True Story “Crash”

© Robin Easton - All Rights Reserved

One autumn day while living in Denver, Colorado, I drove out of the Rockies, from 12,000 feet up, back down to Denver at 5280 feet, the mile-high city. I had spent several days by myself in the mountains, collecting edible and medicinal plants. I had lived off the land a lot that summer and fall. At twenty-one years old, I had never lived in a large city. Growing up in rural Maine had kept me close to the earth, especially with Dad’s love of the woods and his desire to share that love with his children. I had been living in Denver for a while and it was always hard for me to return to the city. I preferred my days spent in the wild, rugged Rockies.

As I approached the sprawling outskirts, Interstate 70 grew more and more crowded. I raced along with hundreds of other cars, all going 65mph. John Denver crooned Annie's Song over the radio of my old Ford Falcon station wagon. As we converged on the city I happened to glance up and noticed a thick brown cloud of dust rise from the edge of a concrete overpass, one I rapidly approached. I assumed it was dirt blowing off a dump truck, but unexpectedly, massive chunks of concrete burst from the overpass and hurtled toward my car. They were huge chunks, roughly four feet square and two feet thick.

In split seconds my thoughts frantically clambered over each other, racing to the top of my awareness. My brain exploded in liquid terror that screamed through my veins like razor blades. I automatically glanced in my rear-view mirror and saw bumper-to-bumper cars mere feet behind me.

Oh, my gawd, you’re tailgating. Slow down! I have to brake. Don’t you see the concrete? Oh no! I’m trapped in the middle lane. Go faster! Moooove! Oh gawd, please move.

Oblivious drivers, who had not looked upward, blocked the lane in front of me. Cars tailgated behind me. I was trapped front and back, and on both sides, all lanes full. I knew without a doubt; the crushing load would hit my car, and there was nothing I could do.

Oh God, help me. I'm gonna die.

At that realization, my body went completely limp. A soothing calm flooded my whole being and I was enveloped in soft warm light. I felt so safe as I let go and embraced death. All terror ceased and events slowed way down, much like a film in slow motion. I felt only curiosity and tender love.

As I left my body, I floated above the car, now as a keen observer. Seconds became hours until there was no time at all…only events and feelings passing in a calm, orderly fashion. I drifted into a world of familiar people, places, sensations, and sounds. My mother's pretty face, with tears in her blue eyes, and her hand reaching for mine. My father's kindness, wrapped in his arms, and wisdom. And many beautiful memories of time spent at the lake in Maine with my four brothers and one sister. I knew complete peace and calm-awareness. I was still...me.

I wondered; Does Mom know I'm about to die? It will devastate her. I have to go to her. Wow, I can see her, there at our house in Maine. Aw, she’s cooking a meal. She looks tired. Can you feel me, Mom? I’m right here beside you, holding you, holding us.

I hovered around my mother and gently spoke to her. It will be okay, Mom. I will always be with you. I felt her soul respond with so much love. All the conflict between us no longer mattered. I felt only our deep bond, only the most tender compassion. She wanted to love me, as much as I wanted to love her.

Then, I found myself in my father’s dental office. Dad was laughing and talking with a patient, his smile beautifully charismatic and warm. I felt so proud of him. I spoke and immediately felt his soul respond.

I love you, Dad. Thank you for giving me the gift of Nature. It was a big gift, and you’re a brave man, Dad, a free thinker. We are so much alike. I love that. Thank you for being open and always keeping me close to your heart. I feel you with me on all my travels.

Dad’s love flooded into my soul. I knew he would always love me, and communicate with me no matter where or what we were.

There were other cherished people I visited, and I was both deeply loved and loving. Any conflicts or differences we might have had, no longer existed. In each soul, beneath all of our hurt or fear, I felt only Love at the core…even those who had hurt me…or I had hurt. I began to understand that our bottom line of Existence is Love.

