I’m slowly coming to realize that I actually haven’t been settling back into my routines very well. In fact, I can’t quite remember what my routines are.
I still get work done, but it feels rather haphazard and is often driven by the pressure of deadlines and urgency. Not ideal.
I started wondering what’s wrong with me that I’m not “knuckling down” and “getting it done.”
But then I thought, “Oh, right. The pandemic.” And, “Oh, right. Cancer.” Both, in their own way, dismantled any sense of normalcy.
The pandemic did it by completely obliterating routine, while cancer simply imposed its own demanding routine and schedule for pretty much a full year.
This realization doesn’t magically make everything fall into place, but at least I can acknowledge why it’s feeling like such an uphill battle to get focused and productive.
And though “scattered and unfocused” may be my current normal, I have faith it’s only temporary.
I spent a fair amount of time this morning talking on the phone with a friend who’s dealing with a serious cancer diagnosis and difficult treatment scenario. She’ll probably be facing a stem cell transplant in a few weeks and wanted to talk with me about my experience.
I was happy to answer questions, listen to her concerns, and just generally offer support. What I didn’t anticipate was how our conversation would make me realize how distanced I felt from an experience that was unbelievably intense at the time.
It brought to mind something I read just the other day (can’t remember where, unfortunately), about how — while our human brains will remember that something was painful — we can’t actually feel that pain again (which must be why women are able to give birth multiple times).
Of course, it all started coming back to me as I dredged up my memories. And I suddenly realized that this time last year I was in full-on transplant preparation mode.
To bring it into clearer focus, I went back to my July 2022 calendar and discovered that from July 11-29 I had twenty different medical appointments — from lab draws and chemo infusions; to oncologist, cardiology, pulmonary, and physical therapy appointments; culminating in my second bone marrow biopsy.
And now? It’s hard to believe all that really happened.
This whole cancer journey has had Ramesha showing up for me in ever-new ways.
For example, we never could have imagined that he would need to give me injections (like before the stem cell collection). And today he got to cut my hair!
It was starting to bug me because in normal times I would be due for a cut, but in point of fact, my hair is starting to come out due to the chemo, so it seemed like a good idea to go ahead and hack most of it off.
So, my wonderful husband graciously stepped up to the plate and helped me get it done. 😘
Perfect timing as in the divine timing of being blessed to receive my high dose chemo on this auspicious date of September 12, the day in 1948 that Swami Kriyananda met Paramhansa Yogananda for the first time and became his lifelong disciple.
With Swamiji’s inspiring example before me, I recommit to giving everything to God — body, mind, soul, cancer, chemo, loved ones, music, attachments, favorite foods, past and future — EVERYTHING.
So, we started thinking about creating a Patreon account almost a year and a half ago.
We wanted to put more focus on the making music part of our lives, as opposed to the teaching, directing, coordinating, managing side of things.
But it felt rather complicated and like we had to do all these things in just the right way, and — sure enough — it ended up falling by the wayside, even though we had most of the pieces in place.
Fast forward a year and a half and we realized it was time.
Why?
One motivator is that during Spiritual Renewal Week we were greeted by so many devotees from all over the world who expressed over and over again how much they appreciated seeing us on video. And we realized most of those videos are just from Sunday service or larger concerts; we haven’t beentaking the time to make and share our own videos, with our own choice of songs and perspective.
But the biggest motivation has come as one of the many gifts of my cancer experience.
When I started treatment I had to consider the necessity of letting some of my activities go, because I didn’t know whether I would be laid out from side effects or how much additional rest I would need, etc.
As it turns out, my energy held up and I never did have to let go of hardly anything, other than not directing larger groups of singers (but that was more of a COVID precaution, since my immune system is compromised at the moment).
But even considering the possibilities brought thoughts and ideas to mind. And then there’s the reality of the bone marrow transplant, and the fact that we’ll be completely out of commission for a couple of months.
All of which is forcing us (in the best way possible) to not just talk and wish that there were more people taking on responsibility in the music ministry, but to take action to make it happen, and on a rather strict timeline!
Which leads to the final, very important fact: that my cancer diagnosis has helped me to better embrace the concept of mortality and the fact that we really aren’t all going to be here forever. Which in its turn has prompted some real soul-searching, especially in terms of wanting to be sure we’re serving Master, Swamiji, and Ananda in the absolutely best way we can.
You see, soon after Ramesha and I got married we were having lunch in Assisi and had one of those “aha” moments. Of course, we knew perfectly well that we both sang, and that between us we played guitar and violin and flute and keyboard. But we suddenly knew we should be a duo; that we actually were a duo — The Harmony Duo. Two people from different countries, different cultures, different races, and different mother languages, who nevertheless were in harmony — musically and otherwise.
When we came to the States in 2006 (supposedly for one year — ha ha), we spent a few months giving Harmony Duo concerts at Ananda communities up and down the west coast. When Swamiji got word of it, he conveyed the message that he thought we should tour the USA. And we were going to do it, too! We gathered maps and lists of meditation groups and started planning our route.
But we ended up Ananda Village, then Ananda Los Angeles, and back to the Village — all of which has been wonderful and vitally important to our spiritual growth. And yet…we feel there are some things yet unfinished, for which we will need to be able to extricate ourselves for a few months at a time and not be responsible for all the day-to-day musical activities of one particular community.
