Since last I posted I have undergone yet another episode of synchronistic physical salvation but I have purposefully refrained from "telling this story" since these occurrences keep pointing me to continued and prolonged silent plunges deep into my soul.
I do not wish to appear glib, flippant, or breathless as I recount yet another providential pointing out of a physical peril. HOW to go about the narrative has been on my mind for months, and only now have I felt distanced enough to recount it as simply as possible. Why would this be an issue for me? Because to present it breathlessly feels too much like the sensational telling of an event that has sensitive personal meaning to me. This is juxtaposed against the sensationalization which is now the new normal of today's media, of all colors. Language itself has become corrupted in the race to capture attention in these oversaturated, overheated times, where the White Rabbit and the Queen of Hearts would find common ground with TMZ, The Real Housewives of New Jersey, and Fox news.
The other difficulty comes from the attempt to crystallize in language an ineffable experience. It is far easier to describe the medical findings that led to yet another "incidental" life-saving call than to describe how it was received in my gut, and what emotions fairly exploded along with the medical finding.
My "awakening" in November is another challenge. I am hesitant when I even type this word now, and I seek inside myself for that truth-testing that acknowledges once again the grace and amazement I experienced that evening, and how it shifted my being-in-the-moment forever after. Am I utilizing my highest integrity when I write about it here and now, or later? Can I look in the mirror and see a person free of ego gratification or exaggeration?
There is a certain degree of courage and fearlessness in looking into that mirror and seeing one's own face, says Dzogchen Ponlop. Our journey starts at that very reflection, and I am reminded that this raw reflection must not be compromised by drawing cosmetic changes onto the mirror, for once we move a centimeter, the changes stay behind on the mirror, not on our real selves.
It has been traumatic and testing for me to do just that---to look at that reflection with compassion instead of negative judgment, as had been my way. Others may see an idealized reflection in their imagination, and decide that the raw reflection must be an error on someone's part. But there is no external source that is creating that raw reflection, and getting a cleaner mirror or better lighting will not solve the problem. It is the curse and the gift that we see ourselves as we truly are in that mirror. No outside force or condition is responsible for that ugly image before us, AND no outside force is necessary for the revision of how we see ourselves...It is all at our own command that we begin our journey of working with our minds and our actions.
But the simplicity of this string of letters, "a-w-a-k-e-n-i-n-g", permits me to engage the reader in your own "take" on what I might have experienced then. It forms a dialogue with you when I type that word, awakening.....What does that evoke in you? Awe? skepticism? acknowledgement? I cannot control how you receive it, and to go into a lengthy description might be beyond my capacity to crystalize the fluid energy and emergence of such a gift.
As Ponlop reminds us when speaking of the pure essence of the dharma,
"This truth...can be likened to pure water, which we are trying to pour into various cultural containers. We can pour this water into an elegant, beautifully crafted Indian pot, a decorative silver and gold Tibetan cup, a beautiful European crystal glass, or a North American paper cup. The water will adopt the shape and reflect the colors of its container....The reflections of colors in the water are similar to the languages and social forms of each culture....When we reflect on this variety of containers, it is crucial for us to contemplate the nature of the pure essence of the water and not merely the container in which we find it. This essence is beyond all language and form."
So I type the word, I silently acknowledge that a dialogue has been tacitly engaged with you over the points and the waves, and leave it to work its alchemy.....
My dear guide Patricia helped me to revision the now ten month long retreat from interaction with the majority of the world as a fast, or what you might see as a retreat, or more pointedly, a bardo experience. What have I undergone since October? I have not been into a movie theater, have not dined in a crowded restaurant, have not gone into a mall more than once, gone on vacation, flown or taken the train, have not attended a funeral, wedding, baby naming, wake, or visited a friend in a hospital. My white cell blood count continues to decline, which is an effect of chemotherapy, and I must keep away from any possible source of infection. Along with the fear of infection, my energy continues to decrease which leaves me at home most days, often in bed.
Two weeks ago the effect of my 3 surgeries in the same area of my left chest plus the pain from the Taxol chemo cocktail left me in complete agony. My oncologist had begged me to see S-K's pain management doctor, and I kept refusing. When she heard that I was in despair and moaning from the bone and joint pain plus the 3 surgical sites, she went ahead and made the appointment for me. The next day I went obligingly, and burst into tears when this kindly doctor heard my story.
He mentioned that S-K finds it difficult to get folks into pain management; I have heard several hypotheses for this phenomenon, but mine was due to watching years of "House"....Here I was taking 2 oxycodones every 4 hours, and I was frightened that he would tell me that I had to be weaned off the only pain medication I was on. Addict, anyone??
To my dismay, he told me several facts: 1) my lung surgeon does not tell people the truth: that a thoracotomy will be intensely painful for one full year, and my 2 surgeries right by the thoracotomy site led to severe nerve damage and resulting pain. 2) Most patients such as myself are woefully undermedicated, and when cancer surgery is involved plus chemo, we need the strongest medications available. After all, I wasn't aiming to get a buzz on; I was trying not to consider despair as a way to get out of pain.
