People write entire books on courage so this chapter could go on for a while. But, I will restrain myself. Because less is more. More or less.

So, to locate your own personal supply of courage you will need to look inside yourself. You can't buy real courage. Nor can you get it from anyone else. Others can only inspire you to find your own.

Yelling like Tarzan will help. I find muttering is good too. "Be brave, you can do it, it's okay, breath, slow but sure"....all said slightly under your breath provides encouragement that may move you forward. Yes, you may appear odd. Breast Health Ambassadors are unique, powerful, amazing people who are a bit odd compared to the masses. It's all part of the new territory you are exploring. You are on an important quest to improve your well being.

Here's a challenge. Intentionally think something positive about your breasts every day this week. Notice how that feels.

I own a company called Art Jam. Although the associated website has seen little action in the last few year's, thanks mostly to loosing my lease on the physical building where I ran the various programs, the concept of Art Jam is very much alive and well.

Art Jam is a state of mind that helps open up options and find new and satisfying ways to live life. In short, Art Jam stimulates living creatively, even if you don't feel like you have a shred of imagination. You do. In fact, everyone does.

When it comes to your health, breast or otherwise, a creative approach works wonders. Example. Did you know that you can self appoint yourself a Breast Health Ambassador? Did your posture just improve by my suggestion? Any images of velvet capes and satin shoes dance through your head? At the very least I suspect you cracked a smile.

Smiling is good for your health. So there you go.

The very first Art Jam Guideline that you need to adopt in order for you to take the stage as a world class Ambassador is very straight ahead.

Be brave.

For several year's, I ran play writing and acting workshops for grade 4-6 students. Every time I met a new class I would start my program by making a single request. "Today, I will ask you to be brave." Then, I would invite the class to stand up and find enough room to be able to extend their arms straight out at their sides, parallel to the floor. Then on the count of three I would demonstrate a chest pounding Tarzan roar at full volume. Mouths would gape open. Me, being the age of their mothers, had shocked the wee lads and lasses by my brazen, unorthodox behaviour. When I would insist that they follow suit, the next roar was inevitably lame. But with subsequent tries, their courage would increase and their roar would expand. By the end of the days program, anyone of the kids could have commanded an entire jungle on their very own.

So. Be brave. Try a few hearty Tarzan roars to start your day.

Please note. Being brave does not mean being fearless. Rather I suggest that you stay calm. Breath deeply if you feel afraid. Pause. Reality check your risks. Many of our health fears are induced in us by media messages and our own ignorance. Self educate yourself. Start by becoming intimately familiar with your own breasts. Look at them from all angles. Touch them. Get to know how they feel at different times of the month. See them as part of your body. Learn to like them. Or better still, learn to love your breasts in all their glory.

SR

For the past two year's, I have been a member of the Guelph Mercury's Community Editorial Board, my cities daily paper. The following is an editorial that appeared in October 2004.

The woman beside me did bear a striking resemblance to celebrity Gloria Estefan, so I understood why she won the look-a-like contest. We arrived on the Sage Bistro balcony at the same time, needing fresh air. A balmy breeze, laced with sweet floral scents, carried the sound of waves washing up on Wreck Beach below.

‘Gloria’ and I watch through the massive glass doors as dozens of women pack the dance floor, prancing and gyrating to “I Will Survive,” arms waving madly in the air. I could have been at the Bullring or any downtown Guelph bar on a Saturday. Instead, I am in Vancouver at a breast cancer networking event called "The Young and the Breastless."

I can’t say I’ve ever danced at a breast cancer conference before. Nor have I done yoga, art workshops or sing-a-longs. But this event is intentionally different. Created for young women, by young women, there is a freshness and vitality that honestly reflects the people whom it is designed to serve.

The multiple contests add another wacky edge and leave us all rolling in the aisles. One woman demonstrates how to improve posture by whipping out her prosthesis and placing it firmly on her head, then circling the room. Another sings the complete theme song to Green Acres with full impersonation and Broadway drama. People choke on their wine.

