Archive for April, 2010

Apr 24 2010

“You Are So Loved” – Issue #50

I’ve heard that some people sail through chemotherapy. I was hoping I would be one of those fortunate sailors. Alas, I am a seasick sailor. I started chemo last Monday and it has shivered me timbers and left me a bit woozy and bluesy.

I have felt myself shlumping like an old gray mare this week, suffering with a queasy stomach and no appetite. I’m trying to remember my chemo sabe attitude of last week, but instead I’m feeling chemo sobby — as in boo hoo, this sucks. I don’t want to get stuck in the energy of that old gray (night)mare. But I also don’t want to be “false positive”.

I went to a doctor appointment yesterday, and while in the waiting room I eavesdropped on a concerned father who was talking on his cell phone to his obviously distraught daughter:

“I want you to know I love you very much,” he said to her. “I love all of you, just the way you are, the good and the not so good, every single thing about you I love. It’s okay to cry. Tears are good. Things grow in a wet environment. Let yourself cry all that you want. It’s helping you grow. I am so proud of you. I know this is hard for you, and you’re doing wonderful. Just put one foot in front of the other, one step at time, that’s all you have to do. I love you so very much.”

Tears came to my eyes. He was like an angel father from heaven, talking to her so tenderly, showing how supremely precious she was to him, saying all the things a suffering daughter craves to hear, allowing her to be right where she was. I imagined that he was my angel father speaking to me so lovingly and tenderly. Angels are all around us.

Several years ago, during a ‘dark night of my soul’, feeling down about myself, I prayed for help. At that moment a card, that was displayed on the shelf beside me, floated to the floor. I picked it up and on it was a big rainbow heart, and the words “You are so loved.” That was such a powerful reminder to me that I am not alone, I am being watched over, I am loved. A few weeks ago I taped that card to my mirror so I can see it everyday and be reminded of that.

I am now being an angel to myself, talking to myself in a loving way, like that father talked to his precious daughter. “I love you very much. You are being so brave. You are facing your worst fears. Just take one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. It’s okay to cry. Let it out. You are doing great. I am so proud of you. Know how very loved you are.”

I opened the Pema Chodron book I’ve been reading, “The Places that Scare You”, to this angel-sent quote: “The ‘secret’ of life that we are all looking for is just this: to develop the power and the courage to return to that which we have spent a lifetime hiding from, to rest in the bodily experience of the present moment – even if it is a feeling of being humiliated, of failing, of abandonment, of unfairness.” (Charlotte Joko Beck)

And then laughing angels flipped the book open to this quote, “In the garden of gentle sanity, may you be bombarded by coconuts of wakefulness.” (Chogyan Trungpa Rinpoche). I love that! I am being bombarded by coconuts of wakefulness! “Wake up and love yourself right where you are. Breathe into this moment, allowing, accepting, embracing all that is happening, crying when you need to, and laughing too.”

The funny thing is, as I do this, I begin to breathe and relax, and the queasy feeling becomes a more easy feeling. My resistance to what is happening has created more discomfort and queasiness than the chemo itself. Resistance is a powerful force – and so is acceptance.

Is there something in your life that you’ve been resisting? Is there something that’s been rocking your boat? Be an angel, and love love love yourself just as you are, right where you are.

In Love,
Jan Jacobsen

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Apr 18 2010

Radiantly Alive! – Issue #49

Recently I began my first radiation treatment. The next morning I awoke all aglow, abuzz, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and radiantly alive! I have committed to a course of treatment that involves about six weeks of radiation, 5 days a week, 20 minutes each session. I will also be receiving chemo once a week, a low dose to help the radiation work better. I may even get to keep my hair, though I bought a really cool wig just in case. I have leapt fully into this adventure, 100% committed to it, finally. Even though I am not given great odds by the doctors, I am an odd person, so that adds to my odds, right?

The last few weeks I have been on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride emotionally, bouncing around between decisions like, should I do alternative treatment, conventional, some of both? At times, when facing these life and death decisions, I have felt crushed by anxiety, and in that state I’ve wished that this life was all over, finished, caput. I have careened from a desolate sense of being abandoned, to being in an exhilarated state of wild abandon, letting go, letting it all hang out. Facing and accepting death can be very liberating.

In that spirit of wild abandon, Tom and I have freed our housebound, indoor kitties, Zeena and Bo, into the world. Watching them tentatively put first one paw, then the other in slow motion over the threshold to a whole new world was like watching my children take their first steps. They are freed from a mother’s fear to explore the wild and wonderful world outside. My sweet kitties are now carnivorous hunters, hunting prey (instead of each other) and proudly bringing their terrified prizes home to their terrified mama. There is a lizard hiding under the refrigerator as I speak. (I wear slippers all the time now.)

As part of this journey, Tom and I have unclenched around our money issues. At first, when this all began, there was the question for me, “Your money or your life?” Hmm, I’m thinking, I’m thinking. And for Tom, “Your money or your wife?” But, like Zeena and Bo, we have been freed, sprung from the tight confines of our money fears. We are now willing to completely let go of our money — opening our hands and our hearts like parachutes, we leap, trusting we will land securely in our ‘trust’ fund. Geronimo!

During these last few weeks I have been confronted with an old filter of mine, a cynical voice that keeps piping in. A nurse asked for a list of the supplements and herbs I take, which are numerous. She said, “Wow, you take a lot.” “Yeah, a lot of good it did me,” I said bitterly. I hear my 80-year-old neighbor hacking next door from years of smoking cigarettes, and my cynical one sneers, “That cig-sucking old lady is probably going to outlive me.”

Cynny (my cynical one) feels like a victim. The world is against her. She is doomed and damned pissed off about it. Through this cynical filter, chemo and radiation are just a further assault. “Yeah, I go through all that agony and torture and I probably die anyway.” The chemo doctor told me that my cancer is in a bad place (pelvic area) and will be very painful as it grows, and even if the treatment gets it to move to another place, that would be a good thing because any place else is better than where it is. Cynny thought, “Oh great — can this nightmare get any worse!?”

I used to live in that negative attitude — now I just visit it. It is a good yardstick for how far I have come. When Cynny pipes in, I play with her, exaggerate her. She likes to wallow in the moan and groan zone. I make the moaning and groaning even moanier and groanier. Just how bitter can I let myself be? I play with bitter til I feel better.

I see so clearly…that is one of the big healings that needs to happen…that bitter tude, and the fear and sadness that lie beneath it. This is an opportunity for me to heal that old wound, to befriend this experience by reframing the chemo as ‘chemo sabe’, seeing it as a friend instead of a fiend, imagining it as a healing elixir intent upon helping me.

While receiving my first radiation treatment yesterday, I visualized shimmering angels directing the beam of light right to the tumor, and protecting the surrounding tissue. When the treatment was done I was told that the machine they are using is the best in the world, the state of the art Novalis, designed to do minimal damage to healthy tissue, and maximal targeting of the tumor. The radiation therapist said, “Somebody likes you.”

Then there is Tom, whose presence in my life reminds me that miracles are possible. He also reminds me, “This is all about soul growth. It’s all good. We’re right where we’re supposed to be.” He is the perfect partner for me on this journey, helping me to remember that this is happening for my higher good, it is about learning, healing my soul, and my emotions. This is the big healing — the big show — this is it! In this awareness, I feel excited about the opportunity for some big-time soul growth.

I recently read about someone who referred to himself as ‘cancer enlightened’ instead of ‘cancer survivor.’ I like that. I am becoming cancer enlightened, radiating from this experience, shining the healing light on all that is ready to be healed.

Is there something in your life that is ready to be healed, to be radiated, to be played with, to be loved? Heal-elujah!

In Love,
Jan Jacobsen

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Apr 04 2010

Getting to the Miracle-Prone Zone – Issue #48

Because of my health crisis I am experiencing accelerated growth, emotionally, spiritually, in my relationship with Tom – and, unfortunately, in my tumor. My little bundle of growth (opportunity) is literally a pressing issue, and despite my onslaught of alternative healing modalities, the tumor is aggressive and requiring immediate and much stronger action.

I saw a radiologist last week and he wants to begin treatment right away. Tom and I pressed him to give us a ballpark percentage of the cure rate and he reluctantly said it was about 20%. That’s not good. He said chemo would probably add another 20% chance. Ouch. (Surgery is not an option because of its difficult location).

My mind took those figures in and deduced, “I’m toast. This is a crapshoot. It’s a long shot. Why go through all that misery and have it not even work?” My breath was sucked out of me and I became engulfed in a crushing anxiety of such magnitude that I hoped to be zapped by lightening or a heart attack right then and there. Panic screamed, “Get me out of here! Put me out of my misery!”

