I didn't die today - I am ok

Sunday, 2.8.26

Intact from my notebook, this evening:

A Reflection on what it means to me to be Alive

Just the other day I was discussing daily schedule philosophy with my girlfriend. I shared that I attempt to keep in mind that I could die any day, and therefore, I try best as I can to live each day as my potential last day. This isn’t morbid, it’s just part of reality - your living days aren’t infinite, no matter who you are. Little did I know, though, how thoroughly that premise would be tested today.

I hadn’t planned, waking up this morning, for it to be my lsat day on earth, but if it was, I’d change nothing. I had a wonderful and brief exchange with my friend and artist Anthony (also President of the UK’s Royal Portrait Society) about the piece I’d submitted as his invited artist to the spring Open Exhibition. It is a massive portrait of my girlfriend, Tessa, just completed from life last weekend in Lothian, Maryland.

I drove from “Truth or Consequences” New Mexico to Deming, NM, to meet up with my friend and artist Justin, wife Meredith, kids Archer and Jordan. With their helping hands, I was able to unroll and show them the piece (not our first “big watercolor viewing in a southeast parking lot”!) And get assistance re-rolling and boxing it, stowed at the bottom level of a packed car, center in the back, seats folded down.

I drove onwards towards Palm Desert, ahead of schedule, with time to plan to see three different LA friends the next day.

As I write, now, in full honesty, my greatest and only sense of “loss” is that I will not get that hang time with those best friends back. It’s interesting to realize that even though I made no mistakes today - they could have potentially never have seen me (alive) again.

In the blinding sunlight coming directly into drivers’ eyes, 6pm or so on West 10 West of Phoenix, AZ, I had seen on my maps app a warning of objects on the road. Cars were slowing, I did too, and shifted one lane to the left most, against the median.

The first car (or truck?) that hit me from behind, I did not see. I believe it slammed me into the median. The force and sound were extreme. The second hit, a few seconds later, spun my car 180 degrees. The side air bags went off, white balloons blocking my vision. The seatbelt tightened. I was now blind to see anything, at an angle backwards on a freeway where 75mph was the limit. Given the force and circumstances I couldn’t believe I was alive, or at least, not catastrophically injured - but now was terrified of another hit - if another semi truck hit me now, I’m certain I’d die. I could not move to see the road, the car at an angle - my only view the median. I weighed my options - seatbelt off and flee? Seatbelt on and try to survive a head-on angled driver-side impact from a truck at 75 mph? Hm.

I thought of my own life, not my death. I was grateful. “Well, I lived well! I gave it all I had, all the time.” Nah - fuck that! Not feeling like dying - I love being alive! The car had auto-dialed the subaru roadside service - a voice asked me if I’d been in an accident. I said “I’m ok, I can’t see.” Then… the car started moving backwards, picking up speed. I was freaking out a bit at this new aspect I didn’t understand. I thought maybe the car was stuck in reverse? I had it in park, hazards on, parking brake engaged. What the fuck? Finally, off the road, stopped. I checked myself again. Miraculously - I was intact. I undid the seatbelt and slid under the side airbag - I saw the back of a semi-truck - the imploded black of my car attached to it, hooked on the rear steel bar. Had that impaled the driver seat - I’d be dead. I took what felt like 45 seconds to put my hands on my knees and breathe. Taking deep, slow breaths - checking the highway behind me - car carnage. Parts of cars everywhere, and six or so vehicles strewn about. A truck with a load off the road. Cars smashed into each other, and the semi that had unintentionally towed me backwards off the road. All approaching cars were stopped - the giant accident filled all lanes. Ok - the scene is safe. I checked myself again - some left forearm soreness, but no mechanical damages. I was in shorts and a tank top. Ok, next step - the other cars and drivers / passengers. The 45 seconds were likely more like 10-12 seconds in clock time. I went car to car asking “are you ok? Are you ok? Are you sure?” One woman, sent my direction by a man doing the same thing, was clearly not ok. He held her hand, they walked towards me. Blood dripped down her face and off her nose. I took her hand in mine - asked her to sit down with me (she was in shock and wanted to check the other cars too) - but she wanted to stand. Mechanically she walked ok and seemed fine to stand. I stood, asked her name, introduced myself - she kept wanting to go - I said “you are not ok, help is on the way, everything is going to be fine”. The man came back - they may have known each other? Police and paramedics were showing up now.

Ok. I am uninjured. The other people, except for one woman, now surrounded by paramedics, are uninjured. My very next thought - the painting I’d just completed and confirmed for the RP show, of my beautiful girlfriend Tessa, in the car whose back end has been obliterated, is it ok?

I check my car - it’s not on fire. I enter the driver’s side, and try to pull the painting tube box through into the front seat area. My heart fears to find it in pieces or punctured. Again, miraculously, through shards of broken window glass and a cacophony of items, a rowing machine, wooden crates, bags, clothing, emerges the 52-inch long, 4 inches to a side rectangular box - the corners not even dented. I look to the back of the car - it is obliterated. That is the correct word.

