You can receive many benefits when you practice relaxation techniques. Some of these include lowering your blood pressure, reducing muscle tension, enhancing the immune system, better balance, improved memory and increased energy. It can also potentially improve concentration and cause you to be more efficient in daily activities.

1. Yoga -- is defined by Wikpedia -- its ultimate goal is the attainment of an eternal state of perfect consciousness. I find it to be a great relaxation technique to try. It really seemed to clear my mind by the breathing and concentrated movements. It brings yourself into a state of relaxation by blocking everything out and concentrating on what your body is doing.
2. Tai-Chi -- This type of relaxation technique is something that I have never tried. MayoClinc.com describes --Tai chi as a noncompetitive, self-paced system of gentle physical exercise. To do tai chi, you perform a defined series of postures or movements in a slow, graceful manner. Each movement or posture flows into the next without pausing.
3. Music -- We know how music can induce many emotions to surface. Emotions from the past for instance, can't some songs just bring you back to how you felt in that past moment? It makes sense to me that forms of music can calm and relax.
4. Exercise -- This relaxation technique can mean anything from cardio, weight training and low impact exercises. It really depends on the individual, some will get lots of stress relief when a training consists of higher impact workouts. Don't forget walking -- its one thing we can all try to do more of.
5. Meditation -- I'm no expert on meditation but I have listened to a few relaxation technique tapes after my breast cancer diagnoses. It seemed to help me relax. I never stuck with it though for some reason. I look at meditation as something that can be found in your own special way. I thought you had to just sit still and listen to music and try not to think -- not a very simple task as I'm sure we all know. I find a nice bath with a book and glass of wine as my form of mediation. You can find yours too.
6. Hypnosis --Again this type of relax technique is one that I have never experienced. It is said to be able to put a person into a deep relaxation stage very quickly and can relieve stress.
7. Massage -- This technique I'm happy to say that I indulge. Especially foot massages, it relaxes my whole body. Its a way to give yourself a much needed gift.

Remember before doing any exercises or relaxation techniques please talk to your doctor to make sure its safe -- especially if you have any medical conditions.

Gardening is good for the soul. I'm sure of it. It did wonders for my grandma, who planted and flowered and blossomed for most of her life and long after her rounded back and arthritic fingers told her to stop. She just couldn't help herself -- the fruits of the earth brought her such joy that the toll hard labor took on her body was somehow worth every trace of dirt that crumbled beneath her fingertips.

In my own small way, I can't resist either. I'm no lifelong gardener or anything. I'm more of a spur-of-the-moment kind of girl. And I haven't a green thumb on either of my hands. My flowers always seem to die. Because no matter how much I love them at the beginning of the warm season, I end up neglecting them.

I tell my husband every year, "Please remind me not to buy flowers this year." It just seems silly to spend so much money only to toss my dead blooms after they wither and shrivel. So my husband reminds me. And I go right back out and buy more. Like I did today.

I spent about an hour with my little boys shoveling dirt and arranging red and orange and yellow and white flowers in all sorts of pots. It was a priceless hour -- although really it cost me about 60 bucks. It was refreshing and rejuvenating and in a way, healing.

I know the effects of today's flower therapy will fade, just as the flowers themselves will fail to thrive. But I also know I will do it all again next year. Because it's good for my soul. And I just can't resist.

The second issue of the magazine Beyond: Live & Thrive After Breast Cancer will hit newsstands March 20.

The magazine, one of many targeting individuals with manageable conditions and diseases, such as allergies, heart disease, diabetes, and rheumatoid arthritis, stands out as an upbeat, positive, feel-good package of information and inspiration.

University of Mississippi journalism professor Samir Husni says magazines of this sort that succeed are the ones offering up a good dose of chicken soup for the soul. This is definitely a magazine good for the soul.

Beyond editor Martha Miller Johnson calls the magazine a purveyor of hope and information, a source of reliable facts, figures, and features for the growing community of survivors living with breast cancer. Beyond is for "the women who has been through her initial treatment and now sees her life through a different prism," says Johnson.

"Her body's changed, her skin's changed. To her, it's not a death sentence; it's a condition she just has to live with. More and more women are living with breast cancer."

The soon-to-be-released publication spotlights breast cancer survivor Deanna Favre with husband Brett Favre and includes stories about breast cancer and black women, chemotherapy and weight gain, and the most important questions to ask your doctor.

Why pick up a copy of Beyond's Spring/Summer issue this March 20? Because breast cancer attacks so many aspects of our well-being, says one survivor of the disease.

"It's your identity, it's your sexuality, it's your womanhood. Fertility. For many of us, it throws us into menopause early," she says. "Every aspect of your emotional and psychological well-being is impacted by cancer and the treatment. So that kind of puts it in its own category, I think. So you combine that with the fact that there are so many women going through it, and I think you do have a market there for something like this."

