Filing out of packed muggy tubes moving strangers from one destination to another on a balmy May day, past the Powell street cable car, through San Francisco’s Union Square shopping and theater district, amidst the silent masses and our desperation to make it to our appointments on time, I made my 9 am appointment to get my first Neupogen shot in an old building on Post street with elevators that hummed and clunked into place.  Two crows sat on the ledge immediately outside of the window of the 7^th story floor, beaks and eyes wide open, peering in the entire time.  Interesting totem animal for the occasion, I couldn’t help myself from looking them up later.  They are found in cultures and mythology all over the world and have been for centuries.  They are also incredibly intelligent, said the doctor who injected the syringe filled with 900 mcg of Neupogen into my anterior left thigh.  All day I’ve pictured my bone marrow producing extra white blood cells like Santa’s elves producing an abundance of toys in the months leading up to Christmas.

Last Friday kicked-off a balmy stretch of summery, sunny days on the east side of the bay.  It’s been a magical backdrop to an already elevated state of awareness.  This is compounded by the container of support that has graced every day for the past few weeks, and most especially the last week.   Time seems to have slowed down to the point that there actually feels like there’s enough of it.  I think this is generally referred to as being present, as in not being in any moment other than the one that you are currently occupying.  It’s yummy, spacious and full of grace.

Ryan and I have been talking about how I can prepare myself to be more present for the actual donation; how to genuinely have the full experience and not just get through it.  He used the word trauma. I buckled.  Trauma to me implies much more drama than what I am experiencing. For instance, a sudden dramatic loss, a car accident, or any other major event that causes body shock.  Ryan defined trauma as any information that causes your central nervous system to respond as though it is responding to a threat, as in, ‘Oh my god, my blood will be drained out of me and put back into me six times over five hours and that freaks me out!’  Just saying or typing that has an impact on me.  So, while I trust the process and the staff and know it will all be just fine, on another level there’s low grade fear running in the background.

During acupuncture treatments this past week that have been administered to promote overall health and integration, the practitioners at Oakland Community Acupuncture have focused particularly on the health of my kidneys.  Last week I noticed that the kidney points were already tender and was curious why this would be so because the donation process hadn’t actually started until today. So I initiated a dialogue during my treatment yesterday.  I learned that in Traditional Chinese Medicine the governing emotion of the kidneys is fear, and the adrenals sit atop the kidneys.  When the adrenals get activated the kidneys aren’t very far away.  Our old brain is never very far away in its response to being chased by the tiger, it’s a choice of flight or fight.  The emotional preparation for this donation and the fear I’ve been running could be the culprits behind the tenderness.

The field of awareness that Ryan is coaching me to focus on is just below my skin, the largest organ of the body, a two-way mirror.  The meditation will be to rest in the chair, feel the fabric of whatever I’m wearing on my leg, the temperature and quality of the air, the preparations for the apheresis process, the sterilization of my skin and the puncture sites.  Any point on the skin is an entrance to the center, to the whole.  Just like a baseball field, a field of wildflowers, or a field of vision – these are all awareness fields.  My task will be to still the awareness, frame by frame, and dial into the expansive matrix of the reality that multiple things are happening simultaneously.  Hold the intention of the best possible outcomes for all and send my compassion for the recipient and her well-being along with my stem cells.

Magic, I learned in Ireland, is being immersed in the fullness of any moment.  The moment that provided this epiphany was on Doon Lake, rowing towards the crumbling walls of an ancient ring fort.  It was like being at the top of the world, drenched in an integrated sense of self in unison with the environment.  A delicious, viscous, savory splendor there on a beautiful lake in County Donegal with a ring fort at the center and an old man that took 5 pounds in exchange for use of his row boat to journey out to the fort, transporting his scrappy, happy dog as part of the deal.  The dog jumped off the boat as soon as we were close enough and scampered around playing experienced tour guide, leading us to entrances and crumbling walls.

The Secret Sits

We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.

~ Robert Frost

This donation process continues to present insights that underscore, bold or italicize the people, experiences, and moments that make my life matter.  Thanks for sticking with me on the journey.