Mike

Sangha

I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.
Mother Teresa

14 July 2022

For those of you who may be wondering, I’m still waiting to hear the results of further testing to determine the course of therapy. I’ll post here as soon as I know.

The day before yesterday I went in for a brief infusion of Zometa (zoledronic acid), a medication that draws calcium into the bones to strengthen them against the effects of tumor growth. I was told that a relatively small number of people experience side effects so I expected to be fine afterward. Nope. I’ve always been satisfied with the notion of my weirdness and non-conformance with accepted standards. BUT it has its disadvantages. Fever, chills, sore bones, cough. So I spent all of yesterday in bed, huddled in a semi-fetal position, determined to keep warm. In the middle of the night last night, I woke up to soaked sheets and a weak but much improved physical state. Today, with the sheets in the washer, I’m feeling MUCH better. I’m sure you know how that works. And as I lay there yesterday, I had some realizations that I’d like to share with you.

Fear has been a prominent theme in what I’ve shared so far, and so far, I’ve been pretty successful at keeping it at bay. Yesterday, being aware of the physical symptoms, I knew they would pass. However, behind this conviction was the question “How much of my remaining life will feel like this?” And for how much of my life will Joan be tasked with carrying the burden of keeping things going? Of course, my standard answer is “I don’t know,” which certainly helps. At the same time, fear is one of our strongest emotions, and it isn’t easy to dissolve. It does, however, come and go unless we hold onto it. And in my opinion the way to let it go is to look squarely at it, respect it, accept it and look for the lesson it wishes to teach us.

When I’m troubled I often go to the web looking for inspiration from those who are wiser and kinder than I am. So I opened up YouTube, and there, at the very top of my home page was a video by Thich Nhat Hahn entitled “How do I stay in the moment when it seems unbearable?” Thich Nhat Hanh was a Vietnameses Zen master who died just six months ago. I had the good fortune to encounter him several times, both at his community in France and at his California community in Escondido. A kind, quiet, compassionate, very wise man. He is often called Thây (teacher in Vietnamese). My situation certainly wasn’t and isn’t unbearable, but the title of the video clicked.

Thây’s message in the video is an interesting one. When our situation is difficult, he says we can go to joy and gratitude for those things in our life that do give us joy. He also says that it’s important to confront our troubling situation and emotions head on and not to run away, which I’ve indicated above. But he spends most of his talk suggesting the importance of sangha (spiritual community) and service through the community. What he does very clearly is move the focus away from dwelling on our own “troubles” to focus on helping others.

Perhaps I’m just making up excuses, but I’m frustrated by my lack of imagination in finding ways to serve others. My world, it seems, has gotten very small. However, based on comments I’ve gotten, perhaps this sharing I’m doing is a way to serve you all. I hope so. I’ve come to see this group as a community of sorts, and I’d like to see the focus move somehow away from my own experience in ways that those who read this can serve each other in compassion and kindness. I’m not sure how to do that.

If you’re not already on the distribution list I created recently and you’d like to know when I publish a new post, please just send a quick e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll put you on my list. And THANK YOU!

Whoever you are, I wish you health, peace, love and joy in abundance.

Mike

Meditation

Zazen is good for nothing.
Shohaku Okumura

9 July 2022

When I went searching on the net for meditation images to insert here, almost all the images were of trim, willowy-figured young women doing yoga postures or sitting in the lotus position on a beach backed by a Photoshopped sunset. Or a monk. Or the Buddha. WTF? Don’t normal, regular guys meditate without miraculous sunsets on idyllic beaches or mountaintops? So I went with rocks, which, I think, are masters at meditation, but I was still stuck with the idyllic seaside setting.
[end of rant]

I normally meditate fifteen minutes every morning, and my technique is really simple. Since I asked people to start doing the Lovingkindness Meditation, I’ve been doing it every day myself, repeating it mentally three times for everyone who I know is working with a health or other challenge, then for a few folks I kinda like or don’t like, for Joan (who I kinda like), for myself, and finally for all beings. After that, I just sit, breathe, and work to be conscious of all the random thoughts running through my awareness: what a hoot to watch all that crap go on and on. I have to say that another blessing of the “diagnosis” is that it’s reconnected me with the Lovingkindness thing. Yesterday, I sat to meditate and was so distracted that I just gave up. No reason why. Just distracted. But this morning I sat to meditate and the whole process was very sweet. I hadn’t intended to post again today, but the experience of distraction followed by sweetness was kind of interesting, so I thought I’d share it. Nothing in my life is solid and consistent. Everything changes, year to year, month to month, week to week, day to day, moment to moment. But I (we?) live in the illusion that there are constants in my life. Nope. Sorry. The more I’m able to let go of the illusion of constancy, the happier I become. And watching the changes happen can even be entertaining. Even the advent of crud-in-bones and my reactions to it. It’s all my choice how I get to see it.

