What follows is the edited, translated transcript of a talk Rosie Belendez delivered online in May 2025. It is shared here with her permission. You can watch the full talk in Spanish here.

I'm grateful to this group and to the hosts for inviting me—especially because they are doing such beautiful work with all of you who are taking this course to transform your life for the better. I truly believe that we cannot delay our own inner transformation; the times demand it! We can no longer hope just be a light in people's lives—we have to be a torch. Things are difficult on one hand, yet full of luminous promises on the other. So it's important how we position ourselves in the face of all that.

Very briefly, my story began seven years ago when I felt a small lump in my right breast. I said, "Ah, nothing." After a couple of months I said, "Well, okay, I'm going to check it." When I did, they said it needed monitoring. They did a mammogram, an ultrasound, and told me to come back in six months—or sooner. Of course, I didn't return a day earlier, even though it kept growing, because I was sure it wasn't anything bad. When I finally went back, it had grown enough that they wanted a biopsy, but the facilities weren't available here in Cuernavaca. Two months passed before I had the biopsy. When they called and told me I needed to speak with the psychologist, I thought, "Uh-oh," and yes—it was a malignant tumor.

They referred me to INCAN, the Instituto Nacional de Cancerología. Six years ago in March, more tests confirmed it wasn't just a simple infiltrative breast carcinoma. It was worse—a triple negative tumor, meaning it didn't have receptors for HER2, estrogen, or progesterone. That makes it more aggressive, more prone to metastasis, and less responsive to chemotherapy. INCAN is a magnificent place—I highly recommend it. The service, the care, the quality are excellent. But, well, they do what they do as allopaths. After all the studies (at super reasonable prices—PET scans, everything), they didn't send me to surgery because it was too large. Instead, they sent me to chemo. I kept avoiding it. In the end, I was convinced I didn't want to take that route. I didn't want to undergo such a toxic approach.

One of the things I've learned is that in very difficult situations, we have to choose our fears. I can't say I wasn't afraid when I thought, "Shoot, I have cancer—maybe I'll die soon." But there are different kinds of fear. I'm strong but not robust physically—I'm super skinny, just 38 kg. I thought, if they give me chemo, it'll kill me. And besides, chemo doesn't always work for triple negative tumors. I also didn't want a major operation. I wasn't convinced. So I started, from day one, to do alternative things. Much of what I'll share today follows the outline of Kelly Turner's second book. Her first book outlined nine elements for radical remission, and then she wrote another—"Radical Hope," which includes 10 key factors. That title is very interesting, because if we don't have hope in what we're doing, we'll go through the motions mechanically, full of doubt and fear. We'll end up sabotaging our own healing.

Now, why was I invited to speak to this group—which isn't just for women with cancer? Because these 10 elements apply to any serious illness, and in fact to living a healthy and harmonious life. Today, there are many autoimmune diseases and difficult-to-cure cancers. These are universal principles about what practices lead to healing and which ones don't. As good students of this longevity course—of prosperity and well-being—the first thing we need to do is to become friends with the fact that we're going to die. We bury that truth: let the old people die, let others die—but don't talk to me about it. Yet the question isn't if we're going to die, because we are. It's how we're going to live, so that our death is a delicious adventure to the next step.

When you face a disease with a fatal or highly restrictive prognosis, the order of the conditions unveiled by Kelly Turner may vary. But for me, the first step is empowerment. I was already empowered in the sense that I knew there were other medical paths, other healers. But even then, the people who love me would say, "Do it for me. You're important to me, to my children, to my patients." Indeed, it's very important to have a good reasons to live—and the first is loving ourselves enough to say, "I have to take this bull by the horns." If I don't—and I even take one step away from that intention—it'll run wild. What does that mean in practice? It means that when faced with illness, we need to study. Not on the most commercial Google pages, but real medical sources. There's one called PubMed. For example, if you search "cancer and turkey tail mushroom," you'll find 50 studies on its benefits. Alternative cures are also showing up in scientific peer-reviewed research papers.

So empowerment is about informing ourselves. It's about deciding who we talk to at first—especially who we listen to. I would say, "I love you and you love me. And I know that's why you want me to do this terrible chemo so that I live. But I'm going to do this my way." We empower ourselves when we remember that if we cut ourselves, the body starts healing immediately. It begins to close the wound, and form a scar. The body is a healing factory. It's a factory of homeostasis. It's always doing things to keep us well. We'll talk about how we sabotage that factory through poor eating and sleeping, but for now, simply remembering that our body wants to heal and knows how to heal gives us power. That liver, those cells, that immune system—it's all mine, not someone else's.

