I remember what it was like to dance . . .
I remember what it was like to dance . . .




How many times in your life have you heard that old cliché; “you never appreciate what you have until it’s gone.” Maybe the more appropriate questions would be; “Did you ever think something like that could or would ever happen to you? Are you someone who believes that you are immune to such things?” Or maybe, just maybe, you really didn’t give it much thought, I mean, who wants to think about something like that, right? I know I didn’t, but that wasn’t enough to prevent the accident (fractured my neck and broke my back.) that literally took the life I knew away from me and robbed me of the ability to do most everything I once loved to do.

I could go on and on about the hell I had to endure physically, emotionally and spiritually, but that wouldn’t change anything, would it? Bitching and complaining about it won’t give me back the use of my legs and it certainly won’t rewind time allowing me to change the event(s) that brought me to where I am today. The “pain” never really goes away as everywhere I look there are always constant reminders of the life I selfishly took for granted and my heart still breaks every time it happens.

Even though I am prevented from physically doing what I once loved to do, I can still remember how and what it feels like to be part of that world. Once upon a time I was a performer, a singer . . .  and a dancer. Being a performer at night was my part-time occupation, and by day my full-time career was that of a Letter Carrier, yes, a mailman. So you see, both of these jobs were completely dependent upon, well . . . my legs, which of course I pretty much don’t have the use of anymore for either of those professions. Yeah, life’s a bitch huh? But “I remember!”

I remember standing nervously back stage waiting for the curtain to open with butterflies in my stomach and my palms sweating. I remember hearing the music begin to fill my ears and thinking to myself; “I hope I don’t screw up” or “I hope I don’t forget my lines,” but I also trusted in myself and all the hard work, long hours, and dedication I poured into every rehearsal. I remember how right it felt being up on stage performing, my heart rejoiced and my spirit, freely connected to the vibrational frequencies of every musical not being played.

I remember how sad I felt when the show was over, but I took solace in knowing that maybe, just maybe, I was able to reach out and make someone’s heart a little lighter, a little happier. Music is everything to me and always will be. There are times when just listening to an orchestra playing a beautiful piece of music brings tears to my eyes and I remember and wish so badly, with every fiber of my being that I could still dance. In my mind I can picture my legs moving, but then reality sets in pretty quickly and I’m brought back down to “remembering” and have to settle for dancing with only memories.

My singing voice took a beating too when the surgeon had to cut through the front of my throat twice. Yes, there are days I’m very, no, extremely, bitter about my situation and wish that I would just die. Unless you’ve experienced a loss like this, I can’t expect you to understand what I’m going through, but I’m hoping this might help you to sincerely appreciate what you have and to never take it for granted. You never know when it could be instantaneously gone . . . forever!

I will always “remember” as remembering is all I have. I wish everyone beautiful memories and joyful hearts, but most of all . . . I wish that you always . . . “remember.”

Peace, Light and Love to all, Namaste, Jim

I humbly invite everyone to check out my website; http://www.iamperfectlychangedandawesome.com



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