What society means by smart is usually “ability to think things through, covering all cases, predicting the future precisely.”
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This is why the warm embrace of cold machinery and calculated thoughts is important. It provides meaning and purpose. Everything is accounted for. Everything has its place.
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Cancer is “I don’t belong here, this isn‘t my home.” The cells of the body rebels, trying to making cooies of itself. Trying to escape. Taking all it can gather with it.
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It is tempting to blame the cells. But it’s also good to ask why the home was so terrible that the cells couldn’t call it home? What was so bad that the cancer intuitively knew: “this isn’t home, this isn’t love”
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Cancer cannot win. In its paranoia it destroys its own home. The more you reject it as an outsider the more desperate it is to grow.
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The only way to beat cancer is love and understand it enough that it wants to come back home.
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If you feel things are going out of control, try loosening up a bit. Be a little more flexible. You might be surprised at what happens.
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The kids come home at last. The future light returns to thank the present fading into the past. Time stops in the perfect eternal Now.
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End of conversation
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