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Hit by a White Truck: Life-Changing Insights from My Own Brush with Death

9/28/2017

27 Comments

 
Picture
Accident Scene, M Hurwich
12 September 2017...​It wasn’t what I planned for my French countryside journey. One moment, we’re passengers in a friend’s car on a charming two-lane highway, surrounded by verdant fields, set in a blue, cloud-kissed sky. The next moment, we’re a physics experiment: the windshield fills with a white service truck, crossing our path out of nowhere. And we collide.
A loud noise. We’re smashed against our seat belts as our car careens off the road, air bags explode, and we’re showered with glass. The car comes to a stop. I can’t breathe/I can’t breathe/I can’t breathe…”this isn’t sustainable”, I think…and then I am able to breathe, just a shallow one, and another. Places in my chest move that didn’t used to. We check on each other. It smells like smoke. Somehow, I get up. We leave the car, all four of us.
 
I wonder how I can possibly be alive: two vehicles collide, each at 90 km/h? Is there purpose in this? Why were we able to “walk away” from it so relatively unscathed?
Everyone else is sitting or lying down, but I feel compelled to stand. I retrieve my glasses and camera from the car; the sneaker I hadn’t been wearing; a water bottle. I take the photo you see above. I check with my partner Gale and our friends. The gendarmes and ambulance arrive. I answer questions, and lie down when I’m directed.
* * * * *
Taken to the ER, we’re all found to have bruises and broken ribs. Gale and I also have cracked sternums—which warrants care, but not in a hospital. However, there’s also a concern about a ruptured spleen for me, so I’m admitted. It turns out that I do have internal bleeding, so I get an exploratory procedure the next morning, a repair, and remain at the hospital for a week.
 
It seems a miracle to be alive or at least not far more severely injured. Yet, especially for the first few days, each day of life is an endurance contest. I can’t wait for the day to be over so I can sleep (and I hardly sleep, pondering what did and didn't happen).
 
So why did I survive? Is there a message? Some learnings? What?
 
Here’s what’s emerged for me—offered just because, and with the intention to share the fruits of my experience. That way you might get some benefits without having to be struck by your own “white truck.”

WEAR YOUR SEATBELT!

Wear your seatbelt--even in the back. If we hadn't, you'd be ​reading an obituary. 

Notice what wants to happen

​I’m noticing a tension: well, loads of them. So much in my body isn’t back to normal. Even two weeks after the incident, I had more attention on eating and elimination than since I was a toddler. Tastes and smells are intense. A pear, a spoon of oatmeal, and water was a huge meal. When I tried to eat more, I threw it up—definitely not fun with cracked ribs. My body is being a really good teacher here!
 
But returning to “before” doesn’t feel right either. What’s the middle path?
 
It comes to me to notice what surfaces, what wants to happen.  My body is coaching me on what it does (and does not) want to eat. How it wants to sit, stand, lie down. I notice as I attend to that, my body works with me. (I just satisfied a craving for Egg Foo Young—noticing that I don’t want the portions I used to want.) It’s not about “figuring it out” either: just simply allow wisdom to surface and lead.

Trust, let go, relax, and open to kindness

PictureHospital Room View, M Hurwich
Lots of parts of me feel compelled to figure things out. But, just getting out of bed after surgery breaks me into a sweat and pain so bad I cry, even with two people helping. I need something else…and realize it’s simply letting go…relaxing into this crazy situation. That I’m ok, I’m held, I’m safe.
 
When I do, curiosity, humor, and peace come. And actually, less pain: a nurse helps others orchestrate this magic move where I’m not being pulled up or torqued. We dance my body so it flows from lying down on my back to sitting up on the edge of the bed, mostly using weight as an asset. Movement still hurts, but much less so, and I feel proud to be a part of this, especially given how we could communicate to make this happen. (It’s a small hospital in a small town, so not many of the lovely people there speak English…and I can understand some French, but it had been hard to speak.)

Hmmm. In this hospital room that's held so much pain, I notice a window beautifully open to the country-side and sky. Kindness surrounds me: my partner Gale, showering me with healing visits; Nijmah, the nurse, who speaks English and gets herself assigned to me; Annmarie and Frederic, AirBnB hosts who waive fees for the stay we skip; our friends Laurence and David, who shlep Gale around; United Airlines, who allow us to change flights with a minimal fee and add a middle seat; Marriott, who extend our stay and gift us with chocolate. Friends who brought flowers and care recommendations on our return. And on.

Your work is done. Your choices are yours: free and open

​OK, so if I’ve been gifted with more time on the planet, what am I supposed to do with it? Helping people connect to their core intention is my job, right? What about me?!!
 
I get a sense…sometimes in the reveries that pass for dreams in the first few days I can’t sleep, sometimes just what comes…that “my work is done.” And that “our work is done” is pretty much true for all of us, all the time.

