Listen

"If you hear the song I sing; You will understand (listen!); You hold the key to love and fear; All in your trembling hand; Just one key unlocks them both; It's there at your command." ~ From "Get Together", The Youngbloods; Written by Chet Powers

'Tis the season for frantically cooking, shopping, decorating and traveling. We can become almost mindless in celebration of our various traditions which if done in moderation, can be an enjoyable, good thing. Traditions with friends, family and community are quite often the glue that holds us together as human beings. It's important to hold dear the conventions handed down through generations and to also introduce new, original, fun ways to usher in the holidays.

All this can be daunting, trying to keep up with the arrival of whatever holiday is pending. We can tend to shut everything else out in pursuit of perfection. We can become so focused on the immediate steps to get "there" we abandon everything else. We can even temporarily push away friends, family, and community in pursuit of that PERFECT holiday. It's easy.

What's even easier is to first shut out The Addiction. Who has time to deal with THAT during the holidays? The Addiction, our babies, can become the first casualty of the holiday rush. We don't mean to. Call it human nature. We can only keep so many plates spinning during a time of the year when APPEARANCE can override what is important - right?.

We know the holidays provide a perfect Petri dish for germinating depression and encouraging isolation. Sometimes our sons and daughters who have entered into the spiral of The Addiction and those who are in recovery choose isolation as a means of protection from temptation, from social contact, from LIFE. So how do we know the difference between normal holiday angst and the added heapin' helpin' of anxiety, and sometimes even anger The Addiction can introduce?

We must take the time to listen. Listen to the verbal and non-verbal cues our sons and daughters are sending. We can see it in their body language along with their spoken responses to the holidays. There may be a lot of I'm not worthy going on here. They may already feel as though their place as human beings for leading a fulfilled life has disappeared with The Addiction. As they see the celebrations, the camaraderie, the family, the addicted and recovering might be pulling away from life even more than before. We can, we must take the time to include, to include our addicted and recovering in our lives during this time. If we are truly listening to the songs they are singing and allow ourselves to empathetically feel their pain, we can find it in our hearts to reach out, invite them in, put our metaphorical or physical arms around them and let them know this time is for them as well.

We may not get a response, not right away, but the message is there: you ARE part of us, you matter, we love you.

Happy Holidays!

. . . keep coming back

"Knowledge speaks, but Wisdom listens." ~ Quero Apache Prayer

The Fable of Dreams

"You create continually with your thoughts. You can create basically the same life with very little difference over and over again, year after year. You can experience the same life relentlessly, with a little different color to it, a slightly altered texture. Or you can co-create with God, moving confidently in the direction of your dreams." ~ Mary Manin Morrissey

"Wake up honey," he heard her say. "Do you want to start the coffee this morning?"

"Jeez, did she have to wake me up from such a wonderful dream?" he thought to himself with a smile.

This scene had played out countless times, this morning ritual of theirs. But that was OK. It was one of few constants in his life he could depend on in a chaotic world over which he felt absolutely no control - one of his daily "Groundhog Day" experiences that would certainly, sometime soon, be interrupted by their first-born addicted child.

"Sure," he said.

The chaos would come, certainly, soon enough.

After the coffee was started he walked downstairs to the basement to perform another morning ritual.

"Wake up son," he heard himself say.

But today as with so many other days there would be no response, not even a grumble or turning over in feigned ignorance of his father's encouragement. This was the state of affairs for his son that The Addiction had created and the son had accepted - with painful regret - though the son would not presently admit. This was the life his son pretended to accept.

He would try again just before going to work. School today would be out of the question. Just knowing he had moved his boy to a conscious state would allow him to soldier through his work day, one day at a time as prescribed by the 12-Step program and countless readings he had incorporated into his daily routine. He had no idea how he was managing to hold it together in his life outside of home.

He just did. He had to. He had to keep some outward appearance that he was living amid The Addiction that would suck the life out of his family if left absolutely unchecked.

What would it be this evening when he returned home? Would he find paraphernalia placed passive aggressively, where his son knew he would find it, would there be outbursts directed at him, other family members or at nothing, or would there simply be that black, sullen, far-off stare response to any attempt at engagement?

This was the daily, weekly, monthly routine.

"How many months would this, could this last?" he would ask himself. "... certainly not years."

He felt himself expel a heavy sigh. It seemed he was experiencing this cleansing of emotions more often now.

His workday was completed with the normal victories and challenges. No one at work knew. No one knew that the challenges he came across during his nine-to-five paled against what was awaiting him at home. He was strangely calm at work. He had to be. He was fearful of what might happen if he let the pain in, even for a moment.

