After a long afternoon of motivational meetings, I take a break to chat with women employees in my office. I’m making us all laugh by telling a joke. My gestures are exaggerated as I clown around. By chance, my right hand brushes the side of my breast. Through my bra and heavy denim shirt, I feel a hard area with the tips of my fingers. It’s a shock that carbonates my blood.

Excerpt from "When the Body Speaks," The Art of Surrender; Image: Treasure Chest, Copyright © 2005 Becca Smith, All Rights Reserved