Living in the Moment

“To most people, the present moment almost doesn’t exist. What they are really interested in is the next moment or the one after that. So, they live always towards the future, they live towards the next moment. Unconsciously, they regard the next moment, the next point in the future that they need to get to, as more important than this moment. They don’t recognize that the future only exists as a thought form. When you always live towards the future, you live your life trapped in a conceptual reality of thought forms which assumes a greater significance for you than the immediate reality of life which is always now. Your life consists entirely of the present moment.” Ekhart Tolle

I began feeling better day after day as the toxins from the chemo left my body. After a year of being free of seizures, I got my drivers license back. I felt as though this was my second chance at life and I decided I was going to live it to the fullest. I told myself I was going to be fearless and say “YES” to everything, “YES” to life.

In the fall of 2011, Marcus and I went to Banff for a much needed get away. It was the first time we left Tristan behind but we knew he was in good hands with my sister. It was one of the greatest times in my life. So wonderful, Marcus and I got tattoos to mark the occasion. We went to beautiful Lake Louis and saw the sparkling turquoise glacier lakes. We hiked up a mountain, which was no easy feat for me. On the way up, Marcus would push me from behind or grab my hand and pull me from the front, anything to get me to the top. After climbing for well over an hour, we finally made it to the top where a little cabin, converted into a tea house awaited us. We found a small table outside under the covered porch and put in our order, tea for me and coffee for Marcus. As we sat there, taking in the beauty that surrounded us, it began to rain. The combination of the ozone from the rain and the oxygen from the evergreen trees was intoxicating. I wasn’t thinking about how I was going to get down or what we were going to do when we reached the bottom. It was a magical moment and I was fully present for every second. I knew it was temporary and I knew, “this too shall pass”.

“Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass. It’s about learning how to dance in the rain.”

My sister Sonja bought me a vision board shortly after my diagnosis. I pinned up all the things I wanted and planned on doing in my life. It is hanging up on my bedroom wall beside my bed so I can look at it every night when I go to sleep and every morning when I wake up. I have a picture of my family in the centre, words of encouragement all around it and pendants I received as gifts from people all over the world.

In the top left corner, there is a picture of a ballerina wearing a tutu and standing on her toes. I have wanted to dance ballet since I was a little girl. In the summer of 2010, a new neighbour moved in across the street. I was outside when she came over and introduced herself to me, her name was Lisa. After chit chatting for a bit, Lisa told me she owned a dance studio. My heart fluttered and I asked her if she had an adult ballet class for beginners. It turned out she had the biggest adult class in the area and said I should join.

After looking at the picture of the ballerina on my vision board every day for over a year, I felt as though this was not a coincidence, this was the universal law of attraction at its best. So, four months after finishing my chemotherapy treatments, I started dancing.

I loved it from the first moment when I slipped on my pink leather ballet shoes and heard the beautiful classical music that filled the room. I knew it was exactly what I was supposed to be doing at that time. Every class filled my heart with joy. I was on cloud nine when I came home and showed Marcus and Tristan what I had learned that day.

“I’m not fearless. I didn’t do it because I’m fearless. I did it in spite of the fact that I was scared to death.” Ellen DeGeneres

Because I had decided to say “YES” to everything, I chose to perform in the year end dance recital. I was so scared to get up on the stage in front of people but I was determined not to let fear hold me back from anything. I pulled my hair up in a bun, put on my ballet slippers and tutu and danced on the stage with the other ballerinas. I knew it was all a part of my healing journey and heck, who am I to argue with the universe? Was I happy that I did it? Yes. Would I do it again? Nope.

Life was wonderful. I had gone back to work, went to a few concerts and a few more family vacations. I was convinced the tumour was a thing of the past. I believed the chemo killed the cancer cells and what was left in my brain was just a mass of dead tissues. I was wrong.

In September of 2012, I had moved up from beginner ballet to intermediate. It was such an exciting time for me. On a Thursday evening, one day before going to New York City with friends for the weekend and moments before I was about to get behind the wheel of my car to go to ballet, the rug was pulled out from beneath my feet once again.

I was in the kitchen, saying goodbye to Marcus and Tristan when out of the blue I had a seizure. Marcus caught me as I was falling to the floor and held me. Tristan knelt beside me, scared. It was a long and painful one but when it was over, the only thoughts I had were how my life would change.
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In complete shock, the three of us sat on the floor for some time. As I looked at Marcus I began to cry. The first words that came out of my mouth were, “no more ballet.”

That night I lost a big part of my independence, I lost my drivers license. I lost my fearlessness of going out because I didn’t know if or when another seizure would strike again. I lost a little piece of joy within me and replaced it with worry. I had to ask myself, was something changing in my brain for this to have happened?

Wherever  you are, or whatever you are doing, be happy in that moment, for you never know what awaits you in the next.

Yours for the moment,

Linda xoxo