My Way

One of the most powerful and profound outcomes of my accident is that I can no longer move fast. My cognitive ability is unimpaired with the exception of occasional brain fog that I attribute to my traumatic brain injury. My physical ability, my speed in all activities, however, is permanently stuck in first gear. SLOW!

Sloth like, and necessarily so. If I move suddenly, such as by changing direction, I risk losing my balance and falling. I used to laugh at those commercials for alert necklaces, where an elderly person falls and can’t get up. Yeah, I was an insensitive kid, but I’m here to tell you that falling is no joke! Especially now that I’m older and my mobility is greatly diminished.

Don’t laugh at old people. Growing old is not for wimps.

I’ve fallen twice since the doctor and my PT agreed to rescind my bed rest order, which lasted for six months post-accident. Six months on my back sapped my strength. Each time I fell, I broke something. The first time, I broke my clavicle and one of the little orthopedic implants holding my left wrist together. The second time, I broke my right humerus near the elbow.

Both times, I needed help getting back on my feet. I had practiced getting up from the floor during PT sessions, but I mysteriously lacked strength after those falls. Getting up from the floor is called a floor transfer. It’s a considerable process with only one arm and limited flexibility.

Fun stuff!

But I needed help. I have since practiced floor transfers on my own.

Aw, hell! I’ve wandered from the path of my point.

Being a sloth.

I’m careful with how I move now, and it has impacted how I think. Slow motion isn’t just for visual effects.

I slow my thinking, deliberately. I picture a sloth and find fulfillment in the image of moving and thinking slowly.

By slow thinking I don’t mean like I’m mentally impaired. No no…I can process like nobody’s business! My thinking is meditative. Any moment is a fresh moment and in the NOW. a blank canvas or instance of silence, that vacuum that nature abhors.

and something comes to me. Sometimes profound, often mundane, but always in slow motion.

It’s ironic that I’m grateful for my disability. It’s evidence that I was on the wrong path. I lived for the physical. The spiritual didn’t matter.

Things have changed. I used to live in doubt. I feared death…

Now that I’ve died, it doesn’t bother me anymore. I’m back with purpose.

I thought I was living with purpose before. I was woefully wrong. It’s not to run a bazillion miles. It’s not to make fistfuls of cash. My purpose is to share my story and my imagination to the best of my ability.

And spread peace where chaos resides; love where there’s hate; forgiveness where there’s injury; faith where there’s doubt; hope where there’s despair; light where there’s darkness; joy where there’s sorrow…

Y’know, the basic stuff. Maybe it’s a tall order, but living and thinking slowly goes a long way for me.

And walking with gratitude and grace in every step I take.

In a world filled with division, distraction, despair, and doubt, a little bit of love and focus goes a long way.

My way is my way. My path. We all must find our own path through life, but there is more than just the material. Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Be grateful.