It’s rather funny, when I started the “Dark Matters” series I knew I intended to write about pain, but I had no idea how or where to begin. I now sit with a broken leg and it’s perfectly clear exactly where to start: with compassion and sympathy.

When I first went down in the snow on the sunny slopes in Steamboat, I knew pretty immediately that I had broken something and I wouldn’t be getting up for a while. I was also immediately grateful that help was nearby. Ski patrol would arrive soon enough and that I didn’t have to attempt to hobble or slide myself out (thanks Pete!) – and that eventually I would get some pain medication. While sliding down the hill on the stretcher, the excruciating pain somehow sharpened the smell of the the exhaust from the snowmobile and enhanced the beauty of the white, gray, and black aspen trees as they stood against the sheer blue sky. And crying, and screaming, and singing all somehow seemed to help.

The medications helped later on to assuage the pain and the warm family love and care helped me feel better, but nothing made the pain go away completely. Going to sleep at night was scary because I knew I would wake up in terrible pain halfway through the night. When the intense pain finally mostly subsided, discomfort lurked constantly, and relief came mostly in the form of a haze, shrouding more than just my pain, and it never lasted.

But I know that through the pain I join the human family, and fortunately, the pain hardly makes me immune to the pleasure in life, from the simple – like a perfect cup of coffee – to the deep grand pleasures of love and friendship.

I also have a newfound respect for people in chronic pain, and I new understanding of my role as an acupuncturist and herbalist and of the greatness of the gift of relief. Somehow, I end up feeling grateful for my experiences – whether they bring me joy or sadness – because they all bring me closer to my humanity – and to the glory of life.

With time healing occurs;  wholeness returns. My bones knit themselves back together, my ligaments restitch themselves, and my heart mends its cracks. When it’s all done, I’ll have integrated my previously broken self into a new whole self, changed and stronger for it all and with the scars to prove it.