Dear Traveler,

“The nicest people get cancer” said my friend the other day. Like me she’s a nurse and a keen observer of things, so it really set me thinking.

What’s up with that?

We’re all familiar with the “type A personality”; the person who is constantly driven, the over-achiever who often becomes a cardiac patient once their relentless pace wreaks enough havoc on the heart and cardiovascular system.  Similarly, one fairly recent series of studies has arrived at the theory of a “type C personality”, a profile that fits such a large percentage of cancer patients (especially in the female population) it can’t be ignored. Being “nice” is one of the main attributes, along with being self-sacrificing, experiencing more than the usual ration of trauma and grief in life, a sense of overwhelming obligation, chronic (hidden) inner conflict, and above all, a sense of helplessness regarding the ability to change one’s situation.

Just to be clear, no one is saying that this particular stellium of characteristics is going to lead to having cancer, and no one is saying that working to change them will cure cancer. What’s being postulated is this:

We all carry cancer cells in our bodies, but only some of us will get cancer.*  Genetics aside, the rest have an immune system healthy enough to quell the activities of wayward cells before they can aggregate into a tumour.  Those whose physical "terrain" supports the replication of cancer cells, and whose immune systems are compromised, may end up with tumours. Certain physical and emotional conditions work together to create this "cancer-hospitable" terrain.

What makes for a healthy immune system, then? The newly emerging field of psychoneuroimmunology is fascinating, and volumes have been written which address the question of "terrain". So, where does being “nice” fit in?

“Niceness” is a learned behaviour. No one is born nice. We may be born with the capacity for forgiveness, and compassion, and other inner qualities, which, if nurtured, will blossom and become part of our emerging personality. “Niceness”, on the other hand, is a veneer, and one that’s toxic to the environment of our personal ecology. It sits on the surface like a hard shell, glossing over our actions, feelings, and expressions, keeping the truth below the surface where it backs up and begins to ferment. Dishonesty predicated on “niceness”, even if kindly intended (and no matter how seemingly inconsequential), blocks the flow of life force through our bodies. If we keep this up, after a while the truth of what we feel becomes tainted and cloudy, and we’re no longer sure of our feelings. In time our “niceness” is all we have left to rely on; we’ve learned it well. But the price we pay is high: we feel an emptiness; we have ceased to be real. The fire and courage have gone out of our lives. And maybe out of our immune systems.

To take that one step further, even a person with evil intent can be nice. A pedophile can be “nice”. So is “niceness” what we really need to be reaching for if what we want is to add goodness to this world?

What I’m learning is this: we’d be better off if we forget about being nice.  What the world needs is for us to be loving. Love can be expressed in myriad ways, and is the greatest medicine we have for all our ills. Compassion is real – let’s be compassionate. Gentleness is a blessing – let’s be gentle. All these qualities are real; they are not a “veneer”. They are true expressions of the goodness that is latent within us, that is inherent in our humanity and our divinity. The expression of true compassion, of true kindness, is active and fiery, not meek and self-sacrificing (ask anyone who ever met Mother Theresa.) It carries great power and can create real change, and alleviate suffering. The superficial veneer of socially-approved “niceness” is a cinder that burns up in its light.

If we begin to be truly loving, in the end we won’t have to worry about being “nice.” Loving-kindness is full of grace, and is never destructive but always healing. Love doesn’t speak with arrogance, or selfishness, or mal-intent. I guess you could say love is the nicest thing there is.

So why fake it?

With love,
rosemary

* from “Anti-Cancer: A New Way of Life” by David Servan-Schreiber, M.D., Ph.D.

Dear Traveler,
This made me think of you, so here I am to share it.

At the end of yesterday morning’s meditation and prayer time, the image of a nearby demolition site floated into my awareness. A large, historical building was torn down, and during the ensuing five-year tussle over who should be allowed to rebuild there (and how high), nature has reclaimed the space. A half-acre concrete slab, bordered by asphalt and littered with gravel and broken bricks, now sprouts a wildly abstract carpet of audacious weeds and hopeful saplings. The bright spirits of the neighborhood arts community interweave the surrounding chain link fence with ephemeral art and benevolent signage in an ever-changing public canvas. New life reigns (and rains) in the fought-over but otherwise neglected territory.

Everything wants to return to nature.  

What is man-made is mostly unsustainable. A building, an amusement park – even a farm; none of these can replenish themselves. Nature is in a constant, reliable, and never-ending state of renewal. As in the example of the abandoned building site above, nature will subtly but powerfully heal a wound wherever it finds one. Our bodies, if not our spirits, are part of and governed by nature. If most of our diseases are man-made, should we not also be able to heal if we “get out of the way” and let nature address our wounds?

How do we do this? Granted, some illnesses have an acute onset or are life-threatening, and need immediate addressing by whatever means will be life-saving. But afterwards, in the healing time, we can still turn to nature, and with respect and humility, learn to work with its compassionate intelligence.  

Think of a hatching chick, persevering for hours or days to peck its way out of its shell, gaining strength for the life ahead. The hen never interferes with this process, living in a state of acceptance that all is as it should be. Think of those remarkable wind-bent pines growing along the timber line, sometimes on sheer cliff faces. They send out their roots, gripping tenaciously wherever the smallest pocket of soil is found. And they survive, bringing such poignant beauty to the landscape. Surely our own well-being is worth the same effort. Here’s the kicker: sometimes the effort lies in doing nothing except what comes naturally (or would if we’d let it).

