The other day I listened to a really wonderful podcast on my morning run, where Dave Isay (the founder of StoryCorps) was interviewed on the everyday art of listening. Something which really imprinted on me was the idea that so often it’s from the edge of life that we are able to clearly see through the clutter to what really matters. It's from people who've been close to the edge, from which we can learn beautiful insights into life's great mysteries and hidden treasures. It was this idea that led me to ask Bear’s beloved a few questions around faith; life and suffering and what he’s learnt through his journey with cancer.
1. How were you first diagnosed?
I’ve always been slightly paranoid (some would say very paranoid!) about things perhaps happening to me. Flying always brings out the strangest of anxieties. When my neighbour died of colon cancer in July of 2013 I had this strange sense that I ought to get checked out. All my blood tests came back in the clear, yet I insisted on having a colonoscopy (they generally only suggest a colonoscopy if you’re over 50). They discovered a tumour which was later confirmed as being High Risk Stage 2B Cancer as it was about to break through the colon wall. A month later I had surgery to remove two thirds of my colon, followed by 6 months of chemotherapy.
2. How has your view on the fragility of life been shaped by your journey?
To use Jean Vanier’s phrase, I think I’ve always realised that we are 'fragile before our futures', but that was largely an abstract intellectual understanding. The uncertainty of the initial diagnosis and then realising that there is a one in four chance I could die from my stage of cancer made the abstract concrete, basically I shat myself!
The acute awareness of my fragility brought home all the important things in my life. Simple and obvious things like my wife, children, health, God and friends took on a whole new importance in my life. The mundane aspects of life became charged with beauty. It felt like life changed from black and white to techni-colour. Career, success and what others thought of me took a back seat, way back, they just didn’t seem as life defining as they sometimes had felt.
Recovery from the operation and then 6 months of chemotherapy made me appreciate the small benefits of good health. Just the ability to eat, drink and walk without being short of breath; things taken for granted, things now appreciated.
3.What have you found to be the most helpful tools or practices that have helped you along the way?
Although the cancer might come back there are certain things I can do that will decrease that possibility significantly. Things like exercise, healthy eating, spirituality and simply getting enough sunlight became ways I felt like I could get a measure of control back over my future. I desperately want to live and plan to give myself the best shot possible!
Journalling and trying to figure out Gods involvement in all of this was challenging at times. It led to some dark moments, which became honest moments, which then became life giving moments. I needed to reground my faith both in my head and my heart.
Close friends and family, who were present and encouraging were important. I realised that I am no island and need others when I am weak, as I do now when I am strong.
And of course reading. I read John O’Donoghue’s books ‘The Hunger to Belong’ and ‘Anam Cara’, which helped me explore the deeper dimensions of my life and where God interacts and engages with that. Also reading some of his celtic spirituality was one of the ways that would help me settle. And then some deep breathing and meditative practices; trying to become aware of the present and the space that I was in. These were also tools that would help relieve some of the anxiety I had around my fragility and possibly dying.
4. What is the greatest lesson or truth that you have learnt?
That life is precious, short and ought not to be wasted. We have no guarantees. We can’t really control our future, can’t change the past but we can embrace the present.
5. How has your view of God been shaped through this process?
As I mentioned in one of the earlier questions, I found myself caught in some dark moments. It caused me to wrestle with my faith. From the outset I chose to (and still do choose), to wrestle with the questions with God.
God has become far more mysterious and doesn’t fit many of the boxes I had, the clean crisp understandings we cultivate when life is normal. I don't understand how He works and I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He works. So, there is a wide-ness to who God is in my inability to understand and in what I have learned through this journey.
In some ways I am now exploring the difficult questions around how powerful God is and his ability to know the future. I’m contemplating getting off the Omnibus (Omnipotence, Omniscience).
6. How do you think suffering fits into the bigger picture of life’s purpose?
I don’t think there’s a really good answer for that, but as the French novelist Proust says: ‘suffering presents possibilities’, and possibilities that perhaps we wouldn't have been able to explore and engage with unless we have suffered in some way.
But having said this, those who suffer don’t necessarily use those possibilities well. So, I suppose suffering for me has enabled me to engage with God on a deeper level. It’s enabled me to appreciate the very things that are in front of my eyes that I often take for granted; as well as enabled me to enjoy the richness of life in a way that I wasn’t able to before hand. But I guess there’s different types of suffering and I suppose the girl who was raped and murdered in Melbourne last week would probably not say that she learnt much from her experience of suffering.
