I have to laugh at the combination of words around my breasts and actually this whole situation because they are words I never thought I’d be combining let alone exclaiming in a celebratory manner.
Last night, my cousins and I were at Lovin’ Cup and the band “sophistafunk” was playing. It was super enjoyable. I appreciated them lyrically and their keyboardist was unreal. I get inspired when I see people tapping into the transformative power of music, when it bleeds over into areas of social justice and equality, dismantling the differential stratification our dysfunctional system depends on…. Ahem.
What was even more enjoyable was when the lead singer/rapper said “put your hands in the air” and I squealed to my cousins “I CAN DO THAT!!”…. Because 3 weeks ago I could not. I could not even get out of bed without assistance. It’s amazing to me how quickly my body is recovering from major surgery. There’s something to be said for all my dietary changes and supplementation. All of my doctors are super impressed and tell me every appointment “You’re a fast little healer”, to which I reply, “damn straight I am”
So lately I’ve been getting lost in the joy of the little things in life. Spending hours in the grass searching for four leaf clovers, going for walks and feeling the sun on my face, drinking nourishing juices and visualizing them getting to work and oxygenating my cells (visualization has become quite meditative for me). And of course, it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t mention that I’m also playing a butt load of Spyro the dragon (a highly addictive PlayStation game that when played elicits a euphoric response in all the lobes of the brain. Probably the ear lobes too)
I feel gratitude. I think about how I used to live my life before canSer (Kris Carr suggests spelling it wrong every opportunity you get to take back your power and I like that a lot) and compare it to how I’m living now. Facing my own mortality has made me more willing to let go of my mistakes of the past and reclaim my truth, the fundamental part of me who has been there all along, but has hidden under fear or shame or whatever other bullshit my superego loved to hold onto and torment me with. I feel that this experience has brought about a death in me. That careless “it will never happen to me”way of living is gone. In some ways I’m grieving this loss. In other ways I’m super ready to start tackling the mother fucking shit out of this life. And in that way, I feel blessed. I’ll write more about this later, but I’m off to hyperbaric oxygen therapy…