Metastatic Love

Sneaking love into the hidden places

Dear Friends,

I hope you are well in these days.  I initially wrote this about 10 days ago, so the timeline is a bit off. I refer to pieces that you can find at Andrea Gibson’s Substack, Things that Don’t Suck and Elizabeth Gilbert’s Substack, Letters from Love. I highly recommend both of these, along with Suleika Jouad’s The Isolation Journals.

In cancerland, I am back in the scancycle.  I have scans tomorrow which will show whether or not my new treatment regimen is working. Fingers and toes crossed! In any case, I’m grateful to my body for keeping on keeping on. Of her, I can surely say, nevertheless, she persisted. Might become another entry here.

In other fun news, we installed The Treat Stop in our front yard, like a Little Library, but with dog treats. It brings me a lot of joy to watch dogs and their people stopping by. You can see some photos of the grand opening here on my Instagram.

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It’s been 11 days framed by a poet. First, I learned that I will actually be able to hear them read in May in person which blows my heart right open. Then they dropped two stunning pieces on mortality. How lucky am I that as I dance with cancer and mortality, I live in the time of a guide and companion like Andrea Gibson.

This writing is so rough. Just sketches of thoughts and feelings that feel too big to put on the page. Grabbing at pieces that begin to coalesce and translating them into words.

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On Saturday, I sat weeding Bermuda grass, which is to say I worked on an impossible task since it has the weed world’s most effective mechanism for survival and spread. It spreads above ground and below ground with networks of vine-like stolon and thick rhizome roots. Even a small piece of the rhizome root left behind will generate new growth. It entwines itself in the roots of existing and wanted plants, and hides, ensuring it’s future.

It is a non-native, invasive species that is nearly impossible to eradicate, even with toxic chemicals. Sound familiar? I am struck by the thought that Bermuda grows like the metastases of the weed world.

I was thinking of Miss Rumphius* the other day and of her quest to make the world more beautiful by scattering lupine seeds wherever she went. Long after she was gone, the lupine kept spreading beauty. What seeds of beauty do I sow?

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Andrea Gibson wrote in the voice of Love writing to her:

Do you know how gutsy it is to admit how badly you want to live? Yes, we love you for working to build a loving relationship with your mortality. But we also love you for screaming “I don’t want to die!” so loudly in the chemo room, you almost got kicked out. (Ooopsy.)

Me again. Just to be clear, I want to live.

I still want to befriend a crow.
I want a thousand more belly laughs with the people I love.
I want to meet my grandchildren.
I want to celebrate my people’s milestones.
I want to grow old with my beloved.
I want to be here for the next chapters of so many life stories.
I want to read poems that have not yet been written, hear music that has not yet been composed.
I want more walks in forests and beside streams and oceans. I want to see canyon lands and ancient trees and brilliant fall colors.
I want birdsong, and garden harvests, and quiet winters, and warm summer evenings.
I want to feel the strength of my body moving and the satisfaction of a good stretch.

The other day I thought about why I don’t just give up on trying to learn Gaelic and Spanish, and I know it is because it keeps a dream alive. It is good to keep dreaming.

What if we turn cancer upside down and inside out? (Not in an icky making-the-best-of-things way.) What if the way lobular breast cancer strings cells together to spread quietly as a web through the body is a model of the way we could sneak love into forgotten places? What if instead of spreading disease, metastases could spread healing? What if we could metastasize love, breaking off love cells and sending them out into the body, into each other, into the ethers to set up home and multiply?

I know this life is Love School and I just wish I had the words to explain. If I find them, I’ll write them down.

I’ve wandered all over the place in my head and heart these last days. I am trying to listen for the voice of Love.

Befriending mortality, living the hell out of this one life, being here now, staying amazed, metastasizing love. All of it. May it be so.

Go out there and sneak some love and healing into hidden places.

I appreciate you. Thanks for being here. Share this with folks who might resonate with this.

Spreading love,

Maija

Song of the Week: If Love School had a curricular playlist, Give Yourself to Love by Kate Wolf would be on top. Since I’ve shared that one before, I also include Love Song by Elton John.

I was out recently and spoke to someone who said she always listens to these music recommendations which delighted me. For the handful of you who do, you are indeed my people. I’ve collected all of the songs into a playlist and I’ll keep adding to it as we go. I know it’s eclectic and not really a cohesive playlist, but these are all songs that accompany me, and now they are collecting in one place.

You can find it here:

Healing Happens on Spotify

Healing Happens on Apple Music

* Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney is a beautiful, mostly pictures, book. Highly recommended if you have a younger child in your life. Or even if you don’t.