A lot of people think that meditation is a big deal, that it can be a means to an end (peace, mental stability, enlightenment, etc.). Many people also think that one has to meditate the “right” way. I see it differently. Having been associated with meditation for most of my life, there’s nothing special about it, and the only hard part is starting a practice and staying with it. There is no “right” way. Just sit, shut up and watch what happens. And don’t expect anything in particular to happen. Oh, sure. It’s ok, I guess, to set a particular goal at the outset if it provides motivation to begin a practice. But ultimately, setting a goal for meditation, to me, misses the point. When I’m actually meditating, I just sit, shut up (to the best of my ability) and watch what happens. Without my striving for it, it seems to just help. I’m not even sure how it helps. I just feel better if I stick with the practice.

There’s a delightful Japanese Zen monk by the name of Shohaku Okumura who has posted a number of YouTube videos that are particularly engaging. My favorite is one titled “Zazen is Good for Nothing.” (Zazen is Zen meditation.) I think what attracts me most to this approach is the sheer humility of it. The only real meaning in my life lies in the love and kindness that I’m able to share. But that’s the subject of another post.

Thanks for sticking with me. I’m very aware that you might not agree with how I look at all this, but, hey, I’d encourage you to start your own blog.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

Mike

Anniversary

How few days are needed for a century to pass.
Bram Stoker, spoken by Dracula

7 July 2022

Today is our 43rd wedding anniversary. Forty-three years! How in the world did that happen? This health thing and Joan’s affirmations of love and support have brought me to realize again how precious is our being together, how precious love is, how precious family is, how precious friends are, and how precious is each moment. It’s a human tendency, I think, to “normalize” our experience of life and simply to take it for granted. Yeah, right. I’ve heard this so many times before. But I’ve gotta get this project done. We’re out of eggs…do I have time to get to the grocery store? Oh damn, not a call from him again… And it goes on and on. One of the many gifts of this health situation is that I’m allowing life to leak through and be wonderful. Are you?

How are we celebrating? Well, first we were both relieved that neither of us had bought a card or other socially encouraged and commercially marketed expression of celebration. We had looked into spending a couple days in San Francisco to enhance our cultural standing at museums and such, but after some discussion we decided not to mortgage the house to be able to afford a hotel room there. So we did the Sacramento cultural thing and saw the new Minions movie, followed by a fabulous lunch, well lubricated with distilled spirits. This is all great, because after the initial shock and obsession with crud-in-bones, life is back to normal. A very nice normal.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

Mike

OK Boomer

You don’t stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.
George Bernard Shaw

6 July 2022

Three geezers walk into a bar. No, really. I’m 72, and my my dear friends Tom Kigar and Tom Nelson bid farewell to 70 some time ago. The three of us had been taking a 2-1/2 mile stroll through downtown Sacramento and we ended up at a trendy rooftop bar in the heart of downtown. As we walked in, heads turned to watch us, at which point I commented, “Guys, do you realize that each of us is at least twice the age of every other person here?” As we sipped our drinks, I had a fun idea: to gather two or three more superannuated smartasses and hobble into the bar, each of us supported by a walker. We could then get into fussing (as some old folks do) about who sits where, how difficult it is to slide onto the high metal stools at the high-top tables, and ultimately to do a lengthy drama over how the bill gets divvied up. And we’d also have to carry out the obligatory loud discussion about our various ailments and medications. Why loud? Hard of hearing.

Finally, we’d fold up our walkers, grab them and walk briskly out of the bar, laughing the whole way. It would just be fun to watch the reactions, don’t you think? OK boomer my ass.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, joy, peace and love in abundance.

Mike

An Update

I suppose our capacity for self-delusion is boundless.
John Steinbeck

4 July 2022

It’s been a week and a half since I’ve posted anything substantive here, and I want to apologize to any of you who have been checking in. I don’t know who’s checking and how often, nor how many you are. THANK YOU, at any rate. I don’t want to lose you, and there will be gaps in the future, so please tell if you’d like me to let you know whenever I post something. Just send me a quick e-mail at atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com…you don’t even have to write a message. Just put “Subscribe” in the subject line. And I’ll send you an e-mail notification when I post.

