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In life, sometimes, we tumble into a crevasse,
- deep enough,
- dark enough,
- dangerous enough,
to reorder our priorities and change how we live the rest of our lives.
My tumble taught me three things about crevasses:
- They’re almost impossible to avoid,
- They’re terrifyingly consuming,
- They’re virtually impossible to escape…
…without the aid of others.
It would seem from the day we were born a crevasse was destined to find us and then our life becomes a story of
- how we did, or
- how we did not
- find our way out
Alcoholism precipitated my fall, a condition I inherited through my Celtic blood.
In June of 1985 I came to a time when I was incapable of
- clear thinking
- empathetic feelings
- rigorous honesty
I had lived for too long in a world of contradictions
- up was down
- north and south
- bad was good
Then, at the very moment when I thought all was lost — it happened like a thunderbolt.
I came upon an AA meeting and knew, almost immediately, I had found a way out.
How, you ask.
Because everyone who spoke told some variation of my story. The crevasse into which I had fallen was, well — crowded.
But these fallen angels knew something I did not. They knew we could do for each other what we could not do for ourselves.
Find our way out.
It’s something when your memory bank is picked and you come to discover your secrets and sorrows are so similar to those of others.
Another story has served as a metaphor for my experience of recovery.
The story of a friend who fell into a crevasse on the Carbon Glacier on Mt. Rainier.
The mountain appears on our horizon as a spectacular beauty, but on an inclement day it’s more aptly described as a terrible beauty.
This friend and his climbing partner had chosen a particularly difficult route on a day when white-out conditions made climbing treacherous.
As they were nearing the summit — disaster struck!
My friend suddenly felt the ground open beneath him and swallow him whole, into a giant crevasse.
He tumbled forty feet before his fall was arrested.
His partner had promptly affixed a belay anchor which saved his life, but pulling him out proved impossible.
So there he was left dangling, 100 feet off the glacier floor — upside down. His heavy pack prevented him from righting himself.
“There comes a moment . . . when imagination gives out and reality leaps forth. It is frightful!” — Edgar Strindberg
The question facing them was not if the end would come but how. They held their position for eight long hours —
- watching,
- waiting, and
- praying.
Then came the miracle they were praying for —
by way of a climbing party descending from the summit. They took immediately action.
Executing a textbook crevasse rescue, using a system of ropes, carabiners, and prusik knots, they gradually hauled my friend out of the crevasse.
I have thought of that rescue many times since I took the tumble into my crevasse, for it tells my story of
- how I fell in and
- how I got out
I’ve long since concluded I would never have found my out without the help of those who sat around those tables with me.
I needed to be taken by the hand and showed the way out.
Isn’t this how divine intervention actually happens in life — when one human being extends a life-saving hand to another?
It’s only through the help of others that any of us makes it through our time in our own Great Crevasse.
This story has taught me two lessons:
- We can’t live without the support of others.
- Life’s not worth living without being of support to others.
What goes around comes around.
Just a thought…
Pat
***
It feels as if this age has opened up a vast crevasse into which we have all plunged. So now more than ever we will need each other. Please trust that Marsha and I will be here for you each week.
***
What other song makes more sense now than You’ve Got a Friend, by Carol King?