EnlightenInk Blog

“Our cells are constantly eavesdropping on our thoughts and being changed by them.” I love that quote by Deepak Chopra. It reminds me to be aware of my thoughts and the reality they are creating. Science has shown that our cells literally rearrange themselves according to our thoughts and attitudes. Our cells await our direction, and in the meantime they operate on old habitual programming.

I’m working with a cancer coach (consciouscancerjourney.com) who is providing me with tools that help me to intentionally create the life and state of being that I want. One of the tools is called Scripting, which involves taking time each morning to write down how I desire my day to go, to see my day and my health in positive possibilities as if it were already so. The physical act of writing these desires builds new neural pathways and my cells ‘eavesdrop’ on these affirmations and arrange themselves accordingly.

The days I have scripted have unfolded remarkably close to the script I laid out for that day. However, I was new to scripting and hadn’t made it a habit yet, and I started to forget to do it. Without conscious direction, old thought habits were starting to creep in. I recently awoke constricted in fear with a pain in my butt that had been aching throughout the night. This dull aching pain had been persistent lately. It is the same pain I’d once mistook for hemorrhoids, but my doctor told me that it is most probably referred pain from the site of the tumor. I’d been hoping that all my healing efforts were succeeding in eliminating or holding the cancer at bay (and that may be true, the pain could simply be referred pain from scar tissue from the radiation). However, fear of the worst-case scenario had me in its grip.

I fell into Tom’s arms as the ‘rains’ came, crying, naming my feelings and my worst fears. One of those is that I will die a painful, lingering death. I’m not afraid of death itself, but, as Woody Allen said, “I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” As I cried and acknowledged this fear, a clearing happened — the fear loosened its grip and the pain lessened, giving me the direct experience that fear makes the pain worse. When I’m tense and barely breathing, the pain increases, which makes me more tense, which makes the pain intensify, and so on until before I know it I’m all crunched up in a black hole of fear and pain.

I was feeling better and pain-free from ventilating my feelings, and continued to process with Tom. I told him that I’ve been thinking about going to a medical intuitive because I realize a part of me wants someone to see my energy field and recognize and acknowledge the value of my soul’s journey. I said to Tom, “I wonder what words I would love to hear her say? What higher truth would I love for her to see about me and this health challenge?” I imagined I was the medical intuitive telling me everything I’d love to hear. Here’s what ‘she’ told me:

“I see that you are a strong, courageous soul, facing your worst fears, making a stand in this lifetime to heal and integrate all of your unloved parts. I see your passion to become whole. I also see that you’ve already done a lot of work on yourself, healing yourself in many ways, and, now there is this one area that needs your loving attention. You are right where you’re supposed to be. You are loving yourself whole, and you are doing a great job!”

It’s natural for us to want all our hard work to be seen, and to have our magnificent Soul Self recognized and acknowledged by others — and, I realize that it’s most important that I recognize and acknowledge that about myself. Therefore, I’ve decided to include in my daily scripting an appreciation for the magnificence of my Big Soul Self.

During the day, if there is pain, I now use it to alert me that I’ve contracted into the little, fearful, pain-in-the-butt me, which reminds me to breathe, relax and return to the awareness of my Magnificent Big Soul Self! The pain is like the Universe goosing me, saying, “Unclench, breathe, stay awake and remember who you really are. Remember that you are loved and watched over. Remember that you are eternal. Remember that you are safe no matter what.” When I’m in that place of remembrance, I breathe easy, I relax, and the pain lessens or completely disappears.

One of my favorite passages from Bartholomew’s book, I Come As a Brother, is about putting fear into perspective. He says, “It is as though you injured your little finger but the rest of your body is all right…Isolate the fear into your ‘finger’ and call on the whole ‘body’ to clarify it.” I’m seeing the cancer in the same way – I’m putting it into perspective. It is not who I am, it is not all of me, it is not bigger than me; it is just a little bitty baby burr under my saddle reminding me to WAKE UP!