On the way home he considered what might await him there.

"I wonder what The Addiction has in mind for me today? Will it be waiting, quietly, but ready to spring? Will I arrive to sounds of The Addiction argument I can hear as I pull into the driveway? Will my son even be home?"

As he arrived he would find, today, it would be all of the above. He could hear his son screaming at his mother from the road, screaming about nothing, and everything. As soon as he walked through the door the screaming ceased, but he could see The Addiction was just catching its breath within his son.

Then the reason for the outburst became apparent.

"What did you do with my pipe?!" he heard his son burst forth. "And my pot!"

He had found these on the back porch the evening before, a sort of "F-you" passive-aggressive I dare you to touch my s--t message conveyed through his son from The Addiction.

"I told you if I found that stuff I'd throw it out," he heard himself SCREAM AT his son, his baby.

"It's not yours. I will "F--k" you up," was the response.

"Try it," the words came out before he even thought about what he was saying. He stepped menacingly toward The Addiction, his son.

And then his son left. It would be for the night, as with so many previous evenings when these scenes would play out. He had no idea where his son would go. He would always return - hopefully -somehow.

He looked at his wife, exhausted. They were both exhausted. They were always exhausted.

That night both he and his wife would go to bed early. The constant stress would catch up to them in cycles and this night was one of them. On this night they would require the seven to nine hours they knew they needed every night but seldom enjoyed. They needed this night to rejuvenate and recharge so they could go on, to hold up against the constant barrage of The Addiction.

But this night would be different. There would be no dreams to be interrupted.

~~~~~~~~

"Wake up honey," he heard her say. "Do you want to start the coffee this morning?"

"Sure," he said. "Are we still meeting tonight with everybody at the park?" He rubbed his eyes and looked at the alarm. They had slept for a good 8 hours. He felt both groggy and rejuvenated, the result of a decent sleep.

"Think so. I'll message everyone later today," she called out as he walked to the kitchen.

After the coffee was started he hurried into the bathroom to get a jump on his day. He had a huge series of client meetings ahead of him and wanted to get into work early to make sure he could leave on time to meet everyone. Before he walked out the door he kissed his wife, then, as he closed the door blew a kiss to his son in the basement.

He had made the decision weeks ago that only his son could save himself. He would support him with unconditional love but not allow The Addition to suck him and his honey deeper into the addiction vortex.

He hurried home from work in time enough to change into his running gear. This would be a short run with friends through a park central to where most of them lived. These friends were from the running club that would meet together each Saturday for long runs, an endorphin-charged assembly of the most positive 200 or so people he and his wife had ever met. This group of friends they were meeting this evening were half-marathoners who considered themselves only half crazy as compared to the marathoners.

He and his wife had decided to take the plunge for the next session and signed up for the "Full" training.

"Fully cray-cray," he thought to himself with a smile.

The running club had given them a purpose outside of the The Addiction while they continued to watch, encourage and love their son. They were between training seasons and the group of friends was using this run as an excuse to catch up and grab tacos afterward.

When they returned home they saw their son upstairs in the living room watching TV.

"How was your day babe?" was all he said. He accepted the lack of an answer as a positive, a victory - one little victory amid the chaos. His son was home, upright and not responding with acrimony.

He decided to watch some television with his son for the half hour until he would go to bed. He would offer no suggestions or encouragement on how his son might progress toward a recovery that seemed nowhere in sight. He would just be present with his boy, a sign that he would always be there for him whether or not his son would admit it.

"Goodnight son," he said as he rose out of his chair.

"Goodnight dad," was the reply.

"Another little victory," he mused. "One minute at a time, or as they say in marathon training, stay in the mile you're in - or the minute you're in."

This was the life he was now leading - a life of some fulfillment amid the horrors driven by The Addiction over which he had no power. He knew that, finally. Now only if his son would come to the same realization.

He would sleep well he knew, a short run followed by the meal with friends took him and his wife a bit outside their normal bedtime and he was tired. Their next training session would be starting soon and he knew he needed to get back into the habits of proper nutrition and sleep to sustain them through their next endeavor - 18 weeks of marathon training.

The training season would end with a flourish, a marathon completed, and a "PR" (personal record) for them both - since it was their first marathons. The next step was to plan a team dinner to celebrate. He had put himself in charge of organizing the event.

"Life is pretty good," he thought to himself as he felt himself drift off, "... even with our son's struggles."

~~~~~~~~

"Wake up honey," he heard her say. "Do you want to start the coffee this morning?"

These words shook him awake as if they were in the midst of an earthquake.

"What, what is going on? Was I living a dream, or dreaming a life that could be? But it seemed so real, so perfect." he thought to himself. He turned away from his wife so she couldn't see his anguish.

