Making Miracles

What I love most about Berwick Camp is the experience of living in community. One of my favourite scenes is seeing friends gathered on doorsteps, sharing tea in old ratty rockers. Here for spiritual renewal, the quality of conversation quickly penetrates through typical superficialities, into the true reality of one’s life.

Yesterday I ran into my dear friend Donna, who I missed seeing last year because her husband Richard was undergoing surgery to remove cancer from his colon. 
After I asked how Richard was, Donna said, “Well, he’s challenged right now. We just found out his cancer has spread to his lungs.” 
I held space for more…
“He’s strong, though, and we’re doing all we can. He’s juicing, avoiding sugar, exercising and aligning himself with others who’ve undergone miracles. We’re not in denial, yet hearing the word palliative was one we weren’t ready for.”
Today I chatted with Richard himself. He had just come from a run and looked vitally alive. In a positive and peaceful tone, he told me about his struggles, and his intrigue with the medical field’s narrow perspective on healing and miracles. “Miracles are hard work, but I know they’re possible.” 
Yogic philosophy is based on the universal reality that everything that is born must one day die. Gulp. Not an easy pill to swallow… But let’s be clear, this acceptance of impermanence is not meant to depress us or extinguish our hope. The fact that everything in the material world will eventually change form serves a beautiful purpose: it draws us right into the very centre of our lives and directly into the present moment. And this is exactly where Donna and Richard are living.
“Jenny, our motto is: ‘This is our life right now.’ Our job is to live it with joy. We recently had a great time reading our love letters from our twenties,” said Donna.
As for Richard? He’s motivated to beat his diagnosis for two reasons: to live to help others recover and to prove to the non-believers that consciousness can transform our physical health. Also exquisitely aware of the facts, he accepts that if he doesn’t make it, he’ll finally get to see what’s on the other side.
Near the end of our doorstep chat, I became overcome by the immense beauty of the moments we’d just shared. Regardless of how Richard’s future unfolds, I knew I had just been deeply touched by his grace.  
Let’s follow Donna and Richard’s lead and pull down those old love letters this week!
PS, if you want to read more on Richard’s journey, his blog is: