Honestly I’ve started and stopped writing this email at least three times. Not only have I not written anything to you in several months (aside from my newsletter last week), but now that I am, it’s incredibly hard to get my thoughts focused.
It’s that “I don’t know where to begin” paralysis.
So how about this: right now, my daughter Lexi is sitting on the bed with me eating chocolate covered strawberries. I’m laying down with bloody drains coming out of my side, trying to take as little pain medication as possible. I just had a mastectomy.
Every day this week, my friends have been bringing my family meals. It’s only the fifth day after surgery and already my refrigerator is stuffed full. My bestie Jen sent the chocolate strawberries. I have bouquets of flowers surrounding my bed and heaps of cards on my table.
And part of me wants to text everyone and tell them to stop sending things and bringing food, because I’m fine goddamit, and then another part of me reminds me that I still need help just putting my clothes on, or brushing my hair.
I know this might be a surprise. People who live a “straight and narrow holy life” aren’t supposed to get things like cancer, are they?
I remember feeling the same way when Wayne Dyer, my radio cohost for many years, got leukemia. And when Debbie Ford, another friend, got cancer. And when Jerry Hicks got cancer.
It doesn’t make sense. Yet of course it does make sense, if we only had the wherewithal to know what was really going on Upstairs.
Nevertheless, I’m going to save the “why I manifested cancer” epistle for another post, because instead I need to explore something more immediate that’s popped up that I’m struggling to understand in terms of Flow, which is how to receive.
Yep, that old bad boy, coming around for yet another round.
What an irony, I think, that I’ve practiced the art of Flowdreaming and manifesting to where I create some truly dazzling things, but even so, here I am rubbing up again against that same ceiling.
You know how I found it this time?