I'm near eighty and it is different, no midpassage here , no summer forests , no slow dreaming, only the autumn leaves falling at the end of life. But yet the seeds of life have been sown , for all this time, and now the reaping of love that was given even in the face of tragedy and turmoil, gratitude even when dreams were slashed to the very core , and overcoming life's Leaves that never were unfurled, I have reaped what I have given and I rest knowing that one little thing
I am almost there in my mind, Mary Lou. My soul continues to wander/wonder. My body trying to decide. I am at this moment appreciating shifting at the water’s edge, watching the sun making it’s way up
Wonderfully said. My father is in his mid-80s and has not found that peace and rest in knowing what he reaped. Any advice so I could help him find that peace would be helpful.
yes Erin , as we age and especially when we get near the end to life we tend to have regrets and think about all the stupid things we did when we were young, and especially the things we did not do that we wished we had done. We have to fight these thoughts and think about all the wonderful and good things that we did. The truth is, your father was born for a reason and look what one of the reasons was: YOU yes wonderful you. So tell him thank you thank you dad for being my father and bringing me into this world and I love you very much. I hope this helps.
Thank you! My sisters and I are very close to my father and my step-mother. My mother died of cancer when I was twenty. He remarried and has had a remarkable life. Yet, sadly, he sees our country and the world around him coming apart. He feels that his generation is leaving this generation worse off and it worries him.
I 'm concerned about the same thing Erin. This is where we need to trust God to get them through. In my generation our parents thought we were all going to hell because of Elvis Presley and we somehow got through it. Now, at this time, I agree, Elvis looks like a saint. I think every generation goes through the same thing. I'm so happy you have sisters to help you: that is a blessing
Most of us that are in our eighties feel as your father does. My friends in this senior building often repeat this, those that don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Our generation fought so hard for rights and laws that are being taken away. We don’t seethe younger generations realizing what is happening.
We hoped to leave this world better but it’s dissolving before our eyes.
Erin, Do you think doing a "life review" would be helpful to your father? I have a friend who does these, it's eight phone sessions that started as a hospice service; he is branching it out to all ages and currently does not charge. Let me know! You can find me on LinkedIn at Ellen O'Connell Ingraham.
Three weeks from tomorrow I start a six week journey to Spain to hike the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. The Camino Francés. During that time I will celebrate the two year birthday of my grandson Evan and, on the same day, my two year anniversary of being diagnosed with CML, a treatable and incurable form of leukemia. This two year journey has taken me to the very core and to the very edges of myself, I have worked hard to recover from illness, recover myself, I’ve peeled back the layers, stripped away all the unnecessary debris of a life lived in chronic stress and people pleasing. My goal each day on the Camino is to get up and walk, it’s going to be that simple.
It feels like a big reset button, as though I have taken the time needed to make the changes to my hard drive and now I get to rest and walk, rest and walk, then come back and see how the changes I have made inform my life moving forward and what’s next for me as I reach 60.
This sounds like an extraordinary journey! I love the simplicity of the daily directive to simply get up, walk, rest. May it be the reset you deserve and so much more. Also, I hope you pack a journal! ♥️♥️♥️
I shall and a tiny water color set. My brother is coming from New Zealand to join me, we barely know one another, he left home when I was six and this year he will be 72! He’s very quiet and I am looking forward to getting to know him and being quiet together.
Oh, Kate! I resonate so much with your comment. My husband and I walked the Camino del Norte last August & September. It took us 30 days and then we spent 6 days in Santiago afterwards. You will be forever changed at the end. Our 22-year old son was running and hit by a car and killed in October 2022. We kept hearing about the Caminos in our grief support groups. Finally, we both took leave of absences from our jobs and flew to Spain. We live in FL. It is exactly what you said, rest and walk, rest and walk, day after day. Our backpacks were 12&14 lbs and we only had two sets of clothing. It was so liberating and life resetting. When we got back, we said everyone needs to do that. It’s not easy, but worth it. We cried so much the first 2 weeks and about quit, but we didn’t. After that two week mark, every day we started to feel lighter and lighter. We journaled every evening. We met hikers from 31 countries and made some lifelong friends. I wish you all the best. Buen Camino! Much love. 💜
Firstly, I am so sorry for your loss. I never thought my life would look like this, three sisters all diagnosed with cancer, one gone too soon, then a devastating accident involving two family members last Thanksgiving. Sitting in the ICU as I write, still, after about 112 days. Thank you so much for sharing that about your Camino experience. I’m curious, how many liters were your packs?
Buen Camino to you both! I walked part of the Norte in 2018 as a way to make peace with my body after both cancer and infant loss. It was transformative, even just the 2 weeks I had. Hoping I can get back to it again. Traveling mercies to Kate. 👣💕👣
Thanks Kate. I lived in Charlotte at the time (worked at Myers Park Presbyterian.) I did a lot of greenway training. Sending you prayers for strength and wonder as you walk!
