![]() _______________________________________________________________________________________________ At the end of December, a few friends and I headed out to the Sooke Hills to hike Mt. Braeden. We were prepared for a six hour hike, including a few breaks. We all piled in one car and headed out around 8:15am on a Saturday. When we arrived in the parking lot, it was raining lightly . We decided to take the steep way up and loop down the less steep and more scenic route. By the time we got up to the top, the wind was howling. It was the kind of wind that pushes you around a little, and feels like it could knock you off your feet if you're not alert. The weather cleared enough at moments that we caught some great views of the surrounding hills, the Juan de Fuca strait & Port Angeles mountains. Just before the summit we found a little sheltered nook to stop and have a snack. It was quite spectacular to be up at the top of the mountain and watch the clouds whipping by. We continued up over the top of the mountain and were about an hour into our dissent when I lost my footing and fell. There were four of us women and I'm pretty sure I had just turned back to answer or respond to something, while I continue to step forward. Before I knew it, I'd lost my footing and must have reached out my left hand to brace my fall. My hand hit the side of the mountain really hard! I landed on my butt in the middle of the trail, which was more of a stream at that point. I couldn't move for a minute or two, so my but was getting soaked. When I did, I had to sit squatting to try to get some ground. I asked my companions to give me a bit of space. When I got my bearings enough to look at my hand and wrist, a tsunami of feelings erupted. it was not good news! My wrist was bent at an unnatural angle. In that moment of recognition that this was not a simple sprain, the repercussions hit. The sensations, the thoughts & emotions and images spun through my mind so quickly, I had no ability to integrate all that was churned up. When I stood up, I felt overwhelmingly nauseous. My friends were so present and supportive. One of them looked me in the eye, and said "damn". It was the perfect response! I repeated it back to her, and then we both repeated it a few times. "Damn". This was not what I had in mind! All my best laid plans… What was going to happen to my trip to Costa Rica next month? My teaching career? My ability to drive and get where I need to go? But just having the feeling recognized & mirrored back was a solace… it helped to cuss & swear & express some verbal protest, & then even laugh a little, because truly -what else are you going to do?! We sorted ourselves out and everybody took something to help me out. One friend took my water bottles, the other, my backpack, etc. Mercifully & so lucky for me, Marina had a first aid kit with her & got the sling out & set me up with that. We still had two hours to hike back to the car, so that was a godsend. Initially, the pain had been overwhelmingly intense. And then adrenaline took over and that lasted for a good half hour. So during the hardest part of the hike I was relieved of that intense pain. Once we got on a bit more even ground, I was offered a walking stick, which helped more than I realized it would. I'd lost some of my confidence after the fall. I remember looking at another friend as we continued to descend on the trail, and saying "this isn't what I had in mind….'. 'But I guess Life knows best". I'm still unpacking what I was expressing there. A certain level of acceptance & trust in life. There's a metta phrase I use & offer often in my classes, which is "May I trust the mysterious unfolding of my life." One way I interpret this phrase is - "May I trust that whatever unfolds, whatever happens, is for me, not against me." "May I accept what unfolds as offering something that I need." I've been faced with a few unexpected challenges this year, and in both of these circumstances, I leaned into this trust. I feel enormous gratitude for the path of yoga and all the teachers along the way, and my years of practice for the ability to make a conscious choice to orient in this way. I will do everything possible to improve the situation, but fighting it, or complaining about the reality of what is happening won't serve me or anyone else. Nothing can take back the moment of inattention that caused me to loose my footing, and the resulting fall and consequential wrist fracture and dislocation. Nothing I thought or did last spring could change the fact that the lump I discovered in my breast was malignant. Here again was an opportunity to open to the moment as it was, as much as it was not what I wanted. Having chosen that orientation allowed me to focus on breathing, and taking things one moment at a time. There was incredible pain in my wrist, but I had to fully focus on the task at hand.... navigating the trail for the next two hours, which was still steep in parts, and miraculously, I fully enjoyed the rest of the hike out. I felt the pain, I breathed, and although I had to focus most of my attention on my footing, I could also enjoy the banter among us, the air & the trees. I also feel so much gratitude for the women I was hiking with - for their presence and care, their grace, good humour, and generosity. There's a lot more to the story, which I'll leave for another time, but just to mention that there is a time & place to allow all the emotions that come with injury, a serious diagnosis, an accident or any unexpected & traumatic event. I have since moved through emotions of disappointment, sadness & grief. And there may be more to come. But what I want to talk about here is "the lesson". A dear friend asked me recently what I thought the lesson was in this experience. Even though I think this way, there was something about her asking me that didn't sit right with me. That might be a subject for another blog post! However, today I reflected on the question, and what came to me feels very profound. I'll preface my insight about this by saying that two weeks after having my bone reset, and being in a cast, I had surgery. And yesterday after another two weeks, I had that post-surgery half-cast removed. When the cast was removed and I saw my arm for the first time in a month, it was a bit of a shock. After being bound up, immobilized & covered up for 4 weeks, the muscle tone was completely gone, the skin was pealing & almost translucent. And the 3 inch scar still healing! It felt so vulnerable to have the cast off. So even though I couldn't wait to have it removed, suddenly it was too much too fast! I felt so vulnerable. And to suddenly have this weak & vulnerable appendage free to roam around in space felt a little dangerous. So to get back to my realization this morning when I contemplated the question about "what was the lesson?”, this is what came to me: First, that this is, maybe more accurately, an opportunity rather than a lesson. And that opportunity is for me to turn toward that part of myself - the wounded, vulnerable, weak, fragile, tender part of myself; the part that is damaged, dislocated, maybe disconnected; the fractured part of myself. To turn toward the yin, feminine side - my “non-dominant" left side…. to turn toward those parts damaged through childhood wounds, through adolescent wounds, through sexual wounds, through patriarchal wounds in this lifetime, and perhaps many other lifetimes... to turn toward those parts, rather than turn away. Rather than minimize, dismiss, deny, devalue those parts, to fully love them. To accept and embrace them, and welcome them fully into the fold. And perhaps I could love them with the same fierce mama-bear love that I extend to others. So, “what is the lesson in this experience?”. Perhaps a more attuned inquiry is, “Are you in a place to consider whether there is an opportunity in this experience?” . Yes. And at this moment, I'm holding this as an opportunity to finally turn toward & fully embrace my own woundedness & brokenness .
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February 2025
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