What seems difficult to our thinking minds is simple when we’re flowing with nature’s way. I’d never say easy, just simple. For example, the depth of relaxation that promotes real healing is one of the most difficult things for 21st century humans to achieve. It requires no particular action, yet at the same time it’s not about sipping margaritas on the beach (which is more like pressing the “pause” button for a brief moment in an otherwise stressful life; nothing really changes.) What I’m learning is that true relaxation is a state of intense aliveness, vibrant, fully engaged, and joyful; it involves not doing all the things that prevent the free flow of life from coursing through our bodies. Not thinking too much, just be-ing more. Not suppressing creativity, desires, emotions, but either shifting them or giving them expression, as appropriate. Think of grazing deer… completely relaxed and at one with their natural surroundings (and their own inner natures), yet poised and alert – in other words, fully alive.

There will always be casualties of illness and injury, for various reasons. Sometimes despite our best efforts things just can’t change quickly enough, and we all know the state of the planet makes it virtually impossible for anyone, anywhere, to be 100% healthy. That said, there is nothing preventing every single one of us from walking a grace-filled healing journey; learning, accepting, awakening.  That’s my wish for us all.

Be like the deer.

With love,  rosemary

  Dear Traveler,
It’s been a while…I hope you’re well.

Recently I've heard about more than one person who is feeling very "alone" in their illness, prompting me to share this story.

While soaking in the tub not long ago, the memory of my first shower after “the big surgery” came flooding back to me (so to speak.) On reflection, I’m amazed to realize how very weak I was, and that I risked getting into the shower by myself at all. But Oxycodone maketh giddy the prudent mind, and I had been looking forward to a real soak for days. Drugged and dizzy, a-showering I did go. At first it felt wonderful – Independence! Hot water everywhere!  Ahh… everything was going to be OK! 

A few moments later, every bit of the strength I’d mustered suddenly spiraled down the drain. I checked; no reserves. I stood grasping the wall, exhausted and shaking. Afraid of falling head-first on the hard porcelain and tile, I didn’t try to move, nor did I have the lung power to call out for help. OK, I thought to myself; you have to solve this problem on your own, right here and now, before you fall. “Treat yourself as you would one of your patients”, I heard, from somewhere inside. OK, what would I do? (What would you do?)

In retrospect I acted on intuition, and the images make me laugh now. I moved my right hand slowly toward my left arm, making sure not to throw myself off balance. I patted my left arm kindly, and whispered “It’s alright, honey. I know you’re really tired, and this is scary, but you’re going to be OK. Here’s what we’re going to do: we’re going to rinse away all the soap, then we’re going to turn off the water and step out of the tub. We’ll dry off, and you can go lay down on your nice, comfortable bed. You’ll be fine – I’m right here, holding on to you.” I felt a tiny surge of strength, my balance stabilized. “Honey” cried a few anxious tears, but she hung on and we made it out of the shower safely.

Please try this approach some time if you’re struggling or in danger, and there’s no help at hand. Nuts, you say? Well, sometimes we have to be a little bit desperate to open ourselves up to solutions. I don’t know who or what whispered in my ear, and I don’t need to know. I’m grateful. The suggestion worked beautifully, and after some time, I believe I’m beginning to understand why.

When we’re sick or injured, even when we’re really sick or badly injured, a large part of us is still OK. We feel  terrible; we’re in pain, we’re scared, we’re going to throw up… maybe all of the above. But here’s the thing: if we’re conscious, our heart is still beating. Our lungs are still expanding and contracting, exchanging gases, breathing. In all likelihood our bones are holding together and our muscles and nerves are enabling them to move. Our minds can still think, our hearts feel. With all of that happening, we have a lot going for us and can say to ourselves “Well now; part of me is sick (or emotionally wounded, or physically injured), but another part is well, and from that vantage point I can help the sick/damaged part.” If, dear Traveler, you’re a parent or have ever helped another in need when you yourself were not at your best, you’ve already practiced this. All that remains is to apply it to your self.

This becomes a very empowering skill when we use it consciously. For one thing, it means we’re never alone, never helpless, because we can always depend on ourselves. To have the love and support of friends and family in times of struggle is an immeasurable gift; yet even without it, gifts abound. To dig deep into the well of our own resources when the need is greatest makes us wealthy… we find riches there we might never have found otherwise. If you’re seriously ill and are being cared for by dear friends and family members, it’s a blessing. If you have a committed life partner who selflessly participates in your efforts to save your life as if his/her life also depended on it, you’re (both) doubly blessed. If you’re on your own, you still have the best helper any of us can have: yourself. Not only that, you’re three times blessed, because you will emerge from your difficulties with new courage, clearer vision, and a peaceful self-confidence you never dreamed you could possess – because you worked for and found it yourself. Now you can share your new strength with those in need, and with the whole world.

So, dear Traveler, whether you’re wondrously healthy or facing some trying health challenges, remember: you’re never alone. If you’re constantly surrounded by caring people, count your blessings, but make time occasionally to reach into your private well of resources so you don’t miss out on the treasures there. And if you’re on your own, you’re one step ahead. You’re already reaching, and growing richer by the day.

With love ~  rosemary

PS – we all need some help with a few basic things when we’re ill… we need groceries delivered, and laundry done, and the bills paid. If you’re having trouble with the basics, there are people and organizations that can help. If you don’t know how to find them, please email me and I’ll try and point you in the right direction.