"Are you OK?" asked the love of his life, the woman with whom, through whom he had grown so much through the ordeals of The Addiction.

"I had a dream. This dream ... ," he collected himself so he would not seem, well, crazy, "This dream, seemed so real. It was like, like ... "

"Like we had turned a corner in our relationship with our son," she said.

"You had the same dream?" he asked, still turned away from his love. "That's crazy, there's no way."

"Yes. That's what I'm trying to tell you!"

He turned to her and they embraced. They were laughing, hysterically, and crying at the same time.

"We know what we need to do now," he said.

"I love our son," she replied.

"Me too, but we can't keep surrendering our lives to The Addiction. It's not helping us and our relationship, or our relationship with him, and it's certainly not sending any kind of positive message to him about living life apart from his addiction. We can love him and support him, and be there for him but live our lives too, can't we?"

"Think so. But maybe not a marathon? Maybe 10K training, or half marathon?" she smiled.

"Yeah, definitely not marathon training!" he laughed. "I'll call Sam and Linda today. They train with some running club near us. Sam's been bugging me about joining for almost a year.

"What's at work here?" she wondered aloud.

"I'm not certain, but I sure am going to accept it."

"I love you," she said.

"Love you too."

As he left the house for work that morning he blew a kiss to his boy in the basement and whispered a message only he could hear to convey what he hoped The Universe might carry down the steps to embed into the soul of his boy, "I love you and will always be there for you, for whatever you need, but you must find your way my son - as must I"

He would say this each day upon leaving his home, hoping, someday soon, dreams might just come true.

. . . keep coming back

"There's no time to lose I heard her say; Catch your dreams before they slip away; Dying all the time; Lose your dreams and you will lose your mind; Ain't life unkind?"     ~ Keith Richards, Mick Jagger

When It's Time for a Little Push

"We do not need magic to transform our world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already. We have the power to imagine better."           ~ J. K. Rowling

There will come a time when our sons and daughters in recovery or even at recovery's brink, might be ready, ready for a bit of incentive to resume the journey upon which they have embarked. There may be certain pathways they must embark upon which to them may seem like roads to impassable next stages on the progression from the jail created by The Addiction. Some may call it being stuck, others, parents and loved ones might revert back to past toxic behaviors, characterizing the temporary pause in our children's progress as laziness, freeloading or even cowardice.

"She was doing so well."

"He was on the road to a normal life."

"What's WRONG with him." 

"Why doesn't she just get on with it."

Unlike the robin fledgling in early spring that will jump from its nest to both explore its surroundings, and test and strengthen its flying muscles and feathers, our sons and daughters may not have this instinct. They have been beaten by too many interruptions in their early lives. They know too much about life yet do not have the experience to handle the freedom that comes with an existence not driven by The Addiction.

They know what to do, but have no idea how to start or what dire results might ensue if they jump the nest. The long range goal may be all they see, not the easier baby steps to get there.

As I said, they know what to do. They may have been beaten down by The Addiction but not anymore. They are an intelligent bunch. The vortex they dove into wasn't a result of stupidity or LACK OF MORAL CHARACTER.

They can handle a nudge, a little bit of "adulting" to move them along those first steps.

We as parents can pick one or two pathway suggestions they might want to take. We have it in us to be gentle with the nudge, but firm. We no longer cajole or shame our children along their way.

But we should be prepared for pushback, the I Know or I will responses that are painfully familiar from our time we spent with our children in the cloud forest, in the muck of The Addiction.

This is when we say, "I love you," and walk away. We've done as much as we can do. As always, it is ultimately up to our children.

Watching our children as they re-embark on their journey can be painful to us but remember not nearly as painful or as frightening as it is to them. A belief that they WILL flourish will help as we watch our fledglings test their wings. They can do this.

And so can we.

. . . keep coming back

"Let us not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless when facing them." ~ Rabindranath Tagore

Walking the Walk

"The world is changed by your example, not your opinion." ~ Paul Coelho

The 12-Step Serenity Prayer, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference," might seem like a call to action while demanding the exact opposite. Even those who have not entered into any 12-Step programs available to the addicted and those otherwise impacted by the disease can get the essence of the message:

Let go, and let God, god (Him/him or Her/her), the Universe, Great Creator or any other higher power  - something explainable only by some sort of faith in something OUTSIDE OF OURSELVES - take over. But how do we do that for ourselves while making our surrender visible to our children?

We walk the walk of those who have learned not to beat their heads against the wall created by The Addiction.

