*This is a guest post written by my longtime friend Kimberley Eland.
The truth about being truthful and the power to carry it out.
I love to write. Period. I love stationery and paper, pens and markers. I love the smell of bounded journals and books and the weight of them. I love the way letters, fonts and words fit together like pieces of a puzzle on a board. For a very long time, I’ve wanted to write. A poem, a song or just something of meaning, I’ve wanted to leave “a mark” as they say.
I also love photography and art. I love how the light can play tricks on the eye and I love how it changes over the course of an hour, a day, a season. I love that in the summer, the colour green abounds. In the winter, I love how the light can reflect off of the snow and create prisms of colour that sparkle like diamonds. I love how the sky can change from gray to purple to blue to white and back again in minutes. I especially love it when I catch the moment and can capture it in a photograph or a drawing. When I do this, I feel like I’ve caught a wrinkle in time! Sometimes, when I need inspiration, I can go back to that wrinkle, even if it doesn’t exist in real time and come back to the start. Begin again if you will. Once again, leaving a trace or a mark as if to appease my huge ego by fanciful ideas of greatness.
So why haven’t I done anything about this? Why haven’t I just sat down and considered doing something? I’ve taken notes, jotted a few lines here and there. I’ve even penned out a couple of rudimentary poems but never considered them “good” enough to share or to learn by heart. Why is that? Why do I procrastinate?
Fear made me frozen and I was knee deep in denial and blame.
On November 30th, 2017 I received a diagnosis: “You have a tumour in your right eye and it is cancerous”. All the time I thought I was doing everything right, what I ate, how I exercised, my sleep patterns were regular, I had a house, a family a good job, good friends…. all of this came to a halt in one afternoon at a hospital in Montreal. To clarify, these things didn’t actually stop existing, they simply stopped being “a part of my life as I knew it” and had to become “a part of my life with a life-threatening diagnosis”.
When I found out that there was something in my eye, doom and gloom moved in and created a frenzy inside. It sat with me, it sang me to sleep, it woke me in the middle of the night and it haunted my waking hours. I am ashamed to admit that I told myself that I “had it coming”. Why would a person do this to themselves? I figured that because I wasn’t satisfied with my life, thinking that I never had enough time to do the things I truly wanted to do, like write or paint or play music or take great pictures then I deserved the wake-up call that the Universe was offering me. Here’s the strange part, compassion came to visit and it was telling me I was sleeping through my life, just coasting at a speed that was fast enough to get from A to B but slow enough to not upset my apple cart. Looking back to the time before my diagnosis, I realize that I was headed for a crash, even though I was following traffic and obeying the rules, I did not realize that by making excuses and blaming others for my lack time was the equivalent of driving in the middle of the autoroute all the while going in the wrong direction. A crash was imminent, it seems obvious to me now, I wasn’t going to listen to any other way. My self-loathing and lack of self-compassion attracted an event that was the necessary evil to make me STOP and look at my life from an entirely new perspective.
I had to welcome the demon and acknowledge its presence before I could focus on my truth.
I have been fortunate enough to allow for my demons. I have been a self-loathing person faced with the reality that I too am worthy of love. This brought me to my knees. I was overwhelmed and caught off guard by the influx of love and support I was receiving. Someone said to me: “You have been there for your family, your husband, your children, your friends. You gave them your hand when they needed it, now it is your turn to accept the hand they offer you. You deserve it”. I had never really taken stock of it, yet it is now my understanding that without love, hope and faith are impossible dreams. I have it all it doesn’t have to be impossible. Why can’t I write? Why can’t I sing? Why can’t I take photos and enjoy the light? I can. I will. I am. The truth is that I was blaming my lack of motivation on fatigue and too much time spent at work. What I am now noticing is that I was miserable at work because I was telling myself that it is what I have to do in order to eventually have time to do all the other stuff. That is just a boatload of crazy. I do not need to work 40 hours in 4 days to have a day off just so that I can get the house cleaned up and the laundry caught up. I can figure this out. The truth is that I have to actually DO something about it for it to work. I know I have discipline, I just need to refocus and direct it in the other direction. I also have to embrace the reality of failure and that it doesn’t need to define me. Just like cancer, you can get a diagnosis and it is very real, but it doesn’t have to define you.
If I practice being more true and authentic, I can acknowledge that I needed to make a change and that I’ve been out of alignment for years. I’ve failed at jobs and tasks that I was asked to do. It doesn’t have to define me unless I allow it. I can let go and allow my prognosis to be different. Just. Like. Me. The demon inside my heart showed its ugly head, its shame, its truth and I captured it in a photograph, in a wrinkle. It’s not as malignant as I thought it was. It’s unique and kind of beautiful and it deserves recognition. I know in my heart that I will have to practice my truth every day. Authenticity cannot be mastered. There are no diplomas. I will never graduate. But I will live my life as it is meant to be. Not by telling myself to push through and bear it but rather to lean in and allow it to take me where I need to go. On many occasions I have asked the question: “ What should I do?” and the answer has come from many different teachers: “The answer is in you.” OK. I heard. Now, I’m listening. I’m afraid because I’m human. I’ve been numb because I’m human. I have not been practicing for long. I know that fear of failure and disappointment has kept me frozen for a long time. I want to live this life, my life within the collective universe. I am choosing to get off the autoroute that goes smooth and fast and take the back roads. It isn’t an easy route. But it can be simple. I just have to practice more at being OK with it. Another friend once sent me a photo with the caption: “Climbing mountains is hard work, but my legs are so very strong because of my willingness to ascent”, or at least that is the message that I understood in the caption. My legs are strong. My heart is full. There will be darkness but there will be light. Life it seems is a paradox and I’m willing to be one too. One day at a time.