The Battle of our Lifetimes

Since the day I was diagnosed with cancer, I was tossed into battle against some of the strongest forces known to present day man. I stood by myself against the most powerful institution in America—the medical industry; I fought uphill against pharmaceutical companies and doctors. What´s more, I went head first into war with my own demons, which, in a lot of ways, is harder than fighting the demons of the western medical world. But of all the battles I have fought, one of the most challenging has been the one against my own mother.

My mom is an oncology nurse, and works in the very field that I rejected entirely in order to seek a deeper healing on the soul level. I have little faith in the type of medicine that she practices, and she has a hard time fully agreeing with the type that I practice, consequently dividing us over a matter that we, as a mother and daughter, should never have to argue about: my life.

This clash in beliefs has continued since the day that we sat in that sterile doctor´s office together as a bald, stiff-necked man in a white lab coat told me in a monotone voice and emotionless face that the lump in my throat was not, in fact, benign. I didn´t hear anything after he said the word “cancer.” But my mom held on to the details and numbers as if the syllables themselves could save me. I spent the following week in a tumultuous internal battle between following the strongly recommended advice of my mother and doctor, or listening to the voice that was screaming from within myself to find another way. When I told her I had made the decision to decline chemotherapy and follow my soul, it felt like the world crumbled around us as we began the battle of our lifetime with tears in our eyes and weight on our hearts.

However, since I have been practicing this medicine of love day in and day out for several months now, I have come to see that this is not actually a battle that we are engaging in, but a dance—a waltz in which both of us want to lead, but neither of us know the steps. This is a dance that we have done for many lifetimes and I believe that this is our opportunity to finally clean ourselves of this karmic pattern. Perhaps for now we dance separately, until the time comes when our steps harmonize, allowing fluidity and peace to replace the once unsynchronized movement of our moral disagreement.

That day is coming soon. Against the probabilities, my mother is coming to Bali to visit me in the ashram not only see, but participate in the healing practice that has saved my life. She will experience the profound transformational therapy that I have lived and breathed for that last four months of my life. This is tearing down the wall that I tried to demolish since the beginning, helping her to see that my healing looks different than the way she saw it happening. But this outcome will be most fruitful since I have listened to the guidance of the only doctor that knows how to heal me best: my soul. I don’t expect this to change her medical beliefs, but I know that once she experiences the magic of this practice she will be able to believe in the miracles that happen here everyday. I am one of them.