Thoughts about life from the bedside (and kitchen floor) of Colette Baron-Reid
It’s been a while since I connected with my tribe to let you know what’s happening, what’s new and what gems of wisdom I might have found in the treasure of experience to share with you. So in the spirit of inconsistency, I am super grateful for your patience.
This two-part blog is a long one (one that I will share in its entirety in my newsletter this week) so grab a cup of tea and snuggle in for a story within a story which I hope will touch you somehow with something real and meaningful.
Got your attention?
One morning a couple of weeks ago I set the intentions for my day, and somehow I didn’t notice that I penciled in a doozy of a motorcycle accident to my already packed to-do list. What? Who me?
Intuitively speaking, one would like to think there was some kind of magical intervention that would make it impossible for someone such as me, who has been known for her uncanny skill set, to pencil in such an event in my destiny without giant sirens blaring.
Fact is I’ve been living at such breakneck speed these past couple of years, but if you’re in my tribe you’ve been watching it all- breaking long-standing family ties, leaving Hay House for Random House, appearing on TV, launching a school, releasing a new book, touring and oh so many places, spreading myself too thin.
I am not all that surprised that life threw me against a granite post to find my true surrender while being thrown over a fence into a field.
I know the subject of motorcycles polarizes some folks, and the fact I ride them ignites lots of opinions. But, I’m a cautious rider and I love motorcycling as it’s one of my proudest bucket list accomplishments. So I’m clear the accident was not one of recklessness, and although I’m sad that my beautiful new Harley went the way of the motorcycle parts auction, I’m grateful to have miraculously escaped greater injury.
Maybe there were signs, in fact there had been as I questioned whether I could connect to this new thoroughbred of a powerful 900 lb. iron horse. I couldn’t really “feel” her- important to every rider to sense their bike intuitively. I kept being told not to worry; there was a breaking-in period. She was brand spanking new.
I was waiting for the click that kept eluding me those first two weeks. Still I signed up for classes to better my safety skills as an advanced rider. Yet, I was doing all the right things. I had been acutely aware that I was not grounded in the experience.
But this story is not about whether motorcycling is a dangerous sport and the opinions rule that this proves I should quit, or that I was getting signs from the universe to slow down, or that I manifested this, or that some nasty jealous person was sending me bad juju. We can spend hours and hours retracing our steps searching for ways to make sense of things that were not meant to be prevented.
The real lesson is how we respond to situations.
What I mean by that is not whether we face our obstacles with a vapid smile saying thank goodness for lessons! Or, that we say – “well that must have been meant to be- everything happens for a reason,” sigh, and then secretly blame ourselves for manifesting hardship. I’m also not talking about how many points we might lose in the respond vs. react scale when we feel like we’re victims of a horrible fate. I’m talking about how willing we are to dive into the deep muck of fear and anger, and shame and blame to face ourselves at our most vulnerable. Can we love ourselves enough? Can we still have faith?
I will go into more detail about what’s happened since that fence-flattening day in tomorrow’s blog, but for now I’d love to hear about you. Have you ever experienced an “accident” that resulted in the mirror of your life being put two inches from your face with no escape until you took a real hard look at what was reflected back? Have you been “forced” to look at your life and your purpose and passion in a new light? Was the timing of your storm cloud perfect to allow for the blessing of the silver lining? There is wisdom in learning from others and I believe it would be helpful for us to hear how well things turned out.
Colette Baron Reid
The InVision Project