Peter Himmleman
Discontent is one thing, but what of the devastation: the intractable experiences that collapse on us like landslides? Embracing change becomes impossible when calamity so forcefully crushes us. But should it write the final chapter? This story centers on a woman who nearly lost everything—and eventually found everything she desperately needed.
Barb Divine Sachs is 58 and “every single day,” she told me, “I cry with gratitude for a total stranger.” Over time that stranger became a daughter to her—and it began when she saved Barb’s life.
On a blistering summer day in 2016, Barbara was crossing the street at the corner of Laurel Canyon Boulevard and Riverside in California’s San Fernando Valley when an 88-year-old woman rammed full force into her. Barbara’s head smashed through the car’s windshield and the medics who arrived at the accident scene said she came as close to death as a human can.
The woman driving the car did nothing to help. She just sat on the edge of the sidewalk and screamed, “I don’t want to go to jail, I don’t want to go to jail!” as Barbara lay bleeding in the street. Incredulously, people drove by and walked past Barb on their way to Starbucks and the grocery store just across the street.
But one young woman did help. That morning Keta Meggett became Barbara’s guardian angel. With the temperature a scorching 105 degrees, Keta, a martial arts instructor, happened to have ice packs strapped to her body. Without stopping to think, Keta removed the packs and placed them around Barbara’s head and body to lower her core temperature. She then called 911. When the responders arrived and saw what Keta had done, they credited her with saving Barbara’s life.
Today, after multiple brain surgeries and postoperative therapy, it’s nearly impossible to tell that Barbara had endured such extreme trauma. When we spoke recently, I asked her about the role gratitude played in her life.
“I was always grateful,” Barbara told me. “I was always happy to be alive, but it was just the simplistic stuff everyone always says. It wasn’t anything I really thought about every day.”
Barbara paused to collect her thoughts.
“I guess I'm just more honest about things. The big difference is that I no longer tolerate any of the negative things I would’ve before, because now I realize what life is. Now I know what it means for my son Jake to have a mother. Now I know exactly what God has given me; it’s this gift of life itself.”
In the wake of her accident and recovery, Barbara has attained what many of us lack: a clarified, amplified sense of her aliveness. As we walk around, run our errands, make our phone calls —or even read this article—we live and breathe just as Barbara does. But unlike many of us, Barbara sees life through creative eyes; for her, little is mundane and much is wondrous. This ability arose simply because she came so close to losing her life. Newly born, she sees “with the same tender eyes as a child.”
I asked Barbara what feelings arise for her when she thinks of Keta. “What I feel for her is beyond gratitude,” she said. “There really should be a bigger word for what I feel towards her.”
I agree whole-heartedly. Words carry an enormous burden as small things with immense tasks—and in particular, the word “gratitude,” which must in nine letters account for so much. How could it possibly convey the weight of something so ineffable and immense? Like Openness, Love and Wonder, Gratitude is hard to describe, harder still to define.
But perhaps it is not the word so much as what hinges on it: a doorway to the Divine. Whether via discontent or crash landing, crossing that threshold leaves us transformed in ways that rational thinking cannot. And it changes us forever.
If you recall Barbara said something familiar to us all, yet extremely poignant given her brush with death. When I asked her to share her stance on gratitude, she replied, “Now I know what it is that God's given me; it’s this gift of life itself.”
If instead I inquired, “What is the most important piece of advice you could possibly give to someone?” it’s very likely Barbara would have said something similar: that the essential thing, the thing to carry at all times, is an understanding that life is a gift.
Take at least five minutes to write down in no more than two sentences your most important piece of advice. To make this easier and more specific, picture the person or people with whom you’d share this advice: your children, your best friend or a stranger in need, for example. By clarifying your idea in the form of “advice,” you also crystallize what strikes you as most important.
I just took a stab at this MDO myself. Here’s what I wrote:
No matter where you are, or what you achieve —or fail to achieve—at any given time, know that your time on Earth is limited; that your every breath is a miracle; and that if you proceed from that viewpoint, you will bring strength and happiness to yourself and others.
You may find the second part of this MDO harder than the first, as it zeroes in on how we feel about our own creativity. Take at least two minutes to print out or write your Life Advice down and physically mail it to two people today. For many, the emotional challenge of mailing their life advice to someone will feel nauseating: “Who the hell am I to give advice to anyone? I’m not perfect. I hate preachy people. I’m gonna sound arrogant!”
Fair enough. But does it make sense not to share your most important piece of advice—especially with someone you care about? Be thoughtful and (if required) be brave.
Do this MDO now.
MY PRACTICAL APPLICATION OF THE BEST LIFE ADVICE MDO
At some point within the last four or five years, I began to consider my creative aspirations outside the realms of performance and recording: a reorientation from product to process, in terms of how I might live. Looking back, I thought about what it meant to nurture a happy marriage for more than 30 years, parent four exceptional children and build friendships based on unerring love and commitment. How might these mileposts stack up to say, a thousand songs and a thousand performances? One conclusion I reached is that while a life of art is a good and noble thing, an artful life is something of another order. Art of life. Artful life. Hmmmm.
In my mind, an artful life stretches into eternity. When I think about “life advice,” at least as portrayed here, I feel more accomplishment than I could possibly receive from temporal achievements, even artful ones: Grammys, soundtrack Oscars, platinum records, topping the Rolling Stone reader’s poll.
So: What is it you know? That’s an essential question.
Perhaps you’re the lead singer/songwriter of a death metal ban, your work fueled by the strong belief that the most humane way to eliminate suffering is for everyone to die. That’s insane, I know... but knowing this at least clarifies your identity and point of view. Perhaps you’re a fifth grade teacher and your ideological underpinning rests on how human beings grow and thrive through increasing their knowledge. As I put creative works out into the world. I must ask myself: What ideological, philosophical, or moral orientation do those things reflect?
Whatever your advice, knowing who you are, believe in and stand for makes it easier to set aside your fear and move ahead—or push against your discontent and break through.
True creativity always asks us to take chances. Always. It calls us to explore the ambiguous and uncertain: to give up our ego, fears and judgments as we ride the waves into a mystery. To navigate these tricky waters it helps to know, precisely as possible, what we believe and what we believe in.
Those beliefs don’t demand rigidity or that we become inflexible and unyielding. For me, they serve instead as sails: strong yet supple enough to catch the wind. Thus I can traverse the world more freely, discovering beauty and meaning as I go.
