Showing posts with label belief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label belief. Show all posts

August 18, 2020

Speak it into reality

Life is too short to forget about goals and the future, right? In these days of the coronapocalypse, it is a little difficult to plan for the future. Do I want to spend a week in the mountains locked away in a cabin in September?

Yes.

Do I want to take an Alaskan cruise in January? 

Yes.

Do I want to go back to Italy next March?

Of course I do. 

But the thing is, the coronapocalypse has ruined any way to plan for the future. When will this pandemic end?

 

So I can't really make plans for after the pandemic, because when will that be?

But I noticed on the Twitterverse that there were some people who were speaking their future into reality. For example, someone (I don't remember who) tweeted that in 3 months they would run a 5k (or something). And then they made it happen!

So, speaking the future into reality. By the end of 2020, I will complete my second 5k. (My first one was pre-cancer, and I ran/jogged the entire thing stopping to walk, in a respectable 32-ish minutes.)

Now, considering the cane, the cancer, and the likely continuing pandemic, I have no delusions of running a 5k in that kind of time; however, even if I have to walk or crawl or use crutches, I will complete a 5k by the end of the year.

And speaking more of the future into reality: is that by the end of the year I will get my writing published. Well, guess what.

I got a second piece published: Schrodinger's Cancer Patient.

I am extremely proud of this piece. And! I am that much closer to meeting my goals!

June 11, 2020

Inspired and motivated and random thoughts

Today I feel inspired and motivated. I've been reading and resting and hanging out with my niece who came to visit. But today, I woke up ready to write a real chapter of my book. No time to waste, need to get these words out of my head and onto the screen.

I have joined a few communities recently, including the writing group which I know I have mentioned. I've made some really amazing cancer friends (online, of course *thanks quarantine*). I've been learning from my co-conspirators in this terrible club we are all members of, and I've been able to take better care of my mental health this way. Before, I thought I was too fragile and too afraid to have cancer friends. But even with all the different stages and types of cancer, we are all sharing valuable experiences, even if they are often incredibly unpleasant.

Let's talk mental health. From the beginning, I knew I would need help. If you have a cold, you take Dayquil, right? There's no shame in taking some medicine to stop the flow of boogies and constant sneezing. You might even pop some extra vitamin C to hopefully prevent the flu or some sinus infection from taking you out. I know enough about myself to know that I am predisposed to depression and anxiety, so from the beginning, I knew I would need chemical help to make it through all of this. I'm not ashamed to say that I am on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills and even birth control pills to keep my brain chemistry and hormones evened out and relatively balanced.

So when this all started, I got into regular talk therapy and also tried music therapy. Neither of these was quite the right fit for me. That doesn't mean that therapy doesn't work, but for me, I needed something different.

The wild thing that I truly never expected was my cancer writing group to be more beneficial for my overall mental health and stability than so-called real therapy would be. I've always been a reader, and I've always written when my feelings overwhelmed me; somehow I never realized the connection between the emotion and the release/acceptance of how I was feeling.

Anyway, if you just wanted a regular cancer update: still have it, chemo sucks, blah. Good times.

March 21, 2020

Fave Quote of the Book: One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Amazon link:
One of the twentieth century's enduring works, One Hundred Years of Solitude is a widely beloved and acclaimed novel known throughout the world and the ultimate achievement in a Nobel Prize-winning career.

The novel tells the story of the rise and fall of the mythical town of Macondo through the history of the Buendía family. Rich and brilliant, it is a chronicle of life, death, and the tragicomedy of humankind. In the beautiful, ridiculous, and tawdry story of the Buendía family, one sees all of humanity, just as in the history, myths, growth, and decay of Macondo, one sees all of Latin America.

