Incontinence
Today has been challenging... I had a conversation with my brother's brother in law (is there not a better way to say that?). He had years ago the same type of cancer, same surgical procedure, same ileostomy and bag. He also had the second reconstructive surgery that I am awaiting as we speak. His news about the time after that second surgery were more or less what I expected but not what I liked. He confirmed that incontinence is a huge challenge on the first few days, then a big challenge for a year or so, and then just a challenge for the rest of your life.
Here I find myself again, sharing in real time with you readers this practice we call life. I know the solution to this sudden despair I am feeling is within myself, and I'm thankful at this moment for everything I know about mindfulness and compassion. I write...
I practice mindfulness and compassion and I´m incontinent.
I'm a meditation instructor but I'm incontinent.
I'm a psychologist but incontinent.
I love singing karaoke and I am incontinent.
I'm a dancing queen on the dance floor and I am incontinent.
I'm a gay man, and incontinent.
I'm an incontinent guitar player.
I travel to places. I'm incontinent.
I do not have any intention to stop traveling to places. I'm incontinent.
I love many people with my whole heart. Incontinent.
I'm the youngest in a family of 10 and incontinent.
I wish I was not incontinent but I'm incontinent.
I lose my temper and I'm incontinent.
I meditate and I'm incontinent.
I have high ideals and I'm incontinent.
I sometimes feel small and I'm incontinent.
Sometimes I feel on the top of the world; incontinent here, incontinent there.
I just want to have fun and I'm incontinent.
I want peace, a smooth sailing, but I'm incontinent.
I want...
I want to go back home.
The rest, all of this, is incontinence.
But hold on, could I first let the incontinence flow before I am again the strong man I know I can be?
Could I just splash on it and voice it out instead of keeping it only for myself?
The photo is a courtesy of Beatriz Prieto, from my home village, Meixide, in Galicia (NorthWestern Spain)