Many die when violently slamming their entire body onto black ice and asphalt.
Unfortunately I lived!
There is a part of me that still wishes I had died.
It was my Arabian horse who kept me alive.
He helped me mustard up every moment of Grit reclaiming my life, through extreme determination.
The surgeons performed their craft perfectly; they come with a Hug and scalpel. I am bionic now.
It was the aftermath, the brain recovery, rewiring, changing all damage, re-thinking movement, lost memories, amnesia, crashing into door jams, dizzy dizzy dizzy brain pain. Arguing with doctors and therapists when fully dysfunctional and not able to speak a congruent sentence; “your tests are wrong,” I would retort!
Going with my gut instincts; my only ally.
Recovery was “improbable, dubious at best!” Hearing those words over and over, a ferociousness rose inside each time I heard, “You Can’t.” The odds were inconceivably insurmountable.
I can and I will! stated through gritted teeth.
Adjacent to this ordeal were humans, and their destructive narrow mindedness when a person is slightly different. We do not take the time to understand.
We push away, put asunder; ignorance prevailed. And I rebelled.
The aftermath of thought, there is no hindsight; I lived in excruciating disbelief; where were the medical professionals who should know something? This question I asked over and over, with only one person who had an answer byway of a whisper; “it’s all up to you, your life is on your shoulders to recover. “
The tenacious part of me would not relinquish, many times hugging my trustworthy horse in bitter tears, “how, are we going to make it out of hell this time?”
After facing all that could ever go wrong in life; thirteen years stolen. How do I rebuild? How could restoration come from utter chaos?
Again, with my horse promising him I would be tenacious. What he was about to teach me, blindsided all internal senses.
I came face to face with life’s immortality and the depths of vulnerability!
Vulnerability, was opposition of my determination in the fight to recover.
Ah! a way out, as the clouds of memories came drifting through, recollections of the past which I never spoke a word of. I wrote one book, over 600,000 words of licentious unspeakable skeletons.
Could I be done with all this emotional foolery? A fools’ gold! Thinking I had rid myself of emotional vulnerability, only to discover it was a requisition hijacking me deeper.
ARRGGHHH vulnerability, I hate you!
There was more grief on the edge of our lives. A death, and the only being in my life I could count upon, my Arabian, now in despair and grief!
I have reached a place of critical vulnerability. Sadden by death, encouraged by determination.
ARRGGHHH vulnerability; why will you not leave us to live freely?
Our crucible enigma.
Damn you I thought.
When I ought to be most vulnerable, life demanded of me fortitude in my conviction. How could life bring such bewilderment in contradictions, to exceed beyond realistic realities?
Steadfastness in vulnerability came ushering from my depths!
Holding my KlassicAmir, gazing into his eyes, I craved to weep; tears would not release the moment.
What am I changing to be?
Klassic’s eyes are soft brown as I gaze into them, I would allow the slightest bit of helplessness; Incorrect! This is vulnerability!
Vulnerability, you have come to live with us, “you are not unconquerable, it states through my powerful stead.”
I faced my death in its eyes with savagery. I faced the impossible by all accounts and recovered. Clawed my way through more than thirteen agonizing years, and now, my Arabian horse demands I be vulnerable?
Well damn! Super Power beings live only in the comics and movies, creative imaginings; it’s not reality.
Look into vulnerability’s eyes, life courses along a rivers’ edge, flowing around rocks, seeping beneath or around Beavers’ dams, continuing its life course.
And so is vulnerability!
My Blue Heeler, Sädé is going blind, thereby she uses her nose and I adapt to her needs.
So does the river of vulnerability!
KlassicAmir and I walk gently over the foothills, bitter cold breeze fills the afternoon. In his majestic stance, he still grieves with allowance. His head lowered we gaze into each others’ eyes, the stillness of that moment tears well in my eyes, one thought consumes me: we made it thus far with ruthless grit and determination, [I whisper] I suppose instincts will lead us forward through vulnerability.
Two factors humans never give much credence; instincts and the unseen; once again we are to prove the impossible; our rivers’ course of life.
My forehead meets with his. What an incredible teacher I have found, with no words ever uttered. A huge sigh, no relief, instead – a steadfastness. A trust in what is unseen with a deepening knowledge opening as the beautiful flowers bloom in springtime.
Vulnerability – comes from the instinctual survival depths with no guarantees. A birth place unfathomable, freeing with no warranties; being, is vulnerability’s collateral.
I watched overhead two hawks flying upward, higher and higher in tandem. Clutching a snake at least five feet in length, clutched in sharp talons. The snake insisting on its survival, hurdling upward to free its self. The hawk tips its wing in flight, the snake loses its momentum. Soaring upward farther and farther both hawks in flight to their nested young, an afternoon’s meal.
All three are vulnerable, all three displayed fierceness to survive; there are no guarantees. I watched the hawks with Klassic by my side, remembering the rivers’ flowing water that’s never stopped by nature.
Sound impossible? it is, until we step in with willingness. A determination emerges, the parallel partner of vulnerability. Confidence emerges, lacking all judgement;
for there are no guarantees.
The paradoxical element which builds unwavering confidence amidst no assurance.
The snake became a meal to feed a nest of fledgling hawks.
Vulnerability is natures course in life. Accepting the depths we travel, the reward is solidification in durability, the stamina of our backbone. Trusting with no measure to trust. Listening to inner knowledge where few are willing to travel, nonetheless, life will force us.
Socrates never wrote a word, yet his brilliance lives, recited for centuries.
We all stand in this place of vulnerability, it is an opportunity with no guarantee. The settlement is precious to the person who is willing to live on an edge so tenuousness, that in it’s equidistant brings us to fortitude and courage, and yet these attributes are elusive as vulnerability.
As I write, listening to another author giving a speech in Aspen, Colorado, Anand Giridharadas: The Thriving World, The Wilting World, & You
His words consume me, “The Aspen consensus states: “Do More Good, not Do Less Harm.”
Ambiguous as vulnerability, yet filled with life.
DEDICATED TO BEHAVIORAL SOLUTIONS FOR THE BETTERMENT OF LIFE. ©
About the Author: MicheleElys is a Neurobehaviorist ~ Writer ~ Educator ~ Keynote Speaker.
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