Yesterday my friend Denise and I walked the course for Seattle’s  first annual Free to Breathe 5K Run/Walk (if you live in the PNW, please register! We’d love to see you there…). We’re holding in in Seward Park, which is a large loop trail through old-growth forest on Lake Washington. It’s spectacular, which I hope will make up for any less than perfect weather. Seattle in November can be downright soggy. However, yesterday was perfect — a little sunny, a little cloudy, a crisp chill in the air, and spectacular fall colors starting to emerge from the shoreline. A good day to be alive, and walking, and talking with my friend.

I am reflecting on how happy I have been lately, and how amazingly aware of my good fortune in how well I have responded to my treatment. But it almost seems that the happier I am, the closer I also am to sadness. Does this make sense? I will give an example because I don’t think I can really explain otherwise.

This weekend we were at a beautiful wedding in Sonoma, CA. The bride and groom are just lovely people, and you could just feel that their families were so excited and proud to be with them on their special day. When it came time for the father /daughter dance, and I watched them together, I have to say that I turned around and cried into Matt’s chest.

Just a little (didn’t want to cause a scene)…but in the past few months I have felt so good, and have been so content, that I had forgotten, a little, that I will have to be the most fortunate person in the world to make it to see Lucie and Matt dancing at her wedding (unless she’s a teen bride — just kidding).

So that is what I mean by the Yin and Yang of Cancer. I think I feel happiness much more keenly because everything becomes much more poignant and weighted with emotion. Happy and sad.