I have officially lived in Cape Cod for a month.

So far, here are some of my insights:

• Horseshoe crabs are the freakiest creatures I have ever seen in my entire life.

• Snapping turtles are actually dinosaurs that still walk the earth.

• Foxes actually do sound like the song “What Does The Fox Say?”

• Jellyfish are beautiful!

• Wow, I really am a city girl.

• Picking up your mail feels like home when the post office manager is a Jamaican New Yorker who also has a pitbull.

• SGI Buddhist members are vast and there when you least expect them!

• Running is a great form of self-love; You overcome mind-made obstacles, eat more food, get more hydration, and sleep better!

• Yellow falling leaves will forever be my favorite natural phenomenon.

• Justin is famous on Cape Cod. Everywhere we go, we see someone he knows.

• The dogs are happier and friendlier here.

• Every home should have an outdoor shower.

• I could listen to the sound of the leaves rustling through the trees forever.

Today the moon was the brightest I have ever seen it. We were riding down the Cape Cod Rail Trail, and we didn’t even need lights on our bikes. The light of the moon just danced through the leaves. Never has the night sky ever felt so inviting and comforting. I love it here. Here being Cape Cod. The sound of the crickets. The bunnies that hop around the yard. The trees. The sound of the beach. The giant sky.

The first time I came to Cape Cod, I thought to myself— “Wow, the sky is so big here.” I then thought- Brianna, that is a dumb thing to think. It’s the same old sky, you have just been living in NYC and are not a multi-millionaire who can afford to live in a high-rise luxury building up and out of the craziness of the city streets to actually see the sky.

Now I think— maybe that isn’t such a dumb thing to think. A change of perspective is generally a good thing. Putting yourself in a new place is brave. Being in a space where you can see things differently is enriching and can only lead to more curiousity and discovery of myself and the world around me.

Seeing the open sky takes my breath away because it reminds me of how small I am. Seeing the moon shine it’s light from 238,900 miles away, so perfectly placed in the solar system. It just reminds me how special all of this is. And I mean all of it. Like… how my lungs work. How evolution played out. How waves crash against the shore. How flowers grow. How fire flickers. How smiles are contagious. How water evaporates. It is a perfect orchestration of science, Mystic law, and chance that we are here. That I am here. And so when I look at the sky, I stop in awe. (I think I would do the same to the sun if I could look at it without being blinded! haha) I’m just so thankful to be here to experience this thing called Life.

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars 

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment, 

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders 

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is 

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned 

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side 

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world 

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it 

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it
go,
to let it go.

- Mary Oliver

“If I am always waiting, I have little time for being.” Yung Pueblo

I received an email notification that my chart had been updated. So I took a deep breath and logged on. When I saw that my thyroglobulin was elevated (from 17.1 to 26.7ng/mL), it destroyed me. After all of the crap I went through with my surgery, I was expecting a different and lower result. I messaged my doctor right away, feeling adrenaline racing in my body for fear of needing more treatment, scans, surgery, etc…. I was starting to feel my breath shorten at the thought of my surgery being “for nothing.” All of that trauma not even making a difference. I feel helpless— like I can do everything right, and still have it all go wrong. So… what do I do?

I called up my friend Mark, and said “siren emoji— I think I need a distraction wild night. Margaritas and good conversations.” He came within 10 minutes— I laughed at how much our days randomly aligned when I needed him most, and we were off in no time at Rooftop Cantina in midtown, celebrating life, dancing in our seats, and laughing at the whole matter. It worked. I was distracted for a while! I cried when the mariachi band sang Happy Birthday and Cielito Lindo.

The nurse called me the next day. She said it is either because of surgery inflammation or residual cancer. It’s news that didn’t necessarily make the waiting any better. She wants me to increase my medication dose to 7 days a week, come back for a PET scan in July, and get my blood tested in 3 weeks. So nothing terrible. Nothing dramatic. BUT. Once again… I am invited to live in this space of waiting. Waiting to see how big the tumors are in my lungs. Waiting to get lab results. Waiting to see if the cancer has metastasized to my brain or spine. Waiting for healing and inflammation to go down.

As I type this— I notice my body tense up.

I will continue to investigate how to deal with waiting. How can I find peace in this chaos? How can I help others find peace in this chaos? I am reminded of my former self— 10 years ago, I gave a TEDx talk. What I said then was— “How do you remain standing when your life starts to spin? You choose to be something. Choose to be anything.” In other words, you acknowledge the full chaotic situation and what is out of your control. Then you make a declaration of who you will choose to be here and now. I chose to be brave and vulnerable on that stage. I’d say it worked! I went through a difficult time with more ease, and went into the surgery like “LETS DO THIS!”. I transformed my waiting in dispair to being present….? I still have questions though…. like… can it be immediate? Or is it a slow process? How can community help? What mindfulness practices work best? And then…. how do you live authentically to what you declared? How do you upkeep the declared being in a world that wants nothing but to conform you into a workaholic-addicted citizen of a capitalistic society? Oy. Life.

Healing is weird.
The waves it comes in. Some days I feel like super woman, waking up early, running 3 miles, taking all of my vitamin supplements, answering emails. Other days, it feels like the trauma happened yesterday. The pain feels so fresh, my body feels so heavy, and the littlest word, phrase, or silence can just spark a waterfall of emotion.

I have an understanding of e-motion as energy that is asking to be moved. Today I had a conversation that triggered me, so I took out a timer and I told myself, Okay, Brianna. You can do this. Move out that energy. I am going to give you 3 minutes to cry your eyes out. Go!
I cried. I sobbed. I hugged Juliet. She looked at me confused. I hugged myself. I laid down on the floor. I breathed deeply. When the timer concluded I had two thoughts. 1. I think I need more time, and 2. Why does crying feel so much like laughing?
My face was puffy and wet with tears, as Juliet licked my face with curiosity. I think I could have kept going. But I also need to work on my grading and homework. Life responsibilities. Thank goodness this is the last week of the semester. I need a break.
I am trying my best to be present. I am not where I want to be post-surgery and break up, but I am here. Here in this weird healing grey space of “what the fudge monkeys am I doing and where the hell am I gonna live and how the hell am I gonna make this work?” And I am doing my best. Comparison to my past is hurtful. Measuring myself up to my peers is also detrimental. I feel like the Universe is training me to move forward in my own lane at my own speed, keeping my blinders up.

Another thought that keeps coming up is how important a social media presence is for my career, yet how detrimental it is for my mental health.
I will admit that being and posting as “BriPositive” feels quite fraudulent at the moment. Social media is a psycho game we (artists) all play because we feel like we have to stay relevant and exist for people. But it has swung out of control into this addictive trap of popularity, comparison, and a celebration of false and edited identities. That being said, I am taking a break from the socials to get myself in a healthier mindset.

onward. better days are ahead. and more sunny scooter rides. :)

“A student once asked anthropologist Margaret Mead, “What is the earliest sign of civilization?” The student expected her to say a clay pot, a grinding stone, or maybe a weapon.

Margaret Mead thought for a moment, then she said, “A healed femur.”

A femur is the longest bone in the body, linking hip to knee. In societies without the benefits of modern medicine, it takes about six weeks of rest for a fractured femur to heal. A healed femur shows that someone cared for the injured person, did their hunting and gathering, stayed with them, and offered physical protection and human companionship until the injury could mend.

Mead explained that where the law of the jungle—the survival of the fittest—rules, no healed femurs are found. The first sign of civilization is compassion, seen in a healed femur.“

—as told by Ira Byock