Almost 5 Years--Feels like Yesterday Sometimes

Breast cancer awareness month comes at my favorite time of year.  I always loved the autumn growing up in Western New York, our summers are fantastic and the burst of autumn reds, yellows and umber are the finale in the fireworks of birth and death, apparent in our leaves.  Autumn is my time for quiet reflection, walking alone in the woods of life, introspection, but now forever interrupted by the ever-visible pink ribbons of October. 

On October 28, 2010, I was on my way to San Francisco, one of my favorite cities filled with memories from my youth. I remember being in my 20s and getting to know the entire city by bus, cable car and train.  In the airport leaving Buffalo, leaving Breast Cancer Awareness month yet again, a zinger hits me and brings me back to my torture called a year with breast cancer.  I want to refer to the following story as an act of poetic justice but find myself wishing that poetic justice was a simple haiku of an experience and hopefully it will become that but for know it is a monumental and striking moment in my life that bears a permanent scar on my body and soul.

The lady behind the USAirways counter was pleasant and helpful.  She was attractive in a put together way that many women in their 40s maintain and I seem forever a day late for.  As she was typing away at the keys to bring up my ticket my eyes were drawn to her flair and the pink ribbon pin in contrast to her gray and navy USAir uniform.  It was striking and instantly drew my eyes in and focused my attention.  I marveled at the color contrast hoping that I wouldn’t be sucked into thinking how the disease was personal to me, it’s rather egotistical anyway and really, I thought, why do I have to have an emotional reaction every time I see a pink ribbon.  I tried to take in other parts of her flair and even her perfectly manicured nails with the maroon color and her diamond rings she had a few and her diamond, ruby and sapphire bracelet depicting the USA and the notion of patriotism gone too far could not bring me from reliving my cancer and thinking that I am a face to the ribbon.  My hope in survival, going on 5 years come March is what is represented in the ribbon.  That my clinging to the benchmark of 5 years is the statistical hope which often gets confused with a cure.  We do have hope.  We do have strength.  We do have survivors.  But we have no cure.  I’m there.  I’m thinking and living the real fear and strength and indeed poetic justice of a pink ribbon.  Pink.  I always hated pink.  Not viscerally.  I mean I didn’t mind it but it was not a go to color for me.  Growing up my favorite color was blue.  I loved blue.  Everyone in my family had blue eyes and I loved everyone in my family and if the eyes are the gateway to the soul then I loved the color blue.  It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I was a tomboy or didn’t particularly enjoy engaging in Barbie Doll play and preferred sports.  Though these things are true.  I just liked blue.  But I didn’t like pink because it was thrust on me as a girl and from a very young age I questioned and pushed up against these constructs of male and female.

So, back to my trip to SF and being at the ticket counter…Iwas thinking all this and mentally writing the discourse on pink ribbons from the survivor’s standpoint when after being pleasantly greeted by security I was ushered to the machine.  I’d seen the machine plenty of times as I’d travelled frequently as part of one of my 3 jobs.  But I was never told to stand with my hands like antlers as I was radiated with low fairly benign x-rays.  I was in a panic.  Not put in a machine again.  Dammit where’s my ativan.  “This is not fun for me.  I’m a breast cancer survivor and I don’t want to enter a machine and be radiated.” I say in desperation and near panic.  “You don’t have to do this maim.”  “You don’t have to do this,” he says again as I instantly feel surrounded by security and stares.  As I get my wits about me, I say, “Fine.  I’d rather not go through this,” when I notice the young lady, an attractive petit blond woman who seemed apologetic as she said she would have to “gently” pat me down.  AHHHHH!  A touching instead?  Panic gives way to sheer and utter despair at my post traumatic stress reaction to being touched and patted down.  I’m brought right back to being trapped into being poked prodded, scaned and radiated.  I remember nothing about anything more than one foot from my nose.  I walked into the machine and put my hands on my head like antlers and hear in the background of my mind in a different place distant voices that are saying things like…”oh, you are going through the scanner then.” “One moment” “Wait” “OK done” And with a certain detachment I gather my belongings and race to a coffee and a seat and recovery.  I’ve survived another breast cancer awareness month.

Sun Moon and Monterey

Moon your cold darkness,
Indulgent in your want of light
Taking in the radiant goodness.
Sun your ever-giving brightness,
Never discriminating but simply giving your light and goodness.

