Defining Moments

In my Life Strategy Design sessions, we call them milestones -- where you place a marker that indicates there was a before and an after. As I sip coffee from a mug that reads I am a ray of f*cking sunshine, I am viscerally aware that my defining moment this week was more than a mile marker. It was a record scratch moment in time that has already started to shift my future.

On Saturday, I came 15 inches from certain death. I just came down from the adrenaline high on Tuesday.

I was on my way to launch Crazy, as Usual in Estes Park, stopping in Denver at a business expo that my friend Eava Currence invited me to attend. To prime my brain for learning, I was listening the The Buddha and the Badass, The Secret Spiritual Art of Succeeding at Work, by Vishen Lakhiani , after weeks of letting the monkeys poop all over the living room of my thoughts, feeling misunderstood, left out and unimportant. About the time I rounded the exit from I25 to I225, Vishen said something remarkable that goes something like this:

If you are stuck ruminating about your problems, your problems are not big enough.

This was an important moment for me as I considered giving up, going under, getting a decent-paying job, and considering this book thing a nice check-the-box event in my life. Then my problems got bigger. As I moved into the left lane of I225, getting ready to exit onto I70 West toward Denver, I felt a spray of what felt like sand in my face and heard the sound of rushing wind coming through a gaping hole in my windshield.

Miraculously maintaining my 65 m.p.h. speed in the fast lane, I quickly surmised the spray of sand was glass from the impact of something about the size of a human head 15 inches to my right. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see blood streaming down my face. Indeed my problems had changed.

Still in the fast lane, I voice commanded Siri to call my husband. On the second try, he picked up, "Hey, honey."

"Hey. Um. Something just crashed through my windshield. I'm gonna need you to come pick me up in Denver."

"Wait. What? A bird hit your windshield?"

"No, something came through my windshield. I don't know what. I'm pulling over."

"YOU'RE STILL DRIVING?!!!"

"Well, yeah, I was in the fast lane. Still in the fast lane. Hang on. Let me pull off."

An extraordinary adrenaline rush of peace that surpasses understanding kept me focused until I could bring my car to a halt. When I realized I was right in front of the hotel where the business expo was, I pulled into the parking lot with my bloody face and gaping hole in the windshield. I got out of the car and opened the hatchback.

"It's a rock. A really big rock." I took a picture and texted him.

"That's not a rock. That's a boulder." It turned out to be a 9 pound chunk of concrete that crashed through the passenger side windshield, bent the passenger headrest back, tore a hole in the headliner, bounced off the back seat, and then the hatchback before coming to rest inches from the hatch. Had there been a passenger in the car, they would be with Jesus right now. Had the chunk of concrete hit 15 inches to the left, I would be with Jesus right now.

That was the moment that I realized it was a miracle that I was alive, a miracle there was no passenger in the car, and a miracle that I was able to steer to safety. You might expect someone to go into shock at that point, but I was enjoying the beauty and serenity of knowing I'm not done on this earth yet.

The police report is not out yet, so we don't yet know if this concrete had fallen from a decaying bridge or off a truck. If we don't have any witnesses, we may never know. If you know someone who witnessed this, have them call me, but here's how I've been processing this defining moment. It comes full circle back to a passage from George Bernard Shaw that now has new meaning for me.

“This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. Being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.”        

My torch almost went out, but it didn't. My candle is still burning.

I rejoice in life for it's own sake. Colors are more vivid. Food tastes better. The rhythm of the dog's breath against me reminds me ...

I'm a force of nature, a mighty one. How will I wield the torch?

And what will I do with this renewed opportunity to set free the captives of burnout, depression, and anxiety? If you would like to light the torch in your workplace or at your next event, talk to me about speaking opportunities.