I asked several friends in my writers' circle to guest blog for me as I recover from chemotherapy treatments. Though my treatments begin next week, I find myself too agitated and unfocused to compose much today. So I'm running the first guest blog. It's from my friend Keri, an award-winning reporter I met seven years ago.

Today I started a new program, “29 gifts in 29 days (www.29gifts.org).” I have to give away something—anything—to someone else at least once a day for twenty-nine days. And I’m supposed to journal about it, and also keep a “gratitude” list.

I won’t go into why I would need such a program—that’s probably a topic for my own blog (soon to appear at www.KeriBrennerCommunications.com). Suffice it to say that my daily life’s “background soundtrack” has been focusing too much lately on what I perceive as my lack or failure or problems. By focusing on giving, I hope to turn off the negative feed and instead add juice to the part of me that is abundant and has something to offer.

So Juli, my dear fellow writer friend for the last seven years, the first gift goes to you: this blog post. You invited me to be a guest blogger for The Still Voice while you are recovering from chemotherapy, and I agreed. So the timing of this gift feels perfect.

Juli, I am so struck by your clear and passionate writing, as well as by your courage in facing your breast cancer diagnosis head-on and with a determination to be proactive in your treatment and your research. But, even you had some doubts about my e-mail recommendation that I was “sending you white light.” What was that, anyway, you asked?

Here’s my best extremely technical scientific answer: white light is the opposite of worry. I’m not sending you worry thoughts; I’m sending white light.

In my understanding of the world, thoughts are the energetic seeds that grow the stuff of physical reality. If your thoughts are full of worry, then you create more worry in the world. Thoughts of white light are for love, good health, abundance, happiness and joy.

I tell my mother in Philadelphia this all the time. When she says, “I’m worried about you,” I tell her, “Don’t send me worry; send me white light.” It took a while to convince her. But now, she does.

And so, in turn, do I to you.