boobie bump

the letter arrived in the wake of Sandy.  it was a nondescript envelope, white with a window addressed to me.  it looked like it could be an innocuous bill, or an update on privacy stuff from the phone company.  it was part of a big stack of mail I hadn't gotten to... bills, voting promos, bills, flyers, and some magazines.  I was tearing through the pile, toss, toss, toss, toss, when I got to this envelope.  I tore it open with the same desire to get through it as the rest of the stack of mail.

but this letter was not like the others.  it was addressed to me. it was three pages long.  it had the hospital insignia on top.  it was about my mammogram.

it opened with that dear Ms. Mastel thing.. the date of the mammogram and ... something about finding something and needing to follow up... the rest was a blur.  I read that first paragraph repeatedly.  my left boob!  something in there!

my breath grew heavy, the tears swelled uncontrollably, I stared and stared.  the shock was overwhelming, I was seizing where I sat.

picking up the phone, I kept trying to call the doctor but my fingers were slippery from the tears and I couldn't make out the right number on the phone without fumbling.  the anxiety and adrenaline were mounting, and panic drove me forward to getting the number right for my small town local doctor to ask, "what the fuck do I do?"

and so it began, the dialog about what the course of action would be.  I followed his instructions and made the next appointment to see the specialist.  and then... I sat there.  of course, my mind pulled a knee jerk reaction and began to play out the worst case scenario tape ... me dead, Zman alone, life... ended.  the pain, the suffering, the treatments that were torture that didn't work.  my own personal Lifetime chick TV movie unfolding before my very own delusion.

let go, let go... I remembered I have the ability to release that tape and get present.  I allowed myself to really feel what I was feeling, the fear, the anxiety, the unknowing and the sadness.  I used my other senses to see the trees out the window, feel the seat underneath me, feel the sensations under my skin and hear the sounds from inside me to the sounds outside my window.  I practiced mindfulness.  I sat with what is.  and in that moment, I was sitting with agony.

during this .. my electronic feed kept pumping, IM was blowing up with some random guy feeling rejected by the world and asking for advice on how to fit in, emails asking if I can do this or do that, fervent election updates and discussions, and notifications I've been poked.  yes, life kept going, and would keep going with or without this happening.

and so... I keep relaying back to the memories of the Year to Live practice I once experienced.  the important lessons I took away from it, and how I promised myself that I would stick to being ever present and loving.  where did all that go?  it seems that some of it became a habit, and some of it got lost.

on my proverbial deathbed, I had one regret that I hadn't fallen in love again.  I promised myself I would let myself be open and vulnerable when the next right guy arrived.  and one guy did... after that year, I met someone, I fell in love ... and when he broke my heart... I gave up on everything .. especially me.

it has been a crazy bunch of months of gradual dismissal of my self care.  I became a workaholic again in a toxic situation that didn't support me.  I stopped going to the gym and tossed my yoga practice.  the story I told myself is that I don't deserve the dharma, and stopped sitting.  I mean, I just gave up.

so hear I am... two years after I was reincarnated facing the very same scenario I put myself in on June 14th, 2009.  what if you had only a year to live?  (note: of course NO ONE is talking about this at this time.  drs. have not concluded that it's more than a bump on a film)  I've been taking inventory over the past two days about what I've given up over the past two years since I "died".  it's pretty apparent that I've given up on me.  this needs to be the wake up call to bring me back to that awesome place I was in on my 42nd birthday ... right before ... my heart broke and took me with it.

my friend Paul did the Year to Live practice right before me, in fact, he was a big inspiration for me to want to follow suit.  I remember we were on retreat, and he said, "I wish I had more time in buddhist practice before I took this on, I wasn't ready."  interesting observation, but here I am, facing this boob thing, and well, I'm not ready.  I don't think we get to be ready for the last year of our life.  isn't that part of the practice?  having it come when we're not ready?

