A few nights ago, I slipped on our wet steps while removing a colorful rain boot and simultaneously leaning over to move a pair of shoes.  In an instant, I fell over and rolled down 4 steps, landing on concrete. Having tumbled down an entire staircase once before, at least 20 steep steps but probably more, I palpably recalled the sense of increasing velocity that occurs with each inch.  Fortunately, this time just 4 steps flew by till I thumped onto the concrete laying heavily on top of my left wrist.

Yes, it really hurt!  I felt in shock, but nothing was broken.

My husband gingerly helped me get up and into the house.  At the door, I boldly announced,  “My body is strong.  I can handle this.”

At the same time, I felt acutely reminded of life’s fragility.  Gratitude filled my being.  After all, I didn’t have a concussion or even a broken bone.

Nevertheless, as I sat on the bed trying to regain my bearings, my wrist throbbed and throbbed. I alternated calm with sobbing. My arms and hands shook and trembled from time-to-time.  I know the body releases trauma via these physical quakes so I felt confidence in its natural ability to care for itself.

I took an Ibuprofen for the pain, swallowed a sleep aid, and gently rubbed homeopathic Arnica cream on my left wrist and hand.  I then arranged my arm on a pillow to achieve the least degree of distress.  It took a little time for the pang to subside, but I managed to nod off and sleep well.

A Reminder to Love and Live Right Now

I know this is NOTHING, absolutely nothing compared to my friends who are recovering from cancer.  It’s nothing compared to the suffering of this world.

But I embrace it as a reminder to love and live right now.

I spend too much time in my head, deliberating my life purpose when it’s not that confusing or unclear.

• I write on this blog to help and encourage others and offer my course so they find more ease.
• I help people learn to meditate so they can be free from suffering and taste true happiness.
• I work on the land to honor all the sustenance she gives to us.
• I meditate to soften my own heart and to learn to live in the pure awareness of now.

I’m not ready to die.  I feel I have miles to go.  But I know what happens in the next moment is not within my control.

When it’s time to move on from this body, I know this life will be but a forgotten dream.  But the imprints of my habits will ride along with my most subtle awareness, dictating whatever comes next.

May I make more moments matter instead of reiterating the dysfunctional aspects of my personality.

May I relax and realize that everything is just fine, there’s no need to be tight.

May I let love be my guide and trust my sentinel as I slip into the the unknown, whether it’s the next moment or my final departure from this realm.

Epilogue

Over the 4 days following my fall, a bee stung me, a water pipe broke, and I managed to put the wrong type of fuel in my car.

These turned out to be powerful lessons when I slowed down and listened.  They especially showed me how I relate to emergencies - sometimes calmly and sometimes far less so.  The "far less so" encouraged me to look further into the source of my tears and fears.  Now I know I can take back my control.

Also, these challenges inspired me to delve into obstacles from a spiritual perspective, waking me up even more to what's truly important to me in this quickly passing life.

-o-

What wakes you up to the fragility and preciousness of this life?  I would love to hear.

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Be well.  Be happy.  Be safe.  With love, Sandra