As I continue my journey to a healthier, more spiritual way of life now that my treatment is all but concluded, I find myself in an emotionally fragile state of mind as I continue my travel towards a higher frequency. The HOLIDAYS (usually preceeded by the word DREADED) have been a source of exponentially increasing sadness and disappointment for me since about the age of 8. The year my father disappeared from my life forever, leaving a terribly dark and lonely void in my life. Thanks to an overly ritualistic mother who cooked up bountiful feasts and decorated our home in what she and Norman Rockwell imagined as the perfect holiday ambiance, I have struggled over the decades to live up to her expectations, not to mention standards. All the while trying to maintain a “happy” family level of participation, complete with reunions that were not only unwelcome, they were disdained.
Enough, and done. But I can now truly release these memories and apsirations with love, instead of regret and angst. The concept of our U.S. Thanksgiving holiday is certainly a noble one, but the reality is far less so. The Native Americans celebrate a National Day of Mourning to mark this holiday. Having lived on the Pine Ridge Reservation for a year, I not only understand but relate to their sentiments. I prayed in many a ceremony with my adopted Lakota family and friends, and we always ended every prayer with the words “Mitakuye Oyasin”. We are all related. That is my belief and the reality that I choose to live.
So with Thanksgiving behind us and Christmas ever looming (since before Halloween, for crying out loud!), H and I are committed to creating our own traditions and special days to celebrate our lives and loved ones throughout the year. One less turkey has to die for our day of thanks. One less tree has to die to light our lives with joy. No more excursions to the ridiculously over-crowded battle ground also known as the urban mall. That’s a lot to give thanks for already!
Speaking of thanks, tomorrow my port is going to be removed from my chest. It has been a constant, physically and emotionally obtrusive reminder of my year of toxic infusions. For me, it signifies a true closure to the chemo experience. The fat lady is warming up her vocal chords as I write, ready to sing a joyous song of spiritual love and physical health. Mitakuye Oyasin.
Dec. 1, 2013
Judy Richter 