Sacrifice is an art largely lost on contemporary mainstream American culture. I think we even view the idea as somewhat barbaric, or at least laughable. The word ’sacrifice’ means ‘to make sacred,’ and America is sorely lacking a unifying sense of the sacred that is not seen as rabid and rapacious or flaky and ignorant.

Last April, I had a right orchiectomy because I had two small tumors on my right testicle. When the doctor told me that it was going to have to come out, I was relatively freaked, but knew in no uncertain terms that he was right. I decided fairly quickly, though, that I was going to trust the Universe to be presenting me with exactly what I needed to grow in precisely the way I wished to grow. I’ve found that adopting this view, while somewhat “irrational,” is highly functional for creating an experience of peace and happiness, and as there is no way to objectively determine that the Universe doesn’t work like that, I figure why not go for happy.

With this resolution in mind, I actively chose to view the loss of my testicle as a sacrifice. It was not something being taken from me, but something I willingly offered up to the Gods, the Universe, the Ancestral Spirits, whatever, to show willingness and readiness to receive a greater experience of the sacred in my life.

When I entered surgery, I was calm, I was peaceful, I was smiling and joking with the staff. I was, in fact, doing all I could to keep my mother calm, because she was far more freaked out than I was (as is a mother’s job, I suppose!). The last thing I remember thinking as they put me under was a prayer of offering, to whoever might be listening.

When I had more or less recovered about a week later, I noticed that I was consistently happier than I had been before the surgery. I was more calm, more level, more connected. I was rolling with emotional punches that could have thrown me previously, and I was smiling more. I felt gentle.

I’m certainly not recommending everyone get cancer or have invasive surgery to remove pieces of themselves. What I’m suggesting, though, is that if you tell a story about yourself of sacrifice, humble offering, and willingness to receive what the Universe will send you next, you’re far more likely to have an uplifting experience of life. I sincerely identify getting cancer as one of the single best things that has ever happened to me, not because going through the surgery was fun, but because I dedicated the surgery and loss of my testicle (clearly an emotionally charged part of the anatomy if ever there was one!) to my own growth and understanding.

Next time you’re thrown a curveball that you know could cause you emotional distress, take at least a moment to offer your pain up to whatever you can believe in: your highest self, your subconscious mind and its machinations, the Universe, Jesus, Mary, Krishna, Kali, the Buddha, Great Spirit. Who you’re offering to honestly, in my opinion, doesn’t matter. What matters is making an offering from love and trust, and letting the Universe provide.