It was like this

It Was Like This: You Were Happy

It was like this:
you were happy, then you were sad,
then happy again, then not.

It went on.
You were innocent or you were guilty.
Actions were taken, or not.

At times you spoke, at other times you were silent.
Mostly, it seems you were silent -- what could you say?

Now it is almost over.

Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.

It does this not in forgiveness --
between you, there is nothing to forgive --
but with the simple nod of a baker at the moment
he sees the bread is finished with transformation.

Eating, too, is now a thing only for others.

It doesn't matter what they will make of you
or your days: they will be wrong,
they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man,
all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.

Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,
you slept, you awakened.
Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.

~ Jane Hirshfield ~

I probably won't last the week

Sorry friends,

The end is coming much sooner than predicted. I won't horrify you with the graphic details; let's just say none of my plumbing is operational. I tried and tried to find a remedy that would allow me to make a farewell tour---even ordered t-shirts :-) All to no avail. I now have 24 hour nursing care which provides a nice break for Paula. I remain as committed as ever to helping Windhorse finish their building. So if you want to help write to aaliyah.haqq@stagen.com

Over the past decade, especially, it has been my honor to serve you in a spirit of mutuality. I learned lot.

I love you all,

Koso

Please feel free to call.

My cell phone number is 512-745-9222. If you would like a chance to say good-bye before I transition, please give me a call. If you get my voicemail, leave a message. I would like to spend as much time as possible in these remaining days communicating with my friends, colleagues and clients. I used to joke that I would die with my headset on. Who knows? Maybe that will come true. LoL

Koso

PS my new email address

koso923@verizon.net

PPS here's a pic of Millie the wonder-pup.

Uh-oh!

Four weeks ago I was doing splendidly. Walking two miles a day. Regaining physical strength. Planning to change the world with a cure for cancer.

We plan; God laughs. And God has sent me a real knee-slapper.

According to the physicians who have read my latest CT Scan, I have 4-6 weeks left to live. I'm currently at 75% renal failure. I have a mass in my intestines that is blocking normal functioning. I've gained 25 pounds of excess "water weight" that has caused my legs and ankles to swell. My hospice doctor predicts another Pulmonary Embolism in my future. Hah, hah, woo-hoo. That's a good one, God.

So how shall I spend my days?

I think I'll put together a schedule and follow it completely. Meditation and breakfast at Windhorse Zen Community, correspondence and phone calls, lunch with loved ones, watching our new puppy crawl all over Rocky the Dharma Dog. Napping in the cool mountain air. Holding and being held by Paula. Life is good. I vow to enjoy every last moment by being as fully present as possible.

I'm not in pain--thanks to the hospice program--they have the best drugs and nobody seems worried about me becoming addicted.

Paula and I are planning a trip to Pennsylvania and Dallas in the next couple of weeks. A kind of farewell tour. Soon as I have our itinerary, I'll let you know. Maybe we can say good-bye in person.

If you are wondering what you might do to participate in this last leg of my journey, I have a suggestion. I would like to raise $75,000 to help the Windhorse Zen Community finish constructing a building that will house a dozen monks. Completion of this building is essential to move the organization from scrambling to scaling. The Windhorse Sangha (community) has been exceptionally kind and welcoming to Paula and me. They helped us find the house we live in after first offering us room in the main house ---even though they knew I had a life threatening illness. A day doesn't go by that we don't feel loved and supported in so many ways large and small. I would like a part of my legacy to be helping this marvelous, mature and compassionate community achieve a new level of sustainability. I'll post more details in future blogs. Thank you all in advance for your generosity.

That's enough for tonight. Know that I'll sleep well tonight. That I'm not afraid. And that I love you all.

Koso

"We wuz robbed!"

I guess it has been a few months since I posted. Sorry. First let me assure all of you that I'm hanging in there. The move to Asheville NC has been a blessing. We are living about 6 miles up the road from my grandson, 20 minutes from my daughter and a half mile from Windhorse Zen Center. Attached is the view from our deck. We eat most of our meals there.

Last thursday afternoon we were the subject of brazen daylight break-in. The thief stole both my Mac computers, a sound system, and all my RX meds. In loss there is gain however, so I'm composing this on a sexy new iMac purchased with insurance money.