I spend months getting "ready" to kick off my Year to Live, I read, I planned, I made a blog... all "ready" to do this! today, it's not about being ready, it is about having no choice.

with a sense of urgency, I have invited ongoing the mindfulness practice back into my life now, because I have no choice.  my intake of food, the way I treat myself, the need to be vigilant about working out, yoga, meditation and self care are more vital than ever.  not because I'm possibly "sick" but because I deserve it.  I'm going to break out the juicer, go for long walks, take moments throughout the day to do something un-work related and spend more time engaging with the people who truly matter.

I've decided, that maybe, with or without a bad diagnosis, it's time to do a do-over on the Year to Live.  why? because the universe is telling me I have to, because the quality of my life depends on it.  ready or not... I wake up tomorrow and start again. 

reincarnated livelihood becomes right livelihood

when I embarked on my year to live practice back in June of 2009, I was employed by an abusive employer in a toxic work environment.  during those days, while I was exploring how I wanted to 'end' my life... I knew that this was something I very much wanted to change.  getting up in the morning and leaving the house to go to work for that wretchedly domineering boss created such a high level of anxiety for me.  living in fear, I was afraid to quit, because I never thought I'd find another job or means to a career ever again.  despite the incredibly poor working conditions, the abuse, the control and the overall lack of respect my employer had for me, I remained accountable and continued to work that thankless job with all the excellence I could muster. 

it doesn't take very much for me to reflect on that time, I relive the painful anxiety I felt daily.  fear was driving my decisions, and for me, I couldn't see a way out.

a few months after I started my year to live practice... and over a year in that position.... I had promoted an awesome event for the 3rd time, doubled the numbers from the year before, brought in thousands more dollars and heaps of press for the company.  it was an unbelievable success!!!  as I walked into work that next morning, I expected applause and a raise.  instead, I was called into my boss' office and terminated!!! continuing to feed my fear, as he illegally threatened me... I agreed to his terms and with integrity and diplomacy, I finalized my working arrangement with class and grace.

as I walked out the door, no one knowing I had been fired, I felt a certain sense of pride in my accountability and ability to be so professional despite the circumstances.  I remember getting in my car and driving out of the parking lot that morning... and as I drove down the main drag, out of Rhinebeck, and over the Kingston/Rhinecliff Bridge, I made a promise to myself.... never again will I let myself erode like that in a work environment again.  I swore on that day that I would spend the rest of my life broke before going through something like that again.

I went back to school.  my freelance work was slow but steady enough to cover my expenses.  I cut back on my spending to mere needs like food and utilities.  like a good little buddhist, I let go of material needs and replaced them with a feeling of peace I hadn't felt in some time (if ever).  despite my financial state, the fear of economic insecurity left me... and I relished that I had a chance to break the fetters of abuse to find a new path.  letting go of the desperate chase, the fearful dynamic and the need to grab onto something.... I put myself first and embarked on a new way to support myself.  I let work come to me. 

what, work come to me?  yes.... without fighting for it... I've learned to attract work and treat my right livelihood as a priority.

fast forward.... to today.  I had an awesome day.  my career seems to be attached to positive opportunity... and the energy and excitement around it is inspiring.  I'm surrounded by interesting projects, new opportunities to learn new things, clients who encourage me, people who say thank you and a feeling of encouragement I haven't felt in many, many years.  my lifestyle choices are nourished by the kinds of work I am doing, and I can see balance ahead in my future.  it's not in my present, but the life I dreamed of... that life of being able to support myself and take care of myself by working with people who want to take care of me... it is coming to fruition.

this process that is unfolding is directly related to the experiences I had during my year to live practice.  I'm so incredibly grateful today... yes, gratitude for my livelihood, not only because I have work but because I'm surrounded by positive projects and people who chose to encourage, educate and inspire me. 

since my death, I've had days where I wondered what I died for.  right now, it's pretty clear that I died to feel like 'this', enthusiastic about my career path and all the people who are in it.