I too am a contest winner thanks to a single butterscotch candy, blessed by the Dalai Lama and bequeathed to me by my yoga instructor, Jackie. The M.C. excitedly declares me the recipient of the “Auspicious Charm in Purse Award” after I exploded into the air like a rocket, wagging my precious candy like a flag. I am handed a martini-making kit, complete with a mickey of vodka. Should he find out, I trust that the Dalai Lama will appreciate the irony of the prize and not rescind my blessing.

Cancer conferences can be very raw events filled with heady, scientific content and an undercurrent of doom. So it is remarkable to me that we are laughing. These hundred women, ranging in age from late teens to mid forties, are facing their own mortality with a modern-day pioneering attitude. Never before has there been a Canadian event dedicated to young women living with breast cancer.

And just like life, it’s not all fun and games. The young moms, students, newly married, freshly separated, and women on the cusp of promising careers are seeking a connection and understanding so that they can continue living with some sense of joy and future. They also seek visibility in a society that prefers denial. Acknowledging the growing incidence of breast cancer in young women is to admit that something is wrong with the world and that a groundswell of action is required.

Breast cancer has become the ‘household word’ of disease thanks to all the awareness-raising campaigns of the last dozen years. The average person recognizes breast cancer by name and nature. But the diverse range of women with breast cancer cannot be painted with one pink brush.

Career trajectory, education, motherhood and relationships vary dramatically at different life stages. Throwing breast cancer into the mix at any point in time affects each of these life phases in profound and complex ways. Cultural and religious differences further complicate the ordeal. Sexual orientation adds yet another layer of intricacy to the experience.

Unlike other conferences where expert panelists discussed current medical trends while women sit, waiting to hear some good news, the Y and B organizers turn much of the stage over to the delegates. The women became the authorities of their own unique cancer process and share their stories directly with each other.

The difference is profound and moving. I listen closely to the 29-year-old, with three children under age nine, exhausted from treatment, frustrated by her chemo-altered memory, with a supportive but equally burned-out husband. She quietly wonders what and how much to tell her kids. Then the single woman in her early thirties who wants to date but feels terrified by the thought of revealing her disease and her missing breast.

Epiphanies pop. Laughter ripples. Profanity pierces. Tears flow. Conversations focus on sex and sexuality. It is crystal clear to me that we are all part of a groundbreaking, think and feel tank that will swell far beyond these walls and help thousands of people through a very challenging life experience. Collectively, these women have found new support and they are going to nurture that support into something much bigger than themselves.

My balcony companion merrily chats away, telling me the details of her Gloria Estefan look-a-like prize. Suddenly her face lights up. “Were you the woman who had her panties blessed by the Dalai Lama?” she inquires. “Panties?? You mean candy,” I respond with a laugh. It seemed that ‘Gloria’s’ half of the room had misunderstood the M.C.’s excited description of my lucky butterscotch candy. Dozens of women left believing that I was carrying Dalai Lama-blessed panties in my purse!

“Celebration” pulses from the DJ’s sound system and ‘Gloria’ and I join the throbbing mass of female energy on the dance floor. I am instantly smiling, surrounded by youthful, giddy energy.

If you are a young woman living with breast cancer, please contact The Young and the Breastless.

The Environmental Working Group or EWG are consumer watchdog types. Recently, they released a report called SKIN DEEP; a safety review of the ingredients found in thousands of cosmetic products available in stores. I was curious to see what they would have to say about my brand of shampoo; a product that I buy because it claims to be 'natural' and 'environmentally friendly'. So I went to their site.

The first thing I read both surprised and alarmed me. To quote, the " FDA cannot require companies to do safety testing of their cosmetic products before marketing. — FDA Office of Cosmetics and Colors (FDA 1995)"

The FDA is the U.S. governments safety and regulation board for food and consumer products. I had believed that all products available for purchase from the U.S. had to meet safety regulations put forth by the FDA. Guess not.

