We all live with some form of pain from time to time, be it physical or emotional (and I imagine there is an incredible range of all types of pain, but for me, they all come back to these two: physical or emotional).

For most of my life, I’ve been free of physical pain. Sure, I’ve had bouts of this and that like everyone. Such as? Such as: cramps so severe that I needed to be brought to the university infirmary on a stretcher. There were also occasional ear pokes due to an inherited condition which called for several ear surgeries (in order to be able to hear), but overall, I’ve lived a pain free life.

Until this past February.

On one of the most fun days I’ve had in the past several years (while sliding down a small mountain of white), I dodged a person standing atop a narrow entrance way, landing on my right shoulder with all my weight and with all the force of a quick turn.

“That wasn’t a bad fall,” he said, after a quick apology.

Me?

I stayed quiet and smiled a weak smile. Though I landed on a pile of deep snow, I could tell something was amiss. Body part by body part, I surveyed the situation. Toes? Can wiggle. Legs? Intact. (My skis were still on, as well.) Head and neck? All good. Right shoulder? Voila! I found the source of pain that was starting to creep into my arm and digits.

I smiled.

I can still ski !!!

Gingerly, and rather awkwardly, I pulled myself back up. All alone atop the ski run (the day dreamer had left), I once again scanned my body.

I think I can do this.

So down the mountain I happily skied, while staying upright.

I delighted in 22 more ski runs that day.

Oh, how I love to ski and too many years had passed since I’d been at a ski resort.

This one in North Carolina was completely new to me, a small mountain in the southeast, nothing grand compared to what I’d experienced previously in the Rockies—but a mountain with snow, nonetheless.

I was in heaven.

Until the time arrived to walk to my van while carrying my skis and boots. Once back at my temporary home, I tried to rest and eventually sleep. Thank goodness for a pharmaceutical I had with me!

Fast forward to four months later. I’ve seen a doctor several times, am having physical therapy and continue to do her recommended stretches—as well as going swimming with Honu and tropical fish, albeit in an “old woman” kind of way, doing the breaststroke rather than my beloved crawl. Still, I smile and celebrate having a body.

So . . . will this labral tear turned into a frozen shoulder ever heal? Will I be able to swim freestyle again? Live without physical pain?

I have no idea. I’m told I will, but I really don’t know. I’ll just keep taking it moment-by-moment, trusting. Something good is always hiding in every experience.

Like what, Sj?

Like lots of things. I’ll make a list:

1. Because of this injury I’ve been able to continue my French language learning (a great go-to when I realized I couldn’t work on my second book while being in such pain. Language learning has been a solace my entire life.)

2. I finally found a great program for learning French that addresses the nuances of SPOKEN French. Ch’ui très contente !!! Not, je suis très contente like I was always taught. That’s just for written French or for when reading out loud. The French really say: ch’ui, sounds like chwee to us. And yes, I’m very happy (about finding this platform).

3. I met a most wonderful young woman who lives on the other side of the states, on another island where they speak French. We’ve spent about 3-hours per week (these past 3-months) conversing in French and/or English, albeit mostly in French. There’s an easy and organic flow as we switch back and forth between languages. We’re also finding that we can assist one another in even more life changing ways (in addition to the simple language learning). It’s been one of the best things I’ve experienced in my long life. Mahalo Ke Akua.

So, how can I not celebrate that “accident” on the mountain? How can I not recognize, once again, how all of life is only ever happening for me?

“Born alone, we die alone. And alone, we shall find peace.”

sj hylton lehoven — this 6^th of june 2023

Thank you for reading my blog post. It’s been ages since I’ve felt the nudge to write publicly. The COVID-19 pandemic awoke my not so secret hermit self. I do continue to travel—I spent 3-months in Europe last Fall—but I haven’t felt the urge to post photos. However, having just said that, I do think I will share some graffiti pictures I took while in Paris. I had so much fun snapping shot after shot of compelling street art. And if I do this, I believe it would be best to do before heading south for a month—to an entirely new part of the world (for me).

Time will tell.

In the meantime, I wish you all well as you experience your own type of pain. May gifts hide in plain sight.

Aloha,

*** Sj ***

The illustration is by Jocelyne Champagne Shiner.

Here’s a Honu link that takes you to a fun short video about Honu!