So I guess that’s my best attempt at an answer; that somehow God is present in our suffering and with us in it.
I’ve always been slightly paranoid (some would say very paranoid!) about things perhaps happening to me. Flying always brings out the strangest of anxieties. When my neighbour died of colon cancer in July of 2013 I had this strange sense that I ought to get checked out. All my blood tests came back in the clear, yet I insisted on having a colonoscopy (they generally only suggest a colonoscopy if you’re over 50). They discovered a tumour which was later confirmed as being High Risk Stage 2B Cancer as it was about to break through the colon wall. A month later I had surgery to remove two thirds of my colon, followed by 6 months of chemotherapy.
2. How has your view on the fragility of life been shaped by your journey?
To use Jean Vanier’s phrase, I think I’ve always realised that we are 'fragile before our futures', but that was largely an abstract intellectual understanding. The uncertainty of the initial diagnosis and then realising that there is a one in four chance I could die from my stage of cancer made the abstract concrete, basically I shat myself!
The acute awareness of my fragility brought home all the important things in my life. Simple and obvious things like my wife, children, health, God and friends took on a whole new importance in my life. The mundane aspects of life became charged with beauty. It felt like life changed from black and white to techni-colour. Career, success and what others thought of me took a back seat, way back, they just didn’t seem as life defining as they sometimes had felt.
Recovery from the operation and then 6 months of chemotherapy made me appreciate the small benefits of good health. Just the ability to eat, drink and walk without being short of breath; things taken for granted, things now appreciated.
3.What have you found to be the most helpful tools or practices that have helped you along the way?
Although the cancer might come back there are certain things I can do that will decrease that possibility significantly. Things like exercise, healthy eating, spirituality and simply getting enough sunlight became ways I felt like I could get a measure of control back over my future. I desperately want to live and plan to give myself the best shot possible!
Journalling and trying to figure out Gods involvement in all of this was challenging at times. It led to some dark moments, which became honest moments, which then became life giving moments. I needed to reground my faith both in my head and my heart.
Close friends and family, who were present and encouraging were important. I realised that I am no island and need others when I am weak, as I do now when I am strong.
And of course reading. I read John O’Donoghue’s books ‘The Hunger to Belong’ and ‘Anam Cara’, which helped me explore the deeper dimensions of my life and where God interacts and engages with that. Also reading some of his celtic spirituality was one of the ways that would help me settle. And then some deep breathing and meditative practices; trying to become aware of the present and the space that I was in. These were also tools that would help relieve some of the anxiety I had around my fragility and possibly dying.
4. What is the greatest lesson or truth that you have learnt?
That life is precious, short and ought not to be wasted. We have no guarantees. We can’t really control our future, can’t change the past but we can embrace the present.
5. How has your view of God been shaped through this process?
As I mentioned in one of the earlier questions, I found myself caught in some dark moments. It caused me to wrestle with my faith. From the outset I chose to (and still do choose), to wrestle with the questions with God.
God has become far more mysterious and doesn’t fit many of the boxes I had, the clean crisp understandings we cultivate when life is normal. I don't understand how He works and I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He works. So, there is a wide-ness to who God is in my inability to understand and in what I have learned through this journey.
In some ways I am now exploring the difficult questions around how powerful God is and his ability to know the future. I’m contemplating getting off the Omnibus (Omnipotence, Omniscience).
6. How do you think suffering fits into the bigger picture of life’s purpose?
I don’t think there’s a really good answer for that, but as the French novelist Proust says: ‘suffering presents possibilities’, and possibilities that perhaps we wouldn't have been able to explore and engage with unless we have suffered in some way.
But having said this, those who suffer don’t necessarily use those possibilities well. So, I suppose suffering for me has enabled me to engage with God on a deeper level. It’s enabled me to appreciate the very things that are in front of my eyes that I often take for granted; as well as enabled me to enjoy the richness of life in a way that I wasn’t able to before hand. But I guess there’s different types of suffering and I suppose the girl who was raped and murdered in Melbourne last week would probably not say that she learnt much from her experience of suffering.
So I guess that’s my best attempt at an answer; that somehow God is present in our suffering and with us in it.