Walking a Healing Well

This past weekend I participated for the first time in relay for life.  I had reservations, it seemed like a lot of work, I was concerned with how helpful Relay would be for me, for my family, for my grove and for the community as a whole.

Relay was in full swing when I arrived to be greeted by the sound of loudspeakers blaring the old tune Lollipop Lollipop, Oh Lolli Lolli.  It didn’t bode well.  There was a carnival atmosphere with each team selling items and offering games for children.  There was an ice cream truck parked and doing good business and a couple of bouncy houses for the kids.  I found my team’s tent and we were doing good business in selling nail painting and hair chalking along with mason jars filled with a fruity punch.  Refills were only $2, a real steal in an atmosphere where no one felt guilty about charging as much as they’d like.  All the profit went to The American Cancer Society. Capitalism for a Cause.

After settling in I wanted to experience the real reason we were all there:  to have someone from our team walking the track for 24 hours.  I walked out onto the track and found myself among many women and a few men.  I experienced the opening ceremony and we all cheered for the cancer survivors and their caregivers when they walked their ceremonial lap.

I could have walked that lap.  I was a caregiver in high school.  I remember driving my mom home after chemo and coming home for lunch to cook for her. I didn’t though.  It felt strange and uncomfortable.

So the day wore on into night and slowly the walkers became sparse and intent on their movement.  I felt strangely compelled to walk.  Counting up miles became a goal of it’s own.  It was caught up in the darkness and the moon hung full over us as we circled, surrounded by luminaries dedicated to those who had survived and those who had not.   I slept for a few hours while other team members walked, and woke up at 4:30 a.m. to resume my walking. I had volunteered to take the dawn shift since I had missed the dawn on midsummer morning.  It felt like the right thing to do.

The walkers now had a determination on their faces.  Some shuffled along, some strode with forced intensity.   I hit my stride and as I walked I could feel the energy of all the feet that had walked that day.  There was a sensation of swirling energy and I felt the eyes of the ancestors upon me as I walked past the flickering candles dedicated to fathers and mothers, to friends, to children who had passed into worlds other than this one.

This was the moment that changed my mind about Relay for Life.  I saw as I walked that we were working a kind of magic.  Individuals gathered from everyday walks of life: churchgoers, those affected by the disease, ordinary people with no magical training.  We were creating a well of healing there on the track field.  All of us were surrounded by the ring of our beloved dead, holding vigil for them and for those who struggled.

I watched the swirling clouds as they came into view, the sun rose red and ghostlike in the morning as I walked.

I walked 17 miles in total, and I would have walked more, but duty to my children and my team took precedence.  I walked a healing spell that day and night along with total strangers I made magic.