On my personal D-Day, I found myself lying on a cold exam table while a nurse named Mildred passed an ultrasound scanner across my belly. Piercing abdominal cramps and shortness of breath had forced me back to my primary care doctor. It was the same pain I had felt for three years, only magnified.
The nurse’s distressed look forced me to ask her what she saw. “I can’t tell you that,” she sternly replied. “You’ll have to speak with the doctor.” Okay, I could wait a few more minutes. In walked the doctor. “The surface of your liver is covered with about a dozen lesions,” he said. I had no idea what that meant. I thought lesions meant cuts and I wondered how I’d cut my liver. Yes, I regularly enjoyed a few cocktails and other recreational substances, but wasn’t this an extreme result of a few indiscretions?
Then he clarified things for me. The lesions were tumors, a twelve-pack of terror that made the ultrasound images of my liver look like Swiss cheese. But that wasn’t all; about ten more tumors were in my lungs. And get this, the cancer (a rare sarcoma) was completely inoperable, no surgery, radiation, chemotherapy, and — here’s the knockout punch — no known cure. Pass the Chardonnay!
In an instant I went from being a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, to being a young sick woman who didn’t know how long she had to live or if her life would ever be normal again.
Second and third opinions, along with endless hours at the University of Google, followed. I quickly learned that illness was a business, and if I wanted to successfully navigate Hurricane Cancer, I needed to learn how to step up to the plate and advocate for myself. Goodbye Broadway. Hello CEO of Save My Ass Technologies, Inc.! I was suddenly the CEO of my health, and the doctors worked for me.
There were a few qualified applicants, as well as a bunch of duds. The doctor who suggested a triple organ transplant was rejected immediately. I mean, how rude! The one who gave me ten years to live didn’t get the job either. Though my disease was advanced, it generally presents in three different ways: aggressive from the start, slow growing (I prayed for that version) and slow growing that becomes aggressive over time. Because I didn’t know which version I had, pulling out organs, blasting my body with chemicals, or dying seemed a bit premature.
I traveled everywhere searching for my second in command and finally found him. Honestly, if it weren’t for my oncologist, I might not be here today. And guess what he confirmed? The cancer was slow moving, so in essence I had the one thing all cancer patients long for — time. This great news allowed me to choose a radical course of treatment: Do nothing. My oncologist agreed. “We’ll take a watch-and-wait approach,” he said. “Let cancer make the first move.”
Great! But how about a watch-and-LIVE approach? And what if I made the first move? If I couldn’t be cured, could I still be healthy? Could I redefine wellness to include someone like me? Perhaps instead of calling it cancer, I would call it an imbalance. And what if
I could find the source of the imbalance? Maybe, just maybe, I could help my body by participating in health rather than contributing to disease. Clearly, I had a lot to learn, but I started to breathe again. The joy came back, and curiosity started bubbling.
This wouldn’t be my battle: It would be the greatest adventure of my life.
Through deep exploration and experimentation, I met my Inner Physician. She’s very smart and highly intuitive (just like yours). The prescription she offered was quite simple. “Gently renovate your life, kiddo. Learn to take self-care seriously. You’re worth it. It’s time to rest, replenish and renew. You have the power to create a life beyond your wildest dreams — even with cancer. Trust me, let’s go.” God I love her! Don’t you?
Whole Foods literally became my new pharmacy. Did I know what I was doing when I first started? No way! I would race around the store frantically filling shopping carts with books, videos, supplements, powders, potions, and every piece of organic produce I could get my hands on. Kale? Okay! It was dark green and leafy, so it must be good for me. Yet in the back of my mind I wondered what the heck I’d do with this scary looking weed. If the cancer didn’t kill me, this plant certainly might.