Not necessarily “done” the way we mean it conventionally. It’s done in these sense that if my job were to let go of a pebble I’d been holding, and I let go and the pebble is just about to leave my fingers yet hasn’t yet struck the floor…I'm done. I don’t have to “do” anything. I’m just on the planet to be here a few more laps, to enjoy life, to see what strikes my sense of desire for engagement, and to engage that.
 
Not out of obligation. Simply grace, and (again) noticing what’s important to me.
 
And with that frame—there’s nothing I HAVE to do, what am I curious to engage with?—things emerge. For example, my older son just started his first year of residency, so we’ve been on the phone more than we otherwise would have. It’s been delightful to experience his competence and compassion and humor (me: “wow, we’ve been talking so much I’m coughing a lot; how about we break off?” Andy: “sure Dad, and as someone you’ve been asking medical questions of I’m happy to stay on longer so you can have even more productive coughs, too.”)  My younger son, as well—who had his own near near-death experience in college, so the ironies of our role reversal add even more spice to our conversations.
 
Doing “a” blog…nah, not really. Getting something on paper about this experience that becomes a blog? Yes.
 
Hmmm, there’s those people in Ecuador and Guatemala that touched my heart on my travels there. I’d said I wanted to move forward with some of that, but hadn’t; I realized in part because I hadn’t figured out the best way to do that. Now, it feels more important, and I have more trust that something will emerge; I reach out.

And I find myself recommitting to work in the corporate environment--enabling organizations to nourish heart and soul, not just minds and hands, as an avenue to even better results. "Coincidentally" I'd helped sponsor and am speaking at the Love Summit in Cincinnati on 12 October--a great venue to do this. Join me!!!
 
It comes to me that every day is a new day. I already have all the license I need to reconfirm old choices, or make new ones. But that white truck really underscored the freedom I had and wasn’t exercising. It’s not about satisfying obligation. It is about noticing what’s important and relaxing into it with trust the next step will come.

It's safe to play. Explore "unreasonable" possibilities

Paradoxically, I start to notice this sense of safety. It invites me to let go of “work,” and open to play instead...to explore the unreasonable. For example, somehow for the half hour coming out of anesthesia I felt fluent chatting with the nurses there, both comprehension and speech. On reflection, I suspect my merry chatting mostly came from feeling safe and suppressed inhibitions. There's a lesson there!
PictureBoat in Monet's Lily Pond, M Hurwich
How to apply that lesson? For me, travel is about insight-creating experience more than agenda--so my "itinerary adjustment" was ok. But even so, Gale and I had wanted to visit Giverny and the lily pond that Monet captured so stunningly. It didn’t seem that was going to happen. I was still barely mobile, Gale had injuries too. But why not see if we could make it possible? I added a day to our airport hotel, and arranged a rental car. The morning of our “Giverny option” I woke up feeling way better than I had on any prior day, so I could drive. Gale and I both went! It was beautiful and we returned well-spent.
 
More and more, I get a sense that our “work” isn’t about doing some specific thing. In the spring, Gale and I shared a day with near-death experience researcher and experiencer P.M.H. Atwater. She examined 4,000 situations where people not only suffered a life-threatening event, but were clinically dead for a while (one as long as three days). While many reported similar experiences of leaving their body, seeing lights, knowing it wasn’t time to go home yet, etc., only 10% got a specific indication of what their return was about. None got a job description.
 
Increasingly, I’m convinced that our “job” is about opening to joy and grace, that it’s safe to express ourselves in human form, and that playing with what delightfully calls us is our “work” as humans. The more open we are, and the more possible forms we invite for that expression, the better. It's almost as important to keep alive that you'll write a book (if you want to) as to write it.

And, speaking of which, see Gale's complementary viewpoint on this experience in her blog, here, to learn more about "relaxed urgency" for what's really important.

* * * * *

Every disruption has the potential to be a gift. What's your "white truck?"

So, it strikes me (pun intended) that there was a gift in the collision with that white truck. It feels like my life is full, maybe even because of some of the pain and loss I experienced. I feel happier to be alive. I feel embraced and supported by the universe. I feel more empowered to explore what I want and ask for it. I feel lucky. I feel in love—and love myself. I’m sure we would have had deep and enriching experiences on this trip without the collision…but it wouldn’t be the same.
 
I was sharing this experience in a men’s circle last week. My friends observed how amazing it was to find so much benefit out of a harrowing experience that few would seek out. A little later, another man was talking about a situation that was very painful for him. I asked him if maybe that was his “white truck”—something really disruptive that also had the potential to create the energy for a greater change. It got him thinking.
 
So, in your life: is there something you really want to do, but aren’t sure about, and haven’t really given yourself permission to explore? How might things shift if, out of nowhere, you got hit by a white truck? What would you allow yourself then?

Or, is there already something really, really difficult in your life that might be that "white truck" already? How can you see it a different way, so you can allow its magic to unfold and transform?

Or, perhaps you've already had your own "white truck" experiences. If so, feel free to share them in the comments below--especially what shifts your event emboldened, enabled, and encouraged. What was it about your experience that gave you permission to move?
 
Hugs.
27 Comments
Meryl
9/29/2017 09:23:57 am

I am inspired by your experience, Mark. What a beautiful way to integrate such a life-changing and initially scary experience! I can feel all the space just by reading your words, and a very palpable sense of liberation. Enjoy this new freedom to "be".

Reply
Marianna
10/2/2017 02:00:15 pm

Dear Mark and Gale,
I am so sorry to hear about the accident!
I hope you guys will feel better soon!

Reply
Judy Sachs
10/2/2017 07:31:17 pm

Incredible Mark! I'm so joyful that the universe was not finished with you and Gale and gifted us with more time with you both! Amazing recollection and so insightful "It’s not about satisfying obligation. It is about noticing what’s important and relaxing into it with trust the next step will come." it's a call for all of us to listen to ourselves and give ourselves permission to become 'more'.

Reply
Gail Rector
9/29/2017 10:13:32 am

Mark you have taken a life altering event and turned it into something for all of us to learn from. You are a special person with a beautiful gift you happily share. Thank you my friend, and I am so happy you are healing and doing so well.

Reply
Judy
9/29/2017 04:40:06 pm

Mark, don't know if you have loved yourself before this experience, so glad you love yourself now. As for describing your experience, glad it was an eye opener for you and Gale. It tells all of us not to take life for granted, any part of it. Happy you continuing to heal and grow from this experience.

Reply
Mark Hurwich link
9/30/2017 05:12:11 am

Meryl, Gail, and Judy--sweet to know this inspired insight! For me, I'm not sure anything positive was present after the white truck that wasn't present before...but somehow, the connection got deeper, richer, and with more access to it and "permission" to leverage it moving forward. And, of course, there have been other "white truck" experiences that in hindsight I realize I could have used even more.

What have your "white trucks" been? How have they encouraged and empowered you?

Reply
Jackie
9/30/2017 08:27:25 am

Wow, Mark. Beautiful post! Thank you. Very touching. (..Sounds like the beginning of a book.... ;>)

I've been thinking of you and Gale. Terribly sorry you were so seriously injured - both of you. Blessings to you!

Reply
Sherle Stevens link
9/30/2017 07:25:17 pm

Mark, this is beautiful, touching and important. I'm eager to share it. And so happy for your healing💕

Reply
nijma
10/2/2017 02:36:12 am

Bonjour Mark
Ravie de vous avoir lue, très beau parcours de vie...
Vous êtes un exemple pour tous

Reply
Mark Hurwich link
10/2/2017 05:33:31 am

Merci Nijmah. Vous créez un bel exemple, aussi!

Reply
Kathleen Giese Skoller link
10/2/2017 10:18:16 am

Thank you Mark for your beautiful reflection, showing each of us how to deepen into what life offers. I especially appreciate your comments about freedom. We who have enough, have so much to be grateful for – so much freedom: to heal after a terrifying event, taken care of by loving health care providers; freedom to reflect on deeper choices, without focus on survival needs. Thank you for telling this story of transition after your "white truck".

Reply
Chuck Silverstein link
10/2/2017 02:10:18 pm

Wow, Mark, there were sections that brought a tear - very moving. And also, as several have mentioned, your ability to immediately look for the lessons. And encouraging us to do the same. It brings home the famous line of Chaucer about the Student: And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach. You and Gale are both deep students and gifted teachers. But beyond all that, so glad that you and Gale are ok and healing. love, Chuck

Reply
Mark Hurwich link
10/3/2017 06:36:14 pm

Well, glad we survived too! And could create something from it.

See Gale's blog, too--a different and complementary perspective:
http://www.sacredmoneymastery.com/2017/10/4/big-white-truck/

I especially love Gale's insight about "relaxed urgency."

Reply
linda Kroll link
10/4/2017 07:57:16 am

Thank you, Mark, for your beautiful inspiration on how to take our "white trucks' into our own UPS delivery system of living life with more joy and ease. Your wonderful sharing is a testament to your heart and soul and the love you share with Gale and the world. I hope you're both fully recovered and that you'll feel like dancing at the IFS conference soon. Sending love to you both, Linda xo

Reply
Patty
10/4/2017 09:11:52 am

Thank you, Mark, for sharing your experience with such honesty. I feel like your voice could be my voice in that situation. If you will be at the IFS conference, I would love to connect. So glad you and Gale are okay.

Reply
Arthur link
10/4/2017 06:39:54 pm

Extraordinarily beautiful, Mark. I should like to think anybody could derive such insights from such dire circumstances, but your story so vividly reflects your distinct wisdom, body knowledge (I'm thinking of your doing yoga on the golf course), empathy and pleasure in living fully. We both call it grace.

