The last week of January, we attended the funeral of a friend who suddenly dropped dead after battling heart issues for several years.  That same week, another dear friend's oncologist informed her that she has 12-18 months to live.  She has been battling this disease valiantly for about 6 years.  In both situations, I was reminded - once again - how fleeting and precious life is and how much we take for granted.  When I was a perfectly lovely young woman of 15, I obsessed over the little pooch of a stomach that I was certain looked disgusting to anyone seeing me in profile or in my swimsuit.  I couldn't see that I had beautiful blue eyes, radiant hair, gorgeous skin, a quick wit and a lively mind.  All I could see was that belly.  So I started starving myself - determined to get that belly under control.  I also did Pilates religiously (though I don't recall that it was named that at the time...), working out for hours. I got wonderfully thin, and very toned - but never lost that little belly.  Jump forward a few more years, and jogging had become the new way to lose weight and streamline the figure.  I gave it a try - hating every moment - but still determined to lose that belly.  No matter how much I jogged, that belly still jiggled. 

Jump forward a few more years, and my son came along, and that belly got larger.  And although I was active, somehow exercise slipped away.  I went back to school full time - worked full time - and had a toddler - so free time became non-existent.  I would get back to taking care of my body once school was finished and I was in my new career.  My new career involved moving and lots of change - and lots of stress - and by then I was experiencing recurring flares with my fibromyalgia.  But I was still relatively young - and I was working hard to get my life more balanced - and then I would deal with the extra weight that had continued to build up - more exercise and a better diet were right there on my list.

Jumping forward a bit more - and my best friend is diagnosed with breast cancer.  The prognosis was pretty good - it was at an early stage and small enough that only a lumpectomy followed by chemo and a short stint of radiation would be required.  I vowed that it was high time I got my own health in order.  My husband and I talked about what it would take to get in shape "for our age" and planned to get things underway soon.  We bought a fantastic treadmill.

And just a bit more forward - and my friend has been through more procedures than it would seem any human should have to endure.  Her heart has been weakened - and the cancer is back stronger than before.  She plans to fight it - but her plans have "teeth" in them - her chemo has a start date of just a week away.  Our friend with a bad heart had plans as well.  He had a grandson who needed him to stand in as the father because the real dad could not.  His wife, younger than him, had plans as well.  They were both potters - she had recently quit her job of many years so she could spend more time with her husband and on their art and with their grandson.  And then, he just died.  They knew it would happen sooner rather than later.  His heart had been giving out for many years.  But I think they had planned on it being a gradual decline - and not having him ripped from their midst.  On the ride home from the funeral, my husband and I once again remarked that we absolutely HAD to do something about our own health - and get busy at least walking on the treadmill on a regular basis.

Last week my friend began "reverse nesting".  She had a profound desire to dispose of things - clothes, crafts, books.  She wanted to get rid of things - in part to make it easier for her husband if she should pass away sooner than "planned" - and in part because with each thing she purged, she felt a little weight of responsibility leaving her shoulders.  She had a huge number of lovely clothes that she gave to me - and I have spent the past week washing them and deciding which to keep and which to pass on to other women in my family.  I had to wash them because she is a smoker.  Even in the face of death, she has no desire to give up this habit.  The clothes most likely have no odor to her any longer - but I am allergic to cigarette smoke - and along with washing the clothes I was battling asthma and swollen eyes and sinuses.  I am profoundly grateful for the clothes - both because they will be very helpful to me but also because they represent the desire of my friend to give me something truly useful.

So what does all this have to do with "Hypnotist - Heal Thyself"? In my rambling way - I am slowly coming to the realization that I have a choice.  I am at a crossroads in my life.  I can continue to make plans - or I can actually do the things I plan.  I can continue to read nutrition magazines - or I can start incorporating better nutrition into my life.  I can continue to dust the treadmill and think about how great it will feel when I get past the early exercise stage where you hurt more than you feel good about it - or I can put a foot forward and start walking.  It really is that easy.  It doesn't require planning - it requires doing.  While my friend's doctor has given her a timeline - the truth is we all are really like our potter friend.  We have no idea when our time will be up.  We can be right in the middle of our great plans - and life in its present form for us will be over in the wink of an eye.  The irony is that our potter friend was told he had six months to live at one point.  Well - he far surpassed that time.  But his time did come.  I don't want it to be ironic in my life that I have this incredibly powerful tool of hypnosis but ended up only "planning" to use it.  If I cannot use this tool regularly and powerfully in my own life - why would clients?