Over time I got the hang of it and fell in love with the kitchen. Like many people, I had no idea that this anti-inflammatory way of eating — filled with endless vitamins, minerals, phytochemicals, antioxidants and more — could be so very delicious. Caring for myself became a spiritual pursuit, rather than a pesky drag. Practices like meditation helped me deal with the wild animals in my head. Regular exercise became my stress release valve. And sleep transformed into a holy, non-negotiable, practice.
Did I mention that I quit my acting career? The new me craved something greater. I had spent too many years pretending to be someone I wasn’t, getting endless rejection and beating myself up for not being good enough. When I learned to value my health, I realized that I had outgrown my career. It just wasn’t right for my rhythm. Something better would come if I got out of the way and did the soul work.
Ten years later, I’ve been blessed to be able to reach thousands of health seekers through my books, film and website. Helping people all over the world has filled my life with both meaning and gratitude — the best medicine. While I still have cancer, it continues to be stable. That may change one day, but I don’t focus on “one day.” Today is what matters and today I feel better than ever before. Best of all, I’m happy.
We all have something in our lives that we wish we could change. And we each get to decide whether or not we will allow that something to hold us down. Let your obstacle become your mentor. Let your pain become your opportunity. Some form of suffering is inevitable. It’s how we deal with the suffering that matters. Will you let it devour you or will you ride it straight into the brightness?
No one will give you permission to live. Change now. Love now. Live like you really mean it right now. That permission is your birthright, hot stuff; grab it!
~Kris Carr
Adapted by the author from her book Crazy Sexy Diet by Kris Carr. Copyright © 2011 by Kris Carr.
Used by permission of skirt!, an imprint of Globe Pequot Press.
There Is Nothing Wrong with You
No one remains quite what he was when he recognizes himself.
~Thomas Mann
The following story describes one of the most poignant and tender moments of my life.
I met Peter at a summer camp for the Royal National Institute of Blind People in Hampshire, England. Peter was in my class. I was teaching a day on self-esteem to 50 teenagers. They were like any large group of teenagers in school — creative, unruly, funny, boisterous, challenging, and very energetic. They were normal... and blind.
Peter was one of the few quiet ones. He sat at the back of the class. He was half-Chinese, half-English, about 15 years old, tall, and slender. There were many jokes flying around, most of them at my expense. Peter laughed heartily, but he never spoke. At the end of the class, he stayed behind.
“Mr. Holden,” he said. “Call me Robert,” I said. “Can we talk?” he asked. “Certainly.”
Peter looked troubled. He was pensive and painfully shy. We talked small talk for a while as we walked around a large green sports field out behind the main college building.
“I feel I can trust you Robert, even though we’ve only just met,” he said.
“That’s a real compliment,” I said.
“I need to ask you a question that I have been putting off my whole life,” Peter said.
I was in no way prepared for Peter’s question when it finally came.
“I need to know,” he said, “is there anything wrong with me?” “What do you mean?” I asked.
“I was born blind, and I have never seen myself. I need to know from someone I trust if I am beautiful or not,” Peter said.
With all my heart, I told Peter that he was handsome, perfect, and beautiful.
“You really mean it?” he asked.
“Yes — totally.”
Peter flung his arm
s around me.
“There’s nothing wrong with me?”
“No!”
“Not even a little bit wrong?”
“Not one bit.”
“What about my breath? I had pizza for lunch,” he laughed.
“I love garlic,” I countered.
We both laughed and cried. Rarely have I felt so moved. Peter’s relief was such a joy to watch.
For six years I trained in a profession that focuses on finding things wrong with people. We take in “ugly ducklings” and merrily pluck away for disorders, dysfunctions, neuroses, psychoses, syndromes, and schemas. Psychology is obsessed with diagnosis. Every day we invent new labels, new diseases, and new courses of treatment for the “ugly ducklings.” We never see them as swans.
The fear that something is wrong with you is your greatest block to joy. In truth, there is no other block. For as long as you feel there is something wrong, bad, lacking, or not good enough about you, your life will reflect this belief. On the face of it, it will look as though others reject you, the world blocks you, fate is unkind, life is against you, and the Heavens are punishing you. But in fact, it is you who are condemning yourself and sabotaging all that is good. Hence everything is a struggle, successes are hard-fought, happiness is short-lived, love always goes wrong, and there is no peace.
