Cellular Uncertainty and the River of Phenomenon

When disease arrives in one's life, a new chapter steeped in cellular uncertainty begins. The curious thing is I thought these were novel beginnings, an organic body seemingly well-functioning suddenly begins suffering in some medically-detectible way. But cellular activity, on grand and miniscule scales, both within my body and in other bodies connected to me energentically, are perpetual happenings. For this sickness is just part of a continuum. Whatever becomes known is not new at all. Prior to knowledge, there has been a complex environment filled with kinetic energy responding, growing, shrinking or just benignly being.

All of a sudden a branch falls, but it was weakening in prior years of that tree's life. Something was happening. That said, when breath remains, a body, a branch, a cell, all have the ability to heal, given the circumstances and environment to do so. Kineses lack directional orientation, so you just never know.

I am often reminded of an MFA (Painting) class I took at SCAD called Experiential and Conceptual Art. My rigid peers and I, thinking creativity looked one mimetic and commerically-viable way suddenly saw that art was literally everywhere and maybe some of the most exciting ways of creating were to detach from outcomes, mimicry and trying to so hard to know instead of discover. Now that I have cancer, this thought has become a lifeline. It is an antidote to fear, waking up with the mindset "what will I discover today?" I don't want to fear my own body, for she is a gift. I aim to connect with her and understand where this emotional pain is leading me. This must happen for any healing to occur.

Paper, twine, wood, found plastic toys, beads, tiny robot parts, Post-its, flowers, polymer clay and detritus have become the most amazing re-found mediums these days. My pile of blank sketchbooks and unused supplies collected over the years have become playgrounds. It has taken 57 years of being, but instead of being so serious about outcomes, bodily or creatively, I am learning to see how the universe unfolds. I don't know where cancer will lead me. I don't know what I will create. But with a heart and mind open, the possiblities are endless.

Most days I start with a sign from the universe: a bird on my daily calendar (a gift from my best friend); a number on a test; a Gene Key; a stone from my Sister; firing up a random number generator and seeing what sentence I am led to in whatever book I am reading; a visit from an animal, person, plant. If I need genesis springboards, I know where to find them, digging a bit or maybe hidden in plain view like the tree spirits that dance across the threads of so many of the global faith systems, especially in the East.

I will sign off with a quote from one of the most thought-provoking artists I have ever had the pleasure to study, Gabriel Orozco (Mexican-American, b. 1962). He is so connected with the present, he rarely works in a studio. He showed me that every moment of life is so very precious and we each have within us a river of phenomenon. All we must do is dip our fingertips into the chilly water and see what we pull up.

"What I'm after is the liquidity of things, how one thing leads you on to the rest ... The works are about concentration, intention, and paths of thought: the flow of totality in our perception, the fragmentation of the 'river of phenomenon.'"