I write to you from my sweet leather couch holding my laptop and my cat, Midnight In Paris.
It's been months since I've written. Six weeks since I've blogged.
You see, I let commitments, events, projects, busyness, get the best of me. And by best of me, I mean all of me. And with those go-go-go moments, Mach 10 with my hair on fire, I knew I would eventually crash. And I did, literally.
To the confessional--
|Hi. I'm Kelli's van.|
I confess this is my van, which I totaled last Thursday. I rear-ended a huge metal truck because I took my eyes off the road for two seconds. That's it.
I was distracted and I looked down and accelerated into a huge truck that was stopped. It was like driving into a brick wall. Airbags deployed. Medic, police, and the fire dept. arrived and I was whisked away in an ambulance to the ER wearing a C-collar and completely woozy and struggling to breathe normally. Good times.
I confess it scares me how quickly a life can change.
And I confess, I had heard about Bruce Jenner's car accident and had said, "I bet he was texting! I bet he was googling himself!" -- Karma.
I was not texting or talking on the phone or putting on lipstick. I looked down for two seconds and slammed into truck.
What I have noticed about myself is in the last six weeks is that I have been doing too much. I've been saying yes to things, squeezing other things in, running in second gear. I have been a sidetracked, multitasking, too-much-on-my-plate, overwhelmed American woman/mother/poet/editor/writer.
I've been saying, "It's got to slow down soon."
And I knew I was going to crash, but I didn't think in this way. (I was thinking a little more metaphorically.)
When my nurse was giving me pain medication, she said to me, "Consider this your assigned vacation."
Since last Thursday I have been on the couch or in my bed. One day I tried to go out for a ride, to look at a beach house, I took my pain medicine and off I went--the next day, I felt terrible and slept for 18 hours. Too much.
For some reason, I seem to think I'm invincible. I push myself a lot. I ride my mountain bike like I'm a fifteen year old, sometimes like a female Evil Kneivel trying to ride across logs, fly over jumps as if I'm unbreakable. Sometimes I paddle out in Puget Sound without my life jacket. Though I do not consider myself a risk-taker, I usually know how far my body can go, but I think I need to take a few moments to consider my body and my life and how far I can push them both.
The thing is, when your mind is not engaged in the moment, you are screwed.
No matter what you're doing--talking with a friend, driving a car, riding a bike, doing a task. I realize for the last couple months, I haven't been in the moment, in fact, I've been wanting the moment over, wanting to be done with being so busy. I keep looking ahead--oh, I won't be busy *then* - in a few weeks, I'll have an open calendar. Then it fills up. I kept wanting to do less.
And now, ironically, I am. I am sitting on the couch taking naps. I am watching Iron Man, Guardians of the Galaxy, Midnight in Paris, and The Avengers for the umpteenth time. I am resting.
I am taking long baths with books of poetry.
I am seeing friends I haven't seen in while because they've arrived with treats for me and dinners.
I am doing what I should have been doing all along except I wasn't.
It's funny when the universe gives you a cosmic stage direction-- Kelli, you weren't supposed be over there, but over HERE. Living mindfully and deliberately. Enjoying a simple life. Writing. Having downtime and friendships. Enjoying your family and your life.
I am still healing. My head is a little funky, my shoulderblades, a little achy, and still a few tweaks in me, but I feel myself getting better. It could have been a lot worse. Much worse, and I know that. Deeply.
So my guardian angels were working overtime that day and I thank them.
And Universe, your message was received loud and clear as well. I'm listening.
Slowing down, friends. Slowing down.
Want more on creativity and the literary life? -- Subscribe by Email