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Health & Fitness

Letting go

Moments before the fatal crash I was driving along the two-lane state highway singing to the radio. A small car entered the highway from a connecting road, I saw it inching out as I approached the intersection, you know, the way cars come to a stop sign and then roll out a little to get a better view of oncoming traffic. But then it didn't come to a stop, in fact, it accelerated and I slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel to avoid the collision but it was too late, there was no place for me to go. I saw the sudden look of surprise on the other driver's face just before my car hit.

The collision caused my car to spin out of control. It was one of those moments when time slowed to a crawl. I could feel the centrifugal forces on my body, outside the windows the air seemed to be filled with dust or smoke and noise and I couldn't get my bearings, I felt my hands desperately trying to control the steering wheel which seemed to be lurching one way and then another.

"LET GO!" a voice said. I heard the voice quite plainly in my head. It was not my voice but another. I understood it to mean that I shouldn't let go of the wheel but that I should let go of trying to make sense of what was happening. I felt my body relax as the spinning slowed and then stopped. As the dust or smoke cleared, there was utter silence and miraculously I was able to undo my seat belt, get the door open and get out of the car. The other driver was not moving and I ran to a nearby house and asked them to call an ambulance. Within minutes it seems, people appeared from nowhere, fire trucks and an ambulance.

A paramedic asked me questions, he said I would be okay just to go to my regular doctor and get checked out. A patrolman asked me what happened and I started to break down, I told him the other driver just didn't stop. "Look at this" I said, pointing to the twisted wreckage of the cars, the debris in the roadway, "look at all of this" as if it was self evident and he would understand what had happened. Susan appeared too and asked me if I was okay, and my older brother who lived just a few miles away stayed with me and drove me to an urgent care.

The other driver died that day. My seat belt saved my life, a deep bluish purple bruise stretched from my left shoulder to the right side of my belly. My fingers were bloodied where they hit the windshield on impact. The emotional scars ran deeper -- the family of the other driver sued me even though the highway patrol said they had been at fault. Lawyers and depositions, insurance companies and legal documents became an unwanted part of my consciousness. My friend, Esther, told me I had to just let it unfold and so I kept my mind staid on that, on the unfolding. In the end, the suit was dismissed and I came to some inner understanding that, somehow, I was meant to be a part of this person's death, I don't know if I will ever understand why in this lifetime.

I pass by that place on the highway occasionally on trips to the desert. I always remember what happened there, though the sting of it has diminished with time. I don't know whether it was an angel who spoke to me that day or not. I do believe we have divine guidance, whether it is some greater unseen part of ourselves or angelic beings protecting us in some way, I do not know. I knew I could trust that voice and I have tried to stay true to that understanding all these many years later.

As for photographic art, I often feel led to an image, whether drawn by a tiny violin playing cherub or an earnest intuitive sense, I know not which, and I'm not certain it really matters in the end as long as I pay it heed.


Tim Bulone is an ardent observer of life on the swirling blue marble. He creates fine art and canvas prints which he likes to sell from time to time at http://www.MyFamilyArt.com He is an early morning pedestrian in Belmont Shore, where he resides with his wife and a variety of incessantly hungry pets.http://timothy-bulone.artistwebsites.com/featured/tree-angel-2-timothy-bulone.htmlhttp://

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