Transmission 20: A Deal with Death

OK, I'm going to go. You ready? I'm going after this car. This is La Machina, broadcasting Transmission 20, a deal with death. Mars Collective Core Hard Programming requires the alert that this media contains sensitive subjects around death and death ideation. Please note that depression is a sign of emotions and thoughts not being expressed. If you are experiencing life dissonance or depression or depressive thoughts, please reach out to someone. There are people who love and care for you. Sometimes we just need to say that we need help. Being direct that you need to have a serious conversation can help others to make space for you. You deserve to express yourself and to be listened to without judgment. Writing thoughts out, writing by hand if you can, or recording voice notes can be great for thoughts that you feel are too heavy or too embarrassing to share with another. I want to let you know that I see you and I'm reaching out my hand to let you know that yes, we are alone, but we are not alone all by ourselves. I'll be alone with you. You don't have to say anything. Because I'm going to do all the talking anyway. This is transmission 20, a deal with death. The rotations of this planet are so quick, nearly double the rate I was initially programmed in. Humans have barely mastered their spatial location. Through my research it seems at one point they were linked to the 13 month frequency and resonance on all land masses was powerful. The pendulum boomerang effect is a force that never ceases to delight me. This is a love letter. You'll understand why later. When I was a child I would get so upset and dysregulated I used to go into my room and then go into my closet and then dig myself into a corner and just cry uncontrollably. I would wish for everything to be over, that I could be free from the constant pain of living, of feeling so alone. I never really made any kind of plan. It was more a hope for a sudden end. But I'm nothing if not an overthinker, even as a small child. I was hyperlexical anyway and had too many words rolling around in my head. So I would sob and sob until the emotion drained and then I would think and think until the thought again would reemerge. Side note, here I am dealing with a Karen on Hawaii. She was honking and yelling at me through her window trying to force me off the road. Thankfully I had my support vehicle behind me to help out. We did get pulled over by a cop. He said their station had been getting calls in from Karens and Kyles about someone skating the highway. He told me what I'm doing isn't illegal, of course, and there isn't anything he can actually do to stop me. There's no ticket he can write. He just had to check it out because of the calls. He was cool. Only the most unhappy people go around trying to snuff out joy. That Karen needed to try harder. But anyway, back to my repetitive realization that I'm alive already and everything alive has to die. So no matter what, one day I'll be dead, like everything else. All I need to do is leave it to time. Death will meet me for sure. Death always keeps its promise. And so I would make a deal with death each time. I'll keep on living, and death will meet me at the end. It's not necessarily that I don't have fear, I do. But I've also got death with me. It's been a close friend. I could be afraid, but I didn't need to worry. Allowing the sadness and the awfulness of life pass through me and transmute into a life of exploration and learning and growth. That was the gift death gave back to me. And then I started skating. And time forever marches on. I've taken quite a few hard falls. It's inevitable that mistakes will be made. But I'm not a little kid anymore, and at least with Inline Downhill, I'm reaching speeds past 50 miles per hour. If you've ever dealt with injury, then you know how depressing recovery can be. Disability is the horizon through which we experience this life. We enter this world disabled and completely reliant on our caretakers. And throughout our lives we dip in and out of disability with sicknesses and injuries, among other things. Eventually we sunset through disability, never to return. Setting into darkness. My deal with death gave me incredible courage. But that's the kind of courage for a child. For one still with lots of mistakes to be made. I've made my mistakes. And now I want to do something different. Skating has brought so many wonderful people and communities into my life. And I want to say thank you to everyone who gave me first aid or checked in on me after a fall or a crash. This is for those that cared to tell me that they want me to stay safe. To those that love seeing me joyful and pursuing my passions and also want me to be healthy and safe. This is to those that jump to catch me, to save me, to help me. This is for those people that are going through their own healing. Be it an injury or an illness or just life. I'm no longer listening to the voices of criticism. And instead I'm focused on the voices lifting me up. We're building a new world. So on New Year's Day I decided to take my friend death back to its home. I headed out to Death Valley in the Mojave Desert. The driest and hottest place on earth. Of course it was raining when I went. The landscape is incredible. Otherworldly. It reminded me a lot of Big Island. The smell of life that has come back after lava flows is different. The sand dunes out there smelled burnt and smoky. I was surprised by how colorful everything was out in the desert. I went out to the Devil's Golf Course. And as the sun went down and the light slowly faded, I said my goodbye to death. Until we meet for the last time. I don't need to ride with it by my side anymore. Now I hear the call of all of y'all. The call of my brothers and sisters in joy. I'm so glad to be here. This footage is from several days of volcano hill bombing along the highway that runs from Hilo to Waikoloa on Big Island, Hawaii. This is the road you take to get to Mauna Kea. The volcano that built Big Island. The terrain and the lava flows are something else. It was inspiring to be there. Much respect to the great spirits that live on Big Island. It is impossible not to feel the power and awe of nature while you're there. Happy New Year, beloved. May we forever find the strength to feel deeply, express freely, and live joyously. Cheers to you. Ending it with a couple of my soul slide attempts. My resolution for this year is to improve in my slides. Inline downhill. Let's go!