Fueling Up (Way) Beyond the Tank

The other day I left my house but my wallet didn't. I didn't realize its absence until I reached in my purse for it to pay for parking. My heart skipped a beat. Hey, what an unusual break. Somehow, my checkbook, which I only use at home, was lying in the bottom of my purse. Like settling into a difficult yoga pose, I paid and left the lot with a smile of relief across my face. It wasn't long, however, let's say two seconds, that my calm breathing stopped short. Ahh, I had exactly 11 miles before my tank would run dry. How was I going to get home -- 20 miles away-- including a long bridge crossing? What gas station takes a check, especially without ID? 

No money. No cards. No fuel. But I had to give it a try. I pulled into the closest and what I'm sure is the most expensive gas station in San Francisco, put on a hopeful face and asked if they'd help me out by accepting a check, and if not that, I'd memorized my VISA number, so certainly that would work? Receiving a flat no, I went back to my car and rummaging through the center console, discovered six quarters, enough to buy .3 gallons of gas. Out went the money and in went the dribble of gas. I turned on the car and presto, What? It registered 7 miles until empty? How could that be? That's what I'd entered with. I left the station and began looking for station number two, hoping for better luck.

"Sorry, we can't take checks or a credit card without swiping it," said the friendly young Latina behind the counter. Continuing she asked, "How much gas would you like? I'll pay for it," she offered picking up her wallet. "Really?" I thought, incredulous, and said to her. "I'll write you a check." "That's OK," she said, "you can pay me back sometime when you're back in this neighborhood." "I'll write you a check now and thank you, you're an angel," I insisted as I wrote out $5.00 and handed it to her. Certainly my hybrid would get me home on 1.5 gallons given its 20+ miles per gallon. Again, my yoga calm returned, multiplied by the generosity of this stranger.  I jumped in my car, turned it on and as I pulled into the street... What?! The gage still registered 7 miles to empty. How could this be? Should I trust the gage, chancing it that I could make it home? All I could picture was being parked on the thin shoulder of the bridge, awaiting a tow truck. Ahhh! I'd have to refuel again.

I drove through town and a growing rush of late afternoon traffic to the only other gas station I knew, one perched at the top of the hill just before the entrance to the bridge. I stepped up to the window, revealed my plight, and again received a flat and definitive, "We can't do that." With five miles now registered on my gage, I had to try a different tack. I leaned against the outside of the station window and waited. As a 20-something guy came ambling up to the window from his truck I shyly inquired, "I know this is an unusual request, but my car's out of gas and my wallet is at home. May I give you a personal check for $10 so that I have enough gas to get home, please?" He looked at me and without hesitation replied, "Let me just buy your gas and we'll call it a day." What?! Angel #2?! He then peered into the window of the station and said, "I was hoping to buy a power cord for my phone, it's totally dead as is my iPad and I don't have directions to make a delivery." What?! "I have one for you!" I almost shouted. He leaned against the counter and said to the attendant, "$15 for pump #7." My pump. When I got in my car and turned it on, it registered 123 miles to empty. 

Empty; I was anything but that. I was fueled. Fueled by being listened to. Acknowledged. Met where I was. And fueled by not one but two fellow humans, two strangers. who gave freely without hesitation or expectation so that I could move forward free of worry and fear. 

Fueled up, way beyond the tank.
   

'Life Goes 'round in Circles' until it doesn't. What's the lesson in that?

I was hit by a car. On August 16th. While riding down Paradise Drive, the last few turns before the idyllic bayside town of Tiburon, an old, dulled silver station wagon turned left. Feet in front of me. I hit my brakes. I couldn't stop. I tried to turn. Slam! My tire hit the grill. I was launched off my bike onto the car's hood, slid up and onto the windshield and then dropped off the edge onto the pavement. First to hit was my back followed by my helmeted head, bu-bump. I remember the sounds: crunch, skid, thump-thump. Then silence.

