A Little Dose of Patience

Cleo is a happy companion on our daily walks. She is only concerned with living and loving…and her next meal.

I’ve been thinking about Doris Day since I heard about her passing this week at the age of 97. I’m envious of her longevity and daring to hope for close to the same for myself. I heard her famous rendition of “Que Sera, Sera” on CBC the other day and I’ve been singing the phrase “whatever will be, will be” ever since.

It’s a good mantra for me currently, as I await pathology results from the recent surgery to remove a malignant tumour and some lymph nodes.

I’ve been walking gingerly along the trails with my black lab mix, Cleo. Each day I get a little faster and a little stronger. Cleo circles me constantly, in and out of the woods. Sometimes it’s sprinkling rain, or windy, and I’ve seen some warmth and sunshine, too. I’ve been putting my hood up and taking it down depending on the mood of the sky at each moment and belting it out:

Whatever will be, will be. The future is ours to see. Que sera, sera.

I love this song. It comes full circle in three verses. First, she is a little girl. Then, she has a sweetheart. Finally, she has children of her own. And what is the advice Doris Day doles out so melodically? Just be patient, life will happen, it will be okay.

Waiting is something I’ve been doing in spurts since February. Clocks are slower when you are waiting for the results of scans or procedures. Snow melts at a trickle. A long winter can become interminable.

But when you remind yourself that you have no control and that “whatever will be, will be,” the weight lifts a little. The present moment becomes important. You play a board game with your kids. You sit longer chatting with your husband over the dirty dishes at the supper table. You read a good book. You have lunch with your parents. You have coffee dates with your friends. You finally call your aunt for a chat. You write a blog.

I have a hard time picturing ladies from the Doris Day generation racing down the street in a minivan with a bunch of kids who are late for soccer practice and are being pressured to be on the honour roll and who forgot, yet again, to practice their piano lessons. In her day, kids went to school and played outdoors. When they wanted to play baseball, they all played together down the street. It was a different time with many challenges, and I don’t want to glamorize it. But we can learn from the simplicity of her song’s message.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t all be productive and busy at times. There are times in life when we must spring into action, as Day herself exemplified through her animal rights advocacy work. But I’ve certainly come to see that having patience means that one must try to experience life in the moment.

Worrying is a waste of time and energy. Worry stresses our body and makes us anxious. When I start to worry, I think “Forget it, now! Whatever will be, will be.” And then I do something else.

It really works.

Thank-you, Doris. Rest in peace, beautiful soul.

The Timber You’re Cutting

Photo credit: Colette Kenney

My cousin, Colette, saw this quote on a whiteboard somewhere and sent it to me recently, and it just seemed to fit so well.

What timber are you cutting today?

We all manage so much over the course of our lives, but there are times when the timber gets really thick, or the saw pile gets really deep, and we have to find the strength to get through it.

On my son’s 15th birthday this year, I walked smack into a whole wide unexpected forest. Diagnosed with colorectal cancer at 11:00 am, I was baking an apple pie at 2:00. My husband and I stumbled through the birthday supper, not looking at one another, and waited until the kids were in bed to stare at one another in crazed disbelief.

My whole life just slammed to a stop, and I was left staring absentmindedly into space or crying in dark corners between doctors’ appointments and scans. My thoughts coiled and uncoiled like a rope. Sometimes panic took the end of the rope in her teeth and ran and ran and it took all of my strength to reign her in.

This is my one of my first blog posts, and I don’t want it to be all about cancer. I want it to be about rewriting life, and cutting through the noise and expectations we shoulder everyday.

The meat falls away from the bone so quickly when things fall apart. Work – there was no way I could navigate my demanding job and deal with cancer treatments at the same time. Social commitments – all of a sudden, my friends became lifelines. Family time – yes please! Each and every interaction with my kids, husband and family became more special to me.

I can look back now only two months later and see how quickly my priorities shifted. I can also look back to that day and remember one strategy that I developed that reliably eased my stress and panic.

It was a visualization strategy, inspired in part by a book I was reading about Buddhism and then brought to life by my observation of a black speck that appeared in the water of my bath that evening. I watched the speck as it dipped and dived with the movement of the water. I moved my knee, and it swirled about in the eddy I created. I sliced my hand sideways and the speck lifted slightly towards the surface on the wave I brought forth.

Watching that speck, I realized that I was exactly the same. No more important, no less important, but caught up in waves and motions that I really could not control. I settled my shoulders down and relaxed and took some deep breaths and thought to myself that I would flow gently along with the waters I was immersed in.

Every day I did this visualization, and it brought me great relief.

What responsibility we shoulder! What great draughts of importance we gulp everyday! Recognizing our humble nature and honouring our helplessness is so freeing.

All we have is this moment in time – the past is gone and the future is yet to come. Right here, right now, we have some substance. Everything else is but a dream.