain life "issues." And...this morning my thoughts drift toward a few of these issues, thanks to a quote I received in an e-mail, and something I heard on the radio on my 2 mile drive to my office. I was thinking about two things this morning... (1) whether I would consider my life a "success." (2) what exactly gives my life meaning and value in the present "now" I am living. I am certainly not alone in reflecting on these issues now that cancer has invaded my life. I think it's virtually a universal phenomena that when one brushes with death, after a certain age and modest degree of maturity... whatever time one has left, there is a tendency to ponder a little more about the meaning of one's life.

Here's the quote I got in an e-mail:

The spiritual journey is not a career or a success story. It is a series of humiliations of the false self that become more and more profound.
Fr. Thomas Keating

WHAT??? "a series of humiliations of the false self" Again this morning,I am slapped in the face (for the thousandth time) that I still tend to use the wrong template for a sense of success. I am fully responsible for creating that monster, but dear ol' dad sure pounded that distorted (false) idea of "success" into my head... or was it just my lifetime unreachable ambition to hear him say "I am proud of you." that kept (keeps) me pursuing that false self. Just last night, I was rumninating about my career and career "accomplishments." I have given such weight to that false self! It's really a ghost...

AND IT IS HUMILIATING WHEN I REALIZE THAT SO MUCH OF MY LIFE I'VE CHASED GHOSTS AT THE EXPENSE OF SUBSTANCE. I am talking about money, ... I am talking about "image"... I am talking about "approval" and I am talking about vanity. (I once saw Woody Allen say that everything he ever did in his life was done in order to meet girls!)

Listen...you can't get to the real promised land without having to walk away from what you always thought the promised land was...

The other statement that impacted me this morning was listening to something on the radio about what happens at funerals. Often, someone recites details in the life of the deceased. While the litany of "accomplishments" (degrees, jobs, titles,etc.) is being recited, the room is cold and bored. It only comes alive when the discussion turns to what that person loved... the homemade telescope, the outings with the grandkids, etc. THEN, there is warmth in the room.

What people lose when someone dies is what that person loved! NOT what that person accomplished... no one really cares about degrees, titles, bank balances, number of hours worked... they will think more about the juicy hamburger they ate on Sunday than they will about the Ph.D. that Uncle Steve got. REALLY. I know that....

There's a hint in there about the real measure of success... What do I love and how do I show it????????????????????

Here's a great poem... I highlighted one line... the "you only" in that line ... there's the rub... she makes it sound so simple... Tell me, Mary...how long will it take to get all these tapes out of my head so that I could get to that place?

---WILD GEESE---

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-----------Mary Oliver

lenten poem

With One Word Missing

Mid-March in the country,
that late night the thawed world
slept, patchy grasses still,
while inside we curled
in our own breaths and outside
shut blinds, the surprising snow
came on silently, spreading
over everything with its sudden
coat of heavy quiet. Now
we discover morning's usual
brightness piled right up to
our eyes at the window,
the sky seeming like
sun could shine behind
but wouldn't. Instead
the lightest flakes are falling
all coming down
to the only color left, its
feathery close cover not
closing, but holding us too
and we open the door and our
hands and faces, even
our eyes, to know that slight touch
able to change everything, so
much waiting, finally slowed
by this steadiness,
simple,
but of such deep mind.

Rebecca Weiner Tompkins

Flu - and a Revelation

This past weekend, my wife and I went to Kansas City to celebrate our anniversary. We ate some good food, went to a museum, some galleries, and did a little shopping. A very good trip.

I came home and became really sick. My temperature on Sunday evening was 102.4. I felt lousy for most of this week.

Here's what I thought, when I was feverish, nauseous, coughing, aching, etc... "I have learned how to be really sick, and so now, I will do it with more gracefulness and detachment." Crap. I couldn't. I just felt miserable. I wanted to take all those good lessons I wrote about last year and put them in the dumpster... I just felt lousy.

Actually, I did have one small bit of success. Here it is:

I had a single thought that lifted my spirits immensely. The thought was...

God has the flu.

Let me explain, please. I am NOT God. I am NOT crazy. I apologize for the graphic nature of this... But a few weeks ago, I was in Church... Normally, I bring with me a water bottle because when it comes time for the Eucharist...i.e. Communion, I often can not swallow the bread without a swig of water. Bread is dry, and without much saliva, it sticks in my throat, and doesn't go down, and a sip of wine doesn't get the job done. I'd rather not choke in front of the church, so I just hold off on the swallowing part till I get back to my seat and have a drink of H20. OKAY... TMI.

This particular Sunday, as I knelt at the altar, I realized I forgot my water bottle that day. So, here is what I did... I took a LARGE swallow of wine, enough to completely turn the bread in my mouth to mush... and I swallowed. But as the bread and wine mixed...I had a revelation... I realized I could swallow because the bread and the wine became one, and I could no longer tell where one left off and the other began. THEY WERE COMPLETELY INSEPARABLE... and at that moment...POW... the revelation... It was Jesus saying... "THAT'S ME AND YOU!!!" Did I hear His voice? Not exactly... Did the thought seem to just POP in my head out of nowhere...YES! What did I feel? LOVED!

I AM NO LONGER SEPARABLE FROM HIM... IT CAN'T BE UNDONE!

If I endure suffering, He endures it with me. That reality went from my head to my heart kneeling at the altar. We are One as He and the Father are One. Oh, how that makes the flu seem bearable!

Words rarely do justice to a revelation, so I suppose it sounds a bit silly to read this... but...trust me... it is like Him to stoop to my level to make a point. At least that's how He works in me.


Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me...I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them, even as you have loved me.

John 17: 21-23

another step forward

Today marks 17 months post treatment. As far as I know, I am cancer free today. I frequently have neck or throat pain, and I can not help but get a twinge of fear when that happens...but the pain doesn't persist beyond a day or two, and then, I breathe a sigh of relief. The dry mouth is a constant bothersome issue, but that's not too much trouble. I am now on hypothyroid meds for life, thank you radiation, but again, I am happy to have the medicine to keep my thyroid functioning within normal limits. My post treatment neuropathy is gone, my taste is about 75% restored, and my energy is enough to get me through the day.

Here is a victory I had today: I went back and read some of the Sept.-December 2009 posts and comments on the Deeper than Cancer blog. For the first time, I was able to read what I wrote without having some difficult or painful reconnections to the experience. I read with interest and a healthy detachment. I read the comments that were posted and felt gratitude. In the same way, I can re-visit some painful childhood memories today without the emotional baggage. I have moved on. I do not think I have a day where the thought of cancer doesn't cross my mind, probably because of the small lingering treatment side-effects, but at least I think I have put most of the experience to rest.

I'm glad. I spent many months talking about it. I was way too self-absorbed by my own trials. How boring I became!

I saw Ted Kooser at the poetry reading I attended last week. He is about to have his 13th anniversary of being cancer free after his throat cancer was treated... he is an amazing poet (the August 1, 2010 post on this blog has a video of his reading one of his poems). He told me he would like to have a lunch get together with a number of throat cancer survivors that he knows. I would be the newbie to the bunch. I hope he follows through.

Speaking of revisiting the past...here's Ted reciting a poem about his grandmother's kitchen...

Repentance - looking at the man in the mirror

Penance.... definitely a word associated with Lent.
Repentance...an even better word.

Too often, I twist and turn the ideas of penance and/or repentence into some kind of self-loathing and condemnation. And if I am not condemning myself, then I am blaming others. I know that this is not from the heart of God.

Every day, I talk with couples who are quick to lay blame on their partners for the failures of their marriage. It seems universal. If only he/she would STOP doing what they are doing and START doing something else, the marriage would stand a chance.

Every day, I live with a certain sense of inadequacy. I think, "if these people only knew that their therapist is prone to wild bouts of anxiety, panic attacks, guilt, shame, and a visit now and then to the wasteland of depression, they would think... get me out of here!"

Guilt and shame and anxiety and fear... I've got 'em all.

But that's not it! It's not it. I lack a penitent heart. I lack humility. In spite of that neurotic self condemnation, I think I am so SMART that I know better than anyone else in the world; even God Himself doesn't have much to teach me. I am IN CONTROL. I REALLY believe I know just about everything one needs to know, and I really believe I can read EVERYONE I encounter like a book. I will help you with your anxiety, even though there are times I am crawling out of my skin and my heart is ticking like a bomb ready to explode inside of me. I'm so darn smart!