Ramblings
Arrived at the MANA conference in Monterey, which is connected to my past, my bright, amazing, 20s when I fought fires for the Forest Service—this forest, The Los Padres National Forest. I remember the cabin near Pacific Valley Sta. and the amazing times I had visiting and being HERE!
I can here the waves of the Pacific.
I hate Breast Cancer Awareness Month (BCAM), kinda. I mean I want to appreciate and I do. I’m so glad that breast cancer as a cause gets a boat-load of attention, money, fundraising but the god-awful truth that motivates these events is the fact that more “young” women die of the disease than any other affliction. It kills old ladies too, at a faster rate. People are being ripped from loved ones before their time because of breast cancer … as a society we want to know why because we miss the women who’ve died. Susan G Komen, Joan Morrissey, Carolyn Shed. OK, yeah I had it and I didn’t die…thank anyone who’ll listen, including any and all Gods and Goddesses, Buddha too! I’m here but scarred. Literally and figuratively. Got the battle wounds to prove it.
And now, my mom, who thought it would be a good time to get her mammogram…her and hundreds of thousands of women…during BCAM. Had to go back the next day for the needle core boring biopsy to mine for that thing…the thing that we don’t know how to effectively stop. The thing that sucks enormous amounts of brain energy and money and funding ‘cause we really don’t get it…looking for something they find nothing (can’t call it the thing that begins with…c. ) but something that might one day turn into the thing that begins with…c .
She has something like displasia of some cells and she'll need a lumpectomy. Good news is that it's not cancer just pre-cancer cell growth. So they'll cut it out and hope that that's that.

I'm goin' t' school fer lernin', don't ya no.

This Hatha Mama has taken a sharp zig in her zaged life. Staying at the awkward stage of challenge or as I'm learning the "zone of proximal development" (Vygotsky). Aren't we all life-time learners? I've got to go where I'm becoming and blossoming. And so I sit here in Graduate level courses in Education at my alma mater UB. Funny how we are drawn to those places that we need to be. Gently fluttering through life, like the give of wind by the supple branch. Whhhhhew! The branches seem to shimmer out as the blast comes and goes.

Anywho...I enjoy learning...and challenges and I'm finding it now. I have stopped teaching yoga in EA and instead have gone down to one class at my local community center "Yoga for 'Tweens" or Middle School Yoga. I can use them as a sweet little experiment as I pursue teaching to this age group and gee, who in the world doesn't love yoga. It's better than a sharp stick in the eye...I always say. I'll be needing one class myself to teach and keep me accountable to my commitment to students in this discipline. I made a promise.

Just the facts:

--Enrolled at UB in Education Department getting certified in Secondary Ed Science (Earth Science and possibly Life Sciences--I need to make it through this 18 credit semester)

--Going on two trips for Lansinoh this fall. I'm visiting my dear KD in Cali at MANA conference and I think we'll be met by our fabulous boss and friend G. This is work with major perks and quiet. Nothing better than a weekend in a hotel room for free.

--no IBCLC work except to teach a couple BF 101 classes down the street at Care Connection.

--Still have FIVE kids that I deal with on a daily basis. Love them all! They humble me frequently.

--In happy relationships with all family members. Here's hoping they all know how much I love and appreciate each and every one of them.

By the way...In my first grader, C's class they are doing a unit on families. What is a nuclear family? I'm seriously unsure myself under the circumstances....

Do what you do...

Samsara

I've always wanted a good and clear explanation of samsara or suffering. It's something that I'm constantly hoping to avoid but is so ellusive in it's understanding and definition. Anyway, this came into my e-mail inbox, a quote by Trungpa Rinpoche.
Ocean of Dharma Quotes of the Week

September 2, 2009

THE PING PONG BALL OF FIXATION

The cause of samsara, or ultimate confusion, is holding on to vague
concepts. That is what is called fixation, or in Tibetan, dzinpa.
When we do not have clear perception, we must hang on to vagueness
and uncertainty. In doing so, we begin to behave like a Ping-Pong
ball, which does not possess any intelligence but only follows the
directions of the paddle....Whatever we do, our actions are not
perfectly right because, based on this neurotic game, we keep being
Ping-Ponged. Although it may appear that the Ping-Pong ball is
commanding the players, although it seems amazing that such a little
ball has so much power to direct the players' actions and even draw
spectators to watch it going back and forth -- actually, that is not
true. The Ping-Pong ball is just a ball. It does not have any
intelligence; it's just operating on reflex....As the Ping-Pong Ball,
you feel very dizzy and you ache all over your body because you've
been bounced back and forth so much. The sense of pain is enormous.
That is the definition of samsara, or confused existence.
From "Awakening and Blossoming," in THE TRUTH OF SUFFERING: and the
Path of Liberation, Pages 65 to 66.

