One of my favorite sayings is a Chinese proverb that I have previously quoted here, but it is worth mentioning again. “It is easy to get a thousand prescriptions, but hard to get one single remedy.”

Wandering through life with my partner, multiple myeloma, has been a call for just the right gifts to help me along. Finding what we need to thrive is a mysterious task – trusting that these right gifts will come our way may be the key to receiving them.

A Buddhist monk wears a robe and carries a bowl, symbols of two life-sustaining necessities. Externally, we need clothing and shelter. Internally, we rely upon food and water. The monk holds out his begging bowl and gratefully accepts all that is offered, trusting that he will receive a sufficient amount to survive.

I have recently been inspired by the bowl metaphor after reading the book “Everyday Sacred” by Sue Bender.

Each one of us begins as an empty bowl to be filled by our living days. Too much or too little tends to cause problems. We live in an age of excess, abundance, and plenty. Still, we fear not having what we need, as we often have too much of the wrong things.

In her book, Bender suggests an exercise that I decided to try. I wrapped an old ceramic bowl in a towel and hit it against the floor to intentionally break it. The task was to reassemble the pieces with cement. I managed to cobble several large pieces back together, but there remains a hole in the bottom where the shards were too fragmented to attach. This broken bowl exercise closely resembles my personal process of recovery and learning to appreciate becoming whole again. The hole in the bottom may be a way to quickly eliminate all that is unnecessary – to be left with just enough.

The “cracked cup” mentioned in the title of my columns also refers to a piece of pottery of mine that represents my own fragile yet hardy condition – imperfect, worn, yet fully functional.

Prior to my multiple myeloma diagnosis, I was unaware of my plasma cells converting to myeloma cells. Excess proteins made by the myeloma cells began to disturb the delicate balance within. The myeloma cells were quietly crowding out the healthy plasma cells that make precious antibodies deep inside my bone marrow.

I had a good robe – a solid supply of clothing and sturdy shelter. I had a bowl full of food and water, but the bowl of a western woman requires a more varied blend of ingredients. Mine may have had had too many chemicals, too much work, and too much stress – but not enough companionship.

After diagnosis, my remedy was trust. I held out my empty bowl for medicine, care, and comfort. I trusted that just the right dosages of chemotherapy would be administered. I trusted that the proper needle size would be used for infusions and blood draws. I trusted that I would somehow receive suitable nourishment. I also trusted that family and friends would find their own ways to help, support, and offer inspirational news.

The experience of living with multiple myeloma has taught me to be alert to the small rumblings within.

After my autologous stem cell transplant, my doctor assured me that I would gradually feel better each day, but it would take an entire year to truly recover. At the time, 365 days felt like an eternity. That was almost nine years ago.

Filling my bowl after that was trial and error.

I initially took the advice of another woman recovering from a serious illness who said, “I baby myself.”

My nourishment in recent years has included books, movies, meditation, relocation to a life in a different home in a different city, and new work. I have noticed a natural drift away from those who do not brighten me and an attraction to new friends. I have had the opportunity to live in the same city as my aging mother and to be closer to family.

During this winter season of colds and flu, I hope to receive just the right immune function to fight off bugs and viruses. I trust that I will secure sure footing on icy paths to avoid bone-breaking falls. I am cheered on to know that my empty bowl continues to be filled with friendship and laughter. This remedy of finding just enough balances the loss, fear, and struggle of ordinary life – with or without multiple myeloma.

Finding balance is receiving what is offered, as well as giving away whenever possible – having “just enough.” I help fill the bowls of others around me as I receive their offerings. When asked to help with something, I try to comply. Giving away small amounts of money to those who ask for help with various causes or projects is my way to return the generosity that has been given to me.

My process of accepting what is offered into my empty bowl is not simply waiting to be given to. It is more of matter of keen listening and watching to recognize important information or opportunities in order to best position myself to receive these gifts. I am a western woman after all – not a Buddhist monk.