Apricot Pit Cure for Cancer - Not

Herbs Cost Money

Over the years I attempted to modify my nutrition in whatever was the most popular fashion at the time. (and if you read the latest, you must realize it changes frequently). Still, I do continue to take vitamins and use various herbal preparations substantiated as useful, as well as use standard methods of medical treatments. I use the Balch Books, as they are well formulated without all the hype. They have some references, but not enough. I study them and compare other sources to gain enough knowledge to see what I would be paying to pee at a high and useless rate, or to gain some healthful benefits. And that's my point aiming for as good a health as possible, not necessarily to cure what cannot be cured. If my ancestors used the stuff for generations for what ailed them, fine, But that didn't stop them from dying from cancer or have deaths at a younger age than we have. Just because a treatment was used in the past, doesn't mean it would work any better today.

Not too long ago, I found a site that gave the original recipe of eating just 17 sun-dried apricot pits per day to "cure" cancers as that was the original way of doing it. The site offered a U.S. source of the apricot pits and provided them at nominal cost But, when I looked for that site today, I found it's been long gone. So, I found another one where you can buy organically grown apricot pits already hammered (it is a really hard job). But, apricot pits contain cyanide! When someone gets cyanide poisoning it actually interferes with the body's ability to get oxygen. So none of the cells in the body are getting any oxygen. Some of the symptoms of cyanide poisoning are:

Apricot Kernel Warning

Patients will first notice a faint almond smell, feel dizzy perhaps initially, breathlessness, then convulsions or seizures, foaming at the mouth. And finally complete organ shutdown and death.

Today, the apricot pit cure has been transformed into Laetrile treatments.

I experienced the first three symptoms, then vomiting before I quit ingesting apricot pits. I really didn't know about all the dangerous side effects at the time. I just foolishly followed all the latest hype of what alternatives could magically cure my cancer. Needless to say, it didn't work. I hope anyone reading this will research it thoroughly by finding authentic scientific articles.

I am aware there are clinics in Tijuana, and Juarez, Mexico where one can go for "Laetrile treatments" under the care of a Mexican physician claiming to be able to cure your cancers. You don't get apricots to eat, you get IV's full of vitamin C and other nutrients you could easily just get for yourself. You get a place to stay, you get people who are so happy to receive your money that they will treat you extra nice, just to make sure you will come back often if you're in good enough condition to do so. I’ve run a support group for cancer patients the last fifteen years. I see people waste money and precious time they could spend with their families. I’ve watched them suffer so badly towards the end of their lives because they think standard medical treatment is “bad” for them. They risk following the idea that there are secret cures for cancer if you only just try them. They do not work.

Must Cancer Patients Be Positive?

When we come into this world we act out as freely as we want to. As time goes by, we get messages from others that to freely express ourselves is not okay. Whoever said one must be a "good" (insert name of disease here), patient? What the hell is that anyways? If we are "good" does that mean we get to stay on this planet longer?

I know that there is a LOT of rhetoric about "keeping a positive attitude" and not "being negative" will help one to have good health and survival. Oh and don't forget organic vegan lifestyle. If you didn't eat it before how is it going to take over and heal you? Maybe you like that style of food. But, wouldn't a hot fudge sundae be nice?

If it's true that not thinking positive, having a negative attitude, not eating certain foods, then I would have been gone a long time ago, because I was a very "bad" cancer patient.

My inner child was pissed off. I went against the rules every chance I got, kicking and screaming and swearing at nurses (well, some of them deserved it) and telling people out loud that I had the forbidden "C" word and I was going to die.

Whoa! But those doctors were wrong. Maybe I was close to dying (had two Near Death Experiences), but no one can predict your future, really. Not even a doctor.

I was obsessed and talked about the "D" word to whoever I could get to listen. Most would get out of it, but some were cornered and I probably scared them to death. That was a time when the C word or D word was not discussed.

