So, is there more to this than hauling the wood of our history around? More than just replaying our patterns? Whether yesterday or five thousand years ago, there has always been the need to break
our habits in the world- the need to give up what no longer works. – Mark Nepo

So Many Ways

The first time I remember falling was through the center of a jungle gym. They weren’t fancy back in those days. Just a bunch of iron bars built in a modulated square, with a similarly shaped box perch on top.

I was alone after school, long after all the other kids were gone. Waiting for a ride that was sure not to come for hours. Climbing to the top, I dreamed I was the captain of a ship far out at sea. I could feel the wind, see the Porpoises frolicking in the bow’s wake. Scanning the horizon for enemy vessels, I ordered the crew to the guns. Just then a wave hit hard. Except it wasn’t my imagination.

I was overcome by a wash of dizziness and fell straight through the middle shoot, hitting the ground hard. Malleable as my young body was and completely limp in a half conscious state, the impact inflicted no harm. Dusting myself off, even at that young age, I was aware how lucky I was that my head had not hit any of the bars on the way down. Had it connected solidly, who knows.

I haven’t thought about that moment in years, though I have fallen so many times since. Innocence long departed, the stumbles now inflict pain. To this point, my thick skull has not struck the steel squarely. I’ve suffered cuts, bruises and even deep gouges, but the giving side of impermanence has shown me mercy.

I have spent the last two days writing about my dad. Through his words and my memories, I have ridden with him at the helm of great vessels. I have felt the sting of his stumbles. I’ve asked Him for his wisdom; That born of his imperfect experience. We have walked together once more.

Years ago the two of us crouched alone on the Galveston jetty. A thirty foot high wave, we’d noticed building minutes before, steadily approaching from the ship channel. I gripped the bow of our, twelve foot, Jon boat with white knuckled fury. He held the craft with one hand and my arm in the other. I knew, if he had to let go of one it would not be me. Though he had fallen plenty, he would not fail. It was a moment as surreal as the slow motion we experience with the imminence of a car wreck.

Though the sound had to be deafening as the massive wave crashed into and over us, all I remember is silence. We were together at the bottom of that jungle gym, dusting ourselves off and preparing to climb the tower again. This time with more knowledge than the last.

Learning,
Will


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