October MRI Completed

Just finished the MRI. Time in the tube really gets you thinking. To stop myself from worrying (especially when I can feel the contrast dye make its' way into the tumor cavity which terrifies me) I spent time repeating my mantra, "thank you, thank you, thank you". I forgave myself for not being able to eat healthy all the time. I forgave myself for not working out enough. I forgave myself for not being perfect. And I spent the rest of the time swollen with gratitude. I am so grateful for this life, this husband, this family - immediate and married into, I'm grateful for our amazing friends. I'm grateful to have a home to live in. I'm grateful that I'm capable of so much, like bending my body at yoga. I'm grateful to be alive, to be here on Earth. I'm grateful all the time, for everything. It's probably annoying, but it certainly makes me really happy even when life is unsure. I guess the thing I've learned recently, perhaps just now as I write this, is that you don't have to have answers to be happy. You don't have to have everything be good news, or the best life situation. Just by being grateful, and forgiving myself for my downfalls, my humanness, keeps me happy. What a cool ability, to have control of our minds. 

Keeping Connected

Do you ever feel like you're living a movie? I do. And yesterday was the most hilarious illustration of it. I had a doctor's appointment in Ballard, so for the first time, I packed up my venom and secured it into the basket of my bike. I strapped on my too-tight helmet that I borrowed from my friend Meghan, and I started out on my ride. I had yet to ride on the street, so far I had only ridden at the park under Dan and Emma's watchful gaze. I wobbled on my squeaky bike, cool breeze on my face, passing block after block. There are probably a billion different ways to get down to Ballard from Green Lake, but being a newbie biker, I decided to punch the address into my Iphone so that she could just give me voice instructions as I peddled. I don't know if she sensed that I ate carrot cake the night before, but she picked the hardest hill, and since I was distracted sniffing all the sweet air reminding me that it's jamming season, I didn't have the opportunity to reroute, and before I knew it I was in serious trouble. Quads were burning, face flushed, a man even stepped out from his landscaping to ask playfully if I was going to make it. I hollered back over my shoulder, "I doubt it, this was a horrible idea!" I caught his big smile, and I pushed harder, lungs on fire. Luckily it was a quiet street so I could eventually wind back and forth like a sedated snake. At the top, from several blocks below I barely heard behind me, "Woo hoo! I knew you could do it!" I tossed a wave, and laughed. I couldn't help but absorb the charm of living life slow, the difference between driving everywhere and walking, or pedaling, and how connected it keeps us as humans.

That big hill was just the beginning of the trip, and as I was timid, afraid of cars, I found drivers stopping where there was no stop sign, just to let me cross over busy streets. Me on my rickety rusty buddy. It was amazing. I was having so much fun peddling all around Seattle, re-energized by the niceness of people. Other bikers probably sensed my newness, but I couldn't help but smile and laugh and soak up the experience. I checked out streets I'd never seen, saw plants I'd never known existed, read crazy Seattle homemade signs. (I love us, but we're weird up here.)

Isn't it fun how the littlest things can make you laugh for days? Even in the midst of a crazy life, even when dealing with heavy topics, life always has a way of balancing things out. It's beautiful.