"17 Points of Clarity" Coming Around Again
Living gratefully, I appreciate my job and all the people I come in contact with. I am also grateful for meditations that help me feel rested.
I have the number 17 on my mind as I move closer to the starting line of my seventeenth marathon. The number 17 emerged significantly in my cancer surgeries, treatment, and the months following.
*July 17, 2008 surgery #1, lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy (fear peaks and subsides)
*December 17, 2008 surgery #3, bilateral mastectomy (relief!)
*May 17, 2009 first post-cancer half-marathon (unfettered!)
*October 17, 2009 first post-cancer full marathon, and the first that my husband Darcy and I finished
side-by-side (Other than my first-ever marathon finish, this one is tops!)
I don’t know how many more marathons I will run, but I knew I wanted to get to this number. I am further motivated and inspired by another special 17... my son Sam is 17 now. As I head to this marathon starting line he is heading into his senior year.
My friend Jenny and I, coworkers diagnosed less than a month apart in 2008, went from tenuous to tenacious friends and remain connected today. In 2009, our two writing souls, recovering from cancer, wrote a book together. It was good work then, and though it sits in manuscript form, it remains good work.
I am going to take the next weeks leading up to marathon 17 to take another look at the "17 Points of Clarity" I wrote about 10 years ago. It is one of the essays I wrote for our book "Into the Blue."
I want to see where these 17 points take my writing soul now that I have lost a sibling to cancer, now that I am in my mid-fifties. Here is an early blog post, "17 Points of Clarity" from January, 14, 2013.
Point #1: All any of us have is today.
Cancer or no cancer, troubled or at peace, energized or depleted, the day ahead is a gift. What will I do with it?
Did Mary Jo know when her last day had arrived? Did she sense it, welcome it?
Brother David Steindl-Rast says: If we treat each day as if it is the very first day of our lives and the very last day of our lives, it will be a good day.
As Jenny wrote for our book, it helps "punctuate the exquisite beauty of now."
Now. This moment. Embrace it. Experience it.
I have the number 17 on my mind as I move closer to the starting line of my seventeenth marathon. The number 17 emerged significantly in my cancer surgeries, treatment, and the months following.
*July 17, 2008 surgery #1, lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy (fear peaks and subsides)
*December 17, 2008 surgery #3, bilateral mastectomy (relief!)
*May 17, 2009 first post-cancer half-marathon (unfettered!)
*October 17, 2009 first post-cancer full marathon, and the first that my husband Darcy and I finished
side-by-side (Other than my first-ever marathon finish, this one is tops!)
I don’t know how many more marathons I will run, but I knew I wanted to get to this number. I am further motivated and inspired by another special 17... my son Sam is 17 now. As I head to this marathon starting line he is heading into his senior year.
My friend Jenny and I, coworkers diagnosed less than a month apart in 2008, went from tenuous to tenacious friends and remain connected today. In 2009, our two writing souls, recovering from cancer, wrote a book together. It was good work then, and though it sits in manuscript form, it remains good work.
I am going to take the next weeks leading up to marathon 17 to take another look at the "17 Points of Clarity" I wrote about 10 years ago. It is one of the essays I wrote for our book "Into the Blue."
I want to see where these 17 points take my writing soul now that I have lost a sibling to cancer, now that I am in my mid-fifties. Here is an early blog post, "17 Points of Clarity" from January, 14, 2013.
Point #1: All any of us have is today.
Cancer or no cancer, troubled or at peace, energized or depleted, the day ahead is a gift. What will I do with it?
Did Mary Jo know when her last day had arrived? Did she sense it, welcome it?
Brother David Steindl-Rast says: If we treat each day as if it is the very first day of our lives and the very last day of our lives, it will be a good day.
As Jenny wrote for our book, it helps "punctuate the exquisite beauty of now."
Now. This moment. Embrace it. Experience it.
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