Hope through Reiki

     My health center, the Institute for Cancer and Center of Hope, offers Reiki sessions at no charge for those in cancer treatment. Reiki is a Japanese spiritual practice of hands-on healing that transfers universal energy, known as chi, through the palms of the practitioner to the body of the patient in the belief that such energy can promote healing and equilibrium. (Don't be distracted by the terminology, which in this case is eastern Buddhist. If you want western Christian terminology, Reiki is where a healer lays his hands on a believer and heals him through the power and spirit of God. Same thing.) I have had 2 sessions and have an appointment  this afternoon for my third.
 
    At the least, my sessions have provided an hour of relaxation and distraction from my disease. At the most, my sessions have given me moments of inspiration, flashes of understanding, where the meaning of the whole is suddenly clear. These moments are fleeting, but unforgettable. My written words will do little justice to the power of the moment, in the same way a photograph cannot wholly convey an experience. I will try, none the less.

    I seek healing. Notice I do not say "cure". Healing is about my body and my spirit. The body and spirit are complexly intertwined and feed each other. Physical pain can damage your spirit and spiritual pain can damage your body. Think about the last time you had a toothache and how grumpy you were because of the pain. It's that simple. Just as I would seek to treat the pain in my body with analgesics, I seek to treat the pain in my spirit, to heal my spirit in order to bring balance into my body (and heal my body) simultaneously. It's simple, but not easy.

     My sessions have helped me realize that I have some anger hiding in there. Anger at being sick, anger at my setback, anger at myself for letting myself slip back. How silly, I am mad at myself for letting me get cancer, again. Now that I can see that, I can acknowledge it and let go of anger's damaging effects. I have been depressed, sulky, ungracious and miserable these past few months. These are all outward expressions of my anger, I am acting out. My belly has been miserable too. I have painful cramping, sudden diarrhea, excess acid, general indigestion. I now chose to let go of my anger. When I notice my angry behavior, I can stop. I can change my focus to my target and find some compassion. My selfish anger can go. I can be done with that and I can heal. I can heal. Imagine that.

    P.S.  Imagining healing restores my hope. I didn't recognize that my hope was lost until this moment. Wow. My heart just might burst open. Um, thanks for listening to my breakthrough.

Weekend of Hope

    At the beginning of this month, I was able to travel to Vermont for the Annual Stowe Weekend of Hope. I experienced a weekend of health, hope, inspiration, learning and fellowship with cancer survivors, their friends and families, and the people of Stowe. Met some great people doing great things. Tried watercolor painting. Tried  hula hooping. Visited Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream factory. Spent an hour with a Buddhist monk. Tried the local brew. Ate more than my share of truly delicious bagels. Hiked the morning dew at the Trapp Family Lodge. Hung Buddhist prayer flags. Toured the local ghosts in the misty night of the full supermoon. Had fun! In the midst of all this fun activity, however,  lay the kernel for what I am searching. I was moved by the vitality surrounding me. Everybody I saw was affected by cancer. We had an unspoken kinship from which to move forward. I liken the feeling to the moment the bee-girl finds her own kind in that video by Blind Melon.  This moment....

    What's so powerful about a moment like this?  The recognition without explanation. The acceptance without speaking. The mere fact that you are not alone. The connection. Someone else knows what happened to you because it happened to them. We all have common ground. We can move on now. And we did. The closing ceremony was a program of exuberance for life. Young dancers who chose not a dark inward somber piece, but a colorfully strong flowing life reinforcing piece. Local singers and songwriters who performed songs of healing and connection. There's that word again, connection. It's important. Connection to each other, connection to your feelings, connection to your body, connection to  life.

    The very last performance was a song that I heard several times that weekend already. The first performance my eyes teared up a little, with a touch of sadness. The second performance my eyes rolled, with a touch of anger.  This final performance my eyes flowed, with overwhelming release. I liken it to the moment the crisis breaks, when you realize it's over, you made it, you're okay and you burst into tears. That moment. I want to share that song with you now. Maybe it will have some power for you, maybe not. And that's okay....

                        

          Peace. Love. Ice Cream.

The Shrine

     I have a shrine to Hope in my living room. Ever since my diagnosis, these little amulets of Hope have found their way to me. These tchotchkes are a powerful reminder of the human spirit. They elevate my own spirit. They represent the power of the human tendency toward optimism. Even in the darkest hours, humans somehow manage to maintain a spark of belief that things will get better. What is that capability? Faith in the divine? Total denial? Coping mechanism? Maybe all of the above.

    The items in my shrine have personal meaning. They are connected to the giver, an extension of that person to me, an expression of their thoughts for me and wishes for my well-being. The fact that someone else saw this trinket, thought of me and made sure that trinket made it me, imbues that little trinket with powerful mojo for soothing a troubled soul. It is no longer just a trinket, it is now a tangible talisman of Hope. When I arrange my totems, I can feel the wishes for my good health, both physical and metaphysical. That brings me solace and peace. There is no better state of being than that.

 My Shrine

Hope

Playing Scrabble this evening. Down to the last 4 tiles. Look down and there it is...........


H O P E. No arranging, just there, as a reminder. You always have hope.

Words

     I have been thinking about the power of words. I believe that the words you say to yourself ultimately come to fruition. That's why it is very important to choose those words carefully, to be conscious of the content of your train of thought. I also believe that it is impossible to always have a truly positive state of mind. Just recognize those negative thoughts and words you say to yourself and move forward. I counter my own negative words with a positive, carefully chosen mantra. I know I chose properly, because those words return to me in profound ways.

     This is one of my mantras. My cousin sent me these words. She showed me that words can be tactile and experienced in all your senses. In this way, Hope supports me, Hope nourishes me, Hope quenches me. Hope serves me well, but I also need more active words.

     These words found their way to me. Two of these came through my cousin, who might be an angel on earth. The other came through a dear friend from a woman who donated her own charm so that I might experience the power of healing. These are powerful talismans. I wear them over my heart. I wear one of them reversed, my skin touching the word. I have found myself pressing these words into my skin with my fingertips. It's an unconscious act in which I catch myself several times a day. I run my fingers over the words, I rub them over my lips, I press them into my sternum. I feel them on every level. I am afraid that I might wear these words out, but I know these are powerful words. These words are mine to use for now, then someday I will be able to pass them on to somebody who needs them more.