The Studio: Sandy Fifield

The Value of Silence

As we sat having lunch in Zion National Park at a picnic table by the Nature Center we were amazed by the lack of traffic. Oh, it’s small, hard to get to, it has to compete with its big brother, the Grand Canyon, and it was barely mentioned by the book we had on Utah’s canyon lands, but it has the most concentrated, outrageous rock formations I have ever seen. As we drove further into the park, the rocks surround us, front, back and both sides. You can actually drive right through the park via a mile long tunnel built in the 1930’s. It is narrow and dark but has incredible openings looking out into the canyons to let in a little light. We found a small pullout for our vehicle and stopped. It was dead calm when we stepped out of the car and the most amazing thing happened; we heard the sound of the air, not the breeze or the wind but the air. I have never experienced anything like it. The value of silence enveloped us.

As far back as I can remember I have been making noise thinking that it had some value. Today in recovery I am asked to consider before I add to the general din. Will it be helpful? Will it be a gift? These kinds of thoughts have been possible only in recovery. The process of clearing the noise out my head had to come first. It was quite a struggle at first. The habit of a lifetime is the first thing to appear in my brain. Now as the benefits of being quiet become more and more visible there comes a peace and serenity that manifests itself in being able to hear the sound that air makes. Read More

Why is Recovery THE Answer?

Recently, while discussing the addiction problem of a friend’s fifteen year old daughter, my immediate temptation was to think that this was unique and different, a special problem that needed to be dealt with in an extraordinary manner. I thought—there must be some kind of therapy, magic medication or miracle action which could fix the problem once and for all. Rescue and fix—that’s the answer. These thoughts raced through my head and I’m sure through her parent’s minds as well. How can we make the problem just go away?

Florida--August 2012

I wake up in the morning overwhelmed with gratitude. How awesome to have a partner on this journey. When all this health stuff came down the real meaning of partnership rose to the surface. Suddenly Sandy had to take over every area of our lives. I realized that we are really in this together. The strength of our relationship became even more obvious. We are so connected that if I want to know how I feel, all I have to do is ask Sandy. If I’m exhausted, she’s exhausted; if my back hurts, same with her. The emotional connection is so strong, it’s almost scary. How she walks the fine line between taking care of me and not treating me like an invalid child is masterful.

We have our little tiffs but because of our commitment to our spiritual life and our partnership we can actually pause and reevaluate our positions. What an incredible gift. So many times she is coming from the east and I’m coming from the west that you think we would be used to it. As we maneuver for position and struggle to hang on, we discover that many times we are headed for the same place. This has taken practice and a willingness to stand on the beach when the cannibals seem to be pouring out of the jungle. My first thought is, I have to FLEE!

Don’t Miss the Miracle!

At first I missed the miracle because it wasn’t what I wanted. All the cancer was supposed to be gone. When this wasn’t the case I was disappointed and frustrated. It took a minute to actually sink in. “What did you say? What were the results?” The cancer was stopped in its tracks. There was no new growth and what there was had receded by ¼ to ½ . The doctor couldn’t believe it. For the first time since we met she brightened up. She smiled and almost hugged me. She seemed shocked by the outcome of the PET scan. Her experience is that the usual outcome for cancer like mine is 180° from what we were now seeing. A medical miracle!

For some reason the universe wants me on the love boat for four more rounds of chemo. I may or may not find out that reason but I have found out that if I participate with joy, the outcome is always positive. A positive action cannot have a negative result; that’s the law.

Once again I am startled by my expectations. How long before I can let what is just be? What a great adventure! As I practice creating a space between myself and my reaction to events; I am amazed at how everything that enters my life is for my benefit. This understanding is starting to enter my heart and is changing everything. To joyfully and willingly receive what comes is not my first thought; it was not even possible until I started to wake up. Read More

“God Bless Everyone, No Exceptions!”

By Bill Fifield

Living a spiritual life means the exposure of my fear. I had no idea to the depth my fear went. It ruled my entire life. Every thought word and action was based on fear. Going through the 12 Steps started to show me where the fear was born, where the lie that I am not good enough started. How could I love you when I was such a piece of trash?

As long as I can remember I did my best to avoid doing something wrong and to prevent punishment. I wasn’t very good at it and soon started to blame myself. None of this made for a very good life. The only escape was through drugs and alcohol. The amazing thing about addiction is the unawareness of the power of its hold. I was trapped and could only see you through the haze of my madness. I had to judge you; it was the only way to keep from looking at myself. I was able to say to -myself, “Thank God you are so sick; I don’t have to look at me!” When all this self-absorption crashed under its own negative weight, my selfishness stood in painful clarity.