I left the office with the following regimen: oxycontin 2 times a day; oxycodone every 4 hours; Lyrica twice a day; lidocaine patches on top of the surgical sites and damaged nerves as needed. I am also still nauseated from my mismanaged pain medication, and am back on the anti-emitics of Zofran and Compazine. Oh yes... I can only eat white food now. Bizzare.
I also give myself 2 shots a day, because of the last (I hope) synchronistic medical finding.
In March I developed a sinus infection and a fever of 100.6. I had been schooled that this means an immediate trip to the local hospital, and a room away from any sick people....uh, this IS an emergency room, right?
But LO! When me and my bald head showed up at Valley Hospital, they put a surgical mask on me and rushed me into a far away side room with a closed door. The ER nurse put a blood pressure cuff on my right arm, since I cannot have blood pressure or blood drawn from my left side ever again due to the mastectomy and lost lymph nodes. I screamed, and my pressure surged to 180 over 100 (A need to put my physical being into context: I inherited my dad's very low blood pressure of 108/60, and anything in the higher 3 digits on top, or into 3 digits on the bottom is time to be concerned). Why did I scream, she asked? IT HURT, I answered, with less than intellectual specificity. After a bout of prodding, I explained that since I cannot use my left arm to carry anything beyond 5 lbs., I had been using my right arm to carry everything from groceries to boxes to pieces of furniture. And 3 days before I figured I had ripped a muscle or ligament, since I had a red, hot, ping-pong ball sized protruberance on my right arm below the elbow that hurt like hell.
She notified the ER Dr. who called for a vascular specialist, and LO! (I seem to be taken by these archaic forms of pointing out comments) I had a serious blood clot. I still wound up at Valley for 3 days of IV antibiotics for the sinus infection, but now chemo had to be postponed until I had a port surgically inserted into my right chest. That happened in early April, and that is where chemo or any blood draws are done. No Coumadin until I am off chemo; instead I inject Lovanox, a weaker form, that has dissolved the clot. The vein is dead and has left a depression on my right arm that looks like a 7" surgical incision. Yes, another life-saving incidental finding, and the "but for...." understanding.
My last chemo is July 5th, my personal Independence Day. Thoughts of my "new normal" have crept into my meditations. Little soft baby hair is sprouting everywhere, and soon I will be able to cast off the wig, which has been adorable but hot and "not natural". The breast prostheses are a difficult issue since they sit atop the 3 surgical sites and especially over the nerve damage from the thoracotomy. Every day I make the decision whether to endure pain for a balanced natural look, or to be myself and out of pain but obviously not in balance. I can put on the Lidocaine patches, but that causes pressure on the sites. So who will that new normal Lynne be? And how will I relearn to be in the moment with people other than the handful with whom I spoke and visited over this past 10 months?
This very situation came this week with our first dinner out with friends Thursday and a One Spirit Board of Directors/Leadership Circle meeting in NYC last night. What I learned is that I need to have the Witness evaluate the energy level that I "put out" into the field. Last night I was called to put forth some "fiesty energy" as one spiritual leader observed in order to make something happen that would be for the benefit of All. I wound up seriously energetically compromised today, slept 6 hours from 1 to 7 pm, and in some pain, but the cause for which I sent out from my slim energetic reservoir was worth the sacrifice. On the other hand, putting forth energy to meet the needs of another strictly to make them feel comfortable in a social setting is a noble move when the energy is readily available, which it is not at the moment.
Why have I called this entry "Exiting the Bardo", especially when we associate it with the Tibetan Book of the Dead? Because Bardo literally means "a period of time between two events", and it should be apparent that this is precisely where I am situated, leaving one bardo for another. What I will take out of this bardo includes incomparable understandings, realizations, comfort with life, death, impermanence and not knowing. I am comfortable with silence, always have been, as an only child. But now I can discern when my anxiety creeps up to prod me to "make someone else comfortable" at my own expense and in opposition to my own honest needs.
I have no need to sacrifice myself for the Other; I have held the glory of what I am without fiction or cosmetic application to enhance or obfuscate a perceived detraction. I deserve to be alive---yes, that has been a huge issue for me all my life. I can offer that which I have to offer from the clarity of my natural existence. I AM the vehicle through which I offer what I may, to we, to you and all of you. I have had superb guides in Patricia and Lorraine... I have had my two dear friends with whom we wrestle ourselves into freedom from error and mistake, Robin and Joanne... I have had a great cheerleader, my husband of 40 years, whom I have come to appreciate more than ever, Rick....I have an incredible noble and ethical daughter, Erica, and her loving and loved husband Simon....I have made subtle level contact with my grandson in utero, Adam, who will exit his bardo around Aug. 1st....I have my One Spirit cohort, especially Michael, with whom I hope to work for the rest of my life....and little soul Chloe, the best companion I could have wished for during the 10 months within this retreat.....
I will pause now and write more soon.
