I am just now able to write about an experience I had, although it happened several weeks ago…

I went to meet some neighbors and show my support at a local community center chili cook-off. I even whipped up a batch of gluten-free cornbread, because I figured there would be no other GF entries. (GF could also stand for God-forsaken, and in this case, both applied.) I’ll admit, I used a mix that had been sitting in my cabinet for a while, waiting for the perfect opportunity. I zhushed it up with some pickled jalapeños, black beans, and extra seasoning. It had so much potential… and was barely edible. Thankfully the entries were anonymous, although I told everyone I met to stay away from it.

There was also a blood drive going on simultaneously, and I decided to donate before leaving. I hadn’t donated blood since college. I vaguely remembered something happening back then… me lying in a recliner, eating fruit for a while while people scurried around me…  but I couldn’t remember why. I only remembered them telling me I shouldn’t give blood again.

But that was 37 years ago, when my diet consisted mostly of junk food and let’s just say I “partied heavily.” I figured I was a completely different person now. I sat in the chair, ate my piece of fruit afterward, and thought to myself, See? No big deal.

They gave me the pertinent information about eating and drinking fluids, and something about “not doing anything strenuous for 24 hours.”

After work, I drove the winding road back up to my cabin on top of the mountain. And proceeded to take a walk, of course.

Now, I have taken this walk hundreds of times before. It didn’t even register as close to strenuous. I just needed to walk off all those little taster cups of chili and other people’s not-so-disgusting cornbread. (Although in hindsight, it wasn’t as much food as my bloated belly appeared to have in it. Because, you know… chili.) I walked up the mountain slowly, taking it easy. I didn’t even take my usual route that climbs the backside of another mountain and back.

But on the way home, with about a half mile to go, I began to feel a little dizzy. I just happened to be standing in front of one of the most enchanted trees I have ever wandered beside… A magical portal of a tree who speaks with me when I pass by.

I walked over and placed my hand on the tree. And suddenly felt very swimmy-headed.

The last thing I remember was grabbing the trunk in the final moment before I went down.

When I came to, the side of my face and jaw were embedded in the dirt. Before I was even fully conscious, I was already mid-conversation with myself. For a brief moment, I had no idea where I was or what had happened. I knew it felt good to be lying down, but I also knew, somehow, that I was not in a place where one should be lying nearly facedown.

I slowly got up and grasped the tree again. Got fully to my feet. And blacked out a second time, waking up in a different position on the ground.

And then it happened a third time.

I went from partially amused and befuddled to absolutely terrified. I thought, How am I going to get home? I knew what I had done. I knew it was my fault. I also knew I only needed to get home, nourish myself, drink lots of fluids, and take it easy. I crawled and walked, mostly stooped over, in the drainage ditch that leans steeply toward the mountain… all the way home… so that if it happened again, I would at least have a shorter distance to fall. (I was problem-solving. Poorly, but still.)

After eating and drinking, I decided I felt safe enough to take a shower. It wasn’t until I walked into my bathroom in the bright light that I saw the full aftermath of my three cosmic trips to another dimension. My hip, which had been impossibly sore, was now sporting a grapefruit-sized black and blue hematoma. I had scuffs on my cheek and jaw and had scraped the skin clean off my ear. I knew nothing was broken, so I felt quite fortunate. Although I later learned at the dentist that I could add two chipped teeth to the list of carnage. (Just to round things out.)

Five days later, 40 miles outside of Asheville, I ate a mouthful of peanuts… one of my favorite fuss-free driving snacks… and felt sharp pains in my jaw. The left side of my face was numb and tingling, and everything felt as fresh as if I had fallen only moments before. I pulled over on the four-lane highway and called my friends to come pick me up and take me to the Emergency Room.

I normally handle emergencies with extreme calm and ease. This particular situation, however, left me in the full grip of anxiety, realizing I had most of the textbook symptoms of a traumatic brain injury.

And what happened in the emergency room? Absofreakinlutely nothing.

They kept me there all day and into the evening, performing x-rays and CT scans, just to write on my chart that I was having a panic attack. The numbness and tingling in my face eventually subsided that afternoon, and while I postponed my road trip for a few days, I appeared to have fully recovered.

Now here is where the story gets interesting. (As if three blackouts and a face full of dirt weren’t interesting enough.)

Any physical injury I sustained in the actual falls paled in comparison to the power and profoundness of the experience in my mind. I am still processing its meaning and purpose. The fact that each time I touched this magical tree, I lost consciousness… well, that could not be ignored by a woman who is always looking for the magic and mystery of life. The weirder the better is how I normally roll.

So, almost immediately, I chose to believe that I was the recipient of a powerful divine download from the Universe… one that apparently required my entire being and all levels of consciousness to handle. I am still choosing to believe that it somehow enhanced my inherent superpowers.

Because why not???

And you know what? I can honestly say, my life IS different now. I am more focused, more organized, and have tapped into a newfound well of inspiration. Was it from getting my noggin knocked around like a whack-a-mole? I have no idea. But I do know that it is whatever I believe it to be.

Was I actually given superpowers? Like all good placebo effects… who cares? I am feeling great, full of creativity, and writing an article about it that someday I will read again and ponder some more.

In the meantime, I walk past that tree every single day. With great reverence, a little side-eye, and both hands firmly in my pockets.