Friday's Child: Soul Survivor

Sometimes you just don’t see it coming...

All your intuitions are tuned to the cosmic radio stations, but you just don’t get the full frequency.

Until you do.

And then you don’t know what the hell to do.

Dusk.

Dusk.

The solar eclipse brought news: My stepfather is dying.

Late stage cancer is consuming his body, while “treatments” destroy what little is left, and steroids turn his anger and fear up full volume.

He has always been a difficult person to love. And I love him still.

Warm and ornery, genuine and unbelievable, a continent-sized ego piloted by an intense need for attention, he has been my ally and comrade, my enemy, my dear father, and a complete stranger.

And as I watch him deteriorate, I am aware that the Buddhist monks (as always) have it figured out: Cancer is, indeed, the Hell Realm.

I see so much fear and confusion in his eyes. He has no understanding of the work that must be done before death. He doesn’t see how what we do here carries into the next life. The only blessing here is that my mother is beginning to get it. And for this I am grateful.

Through times like these, it can be really hard to remember your own well being. These are the prime moments to sink back into bad habits, let stress take center stage, eat poorly, and allow intense frustration and upset to create a downward spiral into self pity, depression, and rage. But here’s the thing: The Cosmos gives us, during these most trying times, the purrfect opportunity to remember our own health, the ability to not become the effect of genetics or conditioning. 

Here’s where we make a massive effort to eat well, to sleep, to find quiet space in the craziest and most turbulent days to get outside and let nature into our hearts. We have to.

Food for Life.

Food for Life.

I’ve kind of gone into this survival mode of fresh juices, lots of shake elixirs, ‘cause I don’t know about you, but at the first sign of upset my insides go haywire. The ulcer I contracted when I eighteen (!) flares up like a mofo. I can’t eat, but when I do, I invariably reach for something weird, like a full-sugar/wheat muffin...something I wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole on any other day, the kind of thing I rally against as part of my career, and my lifestyle. This is what stress, and unconcious eating can do to us. F**k that.

So, we make the best choices we can, whether we’re stuck in a hospital for eighteen hours, or just blindly getting through a day.

I been putting myself to bed absurdly early, whenever I can, because I need every ounce of my strength right now. I keep my bag stuffed with raw nuts, dried fruits, cacao beans. I'm downing copious amounts of kombucha, kefir, and water with a little of Contessa's lemon essential oil. The rote fix right now would be to mainline coffee, which would only add to my stress and fire up my ulcer...so, no. 

I remember to get air, and sun, and stars...even for just a moment. 

'Cause the dandelions are everywhere.

"Dandelion make me wise..."

"Dandelion make me wise..."

My Loves, if any of you are having a similar experience, or have stories to share, I would so like to hear them in the comments below. And any help I can give you to stay afloat, to keep well and sane, by all means, just ask.

And thank you for giving me this space to open up and tell you what's going on. (I'm an Aries with a double Scorpio, so I don't admit defeat easily. And I prefer mystery to baring my soul.)

I’ll see you next week. And we’ll kick ass.

To Your Beautiful Health and Well-Being, now and always.

xxx Alise

Follow me on Bloglovin'