A Hard Fall’s Gonna Reign

by Nancy Grayum

During the preface to my morning commute, I leash my sweet black lab, inviting her down the walk where we’re greeted by mid-morning traffic under the drizzly June skies of the Pacific Northwest. My mind is full of the do-do list as I walk briskly, watching for the dog’s doo-doo. I’m reviewing requests at work, anti-war activities, environmental protection committee frustrations, mowing the lawn, the fund-raiser for our presidential candidate, the grocery list, an upcoming garage sale, a possible visit to my parents.  My mind spins and spirals, my inner voice resounding the endless requests for my time, my energy, my money, my thoughts, my skills, and yes, my opinion.

 Suddenly the sidewalk is rushing toward my face after my boot snags a rough break in the concrete. My nose and glasses hit first, as I throw my hands outward instead of breaking the fall. A recent tumble at the bus station injured a hand so badly it doesn’t want to go there again. My dog stands over me helplessly cocking her head in concern as passing drivers ignore my predicament.  It hurts.  My glasses frames are crushed, my nose is bleeding and my forehead is scraped.

This is the third time I’ve fallen on my face in the past three months.  The first time, my dog and I were walking in a city park where, tripping over a hidden snag, I pulled a hamstring and landed in blackberry bushes. The second fall was worse: running to catch a bus, I tripped over a curb, suffering a brief blackout and concussion as I conked my forehead on the concrete, and injuring tendons in my hand as it broke my fall in a bent-under position.

I finally perceive the message: I’m not living in the moment. Presently I struggle to my hands and knees, dumbly gazing at the stony courier, and finally I stand, assuming a newly humble posture.

Walking blindly back home, I see clearly that it’s time to disengage. I clean my face gently with warm water, find my spare glasses and settle in my soft recliner, rocking quietly as I let my mind clear. I call in sick, and spend the next several hours letting go. I resign immediately from my leadership in the environmental group and unsubscribe from dozens of email groups with their urgent daily messages. My work in the peace movement becomes internal, coming from the heart, where peace begins. On the job I now attend to the task at hand and stop overlapping my workdays with community activities. I take actual breaks, sitting calmly outdoors or in the library. The candidates do whatever they do without me. I have a giveaway instead of a garage sale. I pay a kid to mow the lawn. I visit my parents. I go to bed by 9 pm on weekdays, and on weekends, I sleep in and adopt the practice of serious napping. Serenity visits me in nourishing moments, and I recover from the hard knocks, always remembering the message.

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Practice ~ January 5, 2012

Write the scene where you make a life-changing decision. (~500 words)