The Wind That Hits Your Face…

Every action creates a reaction. Every wind creates movement. Every small stone thrown into the lake becomes a celebration.

There are moments when a simple act of change triggers so many things at once that we don’t even have time to think whether they are good or not so good. But in some way, they are: movement.

A simple “no” opens so many blocked paths that I often wonder why I didn’t do it sooner. And if it’s always this simple, what causes so many mental blocks? What creates the barriers that keep the wheel from turning, new things from happening, and old concepts from fading away? The solutions may be within everyone’s reach, but perhaps we need to go through more winding— and consequently more painful — paths. Maybe that’s how we learn to truly value the final achievement.

There is no real joy in what is simply handed to us without effort, persistence, or sweat… at least, that’s how I see it. Feeling the sweet pleasure of being free and making our own choices is far more meaningful when we’ve known the opposite. So, do we need to suffer to understand pleasure? I don’t know. I only know that when we find the way out at the end of the tunnel, everything becomes clearer and more obvious — and that feeling of freedom we experience is as intense as the wind hitting our face, whether on a motorcycle, a bicycle, or even a simple bus.

Original text from my former blog (in Portuguese) Frenéticas SA published in 2007.

Art Can Save the World. Period.

When things go nuts.

When you are going through hell.

When you think it’s too much to handle.

When you can’t believe what you’ve heard, watched, or read, something so retrograde.

When you’re in shock at what humans can do to one another.

When you see someone deeply immersed in brainwashing.

When you reach a point where it feels like there’s no way things will get better.

Well, my friends, I can say there is a solution for all that feeling of powerlessness: ART.

Art can literally save the world.

Art raises questions, promotes awareness, and creates emotional impact on levels we sometimes can’t reach otherwise.

Art, no matter the medium.

Art can save the world.

So make more art.

Even when the world screams the opposite.

I’ll Fit It Into My Life—Not the Other Way Around

When I first heard from my oncologist that the new treatment I’m undergoing for this recurrence didn’t have a set end date—even after a negative diagnosis—I told myself that even if it took a couple of years, I’d eventually be done with it.

But during my last infusion this week (I get them every three weeks), I asked him again because I’m planning a trip to Brazil and wanted to stay longer than three weeks. To my disappointment, he told me he still can’t predict an end date. There just isn’t enough data yet, and every case is different. The only thing he knows for sure is: if I stop, it could come back.

Not fun.

He told me that ultimately, I’ll have to be the one to decide if skipping an infusion for something important—like staying longer in Brazil—is worth it for me.

Hearing that hit me with a mix of emotions. It took me two days to even write about it. I never imagined I’d go through breast cancer once, let alone twice. No genetic markers, no family history, no unhealthy habits. And still—here I am. Again.

And now, knowing I’ll need to rely on this medication for an unpredictable amount of time is heavy.

You might think, “What’s the big deal? Some breast cancer survivors take daily pills for 5 or 10 years.” But for me, it’s the fact that I need to go to an oncology facility every three weeks. That I have to take pre-meds that mess with my mind—especially the steroids. That I lose an entire day because they make me tired. That I depend on someone to drive me. That I can’t just plan a trip to visit my family and friends for more than three weeks without considering treatment.

My whole life has to be planned around infusion days.

Thankfully, I had my port removed, because the thought of having it as a “forever friend” for who knows how long was too much. That thing bothered me so much.

Right now, the only thing I can do is reframe this. Maybe it’ll take some time—or maybe not—but I need to find a way to fit this treatment into my life, not the other way around. I don’t want to feel like a slave to it.

This whole cancer journey—both times—has brought so much to reflect on. And especially, to adapt to.

It’s a lot to process. But the only way I know how to move forward is to reframe each little challenge… and be grateful. Yes—grateful for the experiences, the possibilities, the strength we find within ourselves, and the support we’re lucky to receive. Give me a few days. I’m reframing it.