A Gratitude for Falling

The moment of falling is blank. There is no recollection of the sensation of falling. Just the rapid fire thought that I am suddenly suspended in the air. I am working against gravity and am hurling through space. The impact of landing jolts me into a different state of awareness. I am now grounded. Literally.

It was my first bike accident in 20 years.

I was riding to my Wednesday job - sewing for Gaia Conceptions located in the Fisher Park region of Greensboro. It's a nice ride typically. I follow neighborhood streets to the Lake Daniel and Latham Park Greenways. I don't encounter a significant amount of traffic on this route. And the ride along the Greenways is lovely and enjoyable.

I have been riding my bicycle to work for the past two weeks. I used to do this years ago - when I was 20 and didn't have a car. But the process was interrupted when I purchased a car - a 1972 yellow Super Beetle, bought exclusively for the purpose of being able to drive to Atlanta to see The Clash. I learned to drive a standard shift in a day and tested my abilities on the way to The Fox.

Ah. The Clash.

Due to recent circumstances, I am again riding my bicycle to work. At first I was incredibly anxious about doing this. My housemate was hit by a car twice in one week on his bicycle. My friend Sam was hit so hard by a car that he flew into the air, landed on the windshield of the car that hit him and the windshield shattered. Bike accidents happen. Especially in this town. But after a couple of test rides, my confidence in my ability to stay upright on two wheels was renewed.

The bicycle I currently ride was donated by a good friend, Steve Newton. I call him Dr. Newton. I'm not sure why. The bike donated by Dr. Newton is a Trek mountain bike. I know nothing about mountain biking. I just like the substantial weight of it as opposed to my lightweight Peugeot road bike.

Because I am riding a mountain bike, I am less afraid of riding over pot holes, bumps, cracks and other obstacles that plague the city roads. My road bike doesn't like them so well. The mountain bike can handle them no problem.

Hey Bart Trotman, if you're reading this, Jairus hasn't taken the Peugeot. If you need/want it, you can have it back.

So I was riding to work today, thinking of absolutely everything at once. Medical bills. Lawyer fees. Department of Motor Vehicle fees. Court fees. Grocery fees. Potential brief trip to the beach fees. The cost of working a low wage job. The question of how to move beyond working a low wage job while keeping my health insurance. Creatures of grace and beauty saturated, weighted down by oil. Thanks to greed. History repeating itself.

Basically, I was obsessing about money. And time. Because I was running late. So when I came to a curb which I must climb in order to reach a short patch of sidewalk that leads to the Greenway, I thought, I'll do this differently today. I ordinarily negotiate by dismounting and walking my bike up the curb and onto the sidewalk. Today, I thought, I'm on a mountain bike. Let's just see if I can ride over the curb.

I couldn't.

It looks so easy when other people do it. I guess there's more skill involved than meets the eye because I totally wiped out. Landed on my elbow. Got a bit of road rash on my leg. Hurt my pride. Busted my water bottle. Everything in my backpack got wet. I'm lucky that's all that happened to me.

When the awareness of the incident sunk in, when I noticed the blood on my elbow and hand, when the stinging pain overtook the dull befuddled mind, I began to cry. Uncontrollably.

So there I was, sitting in the grass by the side of the street, crying. Emptying my bag of all the water, shaking out the contents. I dabbed at my wound with my sweatshirt jacket - the only material at hand to use. I delicately pried the grass out of the torn flesh while shooing gnats away from it. I cried and tried to decide whether to retreat home or march forward into battle. The battle? Go to work.

I called my sister, Rebecca. I call her Boot Camp Becky for her almost militaristic pep talks, lectures, admonitions, and so on. She gave me her version of the old pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps speech. Which was exactly what I needed. Sometimes, I need someone else to motivate me to do the things that need to be done.

So I rode on to work. Andrea helped me clean myself up. She bandaged my elbow. And I did my work.

My bicycle ride home was without incident, thankfully.

My mind felt dull, my body weary this afternoon. I slept for a while. And when I awoke, I realized my body needs to heal. Not just from this accident. But it's been through a lot over the past few years. I need to treat it with respect and gratitude. And I need to recognize that I am nearly 50. Not 15. And that is ok. I don't need to be able to do stunts. But beyond all of this, I do not need to obsessively dwell on unhappy issues that weigh me down, bog down my brain, cause me to be less mindful of my walk - or ride - through this world.

It is true, the things the wise people say. The present moment is the only moment. Live it fully. I'm convinced that accidents such as my fall today occur to snap me into the reality of the present moment. And it is because of this that I am grateful for the fall.