In relation to the quote above. I’ve been saying how fearless I’ve been about this whole thing, and how I’ve been avoiding catastrophic fantasizing. Yeah. Right. Last Tuesday, Joan and I met with my oncologist, and leading up to that meeting I had to recognize that I was somewhat anxious (anxiety=fear, kids). Also that I had prepared myself for him to tell me “Well, Mike, being that this is a really weird cancer [it is], there’s not much we can do. You’re really screwed. Get your affairs in order.” Wow. Such an imagination! I had even started planning out my memorial service, because, of course, I want to control it, even if I can’t be there. (And, at this point, I promise that parts of it will be pretty cool, assuming, of course, that my family does one and that anybody shows up.)

In sum, despite the bullshit I’ve pumped at you lovely people in my previous posts, I was deluding myself in regard to experiencing fear and creating unfortunate fantasies. What I’ve discovered instead is that there are varying levels of fear. While I haven’t been running up and down the street screaming in fear-produced agony, the fear I’ve been feeling has been more subtle and controlled. Fear without drama, I guess. That’s ok with me. But if you think about it, that realization regarding fear in varying levels of intensity was no more than a blinding flash of the obvious. (Please forgive the use of a way overused cliché.)

To our relief, Joan and I came away from the oncologist meeting with some knowledge and some hope. For those of you who want the medical details:

The doctor thinks the cancer might have been in the bones almost from the get-go, but it was too small to have been detected and it’s been growing slowly over the last two years. In his words, “We have time.”
The biopsy samples have been sent to a lab in San Francisco for genetic testing, in the hope of finding a mutation that would allow for genetically based therapy that would likely be quite effective in impeding the tumors’ growth. The therapy itself would simply involve a pill I would take every day. A relatively slim chance, but it’s possible. The results should be in in a week or so. Let’s hope we can go in that direction.
If the genetic mutation isn’t evident, standard chemotherapy for several months has promise of slowing down the tumors’ growth. Been there, done that. What the hell. I can do nausea, constipation and lack of energy again. Woohoo!

The upshot is that I can back off on planning my memorial at this point. Another significant thing that happened during our meeting was that I became very comfortable with my doctor. I have a wonderful relationship with the head/neck surgeons I’ve worked with so far, but I had had very limited contact with this oncologist two years ago, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. My relationship with these healers who are messing with my body is REALLY important. Compassion and caring are critical, as, of course, is their technical expertise.

I noted to Dr Doang that, as an oncologist, he must regularly see his patients die, and I asked him how that affected him. His answer was right on: “It’s supposed to become routine, but it never does. It’s not easy.” I also mentioned that a couple of my friends had spoken of “fighting” cancer. He smiled, then I told him that I’m a lover not a fighter and that I had no desire to introduce conflict into my body. He smiled again and said something like “You’re right. We’re not fighting it. We’re managing it.” He also shared that he was raised by Buddhist parents in a Chinese household, although he said he wasn’t “practicing.” This gave him a particularly calm and peaceful approach. Joan and I were hooked! This is definitely the right guy for two folks who are strongly attracted to the Buddha’s teachings.

I’ll end the post here, But I’m eager to share some thoughts from some reading I’ve been doing lately on near-death experiences (NDEs). I’ve just finished reading a book titled After by a psychiatrist named Bruce Greyson, and the conclusions relating to the research conducted by a growing number of scientists is pretty amazing. I promise to post again before too long.

Again, if you’d like me to let you know when I post more stuff, please send a quick e-mail to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” the the subject line.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

Mike

What, me worry?

Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear – not absence of fear.
Mark Twain

21 June 2022

A couple days ago, I was accused of having courage. I’m not one to allow such a slur to go unchallenged, even when delivered in a spirit of kindness by a friend whom I love. So I protested gently (my friend is a VERY nice guy) to set the record straight. When we denounce someone as courageous, noble or dedicated, we are actually projecting on the person attributes that WE would wish to express were we in a similar circumstance, and the insult might in fact hold true, but it also might have nothing to do with the person’s actual internal reality. In my case, I don’t feel courageous at all, because I’m not experiencing much in the way of the fear that courage requires to exist.