Charlotte NC, originally England. Three kiwi siblings because that’s what happens when your parents move country while still having kids! My pack is a 55 and I know I will fill it if given the chance! I want to get a smaller pack, this may be the impetus I need. I want to be self sufficient with my belongings. Weirdly that’s important to me to carry my world for this time.
I've heard that the best way to prep for such a trip is to put only the bare essentials in your pack, and then take half of those out. :) Travel mercies, Kate!
Thank you!! The preparation has been interesting. I have been keeping my pack by my bed for about three weeks now and pick it up and put it down regularly, I’m getting to know it. I also got a pack that opens right down the middle so I can open it flat and see everything…and maybe I’ll even take things out!
I wish you the best on your exciting journey! Have you read Timothy Egan’s “A Pilgrimage to Eternity”? He walked the Via Francigena from Canterbury to Rome and wrote this wonderful account of his experiences. It was recommended to me by a friend who walked the Camino.
I hope you’ll share some of your adventures with us!
The simplicity of getting up and walking on the trail really appeals to the lifelong non-athlete in me. You sound like you have a great inspiring outlook on life. Happy trails...
Kate, I'm so excited for you! Hiking the Camino is on my bucket list. If you're not already familiar, may I recommend the poems Santiago and Finisterre by David Whyte as companions on your journey.
This quite so powerful that you chose Suleika: : “I wanted success violently. But my ability just wouldn’t back me up. It just insisted on moving more slowly. And, in retrospect, I have to say I’m really grateful for that.” Lover this! If we’re fortunate illness will bring us grace, and force us to be in the present moment without expectations. That’s usually lifelong work and many of us don’t get it until illness strikes. For years living with so much pain in my body it forced me to stay present. I could not escape except thru drugs, but it’s been important to me to have clarity and not forget I’m in the present moment and whatever dreams, projects, passions or have will have to be taken slowly one day at a time and for me I only have this moment to be present with, because I’m in the land of uncertainty. Many of us, myself included, have this idea of what our life should be, and guess what, it ain’t going to happen that way and the idea takes away from the present moment--our life! Grace comes with the acceptance of my life as it is, alongside letting go of expectations, which is a hard one, I’m still working on. Suleika your illness, as you know, doesn’t define you, and as much as your challenges has forced you to let go of expectations, you still soar and are always inviting us and inspiring us to walk along or crawl if we have to soar with you on this journey called life. This is what arose in me this am with this prompt. May I visualize walking hand in hand with each of you into the unknown which is called life and do it with a sense of love, many times fear, and the wonder of curiosity, and may the path I walk be consistent letting go of expectations. Nothing like sitting here in the dark, at 5am in NYC and writing from my heart that is full of love.
I couldn’t agree more with this, “Suleika your illness, as you know, doesn’t define you, and as much as your challenges have forced you to let go of expectations, you still soar and are always inviting us and inspiring us to walk along or crawl if we have to soar with you on this journey called life” and I’m grateful for every step!🙏🏾
I moaned out loud when I read Ashleigh’s prompt. There is a before and after. This community gives me words and Hope as I define it. I struggled with the anniversary of my son’s death this week- a beautiful soul who died at age 24 as the result of landlord neglect in NYC. Simultaneously, this week my daughter’s blood disorder became active, as we hang on every platelet count that is decreasing for no known reason I am in remission from Chronic Leukemia after 18 mos of treatment. Yet, I come here & get permission to notice the sunlight tulips, alive with its own life force, on a table before me. Keep looking friends, slow down, bring on the 30 day journal. Whatever gets you through the night. 🌷
Oh, Jane. My heart broke as I read about your son. I’m so deeply sorry. Wrapping you and your family, and especially your daughter, in all my love ❤️🩹
I think noticing the tulips is part of your gigantic leafing -- making space to capture more light, to be open to life even when it seems unbearable. 🌷
Mar 19, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
I’m sneaking up on my 68th birthday in a few months, and everything’s different from this side of life. I’ve had three skin cancer surgeries, two on my back, and one on my nose that has changed the topography of the face staring back at me from the rear view mirror. I use that particular mirror metaphorically because it seems to hold all the moments of my life, up until today.
I’ve also had 1/3 of my colon removed and I feel as though I’m in a holding pattern sometimes. My face in that mirror shows the strain of the unknown and I have a few pretty impressive wrinkles. Gravity has helped itself to my body, and I know I have to obey gravity because it’s The Law. 🙂
But this morning’s lovely words from both you Suleika, and you, Ashleigh, and all of you wonderful, gentle people who have posted here, remind me that we’re all in this together. The isolation for me is self-imposed. There is no line I cannot cross should I choose to step over it, and if I feel boxed in, the box is of my own making.
Today is today, and it’s my choice to make it meaningful. When faced with seemingly insurmountable circumstances, I would say to my Grandma, “I don’t know what to do.” Her reply, “Stay where you are, or keep on going.” So here I go. . .
