As we near the time of year when I break out the bright-green-and-gold St. Patrick's Day pants and celebrate my sober anniversary while everyone else toasts a Guinness, I'm thinking about drinking - don't get excited - I mean in a very meta- kinda way, and trying to remember some of the things, thoughts, emotions and motivations that drove me from drinking nearly a decade ago.
That meant grabbing some old diaries, and going over some of the things that I wrote about past experiences and one small fragment of one single night of one much larger trip - and its associated journal entry - brought powerful memories back to me, and helped to remind me what it was, and still is, all about:
Viernes, 19 Septiembre dos mil y tres - de Costa Rica
The Pacific is mere feet from my door and after the rain the stars now are shining so very brightly... It reminds me that anything is possible and to always be thankful for every single precious moment of my amazing and wonderful life. How many times have I thought to myself, "wow, this is awesome, I have the best life possible?" Quite a few - that's for sure. Whoa. A lizard the size of my hand just ran up the wall next to me. NICE! I hope he eats mosquitoes.
And so, just that easily, it all comes rushing back: quitting drinking was a necessary surrender, the one glorious ego-free moment of my life that permitted me to acknowledge the reality that I was not in control and not the most important thing going on in the universe. Yet the greatest irony would not show itself until some time had passed and my recovery was well underway: by being fully present in both the gutter and the moment and so able to compass the myriad possibilities offered up by a world that didn't need to revolve around me, it seems that somehow I was granted a place in the middle of it all regardless.
short thoughts >