Chapters (103)
- Cover
- Title
- Dedication
- Upon Seeking Tu Fu as a Guide
- To My Reader
- Enduring Suffering
- God, Self, and Medicine
- Willfulness
- In Voices Half as Loud
- Tu Fu’s Reappearance
- Without Notice
- The Waiting Room
- Endgame
- Questions to Walk With
- A Terrible Knowledge
- October Storm
- Post-Op
- Setting Fires in the Rain
- The Decision for Therapy
- Questions to Walk With
- Ocean of Sky
- For My Brother
- Covenant with Time
- As Rachel Wakes
- Dance of the Seed
- A Sacred Meditation
- Questions to Walk With
- Messenger Signs
- Where We Are Strong
- As If to Say
- Finding a Way Out
- Questions to Walk With
- Approaching Wholeness
- Troubled Waters
- Knowing God
- The Garage
- Living with the Wound
- Questions to Walk With
- Mind Sweats
- First Treatment
- Cradlesong
- Lifesong with Two Trumpets
- Letter Home
- Who Will Live Your Life?
- Questions to Walk With
- Midway in Our Journey
- Magnificence
- Another Chance
- Nesting
- I Have Not Forgotten
- On My Way
- Questions to Walk With
- Facing the River
- Being Human
- As Moonlight
- In the Back of the Eye
- In the Sea of Others
- Moonglow
- Chores
- Questions to Walk With
- Still Here, Still Wondering
- Unraveling the Self
- Cracked or Healing
- For Nur
- Love-Sufferings
- Soft as Satisfaction
- Letting Go
- Inside the Miracle
- Questions to Walk With
- Sifting Truth
- Susan Means Lily
- Sitting Near a Smoke Bush
- Sniffing For You
- Forged
- It
- Surviving Has Made Me Crazy
- For That
- Questions to Walk With
- Flint Work
- Entering Our Tenth Year
- Coming of Age
- After Mira
- Still
- What Can I Do?
- Love Your Window
- Hourglass
- Questions to Walk With
- The Bridge of Well-Being
- Adrift
- The Beauty of Less
- Between the Wall and the Flame
- Eventually
- Thrown Back
- The Slow Arm of All That Matters
- The Thin Magic
- In the Sky of Heart
- The Sway of It All
- Gratitudes
- Notes
- Permissions
- About the Author
- Also by the Author
- About Sounds True
• In your journal, describe your experience of being fragile and vulnerable. Compare your experience to something in nature. Now go to this piece of nature that mirrors your vulnerability and watch it, listen to it, be in conversation with it—learn from it.
• In conversation with a friend or loved one, tell the story of a time when you were moved by something you didn’t understand. What part of you, other than your mind, can be moved and make sense of things? How can this inner resource be of help to you now?
• In your journal, describe someone who’s loved you unconditionally. What did that look like? What did that feel like? What do you think enables that person to be so whole-hearted in their loving? Whether that person is alive or not, write a letter of gratitude, describing that person’s unconditional love and how it’s affected you. If the person is still alive, send the letter. If they are not, send the letter to someone else, to keep their story of love alive.
• In conversation with a friend or loved one, describe a moment of love, beauty, or suffering that you experienced with someone else. How does feeling the presence of another affect your own experience of love, beauty, or suffering? How would you describe and name such a moment of common feeling? When drifting in the river of such feeling, what tribe do you belong to?
• In conversation with a friend or loved one, describe how you experience the dance of the seed of aliveness, in which we are, at once, close to life and death. Just as we make air useful when we breathe, breathe in the enormity of this paradox and help each other apply this mystery to a very real situation you face today.
• In your journal, explore what it means to a guest on this Earth and to be full of unknowing.
Messenger Signs
MESSENGER SIGNS
I stumbled onto Avicenna’s Poem on Medicine, the medieval practice manual used in medical schools for almost six hundred years. He remarks on conditions with unusual physical detail. I read them now, a thousand years later, as a citizen of modern oncology, and take them as symptoms of our alignment with the Whole.
Avicenna speaks of messenger signs of death: “Diminution in the opening of the eye, deviation of gaze, and fear of light.” Our openness is our lifeline. When we begin to close, we turn blue. When we shut our eye or squint, we lose the courage that looking into things brings. When we fear the light, we’re doomed. He speaks of fatal signs: “Groping of the hands about the pillow, and if, at the end of sleep, one sees himself covered with snow.”