I wrote out my will, I don't know how many times. Well, that is, every time I had a recurrence. I really didn't have much to leave, some books, some artwork, some poems, some favorite things. I wrote it out with pencil and paper from a 3 ring notebook; one time leaving my art to my sis, next time to my brother. There was something cathartic in it for me.

Realizing I didn't want a "funeral", just a "wake", a party maybe, where people would play all my favorite music, (wrote that in the will, too) and I went around making people feel uncomfortable when I told them, "Don't buy flowers for me after I am dead, Give them to me now, so I can appreciate them." What a bad girl I was. I can laugh at it now, but I was pretty indignant back then. Why put hundreds, maybe thousands of flowers on a casket that is put into the ground the day they are arranged? It seemed so selfish to me. Love me now, not when I'm dead!

So, when we come into this world and we are cute little babies, we can get pissed off and scream our heads off and let everybody know just how unhappy we are. And we get away with it. We know what we want and when we want it, like, I want that milk, NOW! and yummy that is really good!! and then we are happy for a while, and then later we are miserable again, or sleepy, or giggly, or sad.... yet free to express whatever we feel. And people love you and care for you and for your feelings.

All I am saying is, I hope you will give yourself the right to feel however you want to feel and don't let anyone else pass judgment on you, and most of all, don't pass judgment on yourself for not being a "good" patient. Be whoever you are!

If it is true that your time on this planet is coming to a close, then why not do what you want? Well, maybe, not use that bludgeon you were thinking of. But, maybe take a stick and beat up the sofa. Listen to the music you want, eat popsicles and pizza or cereal for dinner and pudding for breakfast, wear all mismatched clothes or draw tattoos on your arm or get out your old Barbies and dress Ken in Drag or your old Legos and build castles. And, yes, protect yourself from those who are still stuck in their old ways, if you need to. You have no obligation to keep them in your life. It's your life after all, whatever is left of it, even if it goes long term. Clear out all the things that do not matter to you. It's very freeing to let go.

Take care of that little baby you once were who expressed yourself so freely. And in the meantime grab up all the love you can get for that which is inside you feeling empty and let it fill your heart until it is overflowing. You will be very surprised as the overflow floods those around you, and whether or not you get healed of the disease which might kill you, your heart will be healed with the fullness of love as it grows like a jungle garden. Your love and others intertwined in the leaves healing each other.

My Uncle - A Poem

Dean Evans

Does anybody know
I wonder
will they care?
My cousin
just called me,
her father has cancer

He was my uncle who took me in
when I was pregnant;
my uncle who taught me to sing;
my uncle who taught me;
about cleaning carpets;
the value of having a life insurance policy;
who taught me how
to pick up a bowling ball the right way,
and get how to get a strike

My father's little brother,
my uncle called him all the time
to help him get through Dad's last days;
encouraging him to be positive,
to have faith.

He was once a little boy
who my parents took into their home to live
when he no longer had a mother and his Dad was sick.
When my Dad was in his last days
My uncle tolerated Mom's comments to him.
My uncle, no matter how old,
was still the little brother, to her.

I think I will tell my older brother
and I wonder,
does he even know my uncle?
Doe he remember him from 1955?
Will it matter to him
that the last of that generation
will soon no longer be with us?

I think I will tell my sister;
and I wonder,
how well does she know him?
Perhaps from the family gatherings we attended.

I think of my younger brother and believe
he might know my uncle best of all.
He hired our uncle to work for him at one time.

My cousin asked me
to inform this side of the family.
My uncle is sick.
The prognosis is terminal.
I am surprised at myself how emotional I feel.

Elizabeth Munroz
November 11, 2007

All Palms Are Not Trees

When my dear friend, Linda, was diagnosed with cancer, she didn't me until close to the end.

I recall a few times when she had symptoms she would ask me about. What would I suggest about a black spot in her vision, she asked. I thought she meant she had a floater.

What were the bumps in her neck? I thought she had swollen glands because of a throat infection. Why was she coughing all the time? Asthma, I suggested.

Apparently it was all part of her cancer. I figured that out later. There were other things, too. If I had only known!

She expressed her distress that I had moved five hundred miles away, and I missed her sorely. It would have been so much better had I stayed. Seeing her in person, I would have known sooner. She wouldn't have been able to hide it from me. It would have been obvious.

As it was, I had traveled down to visit her. We sat around the table after dinner when she asked me to read her palm. I hadn't done that for years, and begged off.

But, her husband jumped in and insisted. In fact, he demanded I read his palm first. I was quite surprised at Bob's insistence and I felt a little uncomfortable. I thought those "talents" had gone to rest.

Just for fun, I had taken up palm reading as a teen when I found a book on the subject that had belonged to my grandmother, "How to Tell Fortunes".

It had other methods besides palm reading in it. But, that was what resonated with me. I did it for fun until the readings started to be more seriously accurate.

"Oh, your palm reveals you have eight marriages!" I laughed, but the man across from me stared with mouth open. "How did you know that? No one knows about that!" But, when I accurately predicted the demise of someone, I refused to do any more fortune telling. Certain signs suggest the worst, and I didn't want to see such things.

By the time Linda and Bob were pressing me to read their palms, I had no qualms to keep me from playing along with them.

I must admit, however, that I stuck to the original protocol of observations I had learned, shapes of fingers and hand, how the mounds are formed and the measurement of lines as indicators for translation.

Bob stuck his hand in front of me. I asked to see both, as that was how I learned. One hand for your destiny and the other to see if you live your fate, or change it. I knew Bob had already been married before so I wasn't surprised to see two marriage lines, but I was curious to see the third marriage indicated.

I remembered that Linda only had one marriage line. So, I casually said, "After Linda dies, you will marry again." And to make a joke, I added, "Sorry about that Linda!"

But no one laughed. In fact Bob got an odd look on his face, and frowned at Linda. "What did you tell her?"

Her face was pale and eyes wide open, "Look at mine, tell me what mine says. Maybe it changed!" By this time I was really uncomfortable and tried to beg off from further prognostications.

Then little Andrea, their daughter, who had been eavesdropping on us all along came to me with hand extended. I took hold and kissed her palm. "It says everybody loves you and you will be rich and pretty when you grow up." But, she wasn't buying it. I hadn't actually perused her palm and she stuck it in my face. Then it was my turn to have wide eyes and be pale. There it was as clear as day.

She would face a very tragic episode in her life within a very short time. Of course, I told her no such thing.

But, once Linda sent her out to play, she and Bob plied me for what I saw. Why I didn't just make something up, I will never know.

When I learned from Grandma's book, it seemed the ethics of a respectable palm reader were ingrained in my mind as much as the meanings of the symbols. Integrity was my excuse. I could only hem and haw, with maybes and perhaps's and I'm not sure, but's.

It was pretty clear to me. But, Bob's next marriage and the tragedy in Andrea's future was to be the loss of my very dear friend.

It's odd how I totally blocked that memory until I read about it in my diary a few years after Linda died.

--------------

RIP

Linda Duran Watkins 

Nov 1949 - Nov 1982

Capturing

The stories smolder
beneath my thoughts.
I search for my notes,
my misplaced
outlines and plans.
I want to write with
with cohesiveness and flow.

Like a river with the boat
carrying the readers
as though watching
the intricacies of shoreline,
both beauty and muddy,
trees and shadows
capturing smiles, tears,
and that sensation of
"I know what that's like.
I know, and I understand."