She saved me so many times, along with her son, my dad. Those two were my rocks and unwavering supporters before I was even old enough to understand that I needed them.
I love that you love her words, because it keeps her energy right here in the present. Thank you for lifting her up. ♥️
I just had my nose/face rearranged from skin cancer as well. My fourth major skin cancer procedure. It’s been two weeks now and it’s just hitting me now that my face is forever changed. I am also likely going to be having a bone marrow transplant very soon to treat a disease no one can see but has been making me very very sick for years. After all of these years of living with a disease no one can see, having such an obvious tell of my failing health out in front for all to see is... Honestly I’m not quite sure what it is yet. A relief? Devastating? A preparation for the far more telling signs that await me come transplant time? I don’t know yet. But I wanted to tell you you’re not alone because it was a remarkable relief to me to come here tonight and read someone’s story so similar to mine. Good luck on your journey!
Hello dear Jackie. I know what you mean about a disease no one can see. It takes a physical, invisible toll, and with that, for me, leaves me feeling as though I have to explain or prove that I’m dealing with an illness. The last biopsy on my face in January was benign, but it was a type of cell that can indicate a genetic syndrome that would put me at a greater risk for colon or rectal cancer. If I have more of those types, they will want to do genetic testing for it. Presently I’m going in for body checks every four months.
No one, including me wants to have a discussion about how having part of my colon removed affects my daily life, but it has changed me. You are the first person with whom I’ve communicated who has gone through drastic procedures similar to me.
I’m sorry that you’ve had to face all that you’re going through, but at the same time I’m thankful that you reached out and shared what’s happening with you. It’s comforting in a way that others facing the unknown would understand, and I appreciate so very much that you posted what is happening to you. I wish you the very best results in what lies ahead. ♥️
Mar 19, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
I think the seeds I planted were the dozens of resumes I sent out during my recent 4 months of unemployment. Three weeks into my job (which is very busy - hiring 4 people and close to 100 resumes for those positions, in addition to learning my role) I realize how much I need to work. To have structure in my days and weeks. I don’t think I can retire unless I have the means to travel -a lot! I thought I’d never find a job being over 60, let alone one that I would love.
Mentoring is so meaningful and spending my days in an organization where “people come first” is the principal core value, I feel so very fortunate. It’s never too late to take on new challenges.
Mar 19, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
So many cities await me that i will not see-promised trips have vanished. Words actually were false-that is not my want. I have taken myself pretty darn far to Vietnam near the border of China, Central Turkey and Philadelphia. India was a dream since childhood, Tibet the Khyber Pass. As a kid, I had a globe and would point my finger and turn it to a dream. Now it is 5:30 AM in my zone and I am in bed with my kitty Olympia-she trusts and loves me-road well traveled. However, I would not mind getting that old pack out -to re-coin a cliche going "Parts Unknown"
Mar 19, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
After the loss of my husband a few years ago - I experienced profound dislocation, isolation. I lost my partner, my protector my purpose - I don't know who I am anymore. And yet in that 30 plus year marriage I cultivated an ability to love and feel more deeply. I know that the roots of that remain in a capacity, a potential, a possibility. I hope to see new growth.
Mar 19, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
So true are the words written, for they come from our soul. The fingers wrapped around the pen. The hand attached. The arms connected to the body. The heart transmitting to the mind to translate the information , feeling ,release and courage into reality. To sit with , accept and carry on with love.
I am seventy-one now, and there are decades behind me filled first with mental illness (20's-30's) after trauma and loss, and then a broken neck and subsequent pain, and then two brain surgeries. At times I have felt robbed of big chunks of my life. But I have my dreams and I still work toward them, painting every day and learning Adobe programs to become a designer. Sometimes I fear time...I won't be able to reach my dreams (!) but then I realize the gift this encumbered life has given me...I savor simple pleasures and the time I have "being" instead of "doing," and I know if I spend my days doing things that fuel my passions and give me pleasure, I have fulfilled living intentionally. To love and be loved is most important...and that I have and do daily.
Mar 19, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
I just wanted to say that I could relate when you wrote that you worked like you were running out of time. I came pretty close to death after an accidental sliced ovary during a routine IVF surgery resulted in massive internal bleeding. I didn’t know what I was experiencing at the time, just that I had come home from the clinic and was in increasingly acute pain, so I casually took an Uber to the nearest ER in park slope only to learn quite quickly that a great deal of my blood was free floating outside of my veins.
As I continued to lose blood- nearly half- my brain sent out a ‘you are dying- this is not a drill’ signal like my own internal fire alarm. And as I was wheeled in to emergency surgery, my mind filled with all the things I wanted to do and places I wanted to go. I didn’t want to die.
Two days after surgery I limped back to work- though my body was not ready and my stitches were too raw for real clothes. And I didn’t have to- my job is pretty flexible and it was clearly too soon- but I wanted to be alive and the only way to be alive was to scrape and claw my way to life. And then it’s a bit like momentum- you’ve just propelled yourself into life, and it’s hard to stop running.
