Knowing there is much to be discovered

June 22, 1987

Many, many thoughts, and a centering of energy. A focusing and searching inward. Knowing there is much to be discovered. Soul, the book I'm reading, speaks of soul. Feeling confident of your abilities and reactions. I've been thinking of skiing as a child. How I had soul. How I could ski any hill, jump any jump, survive any fall. There was a lack of fear and a great confidence. I remember describing the loss of my bravery as saying I had become aware of what dangers were inherent in the situation. I think now that they must have been bogeys - I saw something in myself that frightened me. I lost my nerve at the approximately same time as I began to smoke amrijuana.

Marijuana drained away my self-assurance that I was capable of achieving whatever I might want. It made me more paranoidally aware of injuries and the humiliations that I had not experienced before that time - even after being dragged 30 feet by some insane hooked ski-rope, screaming "Help me!" until I was rescued. I did not feel all that stupid. I survived unscathed, my pride and body mostly intact.

I even survived facial injury, sitting in the snow, vey young, fourth grade (so about nine), with a quickly expanding lump on my cheek - clutching my face and crying as T-bar upon T-bar of adults - supposedly responsible, caring adults passed me - not offering to help. At last someone aided me. But even after all that, I survived the bus ride home. Cindy let me rest my head on her shoulder as I drifted in and out of sleep. People pointing occassionally and making jokes, "Do you have a golf ball in your mouth?" or calling me "Chipmunk".

I remember my parents' surprise and concern on my arrival home. I looked for a long time at myself in the front room mirror, kneeling on the comforting, cushy couch - acquainting myself with my new face. I survived the terror of going to school with a tremendous black eye, the lump so large, I couldn't see out of it. And after weeks only the color went away, not the lump. My parents took me to Central Medical to have a plastic surgeon drain half of the pocket of fluid (I returned later for the rest) with a huge needle rammed up through my gum and into my cheek cavity. The doctor numbed the whole side of my face, telling me not to chew on my lips or else they might remain droppy. Me staring in disbelief at the thought.

But I made it through. I thought it was cool. I had soul - I wasn't afraid of skiing nor was I afraid of the T-bars which had caused the accident. Julie rode with me on the T-bar on our return to Trollhagen a month or so after the accident. After she rode with me, assuring me that I was fine, I was cured. I was never afraid of riding solo again.

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I want to say more about this, but I feel pressured under my own deadline of one post a day. So maybe I will come back to this when I get a chance. Rules and routines! Where would I be without them!