A near death experience changes our perspective of life.
It’s like a doorway to another dimension. Everything before that door flung open looks and feels different to our mind’s eye, sometimes better than it actually was. While we’re healing those ‘Before’ moments are lifesavers. A glimmer of hope during darkness. A photo album to pull out (as proof for when we forget) of brighter days.
When we’ve transmuted the wretched and we can say with confidence that the pain has departed, we experience light. Near-blinding radiance and ethereal weightlessness.
Light shows our soul that there’s so much more than ‘Before.’
My husband, the ever-talented artist/master craftsman/designer, Aaron R. Thomas, survived a 30-foot fall seven-years ago. The doctors couldn’t believe he lived, let alone that today he can run, jump, trade stocks, engineer furniture, develop architecture, sell real estate, consult businesses—should I continue? It’s a miracle. Albeit, when he was re-learing how to walk (or talk, write and generally just be ‘normal’ again), miraculous was not at the top of his vocabulary to describe the healing process.
Our walls house a collection of oil paintings that he created prior to his fall and during dark days they turned our home into a rainbow-bright fort. They’re a playful expression of a time when he felt the rewarding abundance of a growing business. The oversized canvases (5’ x 6’) plastered with slabs of thick oil paint sing of that plentiful period.
Aaron isn’t really one to stay dark, so it’s no surprise that his ‘After’ paintings—though apparently contrasting—are more vibrant than his ‘Before.’ After doesn’t necessarily mean bad. Some of our greatest moments of genius come from dark or painful places. They are electrifying, heart piercing, raw experiences—during and long after. But, they make us who we are.
So, I suppose we have to learn to love our pain.
And then let it go.
It’s time to make room for more light.
It’s time to let go of ‘Before’ & ‘After.’
It’s time for ‘Now.’