A Year-End Letter From My Heart to Yours

Greetings, fellow lovers of life!

It has been a while since I've checked in, and we've made it to the day of my next big CT scan (which I'm affectionately referring to as my No Evidence of Disease scan), taking place Thursday morning, December 30th.

I'll follow up as soon as I can to celebrate (insh'Allah) the results of that scan, but in the mean time, I want to share with you a little (actually, big) end-of-year letter I've put together detailing the highs and lows of this last challenging and beautiful lap around the sun.

Many of you will also be receiving a hard copy of this letter in the mail any day along with a personal note. If you'd like to be included in future mailings and you're not sure whether I have your address, feel free to drop me a line with your postal info. In any case, you can read on for my year-end letter below or view it as a PDF here. Enjoy!

As a new year rapidly approaches (and with it, a new healthcare deductible), I'll also give a quick plug here for my ongoing healing fundraiser. Since wrapping up formal treatment, I've continued to pay out-of-pocket for a range of complementary therapies that have been hugely supportive in my ongoing recovery. In the coming months, I am looking forward to returning to work — but for now I remain on medical leave, and your support makes a big difference in helping me to afford the care I need and keep the bills paid. A huge and heartfelt thanks to all the Cancer Bandits out there who have combined for more than 230 donations since the campaign began this summer. I don't know what I'd do without you, and I'm humbled by your care.

And now, without further ado, I give you my annual letter.

Wishing you a beautiful 2022!

Aho Mitakuye Oyasin.

Dear Family and Friends,

As you’re likely aware, this has been a major year for me and Satya Rose. I am more grateful than ever to be here, alive on this beautiful planet and sharing this sacred journey of consciousness with you. What follows is a heavily abridged recap of this latest and most transformational trip around the sun. I hope it finds you in excellent health and spirits!

Around this time last year, I was working on an annual letter that I had intended to send you along with a holiday card. We were less than a year deep into the pandemic, and Satya and I were celebrating the completion of a difficult school year conducted mostly from the living room of our new home, a sweet rental in Cotati, CA, where we had moved in the early weeks of Covid. In 2020, she had finished the first grade and I had been promoted to Dean of Faculty at the small high school where I teach — and though that year was difficult, we were in good spirits and aware that we had much to celebrate. My letter-sending last winter was interrupted, however, by a major health crisis that I am only now, a year later, truly beginning to recover from and comprehend. As we bade farewell to the dumpster fire that was 2020, I had little idea what an intense, traumatic, and life-changing journey 2021 would have in store for me.

By far my biggest personal headline of this year has been my tango with cancer. Last January, having finally approached my doctor about a concerning pea-sized nodule I had found on my body, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. Within a few days, I was under anesthesia at Marin General Hospital, undergoing a successful mass-removal surgery. After a short period of recovery at home (and the cutting off of my long hair, representing a symbolic renewal), I was back to work — and back, in many ways, to the stress that had become a hallmark of my pandemic existence.

Satya was wrapping up second grade, and I was rounding out my third year at Quest Forward Academy — and by April, both of our schools were in the midst of a challenging transition from online to in-person instruction. We were wearing masks most of the day. I was also growing our staff for the next school year and helping to plan our seniors’ graduation. Satya and I spent many vernal afternoons skateboarding around on local trails, climbing trees, and practicing parkour in the sun. Before long, it was as if my brush with cancer had never happened. And perhaps that was the problem. The blurry weeks around my diagnosis and surgery last winter had brought some glimpses of some changes I felt the need to make in my life — callings to write more and practice better self-care, for example — and while I did my best to heed those messages, I could also feel myself being swallowed again by the demands of working-class-single-dad life. Somewhere in those months, I also experienced the end of a romantic relationship that had begun the previous spring with an amazing person. Through this entire year that has been my cancer journey, I’ve been going through a sort of identity meltdown, like a caterpillar liquefying in the chrysalis before emerging winged and beautiful. Of course it’s complicated — but at core, something in me wasn’t able to hold that external bond and still maintain fidelity to my own healing path, so I did what I had to do to stay in integrity: I pulled back and walked on alone.

In the balmy beginning of May, as my students’ graduation approached, I began experiencing intense (and eventually excruciating) back pain, which my doctors suggested was likely musculoskeletal and related to abdominal muscles that had been cut through during my surgery. By the time the ceremony rolled around in June, I was onstage offering a commencement speech to our young leaders (aptly, on the topic of finding our wings by bravely leaping into the unknown abyss before us) whilst suffering some of the worst pain I had ever felt. A few days later, the agony reached a fever pitch, and at the suggestion of my coworkers, I drove myself to the emergency room. There, a CT scan revealed a recurrence of cancer in my retroperitoneal (abdominal) lymph nodes, one of which was about the size of a baseball and likely causing all that pain. My amazing mother was there with me, and we cried together on a hospital bed in the hallway of the ER, accepting the moment and resolving to overcome the new challenge and learning opportunity placed before us.

Over the next several blurry days, I met with an oncologist, had a biopsy, banked sperm, and started chemotherapy. It is difficult to put words to that underworldly, months-long adventure — the creeping weakness and fatigue, the slimy whale-tongue feeling in my mouth, the fevers and nausea, the burnt-hair smell of my urine in the night — but chemo was intense and difficult, and it defined my summer in many ways. That medicine was also just one part of a multi-layered integrative approach to learning from this cancer teacher (dancing with cancer, as I came to think of it) that also included diet and nutrition, herbs and supplements, meditation and visualization, acupuncture and massage, energy work and chiropractic support, psychotherapy, indigenous shamanic healing, naturopathic consultations, and several other modalities and lifestyle shifts. One mentor of mine has jauntily described cancer as “inappropriately enthusiastic cells,” and suggested that our work in healing is to “out-enthuse them.” So I’ve attempted over the course of this long trial to do just that, connecting ever more powerfully with my zest for life and responding in this dance with all the joy and enthusiasm available to me. I resolved to treat this like the best thing that ever happened to me, and I truly feel blessed and honored to have undergone this initiation. May I always remember (and share) the gifts of this traumatic year!

Far and away the most impactful healing modality I’ve worked with has been listening and writing — attempting to get the message of this frightening experience, committing to transform my life accordingly, and engaging in the practices of life-integration and creative self-expression that are being asked of me. This illness showing up — especially originating in my reproductive system, my center of creation, and then recurring in my solar plexus area, my center of identity and will — has revealed to me a long-standing and deeply abiding need to share my story and sing my song (an impulse I had ignored, denied and suppressed for far too long, at my own peril). A book idea has been attempting to get my attention and claw its way out of me for nearly fifteen years, especially since losing my father thirteen years ago, and I am now finding great healing in organizing my thoughts, letting go of perfection, and writing it at long last. It is a substantial project that may take years, and as it takes shape behind the scenes, I have also found great empowerment in sharing shorter pieces of writing on my blog and in email dispatches that I occasionally send to my growing tribe of loved ones. It feels like this project of speaking my truth has only just begun, and in the new year I am excited to take it to the next level with more sustained and committed practice and daily dedication.

During my chemo summer, it took great acts of will just to write a few occasional paragraphs to share with my friends and family. I feel deep gratitude to all those who read my posts along the way, wrote me messages of solidarity and support on the path, and contributed to the crowdfunding campaign that my good friend Dana launched when my recurrence was diagnosed this summer. The funds raised there have helped me pay the ridiculous medical bills I’ve faced, afford all the other powerful and essential therapies not covered by insurance, and pay my bills while on disability during my medical leave from work. As the new year approaches (and with it, new expenses and a new health insurance deductible), I hope that a fresh wave of donations will stream in, fulfill my fundraising goal, and continue supporting me as I make my way into official remission and prepare to return to work this spring.

I spent my 36th birthday in the infusion chair, kicking off the third and final (and most brutal) round of chemo. I generally tend to enjoy using my birthday as an occasion for reflecting on my life and purpose, but this year it took on a whole new dimension. Awareness of our mortality tends to do that. The Angel of Death comes to us as a gift and a blessing and a teacher, questioning us about what we value most, reminding us of what is essential, and asking us, as poet Mary Oliver did, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? I have found through this most recent period of deep contemplation a renewed commitment to living life fully, speaking my truth authentically, liberating my gifts courageously, and cherishing the moments and relationships that make up my life. I am deeply grateful to be Satya’s father and I am pledged not only to love and care for her forever, but to stand as an example of whole-hearted, embodied, joyful and meaningful living.

One of the sweetest and biggest things that happened all year (or in the last several years really!) was my sister Renée’s visit. I can’t easily express in few words how sacred it was having her with me in my darkest and most difficult hour, but our time together was incredibly healing. Laughing and cuddling with her on the couch, holding her and my mother together as we melted into tears, was one of the most perfect moments of my life. I love my Néne!