This was my mind run amuck, which can be a very dangerous thing. The mind, seeing dire possibilities, concentrates on that outcome to the exclusion of any other outcome, and through the power of that focus brings about that outcome. A voice within urgently said, “You are in danger girl! Get yo butt to the miracle-prone zone!”

That is the place beyond mind, it is meta-mind -– it is beyond physical, it is metaphysical. It is a magical place where anything is possible, where miracles happen. It is that faith-fueled state of grace where everything we need flows to us easefully, where a flourish of ‘coincidences’ occur and things turn out better than our limited minds could ever imagine.

How do I get to that magical realm? How do I become miracle prone? The old song comes to mind, “It’s so high, we can’t get over it, it’s so low, we can’t get under it, it’s so wide, we can’t go around it, we gotta go through the door.” Going through the door means opening to facing and feeling my feelings fully, letting the river of tears flow and flow and flow. Once spent, I take a big breath of acceptance, “Here I am, this is what’s happening. Now…here…this.”

Feeling and breathing is ventilating the situation, bringing oxygen and light to it, which eventually allows a stillness where healing love and energy can fill and surround me. Being porous to that energy carries me to the spacious field of the miracle prone zone. Being in the energy of “poor us” keeps me closed off from that powerful healing energy field –- therefore, moment to moment, I have a choice to become expanded and porous or stay contracted and stuck in “poor us.”

In my research I’ve found there is compelling evidence that cancer growth is triggered by lack of oxygen to the cells. Fear and anxiety exist in shallow breath and create a fertile environment for cancer to grow. The energy of faith and trust stimulate slow, deep, easy breaths, creating an atmosphere for healing and miracles.

A friend of mine recently showed me her impression of the Arabian stallions she saw recently. They are very spirited, with their heads held high, tossing their manes grandly and strutting their magnificent stuff with great panache. When I am aware of myself moving in a way that is trudging along, in an energy of “poor, poor pitiful me,” like an old grey mare, I remember my friend’s impression and I change my stance and I start to prance and dance like an Arabian stallion, tossing my mane, feeling my supreme value. By doing that I change my biology, I stimulate life-enhancing energies within me, and I project that out to others and they reflect that back to me. I prance my way right out of the “poor me, moan and groan zone” and into the miracle-prone zone.

Another powerful way to become miracle prone is to come purely, wholly, completely into this…eternal…now…moment. Time magically expands in the eternal now and we are freed from the confines of time. Tom and I have been meeting eyes, drinking in each other and the moment, breathing in, breathing out. Now. Now. Now. All time is Now. In this spacious present there is plenty of time. Abundant time. Right now I am here. Right now I am alive. Right now I am breathing fully. Right now life is beautiful.

I have been anchoring my awareness in the realm of miracles by making note of the ‘coincidences’ that have come from being in the flow. Like the woman administering my PET CT Scan who was named Janet Lee, just like me. She had a healing, loving presence that helped de-traumatize my experience of medical care. I also consulted with an elderly colonics healer named Alice, my mother’s name. My mother installed in me the ISH issue (shaming my elimination functions, which might be contributing to my blockage). This Alice, who even looked a little like my mother, was someone who celebrated and encouraged elimination, helping me to heal my ISHsues.

I am focusing on the miracles that have happened in the last year and a half, reminding my skeptical mind of the unlimited possibilities that have come my way. My appendix burst and was necrotic and gangrenous, the worst my doctor had even seen, and I survived! That is a miracle! Houdini died of a burst appendix – that great escape artist could not escape that fate. But the great Jandini did! And miraculously, most of my medical bills were handled by a financial assistance program (I have no insurance). The same thing happened for my hysterectomy a few months after that. I call that ‘mira-cal’ health insurance, and feel very blessed.

I have been immersing myself in the Seth books, which remind me that right NOW is the point of power, anything we have set in motion with our thoughts and beliefs can be changed in this NOW point of power. I have discovered to my surprise that there are Seth books I wasn’t previously aware of called “The Magical Approach” and also “The Way Toward Health” — both are about how to enter the metaphysical field of unlimited healing possibilities. I’m reading those books now, and in them Seth is advising Jane Roberts (who channeled Seth) on how to deal with her life threatening health problems. I have my handwritten letter from Jane Roberts on my bed stand, reminding me of our vast powers and possibilities.

I also look at my cat Zeena and am reminded of the death sentence she received from the vet — yet Zeena lives! A miracle! I loved her back to life.

