The Art of Showing Up

how to show up when the going gets rough

The changes we dread most may contain our salvation. BARBARA KINGSOLVER

Rose heading down the garden steps to the writer’s residence in the distance

The Gift of Time

One of the biggest challenges of my lymphoma diagnosis has been shifting my focus. For the past ten years, my husband and I have hosted the Aspen Words Writers in Residence with our partner, Aspen Words. It’s a great collaboration — Aspen Words handles the curation and administration of all of the residents, and we provide the space and solitude to work, along with a vegetable garden. The selected writers come to research or write for three weeks in our barn apartment with a refrigerator full of groceries to get them started. When they’re not working, they come for dinner, or for hikes in the hills. They also have access to this valley’s wealth of cultural opportunities and four wilderness areas. Even our dogs participate. They’ve trained our residents to supply biscuits when they show up at the back door. The residency has brought much needed diversity to our mostly white and stratospherically wealthy nearby community of Aspen. And every member of our family has benefited from exposure to different people, cultures and perspectives. Best of all, many of our residents have become cherished friends. It was tough to shelve something I love so dearly, but I had to hit the pause button on the residency.

When one of our former residents, Jean Chen Ho, heard about my diagnosis she sent an email full of concern and support. But then she gave me another gift. She asked if she could reach out to all of our former residents. I have been flooded with the most exquisitely written messages of love, gratitude and well wishing. One by one these writers have taken the time to show up and cheer us on. It’s a perfect example of the binding power of hospitality and how giving is reciprocated a million fold.

This is my second battle with cancer, and cancer has also been an unfortunate family legacy. The rigors of treatment constrict your life while the universe, the one that you built with friendships and family and connections and gardens and art and travel, are still moving at the same speed, shimmering in the distance. As I push through my treatments, I understand that showing up is both a kindness and an art form. I cannot emphasize how important it is to show up for those of us who are in a trough. At the risk of sounding woo woo (but then again I am a bit of a hippie) I believe in the power of the collective vibration of people .

Of course, some cannot show up. They are navigating their own troubles and have no room for much else. Or your difficulties remind them of that great aunt that they never said goodbye to and feel guilty about. Or they worry that acknowledging the pain of others will put them into the abyss when all they want to do is have a good time. For example, I have close relatives who have yet to contact me. Yes it’s disappointing, but I prefer to treat this as information, not as an invitation to hold a grudge. Whatever the reason, some people cannot reach out, and I don’t have the time to nurse hurt feelings. I know I certainly didn’t show up when I should have at points in my life. I prefer to focus on the luminous friends and family who show up faithfully like wildflowers in a meadow, not the ones who cannot.

"The moment of change is the only poem." — Adrienne Rich

Some thoughts on how to show up

People have often shared that they are at a loss when friends or family are traversing what Susan Sontag called “the night side of life.” They don’t want to intrude or make a mistake. Since there is no escape from the inevitability of illness here are a few pointers I’ve picked up along the way. That said, everyone’s journey to wellness is different—but even the most private among us could do with some cheerleading from afar with a handwritten note.

Do not ask what you can do. 

This is our first impulse and a good one. But when anyone is navigating an illness or a tragedy they have a new job. All their energy is going to this unwelcome new presence in their lives. When a good-meaning soul asks “What can I do?” it adds MORE to the beleaguered person’s plate because they feel like they have to come up with something for someone else to do.

Instead, here’s an alternative

• Food. First, ask about food restrictions. There were a few surprises on my last oral chemo drug — I cannot eat grapefruit, marmalade (no huge loss there), or cruciferous vegetables. I am avoiding dairy and sugar as well. Also, my sense of smell and taste have shifted. One well-meaning friend turned up with a broccoli cheddar soup and I was overwhelmed by nausea. Ask what is off-limits first. And if you don’t cook or don’t live locally, plenty of websites ship food. We have received some lovely care packages. Soups are the best. One amazing friend made me a hearty soup in individual wide-mouth jars which was handy since I am not eating big portions. Remember that most ill people are trying to keep weight on, so keep healthy calories in the recipes. I live in one of the fittest places in the country and the cuisine reflects it. Bone broth is delicious but not caloric. 

