2.8 Seconds

Every morning.  
Before I officially roll out of bed.  

I settle myself, and quiet my mind for 2.8 seconds.

In that one breath, I hope to find that moment of clarity where surely all wisdom dwells... With enlightenment just beyond my reach, a prodigious yawn once again overtakes me, and sucks up any available oxygen necessary for further brain function.  

And so is the case this morning, as with every morning before... I got nuthin'.

Shrugging it off as I do all my other failings, my mind drifts to bike riding. My buddy Howard was already shooting up the 605 to meet me. If there was a better way to spend a Tuesday morning than biking and chatting around the Rose Bowl, I don’t know of it. I feel strong today. I feel confident. I had been working out with a fresh vigor lately, and I was ready to Rock This Town!

My first laps around the Rose Bowl were a virtual breeze. Wind through my hair and with legs that never seemed to tire, it finally dawned on me that this is how it feels to be in shape. I smiled with that secret pride in my chest as I continued to circle the venue where I saw my first Journey concert. So bolstered with confidence, we decide to ride through Linda Vista and up to the Colorado Street Bridge. To be honest, I had to look up the official name of the bridge, as everyone around here only refer to it as “Suicide Bridge.”

We work our way up the winding hills, passing home after home we cannot afford. My heart rate quickens. My temples showing the first beads of sweat from the effort. I am absolutely killing it today...

I get so caught up in the zone, I don't even realize that Howard is now nowhere behind me. U-turning back down the hill on my one-speed beach cruiser, I come to find his sorry self slouching over the curb with his shiny new Trek laying unceremoniously on the ground. Superiority washes over me as I feign concern for his plight. I nod in mock empathy as excuses stream out of my friend like water from a fountain. After the unsanctioned rest, we finally pull in to the west entrance of the Colorado Street Bridge. Immediately, I start to scan the landscape for the perfect "Selfie Spot." I find it. The perfect spot.

But as I'm hopping off my bike, I see some hooligan not 20 yards from me looking suspicious. I just stand there as he then climbs over the fence of the bridge, in order to achieve God knows what. Righteous indignation swells up within me. With all the authority invested in me as an Asian Parent, I call out to him saying “What the hell man?” 

Does he even hear me?

With seemingly not a care in the world, the man slowly turns my way. 

Faces me directly.

And smiles...

Our eyes lock. The light of realization finally triggers in my mind. And before I could utter a word, even contemplate a response... With a flick of his wrist in the tiniest of goodbyes, he releases his grip from the fence. Leaps out in a perfectly formed arc. 200 feet down to his death... 

It seems incredibly trite to say that time stood still in that moment. It might be better to say, that in that moment, time had certainly lost all meaning. What seemed like an eternity from the time he let go, until I heard the "crunch" of his body impacting the stones below, was probably only… 2.8 seconds.

I think about that day often... I wonder what he was thinking. I wonder if he was thinking at all. Did he finally get to have his one moment of clarity before he hit the ground? Is there such a thing as a moment of clarity at all? And when you DO find it, what the heck do you do with the thing? Do you frame it and put on the wall next to your “Footsteps” poster? Do you safeguard it and lock it up in a vault? It seems to me that even if wisdom is attained, it must be applied to have any real significance.  

As I look upon my life and the road that sprawls before me, I settle myself down and take 2.8 seconds to quiet my mind.

I am an empty slate waiting for chalk. A Dominos guy waiting for the phone to ring...

And in that moment, the clarity comes:

My future is open.

And in my hands, I hold every infinite possibility...

Thank You my friend. This is the gift you gave to me. I only knew you a split of a second. But for some reason, you intentionally chose in your last moment, to meet me... I still don't understand your decision. And I don't make light of your circumstance. But from this day forward, I promise to be just as intentional as you were with me. To meet others. To touch hearts. If only for 2.8 seconds...