ALMOST PERFECT
My life is almost perfect. It’s probably more accurate to say that the life I celebrate today is the result of an impressive line up of almost moments that either prevented disasters or eliminated opportunities that looked promising but would have kept me from my true calling. What Emmet Fox calls our ‘True Place”. That place where one begins to live their hearts desire! This morning on my run I was jarred by the memory of one such ‘almost’ moment.
I was a child of the sixties. During the summer of love I briefly visited San Francisco with flowers in my hair and psychedelics in my bloodstream. A quick trip but, with the passage of time my memories of the experience grew rosier and I began to long for an encore. So one night in the early seventies a former roommate and I, in the company of our companions de jour, decided we’d revisit the scene. Geographically and chemically. It was a late night decision and a bad one. We piled into his car with my lady friend and I in the back seat and headed north.
Opting for the Freeway rather than the scenic route, I remind you it was the middle of the night; the near empty road and the hypnotic hum of rubber on asphalt began to take effect. We were all in danger of drifting off when suddenly we rounded a curve and disappeared into a deep, blinding fog bank. At a very high rate of speed.
Time may not stand still but it slows dramatically when we’re experiencing near disaster.
As the fog bank briefly cleared we were suddenly aware of horses, perhaps a dozen, running thru the beam of our headlights. I have the eternal imprint of a huge white wide-eyed animal with flared nostrils passing inches away from my window in the back seat. The car never really slowed and as the fog allowed for intermittent bits of clarity we repeatedly threaded our way thru groups of these rider less horses who’d probably broken thru a fence somewhere.
The Apocalypse. Almost.
And that quickly the fog disappeared and the night sky was alive with stars. Beautiful stars. We all breathed a collective sigh when my lady friend asked, “Did you guys just see some horses?”
We turned the car around and headed back for Los Angeles. The fog bank reappeared less dramatically and we never again spotted the galloping mass of horseflesh.
We almost died. There’s such beauty in that word. Almost. It’s one of many such moments. Sky diving malfunctions, car wrecks, and a history of drug abuse offered the reaper countless opportunities to end this sweet life. I’m still here. I am so blessed.
There are other stories where ‘almost’ is the unseen hero. Signed to star in a film in Australia I had my plane ticket and was ready to leave when I was informed schedules had changed slightly and they were able to sign the actor they’d most wanted for the role. I wasn’t needed. Sober a few years I’d reached that point in my life when I’d begun to see ‘no’ as a gift. I knew there was something better coming. A few days later I was invited to participate in “Tin Pan South” in Nashville. I had been convinced that my musical career was over but I agreed to attend the celebration where I was to be honored as a legend of songwriting.
In Nashville I fell in love with music again. I met a wonderful writer named Jon Vezner and we sat in a room and for the first time in sobriety I wrote with another human being. The song we wrote that day was “You’re Gone” and it became a hit for the group Diamond Rio”. It was the first step in a return of my passion for writing. I doubt that I’d be President of ASCAP today, working for the rights of young music creators if I hadn’t lost that acting job.
Almost perfect. The way my life has played out, with choices seemingly being made by some marvelous unseen navigator with a better view of the future than I’ve ever had. I call him The Big Amigo and the selective application of ‘almost’ has given me a life I couldn’t have imagined. I’m learning to live it one day at a time in Gratitude and Trust.
Paul Williams is a singer, songwriter, actor, recovery advocate and has been a fixture on the American cultural scene since the seventies. His book Gratitude and Trust is now available.