The Space Between Two Events

The Space Between Two Events

MATTHEW RAYNOR

APR 28, 2025

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Hi everyone, if you don’t know me, my name is Matthew Raynor. I’m a quadriplegic, injured six years ago in a diving accident.

Before that, I was a deep-sea commercial fisherman, an avid traveler, and a full-time beach bum. One chilly April morning, I went for a swim to soothe my work-related tendinitis. I dove into the water—and broke my neck.

Since then, I’ve been on a journey of self-discovery, spiritual awakening, healing—and most importantly, service to others.

If you're anything like me, you wrestle with worry about the future. Your ego demands reassurance. Your heart aches for guarantees. The problems in front of you are big—and some days, they seem completely insurmountable.

It’s like standing at the foothills of a great mountain range. You know you have to cross it, but all you’ve got is a stick and a compass. No map. No guide. Just you and the dark, rocky unknown.

You're standing at the first point—the problem—and between you and the second point—the solution—is a vast, untamed wilderness.

Your mind races.

You spiral out.

You ask yourself: How am I going to survive this? I'm stuck out here! I have no tools! I'm alone!

It’s easy to get swept up in that drama.

When I'm working toward something important—like finding a way out of the nursing home, carving a path into software engineering, or battling health problems—I can get so lost in the fight that I completely lose sight of the horizon. I get seasick. I get nauseous. I can’t see the sky.

This desperate need to fix the situation, to label things *good* or *bad*, is part of the trap.

Because in reality, there is no good or bad. No right or wrong.

These are illusions our mind creates—survival mechanisms—but they have no wisdom in them.

When we finally set off into the rocky unknown, we start slow.

We breathe.

We scan the ground for footholds.

We propel ourselves forward.

Our blood pumps. And somewhere along the way, we begin to feel alive.

We hear the birds.

We look up—and a hawk darts overhead between the trees.

Suddenly, we're present.

The sun warms our face.

And in that moment, we wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

It's perfect, right then and there.

We lose sight of the destination.

We sit by the river of life, watching it flow, and realize:

Life isn’t about reaching the second point.

 

Life is about living in the space between.