At this time I don’t know if the remaining tumor is shrinking, growing, spreading or staying the same. I know that I feel good physically (except for the occasional pain in the butt, which has lessened considerably). I am recovering from the chemo and radiation and feeling more strength and vitality every day. I have been scripting for that and it is so. I’ve now made the scripting a habitual part of my day and it has made a big difference in my sense of wellbeing, happiness and health.

Fear has been a ‘pain in the butt’ for me in this lifetime. I am facing and embracing it and using it to remind me that we are so much more than our bodies — we are big, bright, beautiful, eternal souls here to learn and grow and remember that we are big, bright, beautiful, eternal souls.

What script would you write for your ideal day? If someone could see who you really are — all your brilliance, all your hard work — what words of acknowledgement would you love to hear them say? Say them to yourself! Script them into your day. Then ‘goose’ yourself to stay awake and keep remembering all day long how magnificent, courageous and valuable you truly are!

In Love,

Jan Jacobsen

P.S.

Here is my scripting for today:

Today I am feeling healthy, strong and full of joy and vitality. I eat vibrant foods that add to my health and energy. I feel comfortable and peaceful in my body. I am excited to send out my newsletter, seeing it go out to many people who are inspired and uplifted by it. I look forward to it reaching thousands of people, being of service, reminding others and myself of our true self, our magnificent, beautiful Big Soul Selves. I feel connected to all these people, to all the people in my life, feeling our oneness. I remember throughout the day that I am loved and guided and safe. I feel my partnership with Spirit. Today I rest in a state of grace, where everything I need comes to me easily. I feel happy and inspired and revitalized.

Tags: cancer, Deepak Chopra, fear, referred pain, Scripting

I recently watched a new TV show called “The Big C” about a reserved woman (played by wonderful actress Laura Linney) who suddenly learns she has terminal cancer.  She realizes that time is precious, and this sets her free to change her life, to assert herself and do things she’d been too afraid and uptight to do. In a restaurant she declares, “I’m just having desserts and liquor.”

I’ve been experiencing a similar freedom. The thought that death could possibly be just around the corner liberates me to live with a certain amount of abandon. As the song says, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” I am free to not sweat the small stuff, to do only what I want to do, to focus on raising my vibration and living in the state of grace that I love so much.

Even though a part of me wants to really let loose and eat gooey desserts and drink liquor like Laura Linney’s character, I know that would debilitate my health (cancer loves sugar!) and knock me out of the state of grace place. I’m motivated by the dream that I can heal myself, or at least prolong my life; so instead of eating desserts and drinking liquor, I am eating lots of anti-cancer foods and drinking an herbal tea (from my Chinese Medicine doctor) that looks and tastes like it was scraped from the forest floor. I hold my nose when I drink it, and as I drink I affirm to myself, “This is powerful, healing medicine.”

James Dean said, “Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die tomorrow.” I am dreaming and eating as if I’ll live forever and I am living and loving as if I’ll die tomorrow. I feast my eyes and soul on the beauty that surrounds me, the summer flowers, the Santa Barbara mountains and the beautiful people in my life. I don’t think I’d be enjoying such a feast if it weren’t for the cancer – or, as I am choosing to call it, “The burr under my saddle that woke me up.”

As friends from out of town stop by and visit with me, I know that it’s possible it may be the last time I see them. (That is true for all of us. Who knows what life will bring? It is so unpredictable.) Therefore, I really see and appreciate them and savor being in their presence and when we say goodbye to each other there is a depth and a sweetness to it.

I am valuing each moment. Whenever I think about death, I’m reminded that I am alive now. I am here now. Here and now is all there is. In this here and now I’m choosing to raise my vibration and let my light shine. At the end of the first episode of The Big C, the song that plays is, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.” That sums it all up perfectly. We are free at any time to fully allow our light to shine, and we don’t need life to turn on us in order to turn us on.

If you thought you might only have a short time to live, how would you let your light shine? What dream of yours would you be living? Do it now — “Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die tomorrow.”

In Love,

Jan Jacobsen

Tags: cancer, dream as if you'll live forever, freedom nothing left to lose, James Dean, Laura Linney, let your light shine, live as if you'll die tomorrow, the big C

I’ve been hanging out in a state of grace place. It’s the expanded energy field, the natural order of harmony and wholeness. It’s a place you go to when you pray, when you connect with your higher power and ask for divine intervention.

