The next few weeks went by in a blur. I fully immersed myself into meditation. Every morning began the same. I was meditating before I got out of bed, and the Barenaked Ladies had played their final encore. Each meditation was capped off with grounding in the backyard.
My mind was suddenly quiet at times. It was profound. I had never experienced that in my life. I was also getting up earlier, with intention. I was not a morning person, in fact when I talk about this with clients, I always tell the same story.
As a teenager, my Mom always insisted I shower in the morning. High school started at 8:20am, so that meant 6:30am wake-ups. My body was simply not having it. I was groggy, I was freezing. The last thing I wanted to do was shower.
I would turn on the water, and under the ruse of needing to wait for it to heat up, take a towel, curl up on the bathmat and cover myself up. This almost always led to me falling back to sleep.
My mom would eventually coming knocking, I would cup my hands over my mouth to make it sound like I was in the shower, and then rush to get washed as fast as possible. She eventually caught on and I was busted.
So now, as an adult, I was actually setting my alarm for 6:15am, and looking forward to getting up each day. Just 6 months ago, I was struggling to get out of bed by 7:30am. Surely I was going mad.
I was walking more, noticing things in nature. I rescued a few bumblebees, moths, and caterpillars from being squished. Carefully carrying them to safety, like I would have as a child. My heart was lighter, and mind didn’t feel so overwhelming. I was finding joy in the little things, literally.
Life seemed slower. I was carving out time for myself. I had been recommended to a little yoga studio that also offered breath work and meditation classes. It had been years, and years since I had attended yoga, and I can tell you it was quite humbling to try classes again. My flexibility, or lack of it, made me feel well beyond my years. I also discovered that breath work, while fulfilling, is really quite hard. Still working on enjoying the process of learning it.
My love of crystals was also growing. I was accumulating quite the collection, of mostly palm stones. I wanted to have one to place on each of the 7 chakras during meditation. I had tried meditating without them, but I quite enjoyed the sensation of them, the weight of them somehow felt comforting.
The biggest change I had noticed was my mindset. I wasn’t worried about my potential diagnosis, not really. That, in itself, was a testament to a change in my life. I had always been a worrier, my anxiety and overthinking only increasing with age. I often joked that I don’t seem like an anxious person, because I come across as an exhausted pigeon, and yet underneath that laidback facade, my feathers are almost always ruffled.
My closest guy friend, M, had shown up on my doorstep the day I told him about my biopsy findings. I had hardly registered who was at my door before I was enveloped by his bear hug. I was highly emotional, and yet trying to keep that under control.
Weeks later, when he called me to check in, it was very different.
“Hey buddy, just wanted to call and see how you are doing? Anymore news?”
“This is going to sound strange, but I am good. I have started meditating, and went to reiki, and my mind is in a much different place than when you saw me. I’m not worried, or making myself sick analyzing the shit out of this. I’m also not emotionally shut off either, because I know what that feels like, and this isn’t it. I should know more next month when I see the oncologist.”
I’m still struggling when I hear that word.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve found something that is helping you during this time.”
Me too, buddy, me too. I had found solace in the space between consciousness and unconsciousness. Peace in the swirls and orbs of colours, and images behind my eyes. The hum of energy moving up my limbs.
I felt like my old, desktop computer of a brain was starting to change. It had been long overdue for an upgrade. But like any upgrade, I hoped I wouldn’t regret it. With any change in life, sometimes we have to have faith, even if it might be met with failure. I was taking the leap.
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