I want the reader
to absorb the book with their heart,
because it is my heart I have written,
my heart on the pages.
I want to give away my heart
with my words,
so you know me.


~~~~~~~~
Note: Digital art by Elizabeth Munroz

Let's Kill Cancer!

October 2nd is the anniversary of Lance Armstrong's cancer diagnosis and it will be a global day of action. On this day we gather to celebrate survivorship and commit to working towards a world without cancer.

Host a LIVESTRONG Day event and put it on the map. Raise awareness. Raise funds. Register to create your event page and tell the world.

http://www.livestrong.org/livestrongday

If you can't pull together hundreds of people to organize a big bash, that's okay. Get together with some friends, decorate in yellow, wear the LIVESTRONG wristband and remember those in your lives affected by cancer. Or choose some other significant way to participate with the rest of the world in the plans to kill cancer!

What's a Mother to do?

What's a mother to do? When her first born babe dies at birth... When her kid swallows bleach... or overdoses on aspirin? When her 9 year old son has an ulcer, her little girl goes down to the river and falls into the water?

In that last case, she takes a branch from the willow tree and whups her wet kid on the back of the legs all the way down the middle of the street... all the way home.

She is not to be blamed. She didn't know any better. It was the way she was raised, and disciplining a child was common practice back 60 years ago. People did not call social services for such an act. It was the way things were. She never thought twice about it. She had been so worried when her little one could not be found. She had been horrified when she discovered a boy bringing the wet child home explaining what happened. As she chased her kid with the willow switch the fear and terror chased her as well. And she sobbed as did her child.

What's a mother to do, when her kids steal apples from the farmer's orchard? Or flowers from the next door neighbor's garden or items from the five and dime store? She makes the child return the stolen goods, admit the crime in shame and apologize. That one really works well because of the humiliation factor. The lesson in honesty needs no willow whip.

What's a mother do do when her teen refuses to help out with family chores, when defiance, rolling of eyes, slamming of doors, swear words muttered intending to hurt are the behaviours she has to deal with? Mother is at her wits end and doesn't know what to do but question herself, question her mothering skills, wonder what when wrong, fear for her children that they will turn out all right.

What's a mother to do when her children inherit the same disease she has? At first she denies the possibility until it is so obvious it can no longer be ignored. She irrationally blames herself for passing this disease on to her children. She carries her guilt like a heavy sack of coal on her back, especially because they suffer pain and social stigma because of it.  How could she have prevented this from happening? Not having any kids? There was no birth control back in those days. Though the children know she is not to blame, she carries that shame the whole of her life, no matter how much they reassure her.

What's a mother to do when her kids get married too young, have babies too young, divorce so quickly? What's a mother to do when she discovers that her hereditary condition is the cause of her grown up child's cancer. She privately cries and prays all the while believing God doesn't hear her. She sits in anguish day after day feeling helpless while her child lies there. Lot's of things were different back then. You didn't tell anyone about the "C" word. People thought it was contagious. You became isolated and alone without the support and love of your community. You most certainly did not question the decisions and behaviors of the doctors and nurses back then.

Oh, this is not one of those lovely overdone tributes to Mother's Day. Is it? What Hallmark card would sell such a message?

What can those children do when they grow up, but look back on their childhoods and understand the value through having children of their own and see just how challenging it is to raise a child. They can only look back in wonder and awe when they realize mother had so many children to take care of. How had she managed? How had she kept the house clean, the laundry done? How did she have energy to cook meals and welcome her husband home? How did she do all that and still work part-time labor intensive jobs over the years?

Please don't get me wrong. There's a whole lot I have left out. The good stuff and the really good stuff and the sublime stuff. But, that's for another day.

She said, "You will always be my children, no matter how old you are. When, I'm 80 and you're in your fifties, you will still be my children. I shall worry about you, pray for you, hope the best for you and love you forever."

