The Music Of Hope

Friends,

A friend of a mutual friend, Steven Luna, became aware of Carson's injury and kindly created a piece of art entitled "The Music Of Hope" to dedicate to his recovery. Steven has made this art available for purchase for anyone who is interested, and he is generously donating the proceeds to Carson's recovery. Upon first viewing it, Carson fell in love with this piece of art, seeing as it symbolizes many aspects of his life, his journey, and his future.

If you are interested in purchasing the art online for yourself, please click on the following link, and don't forget to read the comments preceding the link! We want to thank Steven profusely for contributing to Carson's recovery, and for doing so in such a unique way. 

https://www.facebook.com/WeAreAwonder/posts/805058222841131?stream_ref=10

Shattered Pearls

When each of us is born, we are given a sacred gift. That gift is like a pearl. Every pearl looks slightly different and each is beautifully unique. Because every pearl is it's own individual creation, it is impossible to replicate one's own, or that of another. The worth of each one is beyond description because it can never, ever be remade. That being said, if the pearl is damaged, cracked, or even shattered, what a horrible thing, because that pearl can never be replaced. No one can give you theirs, and you just can't walk into a store and buy a new one. You've got what you were given, and you have to do your best to take care of it because you have one, and one only. You have nothing more precious, and nothing of greater worth.

As we live our lives, it is inevitable that each of us gains experience. That experience may be exhibited in scuffs or in the slight wearing of each of our pearls. Life is hard, and each of us will undoubtedly have an imperfect pearl over the years. There is nothing wrong if such imperfections exist… in fact, it's probably a problem if your pearl is still as unscathed and unmarred as the first day you got it.

Because life is unfair, and even cruel, there are times and events where one's pearl is destroyed or ruined. In a way that causes us immense pain, some pearls are damaged beyond description. What is so tragic about these damages is that they cannot be undone, and the resulting pearl no longer has the same function as before.. You cannot weld the priceless pearl back together. There is no amount of tape, glue, or expertise that can make the broken pearl whole again. What's done is done,  and all that is left in once power is to accept the reality of the broken gemstone.

Mine is the story of a broken pearl. On December 30, 2013, my pearl was horribly damaged...  I didn't know it at the time, but it was shattered. For the first few weeks I remained optimistic that I would find it again, and that I could easily retrieve the pieces that have been lost. But as time has gone on, and to my dismay, I have realized that the endeavor of putting my pearl back together may be more daunting and more seemingly impossible than I could have ever imagined. As I have piece by piece come to see the horror of what has transpired, a phrase commonly flows through my mind, spoken by my own unbelieving, quivering voice. "I've lost my pearl… I've lost my life..." Because, like I said before, you only get one. You can't replace it, you can't fix it if it's broken, and if you lose it, you've lost it forever. So how do you come to terms with that? With the shattered fragments of what you used to have in the palm of your hand, what do you do? How do you move on? How do you move when you is what has been shattered?

Perhaps it is because not enough time has elapsed, or maybe it is because I do not accept what has actually happened, but I cannot believe that this has happened to me. Night after night I dream that I have my pearl again. I dream that I am running, walking, moving, laughing, living again just like when I had my pearl... And then I wake up and realize that it was all a dream, and that I don't have any of that anymore.

Now I'm home, trying to live like it was before, with very little success. I once told a friend that the most difficult part for me has been standing on the cliffs of decision, looking over the results of a catastrophe, and making the decision as to whether or not I can "make it work" with what remains. The question, "Do I want to do this?" has become, "Can I do this?". Before, the phrase "Never give up!" seemed trivial and somewhat of a no-brainer, "Please. Of course I won't give up. I'm one of the strong ones." But I have found that never giving up is far more significant and compelling an idea when the giving up is so much more appealing then the never giving up.

The quest of life has become a quest to find the lost fragments of my shattered pearl. The hope is that in the smoldering remains of my life I will find a piece, a chip, or even a particle of that pearl. The never giving up is exhibited in a daily never giving up hope. Hope that in that day, a part of the pearl could be recovered. It's a risk, you know. Some days I fear that all is hopelessly lost, but I keep searching. Living each day with the hope that something experienced or lived could bring back a sense of wholeness or purpose that now seems to be hopelessly lost. So in a sense, life now consists of finding life again... at least for now.

So, I go day to day searching for those pieces. I am grateful for those individuals who have proved with their lives that reconstructing a broken pearl is possible. Were their lives fixed? No… Were their problems necessarily solved? Nope, but I suppose that these individuals didn't need to have a perfect pearl to have a wonderfully fulfilling life again. In fact, many of those who have left the strongest impacts on the world have been those who have ironically found true life in the various events that seemingly destroyed that same life. Helen Keller, Christopher Reeve, Viktor Frankl... and so many more. I know that personally, my heroes have been individuals who have recollected their lives into successes despite the odds. They defied the odds. I don't believe that very many people would ask for the trials that test one to the very core, a test that could "shatter" a life... but I can see how the truest of all heroes, are the ones that are made from shattered pearls. 

