Day two:  I am craving that cup of fresh-ground brown.  And although I would like to give the stuff up completely I think I'm going to go the decaf route.  Perhaps it's more of a behavioral thing, I don't know.  Walking to Wawa to retrieve it is more of a ritual that breaks up my day.  I could always buy something else.  OR I could just collapse completely and get a high octane latte at the little place around the corner. 

And then I'd feel like shit.

And then I would get on with it.
 

Sometimes we forget to get off the ride once it crashes.

I had the unpleasant experience of being told last week by a close friend that his mother had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. It seems that these things don't happen in a slow, progressive way anymore, as in her unfortunate case it is stage IV. In the staging scheme of things a stage IV cancer has often metastasized, or spread to other organs or throughout the body. There wasn't much I could do or say to him, other than feel shock. As he told me what little he knew at that point I was also overtaken with a sense of grief... for him, for his family, for her. Our friends are our 'families that we choose,' and in the case of this friend I definitely felt the shock of his news.

I suppose I have been very lucky to not have serious illness crop up in my immediate or extended family very much. With the exception of my sister-in-law Annie, who died of liver cancer last year, we rarely see it. Perhaps that's contributing to my feelings. Why did this happen to this woman? This woman who it seemed had lived a very rewarding life... one that was headed for a very rewarding retirement, surrounded by a very loving family of children and grandchildren, friends and family? Why to some and not others? That indeed is the nature of illness... and life.

While we were chatting my friend mentioned he hadn't told many others about what was going on. He didn't feel it necessary and he just didn't want to deal with all the questions and conversations he would have to face. True, in the same position I'd probably feel the same way... maybe. Then again, my family talks about everything. Everything is open for discussion, for better or worse. “It helps to have support,” was all I told him.

He sent me more information today about his mother's condition. I was actually surprised at the amount he was willing to share. But I was also honored that he did so. Perhaps he took my advice? I'm just glad that I can be here for him if he needs anything. You can't push it, and you can't dictate how you help... perhaps that's the truest form of compassion.  

"Making room for it, " he explained, "involves keeping space open in your awareness allowing yourself to experience the good things that come your way each day, whether they be big or small. And in the process you balance out all the negativity you might feel with an equal or greater amount of positivity." It hit me like a ton of bricks. How could I have never, EVER looked at it that way before? The concept, I'm sure, was explained on Sesame Street, or at least Mr. Rogers a thousand times during my formative years... or was it? The discussion group moved on in topic as I sat there stewing in my WTF epiphany. Just as I hadn't made any room for anything but crisis and emergency preparedness, I hadn't made any room for this extremely simple concept. "Duh, Chris... nice one!"

I've been confronted lately with numerous situations that have illustrated to me my propensity to only see the negative, the dramatic, or the worst case scenario. And while as my mother used to say, "people will screw you, just watch your back..." living my life paranoid and skeptical does take a toll.

So, I'm making room, for the good things, the little things, the beautiful things, the funny things... I've had enough of everything else crowding me out.