Dying/broken/forgiven.... now I begin

Born: 17-06-56....gemini.... monkey
re-born: 3-09-80
born again\found: 14-04-08
other notable dates: 10-03-68; 03-09-87; 23-03-96;
1-05-98; 31-01-02; 5-04-04

Interests: movement, stressed/transgressive embodiment, lived experience (body\space\time\relation)
expression ( word, dance, text, image, story, music, poetics)
learning, yielding......

Hopes for the blog:
offer up the wild intersectedness of lived experience and engage others in creative, expressive, perhaps irreverant, hopefully playful, and respectful encounters....
enact kindness
create moments of pause for disclosure, discovery, stillness

Friday, May 31, 2013


so, another month has passed. May and its lessons. This will be the title of my next post. I am processing the remaining gifts of chemotherapy. Lots of "processing" in body, mind and heart. The body stuff is cleansing and irritating and uncomfortable all at the same time. Oh, and ex-HAUST-ing. Whew. Nice to sleep more easily. Nice to be nauseous for short periods of the day and not for days and days at a stretch. Nice to be getting my taste buds back ..... sensation back in my hands and fingers, that's nice,too. Feet and toes, another story. Hey, I am glad to be feeling them again, but it has been totally weird. And painful. And ITCHY.

but enough of that .....
One of the real joys of this cancer odyssey has been the support of friends. One such friend, I will call her Leaf, has been my chemo driver. She picks me up, drives me to the clinic, waits and sits with me through the treatment and drives me home. Our sessions have been a blast..... we chat, we have created assessment rubrics ( we both are involved in a teaching based occupation), we have planned and  written conference presentations,  we tell each other stories from our lives. I want to share one of Leaf's stories with you. The title of this post is at the heart of her story.
So, Leaf  plays hockey in a men's league.There are a few women who do this..... they play at good level and like the added edge in the men's game. These gals also play in women's leagues, but they seem to thrive on the variety. Anyway, Leaf has been playing with these guys for a few years. There is a good sense of respect and fun and support. After the game, the team goes for wings and beer and it is an easy social context. Most of the guys are married and some are related to each other and know each other well. Leaf enjoys the post game social time and is comfortable with this group of fellas. On the rare occasions the guys want to go to a strip club, Leaf leaves them to it and goes her own way rejoicing.
At a game a few days after one such strip club excursion, Leaf notices that one of the fellas, let's call him Jack,  is covered with bruises all around his neck and shoulders. She does not want to pry, so waits for some of the other guys to pass on the tale. At wings and beer after the game, the other fellas give her the scoop. Jack has begged off early to be with his wife and their new baby. This is an important detail.
Turns out that at the strip club, one of the Ladies got nice and close to Jack and gave him a huge hickey. In the parking lot after they leave the club all hands notice her handiwork and Jack is now in dire straits. He cannot go home to his wife and their precious new baby with this awful mark on his neck. What to do??
I looked at Leaf and said, " he asked the guys to beat him up, right?"
She looked back at me, incredulously, and said "Yes!" like this was some unthinkable thing. Indeed he did.... Jack begged his pals to go at him with  their sticks and to follow up with fists in hockey gloves  to make it look even more authentic. Apparently, the beating allowed him to get home to wife and child with no worries at all. Except the aftermath of the beating.

Leaf and I traded lots of stories from everyday life. I love stories..... such lovely slices of life and such textured slivers of light illuminating  these  sweet and funny moments that make up so much of how we are in the world. My deep  appreciation for these moments is also a gift of chemotherapy,as are the words and messages that I continue to read from fellow bloggers. Cheers to all of you poets of  moments and imagination.