How many people, smugly talking about the hypocrisy of the church, or the scandal of Priests/Ministers molesting children, etc., judge the whole of Christendom as foolish or worse. We look down our specific and mighty noses and scoff at everyone who doesn't share our perspective... "fundamentalists" "evangelicals" "liberals" "tea-party conservatives" "pagans" and on and on; we attach labels and vilify children of God. And I, from my haughty perch, stand in judgment of all those judgmental people, ready to remove the speck from my brother's eye and not seeing the plank in my own eye.

Here's a snippet from an old poem...

The humble soul compos'd of love and fear
Begins at home, and lays the burden there,
When doctrines disagree,
He says, in things which use hath justly got,
I am a scandal to the Church, and not
The Church is so to me.
---George Herbert

OK...HERE IS WHAT I KNOW TO BE TRUE. TRUE REPENTANCE IS LIFE CHANGING AND LIFE GIVING. IT IS RECOGNIZING THAT THERE IS A PATH THAT LEADS TO PEACE AND LIFE AND JOY, AND ACKNOWLEDGING THAT I HAVE WANDERED OFF IT, AND BECOMING WILLING THROUGH PRAYER, THOUGHT AND DEED TO GET BACK ON THAT PATH AND CONTINUE MY JOURNEY THUSLY.

From the book of Psalms:

You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.
Psalm 16:11

There it is! There is a path, and we have One who desires to make it known to us... how many of us truly get humble enough to stand at the door and knock... and simply receive as children of our true Father. Hey, I can fake humility before man, and look awfully good, but not before God.

OK...so make fun of Michael Jackson...and me, for posting this... I can handle it. It is not a Lenten hymn, and MJ was no saint... I was never a huge fan, but I saw in his tormented life something of a gentle and good heart buried under trauma and distortion. He was full of flaws and who knows, he may have been full of evil. But, you know, there were two sides to MJ. They both were apparent. Anyway, I like this song for it's content, and I must confess... I like his performance. So if you just want to watch a touching video, watch the first... if you want to watch MJ perform it...watch the second.

Lent is helping bring a little more life to my life this year! No kidding!

Ash Wednesday

Remember

that you are dust

and unto dust


you shall return.

So many good poets

There are so many... and the truth is...there are so many poets that write so far over my head that I can't begin to understand their complexity. I'm not that devoted to poetry to plumb the depths of a poem that is like reading Greek. But I love reading a poem that I "get." Some call that type of poetry "accessible." Apparently, that is not a compliment for some. Sometimes, upon further reflection, I "get" something more from the poem. So, I like to post poems as a reminder to myself. I only post poems that grab me; poems that I want to read and re-read. If I post a poem, I feel compelled to read it a few times. A good habit.

Alicia Ostriker is giving a reading of her poems next week in Lincoln, and I plan on being there. I must say, I am as drawn to poems that capture moments of despair and darkness as those that capture joy and light. I suppose I relate because I read this poem and say to myself... "yes, yes, I've been there, I know" and it's a comfort (I love the line about comforters)to realize others have known and can so well convey an emotion or state that I've been familiar with. And it lightens something heavy inside. So, in anticipation of next week, here's a poem... Isn't it powerful?

Insomnia
Alicia Suskin Ostriker

But it's really fear you want to talk about
and cannot find the words
so you jeer at yourself

you call yourself a coward
you wake at 2 a.m. thinking failure,
fool, unable to sleep, unable to sleep

buzzing away on your mattress with two pillows
and a quilt, they call them comforters,
which implies that comfort can be bought

and paid for, to help with the fear, the failure
your two walnut chests of drawers snicker, the bookshelves mourn
the art on the walls pities you, the man himself beside you

asleep smelling like mushrooms and moss is a comfort
but never enough, never, the ceiling fixture lightless
velvet drapes hiding the window

traffic noise like a vicious animal
on the loose somewhere out there—
you brag to friends you won't mind death only dying

what a liar you are—
all the other fears, of rejection, of physical pain,
of losing your mind, of losing your eyes,

they are all part of this!
Pawprints of this! Hair snarls in your comb
this glowing clock the single light in the room