This is for real… KSL interview.

Due to some technical failures, my first interview with KSL was lost and had to be reshot last Monday. I have asked several times if it is safe for me to announce that it will be showing this upcoming Sunday, and I got the greenlight. KSL news (Utah), channel 5 on Sunday, March 9 at 10:00 PM.

Carson's Road Home... Has only just begun.

This is it… This is what I've been working towards. I've gone through two spinal surgeries, a week in the ICU, and two months of intense rehab to get to this point. The time to go home has come.

"You must be so excited… I bet you can't wait to get out of here", is the response that I usually get when I inform someone of my discharge date. I mean, anyone would assume that I would want to get out of here as fast as possible, right? Well, to be honest, I'm not so sure about how I feel about the "home" Carson's road has been leading to.

One of the hardest weeks I have had in the hospital was last week (hence the lack of blog posts). It was because for the first time, going home was not just an idea, but a reality. My stay at the hospital has provided a suspended reality for me, a state of limbo if you will. While I've been at the hospital, I've had to focus only on tasks, and tasks alone. There is no worry as to my future, or how I will live the rest of my life in general. I wake up, do bowel care, eat breakfast (sometimes), go to therapy, eat lunch, go to more therapy, eat dinner, and go to sleep (with a catheterization between each of those).

Going home means facing reality. If you would've asked me how I really felt about going home last week, I would've told you that it was one of the scariest things I have ever faced. It is safe to say that I have faced some difficult things in my life, but I don't know if there has been anything that has so tried my ability to solve a problem. For the first time I am unsure of my ability to make my way through something emotionally and psychologically. This has truly pushed me to my limits in every regard.

In a way, going home means returning to the environment where I lived as an active, able person. Going home means living in the shadows of my past life, being constantly aware of the difference between what I used to be, and what I am now. There is a relentless comparison, a never ending reminder of things as they were. Going from 6'5" to 4 foot something creates a bit of a contrast of experience along with a million other things. Every paralyzed, shortened breath I take seems to whisper mockingly, "you're not like you used to be". Rehab has been difficult, and I've worked myself hard. I've been in a lot of pain, cried bitter tears, and felt incredible frustration… but I believe that Carson's real road, or his true journey, is really just beginning.

Kind and compassionate people have told me that life can be just as fulfilling in a wheelchair, and that I shouldn't expect for things to be worse, but just different. There are aspects of this idea that I definitely agree with and appreciate, but there are also aspects of my loss that I cannot deny. Living with full mobility is like living in the brightness of the sun. It's warm for the most part and one's surroundings are easily observed and appreciated. You often need nothing but your eyes to see for miles on to the horizon. One hardly needs to think about watching his or her step, or worry about getting too cold. The simple but beautiful details of life almost go unnoticed since they are so readily available.

Living as a quadriplegic or paraplegic (or with any significant loss of mobility) is like living with the light of the moon. While life is still accessible or within reach, it is deceivingly difficult. It's hard to fully enjoy the beauty of your surroundings if you are living in the dark. You are limited simply by your ability to see. Adaptive equipment is nearly always necessary to make what is possible in the sunlight, possible in the light of the moon. Flashlights, lanterns, candles, lightbulbs, etc. are necessary parts of life, required simply for survival. Because of the darkness, every task is significantly harder to achieve, and takes much longer to finish. It's true though, life is so possible in the moonlight. We all know that after a time, our eyes can adjust to the darkness. A full life can be lived without the full brightness of a sun... but would anyone dare deny the monumental difference between the sun and the moon? And after having lived a full life in the sun, the darkness of the night is dreadfully deep... And appears very unappealing.

Going home forces me to except that the sun has gone out, and that the moon hovers depressingly in its place. I don't think I'll ever get over my love for the sun... But I also understand now, that I need to reconcile myself to the light of the moon since it's the only lights available. Here I am again, facing yet another challenge, another hurdle… it seems as though life almost says (again), "I dare you to try…" I cringe every time I realize I have to take the dare, but when will life learn that after a good cry, I'll stand up and take it face on? I hate it, but in a way, enjoy proving that I won't be beat. In doing so, I recognize that my strength is not only my own, but is coupled with that of the Savior's, and all the dares he faced. If he can do it, I can do it, because i've made him my ally, and my guide through life. The night will take some getting used to, and I don't expect the transition to be easy... There'll be days where I can hardly face getting back in my wheelchair. There will be days where the humiliation of having a family member help with personal hygiene will be too much… But little by little, I'll see through the darkness. Little by little, I'll find the beauties that can only dwell in the dark places. And one day... one day, I'll strap on a pair of nightvision goggles, and fly full-speed to the moon.