Dispatches From a Big Move

Returning to the Scene of the Joy

To remember how I manifested change

Nine years ago I lived on the east side of town in a low-income government subsidized housing project. I qualified to live there because at the time I was an unemployed stage-4 cancer patient. I lived there for one year.

Before moving into my apartment there I had spent a month in the hospital where a five pound tumor was surgically removed from my body. Once I was recovered from the surgery my doctor told me that the cancer had spread throughout my body and that I had six months to live. He also said that if I were to undergo about 80,000 dollars worth of chemotherapy that I might be able to live as long as twelve months. He then gave me five stapled pages that listed all the side effects of the chemotherapy, including loss of hair and finger and toe nails, constant nausea, constant diarrhea, constant vomiting, loss of the sense of taste, ringing in the ears, blurred vision, loss of teeth, recurring dizziness, and on and on and on…

I looked at the doctor and literally told him to go fuck himself. It was not his decision how long I lived. It was mine! Personally I feel that it should be against the law for any doctor or medical professional to tell anyone that they only have x amount of time left to live. That is just plain wrong! Most people who are told they have six months to live will die in six months. Most people given twelve months to live will die almost exactly twelve months later. Since childhood Westerners have been programmed to believe anything someone wearing a white lab coat tells them without ever questioning it.

Not me.

I took the stack of prescriptions the doctor had written for me and tore them up into little pieces then threw them up in the air of the doctor’s office. Then I got up and walked out of the hospital, never to return. That was almost ten years ago.

It was very soon after that when I moved into the aforementioned low-income housing project. I moved in with two very specific goals in mind. First, I needed to heal myself completely of cancer. Completely! And I would do it without any drugs whatsoever and without the help of any medical professionals — or anyone. I had no idea how I would do this but I knew that I could and I would.

My second goal was to start writing again. Thanks to the cancer I had not done any writing in months. I cannot be healthy and not write. And I simply could not die because I still had not made it to the New York Times bestseller list. Writing was as imperative as regaining my health.

So for one year I did nothing but write, read, meditate, and walk. I walked between five and fifteen miles a day — mostly through nature. I went walking at least three times a day. I learned that the housing complex was very close to a wonderful nature trail that followed a nearby creek. The trail was heavily forested and brimming with wildlife — with very, very few humans. I spent hours walking the trail back and forth every day.

I went to the library once a week and checked out everything I could find on healing and metaphysical spirituality — which was not much. As befitting the ultra right wing, redneck nature of the town I was in, most of the library’s books were Christian. Luckily, I still had a small collection of books that I had brought with me from Colorado so I read them all again. Although I was normally a big fiction reader, I read almost no fiction that year. It was all health and healing and non-religious spirituality.

Across the street to the east of the housing complex was a big open treeless field which provided an unobstructed view of the sunrise throughout the year. The sunrise quickly became a daily spiritual practice that was life-changing.

In addition to meditating at least three times a day I also ate a lot. I have never owned a scale in my entire life so I never knew how much I weighed. But when I entered the hospital they weighed me (apparently that is important) and I weighed 174 pounds. Shortly before I walked out of the hospital they weighed me again and I was down to 107 pounds. That is how much weight I lost from the cancer.

Standing naked in front of a mirror I saw that I looked like someone who just got out of Auschwitz. I could see all my ribs and a whole lot of other bones I had never seen before. It was frightening.

Because of my economic state of destitution I was able to get food stamps. I used them to purchase nothing but high quality, organic, and non-gmo food. I ate tons of fruits and veggies. I took no vitamins or supplements. I just ate good quality food and, most importantly, I enjoyed the heck out of every bite of food I put in my mouth.

I have known people who went through great struggle to lose weight on various diets. Well, my diet was the opposite kind of diet. I was trying to gain weight. And it was a profound joy! It took about five months but I gained back all my former weight. Once again I could wear pants without a belt.

The writing started out slowly. The one thing I absolutely refused to write about was the cancer. I never talked about it, either — to anyone! To write about it or talk about it was to give it energy. Instead I ignored it. I pretended it no longer existed. Instead I put all my energy into feeling and enjoying the joy of life. I banished all negative thoughts from my noggin.

The year in that apartment was a year of pure joy. I learned so much and I accomplished things I never thought I could — like curing myself of stage-4 cancer. My awareness blossomed and my attitude did a one-eighty. I even managed to manifest some abundance. I went from a pathetic sickly man to a man of great joy, vibrant health, power, and money in my pocket.

Of course that money meant I no longer qualified for low income housing so I had to move. I rented a nice apartment and spent almost two years writing three novels. Then I had to get a job and before I knew it I was once again living a “normal” life. And then things started going downhill.

Oddly, I began feeling powerless to change things. I was back in old routines and old attitudes. Nothing was working.

I found myself thinking back on that year of joy trying to remember everything I did back then to change my life. What were the secrets I uncovered that year? What have I forgotten and stopped doing? If only I can get back in that exact same state of mind. I have been too busy with life to revisit that magical year but now that is all I can think about.

But I am not just thinking about it. I am literally doing it (without the cancer part). I am going back to where I embraced the sun every morning. I have some questions the sun may have some answers to.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. Thanks for reading.

Stay tuned for more Dispatches From a Big Move…