Dolli and I have been doing a podcast together for some time, and I thought I would share one of our episodes on my podcast, From the Jaws of the Lion. In this episode, we discuss truth, the difficulties of expressing it, the fears, the concerns, the qualms and in some instances, the healing aspects. I have decided to share this episode because I discuss how speaking my truth with family proved to be instrumental in my healing journey. In the future, I plan to do more interview episodes and discussions concerning healing with others.

From the podcast: “…the door shuts behind me. The cloudy, early evening is glowing, washed in light, silver blue and fading purple. The driveway is damp and the leaves of the maple and hawthorn tree are dark green from the rain. Streetlamps are flickering into life and I fix my hair, touching it, making sure the gel is settling, the crunchy feel. Lena’s voice still pleasantly circling in my mind, her voice a teasing happiness…. I ring the doorbell and Pat answers it with a half-laughing smile. ‘They’re waiting for you downstairs.’ She chuckles again and, my stomach drops, a small voice behind me, on the other side of the screen nags at me to leave but, then I think, why, why should I? Lena asked me over. She was adamant and I want to oblige her.

From the podcast: “The piece, this little piano tune I have recorded, is actually Edvard Grieg’s ‘Arietta’ from his first lyric suite. While working and perfecting this work, I had the image of Carolyn in mind. Arietta means a ‘small aria’, a small song and in this wistful tune, there is the higher voice gliding above the other chords. And that voice, to me, feels like it is in pain and yet striving, like a baby bird, to take flight. Or perhaps, it is more like a wounded bird, remembering again how to fly.”

From the podcast: “The last time… she went outside. The wind caught her black hair. Her lips moved fast as she spoke. Watching her on the pavement, pace back and forth, black phone to her ear, I sipped my wine trying to enjoy what little I could of her presence. But also the dark comedy of it all. I was foolish, wasn’t I? I was not some Arthurian knight looking at his beloved. No. This was a strained comedy.”

From the podcast: “On the drive from Victoria to Nanaimo, up island, I had to keep myself calm. I was anxious. I was dreading the hospital. When Dr. Harman mentioned going to emergency to drop off the paperwork, how long would the wait be? I thought of the emergency room waits from the past: the General in May 2002 - that had been nearly six hours; the Hotel Dieu in 2003, February… seven hours; then McMaster, before I was admitted, I had to wait about ten hours. I didn’t know if I could last another long session like that….”

From the podcast: “The evening air, so fresh off the water, a calming aroma of stone and sea salt with a back drop of downtown Victoria twinkling across the waters of West Bay. And for a moment, amidst the empty patio tables with the steel legs, I didn’t feel worried, wearied or lost. Sometimes the moon shone and it was like a painting. … and me… I was invisible….”

From the podcast: “His accent was thick, baritone while his wife, who popped her head from the around the corner, Valerie, she had that slight, endearing French Canadian accent. Very welcoming. I slipped off my shoes. Took a deep breath. Their home smelled of incense, Indian spices and there were numerous Yin Yang designs everywhere. Old wooden floor boards. A spacious backyard with terrace, each one numerous with plants and vegetables. Everything about the place reminded me of the ideal kind of home. A good energy, or so I figured."…”

From the podcast: “I reminded him, that former life no longer exists. The life forward, the life ahead, offers more wellness than the life of the past. In many ways, we become sick because of the life before the illness. The life of the past, in that other, different country, namely the past… we have to understand and accept that it wasn’t so ideal. The idyll of being unaware is not preferable. Of course, being ill is unfortunate but the lessons of illness, and the path of overcoming lead us into a newer, great territory of self discovery.”

From the podcast: “Cradling my hand in his office, Dr. Connor sat perched on his desk once more, my chart in his yellow file. I stared mostly down at the floor, swaying back and forth. It wasn’t leukemia. It was low blood. How low…?” I asked. “Guess….”

From the podcast: “Alex was waking up when I knocked on the door. I was getting angry. But scared. Old nightmares of home… they had followed me here. The shock and the comedy of it all was fading. When I heard Christine and her brother, Dan, laughing about me…. I became suddenly furious…”

From the podcast: “While in The Life Before Him, I touched on certain aspects of my life; today, I want to focus on certain themes in my life or rather, certain constants. Certain staples. And focus on relationships I have not yet touched upon and doing that I want to examine the spaces I’ve lived in, the place I’ve inhabited.”

From the podcast: “I wanted to punch the walls and tear out the light fixtures when I heard this. I didn’t have to know what the message related… I knew in my brother’s voice, I knew… Mark, he sat there, brows either lowered in concentration or anger, at the dining room table; in front of him, his macro- and microeconomics textbooks spread out in a chaotic jumble. He jotted out notes, didn’t look up and in the coldest voice, said, ‘check the messages…’”

From the podcast: “The clear hot liquid quickly became brown and red. I slapped the water rushing out of the faucet over my caked skin. Red streams flowed over my ankles and the insides of my legs. Grabbing the soap, I scrubbed with a fury at the traces of blood, like a half-maddened Lady MacBeth.”

From the podcast: “The sleepy voice was immediately reassuring and my heart, beating, pounding, started to settle. However, there was one piece of information I withheld from her. That the doctor gave me a two week window left to live…”

From the podcast: “Many destinies weave themselves next to mine, being plays them out together, intertwined,
And my lone part is more than this’s life slender flame and all-too-narrow lyre.”