Terminal Healing

When we come into this world we act out as freely as we want to. As time goes by, we get messages from others that to freely express ourselves is not okay.

Whoever said one must be a "good" (insert name of disease here) patient? What the hell is that anyways? If we be "good" does that mean we get to stay on this planet longer?

I know that there is a LOT of rhetoric about not "being negative" and  "keeping a positive attitude" will help one to have good health and survival. Oh and don't forget organic vegan lifestyle. If you didn't eat it before how is it going to take over and heal you? If you ate it before then why did you get sick? Maybe you like that style of food. But, wouldn't a hot fudge sundae be nice?

If is true that not thinking positive, having a negative attitude, not eating certain food, then I would have been gone a long time ago, because I was a very "bad" cancer patient. My inner child was pissed off. I went against the rules every chance I got, kicking and screaming and swearing at nurses (well, some of them deserved it) and telling people out loud that I had the forbidden "C" word and I was going to die.

Whoa! But those doctors were wrong. Maybe I was close to dying (had two Near Death Experiences), but no one can predict your future, really. Not even a doctor.

I was obsessed and talked about the "D" word to whoever I could get to listen. Most would get out of it, but some were cornered and I probably scared them to death. Those were times when the C word or D word were not discussed. 

I wrote out my will, I don't know how many times. Well, that is, every time I had a recurrence. I really didn't have much to leave, some books, some artwork, some poems, some favorite things. I wrote it out with pencil and paper from a 3 ring notebook; one time leaving my art to my sis, next time to my brother. There was something cathartic in it for me.

Realizing I didn't want a "funeral", just a "wake", a party maybe, where people would play all my favorite music, (wrote that in the will, too) and I went around making people feel uncomfortable when I told them, "Don't buy flowers for me after I am dead, Give them to me now, so I can appreciate them." What a bad girl I was. I can laugh at it now, but I was pretty indignant back then. Why put hundreds, maybe thousands of flowers on a casket that is put into the ground the day they are arranged? It seemed so selfish to me. Love me now, not when I'm dead!

So, when we come into this world and we are cute little babies, we can get pissed off and scream our heads off and let everybody know just how unhappy we are. And we get away with it. We know what we want and when we want it, like, I want that milk, NOW! and yummy that is real good!! and then we are happy for a while, and  then later we are miserable again, or sleepy, or giggly, or sad.... yet free to express whatever we feel. And people love you and care for you and for your feelings.

All I am saying is, I hope you will give yourself the right to feel however you want to feel and don't let anyone else pass judgement on you, and most of all, don't pass judgement on yourself for not being a "good" patient. Be whoever you are!

If it is true that your time on this planet is coming to a close, then why not do what you want? Well, maybe, not use that bludgeon you were thinking of. But, maybe take a stick and beat up the sofa. Listen to the music you want, eat popsicles and pizza or cereal for dinner and pudding for breakfast, wear all mis-matched clothes or draw tattoos on your arm or get out your old Barbies and dress Ken in Drag or your old legos and build castles. And, yes, protect yourself from those who are still stuck in their old ways, if you need to. You have no obligation to keep them in your life. It's your life after all, whatever is left of it, even if it goes long term. Clear out all the things that do not matter to you. It's very freeing to let go.

Take care of that little baby you once were who expressed yourself so freely. And in the meantime grab up all the love you can get for that which is inside you feeling empty, and let it fill your heart until it is overflowing. You will be very surprised as the overflow floods those around you, and whether or not you healed of the disease which might kill you, your heart will be healed with the fullness of love as it grows like a jungle garden. Your love and others intertwined in the leaves healing each other.

Suicide Attempt? or Blessing?

I was a youngster, practically. And I used to cry and moan and twist in pain in my hospital bed, saying "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus," and "Oh, My God"

Now mind you, I was pretty much out of my head not only with the pain, but the morphine they were shooting into me every four... or if they forgot, five or six hours, sometimes later. Some compassionate woman from down the hall, got herself out of bed to come find the one who was calling on God. She found me and proceeded to tell me how she would pray with me and for me. Praise the Lord, thank you Jesus...

