constant correction

"Balance is a process of constant correction."
-Guy Forsythe, "Balance" from the Freedom to Fail

Terry Arnold (@talkIBC) reminded me of the Guy Forsythe song last night during a weekly Twitter discussion of the Breast Cancer Social Media group (#bcsm) on Twitter. These chats happen every Monday evening but the conversation is ongoing. I often forget about the chats but when I remember (or, more often, am accidentally reminded), I love every moment. When I start to chastise myself for spending too much time online, I am reminded of  how much support I find there - across distance and difference. We "get" each other.

One of the threads last night was about seeking balance, a subject near and dear to the hearts of many of us but especially to those who are recovering from or living with chronic illness. When is it right to push ourselves and when is it best to slow down?

Feisty Blue Gecko shared a post about "Seeking Balance" that deeply resonated with me, as I try work my way through my September to-do list, without forgetting to notice all the good (and not so good) happening around me.

It was a great discussion as always but it wasn't until this afternoon that I took the time to follow the link Terry posted and listen to Guy and some of his band, singing "Balance."

I was reminded that I literally stumbled into the audience listening to Guy at last year's Ottawa Folk Festival, on my way to another stage. I was immediately mesmerized and didn't leave until the concert was over.

It was pouring rain when Guy began what has become one of my favourite songs. As he sang the words from the chorus, "You can't change the world and you can't change the weather, the best you can do is make the most of today", the sun came out. It was a perfect moment as I stood there, acutely aware of my beautiful life.

Tomorrow, my mother is coming for a visit. I need to get to the cancer centre lab to get bloodwork done this week. Thursday is parent-teacher night at both my kids's schools. On Friday, I go to Halifax for a few days (starting with the Advocacy Training, hosted and organized by the Canadian Breast Cancer Network). I get back Monday night and have a surgical procedure to replace my portacath the next morning and Herceptin treatment that afternoon. The day after that, I need to organize the milk orders that have come in at my son's elementary school. That Friday, the home care nurse will come and remove the needle from my new portacath (they leave it in for a few days) and I'll head to Toronto. We'll spend a day getting ready then, I'll head to my friend's cottage in Northern Ontario.

That's just my September.

And that list doesn't even include the banal things from my to-do list that need to get done in between each of these things. Or doing the things that keep me whole, healthy and sane.

Some things just aren't going to get done. Others won't be done as thoroughly as I'd like. I'll try not to think of it as dropping the balls, just allowing them to fall, gently. Someone else can pick them back up or I'll deal with them later.

So much of what's happening in the next little while will be memorable and enjoyable. I need to remember to breathe deeply, look around me and take it all in. I have a feeling there are a few more perfect moments coming. It would be a shame if I missed them because I was too distracted or too worn out to really be there when they happen.




 You can order the Freedom to Fail from Guy Forsythe. I bought it last year at the Folk Festival. It's one of my favourites. I think I'm going to go listen to it now.