As you probably know, if you don’t find me at work or on the tennis court or maybe buying some shoes, I am deep in thought in my art. Sometimes I wish my mind would quieten down but I love to hear it thinking now after the disconnected chemo brain that so hurtfully slowed it to a tiring, rusty slowness.  The closest I get to quiet is in my art – my meditative place in my head. An art course in the rainy seasons is my favourite pastime. Not to say that it all works out like I can see it in my mind – I am told it takes 10,000 hours to get good at anything. That leaves me with hope that I will improve and can forgive those disaster paintings that look like floating islands, not clouds. Thank goodness for dollar store canvases! I put on the calm music and lose myself in my mindful thoughts as they unwind like a relaxing dream. Perhaps my hands just have to be doing or creating to find such mindful relaxation or remove other thoughts and give my brain the break it needs.

So this weekend, I wanted to try yet another new art. In the spirit of trying new things and searching for that feeling of relaxation yet success and pleasure of the result, I signed up for ZenTangle.

I walked into the class and noticed the zen music playing. The instructor discussed the rules:

Relax the mind and let the pen flow in details

No eraser – there are no mistakes in life – simply paths that may need to be realigned so an unintentional line must be incorporated into your picture because it is symbolic to do that

Try 365 days of ZenTangle. Write a phrase to go with it…..

Permission that life has unintentional turns that take you in a different direction rang so true – not to try to correct it or force it the way that was intended but to go with it and know that it can still work out – maybe even better!  The 3 hours felt like 5 minutes and the results quite batik-like.

Don’t ever think life is the same – there is so much to learn and do, what an unquenchable thirst for more I have.

So today as I cycled to my office because it was the first season in 3 years that I could hold the handlebars I counted my blessings and took the time to smell the roses and go to the place in my head that took a break from daily chaos.

Control – my biggest problem in dealing with cancer. Like an avalanche, it knocked me sideways and just as I tried to gain control, I lost it again and again. That horrible feeling as you desperately try to find the path through all the results, and topped off by the BRCA that knocked me sideways again, lead carefully out of the counseling room to be offered a therapist when it hadn’t even sunk in what this all meant. And so, control was seriously rocketing downwards, like a car with no brakes. Could I work again? Did people believe I could get through this – some clearly not as they moved on to other doctors, luckily most believed in me because I did – ahh my force and energy. Actually, who would believe, that like India, I would come back changed and inspire so many – the outcome and control of the future being so much less relevant that what I bring and how I now think.

“Sign here” he said, “ it’s a four year cellphone plan with a penalty to break it, the assistant kindly told me….. four years! I don’t think past the next season and that’s a great improvement. A part of me makes exciting plans for the next adventure but four years – that’s a gamble I can’t do. And then, my car, another one. I am fully responsible for my 4 year ownership – no problem, I’m strong now says the good side of my head…. After all, as I always say, no one knows what is around the corner, but four years, that’s the oncology clinic talk.

Is this just me or does everybody who has had cancer have this fleeting fight with their awareness that there’s a good probability that I will do well with all my treatment but a little tiny itsy bitsy dark spot knows cancer is not like having your appendix out – it has a risk and that’s what haunts us.

It is easy to see why people don’t tell clients or work colleagues for fear of thinking their commitment is risky. What a precipice we sit on. We have to acknowledge the thoughts yet not allow them to define us.

As you know, I don’t live life on the edge, except going to India! – I am the most conservative, safety conscious person around. Yes, most people could not believe I signed up, including me – it was something inside me that wanted to push myself outside my comfort zone – prove that I could go further, before time ran out, not live life with regrets or maybe’s, be proud of myself, open to learn new things, be humbled, be amazed, be inspired, take risks. In fact this year, I have rapidly been checking the bucket list – meet a old friend – on my way to India, I met with my school friend of 25 years ago and madly rushed around London seeing people who had not seen me since cancer. I managed to check off parasailing at 500ft in the air OMG – did it, got the t shirt , used the word shi#!! one too many times up there! Yes, zip lined the canopy wahoo loved it with my family recently and rode a camel from the Taj Mahal viewpoint right back to my bus – not getting on by ladder – no, the camel stood up like a giraffe sending me clinging for my life to the rickety chair.