There is nothing wrong with you. Certainly, your perception can be sick. And your thinking can be off. And you can make poor choices. For instance, you can choose to see flaws in yourself that no one else sees. You can invent a story of how bad you are. You can try to convince the world how unlovable you are. Give these strange ideas all of your power, if you want, but who you are — your Unconditioned Self — remains whole, worthy, and well.
True psychotherapy is a process of changing your mind about yourself. Shift happens whenever you practice unconditional self-acceptance. Shift happens whenever you give yourself a break. Shift happens whenever you choose kindness instead of judgment, forgiveness instead of self-attack, and laughter instead of condemnation. Life always gets better when you treat yourself better.
The final (and only) act of healing is to accept that there is nothing wrong with you.
~Robert Holden
From Shift Happens: How to Live an Inspired Life... Starting Right Now! © 2011 by Robert Holden.
Published by Hay House; available at www.hayhouse.com.
The Wise Monk
Respect yourself and others will respect you.
~Confucius
In my own life, I think one of the best examples of transparency and not taking myself too seriously came from an experience I had at a Buddhist temple here in Los Angeles. Back when I was first seeking on the personal growth and spiritual path, I was soaking up all kinds of different modalities and ways to calm my mind and get clear. For a period of time, I was really into Buddhist meditation, both Vipassana (I once went on a 10-day retreat and left after five ’cuz it was so intense) and chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo.
Well before I discovered these two different types of meditation, I came across a Buddhist temple in downtown Los Angeles. I found it through Yelp or Google, and decided to attend one of their dharma talks and meditations. I went, and the main monk gave a talk about dharma and the idea of being unattached to things, as well as many other Buddhist principles. I was totally engaged in the conversation and soaking up the wisdom from this man, who seemed to be a living sage. After the talk, we did a 20- or 30-minute closed eye meditation, which I thoroughly enjoyed. After the meditation, the session was over and the 30 or so people who were there started to disperse.
But being the seeker that I am, I decided to go up and talk with the monk and his other monks and I started asking all kinds of questions. Before I knew it, the morning was gone and it was lunchtime.
So, the robed and shaven-headed monks extended an invitation to me to come to lunch. I JUMPED at the idea because now I was REALLY going to get the inside scoop on all the sage wisdom these guys could offer me. I am a SPONGE for wisdom, so anytime I get around people who have something wise to share, I am all ears!
So I went out to my car and followed a small car packed with four REALLY Buddhist monks. I was so psyched because I felt like I was about to discover some amazing vegan or vegetarian dive restaurant in downtown L.A. And as we kept driving, my excitement grew and grew and grew. Where were these guys going? It was probably going to be awesome. So as we were driving, I saw their car pull into a parking lot. But I couldn’t believe my eyes. Why in the world would four Buddhist monks pull into a Sizzler?
That’s right — I was led to Sizzler by four shaven-headed, robe wearing, dharma talking, Buddhist monks. I couldn’t believe it. I thought it must have been because their salad bar was so cheap. I mean after all, if you are a monk, you are not making six figures, so maybe we weren’t going to eat at an amazing dive bar. Maybe we were just going to have a modest vegetarian salad from the Sizzler salad bar. I was cool with this. I didn’t really care; I just wanted the wisdom.
So as we made our way into Sizzler, and I made it over to the salad bar first. Now I’m not a vegan or a vegetarian. I do my best to get non-factory-farmed meat and eat as consciously as possible. But in this moment, in front of the monks, I became an instant vegan. I was careful about my choices from the salad bar. No cheese. No dressings with dairy. No chicken or tuna from the salad bar. Just some lettuce, tomatoes, mushrooms, bell peppers, nuts and vinaigrette for me! It seemed like such a small meal, but so what — I was there for the wisdom. I thought I’d just get a big Diet Coke to fill me up for the rest of the meal while the monks and I got down to some serious dharma talking!
