Surrender Dorothy!

by Melissa Howden of Fifty Is The New

Just as Dorothy tripped the light fantastic down the Yellow Brick Road, so of late have I.

I liken the start of 2010 to my own private storm—raggedy emotions and best-laid plans, turned upside down in quick succession. Perversely stubborn and independent, it’s begun to dawn on me that life is not created on will and persistence alone. In short, nothing in my life has been flowing with ease.

The most recent and hopefully final insult being a freak accident during a ski lesson (part of my “plan” to improve my skills, face my fears and get in the best shape possible) on a mogul made of ice topped with fresh powder. Going down, my pole stuck in the wrong position with my wrist trapped in the strap; I heard the snap, snap of two bones breaking.

Adding insult to injury, one of the first questions posed to me by the young brawny ski patrol was, “Have you had a bone density test?” If Kansas was my youth, I knew I wasn’t there anymore. To his credit, he was very skilled and he did refrain from calling me “ma’am”.

Duly splinted, “slinged” and tied into a gurney-like sled in a snowstorm, ski patrol guy skied me down one of the steepest mountains in North America. All the way down I heard a familiar refrain ringing in my ears. “Surrender Dorothy!” Funny how that happens since at that moment surrender was really my only option.

I don’t know how Dorothy interpreted the message but for me the effect was visceral, a relaxation into knowing that I don’t know…a damn thing.

Currently I am reading the book Lit by Mary Karr. When Mary questions what it means to surrender she is told:

Yield up what scares you. Yield up what makes you want to scream and cry. Enter into that quiet. It’s a cathedral. It’s an empty football stadium with the lights on. And pray to be an instrument of peace.

Sliding down the hill, injured, in the hands of a stranger becomes just another part of the journey, a spiritual journey akin to Dorothy’s—demons and all. “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”

I know in the great scheme of things, a broken wrist is not a big deal. It has, however, forced some awakening and also made me realize in the most clichéd way how much I take for granted. Needless to say I have had to yield a lot. Or more plainly speaking, getting my pants on constitutes a good day.

Believing that the Scarecrow, Lion and Tin Man were simply aspects of Dorothy’s self, I have adopted them as my own for the time being. As I write this I am typing with only my left hand, a practice I have also had to extend to my previously good handwriting.

Thus in a peculiar homage to the Scarecrow I am developing the alternate side of my brain, and I am told, warding off early onset dementia.

Sitting in the quiet, accepting what I cannot do and asking for help is humbling. These things when mixed with practical challenges such as sheets of ice in the driveway require a digging down deep on my part, relying on faith and summoning courage.

The heart part I am finding in the prayers.

And pray to be an instrument of peace.

Prayer has as many interpretations as people who practice it. For me it’s often a simple plea, “Help”. Sometimes it’s a silent interaction with the natural world such as the resident magpie on my fence. But heart, I’m finding is also about extending patience and tenderness toward loved ones and myself. Acceptance brings peace.

With two more weeks of imposed stillness, I am hoping I can make solid friends with the silence and carry it always as a reminder of all the things I do know but had for some months lost sight of. “Surrender Dorothy!” then becomes a most valuable mantra.