The difficult side of going to India is certainly the lack of hygiene, the disease and infestation, the dirt and poverty that is such a contrast to the beautiful people.

I always said that I write best when emotions are hurting. As I relive the decisions, I want to hold those thoughts, the ones that helped me decide. There will be times in my life when something else comes along, another door opens, and I will decide to open it because experience now tells me it is worth trying. And so I hold another thinking card – one that contains all those forward thinking words, ready for next time…

I learned on the plane, on my way to India, a very valuable lesson from the wise man who sat next to me, interested in the documentary I was watching:  He told me that A challenge is when you have to try and do something and you have the tools; stress is when you have to do something but you don’t have the tools – it’s different : Say yes and challenge yourself, but be careful to see that you don’t stress yourself.

Go beyond your comfort zone, you’ll be proud of yourself, be amazed, be inspired, be humbled, don’t let time run out, fit it all in, prove that you can do it, take educated risks, no regrets or maybe’s, be prepared but do it, be proud of myself, learn new things, you can do it, make it happen, think of a way, flip your thinking, determination is a forwards direction, challenge yourself, Be the change, Own it – share it- inspire with it, goalify, notice your thinking, priorities, push yourself, finish, examine guilty feelings and correct them, be kind to yourself too, remember to laugh, doors open – see them – walk through them, learn new things, be the change.

So today as I push myself hard on the tennis court, I look at the saying I placed in my water bottle – BE THE CHANGE….. Own your disease, share the wisdom, Inspire with your change

I have held off sharing a short movie I made of my trip because there is that public level of disclosure that sometimes I am comfortable with and sometimes I draw it back. It is often my patients and fellow bloggers who inspire me to move forward, radiating true and going a little further. As a doctor, I was taught to wear the professional white coat, while at home, I was myself. Cancer changed that – it was all wrong…. I was a doctor AND a patient. The ability to surrender to the course of cancer treatment opened me up as a patient – vulnerable, scared and helpless, yet getting back to my work as a physician I was now different – authentic, one person, ready to go to more uncomfortable places because nothing could be as bad as the place I had been. And so, I opened myself to Both Sides – not allowed to involve patients in my confidentiality but to certainly write about how they impact me and my journey. Yet I am still nervous to open up to the world….if I use my Thinking Cards, the phrase pops in to replace the aprehension – ” If you don’t take chances, you miss the thousand positive things that could happen” – and so I post my movie. The chant was played in the car on our journey to Mother Teresa’s everyday to settle us into peace on the busy, poverty-lined trip. I chose music that was energizing, to get a feeling of where this experience was taking me.

So, here you are, out of my comfort zone, to share with you : Delhi 2013 – A Fresh Chapter. Hal, our professional filmmaker will be producing something far exceeding this version but this is a glimpse to wet your appetite.

Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened …. enjoy!

I booked into my schedule to reorganize my clothes as they hang out of shelves and I smell spring around the corner – today was going to be closet shopping. Seeing India and returning to all I have in Canada, was a huge awakening. I could not get excited about shopping when I realized that we have more than a lifetime of their possessions. And so, today I had booked Closet Shopping. This is an exercise my 16 yr old daughter taught me for this time of year. The best part is that you discover clothes instead of buying them – remarkably affordable! Ironing, altering are all part of closet shopping.– time to fix, donate, exchange or rejoice at your newly organized and rediscovered wardrobe.

Looking good is a reflection of your mood, something I refused to change in treatment and still as I go back for checkups, bloodwork etc – decisively younger than most in the oncology area, I put on my best boots and matching bag to say to the world that this is how I feel and cancer is not going to change that. As this next season brings us out of hibernation, it is my conscious effort to put together something that my mind hasn’t seen in a while. Besides, this is the first spring in 4 years that I have been able to wear spring clothes that fit my arm without drains or casts or slings to work around: breast cancers, broken shoulder, broken wrist – no, no it is not a trend…..so I am rediscovering my wardrobe – closet shopping. So my on call pager and I, a cup of tea and some cool energizing music are sorting, purging and rearranging. Things wear out, grow out, we must have a purging mind. Some things I still have difficulty with like my head scarves – boxed for the next room. – those little reminders that sneak back in about cancer.