Some guys, in particular, will recognize the little guy depicted above. He’s Alfred E Neuman, the mascot of Mad Magazine, a totally irreverent satirical magazine that was popular among pre-pubescent and teenage boys in the 1950s and 60s. (OMG! I just checked and it’s still being published!) Al is a happy-go-lucky, mischievous dolt who is used by his cartoonist creators to satirize the stupidities of the day. Why have I invited him here? Well, I wonder sometimes if Al and I have something in common. I’m just having a good time, enjoying my life, not plagued by fear or panic. Am I in denial? Well…I acknowledge there’s stuff in my body that doctors say will probably kill it, and I acknowledge the prospect of challenging treatments and pains in places where I don’t want to have pain. (Hold it! Where would I want to have pain?) So I don’t think I’m in denial. I get it.

But in the meantime, I’m really enjoying myself. I’m loving hanging out with my wife, family and friends. Going with Joan to Home Depot to buy plants for the yard was delightful. Finally figuring out and documenting the convoluted electrical system I installed in this house was a real joy. Despite my concerted efforts to cultivate an introverted, curmudgeonly image, I’m having a great time getting in contact with folks I haven’t heard from in decades, and I’m actually spending time communicating via e-mail, which, in the past, I’ve always hated. As for the fear part, as I’ve expressed in prior posts, all I have is today, so I’d better enjoy it. And making up disastrous shit about a future I know nothing about would be pretty stupid, even for a guy who aspires to be like Alfred E Neuman.

It will be interesting to see how this attitude holds up IF I end up dry heaving in response to chemotherapy. Time will tell.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy.

Mike

The Power of Language

I ka ʻōlelo nō ke ola. I ka ʻōlelo nō ka make.
Hawaiian saying

18 June 2022

A view of the ocean a short walk from our home in Hilo, Hawaiʻi

The quote above translates into English as “In language there is life. In language there is death.” Deeply rooted in Hawaiian culture is the conviction that every word, every utterance carries mana, or power. Thereʻs much truth in this, if you think about it. In your own experience, can you think of something someone has said that has transformed your day, or even your life? Perhaps a word of kindness. Or, unfortunately, a word of discouragement. Think of children whose parents tell them how stupid they are, or of other parents who support and encourage their children. Kind words can infuse life into a personʻs soul, and cruel words can kill oneʻs spirit. Iʻve learned over the course of many years how important is the language I share with others, as well as how important and impactful are the words that I tell myself. And I share this here because language has much to do with how I approach my current adventure with cancer. Iʻd like to offer some specific examples of the words I choose in this context and why I choose them.

You might or might not have noticed that at no point in my sharing here have I said “I have cancer.” Instead, Iʻve said something like “the body that I inhabit is having an experience with cancer.” Thereʻs a whole world of difference there. Committed agnostic that I am, Iʻm coming to understand that I am not my body. Based on the research Iʻve been looking at for several years, it appears that this body exists in a field of consciousness, part of which is a mind that identifies as “Mike.” Itʻs like saying that rather than having an awareness that exists in the body, the body is something that exists in a field of awareness. I see the body as being on loan for a time, and for me to identify too strongly with that body would be very limiting. And damn, as that body gets older, weaker and uglier, why would any idiot want to identify closely with it? So “I” donʻt have cancer, but I get to observe my bodyʻs responses to cancer as I also observe how “I” react to that situation. (You know, whatʻs funny is that when I look at pictures of me in my twenties, I realize that I was pretty damn cute, and that body was kinda worth identifying with, but jeez I thought I was ugly then. Skinny, big nose, geeky-looking, totally unsexy. Talk about idiotic! Did any of you have the same stupidity running thorough your young brains?)

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I never speak of fighting cancer. To some, I know, thatʻs just plain weird. Well, to those who know me well, you know that I embrace and celebrate my and othersʻ weirdness. But itʻs more than that. Mine is a way of love. As you can see clearly, Iʻm not ignoring the condition, but Iʻm addressing it, working with it, doing what I can to transform it. Through love, kindness, quiet strength. I have no desire to introduce and encourage conflict in this body. Many peopleʻs worldview (perhaps yours) could not accept such an approach. Of course you have to fight cancer! Well, not really. Thereʻs already too much anger and conflict in the world. I refuse to incite yet more, even in the microcosm of this body. Am I nuts? Possibly. Even probably. But Iʻd rather be a little nuts than a bunch angry. Deal with it…

Oh yeah. Thatʻs another word I donʻt use. I donʻt say Iʻm “dealing with” the situation. Think about the energy that deal with carries. We generally apply it to things that are likely to be unpleasant, things weʻd rather avoid. My current situation canʻt really be avoided. I might as well address it and work with it the best I can. If I say Iʻm dealing with it, Iʻm adding an extra dose of unpleasantness that isnʻt necessary, and why should I do that when I can opt not to by choosing my language carefully? Remember, words have power, and the words I use are not only conscious, but they feed subtle and powerful messages to my subconscious as well. Iʻm determined to be in a productive, life-affirming mindset at ALL levels.