It is a transcendent place beyond mind, beyond reason, beyond physical, beyond what most doctors will tell you is possible. My doctor told me last week that though my tumor has been reduced in size, it will start growing again because that’s what tumors do — end of story. But in the state of grace place it’s not the end of the story. Miracles happen there. Healing happens there.

Dr. Leonard Laskow performed some fascinating experiments with cancer cells in petri dishes in which he held an intention as he focused on each dish. The intention that had the most success in stopping the growth of the cancer cells by 39% was when he affirmed and imagined, “The natural order is being reinstated and the cells growth is returning to normal.” I am motivated to focus on and cultivate that state of natural order and harmony, not only because I want to heal, but also because it feels good – it is a peaceful, magical place.

Being in a state of grace is being in the flow where synchronicity occurs, coincidences happen, just the right people, books, and events present themselves, and things work out better than I can imagine. It is the realm of unlimited possibilities — I also call it the Miracle-Prone Zone. I was recently stuck in the Moan and Groan Zone, feeling ravaged by the grueling chemo and radiation treatment. I realized that Cynny, my inner cynical one, was feeling burned out and pissy and she was holding me down. She was cynical about taking healthful actions — after all, she groused, they didn’t work before. But underneath the cynicism was a fear that if I tried and failed to heal myself I would be crushed in disappointment. I realized that I needed help.

As I cultivated the state of grace place, I was ‘led’ to a coach who has guided people for 20 years on conscious cancer journeys. My commitment to working with her helped get me back to a healing intention of eating healthy foods, taking supplements and, most important, shifting my attitude and letting myself believe that I could heal myself.

Next, in the flow of synchronicity, a friend sent me a link about antiangiogenesis foods that actually starve tumors, either causing them to shrink or halting further growth by eliminating their blood supply. I am now eating those foods abundantly with a new sense of hope and possibility. (See list at end of newsletter – great cancer preventative foods and also good for weight loss!)

This exciting grace place where anything is possible is where I want to live. However, though this place is becoming home base, I’m not always here. I take occasional forays to the rat race place where I’m scared, scrambling and frantic. The other day hundreds of ants had gathered in and around our cat’s food dish and I set about attacking the ants with the fervor of a mass murderer! It reminded me of the fear frenzy I sometimes feel towards the cancer. But when I notice I’m not breathing and my shoulders are hunched and my stomach is tight and it’s me against THEM, I take a deep breath and return to my home base state of grace, where natural order and peace are reinstated. (The ants have not returned).

Taking deep, slow breaths is one of the ways to enter a state of grace. Other ways are meditation, reading inspirational books, doing qigong, dancing, being with spiritual people, lying and aligning with my husband Tom as we breath together and reveal ourselves in the deep intimacy of ‘lying and truthing’, dropping into stillness and silence, being immersed in the present moment, walking in nature (a natural tuning fork for raising your vibration), and smiling (Starting My Internal Love Engine).

I am a gardener gardening my energy field, choosing to dwell in a state of grace. It’s the place to be. It feels like Home. From all that I’ve heard about death, it is the ultimate state of grace place. If I’m going Home soon, I’m getting a good taste of it (and for it) right now as I nestle into the welcoming embrace of grace. It’s possible that I may not be cured, but I will be healed and made whole. Of that I am certain.

What are ways you enter your state of grace place? I am wishing for all of you (and me) the magic and miracles that take place when we rest in the  loving embrace of grace.