I was all ready to wrap this up but sorting is important as well as tidying.  There, under the bags at the bottom of the closet were my childhood diaries. I wrote everyday as a teenager and opened the daily notes that included worries about physics tests and hairstyles. If only I could tell myself what life was going to be like a few decades from then…. But, in cancer, I had rediscovered writing. The art of diary writing had got me through the hardest days and now I finally feel I have strength from the storm. It is not just about reflecting on the hurdles of the day but a catharsis of unloading that happens when words go down on paper. The therapist inside you analyzes the feelings that you cannot tell anyone else because hurting those around you feels like the world will collapse – that if we all pretend to be strong, it seems less painful for that moment. Your diary can take it – it can listen to the real you without crying, collapsing or hurting.  The diary also is a place to put down inspiring thoughts or wishes to work towards. By writing thoughts down, they are there in black and white, as goals that can become reality. That is the therapy of diary writing. What is in the future? What will future me say one day?  Terri recently told me of her Morning Pages that she writes – a concept that I wanted to reignite. If you saw my mornings…. Getting my son to school ( now he can finally walk on his broken leg ), walk the dog, make lunches, ready for the office or assisting surgery at 8am – ahhh no morning pages unless dictated in the car, hardly pensive but, evening news was going to be my new venture. I promised myself that no matter what I wrote, there is going to be a daily diary of what happened that day, things I learned and felt, not just writing when I felt like it. It is about staying in the present, yet one day I will look back on this because, as my newest saying says LIFE MAKES SENSE BACKWARDS, try not to fight for control but trust it. My diary will be my path, I just don’t know where it is taking me. Doors open and I am excited to make a new journey.

From closet shopping to discovering my past and present – that’s all I need to know. The rest will make sense one day. Try morning pages or evening news.

People ask me how I feel now after my incredible immersion in the culture and people of India? It is hard to put it into words but I think feelings do a better job: it is about those who have everything and nothing at the same time.

People may say it is so crowded or dirty or poor. But look beyond that and you see family – everyone has respect, everyone has a title, there is pride in your family and happiness in having them around you.

At Mother Teresa’s the community of abandoned were one big family. We drove through the gate of The Missionaries of Charity, through fields of potatoes, farmed by the residents at Mother Teresa’s Home for the Dying and Destitute. As we arrive, the floors are being cleaned with buckets of water, washed down entirely, smelling of disinfectant, residents sweeping the water down the drains with  bunches of palm leaves. Our arrival at 8 am is mid morning for them – the day begins with breakfast and mass then on to chores. All are dressed and the 65 beds in one room are neatly made and colorful on the thin iron cots that are 6 inches apart. The severely disabled are in wheelchairs, often adapted using old garden chairs for the seats that have long ago rotted away or broken. “Namaste” as we greeted the residents – they were so excited to see us. The sisters are tireless. Working from dawn to dusk – medications, serving meals, ensuring that the most abled fed the disabled and the routine of plate washing and cleaning repeated after every meal.

We all have limits of comfort – whether it is dealing with the lice, feeding or dealing with the most disabled or even washing the feet of the residents since they did not all wear shoes and very few actually had any that matched or fit. Whatever our limits, the sisters of charity had limits beyond anything we can imagine. The work was their soul and they wanted no acknowledgment or reward more than to serve. In India, everywhere you look – people had nothing, but still had so much: hope, love, family, spirit, togetherness, happiness.

As we listened to Harmala, the words rang in my head. She had been there, tasted the edge but then came back to India to change the attitude towards cancer in India. She started Cansupport – a cancer support group and society that funds palliative care teams for those without ability to pay for end of life care and comfort. The culture in India is changing to be more Westernized in medical care but it is expensive and for those who survive day to day, the treatment costs are prohibitive or staying near a government hospital is isolating and unaffordable. In India, there is more cancer presenting at a later stage – estimates of 80% at stage 3 and 4. Cansupport was Harmala’s dream and hard work – to create and start free palliative care teams to serve these people. They are given 24 hr support , pain medication and care.

