When I was diagnosed with cervical cancer in 1993, I had the loving support of many friends, family and colleagues. I was exhausted after surgery and during the lengthy treatments that followed. It is documented that being in a support group can improve the quality of life and potential survival from this disease. (D. Spiegel, et. al., The Lancet, Vol. 2, 1989, pp. 888-891) But driving 50 minutes, one way, to a cancer support group at the hospital was not an option for me.

However, an idea that kept nudging at me was that I wanted to give something back to my community for all the help I had received and in gratitude for my life. At the time, I thought the form that this service would take would be through running cancer support groups.

Since then, I unsuccessfully offered two different groups for people who have had cancer. Last year I heard of a few other therapists who had tried to run this type of group with no results. Most of these sessions were offered with very low sliding-scale fees. One community organization even offered two different programs free of charge. Yet, due to lack of enrollment, not one of these cancer support groups ran. Clearly, money was not the issue. What was going on? Groups had run in the past. Why weren't people joining? Was there another route to serving this growing population of people diagnosed with cancer?

I didn't know. But as an artist and therapist, I have long appreciated making drawings as a way to access my own process and the feelings waiting to be expressed. I considered this work to be different from my mandala art "for the public." These quick sketches were kept private, and only shared with my therapist. So, it was natural that, in a time of need, I turned again to a resource which had helped me before. Working with my drawings worked for me. I felt, as Ferrucci says, that "we should greet our drawing as if it were a person coming from a distant land whose customs are very different from those of our own country. We seek to resonate with it and intuitively capture the message it gives us about ourselves." (Piero Ferrucci, What We May Be, Turnstone, 1983, p. 37)

Gradually, I recovered from the cancer and was able to return to work as a staff member at The Synthesis Center in Amherst, MA. As my energy increased, I participated in a ten-week support group for cancer survivors offered by Dr. Dorothy Firman. During this time, each of the five participants revealed a strong interest in creative projects. Whether we called ourselves artists or not, the photographs and paintings were there, and were an important part of our healing process.

The obvious next step was to display this beautiful work and perhaps inspire others who had cancer to find a way to nurture their own spirit. A date was set for December 8, advertising went out and plans were made for a one-day exhibit of work created by people who had cancer. The show was entitled, "Through the Eyes of Cancer." From limited early advertising, I received calls from four more women who had cancer and wanted to participate. A popular writer for a local newspaper called and wanted to do a story. When I approached our public radio station, they enthusiastically agreed to interview several of the artists for a segment of their program. The Synthesis Center donated the space and funds to help support advertising and printing costs. This kind of serendipity wasn't there when I was offering support groups.

Right before our event, New England was belted with a ravaging snow storm for three days. Trees were down, power outages were everywhere, and much damage had occurred. Yet the morning of December 8th, the sun was out, and Amherst had power. We decided to "go on with the show" and leave it up the following week for those who couldn't get out due to the weather. Over 60 people from the community attended that day. One elderly guest, who had recently been diagnosed with cancer, maneuvered her "walker" over four blocks in the ice and snow to get there. She said she wouldn't have missed it for anything. Another visitor, whose mother died of cancer, returned later in the week to experience the work privately. A student who saw our sign on the street decided to take a break from her studies to become a therapist and see our show. A young woman was moved to tears when she read an artist's statement: "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade" hanging by a crocheted wall hanging. A total of $300 in donations was contributed to The Subsidy Fund for cancer survivors seeking therapy at the Synthesis Center. Several offers were made to take the show to other locations. Everyone expressed gratitude, and many were clearly touched by what they saw.

The exhibit included the work of ten women who had cancer and used art to tap into their creative spirit and give meaning to their lives. One woman's powerful work (Joan Schneider 1954-1995) was shared posthumously. As her friend, Blake Walton, wrote for the show program: "She was a chiropractor, an avid outdoors woman, a prankster, a courageous and deeply spiritual person. She used creative expression on her healing journey towards wholeness. These drawings are inspiring glances of her life path with cancer." Her contribution reminded us of what true healing is.

Barbara Clearwater Liberty, had been cancer-free for 29 years and showed us that a cancer diagnosis doesn't always equal death. She thanked me for promoting the exhibit as she hadn't shown her work in years and this was the motivation she needed to "get back out there." Linda Waynelovich couldn't attend the show because a tree was blocking her driveway. We all admired her work and were certain that she was a "professional." How startled we were to discover that she had never shown her work publicly before! Another of our original group members assured us absolutely that she was no artist and yet sold more of her work than any other participant.

"What was going on?" I wondered. I asked the four new people if they had been in a support group or had any interest in one. Every single one of them answered that they didn't want to sit around and talk about their wounds. Creativity was what gave their lives meaning, they said. Author Julia Cameron, in The Vein of Gold tape series, says, "The only way to heal a creative wound is through creativity." Perhaps it is true of all wounds that it is through creativity that the human spirit heals and is able to come through.