Breaking Cold

This morning broke cold, almost freezing. And then the sun rose too quickly, filtered through the pine needles and leaves that haven’t yet decided to show off the colors hidden within them. Then, at just the right time, when the sun had shone on them for just long enough, those leaves began to steam as the dew returned to the sky from whence it came and the sun pierced through that steam to make sure I couldn’t miss the delicate swirls as they departed. It was a very good thing.

I like cold mornings. They remind me of a lot of cold mornings on mountains, when you wake up warm surrounded by so much down but you know that your cold boots are waiting for your toes and you just lie there for a moment staring up at the taut red fabric of the tent above you, thankful. Those mornings are very good also. I read something about the cold the other day that describes it perfectly:

“You’ve lost your phone signal but found a deeper connection. You’ve come to the snowy hinterlands to pitch a tent, to see the sun rise, to remember what it feels like to be hungry, to let exertion instead of boredom exhaust you. You want to know what it feels like to be very, very cold and to have to make your own shelter. And at the end of the day, tucked into your mummy bag, before you fall headlong into sleep, you think: I am a part of this world, a line of the code, not a glitch… Meanwhile, nature looks on, indifferent, as you become aware…”

I’ve been pretty lucky, so I’ve seen lots of mornings like these. And it’s true that they do make you feel like a part of this world, a line of the code, not a glitch. Cancer is like that, too, and I think that’s one of its gifts. When you have it, it reminds you that you are a part of this world, for better or worse. You belong here, but that means you’re no more exempt from the suffering than the joy of this place. You have cancer because… well, there isn’t really a “why”. It happens to you just like things have always happened to everyone and everything, because you are a part of this place.

There’s a camaraderie here, and a love that develops for all the other people here with you. Cancer might not be their burden, but you can be sure they’re suffering from something. And knowing you are not a glitch, that you are exactly where you should be, allows you to show yourself some grace. It frees you to be kind to yourself because whatever is happening is not the result of some massive screw-up on your part, it’s just the way things go in this place.

 And what a place it is, where mornings break cold.