Following the interview where clearly her compassion and motivation made this happen, we were lead to a room as a panel in front of 40 workers – doctors, nurses, psychotherapists on the palliative teams.

I realized our worlds were connected – that cancer connected us and was not that far apart. When cancer cuts us to rawness, material things are less useful than family and support. There is much we can learn from India when it comes to family. As much as the rooms are needed to consult the entire family, they are the daily nurses too, holding IV’s, giving medications, always there, expected, ultimate duty. Palliative care comes down to comfort support which are not so different. I was asked questions on the panel, having been on both sides.

It was in one of these questions that I realized something very important – that my work was not done, my cup still empty, so much more to learn, more to do, where was my experience going to take me? ……

Then a question was directed to me that summed it all up :

“Do you ever feel that on this second chance, you feel like you have been given purpose?” asked one of the palliative care doctors – the compassionate spirit of these people stung me and I heard myself for the first time, “yes” I said…”I do”.

Cancer changes us but some changes are not all bad. What a lot I learned from those with nothing but also with everything.

Our bus set off at 9 am on the “fast” motor toll highway. It was not unusual to see 5 people hanging off the back of an overfull little truck and dogs crossing the motorway. The villages we passed were so basic with many oxen, small red clay houses – one room with tin roofs. There were chimneys everywhere making clay bricks, hand chiseled from the earth – famous in this area.

Entering Agra was quite shocking – a very run down town of tiny coloured houses a few feet across, dusty, dirty, chaos but the excited buzz of life and everyday survival always rose to the top.  The oxen were brought to the water edge to drink, women gathered the cow pats with their bare hands and formed them into disks to dry in the sun as cooking fuel. The dung hung from every post and road divider to dry. At the distant edge of the city, on the river’s edge sat the Taj Mahal – one of the seven wonders of the world in a city of poverty and survival.

What makes the Taj Mahal so special? Is it the perfection in every way it is built? Is it it’s beauty in the sunrise? I think it is the story that makes it come alive, told by our most amazing guide that created a picture of emotion – a story of love and pain as the emperor loses his beautiful love – he tries to represent her beauty in every aspect but it will always fall short of the deepest love. When we were interviewed by Hal before our visit that morning at 6am before sunrise, I remember the pain in the story and the hurt that cancer had brought on those I loved and emotions hit me hard – it is overwhelming to see the beauty and perfection and know that it is still not enough to match the love he lost. And so, here is the story – for me, that’s what it is all about……

The Taj Mahal is a mausoleum, built by Shah Jahan, one of the rich Moghul Emporors,  in memory of his most beautiful third wife, Mumtaz. Mumtaz was his third wife , a Persian commoner that he fell in love with, the moment he saw her. He thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and hence she was named Mumtaz (Beautiful crown). He met her at the Agra Fort that his father had built. She was selling her wares – he knew immediately that he must marry her. They had 14 children, 7 of which survived. On the birth of her 14 th child, she hemorrhaged in delivery and called for her husband, her love. He was away at war and came at once to her side. She asked that he build something in her honor to represent their love as she died. He promised that it would be extraordinarily beautiful and perfect to represent her memory and permanent as the earth and everlasting, no expenses spared.

The Taj Mahal means “beautiful crown palace” – it took 20,000 of the best Persian sculptors 22 years to build. There was a ramp 9.5 miles long to haul the translucent white marble into place. There are 4 entrances, 2 for his other wives, 1 for the workers and the biggest entrance for his beautiful wife, Mumtaz. It took 1,000 elephants, 4,000 camels and 40,000 tons of hard white marble with inlayed stone from around the world making chapters of the Koran around every arch – some for sunset prayers, some for sunrise.

Its features:

Perfect shape – octagonal – to be seen the same at every angle, symmetrical in its architecture – the same from every aspect since love is not one-sided but should be seen from so many sides too.

Supported, never to move, solid and everlasting as his love– resting on 64 x 90ft concrete columns embedded in the earth and filled to create a perfect platform.

