Paracentesis#10: metastatic Breast cancer treatment side effects

Today marks my 10th Paracentesis aka periocentesis. Now my abdominal organs can get properly seated after six weeks of fluid build up.

There’s several narratives in the emergency room. The ER patient’s story, and the stories of minimally 12 people whose aim should look through a scope to find the best possible outcome for the patient.

Our history gets passed on like a game of telephone from doctor to doctor to doctor. Entropy, or a lack of predictably. Entropy increases as the narrative of our illness gets passed from physician to physician because no one remembers every little thing about your case.

That is, everyone with the exception of me – the patient. Even in the hospital during periodic stays, nurses changing shifts play a short game for about seven hours. We tell and retell our stories three to four sometimes more a day.

But, we live in our bodies 24/7/365. Our caregivers – all of them – spend very little time undertaking the spectrum of information to paint a completed picture of our health situation. I’ve always wondered why, especially in the context of a terminal illness the new physician, the former physician and the patients don’t have a transition meeting or appointment.

Communictions of this kind certainly would create a better handoff, files and all. Scary I’m shocked to have only found out that my heretofore missing genetic mutation test that had indeed found a broken wrung in the twisted ladder of my DNA. The genetic counselors missed it, my beloved Stanford oncologist missed it, the second troupe of genetics testers at Stanford missed the entire reply from Foundation one.

My new UC Davis Oncologist asked the question about mutation three that caused my former oncologist but still engaging in colleges to look back at the report and found the mutation. This opens up several new treatment protocols to me and I was happy that she asked about it. It is a good start to a good relationship. I hope.

The Poetics of a Patient

We retell our narratives from our own perspectives to tamp down the amount of somewhat predictable chaos. Missing and misread tests and our own views of our symptoms and side effects may not carry forward. We become an incomplete picture. Kind of like looking at a Cubist or Fauvist painting. The details lost in our faces and bodies. We become impressions of our once whole selves. Just as Impressionism gave rise to Picasso and Braque. More stripping away of the face, the expressions of the subjects they painted.

In art that’s up to the viewer to interpret. Yet none of the paintings themselves had any say so in what they look like in the end. They also didn’t receive radiation treatments or chemotherapy.

Painting a picture of health

Picasso’s Lady in a Hat

The side effects of the paintings were in the faces of the viewers. The side effects of the patient are in the patient. It’s up to us to give the doctors a good enough description or narrative to go along with what ails us and from what we believe those painful effects arise.

It’s up to our doctor to interpret our narrative – They combine our words with facts they learned in medical school and from their experience as doctors. They’ve seen cases like ours before. But no two people are alike, just as no two paintings are alike. Even a copy of a painting is not an exact replica of the original.

Oncologists become like the viewers of a painting. We are like the painting. But who then is the artist? We’re not the artist unless of course we lie about our conditions. The artist stands somewhere in between our selves and everyone involved in treating our conditions and side effects. I’m not sure if that artist is what some people would call “god” or some people might say is the “soul.”

But in the end it really doesn’t matter. What matters to the patient is that we recover as best as we are capable.

No one sees the artist at the museum. In fact who even knows if we’re looking at the real Mona Lisa. She could be a copy. That tricky La Jocond.

Yet we become words in a computer system and films of pictures inside our bodies. We get there by taking treatments or curatives. Our curators as doctors relate our tales from one to the next. Somethings go missing in the retelling of our stories. The mind doesn’t lie. It can play tricks on us. We might not remember everything exactly as it transpired.

Other opinions find themselves showing up in the story of our illness. It’s important as good self advocates to not fear reading. Reading the broad overview beginning to now to preserve the integrity and scan for evtropy. The chaos finds its way into our stories. It’s up to us to keep as much chaos out of the systems as possible.

By now, after six years, three main oncologists – doctors not including the emergency room where my husband rushed my pained and dehydrated body one night in March of 2015. The resulting diagnosis: hormone receptor positive, lobular invasive carcinoma with sporadic metastases to the bones.

In other words, metastatic breast cancer. No language can describe the emotional state of which a terminal prognosis leaves a patient. Some practitioners of various specialities conclude that post traumatic stress disorder results from a diagnosis of a death sentence. It’s no wonder many with MBC reject the “war” metaphors to describe our lives post-diagnosis. Presumably in any war there’s a winner and a loser. Losers don’t die. Everyone dies.

