That’s the intensity that comes to support us in releasing our need for control. Those are the times when we become able to let go–when life is too big or too hard or too impossible to fix on our own–so we let the Universe/Divine Mother/God/Community in to be part of the solution.
These are the sacred times when we are broken down just enough to be healed. It is in these experiences that all of the junk washes away and we are left with the truth of who we are–powerful, connected, passionate, loving, vulnerable, human beings–and from there… everything becomes possible.
Two weeks ago, a fox stepped out of the darkness and in front of my car on a lovely, winding road near our house. I hit the brakes and lost control of the car. It left the road, went over the edge, and fell out of sight. While flying down the hill approximately four feet off the ground, the top of the car (from the front bumper up past the sun roof) met with a very strong but perfectly forgiving tree, and the car came to rest, tires down, 20 feet down the hillside. There were many more feet of darkness left below us.
It was by far both the most traumatic and beautiful experience of my life. Since then, the children and I have been huddled together, in the loving arms of our community, healing mentally and physically. The fox made it. We made it. And all that’s left to do is learn every single thing we can from this life-changing experience.
For today, I have this: I am decidedly not in control of the fact that my beloved Volkswagen Jetta is now a paperweight. I cannot control the financial implications of the accident, the fact that I’m still in and out of a fog, or the gentleness with which my body demands to be treated as I heal. But this experience was intense enough to force me to let go and allow myself to be supported.
One friend loaned me a short-term car, another offered me one I can drive for a month or two, or until a new car makes its way into my life. A former client created a fund. People have donated, and also prayed for our healing. My mom picked us up that night, stayed over when the children were not comfortable with anyone driving anywhere, and filled our fridge and pantry with yummies.
A circle of soul sisters created space for me to process the experience, even though it’s impossibly hard to hear stories about children screaming and mothers being unable to keep cars from hurling themselves into the darkness.
My beloved wife (who is rocking law school 900 miles away) has been my rock, strong and stead, since I sat in the darkness and sent her those very first text messages.
Sweet baby, where are you?
I need to tell you something.
All three of us are ok but I wrecked the car trying not to hit a fox.
We are totally fine and safe.
A man stopped to help. No one else was involved. I was not speeding or texting.
I don’t need you to do anything.
I just wanted you to know.
My accident and the mess at the market are, somehow, strangely intertwined. In fact, everything is now. As I stumble through the telling of these stories–the learning and healing I’ve received from this experience–I hope that you’ll find something you’ve been looking for… something that will free you to live and embrace the truth of who you were born to be.
(Yes, with me it always comes back to that with me.)