Then of course, there is the wondrous Tom – the greatest miracle of my life. I was hardwired to live my life alone, but through the power of intention and getting myself into the miracle-prone zone, Tom came into my life and we continue to thrive in a beautiful, loving, learning, fun, playful, spiritual partnership that just keeps getting better and better.

I believe in miracles. Miracles do happen. That is the energy field I want to continue cultivating and living in. I know that I am healing the emotional blockage this tumor represents. Whether my body goes along with this emotional healing, I don’t know. That’s out of my hands. I will do all that I can do and rest in the spacious field of the miracle-prone zone. I would consider the healing of my emotional blockages in this lifetime a major miracle. I believe that chemo and radiation may be the next adventure, the next growth opportunity to heal my fears and beliefs, and hopefully, it will yield the next miracle.

Are you ready for a miracle in your life? Then get yo butt to the miracle- prone zone and be ready for surprises!

In Love,
Jan Jacobsen

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Apr 01 2010

Shimmying and Shaking the Genie out of the Bottle – Issue #47

I’ve heard that the experience of death feels like a genie being released from the bottle. Life can feel like that too when we free ourselves from the tight confines of our fears and programming. I am opting for the life version of releasing my genie, uncorking the big energy of my bottled-up life force.

I have put myself on a healing program that includes dancing, bouncing, shimmying and shaking every morning to move lymph through my body, reduce stress, oxygenate myself and free up my expanded energy field…and I am doing it outside! I am boldly going where I dared not go before.

In the past my fears have kept me from dancing outside, fears that the neighbors might judge me, embarrassed to reveal my white dimpled arms and legs, afraid that being barefoot outside might cut my feet on something, scared that sunlight causes cancer. But now, barefoot, bare arms and legs, I am shaking and shimmying my pelvis like Elvis for all the neighbors to see. All my fears are coming to light, coming to dance in the light.

As I was dancing I noticed that at times my shaking, bouncing and shimmying had a frantic element in it. I wasn’t moving in harmony with my fear, I was moving in disharmony, trying to get away from it. That shook loose a big learning for me — I see that so much of what I’ve done to protect myself from the big bad scary world, doing ‘all the right things’ has been fear-based.

I’ve been trying to control my world by carefully avoiding toxins and dangers — I’ve been anal retentively trying to maneuver my ducks in a row and keep them there. But all my efforts to get my ducks in a row just quacks them up! And the fears underneath those efforts to protect myself have proven to be more toxic that what I’ve been trying to protect myself from.

Fear has become a cork in my bottle, and, literally, in my bottom in the form of cancer. It is time to unclench! To pop my cork! To face and release the energy of my fear and anger and full aliveness.

A friend told me of someone she knows who loves to swim in the ocean but is afraid of sharks. He decided to imagine himself swimming into the jaws of the shark, right into the belly of the beast. He met his fear head on and the fear subsided. I am meeting my worst fear head on, I am facing the beast in my belly, cancer, and seeing that it’s just a frightened, pissed off little girl, curled up in a ball, in a fist, in a fetal position. Come sweetheart, let’s blow this popstand! Let’s explode into our full aliveness! You have a right to be here, to be fully here, with all your piss and vinegar, all the colors of your being. Let yourself be big and bold and alive! The universe awaits us with open arms!

Clearing this blockage, healing this little girl, and uncorking my aliveness has become my passion and my mission. I have kept my two cats Bo and Zeena captive inside, afraid to release them into the big bad world of coyotes and fleas and cars and other cats, afraid that I might lose them. They look out the window longing to explore the rich, scary, exciting world outside. In the spirit of liberation, I am freeing my kitties! I am opening the door and releasing them to this great adventure of life! I’m excited for them. I’m excited for me.

This is the great challenge of my soul, to face my worst fear, to face death, to face life. My brother has just set out to sail around the world, stirring his juices, rousing his soul, facing his fears. His adventure sounds more fun. But nothing is as important and exciting to me as meeting this big soul challenge. Sure, I have waves of deep sadness, fear and anger, but I ride those waves to solid ground where I remember who I really am – I am a soul on a great adventure, here to face and free my blockages, to uncork my full aliveness.

Are there places in you where your aliveness has been corked? I invite you to unclench, uncork, free that energy, and let your magnificent, big, bold genie self out of the bottle!

In love,
Jan Jacobsen

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