In Order to See Birds . . .

. . . it is necessary to become part of the silence.  ~Robert W. Lynd

On the trekking trail, there is a lovely place of quiet that keens visual acuity.  It exists in the silent walking when there is space between trekkers and all chatter falls aside.  It also exists in the most companionable of moments between experienced trekking partners who need no words to communicate.

This practice of silent observation has enabled Cliff and me to collect vivid avian memories from the trail:  From the boot-eating (or really, anything-eating) Kia in New Zealand, to the (huge) sacred bird of Tibet -- the Lammergeier (perhaps best known for its practical and mythical (angelic) role in Sky Burials), to the world's largest flying bird -- the Andean Condor (regarded as a sun deity) that we sited on the way to the Choquequirao Ruins in Peru -- it is truly in the quiet of the walk that we see, truly see, the birds . . .

And yesterday morning on our walk (yep, I've managed the 3.5 mile up and down, dirt road loop of our community twice in as many days), our quiet was rewarded by the whistles and jeers of jays darting from pinon to cedar along the route at about the two-mile mark.  A bit further along, the delicate cheeps of finches so small as to perch on slender blades of tall grass caught our attention.  And as we continued quietly, presently, companionably, we celebrated the sight (though heard not a call nor rasp) of a single magpie we believe to be half of a mating pair that has frequented our property since early spring.  (I've grown to regard these magpies as good luck.)

The Unexpected Journey, too, is full of these awareness-raising, gift-giving observations born of a slower, more quiet life: Lingering over my breakfast tea to relish the morning light; watering my plants slowly with complete presence and celebrating new leaves, buds and height; sewing with absolute focus on the recipient of a project and my gratitude for our connection.  These moments (or moments like these) never were really out of my reach before now.  They never had to be reserved for experiences in far away lands and dedicated time frames.  It was my willingness to become a part of the silence that often was missing.  I could have done it, could have been more fully present.  I chose rather to surrender to the struggle of place and time -- pushing much action into the realm of the perfunctory.

How many birds did I miss in the business of getting things done?  It is a simple fact that for most of my life I've most valued my ability to "get things" (lots of things) "done" -- often simultaneously (read, quite often mindlessly).  For me, now, I find it soul-quenching to partake fully of a single experience rather than to get to the end of any day full of self-congratulations for all I have accomplished.  Surely, my schedule is unique to my circumstance.  However, this awakening need not wait for a crisis boost.  If this seems inaccessible to the busiest among us, I think the key is in quantity.  Pick one action (any one) each day.  Become part of the silence, fall into the place between space and time -- then look and listen for the birds.

Quote of the Day:

Overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now.

                                                                  ~Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Progress Report:

• This is an off-treatment week.  When we met last week with Dr, Rixe, we reviewed all the input and recommendations of Dr. Hooper (Integrative Medicine Physician) and Dr. Winters (Naturopathic Oncologist).  Dr. Rixe concurred with all recommendations except the timing for a treatment break.  My targeted therapy will continue into August before a break, which we hope will be launched with a clean scan.
• I now take a couple handfuls of supplements each day, which variously are directed toward boosting immunity, normalizing hormones, normalizing angiogenesis, detoxing the liver, fortifying the micro-biome and on and on . . ..   
• I've begun intravenous high-dose Vitamin C therapy two days a week, not only to boost immunity, but also to fight one of my particular cancer mutations.  This approach synergistically interlocks with one of my targeted drugs to fight that mutation, and to isolate and kill the other type of cancer cell targeted by my conventional therapy.  How cool is that?  If you want to learn more about this therapy, check out this National Cancer Institute link: https://www.cancer.gov/research/key-initiatives/ras/ras-central/blog/2020/yun-cantley-vitamin-c
• Mistletoe therapy continues with a focus on boosting my immune system for this sustained fight.  We still are tweaking the doses to get just the right reaction.  I think (just within the last three or four days) I'm feeling increased energy as a result of this effort.  Cliff (or as he insists upon being called, "Dr. Cliff") is getting pretty deft with those needles! 
• The Therapeutic Ketogenic Nutrition Plan continues.  For those foodies among us, this is a bit of a spoil-sport.  But hey, I'd be happy to do this for the rest of a long life. 
• Our household remains happy, balanced and grateful.  We appreciate all of our time together and little acts of kindness adorn each day.  We slay the New York Times Super Bee, jump in the pool each afternoon and laugh with an easiness born of the present.  And yes, we always see the birds!

Via Francigena!