But, I was using one computer to back up the other, so I've lost my address book and need to recreate it. Could you all please send me your contact info. My new e-mail address is:

koso923@verizon.net

I'll try to do better about posting :-)

Thanks,

Koso

The regimen

A number of people have asked me about the regimen I'm following. Essentially it's this: High alkalai diet, vinegar and probiotics. So I eat a mix 80/20% alkalizing to acidifying foods. Basically the stuff that we all know is good for us. Fresh greens and raw or lightly steamed veggies--broccoli is especially alkalizing. Fruits in moderation because of the sugar content but interestingly some acidic fruits are actually alkalizing when digested. Lots of almonds and macadamia nuts but only those two. Small portions of white meat of chicken or turkey. Light white fish. No sugar. No yeast. No dairy. So no booze, or candy or leavened bread. Grain cereals are slightly acidifying so I eat the grasses like shredded wheat with raisins on top. Almond milk.

Twice a day I down 2 probiotic pills then 2 oz of Bragg's Organic Red Apple Cider Vinegar sweetened with stevia and diluted with 5 oz of water. It contains malic acid which is reputed to be the deadly enemy of cancer. I'm also taking 850 mg of malic acid each day as a supplement.

Supplements are a whole other story. I've been cramming to give myself an education and have the help of a new friend who owns a nutriceutical company. I'm learning about GSH and SOD and Old Amish dewormer. No kidding that's what it's called.

I'm told by my homeopathic homey that the only people who don't do well on this regimen are those who think they are healed and quit or those who can't stick to it. Today one of my colleagues at Stagen really made my day when he told me that he thought I had the self-discipline to stick to it. The fact is I feel great for long periods now. In fact, fair warning, I've taken to answering the casual "how are you?" with a cheery: "Great! Except for this terminal cancer thing."

I love you all,

Koso

Dead man walking???

Got the results of my scans on Thursday and the cancer is back. Three nodules in the intestines. My oncologist made it official. My cancer is now considered incurable. She gives me 4-6 months without treatment. 6-12 with chemo. You might think I'm depressed and anxious but I'm not. In fact my spirits remain strong. After meeting with the folks at MDA, I called Bill, my homeopathic consultant, who has a completely different script for me to follow. Bill's prediction is, that if I follow the regimen he's given me, within 4 months I'll see a reversal of the cancer growth and within another 4-5 months it will disappear. I already have one month completed. Bill tells me he has worked with over a hundred people in the last 17 years and every one of them has gotten healthy. All kinds of reasons for skepticism here. I get that. He could be a complete fraud. I don't think so and neither does Paula but the possibility exists. Either way though his script is a lot better than the one from MDA. His story has a happier ending :-)

So we are going to move to Asheville, NC to be close to family and to practice at the Wind Horse Zen Center. The next six months, I suppose, will write another chapter in this tale. Perhaps the last chapter, perhaps not. Either way is okay.

Meanwhile I'd like to share with you a quote from Zen teacher John Tarrant that I recently read on the Austin Zen Center discussion listserv. It struck me as particularly salient considering the certainty with which MDA predicts my imminent demise and the certainty with which Bill predicts my full recovery.

"Zen people talk about emptiness because when you awaken, the maps that hold your beliefs are suddenly gone. You also notice that new maps appear in the mind, even without encouragement from you. And as new maps appear, you can take them as provisional.

The Zen task is to open to the gates of the world beyond our prejudices. Like the Buddha, we can step away from everything we are certain about. I think this possibility is the best contribution we can make to healing the flaws in consciousness and helping the world. Unkindness comes out of certainty; when we throw out certainty, we have the bare reality of consciousness, and another name for that is love."

I love you all,

Koso

Three kisses for Opa

For the past three weeks Paula and I have been traveling. First to attend an ILP graduation in Dallas. Then weather finally permitting, to Asheville NC to visit my children and grandchild as well as to introduce ourselves to the teachers at the Wind Horse Zendo in Asheville.

In September when I saw my Grandson, Mac, he was a baby. Suddenly, at 20 months, he's become a little boy. It took only a few minutes for him to start calling me Opa. One evening as his bed time approached, his mom and dad invited him to say goodnight to the people in the room with a kiss. When it was my turn, he looked at me with a beaming face, said "Opa!" and toddled over as fast as he could to plant one on my cheek.