Almost as abruptly as chemo had started, it came to an end, giving way to a series of follow-up tests, scans and conversations with doctors about whether or not to do a major surgery to remove a dozen or more abdominal lymph nodes from the area near where the cancer recurrence had occurred. After chemo ended, one of those lymph nodes — the one that had once been larger than an orange — remained slightly larger than normal (just over two centimeters in diameter instead of the 1-cm norm). Over the ensuing several weeks (throughout the autumn and up to the present moment of writing), I’ve continued to engage in a host of holistic therapies and healing practices to support my body in dissolving and removing any unwanted tissue on its own. I’ve been blessed to receive support from a number of gifted healers and powerful practices (many of which are absolutely beyond words) that have helped me achieve my current and deep belief that I am cancer-free. And in just a few days (on December 30th!) I’ll have my next CT scan — what I’m referring to as my “No Evidence of Disease Scan” — to document, insh’Allah, my remission.

After the intense summer, Satya began the third grade. We also celebrated her 9th birthday on October 25th, and days later, went trick-or-treating together dressed as Harry Potter and Hermione Granger from the book series that we have been reading together all year. (Just last week, we finished the fourth book and began the fifth, in my second read-through since high school of the epic masterpiece. How grateful I am for the presence of archetypal mythology to help us make sense of our existence!) Through this year of difficulty, Satya has been an amazing and caring companion. In some ways, she has had to grow up faster than anyone “should” have to; and in another sense, her very youth and innocence has served as a powerful medicine, re-orienting me to the present moment and reminding me at all times of the vital life ingredient that is play.

One particularly powerful (and playful!) healing experience I enjoyed this fall was an adventure retreat in Santa Barbara with other young adult cancer survivors, hosted by an organization called First Descents. I spend a long weekend surfing, kayaking, and connecting around the fire with some of the bravest people I’ve ever met. While in Southern California, I continued on to one of my favorite places on earth — Joshua Tree and the nearby dessert — where I spent a day hiking and a few more days soaking in hot springs, writing, and continuing to nurse this emerging creative self-expression project. My website (which once served as the digital hub of my campaigns for US Congress in 2016 and 2018) is now transforming into something I’m actually willing to share with people again — a home for my writing and a virtual mashup of the various aspects of my life. In the coming year, I will continue to develop www.nilspalsson.org into a vibrant manifestation of my creative projects and a place to share my medicine with the world.

The time around Thanksgiving brought with it some sweet family gatherings, including a visit from my uncle Wayne (a Seattle-based fisheries scientist who just retired from NOAA), and a holiday with the wonderful extended family my mother married into 20 years ago. This “season of giving” also brought about some deep reflection on how truly blessed we are — and the joyful imperative to give back generously in service of the common good. After offering my own tithe to a few dozen charitable organizations that inspire me, I published a Giving Guide on my website along with some thoughts on sharing. Satya and I also launched a Basic Necessities Drive at her school, which brought in carloads of donated clothes and blankets, and barrels full of food that was given promptly to those in need.

As I’ve deepened my integrative healing journey over the last few months, I’ve already seen one major reduction in the size of that “outlaw” lymph node we’ve been tracking. It decreased in volume by 20% in the span of the first eight weeks of holistic treatment following chemo. It has now been another eight weeks, and I go into my end-of-year CT scan with great hope and heart. In these last few weeks, in addition to continuing with my diet, supplements, and practices in healthy living, I’ve also had some amazing and mystical encounters that have suggested to me in no uncertain terms that cancer is gone from my body — that I have completed the need for its previous appearance and that it has no need to return. One of these ineffable experiences was a very recent week of deep inner work that I was blessed do with the support of some powerfully attuned healers and indigenous medicine from the South American jungle. I am in the process of integrating this part of my journey, and it may be some time before I’m able to publicly write much about it — but for now, suffice it to say that I was able to do some powerful detoxification and I am grateful to embody an increasingly deep sense of trust, faith, love and forgiveness. I am the guardian of my joy, and I will never shirk that sacred duty.

