Out of the Fog

Into the fog in Wales (Offa's Dyke Trek)

Long days of trekking ensure exposure to almost every weather event that you may imagine -- sometimes all on the same day!  One meteorological phenomenon that always seems guaranteed to change my perspective is fog.  Fog has the ability to confuse, confound, mystify and seduce the trekker.  It also has the ability to clear the chaos and deliver focus when we need it most.

When I encounter fog on any trek, to include on this unexpected journey, I tend to recall a (leadership) metaphor used by a presenter at a workshop and coach training session I attended in Sonoma, CA, circa 2006 (the date is keen here, I think, as it is pre-iPhone with all the distractions of instant communication and information access/overload the device would herald).  The presenter led us in visualizing a driver approaching a foggy patch.  The fog-faced driver, we agreed, likely would turn off the car radio, put down that soft drink he or she may have been sipping, slow driving speed, lean into the windshield and focus straight ahead -- thereby enhancing the driver's ability to navigate the fog with deliberate and appropriate action for reaching a destination (read: goal).  A sensual narrowing was what he suggested has to happen for leaders (and we all are leaders in some aspect of our lives) to realize specific, well-defined goals. 

Fog in the Alps (Haute Route)

This fog-restricted view, I find, also can elevate our trekking experiences and true our journey.  In the presence of fog, we slow our progress.  We become aware of choirs of birds -- their songs lifted by accompaniment of percussive, wind-rattled tree limbs.  We breathe deeply the scent of a moss-covered path, wafting a sweet woodland perfume that settles into our amygdala holding safe the memories of the trek until again the scent arises (likely worlds or years away).  We become acutely aware of the ground beneath our auto-pilot feet, turning our restricted view to the lustrous rocks and shiny pebbles glistening on our dewy path. 

Trekking through a fog can promote a new levels of awareness and presence -- to say nothing of their renewal when at last we emerge from the fog. 

World's best trekking crew: Isle of Skye    

I know I definitely experienced some fog-focus on the unexpected journey in the weeks immediately before (in anticipation of) and after (for concentrated recovery from) my February surgery.  Fighting my cancer, which already felt like a full-time job for me between August and November, transformed into an all-consuming quest between the end of November (when my scans and markers indicated my curative surgery candidacy) and 3 February, when they rolled me into the surgical suite to remove my liver tumor.  Every present moment intensified: Tracking my vitals, recording my nutrition, preparing with an absolute focus to arrive for surgery as fit and strong as possible.  With the guidance of my pro-med/surg team and the support and love of my warrior network, this unique awareness and presence was soul-filling and strength-building.

And joy in the emergence from that fog?  Yes, yes, yes!

This week (Week Two, Treatment Cycle 10) finds me walking out of the fog with feelings of liberation, exhilaration and determination.  Suddenly I am charging down switchbacks with gusto -- plummeting toward the rushing Apurimac River in Peru; bounding across a grassy slope toward a reservoir in the center of England; descending a Scottish Munro in a knee-hammering tussock tumble -- all the while thrilled by my unrestricted views of wellness and health.

My gratitude is magnified.  I follow every energizing meditative inhalation with an abundant life-sharing exhalation that puts energy back into the universe.  The rhythm of the dance slides into my limbs without thought -- and produces a soul-rocking lullaby of healing.

Oh the fog!  Oh the release!

Quote of the Day:

“In nature, everything has a job. The job of the fog is to beautify further the existing beauties!”                                                  ~Mehmet Murat ildan

Progress:

On my treadmill at sunset

• Week One, Cycle Ten was rough ('nuff said).
• Working hard to manage chemo-induced neuropathy (for me, numbness) in my hands and feet (exercise, massage, warm bathes . . .)
•  I am back on the treadmill committed to rebuilding my strength and endurance.
• We are dancing to:  Tina Turner (Simply the Best -- my homage to Cliff), Michael Franti (I'm Alive -- of course!), Imagine Dragons (Top of the World - it's that won-the-lottery feeling set to music).  
• I'm still following my angiogenesis-defense nutrition plan to starve my cancer.  (I encourage you to check out Eat to Beat Disease, by Dr. William W. Li (MD)).  It's packed with fact-based research that clearly is explained and easily is applied in making everyday nutritional choices and plain in addressing how those choices can counter/battle illness to include cancer, diabetes, cardiovascular disease, cognitive decline and auto-immune diseases.
• Then I'm doubling down on starving cancer with fenbendazole (first dosage round, complete).
• While my surgical incision still is healing, I continue to meditate, practice self-hypnosis, read, cook, connect with pals, be joyful and optimistic in order to stay fit for the fight, whatever tomorrow brings.

Via Francigena, 2020!