The room erupted with laughter, applause and the requisite "oohs." Mac then made his way back across the room where his parents stood waiting to take him to his crib. As his Dad reached down for him, Mac suddenly did an about face and ran back to kiss me on the cheek again. More laughter and approval encouraged Mac to do it a third time, giggling all the way as he managed to milk a few more minutes before having to go to bed.

Mac is my my first grandchild, and I have been exploring this new role of Opa. It is completely uncharted territory for me and I've been proceeding cautiously. Until now. Now Mac has shown me how to do it. Complete spontaneity in the moment. Let the trickster loose.

On the health front: I have scans this weds at MDA. Review them with my doctor on Thurs. I'll let you all know the results. Meanwhile each day of the trip I seemed to get a little stronger. But I was a little disappointed to discover that I still can't do a single regular push-up. However, Paula noticed that when I engage in Zen activities as I did at Wind Horse, it seems to lift my spirits and energy. The alkaline diet is going splendidly. I'm eating healthier than I ever have and have a new sense of well-being.

I love you all,

Koso

three

three

A perfect day

Thanks to all who were able to attend my ordination ceremony last saturday and thanks also to all those who sent me good wishes but were unable to attend. And a special thanks to my teachers and the staff and volunteers at AZC who planned and carried out the ceremony and reception. It was flawless.

I'm acutely aware that every day is a gift but Saturday was extraordinary. The zendo was packed with friends from both my sanghas (communities) Austin Zen Center and Stagen. Many people travelled great distances to attend. I could feel the love. The ceremony was beautiful, touching and joyous. At least that's how it looked from the inside out :-) Here's an address you can use to see pics. http://austinzencenter.org/images/gabless/index.html

On the health front

Paula and I have spent the last six weeks researching alternative treatments for cancer. We've found something that for me holds a lot of promise. The research started with the work of a Nobel prize winning German scientist who demonstrated that cancer can't live in an alkaline environment. I won't bore you with the details of all the chemistry involved. This led us to research on the effects of the body's ph balance on treating cancer. And in turn to creating an alkali diet the results of which I test daily with ph strips. The diet consists of a mix of 80/20 alkaline or alkalizing foods to acidic foods. For the past three weeks I've tested alkaline. And I feel great.

Last night I talked with my pharmacist's brother who was given a cancer related death sentence by doctors 17 years ago. He found an oncologist/homeopath in California (where else?) who suggested this diet and it totally cured his cancer. Since then he has served as a resource for people seeking alternative therapies. He regaled me with a number of success stories he has collected over the years and added some very helpful suggestions to fine-tune what I'm already doing.

Right now I'm feeling stronger and more confident than I have in months.

I love you all,

Koso Ju Gien (my dharma name. Koso for short)

Facing the brutal facts

The following is a post made to a list of my colleagues at Stagen. So if you have already read it just be reminded of the invitation to my ordination this saturday and I promise more frequent posts now that some of my strength is returning.

I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written, but I have some pretty bad news and I wanted to wait until after the holidays to tell you about it. On October 26 I had an operation to remove my bladder and build a new one using a piece of my bowel. It was a long, difficult, 9-1/2 hour procedure that required ten days at MD Anderson Cancer Center for recovery before I could be sent home.

The good news is that the operation was a success and during the two weeks following the surgery I seemed to be getting stronger and was feeling much better. The bad news is that suddenly, I got hit with a pulmonary embolism (PE). Blood clots in my legs broke lose, migrated to my lungs and left me unable to take even a single step without gasping for air. I was rushed by ambulance to South Austin Hospital, where I spent a week on blood thinners, just getting stabilized after this life threatening condition.

From there I was transferred to St. David’s Rehab Hospital, where the skill and determination of the doctors, nurses, Occupational and Physical Therapists (OT’s and PT’s) brought about a significant improvement in my condition. I was once again able to walk short distances with the help of my trusty walking stick. My appetite returned and I readied myself for a trip back to MD Anderson for what I thought would be additional chemotherapy.

