On D-Day (October 26, 2006) the doctor diagnosed my collection of complaints as cancer. I had crossed the threshold. Looking back, I now recognize the true significance of that event; though the truth has been slow in dawning. No thunderbolt tore the skies; no scales fell from my eyes; no sudden clarifying vision overtook me. I had to live the consequences before I could recognize them.
The passage was rather like emerging from adolescence and realizing suddenly that adulthood was upon me. I was disoriented, with few reference points. I still looked and sounded the same. But inside something had shifted; my mind had stepped slightly to one side while my body remained where it was.
The old habits of thinking, of expectations, the routine that carried me through the day had dissolved, and no amount of clutching could stanch the dribbling away of the familiar. It is rather like crossing a stream on stepping stones, losing sight midway, leaving only the mind’s eye to reconstruct the pathway to safety.
Gradually I became aware of subconsciously reframing my definition of adulthood, given a new set of circumstances. I dropped old ways that were no longer useful to me, and began to investigate ideas and practices that had long been dormant or unknown to me. For example, humor. Formerly I thought of it as a weapon, aimed by me or at me. Now I more often think of it as a hot air balloon, easing life’s burdens especially when I climb into the basket and light the burner. With each reinterpretation of life’s building blocks, I perceive others more sympathetically, and feel more human.
Have I grown up yet? No, but I like the path I’m traveling. Please join me in this journey of discovery.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: September 26, 2008
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