Only terminally ill people know from what they will die. There’s no abstraction of death anymore although we live side by side with it from the day we’re born. Some choose to silence death among the way to meet it at the end of our road taken. Still others face it and learn from it that as this is the moment that matters most. And only this breath we take is what we control.

Between life and death

The visceral and immediate awareness coats those of us with a terminal prognosis with a frightening mirror like substance. Everyone can see themselves reflected in your soul, but few stick around. Fear of their own demise shines in your eyes. Deep within us the fire of life slowly extinguishes. Some sniffed out faster than others

Not so coincidentally in the days and weeks when we feel terrible, we think more about dying. The very normalcy of our lives vanishes. It disappears with friends and people we thought wouldn’t leave us in hard times. The hardest times of our lives in the acceptance of our own mortality. Some of us cut short. Some sat before our time.

I believe in the soul. Perhaps not in the same way others do; we all seek redemption of sorts. Yet, there’s atheists, non spiritualists who believe when we die that’s it. But the energy we produced when we lived cannot be destroyed according to the first law of thermodynamics.

That law of physics, or the conservation of energy, claims it cannot be created nor destroyed. If energy is the ability to do work – at the cellular level in humans – our mitochondria turning fuel into gas to run all of our physical systems. The brain included.

Our energy, our entropy

Entropy takes over when death removes the mind from the body.In my mind anyway, energy is transferred from one form to another, some is lost as heat. And as the energy decreases, the disorder increases.

Perhaps we dissipate – dissolve like dust into the infinite vastness of space. Perhaps we recombine to become the reincarnated souls in newly born beings.

We just can’t know now, dear death, the secret of life and our great democratizor. No one can know what’s to become of us once we die. Do we even get to tell our own versions of our lives or do we live without control of our fate. We won’t know here in this reality.

I think about such things at 3:03 am as in the moment before I’ll publish this post. It’s where my control remains for the time being. In this voice, in my own narrative. I can say what I choose.

Narrative of the patient vs the nurse practitioners

This next narrative reads vastly more dry than my own: a patient with an appointment in a teaching hospital. In this scenario four or five constituents aim for and find the best possible outcome for my ailments.

Because of a coordinated effort beginning with an oncologist meeting and listening to the physical and sometimes emotional challenges faced by a woman with six years of history. A woman only as interesting as the narrative by the attentive and skillful nurse practitioner and her intern:

ULTRASOUND-GUIDED PARACENTESIS
EXAM DATE: 2/26/2021 2:09 PM
COMPARISON: None

INDICATION: Signs/Symptoms: Metastatic breast cancer, needing therapeutic
paracentesis. Establishing care at UCD. Please send for cytology

PROCEDURE PERSONNEL:
Attending: Hsiu Jan Chen
Other: Supervising physician: MD.Vu

TECHNIQUE:
Informed consent was obtained from the patient.

Prior to the start of the procedure, all Universal Protocol steps,
including a pre-procedure verification process, verification of the
procedure site, and a time-out were performed with all relevant personnel
in the room. All elements of maximal sterile barrier technique were used,
including hand hygiene and cutaneous antisepsis.

A large amount of fluid was identified by ultrasound in the right upper
quadrant. The proposed needle tract was interrogated with Doppler and no
significant blood vessels were identified. The patient was then marked,
prepped, and draped in usual sterile fashion.

Under ultrasound guidance, the area was infiltrated with 1% lidocaine for
local anaesthesia and a 4-French Yueh catheter was advanced into the fluid
collection. Upon completion, the catheter was withdrawn, the patient's skin
was cleansed, and a sterile dressing was placed.

The patient tolerated the procedure well.

COMPLICATIONS: None immediate..

FINDINGS/
IMPRESSION:
1. Successful ultrasound-guided therapeutic and diagnostic paracentesis
with removal of 4.7L of dark serosanguineous fluid.
2. Fluid labelled and sent to lab for diagnostic studies.

Final Report Electronically Signed By: Hsiu Jan Chen on 2/26/2021 3:57 PM
Nearly five liters removed each weighs 2.7 lbs

Radiation Therapy, Trauma or Both?

This story begins back in October of 2020 with radiation treatments. A tumor on my internal L4 vertebrae lit up like a star on the films from a CT scan with radioactive contrast. Radiation damages soft tissue including lymph nodes in its path to reach its intended target.

During these six “easy” sessions I felt incredibly fatigued and in six uneasy pieces. My side effucks seemed far worse than I understood as normal. Friends who underwent much greater rads described far greater relief and less fatigue. Immediately the neuropathy I’d worked so hard to alleviate reawakened with a vengeance in both hands.

I let my oncologist know enough was enough. So I stopped after six of the prescribed 10 sessions. My gut told me both physically and emotionally that six shots killed the tumor. I madd the right choice given the destruction continued to cause side effucks even now, half a year later.

Hospitality and Hospital: same prefix, different meanings

I stood letting the intake nurse on duty at Sutter ER in Roseville, California in on my diagnosis with MBC and that I’m neutropenic meaning my white blood cell count falls short of the low end of 4 (normal = 4 through 11). 2.7 equated for my wbc count on that day.

Instead of letting the the physician who performs the hour or so long, low impact procedure I sat waiting for some blood work results, he went home. The nurse Informed me that he would be paged the next morning but possibly not be coming in until Monday. This was after five hours of prep, being ignored, more prep including having my power port x-rated and then tapped to intake the radioactive contrast for a CT Scan. That was when they told me that I would be transferred over to observation not to the oncology floor. A place presumably full of Covid sufferers.

That was when I lost my mind.

In a recent post from December of 2020, Hearts and Bones, Hope and Stones tells of paracentesesis number nine. That story ends after four hours and a successful draining of 5.5 liters of Ascites at the same hospital.

Yet I self aborted my attempt at finding some relief of an uncomfortable and painful belly – I hadn’t eaten, couldn’t skipped, my feet began to swell like “two balloons.” I wasn’t “comfortably numb” I felt as angry as my insides tried to get outsid.

Paracentesis number 10

Yet instead of leaving 17 lbs lighter, a kind nurse ushered me out to my car at 11 pm at the hospital that professionally drained me back in December.

She just been to visit her 80-year-old father. He has cancer too. She went to hug him before she left to get your plane home and he put on his arm and said no honey you can’t hug me. You’re a nurse and I have cancer. He had me at his vaccinations and she wasn’t sure why. She told me she cried all that night on the way home.

She told me that was no place for me and that there were people with Covid. She told me I would most certainly wind up contracting the disease if I ever spent another moment there. Kindly and quickly took out the plug into my chest wall power port. This certainly won’t become a part of the hospital narrative.

Relief never felt so bad

I found relief this Friday afternoon. A full week after my hospital ordeal. As the liter jugs filled up with a brownish fluid, I felt gurgles and swishes inside and could breathe as my diaphragm found room to inhale deeply and my oxygen levels rose from 93 to 100. My weight dropped off of my 6’ frame from 168 to 151 pounds.

My friend waited for me in my car to drive me home. Gratefulness washed over me like love. The sunshine hit my cheeks.

That morning for no reason at all I awoke from a deep sleep at 6 am. I found the full moon setting on the left side of me and the sun rising on right. I stood between both. I smiled knowing equilibrium would soon be introduced into my chaotic system.

And I smiled.

Days of Futures Past

Would what I know today have helped me in the past? Circumstances change with every decision and what and who play roles in our lives constantly shift like sand on a beach. The ocean’s tides ever flow, but never continually the same so the charts must change with them and the shifting of the depths we cannot see beneath us. So anxious minds consider, “if only I’d known then what I know now,” beating themselves up with the knowledge they never could have known before that very moment. Experience and wisdom helps our insight, but focusing on the moment helps us get to the shore, while not looking back at the vastness and the waves behind us can make us run ashore instead of landing in the safety of the port of call ahead.

People change, as their roles in our lives do – and they perhaps hadn’t even shown up yet as we sail into this moment. Knowledge of the past certainly builds a foundation failures and corrections, of perfecting a skill or building a long term relationship. Adding all those trials and errors leads to our successes. But somehow we get older. Hopefully wiser and things become easier. Right?

There’s knowledge that’s unfashionable to a younger, unexperienced mind. Yet how I sometimes wish I retained less of the knowledge I’ve amassed. The German Erfahrung, translates to the English word experience yet the German definition connotes more closely to my point. Erfahrung equates to the coherency of one’s life’s experiences. And that’s the subtly of why what we know now never could help our past selves.

Our egos sometimes overshadow our vision making it difficult to see that we, as the coherence of the past, culminate into the current moment. Can you know more than you know? But how do you infer a decision from the past without the culmination of experience?

I try to follow the old rule “fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me.” But there’s not a one of us who can honestly say we’ve not gone back for more foolishness given instances of grief, love, passion, obsession, and even hope. It’s the science. We rely on evidence based knowledge to go back for more chemotherapy. Yet as far as I know there are no instances of chemotherapy curing cancer, though we’ve experienced successes using western medicine.

It’s not foolishness but hope that drives us to swallow the pills, sit through long infusion sessions of poison, and lasered with radioactive beams of light. How can we hope to recover with the help of the very things that contribute to cancer? We certainly know more today than we knew yesterday, but back for more we go.

All we are is all we are.

We’re all we are, but not all we have been. Change is never a straight m path. It’s not a tightrope with a net beneath to catch our fall when we make mistakes and lose our balance. The paths we walk, crooked and curved, and look more like mazes than labyrinths, since we have an end to the process in mind not just a question we ask as we walk around the crooked and curved lines, none contain us or forced us go make a decision in order to exit.

We skip over cobblestones in the roads. We change course. Our bodies don’t even remain the same as our physical selves aren’t even the same as they were a millisecond ago. And that’s physical age taking us over. Everyone is born terminal. If the doctor slapped a newborn’s bottom to make sure they’re able to scream and thus breath, the first words we should have heard were, “I’m sorry but you have a terminal case of stage four life and you’re going to die from it”. We don’t have a prognosis on your actual mortality but have hope. Medicine has come a long way and life expectancy has reached 77 years in the US and over 80 in European and Asian countries. If your children were born recently they’ll be expected to live over 83 years. When I was born in 1965, the average age of mortality was 74.

It’s unlikely I’ll reach 74. Metastatic cancer shaves years off of the long life my parents expected me to have – both of them thought I’d live into my 90s for some reason. I’m a mortal disappointment.

Roll the dice and be nice.

Take good care of your soul and your spirit. Whether or not it’s true that heaven and God exist, kindness and giving others love won’t make life here and now any worse. Actually, I can only make living here better. What really do you have to lose by navigating this life with a well tuned moral compass to help guide the way?

One thing I have learned is that saying I’m sorry even if I don’t feel that I am at fault and the argument isnt “my fault” I apologize. Yet it has to be a real apology not one that feels false or feels forced. Sometimes you have just say I’m sorry. Because tomorrow morning it’s not who said they were sorry, but that the burden of stress is over. Chances are you won’t even remember what the argument was about. Because let’s face it it wasn’t about what you said, it was about what you didn’t say. But you’ll be happy for for the hug that you’ll feel for the kiss on the cheek for the I love you that you’ll hear. That is an easy thing to do. It’s the ego that gets in the way and if you’re taking care of your spirit and your soul the ego takes a backseat.

It’s the ego that gets in the way of the possibilities of genuine apology. Yet if you’re taking care of your spirit and your soul the ego can take a backseat. We can let the ego grow, like ivy growing over the bricks of a university building. It might look good, yet it covers what’s hiding underneath.

Your soul and your spirit are the most valuable and precious things you’re responsible for. And if indeed there is “heaven” and “God,” and you don’t believe in a specific doctrine or prayer book or religion, still what do you have to lose by doing good? Taking spiritual care of yourself is as important as taking physical and mental care of yourself. It helps you treat other people the way you like to be treated.

I do believe in the old aphorism of treating others how you’d like to be treated. How many of us really practice that? Look at the arguments that you have look at the things that you don’t say that you really want to say and then tell me that you do treat other people the way that you want to be treated. Don’t you want to really know what somebody feels have somebody wants to be treated? Perhaps it’s not what’s being said, but that feeling in your gut that you should listen to instead.

Laying down your sword and holding out your arms instead to hold someone makes life easier. And I do believe that life is meant to be easy. It’s certainly easier taking care of yourself and allowing that self-care to show and shine for other people in the form of a genuine heart. The better you take care you take care of yourself, the better you can take care of other people. Practicing that can give you a happier life right here and right now. Practicing self-care and self-love helps the way I care for others to improve.

Where in lies the difficulty?

We struggle when we want more than simply life itself. We cannot control others. If indeed life weren’t meant to be easy then life itself would make no sense at all. It is simple and it is easy. In summary I want to give you for things that I’ve been thinking about that had me write this post which seems probably very philosophical to you. I haven’t written a post for a few weeks because I’ve been thinking quite a bit in this downtime, in this alone time, and tried to treat this isolation is not so much lonely but is the time to do some self discovery. I hope that you’ll get a little bit from the soul-searching that I’ve been doing.