I poke around my car, pulling a few other items: my paint stuff. A scarf. My sweats. My sketchbooks and (reluctantly coming, due to how crunched in it is by the bent car frame) my rolling suitcase. Planning to maybe be sore, what the heck, my foam roller, too.

It’s close to 11pm in the hotel room (and, as I type, 1:30am), in Phoenix. A massive thank-you to Sheriff Steven for giving me and my stuff a ride here after all cars were towed (including the near-parodic difficulty multiple tow trucks had freeing my poor Subaru Forester from the back rail of the semi) and to all the calm and civil officers I interacted with.

I’ve already called family and friends. I am ok. In fact - given what went down, I would think I’d be less ok. I’m not even sure I get the “adrenaline spike” some get (yes it is late but I hand-wrote this first, typing I’m slower than with pen), or if I did, it didn’t feel so very different from some of the more intense physical efforts I put myself through.

Yes, I am extremely grateful, to be here, to be alive, to get another sunrise, but this doesn’t change how I’ll conduct myself - I already was making those adjustments. My heart is open, and I am always grateful for my living, and ready and willing to embrace reality with love. I practice it. A few minutes after the crashes, my heart rate was back to normal resting, about 53 bpm. I don’t think even the paramedics checking me out believed how ok I was. I don’t think I went “into shock”. I felt calm and in control after the initial confusion and mild panic of may car being sent backwards and not knowing why. Oh, the poor woman who had to listen to me narrating that ordeal over the Subaru emergency service! Multiple officers and medics asked if I’d been wearing my seatbelt, commending me for doing so. Do some people not? If I hadn’t, I’d certainly be dead or worse right now.

How it feels now to be alive is already how I was feeling to be alive - connected, caring, calm and composed (mostly!) under duress, in wonder at beautiful things, so grateful to be able to share those beautiful things, and cracking jokes at every chance I get because reality is amazing, absurd, hilarious. My sympathy does go out to whichever driver caused all this - but I am so glad he didn’t kill anybody today. Perhaps for him this moment can be a catalyzing force for good in his life - an illustration of the danger in putting anything other than safety as the top priority behind the wheel, and I hope it does not cost him more than it has to.

As the paramedics stood around me, taking vitals (but not blood glucose because as they swabbed me I said what are you doing? Taking blood? No. “You sure? It’s for blood glucose.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” - I’d just eaten some beef jerky), I said, “So, you guys are missing the Super Bowl, that sucks.”

“Well, Seattle’s winning.”

“Nice, I don’t follow.”

“Are you sure you’re ok? You don’t want an ambulance?”

“Nope.”

My thoughts went to upcoming events. Art Party Five - Happy to Be Alive! It’s on.

I called Max to share the absurdity, and confirm the event. Chris’s concert? You betcha. My girlfriend was in tears over the phone. I reassured her over and over. I called a few other people close to me, reassuring family one last time. Tomorrow (today), logistics, after workout and art and meditation and daily gratitude exercises. The same day, with details modified. Tonight, the same, my evening exercises. Reading. Maybe part of a Daniel Craig Bond movie, rewatched. Sleep. Awake to the sunlight, no more and no less grateful to be alive and making art and living my life than I already was.

One change, though. I had on my list for tomorrow to give my salty car a wash. That will no longer be necessary. Shame, I was rather looking forward to it.

Thank you to my family, my friends, and the other passengers and professionals for helping each other.

A few shameless plugs:

• Subscribing to the paid version of this stack gets you 50% off my original art for as long as you are subscribed. Woop!

• Seeing as my job of making art involves so much travel, and apparently with the state of drivers being inattentive and massively dangerous… I cannot deny that I am, literally, putting my life on the line to make and share my original art with you. If you believe in my work - consider a paid subscription.

• Invest in art and artists to see them continue to exist in your culture and your life. Choose not to and art and artists will go away, darkness will descend and cover the earth, etc. Aren’t you glad I didn’t die?? Me too!! I bought over $2000 worth of art last year, a very significant portion of my budget, because I love having a life filled with art and artists, so I invest in them. Even if you don’t have a large budget for art, the paid subscription here is the strongest vote of confidence and enthusiasm about my work I could possibly receive. And… it gets you an absurd 50% off the work available on my site. All the posts, everything I write and share on substack will always be free. There’s no paywall to my thoughts, essays, and processes. The paid substack exists purposefully to allow true believers in my work a chance to show it (and get insanely rewarded for it because they get 50% off my original art).

• Am I trying to flip potential tragedy into profit? You bet! Replacing my damaged stuff and dealing with this scenario is so massively disruptive that instead of starting to deal with it tonight I wrote this out by hand in my notebook and typed it up and sent it out to you!! Truthfully, I had been strategizing a more to-the-point appeal for paid subs anyways… a near-death car accident, a painting and a body unscathed, plans ruined… what better opportunity is there to ask to be invested in? If I get to at least 40 paid sub by my 40th birthday on the 17th (8 days away), I’ll send each and every one of you an original work of art! Fuck it. Life is too short, too precious not to own original artwork.

David Orrin Smith