Unfortunately, as I learned when I talked to my oncologist, my pathology report following the operation indicated a poor prognosis. Microscopic cancer cells where found in 37 of the 60 lymph nodes they removed. To make matters worse, the PE disqualified me from the clinical trial that I was enrolled in for a drug called Avastin, One of Avastin’s known side effects is that it can cause circulatory problems. My physician, citing her oath to do no harm, said she could no longer treat me with Avastin for fear of killing me. With that, my active treatment at MD Anderson ended.

The good news is that my first set of CT’s found no evidence of additional cancers, which both my oncologist and surgeon found somewhat surprising and encouraging. I am also looking into some alternative medical treatments. The bad news is that there’s a 90% chance the cancers will return and if they do, it is likely they will take my life.

I am now scheduled to return every eight weeks for scans to determine whether or not additional cancers have formed. Those are the brutal facts.

Hello. Goodbye.

Paula and I just returned from a wonderful trip back to our hometowns in Pennsylvania to see friends and family during the holiday season. One of the friends we visited, Susan Herrick, was unaware of the severity of my condition and when I described it to her, she got teary. She came around to where I was sitting, took my hand in hers, and said, “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

I replied, “I’m not here to say goodbye. I’m just here to say hello.” And then something inspired me to sing, “I don’t know why you say goodbye. I say hello. Hello. Hello.”

It broke Susan’s mood. She jumped up, went to the piano and started picking out the tune. I am writing to you not to say goodbye but to say hello and to thank all of you for the wonderful love and support, the caring, the prayers, the cards, the calls, the e-mails and text messages. They kept me going through some very dark times.

I am actually feeling OK right now. I had a recent conversation with my dear friend Cindy Wigglesworth, in which she asked me how I was feeling. I paused and reflected, searching for the answer. Finally, I told her, “I’m not afraid and I’m not depressed. What I am, mostly, is curious. How will this amazing story work out?”

I am also finding that with my somewhat frail condition, it is actually easier to stay focused on what’s right in front of me, to just eat my fruit, read cards from my friends, and enjoy time with Paula. I will try to do a better job of keeping you updated with what’s going on with me.

You Are Invited to My Ordination, Saturday, January 16, at the Austin Zen Center

The big news right now is that on Saturday, January 16, at 2:30 p.m., I will be ordained as a priest in the San Francisco Zen Center Lineage of Suzuki Roshi. It is the culmination of 18 years of disciplined Zen practice and study. You are all invited to attend the ceremony and reception held at the Austin Zen Center, 3014 Washington Square, Austin, TX 78705-2218. Please stop by and say hello. Hello. Hello.

--

Big Mind. Big Heart. Big Body.

For several years now I've admired the work of Genpo Roshi. The way I see it, his Big Mind exercise is an elegant mash-up of voice dialogue therapy, basic meditation technique and Tozan's Five Ranks of Consciousness. In a few short intense hours Genpo and those trained in Big Mind can lead a group of people inexorably to a Kensho--a brief enlightenment experience-- a sense of unity with the Absolute. Big Mind. And along with it Big Heart. I've done the exercise three times and each time it's been a lovely expansive experience. I have noticed however that, to me, there was a "body part" missing from the experience. Afterward, upon reflection, Big Mind seemed somewhat cerebral, not really anchored in the body nor available in a somatic way.

All that changed last night.

As I was falling asleep last night I felt an enormous sense of gratitude for being given the gift of life for another day. At the same time I felt some fear around my projection that my gift of life may be foreshortened. I reached for Paula and my hand found hers under the covers. My fingertips came to rest on her wrist. Very quickly I noticed that our pulses were in perfect rhythm. In a moment the beating of our hearts became the beating of the pulse of the whole universe. Our bodies were merged not just with each other but with the total energy of the absolute. My small besieged relative body fell away and I became, I identified with, the vast spaceless, timeless blissful body of Buddha--awakening. Big Mind. Big Heart. Big Body.

Buddhism has some esoteric teachings about my experience. Specifically the ones pertaining to sambhogakaya and I find these moderately useful. What was far more helpful about the experience was the end of the fear. The realization that my true body was never born and will therefore never die. My relative body will eventually pass away as do all manifestations of reality. But this Life lives on forever.

Medical update. I'm finally feeling really good. Energy levels are about 80%. Got out and walked briskly for a couple miles this morning. Less than three weeks to the surgery. Then 6 weeks recovery. Then ordination. Then watching carefully every month to see if I'm going to beat this thing. Thank you all for your kind comments, your prayers and support.