And so the reminder to simply be still and not swayed by the mind or or one's environment is reiterated.

Sit
Be still
Breathe in
Breath out
There is no intellegence in reasoning life
Simply live
Be alive

Smashin' the Ego

Did I mention that the universe made me stop in a fairly violent way recently? Well, I crashed into my karma one day when I was busy doing, going and gettin' things, too many things done. STOP. She shouted.
Stop.

Head on collision with stopped mass...car ruined...me fine but for a case of whiplash. I love my chiropractor and thank the Gods for yoga!

Look, listen and stop the madness.
Difficulty, conflict, illness and death are a part of life.
Breathe in...take in that which is good to your system...life giving oxygen and in that same breath be one with that which doesn't serve you....let it go and breathe out. Mourn and die. It is life and death in each breath. The pause is where each moment we either breathe again or not, to breathe again is life ... to stop death. So simple really.

In Buddhism the most poignant meditation, the one that will serve you well, is the death meditation because it is the thing that makes us all real. It is the only real and universal part of life. Death is inevitable.

So, in this stop. In your stops in life take a moment to evaluate and let go of the breath and life that doesn't serve you. For Hatha Mama, my stop was an opportunity to say goodbye to excessive giving. Do less for others and focus on my own well being....less teaching yoga, more doing yoga, less helping other families (less hours doing consults) and more focus on my family, less teaching others and more learning for me (thus the highly charged choice to go back to school for my Master's degree-yikes). Life is ever changing and quite a ride. Me-- I'm tryin' not to fight the flow of life. Being flexible like the trees in nature to weather's sometimes violent blow.

Foundation

Leaving my marriage was the hardest thing and the easiest thing I've ever done. Hard because I'd made a promise, a commitment. I still miss the idea of being married to the husband of my children. Sometimes I have an overwhelming sadness of loss. Loss of what could have been. I wanted something that I could never have with him. Other times I have sadness because I know that his family thinks that I left him. But, the truth is that he left me years before I physically left him. It's hard to know what started first though. My disappointment in Paul or his dissatisfaction in me. It really doesn't matter. We were incompatible and miserable. Not always though. There were good times and I sometimes remember those times and I'm sad. I wish there were more of them and I wish that we were still together (and happy like we never were) for our kids.

Sometimes I'm talking to him about the kid's schedules, 'cause that's all we talk about now, and my eyes will tear because of the history that we shared that now is gone. There are pictures but history is something that's shared and he and I don't share anything but the kids now. Over 17 years of living with someone you develop a language and experiences. We were in the Peace Corps, had three kids, lived in 6 cities, had 3 dogs, one cat, hamsters, and shared many vacations. On some perverse level I miss him and our history. I only have to talk to him on the phone to realize that what I miss about him is a fantasy of what I hoped for when I made the promise to marry him. I'd hoped he'd change. Marrying someone with potential is always a bad idea.

But, now I'm old with lots of history and starting over. Creating a new life for myself, new ways of relating with the person that I live with, learning from mistakes and trying to open myself to love and light and joy.

Meditating

There is a darkness each day. What some may call evil in their feeble attempts to just "be good", be a "non-sinner", or be perfect. This is horrible misinformation. I think the universe likes you to just pick up the subtle moments of darkness each moment and if you don't take these moment to just be, sit and breathe it in...whatever darkness there is right now--now is night...the rug will be pulled from under you and you will be forced to sit by watching your feet get lifted and your ass be smashed down so you can stop. Stop and see. See the shortness in your voice when you want to be left alone rather then meet someone else's needs, see the pain and fear of someday losing a loved one, see the goodbyes and heartbreak, the lies, the inability to ever be completely free of ego, the mistreatment of our planet...see it all. Be quiet, sit and be....to be able to see.