Falling Into the Ice
This photo was probably taken two years before this story but I couldn’t find something better; With two cousins
The majority of my childhood took place in a small, southern Oregon town called Klamath Falls. Living in rural Oregon allowed me independence from an early age: I was free to explore nature, run in the fields, build tree houses, drive four wheelers, motorcycles, golf carts, and generally experience things that would not have been possible in a city or suburb. For example, the first time I drove my family’s Suburban I was ten (albeit only on back roads).
During the same year that I first drove the Suburban, my older brother and I set out to explore the lowest part of our family's property. It was the middle of winter, and we wanted to investigate our pond, which we suspected was frozen over. After a scrupulous investigation (I picked up the heaviest rock I could and chucked it as far as my little, boyish body was able to toward the center of the pond) the surface appeared stable. Thus, we ventured out onto the frozen surface, embracing the human desire to travel into the unknown. “What if the ice is completely frozen?" The possible spoils that lay beyond our imagination propelling us forward.
Fearlessly, we walked out onto the ice. With fog covering the shoreline, we decided to split into two separate directions to gather intel. I am no more than twenty feet away from my brother when suddenly, the ice starts to crack beneath my feet. Gradually, and then all at once, the surface breaks completely and I plunge into darkness. Despite our strict adherence to the scientific method, the ice betrayed me in a moment's notice and before I knew what had happened, I was completely submerged under freezing water. Once my head bobbed above the surface, I gasped for life. "Help!" I screamed. "Save me brother, please." My thoughts are not communicated through spoken language but instead are written on my face. I miscalculated.
As my arms flail about, I see my brother running toward me. I reach my hand helplessly toward him, through him, piercing heaven above. I believe that I have reached my end. Death is inevitable.
My brother is given a choice: risk sacrificing his own life to save mine or return to the safety of the shore. Surely, the correct decision is to pull back. It is too dangerous. Put your oxygen mask on before you put on your child’s mask. And perhaps he had wanted me dead. He brought the cattle to the slaughter, the convenient excuse of an accident without witnesses to corroborate his retelling of the story. Feigned sadness; Unreadable affect ("We process grief in different ways, he's only a boy!") Cain killed with the intention to deceive God but for my brother, this was his opportunity. Our parents are not omniscient. The family's love, time, money—it all could have been his. Set and Romulus seized their moments, is my brother greater than these?
Despite the individual danger and the potential gain, however, the fool runs toward me. He is willing to die so that I might be saved. In his eyes I know the truth: "I would rather die with you, here, today, than save myself." It is unspoken yet I understand completely. From heaven, his hand descends into the underworld to pull me through the seven levels of hell. He is Virgil. He is Christ.
“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”
Although, he is also human. He is fallible and I pull him into sin. Into a world of impermanence, pain, suffering, and misunderstanding. My heart cries out: “Death to all! Destruction to all existence!” The firmament crumbles beneath his feet and we are together. He could not save me from heaven but had to live my experience in order that I might be saved.
At the edge of the pool that we have just created and fallen into, whenever we push down on the ice to lift our bodies out of oblivion, it breaks beneath our weight. Over and over we push ourselves halfway up onto the continually collapsing ice, as we slowly make progress toward the shore. Now, though, we have direction. We have momentum; we have a plan: Keep moving forward.
Near the shore, we are suddenly able to touch the ground with our feet. We can walk and step through the ice until we are no longer in the water. Our clothes are soaked and we are freezing but we are not at risk of drowning.
From the pond, we begin the march home. There is a hike on an upward slope that we must face. How present was I in that moment! I only thought of survival. I, or was it my brother, would shout, "Keep moving!" Our souls, intertwined and leading the way ahead of our bodies, guided us to safety like the cloud that led the Israelites out of Egypt. We, a single unit that would die or live together. "Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving" the words ringing in my mind, "keep moving." Was I screaming? Or was I silent? What am I hearing?
Keep moving.