So am I saying this whole thing isnʻt unpleasant? Well, of course it is, WHENEVER I CHOOSE TO SEE IT THAT WAY. Soreness has just shown up in my back. Do I like that? Of course not! I may look stupid, but, hey, I was blessed with a really good university education. So my back hurts. As I just told my doctor, maybe itʻs psychosomatic or the result of sleeping on an old mattress. Or maybe it comes from the crud in my back. In any event, itʻs just there and dwelling on it will just make it worse. So I head for the Tylenol and hope for the best. Why should I make myself miserable by using the “unpleasant” word? Who knows if I can keep up this approach, but in the meantime itʻs still working. Stay tuned…

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, joy and peace.

Mike

Benefits

With every adversity comes a blessing because a shock acts as a reminder to oneself that we must not get stale in routine.
Bruce Lee

16 June 2022

This morning, as I wait for more information about what’s next for me medically, I was thinking that sometimes it just gets tiresome to stay “positive.” But the fact is, I’m not sure I know how else to do this. I’ve spent many years retraining myself to approach things in a life-affirming way, and whining and complaining just don’t work for me any more. I do, however, retain the option to go there if and when things get really challenging.

Joan and I are currently spending a few days in northern Idaho with Mike Moran and Gaea Swinford, dear, dear friends of many years. While here with them, I get zapped with bullets of joy, and I’m reminded to be aware of the blessings of my situation. Sounds weird, huh? The blessings of a cancer diagnosis. Of course there are blessings! There are potential blessings most anywhere…it all depends on what filters we choose to look through and what we choose to emphasize. So here are a few benefits I’ve identified in this situation. (I should also say that this exercise is purely selfish on my part. As a matter of fact, everything I’m writing here is in pure and absolute self-interest, and If you, the reader, are gaining any benefit from what I’m sharing, that’s your problem. I take no responsibility.) So here are a few benefits:

The level of communication I’m having with my beloved wife Joan touches levels of sweetness and sharing that we haven’t always had in the past. I’m being quite open and forthcoming about sharing what’s going on with me, which I know she appreciates.
Joan…extravert (“What’s happening? Whoʻs involved? What did they say? Talk!”)
Me…introvert (“Huh?”)
I’ve been in contact with dear friends whom I haven’t heard from in many years, and the kind and loving messages they’re sending are opening for me doors and windows of love and gratitude.
I’m focusing, perhaps more than I ever have, on enjoying each moment that is gifted to me, noticing things like leaves rustling in the wind and the paths of clouds scudding across the sky.
I’m having fun with this blog, taking what opportunities I can to be a smartass.
People are sending me (and I’m finding on my own) links to some amazing YouTube videos that speak to our place in the universe, our ability to love and our utter insignificance (which I’m very ok with). If you keep checking in here, I’ll be sharing them with you. At present, though, I don’t want to blow my whole wad in one post.
I’m getting acquainted with the latest research on near death experiences (NDEs), thanks mostly to Steve Fick, my Peace Corps pal of forty-plus years ago. Folks, this is incredible stuff, and it’s not just woo-woo shit. There is a very credible body of verifiable research and evidence there. It will be the subject of a future blog post, I promise.
After years, as a card-carrying agnostic. of simply avoiding anything “spiritual”, I’m looking more intently at the possibility of something more profound than my customary eat-sleep-eliminate cycle of existence. (Note how I cleaned up the language in the previous sentence, but feel free to insert the more widely accepted term if you wish.)
If things transpire as expected with this medical condition, it will be unlikely that I’ll grow old enough to face dementia in some rest home. Joan and I, in talking about it, have identified that as a distinct benefit.

There’s more, of course, but I’m getting bored with typing this for now, and I figure the post is long enough. One thing, though: I challenge you to identify something that you’re finding difficult in your life at the moment and list the benefits it provides you. If I can come up with a list of benefits deriving from having cancerous crud scattered throughout my bones, you can sure as hell do the same for some challenge you’re facing. Or not.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, joy, love and peace.

