Happy Sunday!
“I’m too old for this.”
I say it out loud to myself, balancing in a half-dead tree.
Ten feet below, my five-year-old nephew stares up through the mess of branches and leaves.
“Can I help?” he calls up.
“No, buddy, stay back,” I say. “Branches are coming down.”
I gave him the prop-powered hover ball for his birthday this morning. He’s played with it all day, only stopping long enough to charge the battery.
I knew tossing the thing outside was a risky play. But the kid would not take no for an answer. I couldn’t argue with his enthusiasm.
And it was me who asked him to take it around the house and out into the open. When he tossed it my way, the tiny propeller pulled it up and sideways, smack into the tree line.
I shook the tree trunk, and nothing fell out. All I could do was climb. My call, my fault.
I’m shocked I made it this far up after half the foot-and-hand holds broke off as I climbed. With every step and pull, the situation got sketchier.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” he asks for the third time.
“No, I’m all good. I’ll get it,” I say. It’s a lie. My confidence is shrinking, but luckily he listens.
I squint, scanning for the little wire-framed orb. Still nothing.
I twist myself around and push off against the tree behind me to maneuver over and up to the next limb. It’s big enough for one foot and alive enough not to break under me.
I get my footing and pause to steady myself. Then I see it, the golden glint of the ball, tucked neatly in the crook of two branches. Sweet, savory success.
“Found it!” I yell. “I’ll throw it down to you.”
I reach out, one foot extended behind me, snatching it from its nesting spot like it’s a golden snitch. I toss it hard enough that it lands cleanly in the grass, no propeller needed.
The boy who patiently waited shrieks with excitement and runs off to grab the day’s prized possession. Mission complete. Now, the descent.
I stretch my loose leg down to the dead branch I climbed up from. It holds as I set my other foot in place, scoping to find the next rung on this Devil’s ladder.
As I move to get a better view, the branch in my hand slides above me, pulling my balance with it. I take a half step back to get it back. Too late, too much weight. I hear the crack that turns into a snap under my foot.
I’m falling.
Eight feet through branches and bushes, crashing to the ground below. I land flat on my back with a thud. I’m tucked in a tiny patch of grass, not moving a muscle.
I lie still, waiting for the pain to arrive and share what’s broken or bleeding. I think, “Okay, how bad is it?”
I wait for a full minute, maybe more. Nothing comes. I sit up and spread my arms. No sharp pangs or aches. I get to my feet, suspicious that shock is masking the pain. Somehow, all seems okay.
With shaky legs, I stagger out of the trees. My nephew runs over, the ball buzzing and blowing air in his hand.
“Can we keep playing now?” he asks. He has no idea what happened.
“Not yet, buddy,” I say. “I think it needs a fresh charge.”
He allows it, and we walk together up to the house. Inside, Sarah sees my face.
“You’re white as a ghost,” she says.
“I think I am a ghost,” I reply.
—
The only visible sign of trauma was a rip in my shorts. And after the adrenaline passed, I discovered a road-rash-like scratch on my ribs. But damn, did I feel lucky.
I keep thinking about that minute in the grass.
If my nephew had seen it happen, I would’ve bounced up with a smile and twigs in my hair, telling him, “Don’t worry, Uncle’s okay!”
That’s what you do when someone’s watching. You perform being fine. But thankfully, he wasn’t paying attention. I got to lie there and find out how I felt, flat on my back in a bush in Saskatchewan.
Ironically, what broke under me is what saved me. The deadwood slowed me down and didn’t stab me on landing. I’m amazed I didn’t get hurt real bad.
Now I’m wondering if that’s the last tree I’ll ever climb.
I hope not. Because I’m still young enough to fall out of one.
September in 3 snapshots
🥏 Afternoon chuckles & evening chucks – Last time I saw Mark Normand, it was midnight in New York City. This time it was 4pm on Blackfoot Trail. Standup comedy during the day feels like pancakes for dinner. Technically fine, spiritually confusing. Followed it up with a round of disc golf. Felt like two days in one. Maybe three.
🍜 Nhớ Saigòn with Mr. Hoffman – Bubbs picked me up in his G-series chariot to grab a bowl of Vietnamese Phở. We slurped noodles while talking home ownership and PolyB piping, sitting next to a raindrop-speckled window. Felt fitting. Spend the most money of your life, win a subscription to fight water forever. Congrats to Bubbs on buying a home. Welcome to the spending club.
📼 Telepathic trip to Sask – Sarah and I left at 5pm on a Friday for a six-hour drive across the Great Plains of AB, listening to season 2 of the Telepathy Tapes podcast. I sank in deep as we cut east and north and east again on roads that all look the same. All the talk of extra-human abilities made me feel extra out-there. I still remember details from our drives listening to season 1. This drive will stick with me too.
3 lessons learned in September
I. The story of mañana is difficult to escape. Tomorrow is where your best intentions live. Along with your desires and dreams. But tomorrow never arrives. It’s only ever today. And today means actions, decisions, compromise. So you negotiate and bargain. It won’t be different tomorrow. Stop waiting for a day that doesn’t exist.
II. You don’t know what you know without talking to people. Internally, your perspective feels unique. It could be. It might also be terribly predictable. You’ll never know alone. Reality gets built between people, in conversation and contrast. Share your thinking. Let it get tested. Find out what survives.
III. Life is a dance, so get jiggy with it. Most of what’s happening is out of your control. It’s scripted before you know it’s happening. But everything has a beat, rhythm, and melody. Don’t fight it or deny it. Feel it, move with it, let it take you over. We’re all dancing anyway. Might as well sync up and start grooving.
3 interesting things
- NBC Sports dog diving western regional coverage – YouTube (7mins)
Dog athletes launching off a dock for max distance. The farthest-flying canines in the USA. Everything is a sport nowadays. - Confused about Canada’s new time zones? – YouTube (8mins)
I’m all for no seasonal time changes, but this made me think I might miss the morning sun more than I’d like. Dark DST days are coming. - Can humans learn to hibernate? – YouTube (26mins)
The science of human torpor: brain off-switches, Mars missions, and NASA sending Squirrelstronauts to the space station.
I’ll leave you with a quote 🤔
“As you start to walk out on the way, the way appears.”
— Rumi
Until next time,
remember to live and let go,
Scotty
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