The Architecture of the Present
I couldn't even think. Mary-Laurence was on the other end of the phone, trying to be strong for me, but I knew she was having just as much trouble as I was.
The first stages of the psychology of it all went by real fast... denial, anger... and then I landed *splat* in the middle of shock. Somehow, I was able to have an entire phone conversation without losing it, so I hung up and just stood there. I knew only the pertinent information. As soon as the words, "Blake was in an accident," escaped my mouth, I was in a pile against my mother.
They're the kind of stories you hear about, not the ones that you think are going to personally affect you. And truthfully, I don't know how I would have been affected had it been somebody else in my social group. But this was Blake, one of my best friends in the world. He had a rock climbing accident. He and I had climbed together for months before I left Boulder, and I witnessed his excellent decision-making skills about climbing safety enough times to have as much faith as one can possibly have in their climbing partner. Yet rock climbing is still an extreme sport. And that fact is often forgotten until nothing but sheer chance almost kills your best friend.
The guys had done everything they typically would have done to avoid danger on that oh-so-typical day. The universe seemed to have other plans.
Blake ended up with a smashed jaw, a humerus broken in half, some broken vertebrae and fractures in his pelvis and sacrum. Mike sustained vertebrae damage and a broken pelvis as well. Somehow, both had only minimal tissue damage and no nerve or spinal damage at all. Mike had been climbing, and had weighted the climbing gear, a perfectly routine safety check. His equipment didn't hold, causing him to fall first and then pull Blake, his belayer, down 70 feet with him. I'm reminded of a quote by Richard Bach, "Here is the test to find whether your mission on Earth is finished. If you're alive, it isn't."
My instantaneous reaction to the news was feeling that I needed to go to Boulder. 48 hours later, I was allowed to talk with Blake on the phone; his spirits were higher than I expected, but he was definitely a mess. That night, I booked a flight and then spent a week in Colorado, watching and helping when I could while they transitioned from rehab in the hospital to home. (I managed to miss all the yucky surgery stuff.) At first, I second-guessed myself when I got there. Do I really need to be here? I almost passed out upon setting eyes on Blake, who rolled out in a wheelchair with his jaw wired shut and a neck brace supporting his head. That was when I decided that yes, there was some reason that I felt pulled to come, and there was some good I was doing whether I knew it or not.
The accident happened on the same day that I had received an offer for my job at the rock gym to be extended to a permanent, full-time position. I wasn't sure whether I wanted it or not, as I'm still figuring out my own mission on Earth, and I know that sometime in the future, I will move out of RI and not look back. I wondered whether Blake's accident and the pull to go to Colorado was a sign that now was the time to move on.
During the week before and the week of being in Boulder, I wrestled with what to do. I thought of every possibility, assessing its worth and projected outcome, analyzing what the universe was trying to tell me. Not only was I in direct conflict with my values about money and happiness, I also felt like the subliminal messages were in conflict. My gut feelings were all screaming at me to go back to Boulder, while more tangible signs concerning my finances were all in opposition. In the end, I decided that the best thing to do would be to ground myself, and stay in RI while I regained some spiritual, intuitive, and financial composure. "Good girl," Blake's mom said to me when I announced my decision on Saturday morning. That gave me a little hope that I had veered in a productive direction.
Right now, the guys are both home and recovering, two weeks after their accident. Blake and I were able to see each other all but one day last week, and he gets better and better every day. While I am slightly upset that I'm unable to be of physical help due to the 2,000 miles between us, I'm comforted knowing that he has so many supportive friends he can lean on as he recovers.
Blake wrote a blog the other day that describes how he wakes up every morning and the reality of his accident occurs to him all over again. It hasn't all sunk in yet, it hasn't become "normal" for him to be in a state of repair. That sort of struck me, as I realized that on a spiritual level, that's exactly how I've been feeling all summer. I keep waking up, expecting to be whole and realizing that I'm in the middle of deconstructing and rebuilding the foundation of my life. It seems that I've been knocked down in order to rework it, so I can build something even better and more fulfilling than I could have thought possible.
