Bloody joints, a broken phone and my IMPROVED me


There I was lying on the alley street, blood everywhere, phone cracked, my breath taken away and my skateboard hurling off into the distance. And in that moment, I met the new ME.  The ME I'd been cultivating for so long. A strong, courageous, faithful me.

Before I introduce you to her, let me back up.

I grew up around skateboarders. Always thinking they were the definition of  cool. Always thinking, I wish I could do that. I wish I could have fearless fun and freedom. Always dominated though by my relentless and very loud mind gremlins which told me that skateboarding wasn't for me. Skateboarding was for the cool, the confident, the coordinated. Skateboarding was for the guys. So, I didn't water my skateboarding dreams. I just watched from a distance in admiration.

Until a few weeks ago.

A few weeks ago my son declared he was going to be a skateboarder. So in my attempt to create common languages between us (since I so don't speak Lego, swords or superheroes very well), I declared back, I'm going to do it with you! So I went out and got the cutest skateboard I could find, laced up my adorable Adidas and got to cruising.


Immediately, I was hooked. And that's an understatement. If I wasn't on my board, I was thinking about being on my board, loving those moments of freedom and fun that I previously assigned only available to others. Witnessing this expansion of myself, limitations having evaporated, seeing myself outside of myself, this time with the pride arrow pointing directly at me, was a freedom more fulfilling than the freedom of skateboarding itself.

And then I crashed.


As I laid on the ground alone, after the kind of fall that leaves your insides shaking, knowing that my plans for the week were going to now need to be dramatically altered due to my injuries, I closed my eyes and inhaled, with a giant satisfied smile on my face. I had fallen because I dared to try. Retired me wouldn't have even gotten on a board, let alone attempted to travel down a road that I wasn't "ready" for. But that's not even the cool part. Meeting myself as the new... the NOW me was in the moment that I laid there, watching the sun immediately start to heal my open wounds, as I got openly curious, beginning to search for the Universe's message. Trusting that there was one.

And it was in this experience that I witnessed another side of improved me.

Let me explain...

The retired ME would have immediately gone into victim mode upon hitting the ground, wondering how could this happen to me, what I did to deserve these scrapes, this pain, this totally broken phone... how could I possibly run a business and be a mom when I couldn't even get up... feeling defeated and sorry for my self in every which way. My shame tapes would have blared, screaming messages like, "Who do you think you are skateboarding? You have always been uncoordinated. What an idiot. How utterly irresponsible." But improved ME, didn't even flirt with those roads... not a single one of those powerless, pitying thoughts emerged. Instead improved me got faithfully curious, unquestionably knowing that this accident happened FOR, not TO me. And whereas truthfully I still haven't "figured out" why it happened, and I may never know (and honestly don't even feel I need to know), I do have wholehearted confidence that it needed to happen. Because if it didn't, it wouldn't.

The best part is that I earned this improved me. Or rather I created her. You see that's the thing. We have a choice. In every moment, we have a choice. We can play the victim in our story and remain motionless, or we can play the creator and soar. I choose to play the creator... the creator of my thoughts and reactions to those thoughts.

So tomorrow when I can fully extend my right limbs, I'm going to celebrate improved me with a badass skate down the strand, not looking back... but instead fully looking forward towards and with this newfound joy and freedom that was seemingly always meant to be nourished...  watered with fearlessness, passion and love.

See you on the Strand~

tristan coopersmith