This power often comes from within—a connection we may have forgotten, with our body and with ourselves. When we pause and ask, "What happened?"—without blaming ourselves—intuition comes in. Intuition is studied now; it's a certainty that we access without the slow rational processing. It comes from the resonance between heart and brain. Let me pause here. I don't remember whether I was already in remission or already doing ZNQG when Kelly Turner's first book, Radical Remision fell into my hands. I looked at her nine points and realized—I'd done them all. I hadn't read the book to follow them. That's mostly how I lived and added more emphasis and discipline in some areas. The only point she hadn't mentioned and which I believed was very important, was exercise. I was happy that she added it in her second book, "Radical Hope."

Now there's scientific proof to her list of "conditions" In the past, if it didn't come from a lab, people didn't believe it; now statistics are very detailed. Statistically, people who use their intuition heal faster and have more remissions. So the third element is trusting that intuition and not giving my power away—even to a good doctor. Dr. Robin at INCAN told me, "You want to avoid chemo. I can operate, but you'll still need chemo after." And added, "You're healthy, no heart problems, no diabetes. But every woman who avoids chemo ends up coming back to me full of metastases." She said it with love. She wanted me to live. She said, "If there were something else that worked, I'd know. I go to international conferences every year."

I said to myself, "You've scared me, but I still feel this is not my path." I wasn't being dogmatic—I didn't want to die. So I said no. I started with a therapy called NAET—Nambudripad's Allergy Elimination Technique. It energetically treats allergies and sensitivities and has a specific protocol for cancer. In the world of alternative medicine, we don't speak of cancer as a battle or speak of medicines "against" cancer. Cancer isn't a battle, and treatments aren't enemies. They're allies that support the body's own processes—processes that help stop cancer, shrink it, or send it on vacation.

Parallel to NAET, I made a radical diet change. I already ate mostly organic and no junk food. I didn't eat much sugar or flour. But when cancer showed up, I found a website—chrisbeatcancer.com—took his course, and went on a raw-only diet and green juices. I don't recommend it now, but I think it helped me. My kids would say, "Mom, you never leave the kitchen table," because eating everything raw meant chewing and chewing. Broccoli, raw! I ate no meat, no eggs, nothing cooked. I lost weight. Later I added some grains and legumes, which helped. The diet change means many things. First, a deep desire to heal. No one wants to give up their bread or sugar—but no one wants to die either. And the truth is: no alcohol, no junk food, no sugar, no refined flours, no processed meats must go. Everyone agrees tumors feed on glucose; that's what enables them to grow fast and create new blood vessels (angiogenesis). We need to starve them!

There's also debate about —no meat, yes to fish, maybe chicken. Last year I tried the carnivore diet. I was impressed. I always try things before recommending them. I felt amazing—no gas, lots of energy—but lost weight, which I can't afford. Other authors, like Dr. William Li are big on the fruits and legumes that help fight cancer. People with autoimmune diseases are often sensitive to compounds in plants—substances plants use to defend themselves from pests. So vegetarian diets don't always work for them. In general, cancer patients need protein. Carbs don't help. So: eat organic when possible, eat tasty, eat enough but not too much. The Chinese say to leave the table with your stomach 15% empty. We overeat by 125% or more and feel awful. If we stop when we're just barely satisfied, we have more energy and digest better. Our diet also reflects emotions that I might be soothing or hiding with my Coke or my tequila or my sweet bread or my overeating. When we stop those habits we have to face what we were avoiding. When we face a disease with a poor prognosis we change our diet because we want to live, not just fit into a dress for a wedding.

Oh—and please, never say to someone with cancer, "Put more effort into it." "Try harder" "Do your best." It makes one want to slap the person. People are doing their best. And they have the right to feel awful, defeated, and just need to be held.

Along with diet, I prescribe homeopathy. I've been a homeopathic medical doctor for 50 years—practicing the oldest quantum, holistic medicine in the Western world. After the 12th centesimal dilution, no material trace remains—only quantum information that teaches the body to heal based on similarity. As far as supplements and herbs I think my most potent helpers were Turkey Tail mushrooms and broccoli sprouts. The 5-day sprout contains everything. I took it in capsule form. It stops angiogenesis (new tumor blood vessels) and makes the tumor membrane permeable so killer cells can enter. Supplements I consider essential for cancer: vitamin D3, vitamin C, magnesium, selenium, zinc and others. Many other herbs and essential oils help, too.

Exercise is a wonder. Studies show that cancer patients—chemo or not—who exercise have better outcomes. Exercise stimulates happy neurotransmitters, which in turn boost the immune system. How can I feel empowered if my body is weak? We need to feel strong, to walk up a hill without panting, to feel our pants still fit. As a child, I was tiny. A ballet teacher once told my mom, "Better not bring her, she'll break." So I didn't grow strong. At school, I was the last picked for games. As an adult I finally realized that was nonsense. I swam and hiked frequently. Now, I'm stronger than ever. I run faster than many younger people, I swim daily, lift weights—and most importantly, I've made peace with looking like…me. Diet and exercise bring unexpected healing. Let's explore them, even if they don't initially make sense. I now do a form of high-impact interval exercise that's very comfortable. You do a short burst, rest for 30 seconds, repeat. Just 20 minutes—and even if that's all you can do, it helps immensely.

