Impact of Blueberries & Theater

Very tired today. Have been lying on my bed watching movies for hours. Now I am eating excellent blueberries which are from...Chile. That's part of what's wrong with things, I think, that someone in San Francisco in January can eat a big thing of organic blueberries for $4.99, flown all the way from Chile. According to a random website, that is almost 6,000 miles from here. Also, the eight different kinds of coconut water at Walgreens. Where are the coconuts from? Is there now a mountain of cracked coconuts on a beach somewhere? How far do they, or the cans, travel?

It's interesting: what one thinks one is owed, or deserves, or maybe just what one is unwilling to give up, given a choice. You might say, well, she has stage IV cancer, why not have a few Chilean blueberries? I don't mean to belabor the point, but I feel that the sense of entitlement - or perhaps it's just an inner sense of lack - that millions of us have, is what is heating up the earth, which will some day make it uninhabitable. (Not to oversimplify, or to claim all the responsibility!)

My life is fricking easy, and compared to the kind of hardships that are available in life, it always has been. Sure, I may be dying of cancer, but even if so, that's been pretty easy so far.

photos in this post were intercepted off of now forgotten (by
me anyway) internet sites. Almost all the rest of the photos were
taken by me or friends. I try to indicate when not. 

When I am at the acupuncturist, I visualize white light filling my body. My lower abdomen often feels dark. A couple of nights ago I had a dream about watching a show in an old, cavernous theater, trying to get out quietly before it was over, which was tricky. There as a pitch black room at the bottom of a huge staircase, so you had to turn on the light at the top of the stairs, before descending.

This morning we had our weekly chapter meeting, the Tender Hearts - Karunadevi, Dayamudra, and Viveka. It was good. A chapter is a group of people who have been ordained who meet regularly as a support to spiritual friendship and practice.

My friend in London ordered this poem written for me at 'The Poetry Takeaway' (an instant poetry stand) at the  Festival for the Living. She says

I told a rather nice young man a very little bit about you and your cancer, and an hour later went back and he read this poem aloud. Given that he had 2 others to do before mine I think it's pretty good...In fact I even felt quite emotional when he read it. Not a masterpiece, but good enough to send you, and I really thought you should have it. Interestingly, I didn't mention that you were musical (or indeed that you wrote some pretty good poems yourself).

Four Words 

Cancer of the vagina
Four words that could deflate even the most
inspired of erections
Four words I want to whisper in the ear of a rapist
Four words I want printed in white block capitals
on a skin tight vest
Four words to shout from a mountain made
entirely from cancerous breasts
This is the opposite of testicular cancer
Cancer - the word that rhymes with dancer
I've got music coming from my vagina
Dance with me