On Animating Energy

And some news.

Photo by Patrick on Unsplash

“Everything is energy, and that’s all there is to it.” (Einstein)

I'm not much of a science person. However, I'm thankful for science, math, and logical number-based pursuits. I took one semester of chemistry in high school. I was hopeless at every single part of chemistry. My mom told me if I got a B (and we are talking a low B here) in 1st semester, I could drop chemistry. To this day, I firmly believe (know) my teacher rounded up to get me out of the class. 

I've always felt more comfortable in the creative and word-based realms. While I might not understand many of Albert Einstein's significant contributions to science, I agree with his observation that "everything is energy." I've long believed words have energy.

That's why I love the idea of animating energy that I picked up many years ago from Rob Bell. I'm always looking for the animating energy, the life force, the enlivening that lies beneath words. Some words pulsate with positivity. Some words are neutral. Some words are negative. Some words spark creativity and life. Others block growth. It's subtle and can often be subjective based on experience, belief, etc. Regardless, it's always there, the underlying energy of words. 

I'm always considering the animating energy of this weekly smaller and deeper newsletter. I hope it's a positive, grace-full invitation to pause and consider the powerful, potent small moments that invite us into growing depth and understanding. I'm always looking for small moments, movements, and insights that become a quotidian guide when held up, studied, and polished with intention. I fully believe the profound lies in the ordinary.

With animating energy in mind, I want to share a glimpse of my November 2023. November is already shifting the animating energy (hopefully in a good way) of what I share weekly in this space. 

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in November. 

I went in for a "routine-just-to-be-sure-all-is-okay" follow-up, mammogram, and ultra-sound on November 2nd. I planned to get a peppermint mocha and go to Costco afterward. Instead, I went home in shock, trying to understand what happened. Instead of being told, everything looks fine, I was told, you have a mass that looks like cancer; we need to schedule a biopsy next week.

It still feels like a dream that I can't quite understand and can't seem to wake up from either. 

I (physically) feel fine. We caught it early through a routine mammogram. An excellent team of medical professionals (Doctors, nurses, and others) is guiding me on this unexpected journey. I met many new people in November as I waited for and received this diagnosis. Everyone has displayed empathy and kindness, from handing me another tissue to holding my hand in the biopsy and hugging me tight while saying, "It's okay. You are going to be fine." It's been hard, but still, there has been so much grace, kindness, and love.

So, what's next:

Later this month, I'll have a lumpectomy. Early in 2024, I'll have several weeks of radiation and then take a daily pill for the next five years.

It's a very doable treatment plan, and I've heard from many women who have walked this same journey, "It will all be okay." I know that is true. And yet¹, I often feel scared and overwhelmed. As seemingly straightforward as it all sounds, there are still questions that remain.

I'm not rushing the meaning-making. Now isn't the time for me to understand the lessons that will come in time. It's hard to resist figuring out how to neatly package this into a nice box. It's all messy, and I'm letting that be okay. 

My animating energy is changing. 

The animating energy of this newsletter is changing, too. 

I hope it will be deeper, wiser, with more grace, but only time will tell. 

The most common questions answered:

How did you find it? Did you feel it?

I have always followed the rules regarding medical suggestions, so when I turned 40, I started getting yearly mammograms. Last year, my scan was clear. This year, it wasn't. I can't feel anything, and my fellowship-trained, board-certified breast specialist can't feel anything either. The type of tumor I have, it isn't uncommon for it not to be felt in the early stages. So, if you should be getting regular mammograms and haven't had one in years or ever. Make your appointment. Go ahead, right now. Mammograms work. 

How is your family?

We are okay. We told our kids early. I couldn't pretend I was okay when I was so scared. We took someone wise's advice, "Let your kids go on this journey with you." They are both relieved to know what the treatment plan is. We are okay. It's reoriented all of us back to what is essential. 

And, So…

This newsletter isn't going to become a chronicle of my breast cancer journey. But what I write here is always influenced by my real life, by the things I am reading, seeing, listening to, and looking for, and those things right now are changing. I couldn't read in November- maybe you noticed I wasn't sharing any new books- this is why. Last week, when I wrote the essay, And, Yet, (it’s in the footnotes today if you missed it!), it was about breast cancer. I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and yet…

I plan to continue on the same, with a weekly newsletter on Sunday and the Advent 2023 daily for paid subscribers. Now, when you read my words, you will understand more about the animating energy for me right now, for the next few months, and probably beyond. 

Heartwood- photo by Amy V. Hoppock

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It’s not too late to join us on a Smaller & Deeper Advent. It’s $6.00 for the month of December or $60 for a year of additional smaller and deeper goodness. (I’m so excited about all the fun things I have planned. I hope you’ll consider joining me.

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Read this short passage from Pema Chödrön from her book When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times. Notice is a word or phrase that shimmers or sparkles for you. Is there an invitation for you to carry into the next week? How does this passage or phrase speak to something in your life?

“Once there was a young warrior. Her teacher told her that she had to do battle with fear. She didn’t want to do that. It seemed too aggressive; it was scary; it seemed unfriendly. But the teacher said she had to do it and gave her the instructions for the battle. The day arrived. The student warrior stood on one side, and fear stood on the other. The warrior was feeling very small, and fear was looking big and wrathful. They both had their weapons. The young warrior roused herself and went toward fear, prostrated three times, and asked, "May I have permission to go into battle with you?" Fear said, "Thank you for showing me so much respect that you ask permission." Then the young warrior said, "How can I defeat you?" Fear replied, "My weapons are that I talk fast, and I get very close to your face. Then you get completely unnerved, and you do whatever I say. If you don’t do what I tell you, I have no power. You can listen to me, and you can have respect for me. You can even be convinced by me. But if you don’t do what I say, I have no power." In that way, the student warrior learned how to defeat fear. ”

― Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times

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