Hey there… How are you? It has been a reflective day for me. I had a full article written about Cultivating Rest and how to do so. But since I have learned to listen to whatever is showing up in the moment, I wanted to share a few thoughts on Cultivating Meaning.
My friend died from brain cancer this morning. She was 51. I met Kerri Grote at camp Good Life Project, a real camp for adults, we both attended every year from 2014 -2018.
She was warm, kind, generous, spunky and just had a spark about her. We would geek out for hours about social justice, love, music and being heart-centered in what sometimes felt like a difficult world for empaths. She had reached out to me recently praising me for my positive posts and we shared about loving and missing each other.
She died unexpectedly this morning and she left words to be shared after her death. Instead of sharing my words on cultivating meaning, I wanted to share hers below. I will share mine next time. Life is short. If there is anything you need to do, do it now. Call the friend, enroll in the class, forgive yourself, invest in that dream, say “I love you.”, join the band, eat the pie as Kerri would say… (Don’t forget, Registration for the last Dare to Lead workshop of the year ends on Sept 17th! Sign up here (http://yvonneator.com/dtlvirtualwkspsept2021) .) Enjoy your week. Rest In Peace Kerri.
“If you’re reading this, this fu$king brain cancer probably got me.
But let me be crystal clear while I’m able: I did not ”lose a battle” against cancer. This is a ridiculous, steamy pile of horse shit that society has dumped on cancer patients. Western medicine, and Western culture, especially, is so uncomfortable talking about death that instead it created this “battle” analogy that basically shames people who die from cancer.
News flash: None of us gets out alive from this rodeo called life.
There is no shame in dying from cancer – or any serious illness. And it doesn’t need to be a battle. It’s a transition that each of us will go through. I was asked by a shaman, whom I spoke to after my second brain surgery, “Are you running towards life or running away from death?”
Whoa! That got my attention.
There’s a BIG difference. I got it wrong more often than not.
Don’t let fear fuel your choices. Live fearlessly. Run TOWARDS life. Don’t worry about what people will think. Trust me, it doesn’t matter.
Focus on you. Be true to yourself. Be your own best friend. People who tell you you’re selfish are not your people. If the voice in your head says these unkind things, get a new voice. Honor your mental health and seek out a good therapist with the same vigor you’d search for a romantic partner.
Speaking of, be intentional about cultivating friendships that lift you up. As those friendships grow and change, don’t overlook them while you search for that “great love of your life.” (No, I’m not suggesting you sleep with your bestie. But you do you!)
Another unhelpful message that we get from society is that we need a “love of our life,” as a romantic partner.
Single and childless when I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, I looked around my life and came up sputtering and sobbing from the wave of grief washed over me. I thought I’d be doing this alone… no husband, no kids, no “great love.”
How wrong I was. At the first appointment with my neuro oncologists, one of the nurses diligently hauled in chair after chair for the great loves of my life who came with me that horrible day and many days after that.
I sat and listened while the doctor explained the 12-month treatment plan, focusing on my breathing, then looked around the room…. filled with great loves of my life: incredible women friends whom I had met at various stages of my life.
Surround yourself with people who contradict that unkind voice, people who see your light, and remind you who you are: an amazing soul.
Learn how to receive these reflections from your people. Because they are speaking the Truth.
Love yourself, no matter how weird and silly it might feel. Every morning, give yourself a hug before your feet hit the floor. Look deeply into your eyes in a mirror. Say to yourself, out loud, “I trust you.” That voice in your head might say you’re a dork. Ignore it.
As I prepare to leave this body and embark on this mysterious journey of my soul, I hope these observations from my deathbed are somehow useful.
What I know, deep in my bones, is that learning to love myself has led me to be able to say this: I’m so proud of how I lived.
May you, dear reader, feel the same when you head out on your soul journey, too. Until then, enjoy the ride. And always eat dessert first, especially if there’s pie!”
– Kerri Grote