Anyway, just wanted to say that you don’t have to feel bad for pushing yourself or not pushing yourself. You are where you are, and if you’re pushing yourself like crazy, it’s likely because you have to. There’s no comparing where you are now to where other people are. You may wish you were able to lead a ‘normal’ life, but I think now, that there’s no such thing.
Mar 19, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
Thank you for the lines from Gilbert. I’m pondering how most trees can only leaf gigantically after a period of winter loss. Also how my oldest child used to say the trees were “greening up.” Looking forward to April’s writing.
I love this phrase too. Suleika’s comment to me last week had me thinking about this all week- blossoming after loss- letting space just be empty for a bit- I wrote about it this week if either of you wants to check it out
Ooh Mary, I just read your beautiful blooming reflection. Anyone who mentions Frog and Toad, Suleika, and a link aboutThich Nhat Hahn in the same post is someone I want to know. Just subscribed.
So so glad to meet you. And thanks for joining us in that sacred space. If you haven’t listened to that episode of On Being with Thich Nhat Hahn, it’s a worthy listen. I wish I could have studied with him.
I just learned yesterday, that one of my favorite writing teachers who incorporates meditation into her writing practice studied with him, and it made so much more sense to me. Why I was enjoying her practice so much. She’s offering a free course this weds and Thursday at three different times if that interests you
Wow. At about to be 73, in the company of various uncertainties, what cities and forests await? What have my planted seeds laid in store, waiting to now burst forth? What a thing to contemplate... What an opportunity to put something in motion... intentional, purposeful, yet meandering and playful???
I agree Sandra. My brain has actively been dumping things that really don't matter much, and life has been proven to be more exciting observing what my seeds sown over a lifetime produce. The clutter of meaningless stuff -- the wonder of the footsteps I've laid......
I, too, had cancer--first in my 30s when pregnant, then it came back 15 years later. I feel like I have been on borrowed time and totally understand the desire for success. I have a wonderful husband and daughter. I was a teacher. I volunteer on the South Side of Chicago. I started my own Substack because writing was a dream of mine. I travel when I can. Yet, there is still that gnawing ache that it hasn't been enough, a feeling that all of the health issues I have faced are supposed to mean something more. No epiphanies here. Just an unexplainable longing and a question: Has my life mattered?
Oh yes, your life matters. Your daughter is here because you matter. Sometimes the search for extravagant meaning can cloud the everyday miracles that explain our existence. You’re still here, and that matters.
Mar 19, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
I read this and couldn’t help but hear the echoes of stories from people not who discovered their “slowness” was from chronic illness, but from neurodiversity. In my case, a mid-30s woman ultimately diagnosed with Autism and a dissociative disorder, I had to reach an infuriating (and eventually freeing) conclusion: I am slow, I move slowly through this world.
Whatever frenetic pace of a pretend self I had shelled inside had finally broken down, irreparable from years of performative self-abuse. Moving slowly in a world that prized the efficient initially felt like a death sentence
Mar 19, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
(Pressed “send” accidentally, ironically because I was trying to type too quickly.)
Who wants a slow editor? A slow running partner? A slow eater? A slow reader? A slow thinker?
It took a long time to surrender to the beingness of slow. Not just a few days a week but every day. I have my moments where I feel on top of the world and want to race everybody around me just to show I can do it! But what would that sit in my lap at the end of the day? Not much for me, anyways.
I have had to learn to bring my whole, slow self to the table in things I love. In how I edit, how I read (There’s no book club for slow readers!), how I mother and nurture. It’s terribly exposing but I know there is something that steeps better in my life when I take my cues from my edges.
I'm near eighty and it is different, no midpassage here , no summer forests , no slow dreaming, only the autumn leaves falling at the end of life. But yet the seeds of life have been sown , for all this time, and now the reaping of love that was given even in the face of tragedy and turmoil, gratitude even when dreams were slashed to the very core , and overcoming life's Leaves that never were unfurled, I have reaped what I have given and I rest knowing that one little thing
I am almost there in my mind, Mary Lou. My soul continues to wander/wonder. My body trying to decide. I am at this moment appreciating shifting at the water’s edge, watching the sun making it’s way up
that's beautiful Sandra
Wow Mary Lou! So well said! And guess what? You sowed a beautiful seed today!
Wonderfully said. My father is in his mid-80s and has not found that peace and rest in knowing what he reaped. Any advice so I could help him find that peace would be helpful.
yes Erin , as we age and especially when we get near the end to life we tend to have regrets and think about all the stupid things we did when we were young, and especially the things we did not do that we wished we had done. We have to fight these thoughts and think about all the wonderful and good things that we did. The truth is, your father was born for a reason and look what one of the reasons was: YOU yes wonderful you. So tell him thank you thank you dad for being my father and bringing me into this world and I love you very much. I hope this helps.
