Fall Down, Wake Up!

Last week, my son celebrated his 12th birthday, and I took him and four friends to the local roller rink for some in-line skating fun. I hadn't roller skated in a long time. I'm a sedentary worker, programmer by trade, so I had some reservations about getting out in the rink myself, tempted to hide behind my laptop.

As a young person, my sibings and I went roller skating often enough that I had gotten fairly good at it. No backwards skating or anything particularly artful, but I could skate fast and at least not fall down! So my inner kid decided we would go roller-skating on this, my own son's 12th birthday.

Tentatively, I got out there just minutes after my son did, and within a short time I had regained my sea legs and remembered how to fire all those neurons in such a way that I could whiz around the rink at a decent clip, navigating the sea of children, likely the oldest person on eight wheels in the building.

Probably an hour later, after having managed to avoid causing any pain for myself or any other skater, I had that fatal moment of self-consciousness. "Wow, I haven't fallen down at all. Not bad." I found a little pride, having enjoyed some side-by-side skating with my son minutes ago. Well, no sooner had I thought that, when a lanky and careening young boy of probably nine or ten "came out of nowhere" and took us both tumbling to the ground.

What a moment.

Yes, I got mad. Well, just internally. He didn't mean to hurt me or knock me down. But it was interesting to watch the ego go off! "He interrupted my smooth flying moment! I had a perfect record until this kid came along! Watch where you're going!" Fortunately, all that came out of my mouth was, "It's okay, I'm alright," I assured him. He was mortified he had brought me down.

I've had an opportunity to reflect on this all week long, as the fall on my hip threw out my 43 year old spine and gave me a bruse the size of a walnut on my hip that took three days to make it to the surface of my skin. The pain was so bad at times, I felt like I was 80 years old. I wish I had a walker a few times.

OK, so end of story, start of contemplation. Physically falling down is one of the most interesting social/psychological moments humans can have. In that moment, all that we are in the world, all we know how to do, all the great accomplishments we might boast disappear in that long moment between when we realize we are going to fall and when we actually hit the ground. In that moment, we meet all other humans in an experience as universal as breathing or getting ill. Our core reflexes take over and our brain attempts to prevent as much bodily damage that it can.

Perhaps it is just me, but I think there's a huge emotional charge around falling down that we never talk about. In fact, falling is generally portrayed as 'funny', and physical comedians have used the pratfall since the beginning to make an audience laugh. But when real people have real falls, most of us gasp inside, and if we happen to be near them, we instinctively, reflexively reach out to help them NOT fall.

I have never seen, and don't think I could handle seeing my either of my parents fall down. It just gives me this odd, internal grief imaginging it. No, it breaks that mythic image of parental stability and coordination. Beyond just our parents, I wonder why we so rarely see 'important' people fall down: our teachers, our civic leaders, our religious figures. Yet, I imagine many of them have. But to imagine, say, Jesus falling down for any reason just seems blasphemous. As blasphemous as having to imagine one of my parents fall down (especially if I had happened to have a friend at my home at the time).

I think falling has something to do with our pride. For some reason, we all agree that falling down is Bad, and is to be avoided. If you are falling, something has "done it to you" because who would ever choose to fall down? So we have great expressions in our language like, to fall from grace, fall into a depression, take the fall for someone, fall ill, fall from power, and fallen woman, to name just a few.

But, as a dharma walker, I have to say that falling down is a great moment to wake up just a little more! It's the litmus test to see how much compassion you REALLY have. How clear your mind REALLY is. Because, in an unexpected fall (especially out in public, if you are fortunate to fall there) will show you your core feelings about yourself, about your ego and how it cares so much about its appearance of balance and grace.

The physical fall is the best, because there is no denying that it has happened, and there is more or less total loss of control in that few moments. But other 'falls' are great places for growth as well.

Like those very private moments when we 'fall short' of our own ideals, and take an action or find ourselves reacting in a way that does not reflect our wisdom. We can still cultivate compassion in those moments. Rather than beat ourselves up for being so "dharmically clumsy," we can take a breath, maybe a little smile, notice we have "fallen down" and recall that falling down is a more or less universal human experience. Not good, not bad, and not a reflection on who you really are at all. Hopefully, we learn something new. We gain a litle more coordination, like a toddler learning to walk (didn't Jesus say something about "being as little children"?). Certainly, if we still hear those all-too-familiar voices of inner critic, or that anger at one's self hammering away (or projected onto some outer conditions), it's a wonderful opportunity, really. Take that fall into contemplation/practice and explore all the ins and outs of falling down and waking up, a dharmic practice experienced by all the buddhas before us, and I'd say after as well.