Twisted Path to the Present Moment

The moments in my life that have altered my direction of pursuit are much more in number than I would have ever guessed. Timing would have to be perfect for me to be where I am now. The cliché, “You play the cards you were dealt”, adds a bigger excuse or perhaps a larger understanding of why life does what it does.

I’ve read many books and articles about manifesting what we want in life. In my own experience, I have manifested many things, and I didn’t realize it until they were in the present moment. Looking back, I can now see how they were the start of a sequence of events that put me where I am now.

When I was a senior in high school I was preparing to be launched into the adult world by both my education, and my parents. My mother’s famous quote was, “I hope the hell you don’t think you’re going to live here the rest of your life, Buster!” My high school reputation was a mixed persona. I frequently got into fights and was a supporter of the underdog. This often put me in the position of body guard for the weaker person being threatened or harassed, and I didn’t take much grief from anyone who challenged me either. I also was a loner most of the time which led people to form opinions about me without really knowing me.

On the other hand, I was hard working and liked to write, especially poetry. Oddly enough, my dislike for the mundane practice lessons in typing class led me to having a book of poetry published. (I’ll tell you that story later!) It seemed very unusual to have so much positive attention, and it inspired in me a want for more education, but at the time I felt college was out of my reach.

Nearing the end of high school, graduation only a couple of weeks away, there was one incident that turned out to be unexpectedly life changing.  My class was the first to graduate from a newly built school, and on this particular day, a newspaper reporter was talking to our principal about the new school building we had been attending for the past six months. They were walking around the not yet landscaped grounds and discussing the plans in progress. I was watching, and noticed the principal reprimand a male and female student for holding hands while leaning on each other and talking during lunch break. It appeared harmless to me and everyone around, and his comments in front of the reporter were humiliating to them. For some reason, it really got to me. I thought it was unnecessary and demeaning, and I felt he owed them an apology for choosing to embarrass them in front of the reporter.

I decided to take it upon myself to straighten him out, and waited until lunch break was over and went to the school secretary. I remember being really upset, and felt determined to find the principal and tell him I felt it necessary he apologize to the two students. Noticing my clenched fists and angry look, the secretary Continue reading

Poem, The Trail We Crossed

Soft pine carpet

Where birds silently land

And gentle rain disappears

My love beside me

Beneath a towering canopy

Of green shade

A place of heavenly rest

Of warm hope for future dreams

The brook speaks in a calming voice

The trail we crossed

Stopped here so our minds could wander

Love within and beauty in view

This place of spaciousness

Contains the things to give me passage

To look beyond this day

And turn memories into smiles of contentment

And wishes into tomorrow’s happiness

© Rick Wyman

Feeling Well Enough To Write Again

 

WoodCross

Thanks for reading my blog again. I wish to apologize for the past month of being absent. I have been extremely ill. For several weeks I have been unable to eat or drink normally. It all culminated with violent pain in my abdomen due to a catastrophic perforated ulcer. After an ambulance ride and emergency surgery, I awoke with a large scar and much diminished ability to function. I had never had pain like that in all my years, and with all my surgeries and broken bones. Fortunately for me, I have a remarkably supportive wife and some friends and family who have helped to make the road back home easier after a 6 day hospital stay. I’ve been home for about a week, but the trauma of adjusting to a patch in my stomach and trying to ease from clear liquids to full liquids and some soft foods is not as easy as I thought. Things were bleak, but now there is a whole new chance to get back to healing my cancer and enjoying my home and family.

What I didn’t realize is that there is also a psychological beating that goes along with my emergency journey. The worse I felt emotionally, the less appetizing food became, and I began to worry about failure. The thought of failure meant the worry of a shorter future. Having those heavy weights on my mind, stress is a huge part of my daily life, and I struggle to not become too depressed. My patience has become much shorter with everyone, and everything I am trying to accomplish seems farther away.

I’ve been battling this disease using natural therapy for 3 ½ years. Things were going well and I had beaten many of the odds given me by the traditional institutions and their treatment regimens. Doctors are very unwilling to budge from their views and accept my wishes for this route of therapy. I had at one point shrunk my largest tumor by 1 ½ centimeters and my then oncologist was very unwilling to give me any credit for my success. Her words were that I had done a tiny bit of improvement. It was at the time very discouraging and shook my confidence, so I began searching for different alternative therapies. After a time I allowed a scan and the doctor called a meeting to tell me my tumor had grown “a lot”. I attended with my wife and there were three professionals in the room. The oncologist I was working with told me somberly that it was time to now pursue full blown chemotherapy and there wasn’t time to wait. I asked how much a lot was, and was told it had grown 1 full centimeter. By my calculations, I was still ahead by half a centimeter, and after an exchange of numbers and images of my scan, I was very skeptical of their findings. My trust in the doctor waned, and I decided against the chemo, which I still view basically as poison.

I spent a lot of time since researching therapy choices and tried a variety of them. I eventually came to the conclusion that the one that had originally shrunk the tumor, the Budwig protocol,  was the best fit for me. It had worked once, so I will assume with my diligence it will work again. A little over two months ago, I started again with full force. I also added some complementary nutritional therapies into my schedule. Perhaps, in my enthusiasm to rid myself of disease, I overlooked the fact that there are side effects of successful cancer cell die off. Once cancer cells die they become toxic and cause huge negative effects, and the body needs to be detoxed through the liver and kidneys especially. Now I know I need to take detoxing very seriously and try to be aware of symptoms. I am also aware that stress could also have contributed to my ulcer, and will try hard to keep it in check.

The road is not an easy one, but it can be done. Positive thinking and education along with supportive family will lead me to a longer future. Love is a key ingredient to make things happen. Thanking God that I was able to make it through this set back in my life.

Please keep reading and stick with me. I’ll keep writing.

(c) Rick Wyman

First Solo Driving Experience… Not Good.

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I’ve decided to move up to my adolescent years for this post, and tell the story about my first solo driving experience. I was, of course, 16 years of age and had successfully completed my driving test in Vermont at the DMV in Springfield. The vehicle I used was a CJ -5 canvas top Willys Jeep. The color was a kind of emerald green and the windows around the perimeter were canvas framed sheets of plastic. My father had removed them so I could have maximum visibility and add to my chances of passing the road test. Starting and stopping on a hill was one of the most difficult

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My First Prayer Answered

Rick First Prayer Answered

There are lots of reasons for believing in God. As a child it is sometimes difficult to remember one particular incident or moment when we actually decided there is a God and are aware of his presence. As a very young boy, my mother took me to church with her. My father brought us to the actual building and let us off and would read the paper or run errands and come back to pick us up after the service was over. I had some semblance of belief, and would follow the Sunday school lessons and learn about Christian history from the bible. Though I was very young, I actually do remember the time that cemented the belief that prayers could Continue reading