NOTE: this list is certainly not exhaustive, linear nor do they imply that I have "mastered" such skills or insights; for many of them, it is just the beginning!
My 42nd year, I...
* started wearing rubber gloves to wash the dishes.
* practiced and practiced and practiced and practice . . . listening to my own heart.
* began drinking shots of 100% cranberry juice.
* had my left breast removed. And, day by day, got/get closer to my heart (but you don't have to have a breast removed to get closer to your heart . . . its just how I have had to flip it for myself.)
* had many bonfires in the Fall and, in connection with the previous star, had a spontaneous bonfire ceremony honoring my left breast the night before my mastectomy surgery.
* sat (literally) with my girls more than ever.
* found my voice in an unexpected way through sharing my journey with breast cancer via video messages on FaceBook.
* got the shortest haircut of my life.
* took seriously the job of opening my heart (on my yoga mat) so that I could receive all of the goodness that was coming my way.
* heard from friends from all different stages of my life and from years ago and was so deeply touched and dare I say transformed by people's goodness and generosity.
* cried in public settings more than ever and was so ok with it; in fact, I invited it in. One day I said to Matt, "I may just cry the whole day." And I pretty much did.
* hiked a mountain in the winter.
* took an exorbitant amount of medication and laughed at times when I would work to convince myself that I was just going through a really hardcore detox.
* threw three birthday parties for my three girls: a 2nd birthday, a 4th and a 7th (a little early.)
* found a prayer that really suites me: "om mani padme hum." (the jewel of the heart of the lotus.) And, although I probably sat less, prayed more than ever in unexpected places like on various medical scanning devices or radiation beds or my very own bed.
* allowed myself to experience the raw emotion of anger. And noticed how very close it lives to sadness.
* let my husband put my kids to bed most nights for four months or maybe more. And do the dishes after. With a grateful (and tired) heart.
* weaned my third daughter in a way that I never expected. God, was she gracious.
* wore my pajamas during the day (this was harder than it sounds.)
* brought on tears in other people just by my sheer presence.
* read one beautiful novel.
* put my barefeet in the earth (and laid down on the earth) more than ever before. In fact, I felt a slight panic come on in anticipation of the first snow.
* watched a couple of movies during the day (once I accepted the pajamas thing.)
* experienced feeling alone and was also aware that this is undoubtedly and ironically the most common of human sufferings.
* created huge hearts in the snow and traced them while praying when my dear friend tragically lost her husband. It was all I knew how to do.
* became an aunt three times over. And each time a well of joy and hope for new life.
* began learning that the capacity to give love and to receive love has absolutely nothing to do with being perfect.
* said thank you and meant it probably more than ever in my life.
* made snow angels.
* had days when the only thing that would get me out of bed was the promise and purpose of a walk in the snow.
* let my family and friends take care of me and experienced the power of a strong support system (including my own practice of yoga and meditation and a darn good therapist.)
* Missed most of my girls' school events. And cried when I realized that I could go to my youngest daughter's pizza party at her school without fearing germs.
* got better at noticing the mental "pits" that can lead to great suffering (any thought that may begin with..."I should have...: if only I had . . . ; maybe it was the . . .")
* planned a cross-country road trip in my mind.
* began understanding that being with my own suffering (and delight) has the potential to widen my circle of compassion for other beings.
* found that it is often the grandiosity of nature that can bellow, "No. Big. Deal."
* started using a neti pot (albeit not religiously.)