I love you all,

phil

The Threads That Connect Us

Sorry its been a while since my last post. But I've gotten through my fourth and final round of chemo and I have until October 26th to recover. That's the day of my surgery. Along the way, I've found out that I don't have cancer in growing my bones and the most recent biopsy showed no lymphatic invasion. But I still have the microscopic cancer cells that are probably circulating in my system to worry about. Hopefully the chemo got 'em. On top of that relatively good news, I got some really good news.

I have a date set for my ordination as a Zen priest. December 12th at AZC in Austin. This is the culmination of 18 years of steady practice and working with a teacher. Prior to the date being set I was told to start sewing my priests robes. (actually I restarted for the third time in ten years :-)

This is an enormously complicated project. A piece of black cloth about the size of a bed sheet is measured and cut into 21 pieces. Those pieces are then pinned and sewn back together in a quilt like pattern requiring thousands of hand stitches--each put in with a chant. The success of each stitch is measured in millimeters. Stitches that don't meet the sewing teacher's approval are taken out and re-sewn. The robe is called an Okesa. To put this in perspective, my sewing teacher and I worked three hours this afternoon squaring the okesa and pinning the short side borders. Normally we allow a year for this whole project to be completed. In addition to the Okesa there is the Zagu a bowing cloth that while not large is very complicated to sew. Then there is the Rakasu a recreation of the Okesa scaled down to about 10"x12" and worn around the neck. Finally, the envelopes for each of these need to be cut and sewn.

When I began this project the Tempter of Delusion Mara came to me and told me I would become the next great Zen sewing artisan. That I would go from a guy who could barely thread a needle to a priest with full expertise in this arcane craft. Then the Buddha came along and gifted me with this cancer. (This too is for my benefit :-) and everything changed. Suddenly I my hands shook too badly, my body needed more and more rest, sewing time was replaced with hours and hours of infusions and trips to MDA. Most importantly I had to learn how to go from "the strong one" the "one who is there for others" to the vulnerable one. The one who needs help, who needs to be held and to accept compassion.

So along with the cancer, the Buddha also sent me Sangha--the Zen communities with whom I have practiced. One of our previous sewing teachers undertook to sew the Zagu. My wife Paula picked up the needle and began putting in lines. My current teacher allows me spend as much time watching and learning as actually sewing and pinning. My former teacher Dai En Bennage from Mount Equity in Pennsylvania and her group undertook the Rakasu---sewing it with thread left over from one of DaiEn's robes. So the threads that connect us became not just metaphorical but actual. The whole project will be done ahead of time.

I guess I'm just really sensitive right now but I well up every time I think of how all these people some of whom I haven't seen in almost a decade rallied to support me. And I reflect on how being "the strong one" is really just another defense put up by my ego. A defense that was long overdue to be torn down. I'm discovering the joy in vulnerability. The peace that comes with surrender. Reminds me of a sign in the AZC kitchen: "Barn's burnt down. Now I can see the moon."

"I love you." "I know."

I remember the times in my youthful romantic relationships, the ones full of limerence and lust, when I would wait for the right moment to look at her to say "I love you" for the first time. Then wait anxiously for the response I so longed to hear: "I love you, too." I remember the devastating feeling that washed over me when the response was: "I know." I had hung all my feelings, hopes and dreams out there only to be crushed by a polite acknowledgment that committed to nothing.

I remember the times in my middle years in my long term covenanted relationships, the ones sometimes frayed, and bruised and threatening to come undone, when I would look at her and and say "I love you." and then anxiously await the accustomed response, the one we had practiced for years: "I love you too." I remember the sadness and sense of loss when the response was: "I know." I had made a peace offering, given a reminder of our history together and my hopes for our future, only to be rebuffed by a vague expression that committed nothing.

Over the past six weeks as Paula and I have plunged headlong into this medical nightmare, there have been many occasions when we have comforted one another with our habituated somewhat casual responses: "I love you. I love you too." But there have also been times when "I love you." has been met with "I know." Only now, in my mature years and probably more mature love, "I know" has taken on a whole new and profound meaning. It is an affirmation of commitment, a recognition of 15 beautiful years plus six weeks of hell, spent serving each other without asking anything in return. "I know." means I've somehow succeeded in cherishing and supporting another in the way they want to be loved.