Marble – translucent white – white is a symbol of love – its translucency changes the colour with the sun to reflect the mood every minute of the day.

Structure of columns – The magnificent columns are actually angled 3 degrees outwards in case of falling in a disaster, they would fall outwoods, never to endanger her tomb.

Echoes – the main dome has a double roof. It makes it higher and closer to heaven but the echoes can last 10 seconds or more. It is said that he would cry her name, “Mumtaz”, in the pain of her loss and listen to it echo for 10 seconds.

The Taj Mahal is known as a tear palace. The Emporor’s youngest son killed the other sons and imprisoned his father in the Agra Fort prison. He could still see the Taj till his last days when he called to his lost love before he died.

So we set off at 6am, the air was cold and it was still dark. We took a bus to the perimeter of the No Pollution zone that surrounded the Taj Mahal. At this point we boarded some beautiful white horse-drawn carriages to ride to the entrance for dawn. The whole experience was like going back in time.

It’s beauty is beyond description, it’s size and perfection immense. The love it represents too huge to imagine…. To stand here, half way around the world because I can – recalibrating.

It was on the bus back, that I reflected. I was told that there are 5 elements of the human body:

Fire, Water, Air, Sand and your Soul this is in the centre of the cross – nourished by the Gods and our dedication to give thanks.

There are 4 parts of life, like the 4 limbs of a cross: representing Birth, Marriage, Your children and their success and last of all is the legacy you leave in this world. It is believed that life is a bridge and that you must leave a part of you in this world since you cannot take anything with you. In this way, family is an incredibly valuable unit, a reflection of your success, love and pride. The Taj Mahal is so much more than an architectural beauty when you understand the love and soul that it represents.

Feb 21 – Going outside my comfort zone – The Spice Market : “You have to understand – tourists don’t go to Old Delhi Alex”. It’s not pretty, it’s real… That’s why I had to see it……I want to live life, not be afraid of it, I want to feel it, and see it in raw sweat and beauty. Old Delhi was worth it :

I thought I would see miles of cute stalls, like at home in the farmers markets – I imagined little colored canvas canopies selling crafts and spices for sale. Never could I have been prepared for the surreal onslaught to my senses.

We took the metro to Old Delhi. as we emerged from underground, the smell of rotting hits you in the face mixed with hot humidity and noise. As instructed, we found a cycle rickshaw among the hundreds of others and negotiated our 40 rupee ride(80c). The rickshaw drivers work so hard, one gear only, no suspension as we hit potholes and we shuddered in the metal padded seat. Weaving through traffic our 10 min ride dropped us in the street of spices that is hard to describe but simply to say that it was surreal – like I was in a bubble from my Western world and this was life thousands of miles away that flourished with energy and sweat, survival.

The poverty hits you everywhere you look – dirt, open sewers, dead rats , yet the vibrancy and bustle of the streets is incredible – color and incense take over your senses. Thousands of bicycle rickshaws share the streets with men pushing barrows piled so high with sacks of spices, bicycles loaded with panniers of fruit and oxen pulling sacks of spices and rice, unloaded and carried on their heads.

Each spice store wants your business – taste the rock salt, look at the cubic sugar crystals, learn about the premium picking seasons of Darjeeling teas, taste the sweet cinnamon bark and lick fresh licorice roots. The little shops were barely 5 ft across.

Look up and see the condemned buildings, tarps for roofs, electric wires hanging like 220V tangled wool. Look down for safe footing with holes to sewers in the black, dirty sidewalks. Nothing was going in my mouth here – no washrooms would be visited in this area, I thought. The side streets were so narrow and dark from the tall crumbling buildings on each side, then through an arch was a sacred square – a place where the chaos stood still as shoes are removed (though many people pushing barrows did not have shoes anyway) – this was the essence of life where hope existed and where their Gods helped to put food on the table.

Midday and the barrows 2 deep on each side stood still and workers slept in the noon sun after their exhausting work since dawn. The street vendors were making amazing food with kids helping the trade rather than school. Horns from the few cars and bicycle rickshaws and scooters were not offensive – more an organized chaos, simply letting others open the road know you are coming through – mutual respect. Riding in the traffic everyday, I got used to the skills these people had in having eyes all around to master the driving. There was no option for a sip of coffee from he cupholder for these drivers!