In Love,

Jan Jacobsen

ANTIANGIOGENESIS FOODS

(THAT INHIBIT TUMOR GROWTH AND FAT GROWTH)

Green Tea

Strawberries

Blackberries

Raspberries

Blueberries

Oranges

Grapefruit

Lemons

Apples

Pineapple

Cherries

Red Grapes

Red Wine

Bok Choy

Kale

Soybeans

Ginseng

Maitake Mushroom

Licorice

Turmeric

Nutmeg

Artichokes

Lavender

Pumpkin

Sea Cucumber

Tuna

Parsley

Garlic

Tomato

Olive Oil

Grape seed Oil

Dark Chocolate

Pomegranate

Tags: antiangiogenesis foods, cancer, Dr. Leonard Laskow, intentional experiement with cancer cells, miracle-prone zone, natural order of harmony, state of grace, synchronicity

A good friend of mine recently returned home from a weekend trip with her husband and found that someone had broken into their house and stolen several pieces of expensive jewelry, including her wedding rings. At first she cried, but very quickly she shifted into acceptance and told me that I was the reason why. She said she thought about me and reasoned that she didn’t have cancer, and no one died — that put things into perspective for her. She learned the lesson from the experience and was able to let it go.

That is a great illustration that how we choose to think about things affects our sense of wellbeing. It inspired me to focus on what I’m grateful for on this cancer journey, and I’d like to share some of it with you in this update.

About two weeks ago I had a CT scan which showed that my tumor is responding to treatment. After four weeks, the 2” x 3” tumor shrunk to one fourth its original size. It’s gone from an egg to a grape. That is good news!

I am also grateful that for the last 2 weeks I haven’t had chemo because my blood counts have been low. I needed a break from the relentless nausea and I got it. I’m using this reprieve to eat better, exercise more, and fortify my body.

This treatment could have been far worse. I haven’t lost any hair! I haven’t had to take narcotics as they’d said I might — Ibuprofen is handling the pain and discomfort.

I’m grateful that I’m in the homestretch — there is just three more days of radiation treatment (and possibly one more chemo session, depending on my blood count). During these weeks of treatment, time has crawled like a snail. Now there is an end in sight. Yay!

Occasionally the fear comes up for me, what if this doesn’t work? The doctor said that if the tumor doesn’t completely disappear, it will grow back. When this fear appears, I’ve been doing the only thing I have control over — I’ve been training myself to come into the present. Throughout the day I say to myself, “Present moment, only moment.” It is a blessing to be strengthening my ability to be fully present in the moment. It’s a goal of mine in this lifetime, and feels like a huge accomplishment.

I am grateful for Tom who is taking such good care of me, and also himself and not letting himself become burned out. I am grateful for friends and family and the people who have been on this journey with me, giving me so much love and support. Thank you!

I feel blessed that my cancer experience is of service to some people, like my friend who put her loss into perspective and was able to let it go. People have told me that it has reminded them that life is precious and has inspired them to get more focused on what it is they’re here to do, and what it is they really want. I feel honored and grateful to be of service in this way.

I am counting my many blessings. I am Here and Now. I am happy to be alive. There’s always someone who has it worse off than us. My heart fills with compassion for them, and gratitude that I’m not them! It’s all relative.

How about you? Counted your blessings lately? They really are plentiful when we look for them.

In Love,
Jan Jacobsen

Tags: being of service, blessings, cancer, counting blessings, gratitude, it's all relative, present moment only moment

This morning I was in the waiting room of the Cottage Hospital Lab to get a blood test. In the next room I heard the frantic, pleading screams of a little girl named Emmy, “Noooo, noooo, nooooo!” The nurse was trying to draw her blood but Emmy was having none of it. She protested over and over again, screaming, crying, railing against her present reality, trying to outrun it, resist it, fight it.

Several of us who were in the waiting room witnessing this human drama gave each other knowing smiles. How many of us have had, or still have, a child inside of us screaming the same thing, “Noooooo! I don’t want this! Get me out of here!”

Her mother and the nurse were wrangling with her, telling her, “Emmy, just sit still, don’t be scared, it will be over soon.” I wanted to tell them, “Move toward the fear. Tell her you know how scared she is. Tell her it’s okay to be scared. Meet her where she is.”

I had a wonderful private phone counseling session yesterday with Mary-Margaret Moore, who channeled the Bartholomew books in the 80’s and 90’s, books that bring me more comfort and feelings of expansiveness than any other books I’ve ever read. With heartfelt compassion she counseled me to move toward my fears and pain and not resist them, to simply rest in them for a while, to just show up with whatever is happening, to stop efforting, stop trying to be elsewhere, even in a “higher” place, because, to paraphrase Bartholomew, “You are already there, and once you effort you have lost that place.”

