Yoga Through Cancer: A Sacred Return to Self_A Soft Place to Begin

Yoga Through Cancer: A Sacred Return to Self – A companion series by Leora
Reflections released in rhythm with recovery

A Soft Place to Begin

Last fall, I made a life-changing decision. I would take a full year off work to rest, reset, and return to myself.

After years of service, of work, of tending to others’ needs, managing teams, guiding guests, holding space, I felt the undeniable whisper of my body asking me to pause. I gave my employer a four-month notice, setting my final workday for January 1, 2025, following a major New Year’s retreat I was leading with my HI team.

My “year off” would begin with a few months in Santa Barbara, writing, painting, sleeping in, and walk the coast line of the pacific, recuperating. I had made a plan. I had dreams. I needed this time. I longed for this time.

Then, just nine days into the new year, I was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Stage 2 breast cancer.

A small lump I had noticed in my right breast turned out to be more serious than I had hoped, but it was caught just in time. My doctor looked me in the eye and told me that if we had waited another year, I would be facing a different kind of fight. There was no more waiting. A treatment plan was immediately set in motion. More tests, more images, a port placed next to my heart, and lots of blood work. Six months of chemotherapy, followed by breast surgery (a lumpectomy, if all goes to plan), then weeks of radiation, 6 months more of target therapy infusions, and years of hormone therapy.

By the end of January, I was no longer planning my long-awaited trip to California. I was sitting in a chemotherapy chair having my first infusion. After my second therapy treatment, and a harrowing experience in the shower, while washing my hair, I pulled out clumps and clumps of my silver hair that I had just started becoming friends with. By noon that same day, a lovely, sweet friend shaved off what was left.

I won’t romanticize it. I don’t think cancer can be romanticized. It’s shocking from the very moment you get the news.

I was pissed off. Angry. Resistant. I had watched my mother suffer and ultimately pass away in the middle of her own chemotherapy journey. The thought of going through it myself felt unbearable. For a time, I considered not doing it at all. But after a very direct, honest conversation with my oncologist, I realized, this was a fight for my life, this was the reason and the gift of taking one year off work, and chemotherapy…brutal as it is, was not my enemy.

Though it took me a minute to realize… I had to look at chemo as a ruthless warrior, a general, a force that trusts and is solid in its dharma. A warrior that risks everything, yet trustfully surrenders to the inner most strength of my body, trusting its resilience even in the ‘friendly fire’ of the fight…destroying even the healthy parts of me, my stamina, my clarity, my comfort… while annihilating the enemy – cancer.

So far, I’ve completed four of my six rounds. Each one has been brutal, they suck hairy balls, as I’ve half-joked, half-cried with my loved ones. These treatments seem all consuming, leaving me weak, a battlefield not giving up the siege, disoriented, nauseated, and fatigued beyond anything I’ve ever known. My hands, feet, nails and skin constant reminders of the war within. I’ve lost my hair, I’ve lost my appetite, my taste buds, and my sense of physical vitality. I’ve watched my face age rapidly in the mirror and in some ways, I’ve lost my patience too, taken by the siege.

Somewhere between round two and three, I also lost my tolerance for bullshit, surprising even myself with the clarity and swiftness in which I’ve learned to cut off, step back, or walk away from anything not in alignment with my healing or any rattles to my nervous system. Sadly this has left me selectively present and emotionally tuned off. Leaving casualties in its wake. In this a fortress has been built by a second “dharma centered warrior”, Survival Mode, A force designed to protect me, yes… but also to protect those I love…from me, and from the quiet war waging within.

There’s no sugar-coating it…chemotherapy is hard.

But in the bloody mess of it all… I’m still here. Still healing. Still trusting. Still choosing to believe in all the natural forces…the dharma warriors and the dharma bums gathered at the table. Inviting them all in. Respecting their place in the cosmic scheme of being human.

While my year off didn’t unfold the way I imagined, it has brought me into deeper relationship with everything I’ve studied and lived through my years of yoga, Ayurveda, and spiritual practice. Some days, my mat has been my place of grief. Some days, if I’m really quiet and in my breath I’m reminded of the teachings of the Sages. Some days, I simply sit on the floor, place a hand on my heart, and whisper I’m here.

Three teachings in particular have spoken the loudest…reminding me daily in various ways, through various spaces.

Vairagya ~ Non-Attachment

“Be the same.”
This doesn’t mean being passive. It means cultivating inner steadiness, meeting the chaos of life without letting it unravel your center. I’m learning to let go of how I thought this year should look. I’m learning to understand, respect, and hold space for the ever-evolving changes in my body, without attachment or judgment.

Trustful Surrender ~ Letting go of what you cannot control

Letting go of control and expectations. Trusting Source. Trusting my doctors. Trusting my body to do what she knows to do. Trusting myself.
This isn’t about giving up…it’s about riding the wave, the ebb and flow of life, even when it breaks your heart open.

Ahimsa ~ Do No Harm

To others… or myself In thought, speech, and action.
This has reminded me not to turn my suffering, or my choices into self-hatred, negative self-talk, or disregard for my doctor’s care. Even when I feel hollow, weak, or scared, I do my best to speak to myself with compassion. To be kind to myself in the most difficult and uncomfortable places.

And to keep my friends, my loves, and my family neatly tucked in my heart, even when I have no words, trusting that they, too, understand and trust my heart.

This written series, Yoga Through Cancer…isn’t a prescription. It’s a companion. A soft place to land for anyone navigating illness, fatigue, grief, or simply the chaos of unexpected life changes.

Some entries will offer reflections from the chemo chair. Others may include breath practices, journal prompts, or quiet encouragement. I’ll write about naps and nausea, resilience and rest, inner storms and unexpected joy. I’ll share what it’s like to sit on the yoga mat with no energy to move, and how even that is still practice.

Whether you are going through cancer yourself, supporting a loved one, or simply moving through a hard season, I hope this space offers some warmth. Some truth. Some breath. Some understanding.

You are not alone.

Welcome to Yoga Through Cancer: A Sacred Return to Self.

Let’s begin.
~ Leora Sanchez

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi’s, The Guest House ~

Translated by Coleman Barks