I've been signing these blogs with "I love you all." Tonight, I want to say to all of you who have verbally and implicitly expressed your love and support for me---tonight I want to say:

"I know."

Intimacy

I'm writing this post in order to clarify something that has been a bit vague and unintegrated for me. So please don't take this as me teaching anyone but myself.

"First there is a mountain, then no mountain, then there is." I am coming to understand this old zen saying as a description of three stages of intimacy. Three stages that give rise to three levels or perhaps states of a decreasing sense of separation between our felt sense of "self" and our felt sense of "other."

This observation arose for me during my stay this week for the second round of chemo at MDA. My infusions began at 10:30 pm. The night nurse who greeted me seemed perhaps not as experienced or confident as the other nurses who have tended to me. She got a bit defensive when I reminded her to write the schedule of my doses on the schedule board. She got more irritated when I pointed out that I believed she had scheduled the anti-nausea medicine too early. Instead of checking, she went ahead with what she thought was right. We saw each other as "other." We divided the our worlds into two. Nurse and patient. The one in charge. The one not in charge. Me here. Mountain there.

15 hours later it was time to take a four hour dose of Cisblatine--the chemo that is primarily responsible for causing severe nausea. By now the anti-nausea dose I had been given had worn off and I was faced with the prospect of receiving only post infusion remedies for sickness instead of prophylactically addressing the issue. I explained my problem to my new nurse and her first response was "I'm sorry. You're right, we should have waited until now. But we can't really re-administer the medicine." In that moment as our eyes met and she saw the anxiety and fear in my face, something softened. Some line between us blurred. "Well, she said, "I suppose we could give you one of the two you were supposed to receive because it will be out of your system by now." Call it empathy, call it nurturing, I call it intimacy. She really understood, could put herself in my place. We were not mountains opposing each other. Those mountains were gone for the time and in their place was a state experience of not being separate.

Which leads me to the third stage of intimacy where mountains are mountains again, but not seen in the same way. I have experienced this stage as repeated states of non-dual consciousness. Shikantaza, my meditation practice, has afforded me sometimes prolonged glimpses of a greater Unity. Of "things as they is" as Suzuki Roshi is reported to have said.

In this state/stage body and mind drop away completely. Life is just life without anything added. No stories are necessary. Genpo Roshi calls this "Big Mind/Big Heart." Recently I've experienced it another way as "being the Light" This stage transcends and includes the previous two. So Mountains are Mountains again--I am aware of the sense of separation and yet I know simultaneously at another level that there are no boundaries save the ones my mind creates. In this way compassion arises. I am able to feel compassion for all who do not have life threatening cancer because I can see clearly that we are all in free fall. I can have compassion for the cancer itself which is not separate from me.

My learning from this is two-fold: First we can and do occupy all three state/stages everyday to one degree or another. They are in a sense not really separate either. That's an abstract learning. The more practical learning is that these three stages correspond roughly to certain dynamics of interpersonal relationships.

For example: Sympathy/Empathy/Compassion.

Also: "I treat you the way you the way I think is right" vs. "I treat you the way I would want to be treated." vs "I treat you the way you want to be treated."

The subject matter is explored thoroughly in the book Paula and I are publishing: The Source: A Journal of Mindful Relationship. (First drafts available upon request)

I love you all,

phil

Confidence

Getting ready for round 2 of the chemo. (Cue the ring card girl :-) I tolerated the first round quite well. I feel great. Energized, focused and upbeat. Met with Dr Siefker today. Came away feeling really confident. I got a clear sense from her manner and forthrightness that she expects to win. She has a real presence, a directness and concentrated attention that I really appreciate. I even invited her to check out my "woo-woo" posts and she said that research shows that people with community support, family support, faith, and a positive attitude tend to have better outcomes. I think her jury is still out on healing vision while in a deep meditative state :-)

In any event, those experiences of "being Light" continue. Some have become quite animated. I'm resisting making too much meaning of it all. Just grateful that when it happens I come away refreshed, renewed and in high spirits.

