In a conversation this morning, my dear soul sister, Pavi, pointed out to me a deep transition that is happening on my healing journey. Sensing how I seem to be less aversive to allopathic treatment than I was a year ago, she shared a beautiful quote about the difference between “taking a stance” and holding sacred ground.

Taking a stance involves an other with whom we are in opposition or conflict, while holding sacred ground is more inclusive. Everyone can hold their sacred ground without stepping on anyone else’s toes.



This really resonated with me because I have been sensing a sea change in how I show up in the world. For three quarters of my life, I have been like the character in the film Dances with Wolves whose Lakota name translates to “Stands with Fists." As many of you can attest (Mom), ever since I was young, I stood with fists when confronted with something with which I was not in agreement. Not only would I physically stand rigidly with my hands clenched into fists, but I would also argue until my face turned blue anything that didn’t fit into my worldview.

I could give an infinite number of examples from all parts of my life. For example, when I was addicted to surfing, I used to try to surf waves that were way beyond my ability level. I remember friends of mine who were some of the best surfers in the world telling me not to paddle out, but I couldn’t hear them. I would stroke into a huge close out, hop to my feet and stand obstinately with my teeth and fists clenched, then get smashed by the huge wall of water.



A wise older surfer once told me, “Kozo, you surf like there is no tomorrow.”

“That’s right, old man, go big or go home,” I thought silently.

“Well, the truth is there is a tomorrow, and if you keep surfing like you do, you won’t live to see it,” he warned me.

Later when I committed myself to a meditation practice, I sat so much that I started bleeding. I figured it was just hemorrhoids, so I stubbornly continued to sit for two hours every day. The bleeding increased, so after 8 months, I asked a meditation teacher, B. Alan Wallace, about it.

“Maybe you should try savasana (laying down mediation) or walking mediation,” he offered.

“No, I want to sit like the Buddha,” I argued.

“That is your problem—you are too rigid,” he replied.

Of course, this bleeding was the beginning of my journey with rectal cancer which has taught me a new way to face the world. Rather than insist that my way is the only way, I often honestly say, “I don’t know.”

Instead of standing stubbornly in opposition to anyone or anything that is irritating me, I have been pulling these aversions closer to me and giving them a hug. Rather than standing with fists, I have been dancing with wolves or blending with my “enemies.”



A year ago, I was so aversive to allopathic medicine that I wouldn’t even consider any treatments they offered. A few weeks ago, a doctor friend, Sri, sent me an article about how 75% of stage II colorectal cancer cases could be cured by surgery alone, When I told my cousin that this was something that the doctors at Palo Alto Medical Foundation should have told me a year ago, he replied, “Why? You wouldn’t have done the surgery anyway.”

My cousin was right In my first meeting with my surgeon last year, I felt like he was a used car salesman with dollar signs in his eyes, trying to get me to buy into his surgical scam. In the meeting with the same doctor a few days ago, I felt genuine love and brotherhood with this allopathic professional. We laughed and smiled at each other. I was dancing with someone I had previously deemed a wolf.

I’m not exactly sure where the next steps in this healing journey will take me, but I do know that if guidance or necessity leads me to the operating table, i will open my heart and soul to this treatment. As a dear friend, Radha, recently reminded me, “Allopathic medicine is also the Divine.”