1. Accepting that you’re born to eventually die and not worrying so much about the end but simply living in this very moment is the best life there can be.

2. If you take care of your spirit and your soul your back is covered. Whether you believe or not in god or a doctrine to understand the meaning of life, regardless, there was once a beginning of all things and there will be an ending of all things but everything comes from “one.” You don’t have to worry if you’re a good person and don’t damage yourself or harm others or the planet or anything beyond.

3. All we are is all we are – but not who we are. Some say we are only the summation of our experiences. But those circumstances of our experiences don’t simply make us exactly what we are and we can change. There are second chances and we can change. Some say people can never change but I say that’s absolutely false. I’ve seen people who have argued about the same things so many times but when they finally got down to what was really bothering them they were able to go forward and move forward and take care of their spirits and souls.

4. I have all I need right here and right now. If I want more than life itself then I’ll always feel life is a struggle. Leave behind the wants and the must-have’s and the lists of things. Buying doesn’t make you more human, but sharing does. Loving does. And being loved in return makes life an easy place to be. Life is terminal but let’s say this:

Life is easy let’s let it be and so it will be.

Cancer, Consciousness, and My Mystical Moment

I do not love or even like having cancer. I do not view cancer as a battle to win or lose. By default a combat defines a winner as well as a loser. Losing would imply that those of us whose bodies succumbed, or will succumb to the beast within, lost a battle, a fight, a war. It implies a lack of something in the self necessary to keep the body alive.

I do not see pink or purple or any color for that matter as representative of a cure or anything that can reach in and extract the monster from inside me. Paradoxically, I love myself far more than I did 3 1/2 years ago. I’ve become more humane, humble. I’ve become more of who I genuinely am: forgiving, more receptive to receiving, more open to listening. I’ve found solace in silence and isolation has become a blessed space in which I can tap into the One conscious being that moves us all.

It is open space in which I find the gift of life and the sacred wisdom that only comes with time and only by coexisting with my own life and death simultaneously. Certainly, I never believed I’d die by my own hand. I don’t even know if I believe life is defined by time in the physical universe. Yet in disease I have found my mind to be a more hospitable place for my consciousness to reside.

For the first time I am aware that I am conscious of my own consciousness.

So with this I am going to share something that came to me one night about a month ago. It was as if some unknowable force moved my hand and in it the pen to write in large print on the page. The handwriting does not even look like my own. I’ve written it out twice and copied it over again without need for editing. And the same words came out. Nothing changes – not a single word. I even tried to write it from what I believed to be my memory. The same words again give or take about 15% differential.

And the message is very, very clear to me. I hope that as you read this you don’t think I’m completely nuts, but if you do that’s perfectly fine with me. I’m giving you what was given to me. It could be that it was in my mind all along and that I was merely writing it on the page that night, and no “unmovable force” that took my hand and scribbled on the page something that’s intelligible enough for me to read. I simply and gratefully want to share this with whom ever decides to read it; I believe it is important to share what comes to us either mystically or “consciously.” But In either case it is important to share our deepest thoughts and that we think or believe is important enough to actually commit to paper.

I’d love to hear your feedback and I’d love to know if it’s intelligible or even remotely understandable to anyone else. This flow of words is perfectly understandable to me. I’m not brave for throwing it out there to you; it’s neither selfish nor is it brave; it’s neither giving nor is it receiving; it just is.

Love The One

Take away what you’re not, and you will know who you are.

Strip the self to its bare essence and find the authentic self.

Deep meditation and pure silence of the mind paradoxically answers the question “who am I?”

And yet, who are we really if we coexist only in the space between interactions? If I am authentically aware and you wear a mask to disguise yourself then how do we communicate at all?

To think?
Or
To do?
To “think” who you are, to believe who you want to be is only an internal state of unconscious unknowing and it is a premeditated untruth. Yet “doing” what you love, what you want, is external an allusion to the true self yet still hiding behind a mask.

Belief cannot make you human. Action or inaction leaves your “mark” on historical humanity, a mark of your perceived beingness.

Born to hunt and gather, Homo sapiens sapiens evolved to think about how to become more productive at these basic tasks to nourish the body and to care for others. Thinking deeply comes with “free time.”

