My next lectures were scheduled, my next workshop was being filled, my first book was being translated to foreign languages, the second book was sent to the editor, I scheduled meetings for the coming month, and more. And then I had an accident while doing the thing I love most – I crashed my dirt-bike on a Saturday ride with friends.
The first second on the ground, I thought that in a minute I'll pick myself up and stand up. But my mind already knew, this was not just another fall when I flew off the bike and stand up, hurt but also a little proud. This time I felt it, like in slow motion, how my leg turn in the direction it's not supposed to, how the bone breaks during a fall. Once in one direction and another direction the second time, as the motorcycle landed on top of me. "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" that was my only thought. This isn't real, it's not happening to me, not now. I was supposed to pick up the girls that day, and we were invited to dinner that evening with friends. I had a million meetings and phone calls the next day, and I have my workshop on Friday. This is not happening to me! Not now!
Well, it did.
I laid on the ground and concentrated on breathing. I gave instructions in the ambulance. In the emergency room, I began to scream. And by the time I was on the way to surgery, I allowed myself to cry.
You probably know the well-known saying, "Man plans, and God laughs". I was not laughing. I had goals, ideas, schedules, all integrated into an organized work plan. And No! I was not supposed to spend the next few months in a wheelchair, physical therapy, check-ups at the hospital, dressing the wounds while desperately trying to understand, technically, how to take my cup of boiling coffee from the kitchen to the living room while spinning the wheels of my wheelchair. The injury was my lighthouse. Between taking a pill for my pain and devastating cry of frustration, I had to understand.
Why did it happen? Why me? What good can come out of all my plans go wrong? And what lesson am I supposed to learn from all this? Maybe there is no lesson and bad things just happen sometimes? But more importantly, how do I get over this lighthouse and still remain true to my personal calling? It did not happen quickly. The understanding that things could have been worse came rather quickly: The fact that the injury could have been much worse, that worse had happened to others, and that it is temporary. But before that, I felt guilty and frustrated over the loss of control. I didn't plan the injury and I spent experiencing a total loss of control in the months that followed. Only control freaks like me will understand why imposed "time-off" is no fun; why the fact that others are doing everything for me did not make me happy. The total dependence was awful. I'm the type of person who doesn't ask "What will happen?" I decide what will happen. I don't ask "What shall I do?" I decide how to do it. That's me, I'm calculated, organized, updated and especially I decide what will happen and how.
The guilt came out of the fact that I was injured on the dirt-bike outdoors in the field. I did not get hit in an accident in the street, I did not slip in the bath, I did not fall down the stairs, I did not stumble on the sidewalk, a ladder didn't fall on me (in the orthopedic ward at the hospital, one learns all sorts of stupid ways to break parts of the body). Riding dirt-bike is my passion. I love to ride with close friends on my day off, and I crashed. I didn't choose to get injured. But I chose the dirt-bike and the sense of emotional transcendence that came with it. I chose to enjoy. In many cases, when we choose to have fun and do things just for ourselves, it is accompanied by guilt. But I decided that I'm allowed to do so. I am allowed to choose one place in my life where it's only me. A single place where I am not a life coacher, I'm not a therapist, I'm not a mother, I'm not a wife, I don't have to hold no one's hand or wipe their tears. I don't clean. I don't have to do things, I don't ask others to do, and I don’t work. I'm just riding. And O-M-G how much I enjoy it! I am allowed.
I didn't choose to be injured, but if I am to get injured, at least it's on the dirt-bike. Where I allow myself, indulge myself, take care of myself, love myself. Like rock stars who wish to die on stage or mountaineers who prefer to die at the top of the mountain. That's what I prefer, if I was destined to get hurt, it better be on the motorbike (or underneath it), and not on the street, in the bath, on the stairs, the sidewalk or under a ladder.
During the long recovery, I received countless emotional and heartfelt emails and phone calls. People who were my trainees in the past and in the present, others who participated in my lectures, people who read my books or my columns. All of them wanted to cheer me up. They told me how I influenced their lives, they talked about their success, and how they are living their personal calling and realizing themselves, or at least are on the way towards it. They wished me to return to my work soon. These lovely people really helped me a lot. They helped me rise above my self-pity, replace the harsh feelings and give way to actions. I decided that this lighthouse, which forces me to take a break, physically forces me to sit down, keeps me from running around from one meeting to another, from a lecture to a workshop, is allowing me to pause, examine, think about the components of my CALL, and it enabled me to write the guide to find your personal calling: Capabilities, Areas of interest, Life experience and Life dream. My talents, my life experience, my desires and the vision I have for my life, which composes the unique singular individual that is me.
The timeout I received enabled me to organize the knowledge and experience I have gained in recent years, organize it, return to the amazing success stories and other stories that inspired me, and make it all into a practical method called life architecture, with very specific milestones and steps, so you can also navigate your way and find your personal calling and create a practical work plan for your success.
I look forward to writing your success story with you.