Friday, September 03, 2010

A Second in My Life

Philip Dodd, in his post Memory Glimpse — One Second in Your Life, asks:

"If you had to remember just one second of your life, which one would it be? By 'remember' I mean the full detail of that one second. Every last little bit of it, in high definition. How would you go about choosing such a moment? . . . Maybe it's one of those instances in your life that you have no choice but to remember."

This is my response.

* * *

It was sometime in June 1988 and I was in the throes of alcohol “treatment.” Throes, because it was painful work, attempting during endless group sessions to look at me through sober eyes. As snippets of the previous twenty-five years constantly popped into my mind, I liked myself less and less. “No wonder the only ‘friends’ I ever had were other drunks like me,” I thought, not in self-pity but stating a truism.

Both staff and group members could tell that I was struggling with me, and to assuage my feelings of guilt and shame they repeatedly told me that I had the “physical disease of alcoholism.” Bullshit. That was The Great Escape clause and I wasn’t having any of it (and I still don’t). It is only right, after a quarter of a century of chaos and mayhem that I caused, that I feel remorse for my behavior.

One bright spot of treatment was the desert. The Mojave, in southern California. At five a.m., when I sat on the patio in just my boxers—smoking, thinking, and watching the sun come up. It was my first-ever time in a desert (I lived in Denver then, not the neighboring Sonoran like now), and I was fascinated by the trees and bushes and flowers and birds—

—and the hummingbird. The "one second in my life."

There were three of the tiny creatures flitting around red-tinted blooms searching for nectar. I was amazed by their aerodynamics: zoom here, zoom there, stop on a dime, hover like a helicopter, fly backward, dive bomb like a kamikaze and then pull up at the very last moment, their flapping, humming wings a blur.

Time is man-made, so it doesn’t matter whether it was one second or several of them. One of the little birds flew within several inches of my face and hovered there, one eye locking onto mine as we stared curiously at each other.

The hummingbird had a message for me that I will not, cannot ever forget: “Everything will be alright.” No, it wasn’t a basso profundo voice like James Earl Jones's, but a feeling. A feeling I will not, cannot ever forget: a sense of warmth and safety, of acceptance and forgiveness, a feeling of HOPE where hope had never been before. “Everything will be alright” was like a hypodermic shot to my broken heart, and thereafter I never gave up on myself or my recovery. Receiving a message from a bird sounds a bit like crackpottery, but looking back after twenty-two years, everything has been alright.

Like Philip says, it's one of those instances in my life that I have no choice but to remember.

Nor would I if I could.

* * *

It is said that theft is the sincerest form of flattery (or something like that), so I've stolen this from Philip: "So - One Second In Your Life - imprinted on your brain. Now, tell me about yours...."

 

25 comments:

Robert the Skeptic said...

I posted my experience, actually a link to it, on Philips blog as well. I wrote the entry over two years ago, but I can still recall the experience as if it were yesterday.

It was a turning point in my life; a close five-second brush with death, after which I ended a lifetime of believing other people's bullshit.You can read about it Here if interested, its a bit long for a "comment".

Nice story, Charlie... I can picture it so clearly. Morning in the desert is a remarkable thing..

Eryl said...

Lovely story, you provide all the details I need to see it clearly without overcrowding. It does sound like crackpottery, you're right, but I don't think it was the bird who gave you a message, the bird just helped you switch off from yourself and thus see what you needed to: that you had the strength to succeed.

You have given me an idea for a post that will be perfect for Tuesday, thanks, I'll just need to take the time to write it now.

MaryWitzl said...

You've made me nostalgic for hummingbirds. We had them in Southern California and I don't think I truly appreciated them -- how beautiful and jewel-like they were, coming to drink out of the bottles of colored sugar-water we put out for them. I miss them now!

And what a great moment to remember.

Charlie Callahan said...

Now I understand why you love animals so much.

Charlie Callahan said...

Just call me the idea guy.

Charlie Callahan said...

Here's the moment Fay did: http://bit.ly/bXcI1Z

Pat said...

Just catching up. Funny how some birds can have a magical effect. Remember the mocking bird.

Charlie Callahan said...

Set up a PROFILE at http://disqus.com/

It's short, easy, and no privacy concerns.

Charlie Callahan said...

I don't think you can unless you have a profile with DISQUS--otherwise, their system has no idea which unregistered" user is trying to delete a comment. Tell me which one you want deleted and I'll do it from my end (or front, depending).

Tiffin said...

