Dancing in the Dark

Remember that catchy song “Dancing in the Dark” by Bruce Springsteen? That's been me lately. Let me back up a minute.

When I teach writing, I often talk about being vulnerable. Putting our hearts and passion into our words. No holding back. Writing about the tough stuff. This takes grit and a willingness to be open to feeling a spectrum of pain and joy. When we do this, our readers can feel it, they notice something special. They can heal and transform, and we can too. I feel the same way about life.

In the past six months, I have experienced a breakup, three dear friends die, my great uncle die, a significant set of health challenges, and most recently, the shocking diagnosis that my dear cat and best friend, Jade, who is only 9 years old, had a mass in her lung. The prognosis was not good. All the experts gave her months, maybe a little more if we were fortunate. 

As I moved through all the emotions coming forth, I went for a walk, put my music on shuffle, and sobbed. That's when I heard Bruce's rough voice. What he was singing about wasn't exactly what I was feeling, but the power of music transcends details. In that short song I was reminded that yes, it's dark, but I can still dance. Actually, that's when we need to dance the most.

Yesterday, I took Jade in for her 1-month follow-up since her diagnosis. As I waited for the vet to bring me the results of her latest x-ray, I recalled everything we did the past month - eastern and western approaches to help keep her comfortable. Steroids, meditation, herbs, prayer, shamanic healing, reiki, and lots of love. I decided not to waste this time with her crying, but embrace and play and love her, making each day count. I could cry once she's gone. 

The vet entered the room, "I've got amazing news. Her mass is gone." 

I jumped up from my chair, tears falling hard and fast as I saw the newest x-ray. Her lungs were clear.

"How? What?" I was confused and overjoyed all at the same time.

The vet smiled. "I don't know. It's a miracle."

I am still in shock from the roller roaster of emotions surging through me from these last months and now few days. What have I learned? Whether it's light or dark in our life, we need to keep dancing. The world will keep spinning, the edges and mountains of life will keep coming. Bring your most joyful and loving self to each moment that you can. Just because it looks dark doesn't mean it has to be. Jade has taught me that. 

Lastly, my dearest great uncle Roger La Manna who recently passed, was one of the most positive people I've ever had the fortunate to love. He lived until he was 99, walking miles a day, weight training, painting, and playing the sax in a band up until his last year of life. When peril came his way he would recite this mantra 60-70 times a day, "I'm getting better and better every day in every way." 

I wish that for you. May you get better and better in whatever way you desire. 

See you in the dark,