Armistice Day

The best victory is when the opponent surrenders of its own accord before there are any actual hostilities... It is best to win without fighting.
Sun Tzu--The Art of War


Sitting in the chemo room last week, a man and his wife approached me after I gave them the international signal for "It's ok, I want to talk." By this, I mean I took out my earphones and turned off my iPod. The man, who appeared to be in his early 70s, asked me "What kind of cancer do you have, if you don't mind my asking?" This is the chemo room version of the jailhouse "What are you in for?" I told him it was a rare thymic cancer but that surgery had removed the tumor. "Is it aggressive?" he asked. By now, I was thinking I should have kept the earphones in and started laughing loudly to the audio book I had been listening to; I hate answering this question. "They say it is," was my reply.

With his wife standing next to him, he quickly told me his story. He had been "battling" prostate cancer for twenty-eight years and it was now in his bones. "The only thing I can tell you," he said "is keep fighting and have a lot of support." He followed that with "God bless you," and left with his wife.

This exchange got me thinking about the war mentality of treating cancer. It seems with many other diseases we manage them, we learn to adjust, or we develop "healthy lifestyles" to offset their impact. With cancer, however, we bring out the big guns. I understand this mentality completely; cancer is a destructive force and the idea of conquering it gives one a sense of control. The war against cancer is as problematic as the war on terror, with cancer being the Osama bin Laden of all diseases. It often strikes without warning, it moves from place to place and just when you think you have it captured it sneaks away into some secret hideaway to plan its next appearance.

The other issue I have with the idea of fighting cancer is that it seems such an unfair fight as the war zone is the body itself. Chemical weapons of cellular destruction are sent throughout the body, while radiation waves create collateral damage. Reinforcements come in the form of more and more drugs to help bolster the bodies depleting defenses. Yes, this is war in all of its non-glory and those of us diagnosed with cancer are drafted to "fight the good fight."

How to find peace during such times? How to soothe body, mind and spirit in the face of such upheaval and avoid the inevitable PTSD that comes from having to face such a ruthless enemy? One of the strategies to move into the spiritual demilitarized zone of Zen and practice of mindful meditation.

The core of Zen practice is the unconditional surrender to the now, to accept what in the East is called the "suchness" of life. To be present with whatever is happening puts an end to the psychological warfare that is ever-present when we face a crisis. Zen calls upon us to look deeply into our struggles and to see that they feed on our illusion of separateness and control. This is not a call for surrendering to illness and letting it have its way. To the contrary, it is marshalling our deeper inner knowledge that all things are one and that our energies are best used in service of this truth.

In a practical sense, this allows us to heal our shell-shock and seek the true freedom that comes from intentional awareness. We can still hate our disease, rail against it, hold protests and march in honor of its defeat. When this is done with our full attention, we turn battlefields into practice fields, where all events become meditative moments that enrich the soul. In this light, even putting one’s iPod shield back in place, becomes an act of self-kindness that tells the world, “This warrior is heading for Switzerland for some neutrality and perhaps a spa and a fondue.”