There's something about the days between fall and summer that I love. It's a chaotic return to schedule; a letting go of the free fall and unrestrained activity of summer. Fall is to be a preparatory course in the "acceptance of the guarantee of winter" for Canadians. A brillant display by nature, life drained of chlorophyll.
The spectrum of nutrient deprived branches and leaves. Brilliant crimson, red, orange and yellows. The beauty of it all, the beauty of the dying of the leaves. What is truly the soul of the leaf is more beautiful and magnificent than one could imagine. The colours, the character and the individuality is stunning. Each leaf a work of art.
It's a holding pattern as they fall and we rake them away.... We all wait and see. Will it be a harsh winter? Will we ease gently into beautiful quiet snowy days where the sun makes the ground seem as if it sparkles and children's laughter travels for what seems like days on the barren ground? Will we suffer?
I remember two years ago, this time of year. Right before my diagnosis. The smell of the leaves rotting brings it back to me, the crisp air, the hue of the light at sunset. Fall used to be my favourite. I dread it now. I struggle through it, PTSD from cancer diagnosis is real. The rapidity of my diagnosis, treatment, amputation, radiation and hormonal blocking was so swift and effective I barely had time to absorb it. I remember crunching the leaves on my way to a cancer diagnosis. I remember being unable to see the beauty, to see the day, to even focus on anything but my own suffering.
Now years later I reflect on my anxiety as I pass a patch of rotting flowers and it all comes flooding back.
Recently we had a wicked storm. Thunder and lightning. Wind and rain. The kind of storm that whips summer easily into fall. I laid in bed....looking out a sliver of my bedroom curtain, wishing somehow it would just take me away. These days are hard. So many people I know have been diagnosed with cancer. So many people are suffering. Almost every family I know has been touched by cancer.
I don't feel special, or lucky, or blessed...I feel obligated. I have survived so far. I want to help them all. I know I can't be all things to all people suffering that I know. It's a trigger for me and I need to be careful.... but I want to be of help to those I can practically help.
Yesterday I visited a loved one at the Juravinski Cancer Centre. I was a patient there almost a year ago on the floor below for more than one stay. I've spent hours, days actually at this place. I felt strangely comfortable and at ease discussing cancer and chemo and the like. I've had cancer. I live with that everyday. It was kind of "my thing". I haven't discussed much more than that in detail for the past two years.
Today, I awoke to a perfect fall day. The sky is an azure blue, the kind of blue that only nature can provide with abundance. I'm sure it's a highly used Pantone...
Anyway, I woke up and I am grateful. I am grateful for my struggles, for the cancer that taught me to see and recognize both the fragility and the strength in life.
Often we need to be like the tree in the fall and suck all our resources right back down to our core so we can continue on in what surely promises to be unforgiving circumstances. We are brilliant when we accept life, and death as simple facts.
It's the in between that's so messy. Nature is much smarter than we are. The trees just know when to back down, when to store up, when to send out roots instead of branches. We humans aren't as advanced. Sometimes we need to retreat, to cook heartily, to comfort and to soothe.
Sometimes we need to not barge ahead, we need to be still and accept the falling leaves, the end of things we loved, and the beginning of a new season. With every new season comes the promise of hope, the promise of moments of quiet, moments of dispair and moments of clarity. Fall is the gateway to these things in nature. I see it as such for me.
My "cancerversary" date is rapidly approaching and I feel the anxiety building as I unpack my warmer clothes and smell the whisper of winter in the breeze.
Last year I fell apart and remained that way for the better part of a year. This year.....I'm going to unpack my feelings as I would my hoodies. One at a time, realizing that they're just what I make them.
This year... I will; instead of fearing the future, embrace the winter ahead. I will give thanks for my life, everyday. I will treat my body more nicely and appreciate all she has done to keep my spirit alive. I will tread lightly with those who are in the winter of their lives, I will embrace those who are helpless and watching. I will do what I can to illustrate what life after cancer is like.
I do live everyday with ANTs (Automatic Negative Thoughts) about recurrence; however, I sail over them as best I can by focusing on what I have now.
Last year I stepped into fall afraid. Afraid of what I'd been through haunting me. Afraid of it returning. Afraid of suffering.
Today I step out into fall aware. Aware of what I've been through. Accepting the reality of the possibility of a recurrence but most importantly today I step out into TODAY.
There won't be another.
The sky is so perfectly blue, the trees are themselves, void of a compound that kept them thriving. They aren't dying. They are transitioning. They are becoming stronger and even more themselves for the next cycle. The next lifetime.
Life and death....it's just a part of a wheel that forever turns over and over. Reminding us that nothing is permanent.
Like a crimson leaf floating through sky blue. All we can do sometimes is watch. Appreciate the moment and be grateful for all we have, all we've been and accept what's to come. Hopefully we can do this with the nobility and humble steadiness of a giant maple.
Sometimes all we can do is focus on each step, listen for the crunching of leaves beneath our feet, smell the sweet composting mustiness of fall and the whitest marshmallow clouds zip by.
In each step we participate in the great adventure that is life. It can't be summer all the time, but that doesn't mean we have to suffer.
We can embrace each phase of life, each day, each thought as something temporary and lovely.
We're here for a good time.
Not a long time.
Get out there....before you need a parka.
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