• Offer to run errands! I am on medical leave from my studio but there is no leave from errands. One friend always checks in before she goes to the grocery store or is out and about. It’s such a gift and I pay her back on Venmo. Another is dog walking. Alas, it doesn’t work for me because Rose will not leave my side but there are others with lower maintenance dogs.

Always send a simple note but release anyone from the obligation of a response

• I am hopelessly behind on emails, notes and texts since I have portals upon portals and medical correspondence to go through, a family to manage, a roller coaster ride of emotions, a business to think about, and various other commitments that I cannot delegate. And I am tired. Do send something funny or inspirational regardless — just don’t expect much of a reply, especially in the early months.

• My friends Keri and Amy write regular handwritten notes. They find something funny or inspirational and send it my way. I now love checking my P.O. and it brightens my day to see someone’s penned letter.

Do respect boundaries.

Once I learned details of my treatment I crafted a few letters bowing out of non-profit commitments. I communicated that I was taking a year’s medical leave to several organizations. As time goes on, I am noticing that emails are creeping back into my inbox, which is a bit disheartening. If there isn’t an emergency, most things can wait.

Don’t offer unsolicited medical advice.

These days offering medical counsel seems to be a reflex. People have rushed headlong with advice on how to “cure” my lymphoma even when they don’t know what I have or anything about my diagnosis and prognosis. I keep hearing that there are surefire “cancer cures.” For me, there will be degrees of remission. Well-meaning souls have suggested I try transcendental meditation, go to church, double my cumin intake, lie under infrared lights, try magnetic therapy (?), start a keto diet (again, the goal is to keep weight on), or go vegan in order to put me right side up. I also keep getting lectures on how sinister Western medicine can be. One friend told me that his cousin cured her breast cancer by drinking watercress smoothies. Perhaps she did but I don’t have breast cancer. Using genetics to determine treatment is becoming a new and effective standard, further proving there is no one size fits all to medicine or illness. First, each illness has different protocols. Second, western medicine is not perfect but neither is it a conspiracy. There is a balance. I am lucky to have the guidance of the best at MD Anderson. When you already feel like you failed at being a shining example of health, all the unsolicited advice adds to this feeling of defeat. There was one exception. I met the lovely director of Johns Hopkins at a friend’s house who also happens to be an oncologist. Our host had already shared my diagnosis and after first asking if he could inquire further, he asked some pointed questions and then reassured me that I was in the best care since he knew my team. He then told me about several success stories and shared some of the exciting research developments around my disease. This was a welcome conversation.

If your friend is open to a visit offer to drop by but on the patient’s terms, not yours.

I have one young soul in my life who wants to visit but is constantly rescheduling. She keeps saying — sorry but this visit has to be convenient to both of our schedules. She has yet to visit. Again, that creates more work for the already overwhelmed and sends the “only on my terms” message which is never a good look. If your schedule is nuts say so and turn up at a later time.

Don’t visit when you are sick or feel like you are coming down with something.

The old lessons of COVID-19 and preschool still apply. Don’t show up sick.

Don’t gossip and spread misinformation

I keep hearing rumors that I am at death’s door which is rather vexing and not the case. There is a big difference between a course of treatment that will land you into remission and being terminal. Unfortunately, none of the people “spreading the word” have reached out to me first. It isn't very pleasant to bump into someone and be addressed in hushed tones as if you are on your way out. It doesn’t help morale.

Only the Lonely

If your friend has no one, show up often. Many people don’t have a spouse or family to sustain them. When this is the case, just keep checking in.

Fomo

Unless prompted, be cautious about sharing all the great stuff you are doing and all that your friend is missing. I now avoid social media because it is full of people having fun, fun, fun. And though I am all for having fun, even if it may be curated for appearances, it is still a bit isolating to be on the outside looking in at parties, ladies’ get-togethers, and athletic triumphs. That said I am restless with my smaller routine, so I do love hearing about people’s joy, their kids, and any great stories.

Showing up in any way is a gift. Of time. Of love. Of connection. I hope I never take that for granted again.

---

Here is an amazing video via our friend Jonathan Irish—definitely the most delightful way of showing up.