When I enter and exit the house repeatedly, like when gardening or bringing in groceries, Leo (the dog) barks EVERY time. Every is an exaggeration, 90% of the time.
And every time I say “Still me, always me”.
Today Shannon called. It is obviously difficult for everyone to make the first contact after getting “the cancer diagnosis information”. I can hear it in voices and see it in typed words. But I am still me, always me. As we talked, I felt her relaxation and realization. It’s happened with each of you. Shock. Then silence. Then a path to acceptance that may be a long project of self inquiry.
The most difficult part of cancer is telling people! At first, I feel like I am putting a burden on their hearts, that I am causing pain. Certainly “I” am not doing it. It’s hard though. With a magic wand, I would convey the information all at once so that there was a quick, complete picture. People would see the whole thing all at once.
With a magic wand, I would convey the information all at once so that there was a complete picture.
They would get that:
*I am okay and accepting my journey. I am actually living a graced and wonderful life, right now, always.
*The interplay with their own path is obvious, and that each has her/his own stuff to do around this. You get to embrace growth here too. It’s not just me.
*If we never speak again, that it is totally cool… but I don’t want to exit without reminding you that I love you and have immense gratitude for the moments we have shared
*The biggest gift anyone can give me (because everyone asks) is positive thought or prayer, and focus on one’s own connection to Eternality. You heal me by healing you. Love it.
Magic words. Swish of the wand. All of it sinks in in one clear, easy moment.
micheleplumbstowell.org 