"Every person, all the events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you." -Richard Bach
"...it is steep, it is stone/such recovery/from the daily press, the deepest nest, in keeper's keep..." -Bon Iver
The first stages of the psychology of it all went by real fast... denial, anger... and then I landed *splat* in the middle of shock. Somehow, I was able to have an entire phone conversation without losing it, so I hung up and just stood there. I knew only the pertinent information. As soon as the words, "Blake was in an accident," escaped my mouth, I was in a pile against my mother.
They're the kind of stories you hear about, not the ones that you think are going to personally affect you. And truthfully, I don't know how I would have been affected had it been somebody else in my social group. But this was Blake, one of my best friends in the world. He had a rock climbing accident. He and I had climbed together for months before I left Boulder, and I witnessed his excellent decision-making skills about climbing safety enough times to have as much faith as one can possibly have in their climbing partner. Yet rock climbing is still an extreme sport. And that fact is often forgotten until nothing but sheer chance almost kills your best friend.
The guys had done everything they typically would have done to avoid danger on that oh-so-typical day. The universe seemed to have other plans.
Blake ended up with a smashed jaw, a humerus broken in half, some broken vertebrae and fractures in his pelvis and sacrum. Mike sustained vertebrae damage and a broken pelvis as well. Somehow, both had only minimal tissue damage and no nerve or spinal damage at all. Mike had been climbing, and had weighted the climbing gear, a perfectly routine safety check. His equipment didn't hold, causing him to fall first and then pull Blake, his belayer, down 70 feet with him. I'm reminded of a quote by Richard Bach, "Here is the test to find whether your mission on Earth is finished. If you're alive, it isn't."
My instantaneous reaction to the news was feeling that I needed to go to Boulder. 48 hours later, I was allowed to talk with Blake on the phone; his spirits were higher than I expected, but he was definitely a mess. That night, I booked a flight and then spent a week in Colorado, watching and helping when I could while they transitioned from rehab in the hospital to home. (I managed to miss all the yucky surgery stuff.) At first, I second-guessed myself when I got there. Do I really need to be here? I almost passed out upon setting eyes on Blake, who rolled out in a wheelchair with his jaw wired shut and a neck brace supporting his head. That was when I decided that yes, there was some reason that I felt pulled to come, and there was some good I was doing whether I knew it or not.
The accident happened on the same day that I had received an offer for my job at the rock gym to be extended to a permanent, full-time position. I wasn't sure whether I wanted it or not, as I'm still figuring out my own mission on Earth, and I know that sometime in the future, I will move out of RI and not look back. I wondered whether Blake's accident and the pull to go to Colorado was a sign that now was the time to move on.
During the week before and the week of being in Boulder, I wrestled with what to do. I thought of every possibility, assessing its worth and projected outcome, analyzing what the universe was trying to tell me. Not only was I in direct conflict with my values about money and happiness, I also felt like the subliminal messages were in conflict. My gut feelings were all screaming at me to go back to Boulder, while more tangible signs concerning my finances were all in opposition. In the end, I decided that the best thing to do would be to ground myself, and stay in RI while I regained some spiritual, intuitive, and financial composure. "Good girl," Blake's mom said to me when I announced my decision on Saturday morning. That gave me a little hope that I had veered in a productive direction.
Right now, the guys are both home and recovering, two weeks after their accident. Blake and I were able to see each other all but one day last week, and he gets better and better every day. While I am slightly upset that I'm unable to be of physical help due to the 2,000 miles between us, I'm comforted knowing that he has so many supportive friends he can lean on as he recovers.
Blake wrote a blog the other day that describes how he wakes up every morning and the reality of his accident occurs to him all over again. It hasn't all sunk in yet, it hasn't become "normal" for him to be in a state of repair. That sort of struck me, as I realized that on a spiritual level, that's exactly how I've been feeling all summer. I keep waking up, expecting to be whole and realizing that I'm in the middle of deconstructing and rebuilding the foundation of my life. It seems that I've been knocked down in order to rework it, so I can build something even better and more fulfilling than I could have thought possible.
"Every person, all the events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you." -Richard Bach
"...it is steep, it is stone/such recovery/from the daily press, the deepest nest, in keeper's keep..." -Bon Iver
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