Thank you! My sisters and I are very close to my father and my step-mother. My mother died of cancer when I was twenty. He remarried and has had a remarkable life. Yet, sadly, he sees our country and the world around him coming apart. He feels that his generation is leaving this generation worse off and it worries him.
I 'm concerned about the same thing Erin. This is where we need to trust God to get them through. In my generation our parents thought we were all going to hell because of Elvis Presley and we somehow got through it. Now, at this time, I agree, Elvis looks like a saint. I think every generation goes through the same thing. I'm so happy you have sisters to help you: that is a blessing
Most of us that are in our eighties feel as your father does. My friends in this senior building often repeat this, those that don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Our generation fought so hard for rights and laws that are being taken away. We don’t seethe younger generations realizing what is happening.
We hoped to leave this world better but it’s dissolving before our eyes.
Erin, Do you think doing a "life review" would be helpful to your father? I have a friend who does these, it's eight phone sessions that started as a hospice service; he is branching it out to all ages and currently does not charge. Let me know! You can find me on LinkedIn at Ellen O'Connell Ingraham.
I believe it would help him but getting him onboard would be a different thing entirely. Thank you!
💙💙
This is just what I needed today. Thank you❤️
Mary, Thank you for this reflection. It is what I’ve been trying to understand, feel and accept.
Three weeks from tomorrow I start a six week journey to Spain to hike the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. The Camino Francés. During that time I will celebrate the two year birthday of my grandson Evan and, on the same day, my two year anniversary of being diagnosed with CML, a treatable and incurable form of leukemia. This two year journey has taken me to the very core and to the very edges of myself, I have worked hard to recover from illness, recover myself, I’ve peeled back the layers, stripped away all the unnecessary debris of a life lived in chronic stress and people pleasing. My goal each day on the Camino is to get up and walk, it’s going to be that simple.
It feels like a big reset button, as though I have taken the time needed to make the changes to my hard drive and now I get to rest and walk, rest and walk, then come back and see how the changes I have made inform my life moving forward and what’s next for me as I reach 60.
This sounds like an extraordinary journey! I love the simplicity of the daily directive to simply get up, walk, rest. May it be the reset you deserve and so much more. Also, I hope you pack a journal! ♥️♥️♥️
I shall and a tiny water color set. My brother is coming from New Zealand to join me, we barely know one another, he left home when I was six and this year he will be 72! He’s very quiet and I am looking forward to getting to know him and being quiet together.
❤️❤️❤️
Oh, Kate! I resonate so much with your comment. My husband and I walked the Camino del Norte last August & September. It took us 30 days and then we spent 6 days in Santiago afterwards. You will be forever changed at the end. Our 22-year old son was running and hit by a car and killed in October 2022. We kept hearing about the Caminos in our grief support groups. Finally, we both took leave of absences from our jobs and flew to Spain. We live in FL. It is exactly what you said, rest and walk, rest and walk, day after day. Our backpacks were 12&14 lbs and we only had two sets of clothing. It was so liberating and life resetting. When we got back, we said everyone needs to do that. It’s not easy, but worth it. We cried so much the first 2 weeks and about quit, but we didn’t. After that two week mark, every day we started to feel lighter and lighter. We journaled every evening. We met hikers from 31 countries and made some lifelong friends. I wish you all the best. Buen Camino! Much love. 💜
Firstly, I am so sorry for your loss. I never thought my life would look like this, three sisters all diagnosed with cancer, one gone too soon, then a devastating accident involving two family members last Thanksgiving. Sitting in the ICU as I write, still, after about 112 days. Thank you so much for sharing that about your Camino experience. I’m curious, how many liters were your packs?
Buen Camino to you both! I walked part of the Norte in 2018 as a way to make peace with my body after both cancer and infant loss. It was transformative, even just the 2 weeks I had. Hoping I can get back to it again. Traveling mercies to Kate. 👣💕👣
Thank you Julie. I am thankful to hear your story too and sorry for your loss.
Thanks Kate. I lived in Charlotte at the time (worked at Myers Park Presbyterian.) I did a lot of greenway training. Sending you prayers for strength and wonder as you walk!
I am sorry for your loss, grateful you are sharing your story
45L We went as light as possible and it was exhilarating! Where are you from?
Charlotte NC, originally England. Three kiwi siblings because that’s what happens when your parents move country while still having kids! My pack is a 55 and I know I will fill it if given the chance! I want to get a smaller pack, this may be the impetus I need. I want to be self sufficient with my belongings. Weirdly that’s important to me to carry my world for this time.
I've heard that the best way to prep for such a trip is to put only the bare essentials in your pack, and then take half of those out. :) Travel mercies, Kate!
Thank you!! The preparation has been interesting. I have been keeping my pack by my bed for about three weeks now and pick it up and put it down regularly, I’m getting to know it. I also got a pack that opens right down the middle so I can open it flat and see everything…and maybe I’ll even take things out!
