Lately I have been writing. It has been years since I wrote from the heart and fully engaged in the creative process. I have written and published in area press, online ,and in cancer and wellness related journals. Not to mention the papers and graduate thesis required to earn the Masters in Holistic Health.

I do not know what I will do exactly with the deep writing. Perhaps try for a book or series of articles. It will take time; I have much material. At times, it became difficult to write and to live entirely truthfully. Selectively, I revealed my life; I still think so often of Emily Dickinson and how her work selectively revealed moments in each numbered poem (Time for a reread!)

Yet, in the creative process, what role does truth play? When we write or draw or create in any form, what are the effects? Does writing lead to wellness? When my life revolved around cancer--chemotherapy, radiation, living with an incredibly supportive other, movies, city walks, museums, art, more chemotherapy, radiation, complete evenings spent in the bathroom, writing became my therapy of a very mixed emotional time. Writing and Buddhist chanting became my bridge between this world and mortality. I would experience, write, chant. That was eight years ago and now, it is memory, except for the words I wrote, medical charts, doctor visits, and that feeling in the heart chakra when I hear the word--cancer.

I hear it often. I am an advocate with C3 Coalition, peer counselor for Colorectal Cancer Alliance, and trained holistically as a Cancer Guide, sort of a holistic resource, cancer mentor for anyone experiencing cancer. And still, it is a subject of intense interest and passion. I experienced cancer; it did not kill me, it did not define me, it did provide endless change. Sometimes, I am even appreciative.

But, does it take such intense life experience to become creative? What if life is pleasant, easy, financially secure, "normal," perhaps; if there is a norm at all? Where does creativity go?

Time to feed the cat; my orange friend. He knows all answers, I believe.

It is strange to say that in such a financially devastating time, my spirit runs fairly free? Could it be that our physical world does not correlate directly with the spirit world? Or that, perhaps, one can still be fairly happy in the middle of economic difficulty.

I am not Melville's Bartleby who chooses not to find a fruitful means of employ; nor am I a forever dreamer who basks in the glittery promise of a better tomorrow. (Could I not be a presidential speech writer?) However, I am hopeful, surprisingly not frustrated, and somewhat confident that I can find a way out of a financial morass while concurrently finding employment doing what I want to do.

What I want to do and what I must do to survive might be two different things or surprisingly, they might be the same. I have taught English, journalism, women's studies and more on the college level all my working years, practically. I am a good teacher; however, I have been at times an arrogant, strident, frustrated, robo-teacher, even while maintaining the visage of good prof.

Lately, I have been an excellent teacher, fairly surprising myself at moments of incredible teaching enjoyment--that rush I have seen lately only in film or heard from others. Probably this rush is coming since I am trying to leave teaching and pursue holistic work and start my own practice.

I am trained for this holistic work; I desire it, I am passionate about energy medicine, Reiki, integrative medicine, watching Eastern and Western medicine work together to create wellness (the persons involved help, too). I love chanting, Qi Gong, meditation, healing therapies. They have changed me; the persons who taught me and life experiences have helped, too. I want to take my teachings and continually evolving practice everywhere. How?

This quest will become all pervasive until the answer reveals. In the meantime, I will continue writing, teaching, practicing, and seeking.