We built machines to do our work – we have time to think.
We built machines to do our thinking – what’s left to do or to think? Nothing but time equals depression; too much time and little to do allows for much broader thinking than required to understand the basic platform of consciousness. Thus in thinking we believe erroneously that we think for ourselves, but we cannot think not by ourselves.

Silence is beautiful if we are secure in the arms of nature. Meditation of beauty is the nature of being human. Yet we remove ourselves from nature and from beauty and this is the definition of complete unconsciousness.

Stripped bare, we are essence, we are natural, we are beautiful. Constructs of Beauty:
No one is able to attain the necessary beauty based on lies. The essence of natural beauty is not unconscious. The absence of natural beauty is unconsciousness.

Our world began whole, naturally, without human consciousness or the awareness that we are even conscious at all. We inhabit so little of the natural world, and we destroyed so much more than we can possibly inhabit even approaching eight billion individual selves.

We gasp and wonder why there’s a spider is in our house? Do nature service in return. Gently lift the spider, take it outside, and say thank you for stopping in. Make friends with your spiders. If spiders disappear then there are no beautiful webs to remind us from where we came.

Eventually we will turn to the soil from which are bodies sprang. Eventually our bodies return back to the soil, to the spiders. Don’t kill even the smallest of creatures, especially those that are helpless in our hands. Help to regain natural habitats rather than destroy our natural world. We are the first species nor will we be the last. We will produce a failure of humans without the humane-ness. And by our own laziness, cruelty, and concepts of beauty, we will die under the weight of our own inventions.

Love all.
Fear none.
Walk until you find the horizon and jump!
You will land in the windless, airless, breathless, blackness of space.
You can ful-fill it with your own conscious creations.

In this space you are God.
God is all and God is nothing.
God is the circle of infinite nothing.
Divide God and the One itself and the One destroys all.
Adding the One to God and everything is possible all is sacred.
This One is the same number repeated infinitely.
Subtract God from One and you’re back to zero and nothingness.
Do not divide the conscious self with nothing.

Become infinite by releasing The Infinite One from who you believe you are.
Do not become the belief that you are anything.
Yet you are everything.
Everything is God.
You are The One and God is you.

God is zero.
God is infinite.
You cannot divide love by anything.
The One can join love. The One can be multiplied by love.
The One can add to love.

Hell is to divide love by nothing. This is the only inescapable law the universe will give us.
This is the only knowable secret and that is this:
Heaven is Love added to all infinite Love.
Infinite Love is the One.
Stripped of what we are not, becoming who we truly are brings Love to consciousness.
In this state:
God is knowable.
Therefore, We are all God.
We are not alone in who we are and we are not alone and who we are not.
We will be alone until fear stops. Our violence comes from fear of what is unknowable.

Our unseen universal “neighbors” will remain hidden in the shadows, silently protecting those who do no harm. Those who do arm are trapped by their own “net“. By being who you are not you lie to the universe. If you lie to the universe, you will live looking back at what’s past. The past equals fear.
Fear opposes love.
Fear hides love and hides The One.
God is not Fear.

Wanting more than we need lays the foundation for violence and stealing of resources. By killing nature we look back at the past and do not see that we created a trap into which we trip and fall. We fall into the garden where the apples are rotten not to be eaten.

Look in the mirror. There, vanity will not allow you to see the self. Instead you will see an empty vessel in reverse. That reverse image is the opposite of you, the opposite of God. That is the devil, the evil, the not I, the end, and not the infinite. Be here now and you are with us you are with God and you are divine.

Mystical realizations can happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere. Please look at your partner, your child, parents, a friend, your parents, your foes. Forgive. Unforgiving is a foolish act of jealous regret. Unforgiving pulls you into the past, stealing from the future and from everyone’s future. You will fall into nothingness when you seek the Horizon’s edge.

Bring Love to your perceived enemies. Bring Love to your spiders. Bring Love to the dead. Bring Love to your life. Love is the center of the infinite, and the center of everything is love.
Our consciousness is everything.
Our consciousness is God.
We are aware of our consciousness and we can only be the consciousness we perceive. To Percieve conscious love is to perceive God.
God is love.
The One is love.
Therefore we are love.
Love is God.
Everything is love.
God is everywhere.
Consciousness is infinite.
Nothingness is infinite. We are everything.
We are nothing.
God is us.
Love is God.
And in the end we are love.
We are all One and Love is everything we need.

Be with Love
And you will be with God.