P.S. my one second was when I was giving birth to my twin sons. They lay R. on my chest while I was still giving birth to A. He looked straight into my eyes, a really deep, searching look. It was as though our souls linked fast and hard in that moment. This enormous wave of protectiveness washed over me and the deepest love I have ever felt for anyone or anything consumed me. The power of that feeling stunned me...I had no idea I had that capacity in me. I was still in that state of strange grace when they brought my second lad to show me. The amazing thing is that this feeling is still there, as though something locked opened up in me and will never close again.

Tiffin said...

How do you delete a comment with this Disqus thing, Charlie?

Tiffin said...

This is so synchronous, Charlie. Just yesterday, I read the following at a native artist's site www.davidneel.com: "It is known for its fortitude, and ability to overcome great obstacles. The coming of the Hummingbird signifies peace, healing and joy. " Well! Didn't it just, for you! That's a pretty darn special moment, my friend.

Charlie Callahan said...

"He was already traveling but I didn't know it."

A terrible experience, Syd, but a beautiful phrase.

Charlie Callahan said...

The "bus" (actually a train, but who cares) came from a site called Image Chef.

http://www.imagechef.com/

They have a lot of stuff to fool around with—no high (or low) tech on my part. As far as this new commenting system, its success has yet to be determined.

Aledys Ver said...

What a beautiful moment! I am glad you heeded that hummingbird! Funny how a precious moment like this can make a difference on how we see ourselves and stays with us forever. Thanks for sharing this!
Have a nice week!!

Philip said...

Nice work Charlie. Curiously similar in that it was an instant of contact with an animal. Just a moment of seeing how the world is from a different perspective I suppose. Great post.
Side issue - how the hell did you do that thing with the bus on your side bar. Your lungs may be past their best but you are mr teccy guy at the minute. Your new comments thing etc. I remain seriously impressed. You are indeed The Professor. This particular freshman is inspired.

barbara said...

That's a wonderful moment, Charlie. I'm glad you heeded that hummingbird.

I don't have any such life-altering moments that I can recall, but I do have some moments of absolute beauty and peace that I call upon to tide me through rough spots. One memory that always brings me peace is the warm autumn morning when I stepped out into the backyard to see my five-year old in her long nightgown, arms extended, twirling in the leaves to the music in her head. When I remember that, it gives me hope.

TechnoBabe said...

Hi Charlie. Hummingbird means joy in native American spirituality. So hubby and I are really into hummingbirds.
As soon as I read the beginning of this post I immediately pictured my second time to be with my now hubby in person. Our first time was five hours at a restaurant. So on our second "date" we went to a movie and then walked to a restaurant. When he walked me to my car he hugged me. I had never felt like that ever. That hug made me feel like I was home. It was the most comfortable I had ever been with someone and heck I had only known him a few weeks. I will never forget that moment.

Madame DeFarge said...

What a wonderful post. And a wonderful second to reflect upon. Take care of yourself. Glad that you're back.

Bibliophilebythesea said...

That was a beautiful one Charlie. I can visualize it.

My first imprint came up as a negative imprint sadly. I recalled the day I was a little girl and my cat just had kittens. I went to visit them and they were missing. When I asked my mother where the kittens were, she told me, "your uncle eddie put them in a trash bag and took them to the river to see if they could swim". Nice thing to tell a little kid huh?......yep, I have issues, but I finally understand why.

sydrocks said...

The one second for me was when my mother called to tell me my father had died suddenly. I knew that at that moment something shifted in me. I had just visited him the night before because I felt "called" to go. He was already traveling but I didn't know it. So the pieces came together at that moment-- how we are so inter- connected.

hope said...

You tell that so well, I can "hear" that little hummingbird's message drilling into your head. And no, it's not nuts.

Funny thing, the first thing that popped into my mind when you posed the question was the day I got married. I was shy, hated crowds, didn't like being the center of attention. So where most little girls dream of being center stage as a bride, I dreaded it. And yet when it came time to do our vows, one of my friends would later comment, "That's the first time I ever heard you speak up in public. Confident. No doubts."

That's because everyone in the room faded away and I only saw hubby. Guess I did okay, since he's still around. :)

Djan said...

This is really hard, Charlie. The first second that came to mind is when I entered freefall for the first time, twenty years ago yesterday. It was a life changing event for me, and when I think of that moment in time, I can still feel all the emotions I felt at the time: among them fear, exhilaration, and surrender. I now have more than 65 hours of accumulated time in freefall, but that first moment, for me, is imprinted in my memory forever.

Wardenfiles said...

For me... it would have to be the day I discovered you cannot change the past, only the future.

Faysoflife said...

Once again, I'm moved and humbled by your words. This brought me to tears and while I go work in my garden I'll try to come up with one moment to write about.