Cancer – Carmel Mawle

Good Things

March 15, 2023 admin

In the past two posts, I’ve shared some personal health news. That’s not something I normally do, but for some reason, I felt compelled. I told myself that my little trial might convince someone to grab their hat as they walked out the door. I hope that’s true. But, I think, on some level, I was also reaching out for support. It’s scary hearing the “C” word. I am happy and relieved to share that the latest surgery produced good margins. From henceforth, I will be gratefully mindful of wearing hats and sunscreen.

In some ways, writing a blog is like a cross between journaling and sending smoke signals into the wind. You pour something of yourself into it, even if the writer is not actually the topic of the blog. In my blog, I thought I would share the beauty of the Rockies, maybe a little about my writing journey. My hope is that readers – you – will find inspiration in your own natural world. And, at some point, I hope I will be able to invite you into my world with writing workshops and comfortable writing retreats.

So, while I hoped to share my Rocky Mountain muse with you – a gift of natural beauty and inspiration – you have shared the support and words of encouragement that I needed to hear in the moment. Thank you for your kindness, so much.

More Good Things

The lovely Winslow Writers, above, have been preparing for a very special event. The Spring Equinox Reading will be an evening of stories, poetry, and music, featuring Royston Hunget on the fiddle.

If you can join us on Monday, March 20th, at 6pm, in Fort Collins, we would love to see you! Contact me here for further details!

Savoring The Beauty of Winter

March 1, 2023 admin

“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.”
― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America

Snow falling on snow, the crackle of fire in the woodstove, a hot cup of tea, and a good book. As I write this, snow is falling. Owls call to each other from across the valley. The creek is hushed beneath layers of ice and snow. I love winter. The reality and the metaphor.

Steinbeck’s quote, above, resonates deeply for me right now. There are the changing seasons, and there are “Life Seasons.” And, really, what is life, but a season? We’re here for such a short time – there’s both beauty and loss in every moment.

I want to thank all of you who have sent encouraging messages since I shared my cancer diagnosis. I’ve had two minor surgeries, so far. The first was successful, but the second results weren’t to the doctor’s liking. They called this afternoon to say he wasn’t comfortable with the margins, so I’ll go in again next Tuesday. I’m grateful that he’s thorough. I know many of you have gone through this and come out the other side.

As Thich Nhat Hanh said, “Thanks to impermanence, everything is possible.” So, we’ll savor the beauty of winter, knowing that spring is on its way.

On Hope

February 17, 2023 admin

Hope is an embrace of the unknown and the unknowable, an alternative to the certainty of both optimists and pessimists. Optimists think it will all be fine without our involvement; pessimists adopt the opposite position; both excuse themselves from acting. It is the belief that what we do matters even though how and when it may matter, who and what it may impact, are not things we can know beforehand.

~Rebecca Solnit

I learned today that I have cancer. Two biopsies both came back positive – one for squamous cell carcinoma, the other for melanoma.

Earlier this morning, I was listening to an On Being podcast with Rebecca Solnit, and I was moved by the clarity of her observations about hope. She’s written a great deal about finding hope in the darkest places, and the way our best selves emerge in a crisis. She spoke about the power of stories to influence our thinking – like “womb” and “tomb,” two words evoking dark places – one of nurturing, growth and possibilities, the other of death, decay, and returning to the earth.

I think they caught it early, but I don’t know. And it doesn’t really matter. Last week, I celebrated 44 years of sobriety – every day of it a miracle. And this day is no exception. Sunrise on pristine snow, critter tracks through the trees, a talk with my daughter who’s recovering from an illness (along with her daughter), a couple of short calls to catch up with friends, and then this afternoon with my mom, her laughing about the latest book she’s reading, later a good visit with a client who’s working on a fabulous book, and Craig calling to say he’s getting a car wash on the way to pick us up. Mom’s spending the weekend with us. She loves the fire in the woodstove, the snow on the trees. Says she’s not bringing her book, because she’s going to do some writing.

It’s these little things that feel so full of life and love and healing.

Mary Oliver said, “All eternity is in the moment.”

I’m grateful for this moment, and all it encompasses.

Carmel Mawle

Writing in the Rockies

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