Reply
Angela link
10/4/2017 07:07:57 pm

Mark, Thank you for sharing this harrowing and life changing experience with with us, with me...and for taking the time to describe and distill it so vividly. I found it nourishing and thought provoking...and I'm grateful, always, for more spiritual insight. I wish the best to you in the healing journey you're on. Best and love, Angela

Reply
Jon Rice
10/5/2017 06:17:43 am

Mark,

We met last year at the IFS conference, and talked about Guatemala.... I'm thankful you and Gale are ok and it's amazing that after all of that, you can write and share what you have been experiencing. Many blessings, and I'm sure you have connections already - and if it helps more, my local church organization, Presbyterians, have a long standing partnership with the Presby's in Guatemla.
Jon

Reply
Heidi Thorne link
10/5/2017 06:47:43 am

Oh Mark! I'm so glad to hear you and Gale are okay, and that you've been able to make some sense of the whole ordeal. I'm thinking this incident will be an inspiration for much more than just this blog post. Please, both of you, take care and take time to heal! I'll have you in my thoughts.

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Ken Coscia link
10/5/2017 08:29:29 am

Mark and Gail, I am so happy to hear that you're alive and recovering! Mark, your story is full of insights, inspiration and lessons for us all to learn from. You're a genuine spirit of love and joy peppered with a commitment to learn and grow

Reply
Mark Hurwich link
10/5/2017 08:57:53 am

Thanks, Patty, Art, and Angela--and to many others who emailed as well. To Answer some questions many of you had:

HOW ARE YOU NOW? DO YOU NEED ANY HELP?
3 weeks post accident, digestion is pretty much back to normal, and there are some residual aches and pains from cracked ribs/sternum/bruised tailbone that I'm told to expect another month or so to completely resolve. Also normal. That makes it hard to sleep sometimes, and I sit on a "donut"--but I'm getting around and increasingly back to usual daily activities. Walking a lot. I did a yoga class (gently!) the other day. Sure beats the alternative!

ARE YOU GETTING CARE?
Especially the first week back, I was getting some kind of care modality every day. Seeing my MD (who's an integrative physician). Acupuncture/Hypnosis for pain/stress/any residual trauma. And I'm now a big fan of CST (cranial sacral therapy): following the first session, my appetite restrictions (couldn't eat much more than a pear) dissolved; that's helped with discomfort, too.

HOW IS IT POSSIBLE IT WASN'T MORE SEVERE?

The "physics" answer is that I believe our car and the truck intersected in a way that caused the least abrupt deceleration possible. The truck came from our left. Yet, in the picture, it's facing the opposite direction it came from. I believe the strike was at the left front of our car, right front of the truck...so we imparted a lot of our energy to it by flipping it 180 degrees around (and over on its side), and it only imparted enough energy to us to cause us to deviate maybe 20 degrees to the right from the direction we were going (not a lot of torquing, no rolling). If the strike had been milliseconds earlier or later, either the truck would have T-boned us (we'd be dead), or us it (abrupt stop, we'd be dead).

The "metaphysics answer:" it felt like we were being protected. Maybe we were!

Love you all for asking. HUGS!

Reply
Carol Garfinkle link
10/7/2017 05:30:12 pm

You are an inspiration! I am relieved to hear how well you and Gale are recovering with the care you are seeking out and receiving. You add so much joy and wisdom to the world. Thank you for sharing yourselves,
Warmly,
Carol

Reply
Jay Fischer link
10/8/2017 05:35:12 pm

I hope you and Gale are well on your ways to healing Mark. It takes more than a 'white truck' to knock Mark Hurwich off his game. Talk to you, Jay

Reply
Peggy McElgunn link
10/11/2017 11:42:56 am

More than anything, I am thankful you and Gale are fine. Your post is remarkable, inspirational and teaching. As always, I am appreciative of your many gifts. Be well!

Reply
Becky Kaiser
10/14/2017 03:17:56 pm

I still have a lot to learn from you, Mark. I'm glad you're alive.

Reply
Mark Hurwich link
11/2/2017 10:20:00 am

Susie Beiler just completed a film about life-awakening experiences. Its mission is to support those newly awakening: they're not alone; there are others like them. I'm one of many people interviewed. If you're curious to explore it, the trailer is here:
https://youtu.be/5j6Bv0Eu2OE

The full video is here:
https://youtu.be/MbqpnoL1vVE

Reply
Mark Hurwich link
11/15/2017 02:20:53 pm

On reflection, I think maybe the most useful and important insight is to WEAR YOUR SEATBELT, EVEN IN THE BACK. If we hadn't, I doubt we would have survived.

Just added it to the first observation in the blog.

Reply



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