In his book The Dangerous Animals Club, Stephen Tobolowsky mentions more than once that he had broken his neck while on a horseback riding trip in Iceland. But in the book he never tells the whole story. I thought it was strange that he would leave out such a huge life event—how did he survive this harrowing, potentially fatal accident?—and I've been wanting to hear about it since.
I was excited when over a month ago I came across a podcast on PRI called "The Afflictions of Love" wherein Mr. Tobolowsky relates the story of his neck injury. The podcast has been taken down from the PRI website but I found a video of Tobo performing the story for an audience. It's 20 minutes, which seems long and I'm sure you didn't plan on spending 20 minutes on my blog, but I promise it's worth it. If you listen and you sincerely feel like you've wasted your time, I'll buy you your favorite candy bar. I'm serious.
His comments at the end of the story have been stewing in my mind for the past month (again, watch to the video for full effect):
What happens if miracle and catastrophe are not these two events that happen on the edge of probability? But what happens if they are actually part of the same fabric? And that they’re not outside of nature but they are a primary element of nature itself? What if a miracle is an antidote to fate?
How do you define your miracles?