The past few days have prompted an unexpectedly profound reflection in me on what it is to want to live. Not bravado or courage, just stoicism and a strong attachment to life. This was prompted by an ancestral vision during a somewhat stressful wisdom tooth extraction, a trip to see the musical Hades Town and seeing the fabulous Mickey 17. I’m going to recommend the last two but not the first.
Sometimes when I’m listening to the universe calling during difficult periods there are themes that repeat. Insistent and persistent. So loud you can’t ignore them. I remember this from last time I was ill with cancer. My senses are alert to signals and meaning in everything. That doesn’t mean I’m not making them up to make meaning of course but they come all the same. Some might say they are sent. Personally I think it’s a fine difference. I’m conscious of moments in my life when I am really listening and times when I am not. Times when I don’t want to hear. Extremes of any kind tend to tune you into what matters. The great revelation of being forced to stare down death is that we begin to strip away the noise and connect to the things that matter and live in all the ways we know we should. I feel like the universe is giving me one massive bitch slap right now. I imagine a Kenny Everett style hand of God coming down from the sky (you have to be over 45 and British to get this reference). And after I get knocked over by the giant hand from the sky a booming posh male voice comes from somewhere up above saying ‘I told you so.’ I stand up looking dazed and confused into the mists as the tweety birds clear and, smiling inanely, I say ‘OK yes I’ll stop drinking and being a twat’. And then I forget all my promises and just go back to being a twat.
It’s not easy being human is it? I can workout, stop drinking, eat vegetables, drink loads of water and avoid sugar and ultra processed foods for a while. But will it save me? Probably not. Still we cling on to what we can. I wanna be more like Joan eating bad salty corn snacks in the hospital in the same breath as I say I’m on my way out. Next time I’m taking a tin of pink G&T in with me.
The theme of this week’s cultural inspiration was this. We live, we love, we get it all wrong and still we value our lives and our uniqueness so much that we’d do anything to hang on to life. And we are so scared. Scared to death of dying. But it’s just part of life and no stranger than the idea of being born. We know nothingness because we came from nothing and we’re all heading to the same destination. Oblivion doesn’t scare me any more. Just the idea that I might continue to waste what I have and not spend every minute appreciating it.
If you haven’t seen Mickey 17 go see it. It’s human and beautiful and funny and captures the farce of the human condition so brilliantly. We know we are expendable but we fear each little slice of death, accepting such minimum standards in our daily lives as if it is our lot. Hades Town had much the same message. We know this story, we know this tune but we’ll sing it and tell it again and again and again even though we know the story ends. This is the human condition.
I’m exhausted and sweary after nearly a week of pain after the wisdom tooth extraction. It’s a pain but it will pass. I was told to get it done as one can’t afford to get infections once treatment starts for real as it’s risky. Fine. It needed doing. But I was so nervous and it was fairly traumatic. Somewhere around ‘just a bit more wiggling and then some stitching and oh we might have to drill into your bone if that’s ok…’. I went to the special place in my head at that point and surrendered to my subconscious, imagining myself holding the hand of an elderly Chinese woman who looked me straight in the eye and told me to ignore the pain and focus on the mountain in the distance. I knew she was an ancestor. She reminded me I had got through the pain of childbirth in a cave without pain relief and that I could get through this. It’s not the first time I’ve met her on my astral plain. Last time I had cancer I saw a famous energy healer. It was an extraordinary experience in which I had an out of body journey flying low and fast across the universe ending up somewhere that looked like the Mongolian steppe, I embodied a gender neutral warrior and was sat on a horse looking out over a flat topped mountain. My feeling as I looked over the mountain contemplating what was ahead was completely neutral, determined, resigned. As if I was preparing to meet my fate. The experience has stayed with me like a vivid memory of a life I have lived. This vision returned as I lay in the dentist’s chair last week, hallucinating a previous life and gripping tight on to my imaginary female ancestor’s hand. Now don’t think I can’t imagine just how nuts this sounds but I have made a pact with myself not to self-censor if I am to share this journey. Including tripping in the dentist’s chair! Weird shit happens. The ancestors got me through and the tooth literally slid out without any trouble once I stopped holding on to it. I have got myself into such an extreme state of neutral mind I truly believe my cancer will shrink. If I am not correct it doesn’t really matter to anyone but me. But I really believe it because I have to and because it puts me in a positive and cheerful state. Who is this freaking cheerful person with five metastatic tumours? Me. Even shutting down my hormones hasn’t dampened my spirits. I can get through worse. I’ve been through worse. I whinge less than before I had cancer because most normal things seem trivial. Life’s alright. I’m actually enjoying myself. It’s odd I know.
The week was characterised by friendships forged in iron. Old, loyal friends visiting from far flung places. They raised me up and they made me feel like I could do anything. Just by being by my side. Nothing in particular needed to be said. Like my ancient ancestors, sometimes you just need someone to be there, seeing you as you are and holding your hand when the pain gets overwhelming. With this you really can get through anything. Thank you.
I stumbled across a Maya Angelou quote today which seemed fitting.
‘Every storm runs out of rain.’
The storm may not be done with me yet but I’m done with the rain. ☔️ Take your rain somewhere else. I’m enjoying the sun. ☀️
Breathe 
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