Mike

Another Step Along the Way

Let us not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless when facing them.
Rabindranath Tagore

13 June 2022

At this point, I get to decide whether At Peace With Cancer is real or it’s just a wishful affirmation. I talked this morning with the doctor who had ordered the biopsy, and it is apparent that the cancer that exists in the body I inhabit is both widespread and aggressive. From a medical perspective, we’re no longer talking about a cure but about prolonging life in a way that makes that life livable. More testing will be necessary: it’s too early to tell if there are any effective treatments for this type of tumor. So I wait again for more information. (Of course, I’d welcome a miracle cure…please keep doing the Lovingkindness thing…although I’m not a fan of magical thinking.)

How do I feel? I’m not sure, really. Numb perhaps. Butterflies show up occasionally in my stomach, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out how they’re getting in and out. I’m not putting a name on the emotion…it’s just emotion. What hits me most is the statement I’ve made to my beloved wife Joan: “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

AND, while I’m strong and fully functional, we’re already laying out what is to be done to ease the transition. Financial stuff, my documenting all the weird shit I’ve done in remodeling the house for 40 years, getting rid of our Diamond International/Hilton Vacations timeshare points contract. (If anybody is interested in purchasing VERY cheaply a timeshare contract for some very cool luxury resorts scattered around the US and the world, please let me know.)

14 June 2022

Yesterday evening we had my younger son’s family over to update them on what’s happening…our son, our daughter-in-law, our two grandsons and our older grandson’s girlfriend. Today we’ve set up a Zoom call with our older son and his husband. Full informaton, delivered straight and with a little humor. How incredibly grateful I am for my amazing family…full trust, no bullshit and a lot of love. I’m aware of the fact that many people and families cannot bring themselves to be open about critical issues like health, finances and the inevitability of death. And I have much compassion for folks who can’t share that kind of trust with their families. I am SO grateful for mine.

My dilemma at this point is that this situation sits constantly, incessantly at the top of my attention. Of course the information is new, and it’s pretty impactful. (Well, duh, Mike!) AND I look forward to a time when the cancer and its challenges are simply a fact of my life and don’t dominate nearly every thought. I do believe that will happen. In the meantime, I have to be vigilant in not making any harmful unwarranted assumptions.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy.

Mike

Sad About a Missed Opportunity

As you grow older, you’ll find the only things you regret are the things you didn’t do.
Zachary Scott
Life is too short to be reading quotes about life being too short. Stop reading and go live your life!
Kevin Ngo

13 June 2022

When I was in college, I was a member of a surrogate family of seven misfits (sorry guys…you’re welcome to protest) who had bonded together in our freshman year as we tried to figure out how the HELL we had actually gotten into Harvard. My 50th college reunion took place at the end of May, when I was tied up with medical tests. I didn’t attend it. To be honest, I hadn’t even planned to attend, figuring I wouldn’t see anyone I knew there. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The fact is that five of my former misfit (since then very successful) friends/brothers DID show up.

And I was not there. My friend Andy Geoghegan sent pictures of the guys together at the reunion, as well as pictures of us as kids some 50 years ago (courtesy of our avid chronicler Larry Bowers). And I was not there, a cause of great sadness on my part. The sadness is not about the fact that my medical tests prevented me from being there, but that I had chosen not to go anyway. So Andy, Larry, Bob, Joel and George…I apologize. You were a very important part of my life at a very crucial time in my life, and I know that you are fine and wonderful men. Maybe I could have rescheduled the medical stuff so I could have been there to join you, but I didn’t.

The advent of a strong emotion is usually an indication that I should pay attention and maybe do something, or at least learn something. So what’s to do and/or learn here? First, that I’ve grown pretty smug about my ability to avoid making assumptions. Guess not. Second, that I don’t care much about the past, that Harvard was far behind me and that, after all these years, it doesn’t matter any more. Perhaps the past doesn’t matter, but the possibility of spending a moment in the present with people whom I’ve loved IS important, and I will act on that knowledge from now on. Despite my introverted tendencies, I’ll treasure opportunities to be with those whom I care about, perhaps even taking the chance to show up anyway, not knowing if they’ll be there.

And to anyone who’s reading this, I invite you to consider with me what opportunities you have, even the iffy ones, that might bring joy to your life. Life is AWFULLY short. I invite you to live it.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, joy and peace.