A little prose goes a long way

I think that there is the great misconception of burning man as a giant drug induced orgy. I mean, don’t get wrong there is a presence of both at the burn, but as you read this someone in your hometown is getting high or getting fucked; neither of which is a bad thing. The party aspect of burning man is one of the elements, but alone it could not stand. On my first post talking about the enigmatic shift I have been feeling since the burn, I talk about how the most amazing thing for me was the people.

Burn Baby Burn

So I have been riding high ever since getting back from Burning Man last week; there is some air in my step, wisdom in my words and confidence in my energy. I like this feeling; I like this feeling a lot. I am trying to not be annoying and to diversify the conversation on topics more than the Burn, but when an event turns you inside out it’s hard to not reflect on the process, and in this case, shine in the glow.

It’s My Hair, It’s My Hair

I find myself feeling foolish this morning; instead of realizing all the beautiful memories I was making with people, I was focusing on all the things I wasn’t doing. Instead of taking a step back and allowing the unconditional love that has been sent my way to seep in, I was focusing much on all the things I have been becoming incapable of. I was forgetting that the contents of the glass are so amazing, whether its half full or empty can only fall secondary.

Yes, I am vain.

I am starting to become more aware. Part of being aware is looking at your fears dead on and becoming one with them. It’s not about facing or conquering the fear, it’s about getting comfortable with it so that it no longer holds it power. Words on this scale cannot measure to the practicality of one doing it. Our fears range on an unending scale, so they can not be measured or compared, but instead we should take small steps to meet them.

I’ll Never Forget

When something life altering happens there’s always a clear line drawn in ones emotional journey – before the event and after the event. Whether we made the decision, or destiny thrust the change onto us, the clear moment of distinction stands out in a sprawling conjecture of our history as one of the instances that shaped our lives. 

Hump Day

Day three of chemo: the definition of a hump day.

Chemotherapy is cumulative, so the longer it goes on the worse the side effects I will be feeling. I find myself struggling with the symptoms of the cure, fairly early on, more so than my 26 year old counterpart who I am sharing in this experience with. I was sitting there on Monday waiting for the staff member to call my name, all the being while too engrossed with my cell phone, I heard some one announce their name. Looking up, I see two men, obviously a son and father. The receptionist asks for the date of birth, then I heard the younger man speak up “1989.”  I know we are basically the same age, but something in me broke when I saw that someone young was about to enter the same war I was about to.