Oh, my. I shut my mouth and smiled at her. There was no way I was going to get into a religious argument with her, no way I was going to go through a major guilt and conversion session, and soon she was gone. I was very bitter, and at that time was Atheist. Little did she know that I had been cussing, "taking the Lord's name in vain", otherwise I don't think she would have been so interested in praying with me. I guess I should have said "goddammit", as my Mother would have said if she was hurting.

Doctor MeanGuy had been in that day to tell me the tests showed my bladder was shreds and there was nothing they could do with it, except connect the ureters to my bowel. Of course that would mean a lifetime of E-coli infections and who-knows-what-all backing up into my kidneys.

I knew little medical terminology. But I sure as hell knew bad news when I heard it.

Since I had cancer and wasn’t expected to live anyway, I just thought I would take things into my own hands and get it over with. I was so despondent about what that doctor had said. I had had enough surgeries!!! I had had enough pain and suffering. I had enough of hospitals, doctors and nurses. Enough of living in fear.

Needless to say, the little old Italian woman, Mrs. Calabresi who was in the bed across from me, (four to a room was a luxury in those wards) watched all this with bright eyes. I loved that old woman. I don't know why anymore. Every morning the priest would come in to give her last rites, every afternoon her adult kids would traipse in to see if she had died yet, and quietly leave. Every evening she would attempt chat with us but mostly listened. I didn't know much about her diagnosis except that she had something terribly wrong with the arteries in her legs, ( I think) and she couldn't walk and was expected to make her exit quite soon.

So, that night when I decided to cut the intravenous line and the bladder catheter tubes (one came out of my abdomen) she figured it all out, got out of her bed, and walked over to me. I was so shocked to see this, you'd think Jesus walked on water! Anyhow, she lovingly stroked my forehead, I got tears in my eyes. Real tears not the tears of the frightened girl in pain. And she touched her heart, then my heart, speaking in her broken Itali-nglish. I understood quite a bit, anyhow, as I lived in Niagara Falls. Either you were Italian or Polish, I was neither but heard the languages all my life. Anyhow, she said things like, “you be better, God will help you.” That's the woman I could be honest with. “No, God wont help me, I don’t believe in God, I'm mad at God!”

She completely disarmed me by saying: “You no like God? Tha's okay! Madre di Dio si curerà. God's Mother make better!”

My mind went completely blank... a concept I couldn't conceive, God’s mother? Calabresi had me and she knew it.

"Okay Now? A pregare la Madonna You pray!" I just stared at her. "You pray! I pray!"

I couldn't say no. I would have done anything she asked me. She had a "green scapula" with her. (How it suddenly appeared threw me. Did she have it in her hand all along and I didn't notice. Why, of course!) She held it up for me to see the Blessed Virgin. She showed me the words encircling her picture. Then we said the words together.

"Again!"

We said it again. We repeated it quite a few times. Then she put it in my hands and curled my fingers around it telling me to pray all the time... well, three times a day, ten times over, or maybe it was the other way around. By this time I was hypnotized, and I can't even remember how fervently I did this. Though it really did calm me, and I felt prepared to go beyond, whatever that would be. I still was mad at God and still didn't believe in him. (Yes, yes, an oxymoron, I know, but had little logic back then. Hmmm maybe less now)

Soon the nurses were in there putting in a new IV and one catheter. They couldn't do anything about the one leaking into my abdomen. The doctor would have to repair the damage surgically.

So, that was why I was cutting things. I had scissors, but no razor, so this would take time. Damned nurses. If I had turned that light on needed assistance they never would have come in all night long. Just when you don't want them, they come along and bother you.

So, the next day, they had to take me into emergency surgery. After I woke up Dr. Neisen (the nice one, see? I remember his name after all these years) came in beaming. I was still kind of druggy from the anesthesia but so glad to see him. He said, "I don't know what happened, but your bladder is all in one piece. All we had to do was sew up the hole where your abdominal catheter was located."

Smiling nurses came in to see that I was comfy and all tucked in. When they pulled back the curtain, I could hardly wait to tell Mrs. Calabresi. But her bed was all made up tight as a drum. She and all her belongings were gone. Nobody had to tell me where she had gone.