So as I came back to the seat; I saw the monks ordering food.
And to my SHOCK, the wisest of the monks, the man who gave the dharma talk, ordered a STEAK! And another one ordered steak and the other two ordered chicken!
I was now in total shock.
Here I was the meat eater, pretending to be a vegan in the presence of the monks, and they were about to go to TOWN on some meat! And not meat from a local provider — SIZZLER steak and chicken! I just didn’t get it.
So the meal went along and I was dying to ask them about why they were eating meat, but I just couldn’t do it. We talked. Finally the meal came, boom — two steaks and two chickens! And I was stuck with my puny excuse for a salad. They even asked me if I was hungry ’cuz I had so little to eat.
So as the monks dove into their food, which included dead animals, I finally couldn’t take it anymore! I popped! I stopped the conversation and said, “Okay, okay! Hold on you guys! What’s up with the meat? You guys are Buddhist monks. Aren’t you committed to Metta, which is unconditional love for all sentient beings?”
And without a twitch, the wise old monk looked up from his steak and looked at me and said, “We have a phrase around the Ashram...”
And then he paused. One of those dramatic wisdom pauses like something EPIC was about to come out of his mouth.
He said, “And that phrase is... Not Buddha YET!” And with that they went about their meals.
I couldn’t believe it! Are you freakin’ kidding me! Not Buddha yet! In the moment it felt like a copout, but as I began to reflect on this phrase later in life, I saw the wisdom in it. Now I know what some of you must be thinking: “What a copout. So that means he can kill people, too? Because he’s NOT BUDDHA YET?” This obviously shouldn’t be used to justify bad behavior. That being said, I think it was one of the most honest things I’ve ever heard a “spiritual” person say to me.
The idea of not being Buddha yet is huge. We can let ourselves off the hook for not being spiritually “perfect” and instead take the journey into our ever so precious imperfection. We end up shriveling up our life when we do not allow ourselves to be human.
~Mastin Kipp
My Sister, My Friend
A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life.
~Isadora James
 
; Tara looked so happy in her cheerleading uniform, like all the other girls who were a year ahead of me. And she knew every cheer well enough to teach me, even though I wasn’t on the squad.
Sitting on the sidelines, with my chubby cheeks propped on my hands, I watched how she radiated confidence and poise, and thought, “Wow. I want to be like that.”
Five years later, she came home from middle school with tales of lockers and crushes. She wore jeans that would never fit me and seemed to already be popular, which didn’t surprise me at all.
As I sat there restricted in my scoliosis back brace, I watched her giggling on the phone with a friend, and thought, “Wow. I want to be like that.”
One year later, she bounced up to the stage, ready to sing her heart out at a theater audition. As I watched from the back row, running my tongue along my braces, I considered finding a place to hide so I wouldn’t have to sing next.
When she belted out the lyrics, with her head high and her arms spread wide, I stared in awe and admiration, and thought, “Wow. I want to be like that.”
The years went on, and like trees planted too close together, we slowly grew apart.
When I left home at 22 after years of hurting and hiding, I wondered if she’d miss me at all.
I never knew how she felt about anything, and she never knew me right back.
She didn’t know why I didn’t love myself. She didn’t know that I didn’t believe in myself. She didn’t know that I wanted to help myself, but couldn’t seem to figure out how.
After years of moving, stumbling, and growing, I started finding my way. And I decided to do my best to help others who might feel a little lost.
Though I hoped I did that through my writing, I also reached out to my sister, who was going through a tough time and needed support.
Whether it was advice or an opinion or simply an ear, I wanted to give it all.
Five Christmases ago she gave something back, the best gift I’d ever received. Amid the boxes and bags and stockings and cards, there was a paper addressed to me.