Almost immediately following this deeply healing series of ceremonies, I enjoyed an amazing week in the snow of Mount Shasta (one of my favorite places on earth) with my darling daughter. Satya and I stayed for a couple of those nights at the Railroad Park Resort in Dunsmuir, an old favorite haunt my dad and I used to visit, where old railcar cabooses have been retrofitted into cozy little rooms. We had a blast in the snow and savored the winter wonderland around us, sledding, building a snowman, and engaging in a days-long snowball fight for the ages. On the way home, we visited the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge, where we saw so many birds I half expected to hear David Attenborough’s voice to chime in through the ether.

Other recent highlights have included boogie boarding and frolicking in the surf with Satya; dancing the night away at my cousin Tess’s wedding in October; receiving an astrology reading from one of my all-time heroes, KPFA Visionary Activist Show host and trickster extraordinaire Caroline Casey; connecting with loved ones I hadn’t seen in ages while attending comedy shows at venues like Cobb’s in SF; and enjoying a solo Winter Solstice retreat at my long-time home-away-from-home, Harbin Hot Springs, where I now sit and put the finishing touches on this behemoth of a holiday letter.

Lately, I’ve had more and more contact with my coworkers and students at Quest Forward Academy, as I mentally prepare for my return to the educational community where I’ve made a professional home for myself these last few years as a mentor and administrator. This spring, I look forward to celebrating the graduation of my seniors, an amazing group of young people who began their freshman year the same time I started working at QFA (and who I’ve taught social science for three of their four years there). As I honor their commencement, I wonder what parts of me will be symbolically graduating along with them. Because I really believe in the school’s mission, and because I love my students and coworkers, I look forward to returning to work and further developing as a leader and educator. And because I value my own health and longevity, I also really look forward to engaging with my profession in a more sustainable way that centers my family, ongoing self-care, authentic expression, and daily writing practice.

I excitedly greet this Holiday Season and the coming New Year. Satya and I both look forward to spending Christmas Eve with our family in Sonoma County, Christmas Morning at home eating pancakes and opening presents with my mom, and a few mellow days together to close out 2021. After my No Evidence of Disease scan on the 30th, I’ll welcome 2022 from a retreat on the Mendocino Coast, as I continue orienting myself around this book project, my blog, and other creative visions for the new year (including a podcast!). From seeing my father across the grand finish line in 2008, to becoming a single dad and a teacher, to being displaced by wildfire while running for Congress, to my global travels and adventures in nonordinary reality, to my recent experience becoming a cancer survivor, I have lived through too many sacred experiences not to share them. Through it all, I’ve found a deep need to weave together my varied life experiences into a coherent narrative and share that story with the tribe. I can’t wait to announce the completion of this book — but first, I get to write it! I feel like I am embarking on a whole new journey here.

My dance with cancer this year has alerted me to the urgency of integrating my life and leaning into my role as a writer, storyteller and content creator — and I ultimately desire to see my creative work eclipse my other forms of service entirely. I intend in the first months of the new year to officially launch my Patreon account, where friends who appreciate my offerings are invited to make a modest monthly contribution to support my deepest and most authentic work. I appreciate the support of my loved ones during this difficult year, and I give thanks for your committed ongoing patronage as I launch boldly into this next iteration of my existence.

Some other visions I look forward to manifesting in the new year include another adventure retreat with young cancer survivors (this time snowboarding in Tahoe through the Send It Foundation), taking Satya back to my old home of New York City for a week in Late February, hiking and camping as much as possible, and spending my next birthday on a train trip with Satya from my old home in London to our ancestral homeland of Sweden and Finland. I also intend to continue practicing yoga, eating well and working out. In 2022, I’m not only going to stay healthy; I’m getting into the best shape of my life! In addition to galvanizing within me the urgent need to express creativity and share my story, my experience with cancer this year has crystallized the importance of living life fully and taking bold steps right now to live out our wildest dreams (and cross items off our bucket-lists!) without delay. As philosopher José Ortega y Gasset reminds us,

As we each step into this next year of urgent, beautiful life, I wish you the happiness and simplicity that are our birthright. I can personally attest to how easy it is to get lost in thought, be wrapped up in things outside our immediate control, and forget our immense power as the stewards of our lives, the creators of our experience, and the guardians of our joy. I wish you remembering of your power. I wish you consciousness of the awesome present moment. I wish you deep and meaningful experiences in love and opportunities to be of service. I wish you play and fun. I wish you health and wellness. I wish you abundance and prosperity. May your wildest dreams come true and may you spiral forth into ever more awesome and authentic expressions of the perfect being that you are.

Onward in Love and Light,

Nils