Precious, Precious Life

About a week ago, I had a bike accident, hitting my head, scraping the left side of my body, and landing myself a visit to the ER.

In the moments after I fell, I remember not knowing what was going to happen to me, for my vision was blurred.? I had a huge bump on my head and saw blood on me, but couldn?t tell what was bleeding.? Was I going to be able to see clearly again?? Was my body still in tact?? I didn?t know if I was going to be okay.? I felt a tremendous pain all over.? My body was in shock from the trauma of the impact.? All of me was trembling.

In the midst of this, I also felt extremely grateful for my precious, precious life?in those moments, nothing was more important than taking care of my body and ensuring my safety.? I experienced how fragile human life is, and the potential for life to be threatened or taken away in the most unexpected moment.? All I wanted was to be okay, to know I would have my life back.

In all that followed, I relied on the kindness and support of those around me.? Luckily, a car was driving on the trail where I had fallen only minutes after my fall and brought me to a friend?s house.? There, my friend called 911 since I still couldn?t see clearly, in case I had a head injury.? The paramedics arrived, did some tests, strapped me to a gurney, and drove me to the ER for some more tests.? The adventure had begun.

Everything happened quickly and slowly at the same time?in time, yet somehow out of time.? When life and health are revealed moment by moment, there?s a different quality to living?perhaps because how incredibly much life matters is in the forefront; perhaps because all I am and all I love is on the line.? There is nothing casual about a life-threatening emergency.? There is no space to take life for granted when you are being driven to the ER.

While in the ambulance, my vision restored and something in me relaxed as I felt a trust that everything would be okay.? A wave of tenderness rushed over me, blurring my vision again, now with tears.? I gave thanks for my life and let every drop of salty tear-water speak to how much I love life.? It was undeniable.? It was all there was of me?a tender, slightly broken body, a shakiness, and gratitude for the gift of life, pain and all.? I offered my tears to the sterile, stainless steel floor of the ambulance, feeling extremely supported and cared for by the paramedics and the universe.

My best friend Jen spent the rest of the day with me in the hospital, and we had a blast, enjoying every drop of this precious life, together.? In between doctor checks, x-rays, and CAT scans to make sure nothing in my body was broken or out of place, we made jokes, sung songs, and did a photo shoot of me in my neck brace.? Jen helped me pee in a bedpan as we giggled like crazy, enjoying the unexpected adventure of the day as best we could.? We stirred up a raucous in the ER?all the nurses and doctors were smiling, laughing, and making jokes with us.?

We weren?t denying the pain or seriousness of the situation, but rather, bringing the medicine of laughter right into the aches and wounds.? By the time we left the hospital in the evening when all the test results had cleared, we had made friends with the staff and hugged goodbye after what had become and uplifting and precious day in my precious life.

In the course of an afternoon, I must have interacted with at least 20 different hospital staff.? Some of these people I only spent minutes with, yet in such a state of vulnerability and need, I felt how meaningful our interactions were, how important their work was, and the power of their kindness in these tender moments.? Every blanket put on me, x-ray button pressed, and voice giving me instruction was an essential part of my healing.? I truly felt the difference made by each person, each role, every moment of help offered.? I am amazed that I live in a world where I can be cared for like this when I am hurt, where each person’s unique medicine is needed.

In the book Secrets of the Talking Jaguar, Martin Prechtel recounts a story where he nearly dies after falling off a cliff.? Entering ?the other world? of death, he experienced a vast space with the quality of honey, merging into the unknown mystery of death until he felt a call from his future children and his body to come back to life.? Slowly pulled back into the density and heaviness of his body, Prechtel knew he was alive again because he could feel the immense pain of his broken body:

?I knew that this suffering, this nausea, this painful breathing, these broken ribs, this nausea, this fever-tortured body, this foul-smelling breath, and this desperate uncertainty were the unmistakable signs of the blessing of being alive.? The ?other world? had shown me that there was a spiritual payment for the privilege to suffer.? Suffering was not the price of living, but part of the gift of being alive.? Not a big deal, but part of the deal.?

In the moments right after my fall and in the pain and discomfort I experienced while my wounds were healing, Martin Prechtel?s message stayed with me.? I let my pain remind me of the blessing of being alive.? It didn?t make my aches any less achy or my pain any less painful, but it softened and opened me in the midst of suffering to the tremendous, undeniable miracle of life.? All of life.? Pain, too.

Now near the end of the healing phase, my medicine has been patience.? Slowing down.? Doing nothing.? Receiving.? Being taken care of.? Letting my body ache.? Letting the inner and outer heaviness be heavy.? Sinking, collapsing, and rejoicing at being alive, all at once.?

I am astonished by the intelligence of my body to heal itself and am so, so grateful for the care of my best friend, Jen, and my housemate, Emily in this process.?

Recently, I dreamt I was explaining to a mother why she should let her daughter play outside with me, though she was worried for her daughter and afraid of the dangers.? As I spoke in the dream, I felt the incredible blessing of being alive rushing through my body, seeing clearly that life is worth living fully, dangers and all.? Because what would be the use of keeping children?and ourselves?safe from the dangers of the world at the cost of holding back from experiencing life fully??

Looking back, I felt fully alive as the wind blew against my face, my heart beat wildly inside my chest, and beads of sweat scattered across my forehead as I biked into danger that day–it doesn’t mean that it was worth it, just that I acknowledge that I am living life fully. I?ve learned that life is too precious not to break and fall, whether with my body, heart, or spirit.? Any holding back in the name of safety may keep me in tact on the surface, but is much more painful in the long run than a couple scrapes and heartbreaks.

Though my journey of recovery has not been easy, it has connected me even deeper with a simple truth: life is precious.? This truth, the support I feel around me, and the giggles in the ER are what I will carry with me as the scabs fall off, and what I will remember.?