Falling in the Home Stretch

What falling can teach us -part 2

Welcome to my readers new and old. Mahalo for being with me on this vulnerable journey of writing and reflection. I am feeling especially vulnerable right now and I will tell you more about that. But first, if you found your way here randomly and would like my future writing sent to you by email, here is the link for that:

Eleven months ago on They Keep Telling Me I Should Write My Memoir, I began writing about horses and what I'd learned from them. I started with this post: What Falling Can Teach Us.

What CAN falling teach us? For starters, that sometimes we need to “fall” to interrupt our patterns, to get a different perspective.

Apparently this is one of those times for me.

You might have noticed from this Substack or my social media that my life got busy the past few months. Very busy. Starting in late October when I traveled to NYC for five days between two meetings in Honolulu, through a relentless schedule of inter-island travel, conferences and holiday events, hikes and ʻāina work days¹, I kept telling myself “I just have to get through December 16th and then everything will be a little less crazy.” I kept thinking the six month home remodel that has half my possessions moving from room to room regularly, the disruption for which I waited almost two years to begin, might complete mid-December as well.

I almost made it. I was actually in the absolute home stretch, changing planes in Honolulu Airport on my way back from conservation site visits in East Maui, when someone called my name. I turned to look at them, tripped over a rolling carry-on piece of luggage, and fell - choosing my outstretched but not fully extended right arm as the body part to sacrifice in service to avoiding a concussion.

My arm didn't really hurt that much right away, not unless I tried to do something with it. I figured it was just a bad sprain, boarded the flight back to Kona, drove over an hour home to Kohala, took a couple of Tylenol and went to sleep with my arm elevated. Good girl, right?

As I applied ice the next morning it finally occurred to me the wrist looked pretty nasty. A bit deformed to tell the truth. Like any dedicated real estate professional with counter offers in play, I answered some emails, made some phone calls, then decided what the heck, I might as well drive up to Waimea and stop by the emergency room to have an x-ray to be sure. The ER doctor took one look and was already sure; I had a Colles fracture of my right wrist. The wrist of the hand I use to write notes in endless journals and on errant scraps of paper. The wrist of the hand that holds the knife to chop all the veggies in the pretty salads I make every night with dinner. The wrist of the arm with which I intended to wield a machete against the rest of the undesirables² along the driveway entrance on Christmas Day. The wrist of the hand that ties the knot on my horsesʻ halters.

Four hours later, I left the ER, my wrist “reduced” and splinted with fiberglass.

I've told this story to a few people who've had the same injury. They look at me like I'm nuts. And ask in disbelief - you really didn't think you were in very much pain? I told the nurse at the hospital it was maybe a two, maybe a three. Her expression was -carefully arranged. She told me that redheads have a higher threshold for pain. I'm not a redhead but my dad was, so maybe there is something genetic to that. My hanai daughter, who is trained as a contortionist among other circus arts, agreed with me that those of us who have a heightened body awareness (mine through a serious yoga practice of 15+ years) probably develop a different relationship with physical discomfort.

Reflecting on stories I have told in these newsletters, I think I have a high threshold for emotional as well as physical pain. I'm not sure it's a plus.

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And even so, these recent mornings when I wake up and begin my daily practice - naming what I am grateful for, asking for help for friends and family and a world in suffering and confusion, and then asking for anything I might need help for myself - I feel a flood of love for this amazing world. For community and for ʻohana. For those who created and continue West Hawaii Community Hospital as such a vibrant place of healing. I find it easier to offer myself the same compassion and care I so freely and abundantly extend to others.

I am grateful for the Universe saying SLOW DOWN SISTER. Even the weekly email with a Tarot card reading that arrived this morning was The Tower card. I get it, I get it. This accident was no Accident.³

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So whatʻs the message here? Can I actually take my own advice? <mentally insert laughing out loud rolling on the floor emoji, folks>

Letʻs start with gracefully letting go of guilt over the many things that I do customarily that right now I can't do at all. I can't physically write with a pen and pencil so forget handwritten holiday cards. I can't make the elaborate dinners I normally cook for the holidays. I can't ride Kūkūilama. I sort of figured out how to wash my hair one-handed although I can't quite figure out how to use the round brush and the blow dryer without using both my hands, so it's a good thing all of the fancy parties are over for the season. (Ok thatʻs a vanity thing, not a guilt thing. Mascara - forget that too).

I am throwing out my 2025 business and personal plan, which I so conscientiously prepare in the 4th quarter of each year, and taking a fresh look at my life and commitments over the next 10 days.

I've written in these pages about grief. I just wrote in these pages about things not going the way I want them to and needing to let go of expectations.

I'm going to have to ask for a lot of help. and I'm just going to have to let some things slide. Mastering these two lessons is going to matter a lot for me to age with dignity and joy over the next three decades or so of my life.

One of those things I may let slide for the next month or so is my weekly commitment to writing this Substack newsletter - which is kind of a shame because so many of you are new here. I would definitely encourage you to go back and actually read my adventures from 1992 to 1997⁴ as those are the stories that made people say they keep telling me I should write my memoir. But I don't want to miss the message here. And I'm afraid if I just keep finding workarounds to keep doing all the things, the too many things, that I was already doing I'll miss the message(s). I can't be a very good secretary for so many organizations. I don't really have to be the cook every single night. And I don't really need to be pushing myself in so many directions.

So let's enjoy this solstice, this time of relaxation, this time of gathering with those we love, this time of turning inward, this time of setting New Directions and New Beginnings - and I'll see you back here soon.

1. Not to mention prepping new listings, showing old ones, touring buyer clients, opening escrows, and all the usual real estate stuff.

2. Invasive plants, not Christmas carolers!

3. Tarot cards? Among the things I do not believe but know to be true.

4. And they are numbered since Substack does not offer an easy way to sort from oldest to newest.