looking back the end

Did I tell you about the time I almost died?
Really….no shit?!
When I was an undergrad at Michigan State – back then I was a sculpture major; as opposed to being a currently, unemployed Bostonite,
I danced with death.
Looking back I can see how accidental deaths should be their own genre – you know like comedies, coming of age films or road pictures.
I was maybe 19 at the time. It was March and I was walking back from the studio. In my memory was it was about 2PM. Do you ever play this game with yourself – where you pretend to erase the snow and trick your mind into thinking that it’s really spring? Although, spring break was just a few weeks away, there were still patches of stubborn snow on the ground and the river was semi-frozen. Actually the river had reverse islands, where thawed out portions of dark water were like a connect the dots-thing. Granted, it was ill advised, but I’ve always been a roll-the-dice kind of guy.
I started out and the ice seemed firm enough. I zigzagged my way across until I got to the mid way point. I made a nearly fatal decision to head underneath the bridge which seemed like a good idea… Occluded by constant shadow, figuring the ice would be thicker since it was shielded from the melting rays of the sun; it would be a smart, safe move. At that point, I thought I had beaten the odds and had short-cut the dreariness of conventional wisdom and plodding conventional foot traffic.
I heard the ice gently crack, but thought I had time to get to some solid physicality.
Instead, it got so fucking quiet - below the ice. At first I couldn’t tell which way was up or down. I felt like I was tumbling in slow motion – like when you were a kid and rolled down a grassy hill.
Visiting a slow motion death surprised me. It was dark – not like nite time, but more like dusk. I must have sunk down about 15 feet below the surface by the time I figured out top from bottom. Above me was sort of a paint by numbers outline of where the ice was thick and thin. The thinnest iced portions were a gray greenish white. I remember how quiet it got. I realized life might end. It was peaceful, but I wondered if I would fight to survive or just let death take me.
The current was stronger, the water much deeper below the bridge. I could see myself being pulled beyond the hole – now just kind of a glowing halo. I struggled to swim toward the hole but the cold water made my muscles atrophy, shrink down like a car running out of gas. I knew I couldn’t reach the hole, so just let the current take me. I thought I would drown. I played with screenplay, that no one would find me until my bloated body would be discovered by a couple canoeing romantically down the river.
I knew this was my last chance, I felt my lungs collapsing and I rose to the surface. There was that gray-green puddle of light I tried to reach. I tried punching through the ice but the physics of my blows were useless. My last ditch effort was to flip on my back and kick . Surprisingly this worked. I tried using my frozen, numb hands to lift myself out – like when you’re at the edge of swimming pool and can gracefully rise out of the water. The ice kept breaking and I thought how ironic – I’ve come this close. Instead, I tried laying out on my stomach and started to swim out. This worked.
I got to the edge of the river and shivering uncontrollably and went into the nearest building to warm up and tell some one about by narrow escape from death. Erikson Hall was home base to Michigan State’s future teachers. Classes were just getting out and when those dry exiting students saw me they commented, "Shit, it must be raining…"
At times when I’m really stressed, I will sometimes think about looking up at the hole in ice – that gray-greenish-white hole and know there must be another way out.

steve murakishi “recycling ophelia” site installation
Death
Well I am Death, none can excel,
I open the door to Heaven or Hell
O Death traditional ballad

What is our future? More than ever we need the domain of creative expression to reach deeper into our lives - to help us voice what is so inexplicable. We live in a complex time where the consumer can act simultaneously as the producer and client. We have tremendous opportunities for growth and freedom. Now is not the time to fear, it is a time for courage.
Change is a good thing.