Musings from the Brink: An Introduction
Hello again old friend, it's been a while
If you ever find yourself in New York City, in the Spring, I recommend wandering the cross streets of the Upper West Side. The brownstone row homes are particularly beautiful when the trees start to blossom. There is a lovely community garden that has a stunning array of tulips every April. I recommend a visit.
One thing you might notice, if you spend enough time walking around the UWS, is that occasionally, occupants of brownstones will leave “Stoop Books” outside their homes. One day, in April of 2022, while I was still deep in my physical and mental recovery from my cancer recurrence, I happened upon a pile of books outside a random apartment. I had been walking with one of my good friends, and we stopped to peruse the books, when one in particular, titled “When Things Fall Apart” by Pema Chödrön, caught my eye. I took it, and for the next few days spent much of time reflecting on her words. Her perspective helped me begin the process of reframing my approach to life. I still regularly think about her writing, in particular the following sentences:
“When things fall apart and we're on the verge of we know not what, the test for each of us is to stay on that brink and not concretize. The spiritual journey is not about heaven and finally getting to a place that's really swell.”
One of my biggest mental goals, since reflecting on this perspective, is to learn how to exist on the brink. We all live with uncertainty. It can scream at us directly in our face, or it can simmer below the surface. When life is going “well” it is easy to push uncertainty aside. But “when things fall apart,” uncertainty can overtake your entire worldview. Existence in this world, is in itself a major accomplishment. I have learned to feel fortunate and grateful to just “simply exist,” even when it feels like my world is crumbling, and my goals and aspirations are falling out of reach.
I realize it’s been quite some time since I reached out. Perhaps that’s because when life is going smoothly, and dare I say well, it feels weird to write to you about all the good things that are happening. (Many wonderful things have happened since the last time I emailed you, rather than detailing them, I’ll leave a few photos below for you to summarize). Three and a half years ago, when I was first diagnosed with cancer, it felt freeing and comforting for me to share what I was going through with you. You gave me so much love, support and courage to keep moving forward.
Since my diagnosis, I’ve learned quite a bit about how to enjoy life and exist in the setting of uncertainty. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking and acting on the practical challenges of living with cancer, and the more emotional and spiritual challenges that come with a life threatening illness. I’ve also had the remarkable benefit of being in the right place at the right time. Had I been diagnosed 15 years ago, despite all of our best efforts, I would not have made it more than 9 months to a year. I feel so lucky and fortunate to be able to continue to experience all of the highs and lows of life, to still get to do the things I am passionate about, and to be with the people I love.
I’ve decided to challenge myself to write more regularly about the last three and a half years. I have so many things to share: notes on death, funny stories from my hospitalizations, and moments where overwhelming kindness from friends and strangers has made all the difference in my life. I’m going to start compiling my thoughts on this substack, which I have entitled “Musings from The Brink,” in homage to Pema Chödrön’s reflections. I invite you to subscribe, follow along, share your ideas, and ask questions.
Much Love,
Jacob