In addition, for several years now we’ve been wanting to establish more communication and collaboration among the various music ministries throughout the world, without making much progress. But we feel that we must find a way, especially considering the vital importance of the music in helping to keep the vibration of Ananda uplifted, harmonious, and united, no matter how large it grows.
So, all of this adds up to the reason why we’ve decided to join Patreon and see where it leads us.
As my cancer journey continues, with its added detours and diversions, the “picture” (aka my understanding of what it is actually going on) keeps getting bigger.
So, today I’m unexpectedly aware that there are phases to this process. Duh! 😄
Phase 1 was about –
Leading from strength (for me, that means positivity, optimism, raising energy, healing through singing, doing my dharma, focusing on serving the music ministry)
A tremendous outpouring of loving prayer support
Some “ignorance is bliss” (it was impossible to comprehend everything all at once, definitely leaving gaps in my understanding that kept me from appreciating the full seriousness of the diagnosis, which was probably a good thing!)
Going gangbusters for two full months (no problem with chemo, sailing through radiation, way exceeding my personal goals for the Oratorio) — then HELLO Phase 2…
Phase 2 (where I’m at now) is about –
Acknowledging and embracing weaknesses
Accepting and embracing the lessons cancer is encouraging me to learn (for me, that means slowing down, making time to do the inner work, seeking guidance, feeling the feelings, resolving old griefs and pain, being vulnerable, asking for help)
Being practical in my idealism (working with what is, not what I wish it could be)
Making big decisions
Always hanging on to my strengths of positivity and optimism, etc. throughout the process, even during these ickier parts
I’ve decided to share a bit of a health update here, since it’s become clear to people that there’s something going on… 🤔
A while back I was diagnosed with the Big “C”. It’s actually been a few weeks since I last wrote a health update; partly because there wasn’t anything significantly new or different to report, but also because I’ve been quite busy in other areas.
And therein lies the paradox of my life right now…
On the one hand, I feel (and, evidently, look) mostly normal. People see me singing for Sunday service or other events and have a hard time believing that I’m not completely well. That’s okay, because I have a hard time believing it myself!
The busyness I’m experiencing is largely because we’ve committed to doing our Good Friday Oratorio this year. True, it’s with a very small choir, but still…!
Although Oratorio is a big undertaking, we felt the strong inner guidance that this wasn’t the time for the music ministry to pull back, but rather to go for it. So, I’m definitely busier than I originally expected to be right now.
On the other hand, this is a serious illness and the treatment process is getting more varied and intense.
At the end of this month I’ll start two weeks of radiation. Then in early May we’ll meet with doctors to evaluate having a bone marrow transplant, which would mean time in the hospital and a significant recovery period.
So, my challenge right now is wrapping my mind around both of these realities at once: that I feel fine and filled with energy as I continue singing and serving through the music ministry, while at the same time I’m adjusting to the possibility of being out of action for longer than I can really imagine.
For now, it’s enough to keep taking things one step at a time, even while seeking to understand what it all means in the Big Picture.
In the meantime, I’m beyond grateful for all the prayers and good wishes. 🙏😊
When I first received my diagnosis I was relieved to learn that it was a “treatable” cancer.
In retrospect, I realize I had a somewhat fuzzy take on the word, “treatable.” It was associated in my mind with “treatment” in the sense of bodywork or other health and fitness practices.
Which is not surprising, considering I was rarely sick and never had a serious illness or broken bone or severe accident in my entire life!
Of course, my “treatment” horizons have greatly expanded in the past couple of months. I’ve been introduced to MRI’s, PET scans, biopsies, hematology, oncology, drug prescriptions, and chemo injections, with radiation and more still to come.
From Sunday service at Ananda Village on August 8, 2021
We had an all community meeting at Ananda Village last night. As usual we started with a couple of songs, one of which was The Secret of Laughter.
I’ve sung this song hundreds of times over the years, but last night I experienced — yet again — how much depth there is in these apparently lighthearted and fun lyrics!
In fact, I discovered how The Secret of Laughter pretty much covers everything I’m learning as I move through treatments for cancer: mainly the importance of laughing, giving, and especially singing.
I found so much meaning in the final verse last night: Sing when the sun shines, sing when the rain falls, Sing when your road seems strange. In a tempest, seize the lightning flash, And ride the winds of change!
We’ve certainly been traveling a pretty strange road lately, with lots of changes still ahead. But we’re managing to keep singing and laughing, and we’re finding joy everywhere.
LYRICS:The Secret of Laughter The secret of laughter lies in the laughing, Not in the search for joy: It’s a swallow winging on the wind! It’s innocence in a boy.
CHORUS Luru luru lero, Luru luru lye! Joy will come to anyone Whose heart has learned to fly!
Joy in the singing, not in the song sung, Welcome, but never crave: If you think that laughter lies in things, To things you’ll be but a slave! CHORUS
Joy in the giving, not in the gaining: Grasp, and you’ll never sing— You could win the world and still be poor; Win peace, and live like a king! CHORUS
Sing when the sun shines, sing when the rain falls, Sing when your road seems strange. In a tempest, seize the lightning flash, And ride the winds of change! CHORUS