Energy medicine is often absolutely essential for healing. Why? Because we are souls inhabiting bodies. The soul leaves; the body returns to dust. When we start eating well and exercising, we connect with life force. Homeopathy, herbs, supplements, and many other energy healing modalities improve our vital force.

The most powerful energy medicine for me was Zhineng Qi Gong. My tumor was stable—not painful, growing very little. Then a lump appeared in my armpit—two lymph nodes, joined like a peanut shell. Then I saw a flyer for a 3-week intensive cancer healing course at a ZNQG center in Xi'an, China.

Three weeks later, at the end of the course, an ultrasound showed a 40% reduction in the tumor. This was confirmed in Mexico. Tumors know how to grow—not how to shrink. I knew I was on the road to healing. In China, I wasn't even taking any of my usual remedies. They gave us good food—very healthy, little meat, lots of vegetables. When I got back, the pandemic was just beginning—it was November 2019. I continued online practice. A year later, after steady practice and a positive mindset, the tumor showed no metabolic activity. The radiologist didn't say it was gone—he said, "Until I see it on a biopsy and PET scan, I can just say there's no metabolic activity." That was good enough for me.

Practicing Zhineng Qi Gong means gathering energy from the Source, great universe—from the blue sky, metaphorically—and bringing it to the reservoir here in the lower abdomen, then mobilizing it throughout the body. The Chinese say that Qi (vital energy) follows the mind. So this begins with intention. And the Qi takes care of moving the physical—not the other way around. The Qi moves first. We might say: Qi follows the mind, and the body follows the mind. So, from the most intimate part of our energy, the mind becomes the conductor of the orchestra. In that enthusiasm, we connect with the divine.

We can't call on this energy without recognizing that everything—our bodies, our lives, even our illnesses—are as sacred as the energy itself. We draw on energy that's already within us—amplifying it, reconnecting with it, and allowing it to circulate more freely. So it's not different from praying. Not saying, "God, heal me," but contacting that divine love, that sacred love, and filling ourselves with that energy which is bigger than us, and trusting that it helps us. Its the same with meditation and other spiritual practices.

Perhaps ultimately, it's simply that we don't yet know we are that which we appeal to—and that we have it inside. But it doesn't matter, as long as we appeal to it, as long as we know that everything is sacred—and that illness, too, occupies a sacred place. It's not a battle, but a call to attention. A gift in an ugly, stinky, sticky wrapping. But a gift, in that it helps prepare us to heal. And when we do this, we don't just prepare to heal—we prepare to live better. Which guarantees dying better. The goal isn't necessarily to cure the cancer. The goal is to do what I can, and if healing doesn't happen, then I'll arrive at death healthier than before the cancer. So there's no loss.

All the paths that lead us to stop, to be present, to pay attention, to open ourselves to something greater—they are all connected at the root. Shamanism, Catholicism, whatever is practiced in that spirit of surrender and curiosity is perfect for who we are. We don't try to force change—but change comes naturally.

And now, let's talk about emotions. Of course, having done all these things, we begin to change emotionally. Our diet changes us emotionally because when we eat things that inflame us, it clouds our minds and triggers us in different ways, towards depression or anger and rigidity. When inflammation goes down, brain inflammation also goes down, the short fuse goes down, and our stubbornness goes down too. When we begin to change—or when we're frightened by a life-threatening diagnosis—we often come face to face with our ghosts, our buried emotions, our inner monsters. This is a gift because now these parts of ourselves have the chance to transform.

Studies show that people who are optimistic, who listen to their intuition, who exercise—heal better. And I say this as someone who has a mind that doesn't stop. But now it no longer camps in negative thoughts. If only we would learn a practice, in meditation or rest, to notice our loops. Maybe our loop is blaming others: "They did this to me." Or maybe it's blaming ourselves: "I'm not enough." We have around 50,000 thoughts a day—almost all repetitive and uninteresting. We need practice to catch ourselves: "Ah, I'm here again." Interrupt the thought mid-criticism. When we do that, we are also open to more compassion for ourselves—because at the root of it, we only criticize others to avoid criticizing ourselves. Returning to these patterns with love and compassion lets us soften the childhood-rooted beliefs: "I'm not useful," "I'm not enough," "I don't deserve." The variety of limiting beliefs isn't vast—but we often carry several.

