Conscious Choice: When the game gets rough, call in the angels

October 2004 | Editor’s Note

When the game gets rough, call in the angels

Any job is easier if you have the right tools. And when you’re dealing with cancer, or any other life-threatening condition, the one thing you want to make sure to have in your toolbox is a direct high-speed connection to some angels.

OK, I know. There’s a cynical part in me, too, that says: “Yeah, right. Angels are about as real as the chances of the Cubs winning a World Series in this millennium. If there were any angels, a couple of them would have found their way to Wrigley Field by now.”

But I’m telling that part of me to “pipe down,” because this might actually be useful to someone else experiencing those feelings of helplessness that wash over you when you watch a loved one struggle with a terminal or life-threatening condition.

Judging from the variety of people who have come forward to share their tales, there’s a growing epidemic of cancer, diabetes and heart disease. But that’s a story for another day.

What I want to talk about is something that may help that I combined from experience and a variety of sources, including an Archangel meditation in a book entitled, “God is a Verb, Kabbalah and the Practice of Mystical Judaism” by Rabbi David A. Cooper

It’s just a suggestion for those of you who may find yourself not knowing what to do or say as you feel your heart breaking as your loved one bravely tries to convince you they are OK, when you both know that they aren’t. Or when they are moving in and out of pain or consciousness.

Or they are undergoing chemotherapy and you just want to hold their hand and tell them everything is going to be all right. But instead you’re sitting across the room, plastered against the wall, terrified you may be harboring some minor everyday germ on your clothes, your hand, your breath, that most bodies can shrug off without as so much as a sideways glance, but carries deadly consequences if it wanders over to them.

And this is for all of you who have to sit and watch as the nurses come, garbed in plastic gloves and haz-mat suits so they can pump chemicals into your beloved, warning you that for a while if your loved one so much as sneezes on you, you’ll have to re-enact the shower decontamination scene in the movie Silkwood. All the while everyone tries to act as if this is completely normal, and no one says the things they want to say. Which doesn’t matter in a way, because words don’t exist for the feelings you’re feeling. And you wonder if 50 years from now, people will ask: “What were they thinking with such treatments?” But instead you rise, and with awkward forced cheerfulness shout something stupid like: “See ya later!” from the doorway, and walk away, growing in your gut a hard pit of fear, fed by the panic of helplessness.

And I know that some of you are stumbling through your day, while most of the rest of the world appears to be engaged in some sort of control game that you don’t want to play. So you don’t know what to do, where to go, whom to talk to because you seem to be surrounded by people preoccupied with being “right” about all the wrong things and getting ahead at any cost. But now you truly understand that doesn’t count for anything in the ultimate scheme of things. So you want to shout at them: “Don’t you get it? We have such little time. Quit wasting it with all this stupid stuff that doesn’t matter!”

Trust me, if you do this, it will just complicate things.

So what should you do?

First, go home. Remove all the distractions, including people. Turn off the TV, the computer, the phone. Clean up yourself and a small space. Place a photo, your beloved’s name, any reminder, in front of you. Take some deep breaths and tell yourself that you’re exactly where you need to be, doing exactly what you need to be doing, and for this very short time, everything and everyone else can wait. Now, commit to sitting and feeling what you feel: the fear, guilt, confusion, panic, or whatever else, and ride it out until you get to what it’s covering: the heartache. That’s the place that feels as if you will break in two, but here’s the key: Don’t think of it as a break. Think of it as an opening, because that’s how the angels come in. The larger the ache, the larger the opening. Now call them in. You can call in your favorites, or here’s a suggestion:

First call in Michael, the messenger, on your right. He could come as a feeling, a color, a breeze, a wisp of a thought. Ask him to whisper in your ear the word of God, the Universe, the higher power, whatever you call it.

Even if you don’t hear him, feel him, or believe there are angels, imagine them. Think of this as a positive meditation.

Then call Gabriel, who brings strength, and arrives on your left, ready to cut through the clutter to clear the way for you to fulfill your soul’s purpose. Next comes Raphael, the healer, who has your back, supporting you. Finally call in Uriel, the light, who goes in front, showing you the way.

Now above you comes a huge ball of light. This ball rains down a healing energy that eventually enfolds you and the angels, and cradles you as a loving mother would. In his book, Rabbi Cooper calls this “Shekhina, the feminine presence of God.”

Then, in this light, imagine the angels begin dancing and spinning around you in a whirlwind. You are the calm center of this healing hurricane. Enjoy, then slowly ask the angels to go to your beloved. Or, if you can be next to the person, call in the angels to surround you both.

You don’t even have to do it out loud or let them know, if talking about such things embarrasses you. It did me, so I didn’t tell anyone about this when I did this silently, holding the hand of a family member who was drifting in and out of consciousness. I about fell over when I was told that when she finally woke up she asked where had all the angels gone?

Maybe there’s hope for the Cubs after all.

In this Issue

In this Issue: As the November election approaches, we have enlisted Deepak Chopra to explain in an exclusive article why your vote does indeed count. In addition, we have an exclusive preview by Paul Hawken of the Natural Capital Institute’s soon-to-be-released, likely controversial report on the socially responsible investing SRI mutual fund industry. In a future issue, SRI mutual fund representatives will comment on the report, as part of our effort to provide a forum for constructive debate to strengthen best practices.

And, if you enjoy Conscious Choice, you may also enjoy what our sister magazines are reporting. On Oct. 1, our national website will showcase the best work from Dragonfly magazines across North America.

— Marla Donato

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