Well, I am up walking again. 

I’m heading off in the direction of the rest of my life. 

The sun is shining, the grass is green and the flowers smell wonderful. 

I’m happy with myself and I can actually say that I feel carefree, unencumbered. 

Now, I know that I have not finished with my business of making amends, but I have made a darned good start. 

It will end when it does. 

I know that now. 

I notice something else also. 

People enjoy being with me. 

Some smile at me and some twinkle a hello with their eyes. 

I am somebody and others actually acknowledge that as they pass by.

Simply being here in the first place on a wonderful day becomes very fulfilling. 

I belong.

Finally I belong.

I have noticed that we all get off track at times in our recovery processes and routines.  Do you have an example of how you got yourself off track this week and what you did to regain your balance?

So, as I sit here and ponder my journey thus far, something that James Joyce wrote comes to mind, “Mr. Duffy lived a short distance from his body.”

That leads me to think just how often I have been beside myself with anger, frustration or disappointment.  As I ponder this thought of “being beside myself” I find myself turning inwards. Then I notice “That Presence” there with me, as I notice it there with me I hear in my mind That Voice, neither male nor female, that directs me through a simple few thoughts.  

Now ... What to do about my past

Finally, things seem to be coming to completion. 

I’ve got my cataloguing done, I've made my lists and I have become willing to fix whatever it is that needs to be fixed. 

“I’m ready!” I shout from beside the mystical stream. “I’m ready.” 

I’m also, very much in a hurry. Understatement! 

“Let’s just get this thing done so I can get on with the rest of my life,” I say to myself under my breath.

“Now, before anything else happens, I’ll just start to get in touch with some of those lost souls I may have trudged upon and say I’m sorry.  I’ll knock off a few names tonight and then a few tomorrow and it will be done in nothing flat.  Right!”

I feel a presence with me now.  Neither male nor female: that Voice just seems to be here filling some unseen space and it’s other quality at this moment is that it is silent. 

But I can feel it. 

My newfound friend and guide asks me where I’m going.  I tell him that I am off just to get a few names ticked off the list and done before nightfall, and he says, “Slow down. This is not what you may think it is.  This is not wham bam thank you and I’m sorry ma’am.”

“This is a process of setting things to right.  So, sorry does not really enter into it unless it is something that is really necessary.  Remember, every case is different.  Sometimes you can't do anything at all.”

Wise advice. 

Experience Has Taught Me

To notice and ponder,

And

To sometimes do this in the midst

Of all the urgency of my “terrible dailyness”

And

Then ask myself:

What old behaviours and ways have I fallen back into that keep me stuck in the rut I am trying so desperately to leave?

Experience Has Taught Me

Next is a worthwhile concept.

Actually knowing what needs to be done next. 

I can allow the healing of my relationships if I want. 

I have the power within me. 

I am connected now. 

It is with me. 

I am part of it. 

Amazing.

Mystical Stream / Metaphorical Backpack

So here I sit next to a mystical stream or tree or something … with a now empty metaphorical backpack at my side.  Now what? 

I notice that there is dust covering me, and I am afraid that every passerby will notice too. It is embarrassing to sit here all covered in the grunge of my past.  I feel shame and embarrassment.  I know that every passer-by can see … in my mind I am sure that I know exactly what they are thinking. I’m afraid of the “what if’s”, what if my newfound God finds out about me, too? As I think those thoughts I slowly begin to sense a feeling of warmth and certainty fill my body.  

I sense that I am safe again.  I can now both sense and hear that Voice within, and this is a poor description of that experience, but they are the only words I can use to describe what happens when I communicate with my Creator. 

The Voice is so much a part of me now and it tells me that these things that I called “my stuff” are only the things that happened, they are not who I am.  Perfect, Upright and Beautiful, Some Days My Behavior Stinks, I am not my Behavior.  I sense or hear that this Power within me loves me for me, then I remember an old phrase:

God Don’t Make No Junk.

I begin to look for someone who has already walked this part of the path, someone to share with, someone who seems to know their way along this pathway.  I know that I need to do this.  I know that I want to brush off the dust of my past.  Just like cataloguing the stuff, I now know in my heart of hearts that I must unburden myself in the presence of both my Higher Power and another living breathing human being. 

This feels scary but I know this must be done.

Who will I trust?  I ask for guidance from my Higher Power, just a short prayer and as I do I notice someone is there beside me.  I look at them and just know they are the one.

Together we sift through the dust.  For the first time in my life I feel accepted and safe.

. . . Experience Has Taught Me That . . .

I Can Allow Myself To Heal

And

It Is Work To Do That

From the Metaphor Part Four

I seem to be pointed in an interesting direction now, but this is anything but easy. In fact it seems to be a lot like work.  I have a good sense of my Higher Power now but I appear to be weighed down by who and what I think I am. 

Time to begin to examine who it is that I am or better said who it is that I think I might be. 

So, I find a place by a mystical stream and take off this metaphorical backpack and begin to examine whom it is that I think I am.

My pack is full to overflowing with stuff.  Old stuff, new stuff, embarrassing stuff, and stuff I wouldn’t tell anyone, even on my death bed, and stuff I don’t even know that I have.  There is so much stuff … I cannot count it all. 

So I reach in and take hold of some stuff, a shiny sort of thing ... a ball ... and I begin to examine it. 

I have been told to catalogue what I find, just for posterity’s sake. 

Not too sure why, other than it sounded like something I should do and one of my fellow travelers said maybe it was a good idea.  Out comes the shiny thing. I see me reflected in it and I sort of like what comes out, it shows me off to be a nice, loving sort of a person. I am actually sort of surprised, but I catalogue it and carry on. 

Then out comes a handful of goop, and it is black and sticky and smelly, and I just know everyone is looking at it and I am so embarrassed by it.  I catalogue it too and then set it aside. 

I watch both of these items in the light of day and notice something unusual. First the goop, as it is exposed to the light of day, dries out and slowly the smell lifts. I notice that it can be brushed off, if I wanted. 

I acknowledge this, and as I do that the shiny sort of thing, the loving parts of me, begin to melt into the pores of my being and become part of what I know about myself.  Interesting!

I check in with my Higher Power and I ask what I should do with all this stuff in the backpack?  The Voice of Sanity tells me, with great certainty; to continue until all my stuff is examined and catalogued. 

What a task; I don’t think I can go through with it, but I know I have to. It is part of my ritual of surrender. It really is the first action I have taken toward my own recovery.  I carry on into my future.

Experience Has Taught Me

That I am thankful for the opportunity

To come to know me