Victoria Falls and the Beauty of Contradictions
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Terri Wingham is the founder and CEO of A Fresh Chapter, a cancer survivor, and someone who believes that we are not defined by the most difficult aspects of our story. |
A surge of cold, angry water crashes over my hood and slides down the beige plastic of my flimsy poncho. When I look up to my right, past the wall of mist and water, I see a vivid rainbow slicing the corner of blue sky in half.
The smell of wet grass and freshly washed air mingles with the taste of minerals on my tongue and I lean back to feel the spray on my face. A shiver runs up my spine as drops of water escape to run between my collar bones and gather again in my belly button.
With gripped toes, my feet fight against sliding off the sides of my flip flops and I am grateful to the booming of the Falls for drowning out the squidging noise I make with each forward step. My hand reaches for a slimy wood railing as I splash through a shallow pool of water and pull myself up to a lookout point at the very end of the path.
When I get my footing, I lean over the rail and look down at the abyss of white water. One misstep and I could go over. The combination of my proximity to death and the beauty of life fills my throat with a baseball size lump. When uninvited tears spurt from my eyes and edge down my cheeks, I am relieved to have this corner of the Falls to myself.
Surrounded by clinging mist and roaring water, a fleeting, but intense peace blankets me and for once I am fully present. In this moment, I am safe from my fears about where life might take me and my sadness about the trip ending tomorrow. Even all of the other thoughts and worries typically circling the drain in my mind have disappeared and I stand mesmerized by what the local Kololo tribe once called “The Smoke That Thunders”.
Eventually I look down at my blue fingers and notice the bouncing of my teeth; I hesitate for only a moment longer before stepping back onto the path. As I head toward the sunshine, I meet more and more people broadcasting looks of amazement to match my own. (more…)
Comments (13)
Such a beautiful post, Terri! You nailed my JBBC guest post exactly with your question, “What if we gave ourselves permission to experience both emotions at the same time?” When I first had an inkling of cancer’s gifts in my life (many months after my mastectomy) I tried hard to ignore them, because I didn’t want to admit something so horrible had yet brought positives. I was afraid admitting that meant somehow cancer was okay. But, once I let myself write down the Gifts and Losses list, I realized the gifts did not diminish the losses. I was living them both moment by moment everyday – and I still am today. I’m so glad you had the gift of such a beautiful moment at the falls. It will sustain you.
Survival >Existence,
Debbie
Debbie,
Thank you for your response and it’s so nice to meet someone with a similar outlook. I think it’s hard to accept we can hold two emotions at the same time, but this is yet another thing that cancer has taught me. I look forward to staying connected.
Terri
Beautifully written. I savoured this posted like a sip of warm tea on a cool spring day. Thank you Terri.
Thank you Shelley and I love the eloquence of your reply! There is a beautiful writer in you…
Terri,
What a lovely post. I think this is what is so healing about nature. No where else do we experience such beauty, but also potential danger, or as it is so often said, the power of Mother Nature. I will never call cancer a gift. It’s not. It has taken too much from my family and continues to do so. I refuse to give cancer credit for the good that has come into my life since my mom’s diagnosis and then my own. I will give the credit to the people that have been there along the way and even to myself, but cancer, never.
Nancy,
Thank you so much for taking the time to comment. You’re so right. Spending time in nature is one of the most therapeutic things any of us can do when grappling with a lot of emotions. I very much respect your refusal to give cancer credit for the good that has come into your life. I think one of the most challenging things about cancer is how differently it affects each of us and how we process it. There is no cookie cutter solution for getting through treatment or reflecting back on the experience. Thank you for reminding everyone of that.
Terri
Oh Terri, what a wonderful writer you are and yes, Debbie is right – you nailed it so well. I cannot possibly add anything to this post that would be as eloquent as you have written here, except perhaps to reproduce one of my favorite poems by Kahlil Gibran on this very subject of the intermingling of joy and sorrow:
On Joy and Sorrow
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater thar sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
Marie,
Thank you so much. I love this poem and I look forward to coming back to it often. I love the line, “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” Perfection!
Terri
[…] gifts continues to attract comments and opinions – the latest being a wonderful post from Terri who writes at A Fresh Chapter on the inter-mingling of sorrow and […]
It is a powerful poem Terri and one I find myself returning to again and again these days – so glad it resonates with you too x
[…] Terri is back from her African adventures, but continues to still draw inspiration from her time spent in that country. In her latest post, she recounts her experience at Victoria Falls, and how it led her to reflect on the “ beautiful contradictions each of us face every day. Isn’t life really about those moments of faith and doubt; hope and despair; joy and sadness; and courage and fear? Moments like the pain and joy of childbirth, the fear and hope we feel when fighting cancer, the joy and sadness of falling in love, and the excitement and apprehension about changing our lives in either a minor or a major way.” […]
Loved this post and thanks to Marie for steering us here. Everyone should live a life where their teeth bounce and where we feel the warm smooth out the goosepimples.
Beautiful work!
Lauren
Lauren,
Thank you so much for your comment. I just read your Barnacle post and it really resonated with me. I have become a cancer snob and ever worse…an Africa snob. The reverse culture shock of re-entering “normal” life after both experiences can sometimes make me feel short on compassion. So, thank you for your insight and our reminder that people everywhere sometimes need just a little compassion.
Terri