The people make these streets come alive. They are dignified and proud. Mothers would hold up their jewel-covered babies proudly to have a photo – a window to the Western world – little did they realize what’s I was learning from their spirit.

Old Delhi streets – truly a heart of mankind. I couldn’t imagine my trip complete without this experience – a beauty in the midst of such poverty yet a thriving pulse of energy and survival. Noise, simply a sweetness to the energy.

Clearly we stood out, clearly a western culture and skin that was not commonplace despite our Indian dress but never felt threatened only mutual respect. As we boarded our Metro train to return, it was lunch time rush hour. A man instantly stood up and offered me a seat, leaving no elder woman standing.

I learned a lot from this beautiful culture today – a story of survival and happiness that I have become richer for experiencing – pass it on….

For those who don’t know what I have been up to – For the last 2 1/2 weeks, I have been on a trip to India with A Fresh Chapter Alliance Foundation to recalibrate life after cancer and meet 11 other amazing, inspiring cancer survivors or thrivers that want to push themselves beyond comfort zones and experience the cultural immersion that changes us deeply.

So, What is India Like?  – A question too deep to answer in one sentence. I did not go on a tourist holiday from the brochures – this was not one of those trips to check off the sites that you visit, it was so much deeper…

We lived in apartments, 3 to a room , bathroom for 6 people with weak water pressure requiring bucket bathing. The hot water comes from an immersion heater that usually ran out by the time I got there but the humidity made any temperature refreshing. Any water that passes your lips must be bottled and imported – water processing is minimal. No toilet paper in the toilet since drains are not good so it takes concentration and practice to remember to discard the paper into the special bin. The apartments were very good by India standards – the best part were the 2 balconies overlooking the central grass courtyard – a rare commodity in New Delhi city. The floor, the stairs – all marble to keep the place cool. This time of year, nights are cool and days enjoyably warm, never hot.

When you think of India, you think of the food. There were 2 cooks working for Cross Cultural Solutions. The food was outstanding!  Mostly vegetarian food is served as it is more affordable: Chickpea and curded cheese were staples with vegetables, spiced with aromatic tastiness and homemade Naan bread cooked on a charcoal barbeque. The chai tea – sweet, milky and spicy replaced coffee and was satisfying and delicious. We were taught how to make this recipe.

This culture is strict in keeping legs and upper arms covered – the clothing is cool and light, long tunics or kurtis are worn over leggings, always with a scarf around the neck or over the head if entering a temple.

Security is reassuringly tight. Entering a temple or market or subway is like airport security – metal detection and bag searching were reassuring. Women always had a separate line with screen for privacy. Women only subway cars were also available – big pink signs point to the front car for women only. Though a male dominated society that would often see men pushing in front of you in line ups and I practiced the elbow technique of staying my ground, on the subway car, a man quickly got up to offer his seat and no older women were left standing – a respect that was refreshing and unique.

Line ups to the temples had a women’s line and a men’s line – there is still separation noted and we always had one of the group’s guides with us on excursions. Kids selling their wares are a constant buzz around you – selling bracelets or roses, doing gymnastics for money or looking just cute. I found that looking down and not interacting kept this to a minimum and, you have to realize, these people were happy and it was part of their way of living. It never offended me as long as you move about your business.

What I did not expect was what I learned from this culture. It is about being proud of your family and your space, about trying hard and not complaining. It is being kind to your fellow man without anything more than the shirt on your back. It is not about material things or the best car. It is about tolerance – on the road with 5 times the cars on tiny roads shared by cows, oxen, bicycles pulling wares piled 6 ft high and motor rickshaws at 40cents a ride. The honking is not offensive – simply defensive to note that you are pulling through and awareness in the crowded road. OK, crossing the street – pretty scary: you have to look the traffic in the face and make it your business to cross since it will never stop for you. There are no rules when it comes to driving. 4 people to a moped is not unusual – the women in saris sitting side saddle holding an infant as they weave through traffic – until I realize it works and I will not have to jump out to save a life – tolerance works.

