NO BONE FLAP...

Someday, I will have this accident to thank for my life. For how my life is different, for the jorney I have been on. It's a rather disturbing image to see, but given I have no conscious memory of that day, it's not traumatic. I think the first week in ICU was more traumatic for everybody else than it was for me. The tape on my head says, "NO BONE FLAP" - a warning to anybody who may want to come knock on my head to see if I'm in there. Just brains below that skin.

One year later, I'm looking at these photos for the first time and connecting them with all the stories I've heard.



My sister Jamie and nephew Everett came to see me from Florida and he was the first person I recognized. I think he was a little freaked out to see me like that.

My Life Has Been Saved by Love...

I fell into the hands of people who love me and that is why I'm here today - February 19th - it has been one year. Sometimes the weight of gratitude is more than I can bear. I don't feel beholden as much as undeserving of such beauty. And not because I feel like a jerk, but because I don't know how to say "thank you". I don't know how those two words, or any words can express my gratitude. Yes, my journey through this has been truly miraculous - a divine gift. So much of that miracle though happened before my eyes, through my eyes as I encountered the people whose hands were there to catch me. How do you thank people, so many people, for the gift of love? I suppose love doesn't require a return but to experience love moves the heart towards a gratitude that seeks expression. And that's where I get stuck because expressions of gratitude, no matter how extravagant, just can't measure up to what has been received. And they shouldn't. What it comes down to is love begets love and that, ladies and gentlemen, is worth the price of admission.

This picture was drawn three days after the fall by a woman in a counseling group I co-led with a friend for a year. I recently had the privilege of visiting the group and was presented with this drawing. They had been waiting nearly a year to give it to me. I don't think there is a better picture of what the last year has been like for me...love begets love

OVERSIZED LOAD...

Exactly a year ago today I got a call at 11:00am saying, "Mr.Lewis, your boat has arrived." They had been held up at the Washington border the day before (this photo)and were waiting for clearance from the Washinton State Police to travel through the state. There were three pilot cars that had to travel with the "Super-OVERSIZED LOAD", one in front, one behind and one many miles ahead to scout the route. Well, somehow they were able to sneak over the border under the cloak of darkness and arrive in Everett a couple days ahead of schedule. I didn't ask any questions about how they managed to get there without clearance ahead.

I was finishing up a varnish job on the Safari Spirit when I got the call and just left everything to go see the boat arrive. My tools, jacket and such remained untouched in the forward crew quarters for days in rememberance of my presence on that project. It was months before I got my jacket back and it smelled like the boat thankfully.

It's almost like last year is staring all over again. I have this big daunting boat project ahead of me, it's winter time, it's beautifully and unseasonably sunny, this time though, I'm not planning to taking a dive off the mother. I'll be wearing my helmet tomorrow.

Portlock...

She sits forlorn, at a finger of floating pier at Fisherman’s Terminal. The years have not been kind to her and she looks now more a victim of neglect than faithful service at sea. The For Sale signs, coupled with No Trespassing warnings, look as old as she does. As I look at her, I imagine a fresh coat of paint where now there are streaks of rust below the scuppers, chips, scrapes, and visible dry-rot just above the waterline. By her lines I can tell she’s an old converted Halibut Schooner, from a time before sail gave way to steam. Her prow, once strong and prominent is now weathered and battered by the countless weighing of anchor, which itself looks more like a permanent fixture I wouldn’t trust in the best of holding grounds. Her masts, now shorn, look to be little more than antenna and radar towers with some brackets to hold up the equipment they use to haul barn door sized Halibut up off the ocean floor before they put a gun to their heads to kill them quick before they maul the fisherman on board with their wild and legendary thrashings. Her stern, built to handle a following sea in a North Pacific gale, has a swale that at one time was alluring and sexy but now sits tired and low in the water under the weight of the makeshift house that was added on probably years ago. I wonder what stories she carries. I wonder how many men have boarded her with dreams of adventure, expanse and the thrill of the catch. Dreams of the wealth they will fetch from their perilous labor. I can’t help also thinking of the broken dreams that live aboard this boat, each one leaving its mark on her as they fight and scratch to pull fish from the ocean floor and return home empty handed. Or the broken dreams of those who never got to return home, but instead suffered the cruel indifference of the sea. In the hands of men at sea, she looks like she’s worked harder than any horse or beast I’ve seen in the service of men. To see her is to grieve the indifference she’s endured and long for a time she can be put to rest – no longer suffering the dreams of unforgiving men in the unforgiving sea.

Contingency...

I've been thinknig about this word recently. I just had breakfast with a good friend and we talked about it at length. I don't think I've ever been to the High Spot Cafe in Madrona and not had a rich relational time. It's the first breakfast spot I ever went to in Seattle way back in 1993.

There is something so utterly contingent about being a human being. So utterly unpredictable and fragile - those words sound trite and cliche compared to the weight of this contingency. Yet the staggering lengths we go to (especially here in our safe little American culture) in hopes of stemming the tide of contingency are equally weighty, if not downright tragically comical. To think that if we order our lives properly, carefully, and with "integrity", we can avoid suffering, catastrophe and heartache is folly. We may be able to head off the more obvious risks by living a life committed to safety, security and to never suffering, but the consequences of such a life far outweigh the risks of truly living. All that to say, there is an inherent, unavoidable risk to being alive on this earth. With years like last year, this truth threatens to become a maddeningly ironic and dirty trick. I take one of the biggest risks of my life and fall on my head, my friend Clinton has two open heart surgeries with a 99% success rate fail, another friend is diagnosed with Thyroid cancer, unfathomable relational failures, people die in their sleep. My friend Paul said, "this year has kicked my ass more than any in my entire life." I'll drink to that.

However, this is shaping up to be one of the best years of my entire life. I'm coming to grips with contingency. Being alive will kick you in the ass. Being alive will eventually kill you. It is no use to pretend this isn't true anymore. I do not wish to suffer the bliss of a long, slow, time-released death. I will not go down without a fight. I will "not go gentle into that good night". - Dylan Thomas

bright smile dark eyes...

Man is only half himself. The other half is a bright thing. He tumbles on by luck or grace, for man is ever a blind thing. Bright smile...dark eyes. Everywhere I went, I was always looking for ya, bright smile dark eyes.

If you don't know Josh Ritter, I suggest you get to know him. He's got a new album coming out in the spring. But Hello Starling is brilliant. To think...this dude's only about 26 from Moscow, Idaho. Such a good kid.

Haunted by Goethe...

I'm coming up on a year since the accident and this quote by Goethe, left by some anonymous visitor, has become one of the halmarks of this year for me. Certainly as well, it could be a halmark of my life. There are many areas of my life where I have moved with boldness(left)even in the face of fear. There are many areas where I have witnessed "the whole stream of events" that has issued from a decision to move in a direction and have been richly blessed. And there are many others where my inactivity has cuased much damage...

The decision to move towards the dream of this boat, however, was monumental. To move, with great fear, towards that which is so much bigger than me, for so much more than me, for a dream beyond my comfort, was a turning point. A crossroads. But to then witness "the whole stream of events" that issued from this decision threatened to smack of a cosmic, ironic mockery that could drive a man to despair...or drink, whichever.

I now find myself in the Epilogue of this story and as I continue to witness "the whole stream of events" that issues from this decision, I dare say this could be one of the best years of my life. Yes, ironic, but with the taste of a glorious redemption that will forever mark me. Much more than the little dent on the right side of my head.

Here is the quote already:

Until one is committed, there is a hesitancy, a chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness concerning all acts of initiative (and creation). The moment one definitely commits oneself, providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision. Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. - Goethe