Pink October (1): Cultivating True Joy for Living Well

Welcome Pink October, and all it stirs up for breast cancer survivors.

I’m incredibly fortunate to be more than a decade out from treatment, and cancer free.

Physically, that was hard won.

Emotionally, it’s been even harder.

Diagnosis and treatment at 41 brought up the childhood trauma of losing my mother to cancer when she was the same age (I was 11).

More than a decade out from my own diagnosis and treatment, and with much support, I’ve transformed those emotional wounds to the point where they don’t overwhelm. Or, more accurately, when they do arise, quite overwhelmingly, I experience more than the pain and suffering of grief and fear. I also experience peace. And compassion. And even joy.

Whether you’re a cancer survivor or not, chances are that the tools that have helped me transform trauma can help you, too.

Tool #1: cultivating true joy for living well

For those who are not familiar, these five Buddhist teachings on impermanence may seem the opposite of tools for cultivating true joy for living well, but in fact, they are exactly that:

We are of the nature to age. There is no escaping aging.

We are of the nature to have ill health. There is no escaping ill health.

We are of the nature to die. There is no escaping death.

We will be separated from everyone and everything that we love. There is no escaping being separated.

Our words and actions are our only possessions. What we say and do continues us into the future.

The power of these teachings is their truth. When we study these teachings on aging, ill health, death, and separation, we can arrive at a deep knowing about our mortality, how we want to live, and even, perhaps most beautifully, how we want to die peacefully.

A Closer Look

If we’re meant to study these teachings in order, I admit that I might have jumped and bypassed a bit.

Please give yourself a second pass at reading all five, without rushing at all, and notice what happens in your body in response to reach one.

When we choose to spend some time with these teachings, there’s no need to rush through them. Nor is there a need to tackle all of them at once.

My biggest reaction, for many years, was to the third teaching: “we are of the nature to die”. Reading it, and allowing myself to feel my physical and emotional response, used to be quite intense, and even overwhelming. The words, the images, the thought of my own death created deep seeded fear and panic in me, which I recognized as shortened, shallow breaths and a sense of darkness that was not at all welcoming.

Just to be clear: I’ve spent a lot of time with this one teaching, and I’ve had the support of teachers, monastics, and therapists along the way.

Having revisited these teachings many many times over the years, and with a lot of support, I can now imagine my death and feel at peace with the truth of it. I will die. And I hope that circumstances of that event will allow me to be with loved ones, but I know that’s not something that I can control. I know that when it happens, I will continue in those whose lives I have touched, and feel more unafraid about the event as each day passes.

That’s a significant transformation. Kind of blows me away, if I’m being completely honest.

And yet, when I bring awareness to an event when I’m hearing another diagnosis of ill health, that fear and panic resurface.

Yes. I went out of order, and at present, I’m spending a lot of time with the second teaching: “we are/I am of the nature to have ill health”. It’s scary. I’m not sure that I’m ready for it.

When I reflect on ill health, I envision a second diagnosis, and my body floods with fear. There is sadness there, too, concern for my loved ones, and regrets for things left undone.

The beauty of life truly blooms when we find peace around the truth of our mortality. From the fear and uncertainty grows a clearer understanding of how we want to live our lives, how we want to be with our loved ones, and how we can transform moments of fear with mindful compassion, joy, and knowledge of our support systems.

Caring tenderly for the fear and panic as a path of healing and transformation, I’m staying with the sensations, offering compassion and curiosity to the experience, and gradually finding a little more peace.

Which one will you start with?

When you decide to sit with these teachings, to reflect on them and allow yourself to feel them, please be gentle with yourself. With your body. With your heart. And of course, if sitting with these teachings alone is too much, finding a trusted teacher or other professional to support you is essential.

My most recent pass at these has been within the loving space of a BIPOC sangha (community for buddhist practice/meditation). I volunteered to facilitate for five weeks in a row, to give each of the five teachings space to land, space for reflection, space for sharing and discussion. It was a beautiful experience to hear how each of the teachings landed differently for each participant.

Expect your responses to change over time, and to vary from the person you may be sharing with. Give yourself time for understanding yourself. This is deep stuff, and well worth the effort.

Embracing impermanence

Envisioning oneself aging, ill and in need of support, dying, or losing a loved one, is a powerful exercise to know our bodies and our selves more deeply. If you allow yourself to feel your own patterns of fear response, you know better how to take care of them when they arise again.

When we allow ourselves to witness the impermanence of fear as it arises and fades, we have the capacity to rewire our panic responses to something more calm and measured and patient. Fear is impermanent, just like everything else, including our bodies.

Let’s keep practicing, even with the hard truths, so that when we face the inevitable challenges of life, we have the inner resources to meet them with a little more grace, peace, and compassion.

I know that you’re here, and that makes me happy.