Rebeginning

73

7+3=10

1+0=1

I look at each birthday as a restart of a Personal New Year. A perfect time for review of the past 365 days, to look ahead to desires and changes. 73 is certainly not too early to rebegin. To slip into the metaphysical for minute, my age in numerology translates to 10, which is the completion of a cycle, and then 1, beginning again. Both demand chucking outmoded patterns, reforming relationships, and inviting to the party only who or what inspires. I began to wonder about my other “tens/ones”—and calculated that I finished grad school at 28. The year I turned 37 I became abstinent from my two major addictions and opened my private practice. At 55 I was offered a book deal, which brought forth The Courage to Trust. Each of these has created a new identity, requiring that I discard old limits and expand beyond the edge of my comfort zone.

Aging is a gift, not a curse. Not everyone gets to do it, and I never forget to be grateful. It’s not that I cherish the loss of loved ones, forgetting names, and suffering a slower metabolism. I’m just all in with the Stoics’ advice to cope with the inevitable: “amor fati,” or love fate, to “love what is” as Byron Katie translates Buddhist philosophy, or “give thanks in all things” from the Judeo-Christian texts. They all boil down to one thing: stop fighting with reality, surrender and then figure out how work with it.

This 10 feels extra special. My home life has been rearranged for everyone’s happierness. I have a stunning “room of one’s own,” and I’m well over a year out with no cancer, a gift from modern medicine and exquisite support from family and friends. I’ve not written about my cancer. For those outside this tribe, the possessive “my” has to seem odd. But in a way, we on the inside of this journey form a personal relationship with these renegade cells. They are like rebellious teenagers who will not see the wisdom of following the rules, and must be reminded of their place. Mine is called Stage 4 Renal Cell with Metastases to the Liver. Sounds like a heavy metal band, I know. It was bad. And that is the reason I wanted to write about it for this birthday. It’s a gift to you, dear readers who decided to stick with me after the word “cancer”… because there are increasing chances I’ll make it to my next TEN of 82, maybe even 91. I remember when that sounded impossibly OLD, like who could imagine travel and making changes in their 70s, 80s, and beyond? Trust me: life gets more interesting the longer you live, once you stop arguing for “how it should be” versus what shows up. I struggle to include the global as well as personal hurts, fears, and longings in this crucible.

By the way, I don’t feel like I’m living on borrowed time. This is all mine. For however long I get to keep going, there is no time to blow on denial, self-loathing, or waiting for things to get easier in order to take risks and just be happy. For those whose numbers keep climbing, we can tell you young’ns that the challenges are more shocking, and desires and dreams need laser levels of insistence when you can’t just roll with the punches. It takes longer to get up, but determination is everything, and has carried me through two years of surgeries, treatments and their aftermath; the death of a beloved pet; a building project; universal political damnation; Covid x 2; and personal financial upheaval.

I’m more amazed than impressed that I didn’t collapse under it all. Every day I awoke, I learned to be less afraid of others’ opinions of what I should do, and grokked that switching out immediate joys for long-term planning is wise when I might not have much length. I knew, and know, that dying sooner than I’d hoped is an option in the Divine intelligence of it all. When I thought about it, I realized that my obituary would site my age, and people could say “at least she lived a long life.” To reassure myself, and others, I adopted a motto to remind me of this: “I’m too old to die young.” I almost had tee shirts made. Maybe I still will, as I continue to grow ever older.

But clearly, dying isn’t the theme of this birthday blog. Rebeginning means that I opt for living in the moment, planning for short-term joy, pleasure, and meaning. At TEN I’m ejecting the hurts, fears, resentments, and outmoded beliefs, which no longer define me. Being ONE I want a clear pathway for whatever comes next. Join me?

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