Unexpectedly everything shifted. I now soared like a raven high above the Earth. I saw great winding rivers and the edge of a blue ocean far below. There were tiny ant-sized towns and roads. My heart burst with tenderness for humanity with all of the joys and struggles of being human. I fell in love with the beautiful human spirit, both vulnerable and tenacious, a species still evolving. Humans, trying to find their place with all the rest of life.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a voice shouted at me, and I was back on the Denver freeway. "Robin! Robin, come back. Now! Raise your arm. Cover your eyes. Grab the steering wheel with your other hand. Now! Quick! Hold on tight. Your life depends on it. HOLD ON TIGHT!"

I immediately obeyed without question. Yet, at the same time, I still floated above my car, and from there I watched as tons of concrete crashed with thunderous force through the roof and hood of my car. The windows violently explode. Glass blasted in every direction. My head whipped back. All four tires burst like gunshots. Bang! Bang! Metal screeched as it ripped to smithereens.

The roof of my station wagon tore from end-to-end diagonally and curled like a jagged tin can. The tailgate screeched and snapped off. Doors popped open and ripped away. The back seat and passenger seat flattened…dead. Shredded batting blew everywhere. A thousand pounds of concrete smashed onto the hood of my car and ground the engine to oblivion.

Silence.

Is my body dead? It doesn't feel anything, can't move it. I’m aware like I normally am. But where's my body, do I still have one? Wow, this is wild.

Then the voice came again, "Robin, remove your arm from your eyes. Look at your hands. Now! Robin, LOOK AT YOUR HANDS!"

Disembodied…from my body…I struggled to lift an arm I could not feel, or even find. Was it even there? Finally, movement. Just enough to see my fingers.

Wow, I can see them, but I can't feel them.

Cars whizzed by, but they did not look at me. Maybe, they feared what they would find. Oddly, I understood and felt only compassion.

They probably think I’m dead. Maybe, my body is out on the road, tossed like a rag doll.

The voice shouted, "Robin, pinch your leg. Come back. Now! ROBIN, COME BACK!”

My fingers tried to respond to the command to pinch and squeeze, but they were too weak to move.

My body must be dead.

Once more, the voice commanded, "Robin, do it again. Hurry! PINCH YOUR LEG, NOW!"

I fumbled around and finally felt a pinch somewhere on my thigh, solid, warm flesh...and I slowly re-entered my body.

Oh, wow. I can feel my leg. I think I'm alive. Did I get hurt? I couldn’t have survived. Oh, gawd, my car is obliterated, everywhere except where I'm sitting. Oh, my legs, they’re still there. My arms and head are there. I don’t see any blood. This can’t be possible.

The part I still cannot remember is how my car arrived neatly parked at the curbside without hitting any other vehicle or careening off the road.

Abruptly, violent tremors shook my legs and arms, and again the voice yelled, "Robin, get out of the car. It could explode. Get out, now! ROBIN! GET OUT OF THE CAR!"

Frantically I groped for the door handle. It was gone. The door lay flung out on the road, crushed. I suddenly remember; all the doors had been ripped off. With convulsive fingers, I struggled to undo my seat belt. Finally, it clicked and I moved to stand. My knees buckled, and I fell onto hard pavement. Although the tarmac was peppered with glass, it felt deliciously cool against my cheek. I wanted to lie there forever, but traffic roared inches from my head. I crawled on hands and knees to the grassy verge.

I must have sat for twenty minutes at the edge of I-70, entirely still. For the first time in months, I felt complete peace. The world I'd just experienced still clung to me and it felt very natural and familiar, much like nature, so peacefully merged with everything. I knew I had entered the experience we humans call “the other side.” In the next instant, I also realized there is no “other side.” The supposed “other side” is an extension of the world we already know every single day. No “veil” or “barrier” separates us. It is all one continuous world.

The city whizzed by, workers eagerly driving home to dinner, lovers going out for the evening, cuddled close in the front seat. Life forever moving on. A teeny orange spider crawled across my new Frye boots. Cool green grass grew on the curb with the exhaust of a million vehicles. Me, the spider, and the grass were all in love.

How amazing. Life is so courageous. It persists under the harshest conditions. Never-ending. Death…only an illusion.

The sunset glowed orange and pink. Love wrapped around me color by color.

This is my sunset, God reminding me to live. Life is so precious. Wow, how did my car get so lined up like that, as if someone neatly parked it by the curb? How did that happen? I couldn’t have done it. I covered my eyes like the voice said. Yes, I remember that. So, how did it get there?

Suddenly a man’s voice cut through my reverie, "Sweetie, you can't sit here all night. You gotta' get inside my heated truck. Come on, hun. I'll call for an ambulance on my CB radio. They should be here any minute."

I looked up into gentle, brown eyes, kind eyes. He smiled and lovingly draped a large warm ranch coat over my trembling shoulders. Strong hands slowly lifted me, and safe arms carried me into a heated truck. I broke into sobs, not from fear or trauma, but from such gentle care. This dear man badly wanted to reassure me that I was safe with him. His voice vibrated with a rich, warm timbre as he soothingly chatted.

“You’ll be okay, hun. You’re safe now. I have a daughter about your age. You’re perfectly safe with me. Me and my buddy will wait right outside the truck. I’ll turn the heat up and leave the keys with you. We were just returning from riding our dirt bikes in the mountains when we saw your car. It’s a miracle you’re alive. You’re okay now, sweetie.”

Eventually, the ambulance arrived. When the paramedic saw my mangled car, I heard him ask one of the men, “Where’s the body?” I refused to go to the hospital. I had no insurance and just wanted to go home and sink into a hot bath. I needed to be somewhere quiet and familiar to ponder my experience. However, the young paramedic, not much older than me, insisted he examine me. Blessedly, there were no broken bones, no severed limbs, no cuts, no bruises, and only slight whiplash. I walked away unscathed…and completely changed. The young medic agreed to let me go once I promised to see a doctor the next day.

A wiry, blond, tow-truck driver arrived at the scene and hitched up what remained of my Ford Falcon, ready to haul to the scrap yard. As he hooked cables and winched my car, he offered to drive me home. My guardian angel helped me out of his warm truck and told me I could trust the tow-truck driver to drop me off at my apartment at no charge.

I don’t remember if I thanked my beautiful angel. I only know I didn’t want to let go of his coat. It smelled masculine and woodsy, and so safe. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his broad chest, but I don’t know if I did. I only remember I loved him for his deep goodness. I could feel the love in him.

I scarcely heard the non-stop chatter of the tow-truck driver as he brought me home. I don’t even remember arriving at my apartment or my soak in a hot bath. All I remembered was the gentle man who helped me when all other cars drove by. I basked in the beauty of his soul, a soul that had become part of my own. All I remembered was the peace I felt with my mother, father, siblings, and other souls I had visited, including the teeny orange spider, bravely living on the edge of the road. All I remembered was the sunset that radiated through me and spoke of God, and hope, and my inseparable connection to all things, our connection to all things. And then…I remembered The Voice that guided me through the crash.

Later that night, I lay alone in my bed, and once again realized there is no ‘in my body’ and ‘out of my body.’ Once we are merged with all life, everything just IS…one vast experience happening all at once. If we allow it, we extend far beyond our tiny bodies, as far as we want. We can begin to choose what to focus on and how to move more effortlessly in and out of all kinds of experiences and states of being. I began to suspect that my deeply merged relationship with nature and other life forms, allowed me to comfortably transition between various experiences, emotions, and states of consciousness, or as I’d heard others say, “between this world and the next.”

I did not go away from the crash feeling dark and frightened. I went away from it infused with warm, enduring Light. I felt indescribably beautiful and safe. Not invincible, but rather filled with a calm, solid knowing that my soul was safe. I immediately bought another used car, a green Rambler, and within days I was back on I-70 returning to my beloved mountains. The whole experience made perfect sense to me. I not only found it immensely inspiring and life-altering, but I felt profoundly grateful to be alive. I knew I had been given a gift, a reminder of the vastness of my own Existence, our Existence, and it was far vaster than the view my culture had taught me.

After this experience and a couple of others I had before the crash, I clearly remembered that death will not kill me. What we humans call “death” is not the end of us, nor would death kill my understanding of who I am, or my awareness and connection to all life, or my feelings of love. Death might transform what I perceive as the physical aspects of myself, but at the same time, this thing we call “death” would only increase my vastness. However, I now know we do not have to die or even come close to dying to experience the immensity of our souls, or the vastness of Existence, or the place and experience we call, “the next world” or “the other side.”

After the concrete crash, I was continually called to remember that “the barrier” we think lies between us and “the next world” is not a barrier that lies outside us, something created by a god or cosmic force that prevents us from entering other realities and experiences. I feel that the veil or barrier between worlds is something that lies within us. I suspect we create the barrier when we stop letting go into the full breadth of who we are and the Love we are being offered.

Sometimes we fall asleep in our lives, or we fear fully-opening our hearts and minds to Life and the enormous potential of The Great Unknown. Our choice to create veils or barriers can sometimes stop us from moving willfully forward into the wide-open arms of Love and untold new experiences. Often we are the ones who stop our own expansion, a merging with everything that lives and breathes all around us, the Great Mystery.

To resist the fullness of who we really are, can potentially leave us both tired and with a false sense of separation, or veil, or barrier. Sadly, this belief can cause much grief and anxiety. It takes enormous energy to create separation. It is akin to trying to hold back the mighty Amazon River. Separation is not the way of nature. It does not exist. Nor is separation-thinking our original state of being.

Nature perpetually teaches me that there are no obstacles between me and the rest of Existence, save those I create myself. Separation is an illusion. Everything that exists is happening and accessible right now, one vast, multifaceted experience. The supposed “other side” is always available to us right now. It is not separate from ‘this side,’ as if divided by an invisible Berlin Wall. It is as real, accessible, and as natural as stepping into our cars and driving to work, or brushing our teeth, or holding a loved one. We do not have to wait until we die to experience “the other side” or “the next world,” nor to fully communicate with those we love. They have not gone beyond our reach, hidden behind some obscure veil. I cannot stress enough the importance of talking with those you love. Like any corporeal relationship, the more you engage these beloved souls, the closer you both become. Trust that you will be heard, and with time…you will hear.

Nature, and events like the one I just shared with you, teach me that Existence, or The Great Mystery, or "the other side" is an experience, not a place we go to. In light of that, it is something we can feel, live, and experience now.

Babies come into the world still immersed in The Great Mystery, or as we say “the other side.” Our natural state is to experience this type of vastness simply because it is who we already are…always. When we remember this, we start to let go of our veils and barriers and once again let Sweet Life seep in, all of it. And, Life is huge. It is truly magnificent and without limits.

I feel it is our natural state of Being to live fully merged with all life. In this, we live through and with all life forms. We live vastly Eternal and with profound empathy. As I hike barefoot into the desert of New Mexico, the Living Earth repeatedly reflects this truth and invites me to merge ever deeper with other intelligent species, and with the wisdom and experience of plants, rocks, rain, sun, wind, stars, and the vast cosmos.

I now know there will always be a Robin, a Robin connected to the souls, places, and experiences that she loves and that love her. We can let go and know that everything—even this thing we call “death”—is Life itself.

Nothing is lost.

And, there is nothing beyond our reach. Yet, at the same time, the Reach is infinite. The Life-Giving potential for discovery, new experiences, feelings, insights, and love, is beyond measure. There are no borders, veils, or walls holding us back.

There is only Love.
We truly are free…and safe.

I love you, always.
Robin

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NOTE: I later read in the Denver Post that a drunk driver, a woman, on the overpass above me, hit the concrete guardrail at eighty miles an hour. The overpass was the oldest in the city and it gave way, unleashing huge blocks of concrete onto my car below. No one could comprehend that I survived. The only part of my car not crushed was a tiny square of roof right above my head. If I had sat anywhere else in the car, I would have been instantly killed. No other vehicle on the freeway received so much as a scratch.

I never knew the name of the deeply caring man who came to my rescue with soft brown eyes and warm voice. But, more than forty years later, I still think of him, feel him. I will never forget his selfless commitment to human kindness.