Between the Beach and the Beam

Between the Beach and the Beam
Yoga Through Cancer: A Sacred Return to Self ~ A Companion Series

Today I began another phase of treatment, radiation, five days a week for the next three weeks.
I thought I was ready. I’ve been to this clinic before, met the oncologist, had the Scan mapping done, complete with my three, new tiny “freckled” tattoos. I walked in this morning clear-headed, steady, prepared for the next phase of treatment. Or so I thought….

As I lay on the table, with a new layer of peach fuzz on my bald head, my breasts exposed, one marked with fresh surgical scars, dimpling, and a nipple that no longer sits quite the same, I suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable in a way that startled me. Silent tears slid down my cheek before I could name what I was feeling.

WTF, Why now? I wondered. I’d just been topless on a sun drenched beach in Portugal a few weeks ago, feeling nothing but healing warmth on my boobs and freedom. But here, in the cold, sterile room with the hum of the machine, my breasts being maneuvered into place beneath a laser beam, the vulnerability felt sharp and uninvited.

I tried to imagine that warm beach, but the mechanical movements of strangers’ hands kept pulling me back into the room. Short of slapping hands away, I found my breath. Slow, steady inhales. Gentle exhales. My heart rate softened, my body softened, my mind calming down.

And then, unexpectedly, in the wake of the ebb and flow of my mind and heart, I thought of someone from my recent past, who had gone through his own cancer journey, including time in radiation. I wondered if this is how he felt? The strange surrender, the quiet exposure, the way your body becomes something to be positioned and measured. I wondered too if his first session was startling?

As I’ve shared in my past writings, this cancer journey has placed me back in bed alongside my parents.
It has cracked open a strange, yet vibrant and painful exposure to a new kind of compassion, love, and grief for them. I think of my mother, her own chemotherapy journey cut short when she died in the middle of it. Her fatigue, her inability to eat, and her silent surrender. I think of my father, how days before his death, he cried out from the pain of neuropathy in his feet, the burning and discomfort from wounds that would not heal.

Now, as the neuropathy burns in my own feet, I can almost feel his pain. And in this physical ache, I am brought into their worlds, my mother’s exhaustion, my father’s agony. It’s as if, in walking my own path through illness, I am walking back into their rooms, sitting beside their beds, holding their hands again, but this time with a deeper knowing and understanding.

The truth is, healing is not just physical… it reopens emotional landscapes you don’t expect to revisit. It places you in the intimate company of people you’ve loved and lost, people no longer in your life, yet suddenly right here again, right in the forefront of your heart and mind.

In the exhale of these long goodbyes, I hope to carry them all with me… my parents, my former love. Their pain, their courage, their vulnerability and their humanity.

I do wonder if this, too, is part of the medicine… a deepening of compassion, a sacred understanding that spills into the world as a healing in its own right.

I hope that someday, when the rawness and exposed edges of treatment and life soften into the sigh of completion, I can sit beside myself with this same deep sense of love and compassion that only comes from living your life thru soulful eyes.

Sitting Beside: A Compassion Practice

3–5 minutes

Settle
Find a comfortable position, seated or lying down.
Close your eyes. Take a slow breath in, and let it out with a soft sigh.

2. Invite Their Presence
Bring to mind someone you have loved, perhaps a parent, partner, friend, someone whose own journey through illness or challenge has touched you.
Let their image be gentle, like a photograph in soft light.

3. Sit Beside Them
In your mind’s eye, imagine yourself seated beside them.
You don’t have to say anything. Just be there. Feel your shared humanity, your connection beyond words.

4. Share the Breath
Breathe in as if you could take in a little of their burden,
Breathe out as if you could offer them your steadiness, love, and warmth.
Continue for several breaths, letting each exhale carry comfort toward them.

5. Close with Gratitude
Silently thank them for their presence in your life, for what they have taught you about love, strength, or compassion.
On your next breath, picture placing a hand on their hand, then gently let the image fade.

Open your eyes. Notice if the space around your heart feels a little more open.