Love and lust, war and revolution, riches and poverty, youth and senility, the variety of life, the endlessness of death, the search for peace and truth -- these universal themes dominate the novel. Alternately reverential and comical, One Hundred Years of Solitude weaves the political, personal, and spiritual to bring a new consciousness to storytelling. Translated into dozens of languages, this stunning work is no less than an account of the history of the human race.
I've read this book before, and only recently finished it. I don't know if I struggled with it because my brains have been poked and prodded, or because my memory sucks, or because this is just a tough book, but it takes place over the course of a literal hundred years, and many of the characters have the same names across generations. Aureliano Buendía and the 17 (literally 17) other Aurelianos over the years made this book a challenge for me this time around, but even though I found it challenging, I loved it. Gabriel García Marquez is the king of magical realism, and he gives the reader no chance to figure out which way is up before someone inexplicably floats away, someone else goes blind and nobody notices, and for no discernible reason, it rains for more than four years.

The version I read was translated by Gregory Rabassa, and he did an incredible job of keeping the lyrical prose and the poetry embedded in the plot with chapters that enveloped me in beautiful words and sentences like a warm blanket.

My favorite quote from this book, when a group of men are traveling through a dense jungle:
"The men on the expedition felt overwhelmed by their most ancient memories in that paradise of dampness and silence, going back to before original sin . . . For a week, almost without speaking, they went ahead like sleepwalkers through a universe of grief" (Garcia Marquez 11).
A universe of grief. My God, how beautiful is that?

I imagine the all-encompassing silence in this dense jungle. I remember the days after my diagnosis. After the sobbing, after the hysterics, the panic and fear. The stillness in the house. I felt like I was silently drowning in my sorrow. Shattered to pieces, scattered all over the floor. Days merged into nights, and still I cried until I was all dried up inside.

The men in this chapter are overwhelmed by ancient memories, and I was overwhelmed with ancient traumas from my youth rising to the surface unexpectedly. Old hurts mixed with the new, perhaps as a reminder we are made of all the pieces of our pasts, whether we like it or not. They say that the present is a gift, but if I may be so crude, sometimes, it is a shitty gift, the kind where you paste on a fake smile and hope nobody notices the disappointment in your eyes.

This universe of grief still overwhelms me. I mourn the many things I have lost, from the piece of bone in my skull to the ability to actively engage in large groups of people without debilitating anxiety. I grieve for all of these lost things, but none of that grief can be expressed as beautifully as GGM did. Read this book. It is beautiful and it is weird, and it is worth every page.

January 24, 2020

Books: The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly (Fin)

I am finally and unfortunately finished with this story. This is the kind of story that I wish I could start again and read it for the first time again. Immediately upon finishing this story, I realized that I would need to rearrange my top 10 favorite books, because this Book of Lost Things was firmly in the top 5. At the ending of this beautiful book, David returns to the land that is not quite like our own to find that it continues to reveal surprises.


"[A] woman appeared. She had dark hair and green eyes. In her arms she held a baby boy, barely out of the womb, who clutched at her blouse as she walked, for a lifetime was but a moment in that place, and each man dreams his own heaven. And in the darkness David closed his eyes, as all that was lost was found again" (Connolly 338-9).
Damn you, John Connolly, for writing a book that brought actual tears to my eyes! It has been quite a long time since a book has made me cry, and every time I re-read these last few sentences, I feel that tingle, as if I were cutting onions.

I don't know if everyone fears death, but I do know that there are only two innate fears that every human is born with: falling, and loud noises (the "acoustic startle reflex"). Do I fear death?

Sometimes.

Sometimes it terrifies the hell out of me. One thing that I struggle with is the unknown (as I am sure is common for many of us). Death being the ultimate unknown is terrifying. But occasionally, every once in a long while, I will find a moment of peace. Was I afraid of being born? What, fundamentally, is the difference?

Unanswerable questions.

Back to The Book of Lost Things: a death like David's seems almost unfair. No pain. No trauma. Just the final literal steps in a journey, only to be greeted by those whom he had loved and lost and found again.

If death is like this, there is nothing to fear. There is nothing but joy and love at the end of the journey. We could spend a lifetime regretting the things we may or may not have done, but regret is meaningless in the end. Regardless of what you do or do not believe in, and regardless of your faith or lack thereof, save the regrets. Instead, spread joy and love where you can.

So.

Instead of regrets, I will try to cherish my memories and my mistakes. Those mistakes have made me who I am today. In the end, I can only hope that sharing joy and love will balance out any mistakes I have made.

Anubis casting judgment in S1 Ep3 of American Gods