When we have cancer, many distractions suddenly feel banal. And when we're no longer consumed by unimportant things, it frees us to turn inward—to pay attention to what truly matters. I always recommend what I believe. Some people may grow a lot through psychoanalysis—but I don't recommend it for cancer for a variety of reasons, including the urgency of time. Instead, I recommend short therapies that are non-violent, non-directive, body-inclusive and that open us up, creating a compassionate and sensitive space.

I practice Hakomi and shamanism. My shamanic lineage comes from the Peruvian Andes. It's about letting go, recognizing, and shedding our attachments to pain, beliefs, limitations—so they stop defining us. I used to identify as the "too skinny, ugly and dumb." How I wasted those years! Now I look back and realize—I was actually pretty and emotionally intelligent, even if I was poor at math. These are seemingly trivial things, but when we believe them, we make ourselves small. The invitation is to reclaim our true size—which is always enormous. And we need courage, but also detachment from the drama, to recognize that.

Having positive emotions doesn't mean we don't cry. Saying "Yes, I can heal" doesn't mean we won't say, "Why is this so hard?" The only way out is thru, and sometimes we have to cry again and again, just don't set up camp there. On the other side of grief, an insight awaits. It will humanize us.

Next point: In Kelly Turner's book, I read something that surprised me: Kelly quotes from a scientific study that says, "social connection can be more beneficial to health than exercise, a healthy diet, or avoiding alcohol and tobacco". When we receive love or comfort, the brain produces healing neurotransmitters like oxytocin, serotonin, and certain hormones. These increase immunity, reduce inflammation, improve oxygenation and circulation, and boost T cells and blood cells.

Living alone is not the same as feeling lonely. People who feel isolated get sicker longer. So create community. Maybe it's a spouse, or 30 friends bringing food during chemo. Community is what makes us human. It means letting go of the arrogance of "I can do it alone." In modern societies there's an emphasis on independence over interdependence. But we're not meant to be alone—just as children aren't meant to go uncuddled. Children need to be seen, affirmed, and praised repeatedly. If they aren't, they don't grow well. So choose your friends wisely. You begin to discern who helps and who harms—and we learn to draw necessary limits. Luminous humans live with honesty about what we need, what works for us. And we learn that asking is beautiful. If it's met with a "no," that's beautiful too—because asking is freedom, and so is the other person's response.

The most important reason to live with cancer is that life is worth it. We connect—with ourselves, the divine, our support networks, nature and the world as a whole. Life becomes meaningful. My husband passed away a few years ago. He was a pillar during my illness and the kindest and most peaceful human being I have ever met. Of course he was a reason to live. But I've come to understand: no one can be our sole reason for living. That's too much to place on someone. You have to empty yourself of that kind of need—like in love. If you need the other because "I can't live without him," poor him! That's not love, that's dependence. We need to fill ourselves in order to truly receive and give. And ultimately, our purpose will be connected to service.

If you have cancer and are focused only on your suffering, find someone else who needs help. You can't just receive—you have to give. My dear friend Mónica once asked, "Why do you think you got cancer?" Without thinking, I said, "To share." Exactly like I'm doing right now. This is about much more than work—it is about service. When we connect to the heartfelt service within us, giving and receiving can flow in a natural way. We must share what we know, what we're good at. Our life must have room for service. Paid or unpaid, it must come from the heart.

In the shamanic path, the effect has been radical for many of my patients. It surfaces the core story. Like Hakomi, it uses few but precise techniques to reveal and release what needs to be healed. Hakomi is a method created by Ron Kurtz 40 years ago. It uses small mindfulness experiments to uncover limiting beliefs and challenge them gently. If you say, "I have to do everything," I might say, "Go into mindfulness and notice what happens when you hear, "Now you can put yourself first." That's when memories come—like the grandmother saying, "You're the oldest, take care of your siblings." The tears come. And healing begins quickly.

In my shamanic path, we work with a wheel of healing—four archetypes. In the south, the Serpent teaches us to shed our past. In the west, the Jaguar walks between life and death, teaching peace and fearlessness as we let go of our drama stories, and thus cease to have enemies. In the north, the Hummingbird flies great distances, reminding us to follow our path despite obstacles. In the East, the Condor or Eagle flies high, offering vision, and invites us to return to the rising Sun, to Source.

The practice includes rituals to move stagnant energy. One key element is soul retrieval—when trauma causes part of the soul to leave, the shaman helps retrieve it. We examine what limiting contract was made, and then create a new agreement. I was drawn to this path because I missed connection to nature and ritual. I began with fire ceremonies among friends - the next step naturally showed up for me.

Thank you for listening. I'm here for anyone walking a difficult healing path. Healing is possible through many ways. Find what resonates with your spirit and your body.