“Love Boat”

As I sit here on the “Love Boat” holding Sandy’s hand on my last day of chemo, I am overwhelmed with gratitude and compassion. Everyone here is hurting or dying and most are scared to death. To be in a position to reach out, to be an example of the positive, to touch them, to listen to their stories is a gift that has to be experienced. Since we are in the same “boat” approaching them is easy. I give them each a card with the magic words and they light up. It’s a feeling of a joyful planting, knowing that only good can come from a positive act, no matter how small.

It has taken twenty years to get here. From the absolute nadir of despair to a life of happy, joyous freedom at first has to take a lot of effort. The habit of a lifetime took some doing to turn to a different direction. Automatic negative thinking and a curious twist of the mind made being useful in any way almost impossible. Everything seemed to be screwed and I thought I liked it like that. I didn’t realize that just because my reaction was automatic doesn’t mean it wasn’t a decision. I thought I was a victim of my circumstances; I didn’t know that I had a choice. Being a victim keeps me from a life of true freedom; it prevented me from experiencing the wondrous rewards of performing a simple act of kindness. To see people light up, to respond, and to see that spread across the room fills my heart with joy.

Is There Help For My Fear?

Fear is an instinct, not a character defect. It seems to be a part of the human condition package everyone gets at birth consisting of sex, security, society and the search for spirituality or meaning of life. Our primal fears make sense, sort of, they are: fear of starving, fear of freezing, and fear of being eaten. The chances of any of this happening today are pretty slim although possible.

The 12 Steps helped to uncover some of my other basic driving fears; fears that rule my life. When I am in fear I cannot be any further into myself. What I uncovered in the recovery process is the fear that I am not enough. It became a self-fulfilling prophesy. I gathered evidence for this lie in every area of my life.

“Good News”

After nearly 3 months of constant care, I got to watch as Bill jumped into our SUV and drove off to a men’s retreat in Estes Park for the whole weekend. I was invited to come along to act as nurse but his eyes and stamina have been steadily getting better and better during this last month and he wanted to do it all by himself. I felt such bittersweet relief that we had made it to this point.

Last week we went for a follow up MRI to see if the fourteen days of whole brain radiation treatments were successful in stopping the growth of the tumor that was left in his brain after surgery. We sat in the surgeon’s office anxiously awaiting the results. As the good Dr.Vollmer looked at the images on the computer monitor, he did a double take as he looked at the screen, then brought up the original MRI to check what he was seeing. Sure enough the small (pea-sized) tumor was gone—no visible trace left—and the shadows of the larger (egg-sized) tumor that had been removed were virtually non-existent. With restrained optimism he expressed his pleasure with the results and said that we will do a follow-up MRI in three months.

Now, two more cycles of chemo and the lung lesion (unwanted guest) will be in the cosmic dump as well. The prayers and love from all our friends are doing the job. The chemo makes Bill’s mouth taste like he’s been sucking on a penny. His appetite is one-half of what it was and that one-half is tinged with nausea, so we’ve been on a nostalgia recipe kick. How about some meatloaf with mashed potatoes, pork steak with corn, tuna casserole with potato chips, and root beer floats? Good grief—it’s like being transported back to our childhoods in the fifties!

“The End of Act Two”

With the installation of the Power Port in the upper right part of my chest, the curtain came down on Act Two of this drama in my life. Act One was the discovery of the cancer, the subsequent removal of the brain tumor it spawned and receipt of all the information about what we will do about the whole situation in the future. It seemed joyous; I was filled with gratitude and acceptance. It’s not about me. Oh, it hurt, was uncomfortable and boring but it was about what could I bring, how can I help? What is the meaning of life? Helpfulness to others.

Going into Act Two, I knew I was responsible for every thought word or action that comes from me. As the fourteen radiation treatments on my brain started, the effects of the Act One medications became really apparent. Combine that with the exhaustion from the radiation and I started losing ground. I was told to watch out for shortness of breath but I honestly didn’t recognize it when it started to happen. What a surprise to have a pain like a nail being driven into my left knee. It was excruciating and began to travel down my leg. Monday morning of my last week of radiation, the nurse in the office didn’t like my limp and sore leg, so she sent me for a CT scan to discover a blood clot and it’s off to the emergency room for us. We are sent home with blood thinners. The next day back for day twelve of radiation. Now I am really short of breath, I’m limping and hobbling along. Now the nurse is angry. “How could they let you go?”

The Value of Silence

Why is Recovery THE Answer?

“PARTNERSHIP”

Don’t Miss the Miracle!

“God Bless Everyone, No Exceptions!”

“Love Boat”

Is There Help For My Fear?

“Good News”

“The End of Act Two”

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