My life 'changed' when I broke my neck.
We need to use the word 'change' very consciously. Because things are always changing. Cells are dying and being reborn. Time is passing. You're getting older.
What changed when I broke my neck, was that I decided to redirect my focus. I became very aware of my own mortality, and as such, decided to focus on what mattered more.
Before, life had been a future-paced affair, most of the present frittered away in seeking pleasure or distracting myself so as not to feel the deep sweep of the existential longing.
After, life past-based. I used the anguish to look back and re-invent myself.
The paradox is this: in order to be more present, you have to sometimes look back. As Kierkegaard famously wrote, “Life can only be understood by looking backward; but it must be lived looking forward” .
There are people that succumb to the temptation of nostalgia too much, and spend days engaging in the fondest reveries about the past. These often stretch into years. Of course, it's an illusion. If you were there, you know that even then, in that perfect past, they were complaining about something missing.
And then there are people the build illustrious dreams, always looking forward into the future. While the future keeps swelling, it isn't accompanied by the necessary effort; the granular vision needed to build the bride to that future. Bitterness often ensues.
In my opinion, it's a balance. Consciousness is blocked somewhere. If it's a conception about the future, it's because of this erroneous belief: 'the future equals the past.' So we erode that belief, while at the same time, uprooting past traumas.
However, trauma is not the only legitimate reason for looking back. Sometimes we've distorted our own story, so we need to go back and flesh it out. We've painted a devil, where a human was, for instance, or we've made a murderer into a mere 'inconvenience.' Memory is notoriously unreliable.
The more I learn about conscousness, the more I learn to embrace the mystery. The more scientists try to grapple with the mystery, to grope and to find the nebulous outer edges, the more difficult 'the problem' becomes. And this is the same with the human body... the more I learn, the more I unlearn.
When I broke my neck, what changed was awareness. I suddenly became aware that I'd been playing the victim role, with great gusto. I was somewhere (in San Diego), because of someone else, because of an idea that fell through, and I was with someone that wasn't a match, because I'd stumbled upon her in a bookstore, and I was penniless because the world didn't understand great art. Etc etc.
The one thing I know about blame is that it drains life force and renders one impotent at best, angry at worst.
Know thyself. γνῶθι σεαυτόν
The first inscription over the Oracle at Delphi.
So, once you're aware that you've been playing the victim, that role loses its allure. Pointing out a role, a 'racket' in the parlance of Werner Erhard, robs it of its power over you. You become free. You can stil indulge the role, as manipulation, however it no longer operates in secret. You're suddenly free.
So the longer trajectory is this => 'accident' => awareness of victimhood as a familiar identity pattern => desire to be free => creation of hero role as an identity pattern => freedom from the law of accident.
So, in a tragically short, dangerously inept translation:
From Fracture to Rapture™.
To come into the 'light', as it were, alone, is an odd thing. All of your acquaintances suddenly live only in books. You suddenly see most pepole doing 'exactly' what you used to do. (This is an oversimplification too, of course).
Now, there is much talk about 'gurus' and the end of 'gurus' in new-age circles. Many of the influencers are coveting their sacred rage, aiming it at every institution, in the hopes that it will lead to some kind of resolution; some kind of solace. If someone is being positive, it's spiritual bypassing: if they're being negative, it's realism. In reality, whatever world you're creating is real. You may not be able to wish a gray elephant into a pink one, however, you can see an elephant as the epitome of grace, even if it tramples you.
Is the guru dead? A simpler truth is this: people excel at different things; They possess different levels of knowledge. It is natural and rewarding for someone that knows more to mentor someone that knows less. And through that mentorship, both parties grow.
The challenge is this... who is mentoring in the art of 'being', to use Eric Fromm's classic terminology? Who excels at being, how is this excellence measured, and how is the art passed on?
It's a good question. I don't know the answer other than to say... I was rattled out of my core distortions by a huge, sweeping trauma. When I crawled out of the water, broken, the core distortions of others were painfully obvious. However, I didn't know at first how to compassionately bring awareness to them. If you just point something out, it often activated defense mechanisms. So it's a delicate art form, listening and mirroring.
This is what I spent the next three years studying in great depth: how to compassionately free people of their own cherished distortions, so that they could be more free, more at peace in the moment. By the way, more peace in the moment means more aliveness... it's a direct translation.
I also became much more conscious about how I was languaging everything. And I mean 'everything.' Every core distortion is carried close to our chest, with the words we choose to use. Every sentence either frees us up for healing or tightens our bonds. For instance, when someone said 'cell phone', I heard 'cell phone', as in prison 'cell'. And I've been forever wary of certain categories of technology ever since.
So journey back to the 1st sentence for a moment, if you will...
'My life changed when I broke my neck.'
For one thing, Is it 'my' life? What is 'my life'? The mortal coil of this lifetime? The awareness of this particular unique embodied vehicle for conciousness in a finite timeframe? (You get the picture).
The experience of this embodied vehicle for consciousness that I currently identify with 'changed' when an ocean wave hurtled it against the sand resulting in a cracked 5th cervicle vertebra.
Is this a detached, remote, impractical way of languaging a physical trauma? I wonder, is it more or less accurate than...
'My life 'changed' when I broke my neck.'
I'm always pondering ways to get more precise with language. There are times when it is beneficial to use deeply charged emotional language, and times when it is more appropriate to use more objective, scientifically-minded observation.
Emotionally charged version of another story:
My life also 'changed' when my partner at the time cheated on me and became a lesbian.
I began to reframe what I knew about trauma to the broken heart, and I realized that the mechanisms were all the same. I redefined trauma along the way, deciding that every definition was lacking. It needed to be broadened.
So, in every moment, every precious moment, notice how you're speaking to yourself. You're singing yourself into a trance, like the snake charmer. Be careful you're not hemoraging personal power, meandering toward the abattoir.
Objective version:
I became more aware of certain patterns I'd been relying on when C. was drawn to another person, fell into a love so powerfully that traditional gender roles fell away, and I was compelled to sit with my own insecurities and learn what it meant to be truly alive.
Ah. That's better.
So, leave a comment if you're re-considering how you've told your most cherished stories.
And if you have a question, that is ok too.
Love and rapture,
Steven Budden
Enlightenment Services for Leaders