Today, I got to meet with the team from work by teleconference. I got to feel the kind of caring and support that Dr Siefker spoke of. Thank so much!

I love you all,

The light of peace

Fair warning:

For those of you who have an allergic reaction to anything you might deem "woo-woo" or "New Age" I suggest that you skip this post. And, to be candid, if I hadn't personally experienced what I did this morning, and I were a follower of this blog instead of its originator, I fully expect I would be heeding this preamble myself and finding something far more valuable to do with my time--like cleaning the fish tanks. Yet, when I undertook to begin these entries, I vowed that I would report honestly and directly what I was experiencing and then offer some reflection.

So here goes:

This morning, about 10:15, a business meeting I was expecting to attend didn't happen, and I felt a need to go rest. I went to our room and lay down, gently closing my eyes but not sleeping. Within a few moments I experienced what I can only describe as a kind of healing light energy flowing not so much over me or around me or through me but as me. I had no sense of my "self" being separate from this light energy, or that it was "working on me." I did not feel bathed in it, warmed by it or infused with it. The experience was more like I was the light. Eyes open or eyes closed, everything appeared bright and exceptionally clear. Visual contrasts were sharp but not unpleasant. As if all of a sudden, I had perfect vision--even with my glasses off.

More remarkable than the physical manifestations of this experience though were the sentient ones. I felt completely at ease, comfortable, safe, non-anxious--neither "grounded" nor "floating" but just fully, fully present. I felt at peace. I felt not so much loved as love itself. I remained in this state for an hour and a half. When I arose to attend my next meeting, there was no reluctance. It was simply time to move. As I stood up, I felt a knowing in my body that my healing has begun.

It is now over nine hours later. I haven't slowed down or needed to rest since. I've had two extensive client meetings, driven 30 miles or so, had dinner with friends and I'm still going strong. I am not experiencing nausea--my appetite is robust. I'm not feeling tired---I feel really really energized. I don't feel sick at all. I feel very,very healthy. I feel Alive.

Like all states the experience this morning is temporary. I may very well feel terrible tomorrow. But I don't expect to. However, I now have a clear sense that while the sense of health I currently feel may come and go, rise and fall, the Reality underlying my experience is constant, infinite, vast and lacking nothing.

As I re-read what I've just written, I expect that many are wondering what on earth I am reporting. I agree. It defies rationale, explanation. Invites skepticism. And some small part of me stands right there with the skeptics saying "Yeah right." And yet my experience was real. The aftermath fully observable by friends, family and clients.

For now, I'm going to say that I experienced something like "Big MInd/Big Heart" but in a very expanded, profound way. Whatever it was, its enough.

And it's now available to me.

I love you all,

Gassho

In Zen practice, we have a way of placing our hands in a prayerful position called "gassho" and then bowing from the waist. This gesture is used primarily to show gratitude or respect but is rather ubiquitous and can also mean anything from "pardon me" to "pass the salt." During silent retreats we gassho to one another as a means of greeting.

I've just received my first round of fours rounds of chemo and among the post infusion instructions I've received are to avoid handshakes and hugs as my T-cells will be low and I'll be very susceptible to infection. No problem! You all can just expect to see me "gassho" when we meet. I kind of like that idea. Mainstreaming "gassho" could change our whole society (lol)

My first gassho (bow of gratitude) today is for everyone at MD Anderson who worked so flawlessly to help me and Paula get through this first round of chemo.

I had 31 continuous hours of chemicals administered into a blood source near my heart through a "pick line" a catheter that starts near my elbow and follows a vein into my chest. The pick line will be with me for the duration of the chemo. I am Borg. Resistance is futile.

The chemo ended at 4 pm Thursday. We stayed over with Cindy Wigglesworth (God bless you Cindy!) and I drove home Friday. Yes, I drove. I'm feeling fine so far. Spirits are still high. And something has shifted. I've got a brave new confident attitude about this thing. I used to wake up 3-4 times a night in a sweat with the thoughts of premature death. Paula would hold me until they passed. Last night she got an uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep. I woke up 3 times but each time my thoughts were powerful and positive. I'm going to beat this thing.

I've scheduled calls with all my clients for next week and am really looking forward to getting back to what fills my life with so much purpose and meaning.

Bring it on Life! Let me see what you got.

Love you all,

phil