AHEAD OF OURSELVES

I watch the back of me walking swiftly toward an undisclosed destination. And I am having a hard time keeping up.

____________________________

This is me. Trying to match pace with the other version of myself.
The stories she tells elicit this frantic, all-consuming response that leads to reaction. The result nearly always places my body where I am not supposed to be.

___
Having read through my doctor’s assessment completely, I stare at the email in disbelief.
This is my life. I recognize the truth of every word.
I have lived it, in small bites, for the last five years—
Each surgery endured and recovered. Every procedure, scan, intervention. The strategy executed and adjusted. On to the next round.

Now, here it is for the first time, the staggering whole of it served up with a frankness that reflects the seriousness of where I am.

This honesty. It feels harsh, insensitive.
Still, I understand the bluntness is necessary to establish an equally effective plan.

I was having a good day when I read it. Distracted. Unprepared.
And suddenly, the whole of my countenance shifted.
Not one word changed the reality of my present moment.
Except for the rewiring of my brain.

This is where, if unrecognized and unattended, there is danger in getting ahead of myself—
Enter a vivid imagination.
Consider a reality that has been overwhelming at times.
A mind racing ahead of my current reality.
The story [I’ve been telling myself] begins to unravel and unwind.

“Body!” I command as the adrenaline starts pumping.
“You had best fall in line.”

These spoken out loud words remind me of who is in charge. Me. Over my body. My circumstance.
Not the other way around.

What power we activate when we notice how we allow what comes to affect us—
Cortisol racing.
Heart pumping.
A sick taste in my mouth.

We are creatures of reaction, aren’t we? Before we catch ourselves.

How many times, I wonder, have I allowed my body to have its way.
It’s more than lack of mind/body connection. It’s cellular invasion and decay.

Where do you go when your mind wanders?
To the land of Worst Case?

This is where the body responds by protecting itself.
And sometimes that stance of protection never wanes.

You feel the symptoms of it, even on the good days.
Anxiety. Vague uneasiness.
Harmless? Maybe. But not if it’s allowed to stay.

This is not nothing. It’s who and what we become.

Rogue cells taking over. Physical responses that override the reality of this moment…where you are standing…today.

And today has not changed.

Nothing in the body has shifted—
No scan rewritten. No cell renegotiated.
Only the story has moved.

This is the subtle violence of getting ahead.
Not the circumstance itself—
but the speed at which we abandon ourselves.

I can feel the distance when it happens.
As if I am no longer standing in my own life,
but observing a version of it already decided.

The body does not know the difference.
Between what is happening and what is being imagined with conviction and dread.

And so, I return.
Not with force.
Not with argument.
But with something softer…
recognition of where I am actually standing,
revelation of what is actually true in this breath.

The room is still.
My body is here.
The day, still intact.

There is no emergency in this exact moment.
Only the echo of one, perhaps.

And slowly—
the distance closes.

The version of me ahead begins to lose her stride.
Not because she was wrong,
but because she was early.

There will be a time to meet what is coming.
And when it does, I will not be unprepared.

I have proven that.

But I will not live there prematurely.
I will not hand over this moment
to something that has not yet asked for me.

This is the discipline.
Not of control.
But of staying.
Here.
Where my body actually is.
Where my life is still unfolding in sequence.
Where breath follows breath
without demand.

I am not behind.
I am not catching up.

I am right here.

NOTES — A Biological Return

A new doctor. A new treatment. A thorough analysis of everything that has gone before.

I think, in the moment, this is why we are exhorted not get ahead of our Creator.
This is what it feels like to steady ourselves.

The body is not in charge.
But it is fast—
Faster than thought.
Faster than reason.
It responds before we have time to decide.

But the body listens.
Without question.
To the conscious mind.

This is where awareness lives.
This is where interruption becomes possible.

We do not stop the first response.
But we can answer it, if we are aware and disciplined.

The body will follow what it hears repeatedly.
What is spoken.
What is believed.
What is reinforced.

“Body.”
Out loud.

Not as performance—
but as instruction and return of order.

The spoken word does something internal thought cannot.
It organizes.
It signals.
It gives shape to authority.

And the body responds.

Not always instantly.
But consistently.

This is the quiet power we carry.

Not overreaction—
but response.

Not control—
but direction.

We are not at the mercy of every signal.
We are participants in what happens next.

REFLECTIONS

• Where are you trying to get ahead of something that hasn’t happened yet?

• What are you hoping that “getting there early” will give you?

• What is actually here, right now, that you might be missing?

• When the anxiety, anticipation, or dread arrives… where do you feel it in your body?

• What happens if you stay with the sensation for a moment longer than you normally would?

• Can you remember a moment you thought you wouldn’t be able to meet… but did?

IMAGE: The river has become my life source. Like me, it runs forward constantly. What I love is it has direction. Are you following a direction or just running ahead of yourself? This is a question I am asking. And I want so badly to have a purpose bigger than merely keeping myself alive. If I want it, I can have it…WORDS. Beautiful ones. Life-changing ones. POWERFUL ones. This will be my legacy.