I couldn't have said it better.

Chemotherapy can upset the digestive system. It can cause nausea and vomiting -- although I never did throw up during my own chemotherapy, thanks to medication for these side effects. Chemotherapy can diminish overall feelings of wellness and can cause sore gums and mouth sores and dry mouths. Clearly, chemotherapy can ruin an appetite.

But patients receiving chemotherapy need to eat. And they need to drink. They need to maintain nutrition and energy and strength during a physically taxing time. And so the challenge facing many entrenched in chemotherapy is how to eat when the act of chewing, swallowing, and digesting food is so completely unappetizing.

Barbara Curtis shares in a chapter of Chicken Soup for the Breast Cancer Survivor's Soul a recipe that made a difference for her sister during her worst days of chemotherapy.

Her recipe -- for chemo popsicles -- includes essential ingredients. Fruit and tofu provide phytochemicals, protein, and liquids for depleted bodies. The cool popsicle soothes sore mouths and settles stomachs. And the ease of putting together this simple snack is nothing short of tempting.

My advice -- save this recipe. And savor it too.

Chemo Popsicles

Fresh-squeezed orange juice, one 8-ounce glass
Frozen mangoes, 1/4 package, or 1 cup frozen berries
1/4 square tofu, medium firmness
One banana
Add passionfruit juice or other fruit juices for flavor

Put all ingredients into a blender. Blend to liquify. Add more juice if mixture is too thick -- it should be as thick as a smoothie. Pour blended mixture into Tupperware or plastic popsicle molds and freeze.

I've never had a problem with crying. My tears of joy and sorrow have always flowed easily, and I have never regretted shedding any one of them. I once told a college student I mentored who was hesitant to cry over a work-related scenario that I cry all the time. She later told me my confession sticks in her mind -- my ability and willingness to cry freely, without reservation. I told her I consider crying a cleansing, therapeutic process. I told her that I always feel replenished after a good cry. And I still believe this, years and years after my encounter with this student.

I cried just a few days ago while talking to my doctor and then my mom about how cancer may prevent me from having another child, if not physically, then emotionally. I just don't know if I could peacefully experience a pregnancy with the fear of cancer recurrence. And this makes me cry. Because I want another child. But I don't think I will have one. I cried at my oncologist appointment the other day while talking about the death of a friend. I cry while reading certain books and while watching sad movies and television shows. Two nights ago, I cried while watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, about a breast cancer survivor. I cry when recalling the births of my babies and while marveling at my little growing boys. And I know I will cry when I read a journal a friend just shared with me, written by his uncle who lost a daughter to brain cancer.

Tears cleanse my soul. And sometimes, they complicate matters. They make me wonder how well I am, two years after my cancer diagnosis. I interpret my tears now more than ever, in an effort to determine how well I am coping with life in survival mode. I wonder if the tears that frequently well up in my eyes are normal or if they are indicative of the depression that prompted my oncologist to prescribe an anti-depressant. I consider that perhaps I should be better able to handle some topics, some situations, some tough experiences without becoming weepy. And I also realize that perhaps my tears are completely normal, that I could be ultra sensitive to my every emotion, that as long as I feel happy and function easily, I am just fine.

I plan to iron all this out at my next and final counseling session that I need to schedule. This closing session will allow me to wrap up two year's worth of cancer issues, to close one chapter of my life and begin another. I just need to make the appointment. Which I have yet to do. Because contemplating the end of something so healing seems so daunting. And for better or for worse, this makes me cry.

Adriene Hughes was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after her 44th year of living. She found her lump after participating in a 5K walk, which for some reason, caused her breast to swell. The swelling led her to the lump -- and that's how she discovered her cancer. Adriene lives in Southern California, works as a media specialist, and spends her time taking photographs, knitting, and baking cookies and breads.

I have never met Adriene, have never spoken with Adriene. But we have communicated through our on-line journals and through e-mail ever since November 2004 -- when we each received a breast cancer diagnosis that changed the course of our lives forever.

Adriene is a gem, a treasure, a true inspiration. And here are her words.

It's hard to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me during my bad days with cancer. I could call them consuming and crushing and sickening and frightening and crippling and still not completely cover all the bases. It's much easier to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me on my good days with cancer. I felt -- and still mostly feel this way -- happy and spunky and motivated and invigorated and fulfilled. And I felt loved -- because most of my bad days were turned around by the love of others. It was like clockwork. When I needed it most, a surprise awaited me in my mailbox or my inbox or on on the other side of my front door or on my front porch. These surprises strengthened me on my bad days -- and sometimes beyond the bad days. They still help me really -- because my memory of how they saved me from days of despair continues to fuel my good days. And here are seven of my special surprises.

