Friday, January 25, 2013


Perhaps I need to simplify my new life. Recovery is on a whole other plane. Or maybe that should read planet. After eight months of hard battle to kick cancer, I'm still revving, though weary. In fight Mideast for so long, relaxing into wellness is a bit of a trick. Takes practice and a lot of belief to bring relief. A few decisions help. I no longer watch the news. I sit idle with deliberation, for this does not come easily to me. I husband my energy, a discipline strange to my natural rhythms. I nap. Ugh! I have been lured back to writing. I savor moments and experience them now, and don't save them up for later when they are cold and dim. I daydream between sessions on the stairs for exercise. I watch the snow fall, like today, when we have accumulated three inches. I watch the birds. They are about their winter business. They are teaching me to pace myself. I am becoming a believer in my recovery. I have begun to trust that I am well. To give myself permission as victory after so much hard work, dogged and faithful in this battle. I have been, indeed, have become, a Ninja. My investment in my future was not for chasing rainbows, but for grasping that healing and cure were a definite possibility, to push any chance for recurrence far into the future, should there be any at all. I have no time, patience or energy to suffer fools. When did I ever? But now, I husband all that belongs to me, like that valuable commodity, and I am learning to not forfeit my power to anyone. There is no acceptable reason to spend irreplaceable time entertaining fools. I have divorced more than one friend over politics and do not regret it. But I understand that arena is empty and false, and playing there is nearly pornographic in it's filth and slime and degradation. I cannot offer up a single good reason to save Soddom. And these are people we elect to represent us. What does that say about us? I permit myself really good desserts. Without guilt. No remorse. A touch more jiggle. More fruit. Green veggies. Wine. So much chicken and fish I cluck and have gills, even if my hair growth is minuscule, and my nails have fallen off. I am still a Ninja Warrior, honing my weapons, knowing all of life is a battle, with small oases of respite. I will be careful who is allowed on my island.

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