I've been following the blog theminimalists
for over three years and yesterday’s post really struck a chord for me. Ryan Nicodemus wrote about a recent car accident
he and a friend had in Seattle (http://www.theminimalists.com/crash/).
They were sideswiped on a slushy and slippery highway and both cars
rolled. Thanks to their seatbelts - and other forces beyond our
understanding - they sustained only minor injuries but the experience made him
even more grateful for the time he is now enjoying post-crash. He describes this time - days, weeks,
hopefully many years - as bonus hours, and I think that is so perfect.
The phrase bonus hours gave me a beautiful label for the feelings I've had
twice over the past few months, after being in situations that were much more
dangerous than I realized, and coming through unharmed. First was an
ocean swimming experience at Cerritos Beach in Baja Mexico last November. I was attending a yoga fitness retreat and
having a marvelous time with our hosts, instructors, and fellow guests.
The Pacific on Baja's west coast is notoriously dangerous, but this was a
famous swimming and surfing beach and our group wanted to check it out. I am an experienced and confident swimmer and
went into the water twice. The first
time I enjoyed diving under and playing in the waves along with my friends who
were swimming, bodysurfing, and boogie boarding. Later several other women began surfing right
in front of where we were hanging out on the beach, so when I decided to go for
another swim I first walked down the beach to the left, and then went in. I like to get out just beyond where the waves
break and then float on my back, rocking up and down on the swells. That was going well, but as soon as I decided
to make my way back I saw that I'd drifted much further out than I realized -
it was different than the earlier swim, and I felt fear. I didn't know if the others in my group knew I
was out there, or if they could help me if they did. I also didn't know
that the water was guiding me toward underwater rocks. What I did know
I'd learned from my dad, who'd had his own and even more life-threatening
undertow experience in Florida years ago. I focused on swimming forward with each wave
as it moved toward shore, using its momentum even if I got a little crashed up
in the process, and not fighting against the water between waves. Gradually I made it to where I could touch,
and I emerged even further down the beach and significantly shaken.
The second experience was driving from Chicago back to Cincinnati in early
January, as the polar vortex was descending on the Midwest. I'd brought my son Alex back to Northwestern
and thank goodness we drove the 4WD Jeep Liberty and I didn't insist on driving
my Mini. I drove home on Sunday the 5th, leaving Evanston as heavy snow
fell, and soon was in whiteout conditions on the unplowed highway with cars off
the road and accidents everywhere. It
was truly white-knuckle driving where I dredged up any and all skills I had
from growing up and learning to drive in Fargo ND. Thanks to a Top of the
Chart radio station ("All the number one songs from the 70's and
80's!") and my book on tape, I stayed alert and extremely focused for
nearly seven hours without a stop - well, we all had to stop for about a half
hour on 65 north of Indy while a multi-vehicle accident was cleared, but no
potty or Starbucks breaks like usual. The truth is that the exits looked
so rutted and slippery that I didn't dare get off the highway. My strategy was
to fall into line behind a semi or tough-looking pickup truck or big SUV going
what I felt was an appropriate speed and follow in their tracks as smoothly and
calmly as possible. This didn't prevent my wheels from drifting scarily a
dozen times throughout the drive, though, and each time I just took a deep
breath, held on tight, stared straight ahead, eased the gas and willed the car
back on track. Past Indianapolis with
maybe 100 miles to go, the roads were clearer and I finally braved a gas
station stop. As I approached Cincinnati
I moved into a heavy rainstorm but that was a warm and welcome cakewalk
compared to what I'd been through.
I know these situations don't compare to the hardships that so many people face every day, and I also know that I inserted myself into them - I have no one to
blame but myself. My point is that they
serve as valuable reminders that each day is a gift, offering 24 more bonus hours, and
so I am grateful.
