Someone asked me recently what brings me joy. Such a good question, and to be honest, I am a bit daunted by it. Not because it's hard to answer, but because it's so easy, in some ways. It simply depends on my perspective.
Sometimes, waking up in my own bed, with my whole family together, brings me great joy. Especially when it's on the heels of a hospital stay, where we have been separated by circumstance. On those days, the feel of my own bed, the ability to fully hug another human, the taste of homemade coffee and the chance to throw the ball for the dog with said coffee steaming in the morning mist... Oh, the sweetness of it, the beautiful familiarity and coziness of it all, can be all-consuming.
Sometimes, it's the ability to leave my house, walk into my studio or altar space, and have silence or stillness that bring joy. It's that incredible freedom that comes with every step as I walk from those kids, who I would give my everything to and do - and walk back to myself. When I center down, and in, and listen for my very Soul, and answer Her - oh! The joy overflows through the very space around me as I call my Self back Home.
Sometimes, it's the moment when my dog looks at me with absolute delight in his eyes, and asks me to throw the ball just one more time.
Sometimes, it's that moment when the light in the sunset is so perfect, and the light plays across the valley in a way that raises the frequency of everything it touches.
Sometimes, it's that moment as I run casually down the road... And then realize that I am able to run casually down the road and I marvel as my feet hit the ground without pain, and appreciate the feeling of the strength and speed, hidden under these stories of pain and disability.
Sometimes, it's the way my kids cuddle in together, or play together, and I can see the mutual absolute adoration between them, and my heart tries to split wide open...
The truth is, the very fact that I get to be alive brings me great joy these days. This has not always been the case, and is likely not where you would imagine I would be at this point in my life. But I would be foolish in the extreme if I were to deny all of the times that I have had a second or a third chance. My life has been filled with chances. I am deeply blessed to have had as many as I have had.
I have spent years feeling confused, guilty, rootless... Survivor’s guilt is a real and powerful thing. But no more. I do not feel guilt that I have survived to this point in my life.
Now, I feel well used, and grateful. And like I have a responsibility: to live this incredible gift of incarnation completely. To know the sweetness of life and second chances, to know what it is to be reincarnated, to rise from the ashes. To honour this gift by remembering everyday what a miracle this world is, and what an incredible opportunity to be a human at this time on earth.
And then to share it all, from deep within, answering the call of my Awakened Soul.
Welcome to my blog!
I have long been called to live my life in a spirit of Radical Vulnerability. This blog is the next level of this social experiment. I offer you my stories and my heart, in hopes that it will inspire you to do the same for another.
We live in a time of massive transformation. All around us, social systems are crumbling, only to make way for something new to be born in their place. We have the deep honour and responsibility to live embodied on planet earth during this time of great upheaval.
As we begin to co-create a world that supports the great diversity of experiences, needs, and perspectives of all living things, may we also find new ways of living into our truth. May we offer our hearts, our Souls, to act always for the Highest Good of All.
It is with this prayer that I offer you my stories, told from my heart to yours, for the Highest Good of All Beings.
****In honour of Childhood Cancer Awareness Month (September), I have decided to share personal accounts - both as a teen, going through leukemia treatments, and as a mom, walking beside my son as he goes through his own leukemia treatments. He was four at diagnosis, I was thirteen. I’ll share stories that have been written over the last twenty-four years, through my journeying with childhood cancer and its lasting effects.