My condolences on your grievous loss. My admiration for picking up the pieces, such as they are, and going on El Camino. Soul hugs.
Sending healing prayers 🙏
Kate,
I wish you the best on your exciting journey! Have you read Timothy Egan’s “A Pilgrimage to Eternity”? He walked the Via Francigena from Canterbury to Rome and wrote this wonderful account of his experiences. It was recommended to me by a friend who walked the Camino.
I hope you’ll share some of your adventures with us!
May your journey be safe and restful. Enjoy every step along the way, Kate.
The simplicity of getting up and walking on the trail really appeals to the lifelong non-athlete in me. You sound like you have a great inspiring outlook on life. Happy trails...
Kate, I'm so excited for you! Hiking the Camino is on my bucket list. If you're not already familiar, may I recommend the poems Santiago and Finisterre by David Whyte as companions on your journey.
This quite so powerful that you chose Suleika: : “I wanted success violently. But my ability just wouldn’t back me up. It just insisted on moving more slowly. And, in retrospect, I have to say I’m really grateful for that.” Lover this! If we’re fortunate illness will bring us grace, and force us to be in the present moment without expectations. That’s usually lifelong work and many of us don’t get it until illness strikes. For years living with so much pain in my body it forced me to stay present. I could not escape except thru drugs, but it’s been important to me to have clarity and not forget I’m in the present moment and whatever dreams, projects, passions or have will have to be taken slowly one day at a time and for me I only have this moment to be present with, because I’m in the land of uncertainty. Many of us, myself included, have this idea of what our life should be, and guess what, it ain’t going to happen that way and the idea takes away from the present moment--our life! Grace comes with the acceptance of my life as it is, alongside letting go of expectations, which is a hard one, I’m still working on. Suleika your illness, as you know, doesn’t define you, and as much as your challenges has forced you to let go of expectations, you still soar and are always inviting us and inspiring us to walk along or crawl if we have to soar with you on this journey called life. This is what arose in me this am with this prompt. May I visualize walking hand in hand with each of you into the unknown which is called life and do it with a sense of love, many times fear, and the wonder of curiosity, and may the path I walk be consistent letting go of expectations. Nothing like sitting here in the dark, at 5am in NYC and writing from my heart that is full of love.
Thank you for these gorgeous words, dear Sherri.
I couldn’t agree more with this, “Suleika your illness, as you know, doesn’t define you, and as much as your challenges have forced you to let go of expectations, you still soar and are always inviting us and inspiring us to walk along or crawl if we have to soar with you on this journey called life” and I’m grateful for every step!🙏🏾
Love your words. ❤️
💙💙💙
I moaned out loud when I read Ashleigh’s prompt. There is a before and after. This community gives me words and Hope as I define it. I struggled with the anniversary of my son’s death this week- a beautiful soul who died at age 24 as the result of landlord neglect in NYC. Simultaneously, this week my daughter’s blood disorder became active, as we hang on every platelet count that is decreasing for no known reason I am in remission from Chronic Leukemia after 18 mos of treatment. Yet, I come here & get permission to notice the sunlight tulips, alive with its own life force, on a table before me. Keep looking friends, slow down, bring on the 30 day journal. Whatever gets you through the night. 🌷
Oh, Jane. My heart broke as I read about your son. I’m so deeply sorry. Wrapping you and your family, and especially your daughter, in all my love ❤️🩹
Thank you for everything. There are no words❤️🌷
Thank you Jane. I’m sorry for the loss of your son, and holding your daughter and you close today.
Thank you so much 🌷🌷🌷💓
I think noticing the tulips is part of your gigantic leafing -- making space to capture more light, to be open to life even when it seems unbearable. 🌷
I love this. Tulips remind me of my mother. ❤️
You are in my prayers.
Thank you Ashleigh. Carrying puts it beautifully. So kind of you. Xo
I’m sneaking up on my 68th birthday in a few months, and everything’s different from this side of life. I’ve had three skin cancer surgeries, two on my back, and one on my nose that has changed the topography of the face staring back at me from the rear view mirror. I use that particular mirror metaphorically because it seems to hold all the moments of my life, up until today.
I’ve also had 1/3 of my colon removed and I feel as though I’m in a holding pattern sometimes. My face in that mirror shows the strain of the unknown and I have a few pretty impressive wrinkles. Gravity has helped itself to my body, and I know I have to obey gravity because it’s The Law. 🙂
But this morning’s lovely words from both you Suleika, and you, Ashleigh, and all of you wonderful, gentle people who have posted here, remind me that we’re all in this together. The isolation for me is self-imposed. There is no line I cannot cross should I choose to step over it, and if I feel boxed in, the box is of my own making.
Today is today, and it’s my choice to make it meaningful. When faced with seemingly insurmountable circumstances, I would say to my Grandma, “I don’t know what to do.” Her reply, “Stay where you are, or keep on going.” So here I go. . .
