It Does Get Better (And Better)

The five retreat days we just took part in definitely belong in the top tier of my life experiences as far as inspiration, hope, sweat, support, love, and wonderfulness go.

Michael and I spent about fifteen minutes of the five days outside.  Literally.  We ate, slept, and practiced qigong in one building, and our time was very filled up from 7 a.m. until after 9 p.m.  But even though we were busy inside, I could hear the frogs croaking outside our windows.  By their sound, I would guess that there must have been at least 1,495,268 of them out there.

I am not exaggerating when I say this experience was life-changing (but I think that I was exaggerating a little when I mentioned the frog count).  The last two months, since the MCL diagnosis and since Dad died, have sort of been like walking around outside at night while wearing sunglasses.  Even when my heart was open and I felt powerful depths of peace and love, The Shadow was usually lurking.  Once we started the retreat, I don't know where that shadow went, but it seems to be gone.  Maybe it never existed except in my imagination.  I don't go to impending gloom and grief lately because I see a bigger picture.  The sunglasses are removed, the sun is shining.  Right now, everything is alive.

No matter what happens - if Michael does or doesn't do chemo - he (we) are empowered to do much healing on all levels.

We are not our diagnoses.

(And the pain I get from the scoliosis in my back may have left with The Shadow.  After the second day of the retreat, I quit feeling it, even though I was doing the very things that usually cause it to yell louder than a mad, little kid.)

The two photos I took in California - taken with my cell phone and doctored with technology:

Were the frogs hiding in these beautiful flowers?

Oh, yeah.  Oranges come from trees, not from grocery stores.