Tag: relapse

Poetry in Motion – You and Art


I have a friend who is an avid reader of poetry.  From time to time, he shares prose with me that inspire and move me.  I thought I’d share a couple here from these past few months…  Thanks, Mike for sharing your world…for sifting through the pebbles and rocks and finding the gems for people like me who lack attention, but welcome the inspiration.

The first section speaks most to me…

 

You And Art

Your exact errors make a music  that nobody hears.
Your straying feet find the great dance, walking alone.
And you live on a world where stumbling
always leads home.

Year after year fits over your face—
when there was youth, your talent was youth;
later, you find your way by touch
where moss redeems the stone;

and you discover where music begins
before it makes any sound,
far in the mountains where canyons go
still as the always-falling, ever-new flakes of snow.

—William Stafford

Being stuck with choices


[I started this draft on December 21, 2011.  I never finished it.  I’m positing it now because it captures where I was at the time.]

The worst place for this addict to be stuck is up in my head.  Having been sick for the past six days hasn’t helped me either.  I’ve been stuck home alone in varying degrees of pain and discomfort, restless and discontent.  Thus far, the holidays had been joyful and upbeat.  But, my inner peace has been slowly unraveling, the weight of my circumstances bearing down on my heart.  I’ve allowed myself to drift away from the spiritual connections that have kept me grounded despite the daily grind.  I’ve reverted to isolation, which only feeds my loneliness and self-pity.  And stuck in self-pity is a dangerous place for this addict to find himself.  I shouldn’t be surprised – I didn’t end up here by accident, or by some outside force that dragged me here against my will.  I ended up here by a series of choices — either actions I took, or failed to take, in response to circumstances in my life.

And, with the same relative ease that allowed me to slip into this dark place, I am able to make different choices which will bring me back to a place of acceptance, peace and joy.  I can recenter myself by letting go, and letting my Higher Power resume control.

The choice is mine.

Entering my picture of life and letting go of the frame


“The exquisite risk…[is near]…when the ache we’ve suppressed for weeks creeps into our throat, when silence appears at the edge of our exhaustion like an old friend we couldn’t find. Often, the exquisite risk is waiting on the other side of the curtains we draw and the invitations we decline. And sudden birds, if followed, will lead us there. If we only enter our picture of life and let go of the frame.”

Mark Nepo, The Exquisite Risk

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had some amazing moments of being present, of connecting with life, of entering my picture of life. I’ve been sad, glad, mad and afraid. But, I’ve seen the sudden birds and followed them.  And in those moments, I experienced the exquisite risk of which Mark speaks.  I felt so alive, whether in pain or overflowing with musical joy.  I’ve sung Beatles songs and songs of praise in my helmet, riding on my motorcycle on the interstate at 65 mph. I’ve dipped my toe in the water of deep sorrow, pain and regret, cleansing my aching soul with tears.  That is life as I want to live it.  That is being, not doing.

And, over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been human – broken and afraid, drifting back to comfortable patterns of running from the sorry, pain and regret.  I’ve suppressed the ache, drawn the curtains and declined the invitations.  But today, I celebrate those moments of weakness because despite them and through them, I’ve seen and accepted my humanness.  With the grace of my higher power, I’ve gained insight and learning even through the “mistakes” I’ve made.  The more authentically I embrace the exquisite risk, the more clear is the emptiness of the alternative choices.  And for that clarity, I’m grateful.

I also choose to celebrate the gift of sobriety I’ve been given through those moments because despite returning to old patterns, I haven’t picked up a drink or a drug.  I’ve used people, places and things to numb the pain, or to escape the reality of life on life’s terms.  But, I’ve carried the lessons of my last relapse into each day and turned things over to my higher power, seeking enough strength amidst the escape to say no to mood or mind-altering substances.  And for that gift of life, I’m grateful.  It’s gift not of my strength, but of my weakness — not of my will, but of my submission.

Just for today, I will let it be.  I will let go, and let God.  I will enter my picture of life and let go of the frame.

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