Meditations in Flight

Two and a half hours til we land. Looks like we could be early. I am on US Air flight 1959 from Seattle to Philadelphia. I just woke up a bit ago, after trying to sleep. I was kind of anxious last night before I went to sleep, and woke up around 4:00. I left where I was later than I wanted to, but managed to be at the car rental place, just at 6:00.

It is something to consider that moment that was so far into the future, a point I wasn't even certain I'd make, a point I was working toward for my whole trip, now lives in the past. It came and it went. Just like *that,* and with it went 27 days of traveling. Each day left on its own accord, in its own time, but as a community - they have all now passed into a different awareness and place.

What does it mean?

Some would say it means nothing. Days passing inherently mean nothing. But what they take with them, or what they give, does have the potential to have great meaning.

Before May 14, 2012 I lived life without an awareness that cancer had nested in my body. I did things while the tumor grew - like move to California - that I may never have done had I known about it, had I been treated sooner. Some people say our body will have a tendency, and even after surgery and chemo if there is no path change, there will be more to deal with.

I have been spending time and energy educating people about ovarian cancer. Some will still find out about it later than others. Is early discovery a good thing? I wonder, especially given there are those in Stage Four that go into remission, if it is "just" a thing.

I knew nothing of the tumor and I lived life, but not as I would have wanted to, but rather as I felt I needed to. I settled for things. I tolerated things. Then one day it suddenly all changed. The brakes went on, and everything came to a screeching halt. I made impossible choices, and I did what the doctors wanted me to do ultimately. I have tried the second guessing game more than once since then, but have to believe that the way things happened is the way things were supposed to happen - for me.

cancer wasn't done with me after what I went through last year. There was more to come. There was more to deal with, more story to tell, more life to live. The lessons I have been learning are in vivid color: trust tops the list. Trust my intuition. Trust what comes next when I follow my intuition. Trust myself, when it comes to myself, despite what others think or believe or want.

I also learned many other things, or perhaps re-learned them, or have been reminded that...there are some places you can not go back to. That there are other places, even if you can, won't be the same as you thought. Even if the shell of a place is the same, it doesn't mean the heart will remain constant. I learned that even in the dark you can find your way, if you have some help, and you just keep going. I learned that talking to strangers can be incredibly touching, and that it only takes a fraction of a moment to be truly and deeply touched by another. I have learned how intertwined our lives can be, and how we are likely to impact others, fortunate if we know how, but more times than not, in our silence never knowing the magic that has occurred. I learned that just because something looks a way we recognize, it doesn't mean it is what we think it is. I learned that sometimes not knowing what is coming is better than knowing - especially if there is a chance we would forfeit an opportunity due to fear of what we think we know. I learned that sometimes to truly appreciate something you have to sometimes go from going very fast to standing very still. I learned that there is much that you can appreciate, even as you are going fast. I learned that each and every moment counts because you never truly know if the next one is coming. And with that, each and every person counts.

You just never know who might touch you, or could be touched by you. You can second guess and wonder about every moment and everything you do, but the way you best know if you are doing the right thing for yourself is by how you feel in that moment. If you feel antsy or concerned or anxious, it is quite possible that you are making a different choice than perhaps you should, or are at odds with the part of you that knows what should be done with the part of you that thinks it knows. Making the best possible choices for ourselves will not always be easy. They will not always be the choice others think you should make. They will often defy logic. In making the choices that speak to us we may never know if a different choice was a better one, but we probably won't care because in the midst of everything that we are feeling there will be an inner knowing, a peace, and we will know that we have done exactly what we needed to do.

In my young 20s, I met someone I felt I had to be with. Despite reservations, despite logic, I picked up and moved to be with him. I told myself that no matter what happened, I would be without regret. I never wanted to get to the point that I would ask myself, "What would have happened if...?" I had had a similar possibility before him, but I didn't go there with the other guy.  The road I chose was rough, and I learned a lot about myself and about abusive relationships along the way. I dropped judgments. I was able to offer perspective to others I could not have otherwise.

Some might say I made a poor choice. I think I made the choice I needed to make. I have never once regretted it.

Regardless of what happens next in my life, I am at another point that I know with absolute certainty that I made the right choice for myself. I was terrified to take this trip. But I knew I had to do it. I had no idea what was on the other side, and I still don't. But what I do know is that I did what I had to do, even when I had no clue exactly what that was at any given moment.

I relish the opportunities I had to meet those that I did. I relish the delicious scenery I saw. I relish my ability to go forward in spite of my concerns. I love myself for that, actually. What an incredible gift this trip was.

(The captain just said we will be landing soon. I had stopped writing for a bit to talk to my seat-mate.)

I am grateful for a trip that has had me flying above the clouds, driving through the mountains, seeing deserts and beaches. For a trip that had me feeling the warmth of the sun, and the crispness of the coolness of fall.  For a trip that furnished beautiful sunsets and sunrises. For being able to walk and able to enjoy riding in a train, a plane, an automobile.

We have an incredible world and opportunity here, as the species that we are. We have so much to appreciate right in front of us, that we can all too often miss because we get caught up in anything but the beauty available to us in any given moment. This is not to say we should always be focusing on beauty, but rather that it simply exists as a possible point of focus. It is in seeing the less than beautiful that I am able to really appreciate what is possible. It is in knowing what it feels like to be limited that I am able to enjoy the freedom of going places that at one time would not be possible.

In some ways I feel very much like I did before my diagnosis. I am living life without knowing what will end it, or when. A part of me almost doesn't want to find out what the test says. Another part would love to hear the amazement of a miracle manifest.

At the moment I am calm. I hope to be able to maintain much of what I feel now and have learned the last several weeks.

I am also hungry. I ate a banana earlier, and that is it. I have a few snacks, but they're buried. I need to eat something, though, as I can't eat tomorrow until my test is over. That is too long to go without food. I have to figure out what I can eat, as carbohydrates before a pet scan can distort the results.

As I look out the window, I am seeing yet another sunset. Setting down at sunset, as my trip is having its own sunset. It seems rather apropos. It was also interesting for me to note that I happened to look at the car clock this morning at 5:55. Once again, the numbers were appearing a certain way, as they has throughout the trip: 444, 555, 1234, 345, and similar type sequences - many, many times.

We just landed. Now to figure out how to get off the plane, and on with my life.