In the session I got in touch with a painful belief that I have done something wrong; I’ve screwed up; I wasn’t relaxed enough to keep the cancer monster away. As much as I have felt empowered by the belief that my thoughts and feelings create my reality, there is a downside to that belief, a blaming and shaming of what I have manifested, what I have created. Mary-Margaret asked me to question that belief, is that true? Did I create it? Can I know that for sure?

The only thing I can know for sure is that cancer is here. Chemo and radiation are here. Nausea is here. I am here. When I stop questioning, resisting, and wanting it to be different, then I land on it — I show up, I come into harmony with this reality. Breathing and resting in what’s happening, no matter what it is, is the portal to the spacious NOW. Kicking and screaming and resisting, like little Emmy, is what creates most of the suffering, just as arguing with and resisting Emmy’s fear only compounded it.

When I come to that place of accepting my worst fears, when I stop resisting them and, instead, rest in them, I experience that it is not as bad as my mind had imagined. I used to think I would rather die than have persistent nausea. But when I rest in it and breathe with it, it’s not so bad. I am showing up with the throwing up. It’s not fun, but it’s not horrendous either. It just is. I feel a stillness as I surrender to it.

I am actually doing this cancer, chemo, radiation, nausea thing. I am doing it (and if I can do it, anyone can, though I hope you never have to). There is a beautiful song by Joan Jacobs that repeats two words melodically over and over again throughout the song, “I surrender, I surrender, I surrender.” I am singing that song.

When tear-streaked little Emmy finally came out of her torture chamber and walked by all of us compassionate witnesses in the waiting room, I wanted to reach out and hug her. Instead, I am hugging my own inner child who wants to resist reality, and I’m telling her, “I know this is scary. It’s okay to feel scared. I’m sorry this is happening. I love you.” She feels heard, she breathes, she starts to relax a bit, and to surrender. She shows up. And, to her surprise, she finds that it’s not as bad as her fear had made it up to be.

Is there a part of you that is in pain, a part of you that is kicking and screaming and resisting reality? I invite you to move towards what you’re feeling, meet yourself right where you are, and then give yourself a big hug. How brave we all are to be on this journey!

In Love,
Jan Jacobsen

Tags: Bartholomew, cancer, caner, chemo, Mary-Margaret Moore, moving towards the feeling, radiation, resistance, surrender to what is

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

Tags: angels, cancer, Charlotte Joko Beck, chemo sabe, chemo sobby, chemotherapy, Chogyan Trungpa Rinpoche, Pema Chodron

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

Tags: anxiety, cancer, chemo and radiation, coincidences, healing breath, Houdini, Jane Roberts, mind run amuck, miracle-prone, poor pitiful me, realm of miracles, Seth, spacious present, state of grace, time expands, unlimited possibilities

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

Tags: bouncing, cancer, dancing, Genie, healing program, shaking, shimmying

On Thursday I consulted with alternative Dr. Issel in Santa Barbara about my recurring uterine cancer. I told him that 3 months ago my gynecologist didn’t feel any mass inside me, and now I have a tumor bigger than a golf ball. He was alarmed that it had grown so large in such a short time and said I needed to do something immediately. Even though he favors an alternative approach, he said this is like a train and it needs to be stopped. He suggested that chemo and radiation might stop the train, at least temporarily. And then do the alternative. PANIC!

I’d been straddling the fence between alternative and conventional, but this pushed me over. Toxic poisoning be damned, I’ve got a train roaring up my butt! Tom got me an appointment the next day to get a PET CT scan (he found a relatively low-priced one in Ventura). That is the first step that needs to happen before we can proceed.

This week I also saw Pam Oslie, a trusted Santa Barbara psychic, and she told me she saw the little girl in me who was scared and unhappy with life and didn’t want to be here and wanted to go Home. I’m well aware of her, I have always had one foot out the door. As a child the world seemed an unfriendly place with a cold, critical mother and a distant father. Even though I am so happy now in my life with Tom, and despite all the work I’ve done on this, that part of me still exists.

