I’m a bit obsessed with energy lately. It’s not something I mulled over before. I’ve always simply had lots of it. But chemotherapy has changed all that.
After a Red Devil strike, the main objective is to get my body functioning normally, as quickly as possible. I’ve had a few hiccups with this, but it remains my primary goal each time. I’m not quite sure where my life force sits, but I imagine it to be a little flame in the centre of my chest. My instinct tells me to keep that flickering going at all costs. So how do I make sure it stays a healthy orange glow?
Meditation is one way of keeping the light on. As the night fades and Archie stretches out next to me, I hear the rhythm of the earliest birds, their song gentle enough to blend into the inky silence. I focus on my breathing and drift into reflection, allowing whatever needs to come into my consciousness to do so. Does this always work? No. But if it doesn’t, I simply keep my attention on my breath. There’s always a next time. Archie snuggles in when I do this, but he doesn’t disturb me. Meditation comes naturally to him.
In my quest for the elixir of life, I am exploring many avenues. I eat fresh, organic foods, take regular beach walks and avoid stress wherever possible. “Don’t sweat the small stuff,” has taken on a whole new meaning. Alcohol has also been relegated to special occasions. That was an easy one. Champagne and chemo are not good bedfellows, trust me. Music, dancing and friends energise too. Laughter and lightness, long overdue conversations with loved ones and alone time in my garden…all contribute to keeping the flame alive. And when I need some extra help? Liesl, a transformational coach, is an email away. (firstname.lastname@example.org) There have been many occasions when I’ve needed an extra push over the goalpost. The phenomenal Liesl has never disappointed. Her work is all about energy, that elusive force of nature and if you’re tempted to drop her a line, do!
Archie is my daily role model in this holy grail. I watch him go from utter relaxation to a bundle of energy in the flick of a tail. One minute he can be stretching in the sun and the next he is monitoring a mole’s progress underground, waiting for the moment to pounce. It’s at that moment that Xena disappears. The gentle dog is not too sure about this hunting instinct which courses through her best friend’s being.
Always thinking of you Gail and sending all my love xxx
Thank you! x
As a stage 4 lymphoma survivor I have danced with that devil many times, sending you strength and love. Now in my 3rd year of remission, I live live to the fullest – not wanting to waste this second chance I have been given.
Thank you Craig! You are an inspiration 🙂