CANCER AND BEYOND . A PERSONAL JOURNEY . PART IV

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I gaze at my ancient hand and marvel at its 13.7 billion years of history, right back to the Big Bang. I try to imagine the faces of my ancestors, the mighty rivers and tropical continents they explored, and the animals and plants that sustained them.

Talk about elder wisdom.

Before my human form, perhaps I resembled a chimpanzee? An alligator? Or even a snake?

Further back, I may have been a fishapod or a complex slime mould. And at the dawn of our solar system, courtesy of a dying sun, I must have been a glorious atom, pregnant with an infinity of future species.

I have trillions upon trillions of ancestors and their genes live on inside me.

They have not died and I am not alone.

And what’s more, I’m a relative giant!

Human beings fall midway on the size scale between the very big and the very small. The universe around me is unimaginably vast, but so is the microscopic universe inside my body. I house countless galaxies under my skin, and they depend on me to live in a healthy, peaceful manner.

But a year ago, I was not so convinced.

Breast cancer, diverticulitis and a hysterectomy left me stranded on a hot, dry beach gasping for air, like my fishy ancestors.

Death scared me. I felt isolated in a meaningless universe.

And God as a supernatural parent-figure had imploded into a black hole. I thought I’d given up that image of God a long time ago, but my brush with death showed me how deep is the desire to cling to an all-powerful, all-knowing Being.

As I convalesced, I devoured books on cosmology, quantum physics and life after death. In the quiet of my study during a dark and chilly Victoria winter, I listened to online interviews with scientists and spiritual teachers from around the world as they reflected on the evolution of our universe through its endless cycle of creation-destruction-creation.

I began to see with deep-time eyes. Terry’s cancer took its place on a far bigger canvas.

I had the privilege of hearing Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh in person last August at UBC during a five day silent retreat. “We live in a world of inter-being,” he explained gently as he led us through rituals to honour our ancestors.

Who am I to doubt the value of my existence after countless beings have struggled so hard to survive and pass on their genetic wisdom?

Not one of them died childless – how amazing! I am their child of the moment. I come from courageous, determined stock, like all beings alive today.

Now when I doubt myself or the universe (and I still do sometimes),

I try to remember that I’m a plural verb, not a singular noun, breathing in mighty rivers of life, energy and love.

Slowly, very slowly, I’m learning not to cling to the notion of Terry as an isolated, permanent self – the fishapod returns to the ocean.

And nothing is ever lost, only transformed.

Even material sucked into a black hole continues, according to physicists who embrace string theory.

I’m here on this planet for an infinitesimal flash in time to simply experience, learn, enjoy and serve.

And when I die, I’ll just be part of everything.

(END)

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By Terry Dance-Bennink . First Published in Island Gals Magazine . 2011 . Volume 1 . Issue 4

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