A large empty bowl,
Ceramic, with colors of blue, red, green, and cream, sits quietly in the center of the room. An introvert, not speaking, receiving each person’s introduction: story, hope, grief, recovery, fear, nervous laughter, inside jokes.
That which is spoken and that which is not.
This magnificent vessel has questions for us.
She asks, “Why are we introducing ourselves the way we do? By our cancer, treatment, years of survival, or relationship to cancer. It tells us so very little. And so much.”
I yearn for a time when we gather in creativity where the wings of life are wide and filled with colors and sounds. Where there is no way to define us that words can hold.
We listen to the heart beat of each person. A door opens.
I yearn for a time when the doctors read a chart and they see colors and sounds, images and stories. Their hearts are moved by a person’s truth.
They might read, “Judith, a 60 year old woman is very passionate about life and learning. She has helped many people in her life’s healing work. When she touches you, it is like being immersed in a mikveh in an emerald river. She loves to garden and be with her family. When she is faced with needles, she sings to soothe herself. A deeply spiritual person, her diagnosis was shocking. She is appropriately grieving the life she thought was hers. She thrives when she has an oncologist who can support her make decisions of care that match the dreams of her life. She needs a doctor to make sure she has emotional and spiritual support, even if he can’t provide it himself. She loves the ocean and dreams of living by the water someday.”