The next day, I asked for the priest. He came in. I told him about the miracle, and that I wanted to become Catholic. After he asked a few questions he told me no. It was impossible. I was a married woman, on my way to a divorce and previously baptized and confirmed in a non-catholic church. I was pretty insulted. After all, it had been a Catholic miracle. He agreed it couldn’t have been anything less. But that wouldn't make any difference where my soul was concerned.

He left, and then I was REALLY pissed at god!

For a long time after that though, I went to the shrine of Our Lady of Fatima in Youngstown NY, and had some peaceful times. But, I never converted, even after the "rules" got loosened.

This is the tip of the iceberg of how I coped with the diagnosis and surgical challenges. Very badly, until Mrs. Calibresi stepped in. Then, very calmly, because,  “Tha's Okay.” I could always talk to God's Mother.

Negative Positive Polarity

.

Negative

I dislike that word immensely when it is used to suggest that it is not acceptable. We do more harm to ourselves by putting that connotation upon our thoughts and actions.

Sickness, struggles and dying are a natural part of life. If we call that negative, then we are negating ourselves  and all of humanity for experiencing them.

It is okay to say that cancer sucks.

It's okay to say the pain (physical as well as mental) is unbearable.

It's okay to say, "I'm afraid".

It's okay to say, it is time to call hospice.

It's okay to say the truth of what you are feeling without any shame, remorse or guilt. When other people judge us as being too negative about our cancer experience because we aren't fighting hard enough, or succeeding in being healed, they don't know what they're talking about, even if they are our nearest and dearest beloved one.

The worst thing anyone ever said to me during the times when I was barely hanging on, was "If only you believe it, you will be healed!" Not only was it unkind, but damaging.

It made me question whether I had a right to survive, because maybe, I was not trying hard enough, not doing it right, not keeping myself positive, not praying hard enough.

When I see people I care about struggle with these concepts I cringe. Dealing with the diagnosis, and bearing the treatments is enough for us to experience the totally of our humanity.


When we are in the pit of despair, it is okay to say it out loud. "I am in the pit of despair."

"I don't know what else to do."

"I'm not giving up. I'm just facing reality."

Keeping the "negative" feelings stifled is like a cancer in itself.

Shedding myself of these beliefs gave me the right to live whatever life I was to have in freedom. I was released from worrying about other people's judgment on how I was coping with my cancer, and relieved of the guilt I felt that somehow I deserved the cancer, that somehow I wasn't doing things right. That I was wrong to my core.

Once I accepted it's okay for me to voice my personal feelings, first to myself, then to others, whether they agreed or not, that heavy cloud of self-doubt disappeared. Accepting my real feelings, understanding them as a natural part of life, just like falling in love and giving birth, the sun shining and rain falling from the sky is what helped me to cast off the concept of judging myself for what I was experiencing.

I have had four people in my personal life, who have dealt with cancer in the past few years. One of them died. She fought for her life valiantly, and she was very good at expressing her emotions, whether anyone thought she was being negative or not.

And I daresay, anyone who could possibly believe that one dies of cancer because of expressing one's true feelings will one day understand the error of their judgment, if they should happen to be diagnosed themselves.

I like this definition of Negative:

Electrical polarity (positive and negative) is present in every electrical circuit. Electrons flow from the negative pole to the positive pole. In a direct current (DC) circuit, one pole is always negative, the other pole is always positive and the electrons flow in one direction only. 

Both are needed for the circuit to be complete, to be whole, to flow.


Those who attain perfect wisdom are forever inspired by the conviction that the infinitely varied forms of this world, in all their relativity, far from being a hindrance and a dangerous distraction to the spiritual path, are really a healing medicine.

Why? Because by the very fact that they are interdependent on each other and therefore have no separate self, they express the mystery and the energy of all-embracing love. Not just the illumined wise ones but every single being in the interconnected world is a dweller in the boundless infinity of love.

-Prajnaparmita
From "Buddha Speaks,"
edited by Anne Bancroft, 2000.