A Defining Moment

Even in an era where we have electronic calendars and alerts to remind us of other important occasions, there are still some events and moments for which we don’t need reminders. We don’t need a notification for these dates because the events are so significant in our lives. They are our defining moments.

We can identify many of those moments only with the benefit of hindsight. We define these moments as we look back at the trail of breadcrumbs to assess how we got to where we are. Seeking to make sense of our journey, we come to realize that a certain experience set us on a new path. We line up the pieces to make sense of our story, observing how that one decision on that certain day led us to an experience that created an opportunity that led to a new decision.

Other moments define us. Even while we are still in the experience, we realize that we will forever define our lives by “before” or “after” this event.

These are our Defining Moments. They are the moments that define us. They are the moments when we know, right there, that there is no “back to normal,” only a way forward to a new normal.

What’s an example of a defining moment?

Your wedding day.

The birth of your first child.

Any time you embarked on a significant trip outside your comfort zone.

A brush with death.

For me, January 9, 2015 is one of those dates. Well, it may have been January 10. I’m not really sure.

It was the middle of the night when I woke up in an overheated bedroom. I didn’t look at a clock as I got out of bed to turn off the heat.

The next time I opened by eyes, it took me a few moments to realize I was on the floor. When I got back into my bed, I realized my head was bleeding, from the back.

For a year, people have asked me “what happened?”

That’s pretty much “what happened.”

Except not even close.

That was the catalyst for “what happened.”

The “what happened” is so much more complicated.

Because “what happened” is, in fact, still happening. A year later.

How do I describe an experience I had when I’m still having an experience around it?

To be clear, I don’t mean that I’m still having symptoms from the concussion.

The direct concussion symptoms are mostly gone by now, although too much screen time is still a big trigger for me.

I don’t think that’s a bad thing, by the way. Learning about the need to rest my brain is one of the best gifts I ever received in my life. Realizing just how little most of what happens on the internet and social media actually matters was a bonus lesson.

The experience of the shifts is what continues.

It was a blow to the head that opened the door to my soul and set me on a new path to awakening.

I love this quote from Rumi:

Don’t turn your head.
Keep looking at the bandaged place.
That’s where
the Light enters you.

This is the best way I can explain what happened. What’s happening.

The blow to the head wasn’t just about sustaining a concussion and sitting through months of post-concussion syndrome.

It was a Defining Moment.

It opened my heart and my soul. It showed me where I needed to let go and who I needed to become. It gave me the opportunity to deepen my faith and my trust. It taught me valuable lessons:

How to hold the space for myself.

How to be present to my experience.

How to get comfortable with stillness.

Ok, I’m still trying to get comfortable with the last one. With all of them, actually.

And that’s the point. It’s not done yet. It may never be done.

It is still opening me. Still showing me. Still offering opportunity. Still teaching me.

I suppose that’s the real mark of a defining moment: they aren’t static.

They set us on a path that is so vastly different from where we were that they continue to define us as we travel forward.

This is where I am. One year later, in a place quite different from where I thought I might be. Embracing my experience. Allowing it to unfold. Defining, and re-defining. Not merely changing, but evolving.

This is the journey. This is life.