Numbers have a way of making me space out, they've always astounded me; but breast cancer statistics just floor me. In reading them, I feel suddenly on high-alert. “About 1 in 8 women in the United States (12%) will develop invasive breast cancer over the course of her lifetime,” according to the CDC, and “for women in the U.S., breast cancer death rates are higher than those for any other cancer, besides lung cancer.” This is where I need to pause and take a breath. There’s a story in these statistics, waiting to be told, and I want it to find me... It’s not the story of cancer survivors, powerful as those stories may be, and it’s not the story where we all Race for the Cure, raising money to conquer this insidious disease with science. It’s not even an exposé about the endocrine-disrupting chemicals in our bottled water, the electromagnetic energies that we are bathed in as city-dwellers, or the soy products you should-no wait, shouldn’t, OK, maybe should, be eating. This is a love story, through and through. This is the story about how collectively, we women have forgotten to love and adore the most life-giving and comforting parts of our bodies. Not with a sweet indifference, or an appreciative nod, but through the dis-ease story that women across the western world are telling themselves about how their breasts are NOT ENOUGH. Of course, this story comes in as many forms as there are women: too much, uneven, marked by time, too attention grabbing, invisible... Our breasts endure these repetitive thought patterns on a daily basis and I can't help but assume what affect they are having on our health. While we may never go under the knife in the quest for some cultural breast ideal, even highly conscious and evolved women can get sucked into the trap of dishonoring our bodies. I know that I still can. I have seen how water crystals change when exposed to loving and unloving thoughts (and if you haven’t, please check out Messages from Water by Masaru Emoto) and as a health educator, I understand holistic interconnection. Yet, I’m still not immune from sending less-than-adoring messages to my own body. Battling the constant wave of disempowering affirmations embedded in our culture seems to be an unending practice as long as I’m still working, living, and playing within it. The Abounding River teaches us that sometimes the strong medicine we need is CONSCIOUS AFFIRMATION that re-aligns us with the positive flow of life. To battle an epidemic of negative affirmation, we need powerful CONSCIOUS medicine. Can you imagine that we have the power to change these statistics just by changing the way we are collectively "talking to" our bodies? Love may not heal all, but it certainly illumines the places that need healing. My commitment is to taking a stand for all of the women and girls in my life, even the ones who have done their share of Women’s Movement curriculum. We get to be the change. Through our conscious re-claiming of the life-force in our bodies, we can pave the way for women everywhere to find healing relationships to womanhood, sexuality, and empowerment. It starts with us. I invite the women reading this post to take on a healing affirmation practice with me, based on the Hawaiian Ho’oponopono, for the next 30 days. I'm calling it the "Breast Friends Practice". Once a day, sit, take a few long, deep breaths with your eyes closed and repeat these words, for 5 minutes, or until you feel complete: “Please forgive me. I love you. You are healthy, whole, complete, filled with love and light. You are beautiful just as you are. ” Thank you for taking on loving yourself. Thank you for changing the world.
Last week, I was sitting down on the couch at the Berkeley cafe for a green juice and some ice cream, when I spied a woman across from me making a remarkable video with her cell phone. She was talking about Cafe Gratitude, remarking on our philosophy and goals, and citing us as a wonderful source for Self-Love! Well, I just had to inquire, and here's what I found out: