Marianne Williamson talks to Anne about why we get cancer

As a 3x cancer veteran, I hate being lectured by new age fans who preach that we “give ourselves” cancer. Whole Life Times gave me the chance to raise this issue with Marianne Williamson, one of the most respected leaders of new age thought.  I think you’ll be fascinated by what Marianne says on the cancer experience — including her advice on what to tell people who try to impose their opinions on you.  Enjoy, share, and comment....  We want to hear from you!

READ THE WHOLE STORY at http://www.wholelifetimes.com/7388/why-we-get-cancer/

READ THE WHOLE STORY at http://www.wholelifetimes.com/7388/why-we-get-cancer/

The Courage to Be Seen, Part 2

Hey my people,

Here's the second unbelievably cool cancer-fighting viral video I told you about:  "Molly's P.INK Tattoo," which came to me from upworthy.com. Click to meet Molly Ortwein, founder of P.INK.org, (P.INK as in "Personal Ink"). After her double mastectomy, Molly elected to adorn her reconstructed breasts with tattoos. Colby Butler, of Unfamous Tattoo in Miami, did the inking on two gorgeous representations of Brazilian pernambuco blossoms, reflecting Molly's love of all things Brazil.  

This story so far is lovely but not groundbreaking, right? Okay, here's the groundbreaking part. Molly has gone on to found P.INK.org -- a nexus that pairs women who want to answer cancer with tattoos with tattoo artists willing to offer their time and talent to help. I hope you'll check out the P.INK Pinterest page. Maybe recommend this idea to somebody you love. 

Brave women like Molly Ortwein and (previous post) Deborah Cohen are confirming what we all instinctively know: This is a momentous time in the wide world of cancer. The big C is losing its power to make us hide and talk in whispers. We're fighting cancer, and we're willing to be seen fighting cancer.

There's a fierceness cancer gives us, and although I bleeping hate the cancer, I love the fierceness. 

Molly is a perfect example. She may cry here and there during this video, but she's not remotely embarrassed about that. She's planning to work those tattoos, honey.  Talking about plans for her next trip to Brazil, she says with a grin: "I am so looking forward to marching my ass around the beach with no top on."

Dancing to Kill the Cancer Demon

Hey my people, meet Ananda Shankar Jayant. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer, she called on her mastery of Indian classical dance to mobilize the goddess Durga to conquer her cancer.  Since Durga kills demons, the analogy could not be better. Here, Ananda tells -- no, shows -- her audience at TED how she becomes Durga, riding the tiger into battle and emerging victorious.

Watching Ananda's dance unfold, I asked myself:  Who is my all-powerful cancer-conquering deity? I know I manifest someone because I feel myself breathing in courage in the parking lot of the cancer center.  I can feel myself putting on armor as I step inside. Where's that armor coming from?

That's my question for all of you, my friends who've walked into a diagnosis or a date for chemo: Who's your all-powerful cancer-conquering deity?  Who do you become when you walk off the elevator and into the cancer center?  Tell us and show someone else how it's done!  

The glory of the everyday: "Make Our Garden Grow"

Hey my people, when I came down with cancer, I had a powerful weapon on my side: I already believed that even life's smallest moments were worth fighting for.  This song is one of the things that gave me that idea: "Make Your Garden Grow," from the musical Candide. 

Who's Candide?  He's one of the dumbest, numbest, most gullible characters in the history of storytelling—basically, an 18th-century Forrest Gump.  Candide maintains his blind optimism throughout a fantastic series of disasters that include war, shipwreck, the Inquisition, and prostitution (endured by his girlfriend Cunegonde, who gets quite a kick out of it—but that's a different song). 

When Candide finally wakes up and sees what a fool he's been, he sings "Make Our Garden Grow." It's the climax of the show, and it's hair-raising. The lyrics are about doing a simple day's chores—baking bread and chopping wood. But wait for the third verse, where those homely tasks are elevated in a rush of music that would flood a cathedral:  "We're neither pure nor wise nor good/ We'll do the best we know/ We'll build our house and chop our wood/ And make our garden grow."

In two weeks I hit the cancer center for my six-month checkup.  I take the blood test and wait for the result.  I don't like it and I don't have to.

But today I grouted tile, fed my handsome dog, and listened to "Make Our Garden Grow."  I'll take this day with me when I go.

Talia Joy Castellano. A woman to remember.

Hey my people, I don't want to cough up a lot of bromides about the fact that Talia Castellano is dead. I do want to say this: For me, Talia didn't lose her battle with cancer. Even in death, she won. To you that idea may sound clueless, not to mention tasteless. Death at 13 is an obscenity no matter what the circumstance. But this Florida tween with the million-watt smile was more than a YouTube phenom. She had the mettle of a real star. Talia took on the adventure of her own life. She kicked cancer all the way up and down the block before she left us.

This young woman spent her time abundantly well. She played every card she had, and did it with gusto. She charmed Ellen DeGeneres on TV and displayed her flair for makeup in an ad for Cover Girl. Talia got up from chemo and still had the psychic wherewithal to describe the sight of rain coming at you across a Florida field (see the 2012 interview excerpted here).

Talia said she wanted to be remembered as "that bubbly girl who wanted to do something about childhood cancer." I'll remember you, Talia. No problem there.

So apparently the cancer's in the fine print

Hey my people, I just came across a mind-blowing story in Time magazine. It goes something like this. Scientists mapped the human genome a dozen years ago, and the 3 billion base pairs that make up our DNA boiled down to just 22,000 genes in different combinations. That accounted for 2% of the genome. The other 98% got labeled junk. This was clearly incorrect. The only existing substance that's 98% junk is Hostess Twinkies.  

Sure enough, science has now ascertained that the 98% of "junk" in DNA contains the mechanisms that tell the other 2% how to behave. I think this is nature's version of the fine print in the iTunes terms and conditions. You just click Accept, because nobody would read through that mess.  The cure for cancer could be hidden in there and you'd never know it.

Oh, wait. That's exactly what's going on in our DNA. Cancer happens when a cell gets ridiculously grandiose instructions, right? "Live forever." "Never stop growing." "Stand out from the crowd." Like a biological Nike ad that wants to kill you.  That bad advice is hiding out in our genetic fine print.  Knowing where is the first step toward achieving cancer treatments that fix our programming instead of bludgeoning every cell we've got.

And that's it. The cure for cancer. We can't quite reach it yet. But for the first time, we can see it.  It's one more reason to stay strong.  Because your future is on the fast track.

Check out this story for yourself: "Don't Trash These Genes," by Alice Park, in the Oct. 22 issue of Time. Here's a snippet to carry with you: