The End of Continuity
By: Kimberly Sheridan
Tags: Personal Essay, Ram Dass, Nonfiction, Tattoo, Spirituality

Ram Dass mentions that he didn’t appreciate his physical form enough before the stroke. Maybe he was so focused on the ethereal that he took the vehicle for granted. Less than a year after getting the tattoo and after all these hoped-for areas fractured, I would fall and shatter my heel — my first major injury — which would result in overwhelming upheavals and a cascade of painful revelations. My injury would not be comparable to a serious stroke, but it would certainly be Fierce Grace in action. Even though I appreciated movement and my body quite a bit before the fall, I’d learn afterward how much I did take things like walking without crutches or getting my own coffee for granted — which you can never fully grasp until they’re taken away.

Things like a stroke are so captivating to the consciousness, Ram Dass states. Suffering comes when you try to hang on to continuity, like things I can’t do. But when you do spiritual work, you have weird multi-awareness. You have moments when you feel dejected, angry, and disappointed. You think you can’t trust God. You also believe things happen for us and not to us. You remind yourself your plan is not your plan. You pray to get out of your own way. Stroke…Grace, Stroke…Grace. Being able to embrace paradoxes is one of the oft-used wrenches in the spiritual toolbox. You simultaneously do the hard work, and realize you have little control. Everything can change in a heartbeat, and does, constantly.

When Ram Dass got stroked, he didn’t have any spiritual thoughts. He only remembered looking at pipes on the ceiling. With a smile he says, In my own death, I didn’t orient towards spirit — that shows me I have some work to do. That’s the test. I flunked the test. These insights come on the other side of surrender, after being open enough to listen, and trusting that linear time will provide clarity as our retrospective wisdom coheres. For as articulate and radiant as Ram Dass was pre-stroke, he’s even more powerful to listen to post-stroke. His pauses sound like he’s getting a download, like each word is considered, like his eye of perception is clearer not cloudier.

Saint Jnaneshwar taught, “Steadfastness is the courage through which one would not close the eye of perception — even if the heavens were to fall.” Fierce Grace isn’t just something that’s bestowed on us — we have to face it with fierceness. After my fall, I learned more deeply how to be steadfast. I’d do one-legged burpees or get on the floor with my casted foot and do yoga that could be done on my knees. I left NYC for the west coast shortly after my return to shoes, when my rebuilding efforts felt fruitless. In a taxi on the way to the airport, I watched the trees speed by in a blur against the pink and orange sunrise. I was moving on to the next stage, the next place, with a strong limp, two suitcases, $400 to my name, and no available credit.

In the nine months since the accident, I had lost some physical capabilities; I had lost the dream job I was gunning for; I had lost my apartment. Maybe hardest of all, I had lost my meditation teacher and the spiritual friend-group with whom I’d ushered in 2013. Actually, I chose to walk away from them after seeing a pervasive lack of integrity. I was distraught and left wondering how it all went so awry, but also determined to meet my situation with faithful fierceness. I knew that if this was grace, it would educate me — and if this was a test, I’d try to be up for the challenge.

With no job waiting for me, I boarded the plane to California because I trusted my inner compass. Spirituality requires listening and surrender, but also requires some muscle, some grit, and some boundaries; it requires doubling down when things get rough, and using the tools even when you’ve lost the toolbox.