Pam said I needed to convince little Janny that life is good now and we want to be here…or else little Janny is going to go Home and take me with her. She’s a powerful little thing! On my wall I put a picture of myself when I was two years old with my round baby face and wispy blonde hair. Next to it I put a picture of Tom when he was two. Little Tommy is looking over at little Janny with a twinkle in his eyes and a sweet smile on his face. Janny looks like she’s been crying, she looks mad, sad, and scared. I look at her and say, “Look who’s next to you. He’s really nice and fun. He really loves you a lot. He’s taking good care of you. He wants you to stay and be with him.”

Yesterday while driving with Tom to get the PET CT scan, Janny was nervous, terrified of clinics and hospitals, she would rather die than go to those scary, pain inflicting places. My big soul self takes little Janny by the hand — we are going through this together. In the waiting room I held her in my lap and kept talking to her. “I’m here with you, I’m taking good care of you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You can trust me. It’s okay to let yourself feel scared, or mad, or sad. I’m not afraid of your feelings. You can feel anything you want.”

The nurse who was performing the scan was nice, her name was Janet like mine, and her middle name was Lee also like mine. (Turns out that our fathers had a thing for actress Janet Leigh). As she was about to inject the material into a vein in my hand, Janny clenched in fear. I talked to her, “This is a nice lady, she’s here to help us.” Feeling a slight prick, “There, that wasn’t too bad, was it? We can do this.”

I imagine that the solution that is coursing through my body is friendly, is here to help me. I know that how I think and feel about something affects me more than the thing itself. If I imagine it as toxic and fear it, then that thought will make it more toxic. If I imagine it as healing and helpful, it will be received by my body in that way.

I was then led into a warm, small, dimly lit room and laid down on a comfortable cushy chair and told to relax for 45 minutes not moving as the potion moved through my body. I held little Janny in my lap, imagining that healing light was filling us and surrounding us. “This is nice, isn’t it? Peaceful.” This was a time to really talk to her. Thinking of sweet Tom in the waiting room I said, “Look who we’re with, a wonderful man. And we’re having so much fun with him and he loves us just the way we are. We’re learning so much together. We have fabulous friends, and live in a beautiful place. Life is really good now. We’ve found our way to a safe and happy place.”

As I’m lying there a fart escapes me, and little Janny clenches in a fear and shame reflex. What if the nurse comes in and smells it!? Hearing my mother say “Ish.” I learned to feel embarrassed and ashamed about this part of my body and have always been downtight (maybe the lack of chi and life force in that area has contributed to the problems I am now having). I say to Janny, “That was so good that you let that out! Good girl.” I smiled, imagining angels applauding. Little Janny started to relax on my lap, breathing softly, then farted again. The angels cheered and applauded wildly.

Janet Lee comes in and leads me to the CT scan where I lay down and with arms over my head I surrender and am slowly rolled into this box. I close my eyes, afraid of tight spaces, I’m in a bit of panic. I open my eyes and see the top is just inches away. It feels like a coffin. (Note to self: Cremation). Breathing slowly, I become my big soul self, holding this scared child, loving her, talking to her gently and sprinkling us with healing, shimmering white light. We actually relax and almost nod off in this enveloping box.

After a half hour, Janet Lee rolls me out and sends me on my way, telling me, “Don’t go near little children for the rest of the day, since you’re radioactive.” I smile to myself, walking out hand in hand with my little girl, glowing as I reconnect with my beloved Tom in the waiting room. This was a healing experience for me.

I meet with my oncologist on Wednesday and he will tell me the results of the scan. Has this spread to other parts of my body? I am scared. I don’t know if I’m going to do chemo or radiation or alternative treatment. I do know that I will be immersed in my big soul self, embracing and loving little Janny, loving my fear, loving this life, and letting in all the love that is coming my way. Thank you all for your love and support.

Is there a part of you that could use a hug right now? Breathe into your big soul self and embrace all your wounded little ones, as we love, hug, and heal ourselves into wholeness.

