Chapter 3 : The Rock
I have been standing on the precipice of change… right on the edge where I can balance on my heels and wiggle my toes. Almost ready to be big, almost ready to let go of fear. This time has felt very transitional, over-run by transitional tasks- moving, traveling, studying and lots of dog-walking. During each task, contemplating how I could create a community and a little bit broken by the pressure to decide what is next, as if I could know the limitlessness of the universe and be the one in full charge. I was occupying that place where you play with your ideas and desires like silly putty as you sit still. So, on this day, this beautiful day I thought would be a break from the weight of my client’s hearts and my own search for belonging, I was pushed right off that edge.
It was a gorgeous day with my family, one of those perfect collection of moments you get only every so often. I was told to pack a swimsuit, that there was a second location for our Sunday. We took a drive; my head leaning on the warm window glass, I was watching the leaves blend like watercolors as we zipped on by. We arrive at this space, a waterhole that feels like a secret. A few of the rocks ornamented by happy, relaxed people in colorful bathing suits. We decided to pick our spot and adventure through the shallow waters to take in the beauty. And then I was gone.
Ironically, one of the few confident steps I had taken in some time, and it landed me in the jaws of the rocks underneath. I take a breath and try and pull my leg out. My knee and ankle are in what feels like a bear trap. My family comes to me. One holding me in her arms as we assess the damage. We conclude nothing is broken… yet. We need help. The water is rising, and the sun is setting. The paramedics are called and strangers rush to offer help. Some are trying to will the rocks apart, others are offering tea, blankets, knit hats to keep the hypothermia away. Some offer their embrace, their hand to hold, or a voice when I was not being heard. I remember cracking jokes; I remember swearing at the paramedic… my apologies… I remember shivering… adjusting my upper half the best I could to be in the most pain free position. I remember holding a stranger’s hand and leaning full into his lap as I grimaced. But most of all I remember when it washed over me… I am not dying here; I am and always was meant to walk out of this.
The water is rushing, and the temperature is dropping, heat packs have not showed up quite yet and all the options sounded bad. But I knew… I did not know much else, I did not know in what condition I would leave, but I knew I was leaving, that whatever was next was big and cosmic. God and my angels swooped in to make sure the message was clear.
All that pondering of belonging and community, feeling wildly out of place to the point where breathing hurt, curated this exact incident. In an instant, I was surrounded by it. Community came to me. I did not make a splash or a sound, I was simply swallowed but they all still came, confidently and without hesitation. My leg remained in the belly of the earth for a rather dangerous hour, gifting me myself only when confident I would move forward, when I believed, when it was sure I knew what I was meant for. Since then, I have walked freely, bearing only a subtle scar, fueled by gratitude. By power. By confidence in how loved I am. This new knowledge soothed every scratch that has ever ailed me- even from the rocks themselves. A seemingly random moment felt pre-written. I was simultaneously reminded of how small I am and how very big, just by one gulp of a river that flows.