“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched; they must be felt with the heart.”
-Helen Keller
I met Cinnamon two months prior to finding out that I indeed did have cancer AGAIN in a different part of my eye. God does not give us more that we can manage, and I was clearly up for what was deemed as an “anomaly.” Cinnamon lead me to the well of peace, and I drank from it like the thirsty spirit that I am, lapping it up while licking my wounds. She helped me see my life’s challenges through different lenses, and I chose to do it. I welcomed the opportunity of cancer and chose to not suffer by creating the willingness to react differently than I had with the past three diagnoses. I chose to see the tumor as a challenging opportunity versus a curse. I began to see the value in wanting what I was needing for my spiritual growth. Of course, I did not want cancer; but the more I surrendered to the what is of my plight, the more peaceful I became. And the more room I had for the magic of love to surface...
Written in January, 2011
Let go and you will know how to flow. How often has someone (who means well) advises you to “Let go?” Yeah, yeah...whatever! may be your first thought, and F*you, comes shortly thereafter. Your addictive grip is so tight, you wouldn’t know how to loosen even one pinky, much less both hands. I get it. And although the two words are oh-so-very-trite, they are the only way to access your divine wisdom, your answer.
To even Dr. Char’s disbelief, I was diagnosed with cancer again at the age of forty-one. This time, in a completely different location of my eye, only occurring in 2 of every 10,000 people. The oncologist had no advice and the choice was mine. He hesitantly said...
“Well, let us know if you are willing to remove your eye, or we can radiate it again and try to save it.”
My initial reaction was to radiate until I spoke with my loved ones who feared for my life. I bought into their common sense argument and blocked myself from the answer, until, I let go.
One early and foggy morning, I decided to take a long walk along the shore of a well known tourist destination and my adopted hometown of Pismo Beach. I was determined to breathe, relax, and listen (prerequisites for letting go). About halfway, I sat on top of a semi-flat boulder, taking in the ocean view, unfettered by lack of time or other people’s opinion.
No answer. And yet, I managed to calm my palpable mind chatter. As I walked back to my car (despite no resolution), I was reminded...
Are you HERE Kathleen? It’s Me, God.
I want you to close your eyes and scroll your iPod. You will know when to stop. Play the song and remember to listen and hear the message.
For the record, I don’t have many “Thank you, Jesus” songs on my playlist, but I knew Fleetwood Mac, James Taylor, and my other favorites were from the spirit of love too; so, what the heck!?! I proceeded to open my vision and close my eyes, swiping through the plethora of artists on my iPod screen. Within thirty seconds, my instinct instructed me to pause and press play. The song was “Daniel” by Elton John. I immediately doubted the song...Hmm, is this really God’s answer, or do I need to continue scrolling? I can give the Creator a little lag time, right? Fortunately, I chose to trust my heart and listen to every word. Over and over again, I played the song. Until I was willing to not only listen, but HEAR the message.
“Daniel my brother,
You are older than me,
Do you still feel the pain,
Of the scars, that won’t heal?
Your eyes have died,
But you see more than I,
Daniel you’re a star in the face of the sky.”
I tasted my tears with gratitude and relief, peace ran through my veins, and I remembered that I was whole. So, did I have my answer? No. Answers often do not come in the way we think they should, and the man of many glasses sings it loud and clear. It wasn’t about whether I chose to radiate or remove my eye because by changing parts of my robotic-like programming, I was seeing through different lenses. I was still undecided but created peace regardless.
In the eye of the storm, I let go!
One week later, I had some minor complications with my eye, so The Kaptain and I made the decision to drive up to San Francisco and see Dr. Char. At this point, I was still relishing in a peaceful state of ambivalence. As my husband and I spoke with the doctor, I asked him again what his thoughts were. This time, he answered me, comparing my eye to a spare tire (although I was legally blind in my left eye, I still had some vision). He said, “I don’t know about you, but I tend to like spare tires.” With that, I instantly knew what to do, and the decision was easy to make. I chose to radiate my tumor and keep my eye. Eight years later, I still have peripheral vision with no complications.
