When You’re Friends, You’re Friends

Hi, Boomers,

Turns out all my worry and loss over losing my friend was for nothing.  Wouldn’t you know.  I jumped the gun.  Oh, ye, of little faith.  My so-called lost friend wasn’t lost.  He sent me an email the next day – after I had sent him and email – and I didn’t get it until Monday when I landed at LAX from Vegas and the grandchildren visit.  There it was  on my phone.  A brilliant and tender email to me with an apology because the email was caught in a file that was too big at his office and it didn’t get to me because he didn’t know it was held up.  The universe was playing tricks with me.  The universe was testing my grit.  I think I failed that test.  Wow!  I had to forgive myself over and over again.

I think the universe tests us all the time.  By the universe I means the energy that surrounds us inside and outside – or forces of right and wrong/good and evil.  The game of winners and losers hanging over us.  But, if you’re a yogini like me, that whole paradigm has no significance.  My master teacher said to us:  “It’s all good.”  What could possibly matter that one wins or one loses/ one possess good or evil.  Intent is all that matters.  My intention is what brings me joy.  My intention is what brought my friend back to me and me to him.  We had the same intention: not to lose each other in the fracas of life and its limits.  Well done.  Bravo for the two of us because we learned something valuable.  We cannot ever lose love in the universe.  Impossible to lose that gift.  Impossible.

Over the weekend, Sunday to be exact, the universe tested me again.  I was with another very good friend – one of the people who bring joy and love to my life – and we went hiking.  One the way down from a fabulous hike, I turned to tell him inconsequential and I slipped off the path.  My right shoe caught in the dirt so I didn’t tumble down the hill and my left knee came down on a rock – a small rock – but it ripped open the skin below my kneecap and a tornado of blood gushed from my leg.  I was very,very present at that moment, as I looked oh, so briefly at the damage to my knee.  Kneecap still in tact.  Femur not damaged.  Shin good.  I looked at my right hand that landed in the dirt and there were no scratches,nothing broken.

I felt huge positive energy around me as I was helped up by my friend.  Just then two mountain bikers came up to us.  They had no inner tube to stop the bleeding.  My friend took his t-shirt off and ripped the bottom off and tired it very tightly around my knee area.  One of the bikers told me to elevate my leg.  In a matter of seconds, I clotted and the bleeding stopped.  He asked me if I was in shock.  I didn’t think so because I could account for everything that was going on.  Five minutes later, I got up to walk.  They had already contacted emergency 911 and before I knew it a helicopter was hovering above us.

This was too much drama for me.  In the past, in former actress times, I could be a drama queen but yoga knocked that out of me.  I was calm, present and accounted for and I was going to walk down to the road where the medical guys would eventually come.  That was at least a mile and a half to walk but for some strange reason the pain was not apparent.  I suppose that is a sign of shock but I really felt compelled to complete my journey that morning.

Of course, when the 3 gorgeous fireman came walking up the hill toward me, I thought I must  be in a movie.  My friend said with a dead pan face:  “She’s okay now, guys.  The good looking crew showed up.”  Couldn’t argue with him there.  They fixed me up and we walked – or perhaps I limped –  the rest of the way down to the emergency vehicles.

Three hours  in the emergency at UCLA urgent care and I was stitched up and good to go.  Nineteen in all.  Big gash.  Very ugly.  No plastic surgery.  Perhaps I got a knee lift.  But then I would have to get the other knee lifted.  We watched golf for 3 hours but even that boring of all boring games was a treat for me.  I was just panting for a martini by the time I got out.  I love those guys at UCLA emergency. They have always been the most uplifting, funny and dedicated group of people I have ever met.  I always feel safe with them.

When my son asked me today if I cried at all, I said didn’t shed a tear.  “Wow,” he said.  “Your friend must have been impressed.”  Not really.  But there was a common meeting of the minds like real friends have, a devotion like pals forever in life have, like there will never be anything that will come between us, ever.  Friends mean safety.  Friends me comfort.  Friends mean trust.  Friends mean unconditional love.

I’m the luckiest girl on the planet today.



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