“Better a broken bone than a broken spirit.”
That is the opening line of a poem Paul Gleeson wrote a few years ago. I have always liked it. I did not think I would have to lean into it quite so literally this past week.
Ciara flew to London yesterday to attend the funeral service of our friend, neighbour and Connemara-comrade Marieke McMahon. Having battled cancer for the past 7-8 years, no one serves as a better inspiration for the strength of spirit than her.
As a mother, sister, wife, friend, neighbour, creative source and community builder. She has left a phenomenal legacy.
I was gutted not to make this funeral.
My ankle injury was worse than initially feared. But the surgery went well.
Since surgery, I have been encouraged by my natural response to the setback. Perhaps Marieke’s no-nonsense spirit has been at play. It is just a broken bone after all.
But it’s also a significant red light to run into, I’ll acknowledge that. I’ve gone from moving at speed to hardly moving at all…in an instant.
When you are forced to stop, the world looks different. Slowing down has a strange way of sharpening perspective.
An awareness of the doors that open, even as others close.
Maybe this is not happening to me. Maybe it is happening for me.
And honestly, the silver linings keep showing up.
First, pure luck. The surgeon on call was Professor Robert Flavin, one of Europe’s leading experts in ankle and foot surgery.
The impact of my failed Matrix landing on the exterior of my ankle travelled through the interior too, tearing the medial ligaments along the way, and breaking skin on the other side.
He repaired both sides, cleared out impingement arthritis and tidied up some older debris while he was in there.
I now have a sizable plate and a line of screws on the exterior of the ankle. And a bunch of sutures to help the ligaments repair.
I’d have needed surgery on this ankle at some point in the coming years anyway. I’ll recover more fully and faster now than in 10 years.
Lucky break, quite literally.
Then there is the timing. Work was naturally lighter last week so I didn’t have to cancel much. The two big client programmes I have this week were moved online by the clients a full ten days before the injury.
And next week, I am delivering two full days in one of the big tech firms. They have been amazing, setting things up so I can keep the foot elevated while we work.
The person carrying the biggest load is Ciara. We usually split a lot of the lifts, sports runs and day to day family logistics. She does even more now.
I wrapped up a strong coaching session yesterday with a group. They are supporting each other to elevate themselves as leaders, and I am facilitating the process. We finished by setting intentions for how they want to show up between now and Christmas.
Not just as partners in their firm, but as parents, spouses, siblings, friends and carers.
What about you?
Your spirit? Your potential? You at, or near, your best….what does it look like?
For now, I am taking the hint.
Better a broken bone than a broken spirit. And the spirit feels surprisingly calm.
Here’s the rest of Paul’s poem, Better. Take it in slowly, line by line.
Better a broken bone than a broken spirit,
Better a broken heart than a missed opportunity,
Better an epic failure than not even trying,
Better to be judged by others than living in fear of judgement,
Better to embrace discomfort than to avoid it,
Better to take a stand than to sit in quiet,
Better to regret a lived experience than to regret not taking a chance,
Better to live from heart than to be trapped in the head,
Better to regret the things you did then the things you could have done,
Life is precious, our time on this earth is a finite gift,
Each of us decides the extent to which we treasure or squander this gift,
The difference between treasuring and squandering life can often lie in our
ability to connect with our soul, embrace our fears and lean into uncertainty.