The site went on to explain that "most consumers would be surprised to learn that the government does not require health studies or pre-market testing for cosmetics and other personal care products before they are sold. According to the government agency that regulates cosmetics, the FDA's Office of Cosmetics and Colors, "...a cosmetic manufacturer may use almost any raw material as a cosmetic ingredient and market the product without an approval from FDA" (FDA 1999)." EWG were certainly right about one thing. I was a surprised consumer.

EWG further states: "The toxicity of product ingredients is scrutinized almost exclusively by a self-policing industry safety committee, the Cosmetic Ingredient Review (CIR) panel. Because testing is voluntary and controlled by the manufacturers, many ingredients in cosmetics products are not safety tested at all. Environmental Working Group's analysis of industry and government sources shows that:

* Eighty-nine (89) percent of 10,500 ingredients used in personal care products have not been evaluated for safety by the CIR, the FDA, nor any other publicly accountable institution (FDA 2000, CIR 2003)."

I found this to be sobering news. But not as sobering as what I learned about my mainstream 'natural' shampoo.

The results read as follows: " Harmful Impurities: 1 ingredient - may contain harmful impurities linked to cancer or other health problems. (cocamidopropyl betaine)

Unstudied Chemicals: 12 ingredients - are unstudied or have insufficient data." The 12 ingredients were listed in detail.

Other Health Concerns: 1 ingredient pose(s) other potential health concerns. (methylparaben)

If you find this information surprising, visit the site for yourself. Check out your shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, creams and hair dye. Find out what you are actually putting on your skin in the name of beauty and cleanliness.

Powerful information.

SR

Breast health to you and yours for the coming days, weeks and months. May you find the courage to take your own breast health into your own hands.

Here's an idea that may just feed (at least) two birds with one seed.

One of the more popular resolutions made at this time of year is to get fit. Folks join gyms, buy running shoes and feverishly try to undo a year of inertia. And, just as often, by the beginning of February, all good intentions have fallen by the wayside. When this has been my story, which it has time and again, the main reason is my lack of interest in the activity that I've chosen to pursue. Not rocket science I know....I've come to learn it's always easier to do what you love.

So here's the thing. Why not try something new that might just spark a light deep in your soul, improve your health and your sex life? Or at least, your sense of your sensualness.

Before I elaborate, I must stress that increasing your fitness level is the one proven way of improving your breast health and reducing your risk of breast cancer . So there is much to be gained and nothing to loose.

Ready? Take up bellydancing! Really. I've done a couple of ten week sessions now and even though I feel like a broom moving around the room, I laugh, sweat and eventually melt some of the rigidness in my body. Plus the music is fabulous and the costumes are stunning.

A little creative seed to consider planting in your New Year's garden.

SR

Three times, I have vacationed in South East Asia during the holiday season. Twice in Thailand. Once is south east India. This year, as I sat on my comfortable couch, sipping brandy and eggnog, watching the gentle flames in my fireplace and listening to CBC Radio , my ears perked up and my body grew stiff. A tidal wave of incomprehensible proportions had ravaged the very coastal villages and beaches that I was familiar with.

The very early radio reports included live interviews with some of the victims. Once in particular stuck out and has been haunting me ever since.

A woman recounted how she, her husband and 16 year old Downs Syndrome son were sitting at a beach front cafe in Thailand enjoying breakfast - I imagined fresh fruit, yogurt, instant coffee and fresh squeezed juice set on a table firmly planted in the sand. The air would have been fragrant, warm and soft to the skin. The sound of surf, rustling palm branches, putt putt of motor bikes, a dog, rooster and tropical bird song mixed with western music likely greeted the ears.

The woman, hysterically recounted how suddenly, without warning, a giant wave came crashing down on them, sweeping her son away. Away. Gone. Dead. Incomprehensible pain. Impossible agony. A mother's son ripped from her bosom. Raw, human tragedy. I felt the shock of grief.

Further reports suggest that tens of thousand children have died in the Indian Ocean coastal communities affected by the Tsunamis. Children pulled from their mothers arms. Children swept away from the safety of their mother's breasts.

Imagine the horror.