Attitude to life seems key and what I take home from this trip.  I thought in giving to Mother Teresa’s, I would be fulfilled and grateful. There was so much more than this. I saw remarkable attitude as I volunteered at Mother Teresa’s home for the dying and destitute. More able helping less able – that is how it worked since there were not enough staff to care for them all – but it worked. Everyone was grateful and happy. Wheelchairs were made from old wheelchair frames with a plastic garden chair inserted for the seat! No complaints, no pain meds – happy about the smallest things, especially holding a hand or a hello “Namaste”. In helping some, they would touch my feet – the ultimate compliment and I was so humbled.

The day in Old Delhi spice market was the picture in my mind that I will keep. Hard work and sweat filled the air of the dirty streets lined with condemned buildings housing too many with open sewers whose smell was tempered by incense sticks burning on the streets by vendors. Men were pushing barrows, 2 deep with loads that were 4 sacks high. They worked so hard, displayed wares in shops that were 5 ft wide – little holes in the walls. No complaints, social and happy, street vendors making fresh food (not to be touched by our naïve stomachs). Surreal as I walked – noise, chaos, energy. They lived in this every day.

I thought I would be there to give back and be inspired. Wow, I had no idea how much they would change me. I am humbled, I am changed, I am inspired, I am grateful, I am reenergized, I am fulfilled!

Yes, we used some of these words as our names on our Taj Mahal trip – a reminder of where we are going, letting go of the emotional baggage we came with as we surrendered those old thoughts on paper to a ceremonial fire.

A trip of a lifetime – no hesitation – Go beyond your comfort zone.

As we met with CanSupport – palliative care teams that provide free service to those suffering with cancer, a phrase they used, stayed with me:

“You don’t go out of your way to help someone in India – You make it your way.”

I am changed…… pass it on….

Should means you haven’t but you can

Should looks backwards not forwards

Should carries regret

Should doesn’t make decisions

Should has intention without momentum

Should pleases others more than you

Should means your goal is too big to achieve

Don’t should it – book it

Shoulds are never scheduled

Don’t be a should-er , be a Do-er

I hear it all the time. “You are right, I should book that , should do that, should exercise etc”. No shoulding allowed is how I try to look at life now and  try and help people including myself go from should to Do…… is called stages of change. Five stages of change exist to categorize our goals.

If you sit in the phrase “ I just can’t do that because…..” You are in PRECONTEMPLATON– denial or seemingly impossible undertaking that is beyond achievement in your mind. You may feel that you are a victim in that position and it is up to others but this is where should-ing is out and doing is in. We must always find our internal locus of control – believe that you can do it , even when it is hard – That’s your starting point.

So now I have got you thinking…. This is where the should-ers come in. Thinking about it, CONTEMPLATION – should do it but it still seems hard so you have to look into a way of making it possible.  Should-ers look at the barriers to change – time, expense, fear. It may be at this point that you reassess the size of your goal to make it more possible – this is the key – make your goal achievable and reachable even if it is really small.

Are you ready for ACTION? Out of should-ing to Do-ing !  Keep to the plan, make the plan small and reachable. If it is too much, make it smaller. This is the point where we must be totally honest with ourselves. Sneaking a snack only hurts you. This is a goal for you only.

MAINTENANCE – lets make this real. If you think that you can juice your diet or spend 2 hrs preparing the most wholesome organic meal every day– you are pretty likely to fail maintenance. This is a lifetime level. It has to fit in to everyday life always.  People are full of good intentions at getting up at 5 am to exercise but if you cant sustain that then half an hour at lunch time is going to give you more success in the long run. You cant cut our carbs for the rest of your life so try a formula bound for long term appeal – permission to be real or we are doomed to fail or RELAPSE.

So when someone says “we should get together for coffee” – surprise them with the “shoulds are out” rule and book it – even if you change it we become Do-ers.

SO I ALWAYS REMEMBER:

The past is behind you except to learn from it

Make a goal that is reachable

Decide to say yes

No should’s allowed