Its October 8th. Kind of a personal holiday for me, a date to celebrate. Seven years ago today my friends, family and community threw the most amazing fundraiser for me; a party more joyful than any I’ve ever attended, before or since. I still had several radiation treatments to go but as far as I was concerned, I felt wonderful and considered myself well beyond cancer. I have seen pictures and now realize that I had a bit of peach fuzz on my head but no eyebrows / eyelashes and yet I felt more beautiful than ever.
I continue to celebrate all year long – health, wealth, happiness – but like most people I can get bogged down with everyday stuff and it is the anniversary dates that remind me of how blessed I am. Funny that my own personal date should fall in October, a month that while raising awareness of cancer also, to be honest, really gets under my fingernails with its pink commercialism. You may think it as merely a difference in wording but I cringe when I hear over and over again about the “fight against cancer”. I am a fighter but what I will fight for is life. I will fight for health. I will most certainly fight for LOVE. But to “fight against cancer” is to elevate cancer to the status of worthy contender and it is not. I will not give it my undivided attention or my respect.
Be a warrior for LOVE!
I am a slave to perfection. Is there an -aholism for that? (I’m also a book-aholic but that is for another post.) I’m not saying I ever really ACHIEVE perfection, more that I am bound by it, like a pig trussed for slaughter. The truth is that there is both no such thing as perfection and at the same time everything is perfect. Trying to be perfect is a lot like searching all over the house for your sunglasses, giving up and then finding that they’ve been on your face the entire time.
What is the point of this post? Only that its been ten days or so since my last one and despite many thoughts of “oh, I should post about that”, there has been no posting simply because, in my mind, there hasn’t been the possibility of “perfect”. You know what the world at large gets when we demand only the perfect? Mostly, nothing.