March 17th 2020. Today the luck of the Irish has faded.

Is it possible to keep optimism alive as humanity suffers a great deal? Can we be so bold as to smile again and to be thankful for this precious life we have been given? This life was always just borrowed time from the universe. How do we keep the spirit alive, the light a flame, and the embers smoking?

I can only speak for myself. But I have to dig deep and plunge into my inner well of memories, and recall a lifetime of blessings. This life is beautiful. And maybe Mama Earth is just trying to heal herself from the plaque of humanity. I see the images from Venice, and the waters are crystal clear and beautiful. The smog has lifted from our skylines. I can hear the birds clearly, without the rumble of distant highways. There is global peace descending on us, like a gifted veil. And the silver lining of our human destiny lies deep within the hearts of all of us.

I want someone to blame or something to punch. I want my anger at my cancer to cut thru the fog of chemo, and pierce my mental bubble. I want the lives of my family and friends to extend past this pandemic so that we can all look back on our life’s with reverence and gratitude.

Our planet will heal itself in time. She is in great pain at the moment and losing her grasp. So let’s reach out to her and hold her hand for a change. Isolate and quarantine your bodies, but let your hearts and spirits soar. Elevate your perspective. Share rather than hoard. Love thy neighbor, from a 6′ distance of course. And pick one informed and unbiased news source, and turn the rest OFF. Take this time to savor the miracle of our planet. When I found out I had brain cancer, I thought there was no way in hell I could experience a worse predicament. And yet here I am. Here we are.

No matter what, I know that my fortress is strong. Platelet counts don’t dictate my mood. The sudden risk of viral infection will not alter my mind. I am strong. I am grounded. I have roots deep on this earth and the winds may bend and sway my branches, but they will not break. I have work left to do. And deeper roots to grow before this tree of life is done. So wash your hands, play your part, and keep on moving. I choose love. Fear is dead.

3 Replies to “March 17th 2020. Today the luck of the Irish has faded.”

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