Love your grandma's words so much, Peg—so so much!
She saved me so many times, along with her son, my dad. Those two were my rocks and unwavering supporters before I was even old enough to understand that I needed them.
I love that you love her words, because it keeps her energy right here in the present. Thank you for lifting her up. ♥️
Beautiful!
I just had my nose/face rearranged from skin cancer as well. My fourth major skin cancer procedure. It’s been two weeks now and it’s just hitting me now that my face is forever changed. I am also likely going to be having a bone marrow transplant very soon to treat a disease no one can see but has been making me very very sick for years. After all of these years of living with a disease no one can see, having such an obvious tell of my failing health out in front for all to see is... Honestly I’m not quite sure what it is yet. A relief? Devastating? A preparation for the far more telling signs that await me come transplant time? I don’t know yet. But I wanted to tell you you’re not alone because it was a remarkable relief to me to come here tonight and read someone’s story so similar to mine. Good luck on your journey!
Hello dear Jackie. I know what you mean about a disease no one can see. It takes a physical, invisible toll, and with that, for me, leaves me feeling as though I have to explain or prove that I’m dealing with an illness. The last biopsy on my face in January was benign, but it was a type of cell that can indicate a genetic syndrome that would put me at a greater risk for colon or rectal cancer. If I have more of those types, they will want to do genetic testing for it. Presently I’m going in for body checks every four months.
No one, including me wants to have a discussion about how having part of my colon removed affects my daily life, but it has changed me. You are the first person with whom I’ve communicated who has gone through drastic procedures similar to me.
I’m sorry that you’ve had to face all that you’re going through, but at the same time I’m thankful that you reached out and shared what’s happening with you. It’s comforting in a way that others facing the unknown would understand, and I appreciate so very much that you posted what is happening to you. I wish you the very best results in what lies ahead. ♥️
Thank you! It is always a wonderful feeling to know you’re not alone and there are others out there going through similar things ❤️
I think the seeds I planted were the dozens of resumes I sent out during my recent 4 months of unemployment. Three weeks into my job (which is very busy - hiring 4 people and close to 100 resumes for those positions, in addition to learning my role) I realize how much I need to work. To have structure in my days and weeks. I don’t think I can retire unless I have the means to travel -a lot! I thought I’d never find a job being over 60, let alone one that I would love.
Mentoring is so meaningful and spending my days in an organization where “people come first” is the principal core value, I feel so very fortunate. It’s never too late to take on new challenges.
I remember you sharing about these struggles—so amazing to hear that your labors are bearing fruit!
So many cities await me that i will not see-promised trips have vanished. Words actually were false-that is not my want. I have taken myself pretty darn far to Vietnam near the border of China, Central Turkey and Philadelphia. India was a dream since childhood, Tibet the Khyber Pass. As a kid, I had a globe and would point my finger and turn it to a dream. Now it is 5:30 AM in my zone and I am in bed with my kitty Olympia-she trusts and loves me-road well traveled. However, I would not mind getting that old pack out -to re-coin a cliche going "Parts Unknown"
Much love to you and to Miss Olympia
Parts unknown xo
After the loss of my husband a few years ago - I experienced profound dislocation, isolation. I lost my partner, my protector my purpose - I don't know who I am anymore. And yet in that 30 plus year marriage I cultivated an ability to love and feel more deeply. I know that the roots of that remain in a capacity, a potential, a possibility. I hope to see new growth.
The City of Freedom
The Seed long buried and suddenly, unexpectedly, germinating
That's what I wish for
And am afraid I will never find.
“The city of freedom”—yes, yes, yes ♥️
So true are the words written, for they come from our soul. The fingers wrapped around the pen. The hand attached. The arms connected to the body. The heart transmitting to the mind to translate the information , feeling ,release and courage into reality. To sit with , accept and carry on with love.
I love how you expressed yourself! ❤️
I am seventy-one now, and there are decades behind me filled first with mental illness (20's-30's) after trauma and loss, and then a broken neck and subsequent pain, and then two brain surgeries. At times I have felt robbed of big chunks of my life. But I have my dreams and I still work toward them, painting every day and learning Adobe programs to become a designer. Sometimes I fear time...I won't be able to reach my dreams (!) but then I realize the gift this encumbered life has given me...I savor simple pleasures and the time I have "being" instead of "doing," and I know if I spend my days doing things that fuel my passions and give me pleasure, I have fulfilled living intentionally. To love and be loved is most important...and that I have and do daily.
What Ashleigh said!! ♥️♥️♥️
I am a driven person who goes to bed at night and takes inventory on my productivity for the day. It's HARD for me to remember this stuff! LOL
I just wanted to say that I could relate when you wrote that you worked like you were running out of time. I came pretty close to death after an accidental sliced ovary during a routine IVF surgery resulted in massive internal bleeding. I didn’t know what I was experiencing at the time, just that I had come home from the clinic and was in increasingly acute pain, so I casually took an Uber to the nearest ER in park slope only to learn quite quickly that a great deal of my blood was free floating outside of my veins.
