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Today is no ordinary day, and we dive deep into the reflection of a life-changing moment that happened 29 years ago. We talk about September 1, 1991, the day everything shifted for me. I recount the simple, everyday things I did that day, not knowing it would be the last time I would walk or feel my body in the same way. This episode reminds us to appreciate the small miracles of life we often take for granted. We explore how living with gratitude can transform our perspective, urging everyone to pause and recognize the beauty of each moment.

Every year on the anniversary of when I broke my neck, I reflect on my life being disabled, being paralysed like I am and how it affects me. How I can find the gift in what happened, and how I can use it to help others. This year I reflect on the day of my accident, that morning and what did I do on the last day I could walk.

Reflecting on the significance of September 1, 1991, I take a deep dive into the memories of that day, a day that changed everything for me. I vividly recall waking up, feeling a sense of normalcy that would soon shatter. Each motion I made, from stretching to getting out of bed, seemed routine. I walked to the bathroom, showered, and prepared breakfast, all while my mind wandered, unaware of the impending change. That day felt just like any other Sunday, but it was actually the last day I would walk, the last day I would feel my legs. I chronicle the transition from an ordinary morning to a life-altering moment—the dive that left me paralyzed. This episode isn’t just about my accident; it’s a call to acknowledge how we often take our abilities for granted. I challenge listeners to consider what they might do differently if they knew today was their last day of independence. It’s a poignant reminder to appreciate the small things, those everyday miracles we often overlook.

As I reflect on that fateful dive, I explore how life can change in an instant and how we often live on autopilot, missing the beauty around us. I share thoughts on gratitude and the importance of recognizing the miraculous aspects of our daily lives. I emphasize that every moment is precious and that we should embrace life fully. The memories of that day remind me that love, laughter, and even the mundane can be extraordinary. I urge my listeners to pause, take a breath, and recognize the gifts they possess today. This conversation is an invitation to live intentionally and with gratitude, to wake up every morning and declare, 'Today is no ordinary day.'

Takeaways:

• Today marks a significant anniversary, recalling the day everything changed for me.
• I often think about September 1, 1991, and how ordinary moments can become extraordinary.
• On that last day I could walk, I didn't realize how special it really was.
• Living in gratitude for what we have is essential, as nothing is guaranteed tomorrow.
• Every single day holds potential and miracles; we must recognize and appreciate them.
• It's crucial to live with intention and make memories that last a lifetime.

Today is no ordinary day.

29 years ago today, everything changed.

The details are important.

Waking up a little dazed.

Stretching.

Reaching my hand, grabbing the quilt and pulling it to one side, giving me just enough room to bend one leg up and place it on the floor next to the bed.

Twisting my waist as my other leg follows my first, my torso follows in the spiral direction, upward movement.

As I come to rest, sat on the edge of the bed, I feel the floor under my bare feet.

The coldness of the air on my body as I sit rubbing my eyes with continuing effort to wake up after a few minutes, I lean forward, I push myself off the bed with my hands and I shift my center of balance over my feet so my legs can straighten, lifting my body flawlessly as I stand up.

After getting my balance, I walk to the bathroom.

This was no ordinary journey.

I lower myself on the toilet, relieving myself without a moment's thought.

Over the next 10 minutes or so, I shower, dry myself.

I wrap myself in a towel and I head back to the bedroom to get dressed.

That was no ordinary shower.

Heading downstairs, my mind wandering everywhere but here, I get to the kitchen and prepare my breakfast.

It was no ordinary breakfast.

I got on with my day.

As it was Sunday, I suspect I did something very ordinary, normal and almost mundane.

I had my whole life ahead of me.

There was no need to do anything with today.

It was no ordinary evening.

Standing on top the wall facing the swimming pool, I bend my knees slightly, moving my body weight forward as I pushed off the wall.

This was no ordinary dive.

Then I hit the bottom and at that moment, 29 years ago, became the last day I would be able to walk.

The last day I would be able to feel my legs, arms, hands and my precious private parts.

The last day I would be able to shower and wash myself.

The last day I would be able to go toilet alone without help.

The last day I would be able to wipe my own bottom.

The last day I would be able to properly feel and hold someone's hand.

The last day I would be able to stand and hug someone I love.

The last day I would be able to take a normal breath.

The last day I was ordinary.

The last day I was normal.

The last day I would ever feel my body or walk.

It was no ordinary day.

That was the last day 29 years ago, I would be able to do the many things that we all take for granted today.

It was no ordinary day.

It was the Last day I had superpowers.

Hours.

Like knowing I needed the toilet, walking, feeling my hands, and been able to be independent and sticking my finger up to the world when the need arises.

That was the last day I had superpowers.

Today is no ordinary day.

What if today is your last day that you could walk or go to the toilet in private?

Would it be an ordinary day?

Just like I thought that Sunday 29 years ago.

What did I do with that incredible, amazing day?

Nothing.

Nothing.

I don't even remember.

I have to create it in my mind.

Einstein said there's only two ways to live your life.

As if everything is a miracle or nothing is a miracle.

Perhaps if I knew what tomorrow holds, today wouldn't be another ordinary day.

Love yourself, love today.

Live with gratitude for what we have, as there are no guarantees we will have it tomorrow.

Today I can speak and communicate.

I see a billion colors.

I hear a bird sing.

And I feel the immense gratitude for those miracles.

If the ability to see is not magic and a miracle of evolution, then I don't know what is.

Wake up every morning, take a deep breath and say to yourself and the world, today is no ordinary day.

I have superpowers and I will make them count.

The small things are the big things.

It's a shame that we need to lose something to gain it.

Try not to wait until it's gone before you realize how special it is.

Life is special.

You have superpowers.

Love is a miracle.

Life is a miracle.

And living is the greatest experience you will ever have.

Today is no ordinary day.

I'm Stephen Webb, and this is Stillness in the Storms podcast.

And every year for the last few years, I wrote an article on how I reflect on the anniversary of when I broke my neck.

I was 18 years old, and when I dived into the swimming pool that night, instantly I had the challenge of my life.

For my whole life, I'm paralyzed just below the neck and my hands are paralyzed.

And it's strange how I reflect on it each year and come up with something different.

A few years ago, I reflected on the question, would I change my accident?

And I come to the conclusion I wouldn't.

I don't know what the alternative holds.

I don't know whether or not my alternative life would have been better than the one I've got.

So, no, I don't look through random tinted glasses as if I didn't break my neck.

And life would have been amazing and wonderful.

And this time I just reflected on the day before or the day of breaking my Neck.

What did I do that morning?

What did I do that afternoon?

How I would have lived that day differently if I knew that was the last day I would walk.

Interesting question.

What if today is the last day you will ever be able to see colors?

Would you spend the day thinking about your to do list, what you need to do, complaining about tomorrow, what might happen, or trying to relive a life before then?

I'm not saying we should live every day as if we're going to lose everything, because that will end up paralyzing us as much as what losing everything would do.

But we can spend a few moments each day just appreciating what we got.

Living in gratitude.

Wow.

I can see.

Look at the colors.

Look at the depth.

Wow, I can feel.

Wow.

I can love.

You know, look at it as if it's the first time you've seen color, the first time you've heard a bird sing.

You know when you look at children of 2 years old or 18 months old and they just open their eyes so wide when they see something they haven't seen before because everything is a miracle to them.

Wow, you can talk.

Wow, I can hear you.

Wow, that tastes amazing.

We have our food dished up and we gobble it down so quick in front of a TV Netflix program, and we don't even realize we tasted it.

We're already tasting the next mouthful while chewing on the one that's in our mouths.

We're already living tomorrow while preparing today.

We just got to slow down and every now and again just pause.

Maybe sat at traffic lights, maybe doing something different, maybe been intimate with a partner and just stop and pause and go.

Wow.

Ask them what's amazing about this moment and don't settle till they find a miracle in this moment.

Don't settle till you find the miracle in this moment.

Right now, you're listening to digital recording online or coming out over the radio or wherever.

You're hearing this too.

I mean, I'm talking into a microphone, it's going into a computer, and it's been sent out to you through your phone or through your headphones.

That in itself is incredible.

You imagine 150 years ago turning up and giving them this recording, and yet we blindly look at our phones, too afraid to open our hearts just in case we lose.

Too afraid to really sit in gratitude, just in case the gratitude fades away and we don't have it anymore.

We're far too afraid to live, and we're far too afraid to see the miracles and the love around us every day.

It's here and it's real.

Just the fact that you're here is a miracle.

Do you know the odds on you being alive?

Well, that's been calculated.

It's like trillions and trillions to one.

The odds on you being alive right now, you are a miracle.

You know you're alive at the greatest time in history, the longest peaceful time in human history.

It may not feel like it in 24 hours news.

It may not feel like it when we're bombarded with bad news 24 hours a day.

But the reality is we're living through the greatest time that you could ever possibly live.

Possibilities are endless.

We just got to open our eyes, open our ears, open our hearts and slow down and listen to what Einstein said.

You can live every day as if everything's a miracle or that nothing's a miracle.

You know your choice.

Today is no ordinary day.

It's never happened before.

Today is filled with more opportunities than anything.

Don't do nothing with your day like I did that Sunday.

Do something today that you will remember in 10, 20, 30 years time.

Life is special.

Life is a miracle.

Today is no ordinary day.

I'm Stephen Webb and this is Stillness in the Storms podcast.

All I can hope is that you may see your life a little different.

You may look out your eyes and see the color of the world, the sound of the birds, the gift that being here right now is.

Take care.

Thank you for listening.

Today is no ordinary day.