I was present for death only one time in my 36 years of life. I consider this both a bad and a good thing. It's bad because I did not want my grandmother to die -- and watching it happen made it so real, so vivid, so painful. I don't think I would have ever chosen to watch my grandma die -- to watch her slip from consciousness to coma, to observe her altered body once death arrived, to witness the movement of her body on a stretcher as it was wheeled out of the house from the bedroom I still see every time I visit my mom's house. But I think I am lucky really -- and this is the good part -- because I got to be with her during her final moments. I got to watch her body as it lay still, peaceful and calm and still breathing. I got to talk to her and although she could not respond, I believe she could hear my words. And it makes me happy to know my grandma may have known I was with just prior to her flight to heaven. And after her flight, I got to touch her cool hands. I got to feel the power of the passing of one life -- a long life -- and I got to feel the comfort of a death that was not ugly or painful or difficult. It was sad -- it's still sad -- that my grandma died three years ago. But what a privilege it was to be part of the day she left this world.

Susan DeWilde left this world in much the same way -- with loved ones by her side. She was a fighter and had conquered several rounds of breast cancer, a tumor in her spinal cord, uterine cancer, lymphatic cancer, and then leukemia, which took her life at the age of 53. I don't know this from Susan herself but from her friend, Christy Mack -- who helped her accept her death and guided her into her own final moments so that she could escape her pain and die peacefully. Christy writes about her beautiful friend and her empowering death in an article that appears in the August 2006 Oprah Magazine. Titled Friends to the End, Christy's story details how she soothed her friend, cradled her hand, and talked her through her last breaths. She helped her on her way during a time her friend feared most. Christy writes, "What she and I shared the night she died was a precious gift of friendship, emotionally profound and sacred in its perfection. It broke my heart. It strengthened my soul."

This I understand.

I found Sark long ago -- about 10 years ago when I was working with college students on a campus in Virginia. Part of my job was supervising Resident Assistants -- students who live and work on the residence hall floors and are responsible for building community among residents -- advising them and counseling them and mentoring them and stepping in when conflict and trouble arises. It's a tough job -- being a peer and being in charge at the same time -- and Resident Assistants receive intensive training on how to best manage a floor of students possibly living away from home for the first time. I got to train these student leaders at times -- and Sark's books helped me motivate, inspire, and get to know these individuals. And over the years, as I assumed other jobs and roles and purposes, I found that Sark was still a great companion for me. And now I realize that what Sark has to offer really applies to anyone looking for a little inspiration, a little direction, a little creativity, a little delight.

I wrote earlier today about my mom -- about how she was headed for a mammogram this afternoon. She has since been for her exam, returned, and shared the news that we all wish for -- everything looks fine. Nothing suspicious. No cancer. And so that is my gift for today.

I have received many gifts as a result of cancer -- the news of a clean and clear mammogram is just one such gift. There are many emotional gifts I've received since my breast cancer diagnosis a year and a half ago -- extra love, overwhelming support, loads of kindness, an abundance of prayers, recent compliments about my new dark, curly hair. And I've received many tangible gifts too that comfort me every day. When I walk into my kitchen, I see an angel made from a paper clip, a bead, and a ribbon -- it was a gift from my Chemo Angel once I graduated from my eight-week course in chemotherapy. When I walk into my bedroom, I see the quilt on my bed that was made by the loving hands of my mom friends and then delivered to my doorstep when I was sick, tired, and bald. I see a pink stuffed breast cancer bear sitting on my dresser and yellow, fuzzy, comfy socks inside my dresser drawer. I see a box of cards and letters and books and relaxation tapes -- and so much more -- that sits in another room. I wear a breast cancer charm bracelet that dangles from one arm and another that jingles from my other arm and a backpack that hangs from my back. I am surrounded by gifts that were priceless when they were given to me and are just as priceless today.

These gifts that adorn my personal space lift my spirits, warm my soul, inspire me. They are constant reminders of where I've been and how far I've come. My gifts -- good news from a mammogram, emotional rewards, and actual tokens of the love and support that surround me -- have become a therapy I never looked for, never knew I'd discover, and never would trade for anything.

I've always been a fan of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I've been touched, motivated, inspired and brought to tears by the short stories that lie between the covers of these books -- stories that dive into the depths of family and parenthood and work and teaching and death and religion and even cooking. They warm my heart and rejuvenate my spirit. It's been a while since I've read one of these books, though -- it's been a while since I've read any book lately -- and I think I need another serving of chicken soup. Chicken Soup for the Surviving Soul is exactly what I need.

One of the first recommendations I received after my cancer diagnosis was this -- write everything down. I was told to write down dates and times of appointments, results of tests, names and doses of medications, all procedures and protocols, every question that popped into my mind, and the general gist of what doctors and assistants and nurses and technicians told me.

Because the stuff that comes with a cancer diagnosis is overwhelming and confusing and disorienting -- and writing it all down can help manage the chaos of it all.