From half marathon to the death dance

One week brought a new cancer diagnosis, a profound decision, and an invitation to live the time I have left with intention, gratitude, and awe.

It regularly surprises me how life can and does change on a dime. In an instant.

In my previous blog post, published on June 15th, I wrote about living as if tomorrow isn’t promised. I talked about the status of the cancer in my body as I understood it to be in mid-June. I got to spin on a dime after that 4th Garry Bjorklund Half Marathon.  

June 26th, 1981 is the day I was officially diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. I was 16 on that day way back then.  

As a result, June 26, 2026 was my 45th Diaversary, the anniversary when my life completely changed. For the first time. 

On June 26, 2026, I went for an ultrasound of my right chest wall and I learned that the cancer nodules where I had a mastectomy in 2010 are growing. Let that sink in. The cancer in my body is growing. 

A New Diagnosis

I went to see my oncologist on July 2nd and learned that I now have an official diagnosis of recurrent metastatic breast cancer.  

The reality of that apparent truth is hitting me hard. It’s the third breast cancer I’ve faced. 

I’ve decided to stop fighting it. 

Instead, I’m choosing to devote the time I have left to living as fully, consciously, and lovingly as I know how.

No more Western medications. I’ve done practically all of the Western medicines: chemotherapy, hormone therapy, radiation, surgery. Enduring the treatments was painful, mind fogging, exhausting and debilitating. Enough is enough. Quality vs quantity matters to me. 

Choosing Quality of Life

I will continue to live as intentionally, healthfully and as appreciative of awe and beauty as I have for the past 22 years since breast cancer diagnosis number one at age 39 in October 2004. 

I go to weekly acupuncture with a skilled acupuncturist who works with many who have cancer. I continue to heal my trauma. I meditate daily. I exercise daily. I plank daily and do my mobility routine for balance and strength. I eat healthy whole foods. I have a beautiful circle of friends. I have a job I love and I will work at it as long as makes sense. I will continue my daily practice of touching trees in gratitude for support, walking my dog, and finding wonder and awe as I wake up each day and dance with the divinity everywhere around and within us. 

How I Choose to Live

And as all of the above is true, I acknowledge the likelihood of the soon arriving death of this human body. My oncologist acknowledged that it’s most likely that at most I will have two years to live in this body. Because I am foregoing Western cancer treatments, it’s very possible I will have 5 to 6 more months of feeling good. Then the cancer will spread. To my lungs, to my bones, to my lymph system. 

I still believe in miracles and magic. I am both a dreamer and a realist. I shall take advantage of the time I have left. My dear friend Tammy reminded me a few days ago that I am someone who doesn’t waste time. Now that becomes ever more important. 

Preparing for the Journey

I am profoundly grateful for the hours and hours of Holotropic Breathwork I have done, much of it with Kylea Taylor, Jim Schofield, Tav Sparks, Lynda Greibenow, Jeanine Klotzkin, Stephen Dinan, Matthew Stelzner, Diane Haug and Stan Grof, the creator of the process. I also appreciate the near-death experience I had when I attempted suicide in 2013. 

What I Know About Death

I know first hand that death is an illusion and my consciousness shall carry on when this body gives out. I will chant and hum and call in my Angels and Guides and Guardians. I know, feel and experience the connection of and to all as I transition out of this human body. Whenever that time arrives. 

Thank You

I write this blog today as I’m making an effort to say thank you to as many as possible as I begin this ending journey. 

Today this body I live in feels quite good. This morning I ran 9.5 miles along the Mississippi River with my run club. Nothing hurts. I’m not short of breath. I don’t have brain fog. How long that will continue is unknown. 

Thank you readers of this blog and of my recent book. Thank you for seeing me. For holding me. For reminding me of my value and of the beauty of this life. 

The Beginning of My Death Dance

Today marks the launch of my Death Dance Blog. It will be right here on this website. I hope to add a few videos of me talking about the process of dancing with death. Nothing too lengthy, just enough to reassure everyone that I am still here in my right mind as I begin this dance. My hope is to write and post at least twice a month, perhaps more often, until I no longer can. I hope you will join me as I share what I learn and discover, from the ordinary and mundane to the deep and transformative. 

Hand on my heart with love,

Mari