It has been a wild couple of weeks. Kayla overheated a few weeks ago and that really turned things topsy-turvy. And while there is a post coming up about that intense situation, today I was reminded about falling down.
There are lots of ways we fall down. Sometimes we are tripped by someone or something. Sometimes it's because we just don't have the strength to go on. Sometimes we're knocked down forcefully by the world around us. Sometimes we fall because of our own foolishness or stupidity.
Last March, I fell in the Grand Canyon (not literally inTO the Grand Canyon, but at the Grand Canyon.) I was even wearing my sturdy hiking boots! That fall was unpredictable, it blindsided me. Just one uneven stone and down I went. In front of dozens of other people who wanted to gaze upon the majesty and beauty around them. I turned an ugly shade of pale white (so I'm told) and had to stick my head between my knees because of the intense pain. My pride stung from it. I wondered why I had to fall basically while walking, when I'd just been jumping from rock to rock and hiking all over the place? And then, I had to get OUT of the Canyon. With a severely sprained ankle. (Yeah, that was fun.)
Then in September, I took another tumble. (No, I am not normally this clumsy, but thanks for asking.) Only this time, I was attending a professional writer's conference. Assisting a friend of mine, I was walking backward out of an elevator when my heel caught in the little groove between the elevator car and the actual floor of the hotel story we stayed on. This time, however, I was in a business jacket and skirt and three inch heels. Pretty picture, huh?
There was one big difference between the second fall and the first. (And I'm not talking about footwear.) The second time, I was willing to sacrifice all pride and decorum to protect my ankle. I didn't care who saw me. I didn't care how ungraceful I looked. The only thing I could think about was making sure I didn't injure that ankle again. It took months for it to heal the first time--I wasn't going to go through that again if I could help it.
I fell down.
But, I learned something.
And surprisingly, I wasn't hurt at all. My friends laughed with me, and I'm sure it gave them quite a sight and story to tell others, but the end result was an un-injured ankle.
My point? Every time we fall down, literally or figuratively, we can learn something from it. Yeah, yeah, you might want to get angry and blame everyone or everything for the fall. But, what good does that do? How does that really matter? Once you've fallen, you've fallen. It's not like you can change the past. What matters is what you do AFTER you fall.
Are you going to sit around on the ground and cry and whine about how the fall was not your fault? About how horrible it is on the ground? About how hard it will be to get back up?
Will you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, bandage the wounds, and face the future with an appreciation for falling down--and the beautiful chance to get up. Begin again. Keep going.
Life is an adventure full of learning. Don't dwell in the past. Think positive. Look forward.