In Love,
Jan Jacobsen

Tags: adventures in cancer, alternative treatment, cancer, chemo, Dr. Issel, Pam Oslie, PET CT scan experience, radiation, uterine cancer

I just came face to face with a massive issue I’ve been avoiding, and I have my butt to thank for it.

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time messing around on the computer, watching TV, and eating. I recently did something I haven’t done since my diagnosis and removal of cancer a year ago. I have been faithfully avoiding sugar (it feeds cancer) and dairy, but the other day I walked to the Fresco bakery (voted best desserts in Santa Barbara) and I got a big slice of berry pie with homemade whipped cream. I was proud of myself for bringing it home and sharing half of it with my husband Tom. Two days later I went back and got another yummy dessert (a caramelized banana marzipan flakey pastry), but this time I didn’t share it with Tom. I didn’t even tell him about it. It was a sweet, secret treat that I hoarded and hid and ate all by myself.

Big fat red flag! There have been other red flags that something was up, or held down, something I didn’t want to face. A few weeks ago I had a severe ear infection and blockage in my left ear with pain radiating into my neck and face. I couldn’t hear out of that ear and I felt unbalanced. In addition, for several weeks my butt has been unrelentingly aching with painful hemorrhoids (the grapes of wrath!) So I asked myself, “Your ear aches and your rear aches, what’s up with that?”

I’m taking antibiotics for my ear and it’s better. But the pain in my butt is not going away. My rear aches everyday, like a tiger’s got ME by the tail. The persistent pain scares me, with the thought that cancer is always a possibility. I tried to reassure myself that everyone gets hemorrhoids (it’s said that’s why Napoleon rode side saddle!) But then a lady from the community garden told me she had hemorrhoids and it turned out to be anal cancer. Oh My God, my worst fear! I googled anal cancer and hemorrhoids and my fear mushroomed.

Fear has taken over. I am out of balance — I’ve lost touch with my spirit. In trying to avoid this fear by distracting myself with TV, food, and the computer, I have also separated myself from my spirit. I have been spirited away by the addictive distractions that fill my day.

My ear aches and rear aches are fear aches. I’ve been tightly clenched, trying to push fear away, avoid it, sit on it. But once again I am reminded that when I try to sit on my feelings, they bite me in the butt! And it’s very painful! I am now willing to come face to face with my ear, rear, and fear aches.

Laying in the spaciousness of Tom’s arms, I let go and I let myself go into the depths of my fear and sadness about cancer. Even though it was removed, I have a creeping fear that it will return. I face into the surprising awareness that a part of me would rather die than to go through more cancer, pain, hospitals, expense, needles, knives, blood, and fear!

I cried and released and unwound my pain, and then…I became aware of Tom holding me, and I felt the sweet space he was providing me, and I suddenly remembered how I used to cry and feel this deep despair years ago when I felt so alone in the world. Now here I was with Tom. My eyes opened wide, taking in this present moment where I was held and loved. I awakened to this wonderful moment and I smiled, happy to be alive, feeling my feelings fully, in the spaciousness of the here and now with this beautiful man.

I can see that my butt has been aching to communicate with me, trying to tell me, “Get off your butt. Take walks in nature. Reconnect with your spirit.” My hemorrhoids feel better when I’m moving, walking and breathing fully, and they hurt when I’m sitting around distracting myself with mindless, breathless activities.

I am hereby committing to reconnect with my spirit, to meditate, to walk in nature, to call my doctor, to face my fear, to breathe fully and recommit to life.

Later today Tom and I are going for a walk in nature. We’re going back to the Botanic Garden where I haven’t been since the Jesusita Fire ravaged it several months ago. I haven’t wanted to see it’s marred beauty — I didn’t want to face it. Today I am willing to face everything.

How about you — is there something you haven’t wanted to face? Have you been distracting yourself? Is the universe probing you with aches and pains and discomforts to wake you up? Nestle into the spacious embrace of the present moment and let it all hang out. You will feel so much better afterward.

In Love,

Jan Jacobsen

Tags: cancer, connect with spirit, earache, fear, hemorrhoids, present moment, walks in nature