From... Would You Like to Share?
I'd Be Interested in Hearing Your... "Brushes with Death?"
Let Me Share... "The Fire Event" that Got Rid of My Distractions!
I have had several "Brushes with Death" during my life but none so Highlighted, colorful, conscious, or full of lessons and love as this on October 11th, 2000! Some of these "Brushes" happened so fast, they were over before I had time to think about them. And I was too young and too immature and too unfocused to consider the lessons inherent in their fleeting passing. There was the 1965 horse trip into The Cascades Mountains when I heard an overhead "crunch " and a long "swish"... my horse crouched to the ground in shivers, until my stirrups touched the trail and until I felt my hair being brushed by a huge and heavy branch that would have snapped my neck had it crashed to the ground 1 inch closer. Or there was the 1969 dangerously fast drive on a snow-packed highway in the fog when I slammed on my brakes to feel the convertible whirl around; and after I stepped out to examine the situation, I found it 2 inches from a concrete bridge, perched on a straight-down drop-off. And there was the 1983 beating by the alcoholic cowboy boyfriend, during which I lost so much of my hearing and after which I decided to take Marianne Fry's advice and earnestly seek The Lord.
Then, some of these "Brushes with Death" were long and drawn out. There was the 1987 heart attack and stroke, with the elephants pounding on my chest and the 2 weeks I spent in bed afterwards, not telling anyone what had happened, while I rested as best I could, with eyes blackened by ruptured blood vessels and chest pains for company, and after which I began the 3 year project of The Health Seekers' YearBook. And there was the 1997 November, I have told you about, when the workaholism and depression almost swept me away, and after which I renewed my resolve to keep working for The Great American Hygiene Revolution and was led by The Lord to prepare for the 1998 - 1999 year in The Wilderness to take spiritual and physical healing.
The most conscious "Brush with Death," prior to "The Fire Event" which I must share with you was dramatic, but yielded nothing like the lessons and love I want to share with you which I earned on October 11th, 2000. This occurred in late August, 1972. My husband Tony and I were returning along a beach near Copalis, Washington, after an all day ride. I was on the most favorite horse of my lifetime, accompanied by my most beloved dog of 10 years, and my highschool sweetheart and only husband. It was not a mature relationship Tony and I shared. It was dusky and cloudy, windy and stormy. The horses, the dog, and Tony and I were tired and eager to get back to camp. In the morning, on the ride out, we had crossed a large stream of, maybe, 100 feet across , only to come back to what appeared to be a river, 10 times wider! Still, I remembered the morning's 2 foot deep stream. And to go around would take at least 3 more hours in the dark. We were only 15 minutes from a campfire and a hearty meal! I urged Tony to cross it. After all, how much deeper than 2 feet could the tide have turned such a stream? I'll never forget Tony said: "You go first." Well, horses have a way of sticking together. And I was trying out an English saddle, with no horn and no seat to hold me in. When we got about half way across, Chico submerged completely. And when he emerged, he turned around and headed back for his favored, equine companion. I was helpless in the English saddle: and I did not think to just hang on and let his strong swim return me to the shore.
Now, I have been a very strong swimmer all my life. But I began to drown. What was so strange was that it did not even occur to me to try to swim. My heavy cowboy boots and down jacket were working with the undertow and against me. I looked back to the eye level scene on shore to see little, tiny characters: someone on a horse and a second, riderless horse. I had no emotion for these miniature characters. They were like tiny toys, complete strangers. And even though the water was cold and white-caps were raging around me, "the things of the earth had grown strangely dim." Then, suddenly, I was lifted high above the water, to look down on the whole scene! I felt warm and peaceful and full of love and happiness. I saw myself drowning below, without panic, without fear, just going under and coming up not even trying to swim. And corny as it may sound I saw my life played out before my eyes, like a full-color movie. Where I was, lifted up, was warm and comforting and peaceful. Then just as suddenly I was back in the turbulent and freezing-cold water! I looked to my left. And there was Woof! My beloved Woof had followed Chico and me. He looked over to me and then to the other side repeatedly, with a very worried, knitted brow, like dogs can so expressively do. Over at me, then straight ahead. Over at me, then straight ahead. Until I snapped to! And we swam to the shore's safety. Woof and I walked to camp, and when Tony and the horses pulled in hours later, we never discussed what had happened. We lost ourselves in the campfire, a spaghetti dinner, and snuggling. Whatever lessons I could have learned were lost to my Godless immaturity. My atheist husband brushed my drowning off as "a close call." Still, the stream crossing event did strengthen my suspicion that realities spiritual did exist.