Infinity Loop

I looked up at the cloudless blue sky under which, moments before, I had been riding. And smiling. Had I cracked ribs? Crushed bones? Was my back broken? Could it possibly be, after this violent crash, that I was actually alright? What if I wasn't? Rather than my past flashing before my eyes, it was my future that I contemplated. I exercise daily. It's like water for me. What if I couldn't do that anymore? What other limitations would that bring to the rest of my life? What might I not be able to do anymore? To think that in 5 seconds, or less, my life path could be determined. By someone else.
An old, grey haired man with crooked teeth looked out of his opened car window at me. Lying on my back, I looked up at him. "You were going too fast," he said. I had been going down a hill and I was moving for sure. Did that make me at fault? Then I thought, of course, he's nervous, he's trying to absolve himself of his mistake, thinking of his insurance premiums going up, replacing my crumpled bike, worried about my medical costs, the threat of losing his license... I didn't respond.
Yes, he is at fault: a left-turning vehicle must yield to oncoming traffic. I have scraped elbows, a bruised bump on the inside of my right knee where it probably hit the center bar of my bike, another big, bruised bump on my lower right back onto which I made my final landing and a scrape on my right lower back. My neck is stiff.
So what's my take-away, my lesson? Of course, I'm thankful beyond words that I walked away from what could have been a tragic outcome. And it served as a reminder to enjoy every moment because I'll never know when it might be my last, or the last as I knew it. But there's something else. Something about a calmness that I experienced throughout the entire ordeal - from seeing the car turn, my hitting into it, flying off my bike, landing and wondering about my condition. People who know me, including me, wouldn't put 'calm' at the top of, or even on the Dana's qualities list. Yet I was calm. Receiving what came rather than fighting it or bracing against it. I went with the flow. I actually believe that it was my yielding that saved me. That's my lesson. Assert and receive. Yang and yin. Action and calm. That makes me smile.

Ahhhh,

Dana

Just a Moment

Now, look out your window. What catches your eye?

Now, take in a deep breath through your nose. What scent do you detect?

Now, touch your cheek. What texture and temperature do you feel?

Now, take a bite or sip of something. Savory, bitter, sweet or salty?

Now, close your eyes, relax your jaw, breathe normally and listen. What do you hear?

It takes just a moment to be in the Now.

Dana 

Altruism - Is It OK to Reap Its Rewards?

Last evening at dinner we discussed the concept of 'altruism' - 

doing something for someone with no expectation of a 
reward or repayment. 

But, we also discussed the seeming impossibility of 
not receiving something in exchange 

(including a good feeling upon seeing someone smile, 

satisfaction from doing something good or helpful.) 

Does such a reward, be it internal or external, negate the altruistic act? 

ACT TODAY! 

Offer one act of altruism. What do you think? Feel?

Smiling at you,

Dana

Father Time Needs a Time Out! For Women ONLY...

Father Time Overcome by Love, Hope and Beauty by Simon Vouet

Feeling crazed? Pushed? Pulled? Anxious, overwhelmed, hyper? Frustrated, exhausted, drained? You've got Father Time to thank. Yes, rather than pausing to consider the consequences of over-stuffing our calendars, not to mention focusing on what we really want, his wily tick-tock ways get us -- particularly women --to say 'yes-yes' 'yes-yes' at the speed of light. Oh, and how we've bought into his bravado -- ironically bragging, "I was up all night working on this project!" And to what effect? Chronic illness? Ignoring our own precious priorities? Oh, how he smiles at such deleterious results. 
Enough!
It's time to stop the clock - his clock. It's time for each of us to say farewell to Father Time and welcome to My Time…my pace, my tempo, my 'yes-yes' 'yes-yes' AND 'no-no' 'no-no.'  

The question to keep asking and answering is: 

What is the love, hope and beauty that I want to 

'give-and-receive' 'give-and-receive'? 

Join me to discover how to set your own timepiece, one that promotes health, happiness and meaning. 

WHAT: Time Management and Balance: A Workshop for Women

        WHERE: HUB San Francisco, 925 Mission Street, San Francisco 

WHEN: Tuesday, April 15th  6-7:30 p.m. 

INFO & SIGN UP: Farewell Father Time; Welcome My Time

Now that promises to be well spent Me Time!

Helping you tick-tock your way to balance, day by day, minute by minute, second by second,

Dana