I remember the first time it happened.
My friend Cory and I were on a hike and took a detour. I was scrambling over rocks near the edge of the trail when one, unsteady, tipped me toward the edge. It happened so fast.
Suddenly other rocks shifted and I was falling.
I didn’t even have time to call out.
I landed hard about three meters down in another tumble of boulders and hunched up, trying to avoid the rocks falling around me.
When everything stopped, agony in my left leg almost made me black out. I looked down and saw something poking out through my shin which was at a weird angle. Was that bone?
I couldn’t catch my breath, the pain was so bad.
All I could do was breathe … and all my insides poured out of me, rising up to the Father in agony, crying inarticulately for help.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Oh it hurt!!
Suddenly the pain eased.
I could breathe.
My muscles unclenched and my body relaxed.
“What…?”
I hadn’t realized my eyes were closed, but they must have been because I opened them. Everything looked … different. Clearer. Bright edges lined everything my eyes touched as if it was all limned in light. The rocks I lay among were more solid than anything I’d ever experienced – and beautiful. Whatever made them up glistened and sparkled as if they were precious jewels – yet I could see they were still granite and basalt.
A tuft of grass below me was an amazingly vibrant green, each blade glowing with life and vitality.
I glanced up. The sky was the most gorgeous turquoise-y blue I’d ever imagined. Like Caribbean waters I’d seen pictures of.
And it was quiet.
So quiet.
No. Soft sounds … like whispers … as if the rocks and grass around me were peacefully murmuring.
“Strange,” I said. My voice didn’t intrude. Yet it sounded nicer – more melodic – than I knew it to be.
I shook my head and looked at my leg.
Something was happening.
The bone that had poked through the skin was moving … going back inside.
My mouth fell open. Maybe I had a concussion? Maybe I was dreaming? Was I going crazy?
No. The bones were moving. And it didn’t hurt.
I watched them pull in. They re-aligned and my leg, which had been bent at an unnatural angle, moved back into place. Something was happening inside. Muscles re-knitting. Veins and arteries rejoining. Then the skin closed. I watched as the ragged, torn edges the bones had torn through, lined up and sort of grew together. A jagged scar showed the place – then it too faded. Only the blood that had run down my calf from the injury and dripped onto the rocks beneath was left.
My leg had no sign anything had happened. Except for the drying blood.
I stared at it.
What had just happened?
Eventually I carefully stood up, making sure the rocks under me didn’t tip.
I took a deep breath as I looked around.
The air was sweet. Pure. Crystal clear. Refreshing. I’d never tasted such air.
What was this place?
Faintly I heard a voice. “Ari! Where are you? Ari?”
It sounded near and so far away all at the same time. Like it was coming from another room through a thick door. But there was no door. No room. Just this tumble of rocks and boulders below the trail.
Cory.
It must be Cory, worried about me.
I don’t know why – my heart knew something I didn’t in that place – I breathed out a, “Thank You.”
The air moved around me, a breeze like a warm hug.
The world kind of shimmered. For a moment the air thickened and blurred around me – then everything shifted. And I was back where I’d fallen. The air was heavier, less fragrant. The rocks were just rocks. The grass a rather faded little clump struggling to grow in the thin soil between boulders. The sky an ordinary blue.
My leg? It was whole and healthy, with a thin trail of drying blood on it.
I heard someone scrambling over rocks, and Cory’s frantic voice. “Ari! Ari, where are you? Are you all right? Ari!”
“Here,” I called. My voice was it’s normal timbre. But, oh, I felt good! Rejuvenated. Fresh. So full of energy and my whole being felt light and wonderful. I had no idea what had happened, could barely remember the agony of my leg breaking. But I was grateful.
Cory’s head appeared above me on the trail, eyes worried. “What happened? Are you ok? You just disappeared over the edge.”
“I’m … good,” I said, moving carefully up the rocks. When I was in reach, I grabbed Cory’s hand and scrambled up the last couple feet.
“I saw you fall,” he said. “I couldn’t reach you in time.”
“How far back were you?”
“About five meters.”
I frowned. Surely he must have been a lot further back? He would have been a couple seconds behind. Yet, my experience must had lasted at least half an hour, surely. Unless … time lapse? No, that was impossible. But so was spontaneous healing of seriously broken bones.
I tried to tell Cory what had happened. Not surprisingly, he couldn’t understand what I was saying. He thought I’d hit my head and hallucinated. Had I?
I decided to keep my experience to myself after that. If Cory didn’t believe me, it was a given no one else would.
The blood still on my leg – with no evidence of a scratch or other source – made him consider believing me. But it wasn’t enough.
“Look,” I said, pointing. “There’s a whole lot more blood on that rock where I fell. See it?”
He frowned, hesitated, then shook his head. “You’re telling me you, what, kinda fell into another dimension or something? And your leg healed all by itself? I don’t know, Ari. It’s too weird. But, um, maybe we should just go back now.”
I sighed. He didn’t get it. But I couldn’t blame him because, really, neither did I.
Like I said, I remember that day clearly.
It was the first time.
But not the last.