As I continued to lose blood- nearly half- my brain sent out a ‘you are dying- this is not a drill’ signal like my own internal fire alarm. And as I was wheeled in to emergency surgery, my mind filled with all the things I wanted to do and places I wanted to go. I didn’t want to die.
Two days after surgery I limped back to work- though my body was not ready and my stitches were too raw for real clothes. And I didn’t have to- my job is pretty flexible and it was clearly too soon- but I wanted to be alive and the only way to be alive was to scrape and claw my way to life. And then it’s a bit like momentum- you’ve just propelled yourself into life, and it’s hard to stop running.
Anyway, just wanted to say that you don’t have to feel bad for pushing yourself or not pushing yourself. You are where you are, and if you’re pushing yourself like crazy, it’s likely because you have to. There’s no comparing where you are now to where other people are. You may wish you were able to lead a ‘normal’ life, but I think now, that there’s no such thing.
Thank you for this wisdom ♥️♥️♥️
Thank you for the lines from Gilbert. I’m pondering how most trees can only leaf gigantically after a period of winter loss. Also how my oldest child used to say the trees were “greening up.” Looking forward to April’s writing.
Oh, Julie! "Greening up" is such a good turn of phrase—I'm gonna borrow if that's ok!
Of course!
I love this phrase too. Suleika’s comment to me last week had me thinking about this all week- blossoming after loss- letting space just be empty for a bit- I wrote about it this week if either of you wants to check it out
Ooh Mary, I just read your beautiful blooming reflection. Anyone who mentions Frog and Toad, Suleika, and a link aboutThich Nhat Hahn in the same post is someone I want to know. Just subscribed.
So so glad to meet you. And thanks for joining us in that sacred space. If you haven’t listened to that episode of On Being with Thich Nhat Hahn, it’s a worthy listen. I wish I could have studied with him.
I just learned yesterday, that one of my favorite writing teachers who incorporates meditation into her writing practice studied with him, and it made so much more sense to me. Why I was enjoying her practice so much. She’s offering a free course this weds and Thursday at three different times if that interests you
https://nadiacolburn.com
Wow. At about to be 73, in the company of various uncertainties, what cities and forests await? What have my planted seeds laid in store, waiting to now burst forth? What a thing to contemplate... What an opportunity to put something in motion... intentional, purposeful, yet meandering and playful???
I agree Sandra. My brain has actively been dumping things that really don't matter much, and life has been proven to be more exciting observing what my seeds sown over a lifetime produce. The clutter of meaningless stuff -- the wonder of the footsteps I've laid......
♥️♥️♥️
I, too, had cancer--first in my 30s when pregnant, then it came back 15 years later. I feel like I have been on borrowed time and totally understand the desire for success. I have a wonderful husband and daughter. I was a teacher. I volunteer on the South Side of Chicago. I started my own Substack because writing was a dream of mine. I travel when I can. Yet, there is still that gnawing ache that it hasn't been enough, a feeling that all of the health issues I have faced are supposed to mean something more. No epiphanies here. Just an unexplainable longing and a question: Has my life mattered?
Ooph, yes. This resonates so much ♥️
Me too!
Oh yes, your life matters. Your daughter is here because you matter. Sometimes the search for extravagant meaning can cloud the everyday miracles that explain our existence. You’re still here, and that matters.
I read this and couldn’t help but hear the echoes of stories from people not who discovered their “slowness” was from chronic illness, but from neurodiversity. In my case, a mid-30s woman ultimately diagnosed with Autism and a dissociative disorder, I had to reach an infuriating (and eventually freeing) conclusion: I am slow, I move slowly through this world.
Whatever frenetic pace of a pretend self I had shelled inside had finally broken down, irreparable from years of performative self-abuse. Moving slowly in a world that prized the efficient initially felt like a death sentence
(Pressed “send” accidentally, ironically because I was trying to type too quickly.)
Who wants a slow editor? A slow running partner? A slow eater? A slow reader? A slow thinker?
It took a long time to surrender to the beingness of slow. Not just a few days a week but every day. I have my moments where I feel on top of the world and want to race everybody around me just to show I can do it! But what would that sit in my lap at the end of the day? Not much for me, anyways.
I have had to learn to bring my whole, slow self to the table in things I love. In how I edit, how I read (There’s no book club for slow readers!), how I mother and nurture. It’s terribly exposing but I know there is something that steeps better in my life when I take my cues from my edges.
Here’s to slow and steady enjoying the “race.”
Really appreciate you sharing this ♥️
P.S. I second Elizabeth B’s comment. “The beingness of slow” would make for an amazing book or essay title!
Grateful for this perspective, Amanda. Slow and steady for the win! ❤️❤️
I love the "beingness of slow," Amanda!