Those of us who have children spiraling through the vortex of addiction, or whose children are in recovery, re-learning the lessons of life missed while spiraling, come to know, eventually, hopefully, that reacting, fixing and confronting do nothing to "save" our children. It also does nothing to "save" ourselves.

We have a long walk or drive - if I may - to our recovery as we show our children a path to theirs through our example of living a life as completely and joyfully as possible. The "hard part" is keeping our hands off the steering wheel while our children navigate the driver's ed of their stumbles through addiction or recovery from the spirals. And we can show them, as we keep them close by in our passenger seats, by how we drive our lives, that road raging through life does nothing to improve anything.

They will see. They will learn. They will stop engaging in the battles with The Addiction and start engaging with LIFE. They will pull themselves out of the muck, the vortex - their "hard part" - and begin that long journey to the light.

We will then begin a journey together, perhaps to different destinations that may be equally the same yet totally independent, to a place where lives are well lived.

Stay the course. Keep your hands off their steering wheels. Walk the walk and we can live the lives we were destined to achieve!

. . . keep coming back

"Find your joy and let it run your life." ~ Cleo Wade

Angels Never Leave Us

"Do not feel lonely. The entire universe is inside you." ~ Rumi

So you're feeling stuck, or maybe simply taking a breather from the journey, or seeking temporary shelter from storms raging all around. We all know, hopefully by now, this is ok. We know our keep moving mantra is important to our well being, to our quest to finding our truest TRUE SELVES. But sometimes when there are multiple roads diverging in the yellow wood, or when we just need to step back, we can take a break, and sometimes we should.

Does that mean our momentum stops?

Not at all.

I have very recently been reminded that the angels we have encountered along our journeys remain in our lives even if we feel we have lost touch.  And those other unexplained encounters and even events experienced as we struggled through the muck and mire of our early skirmishes out of the cloud forest are still providing energy and unexplained direction in even our darkest times of uncertainty and doubt.

Have you felt it? Have there been times when you were not quite sure how to react to an event borne of The Addiction or the remnants of the disease and you decided to simply NOT to, and wondered why you took that counterintuitive path? Have you trusted in your emerging True Self instincts for the first time in what seemed like ages?

Those angels you have encountered, the leftover ripples of power from your previous experiences when YOU said to The Universe, "I am not going to live like this anymore, but I will still love, cherish and pray for my child," that defiant manifesto, are results of your lingering efforts in the early months or years of your journey. The Universe never gives up on us, the Great Creator never ceases to watch over us.

We have created a perpetual motion machine of unlimited possibilities.

Go ahead. Trust me. We can hop back on whenever we're ready. The pathway is still there.

And we are never, never alone!

. . . keep coming back

"Angels are not any extraordinary beings with wings and a halo. They are ordinary people living ordinary lives. But they have special qualities that touch our heart and soul in special ways. They are truly our best friends." ~ Aarti Khurana

Another Lesson Learned From the Running Life

"Slow down and everything you are chasing will come around and catch you." ~ John De Paola

If you haven't figured it out yet I am a runner and I love it. I run even when nobody or nothing is chasing me with a community of "like-minded idiots" as I call the running club I have been a part of for over three years. This group of people of all ages, abilities, backgrounds and ethnicities is quite possibly the most positive collection of souls I have ever met. After all, the newbies who join us each year actually believe they can finish their "goal races" of the 5K, 10K, half marathon, or marathon, or even the ultimate tests of the 50K, or 50 or 100 mile ULTRA races, having never achieved these goals in the past. We are truly a crazy conglomeration of humanity.

It is June and we are all between training. Winter/Spring training ended with races in April through the first weekends of May. Summer/Fall training begins the last Saturday of June. So what is an endorphin-starved person to do? You sign up for a half marathon the second weekend of June, the Race 13.1, to maintain your "fightin' fitness," hoping Mother Nature won't throw a premature jolt of heat and humidity to spoil the party.

The previous year's race had been moved inexplicably from the gentle coolness of a late May schedule to a June date and was a scorcher with temperatures nearing the 90s and accompanying humidity. Nonexistent were the flower-covered fields along the path from previous years. Runners were met with a route more suited to filming a dystopian, post-apocalyptic science fiction movie than a race through picturesque greenways and wildlife preserves. It was memory burned into the minds of the runners who endured the ordeal. There were no fond recollections of this race, which thinned this year's race participant count.

I had run a half marathon in early May in which I PR'd (personal record) so this was going to be a fun run, at a pace where I could enjoy myself and the company of friends along the way. There were a number of us who gathered prior to the race from the running club and we all commiserated about what pace we would go so we could enjoy ourselves.

"At least it's not as hot as last year," I heard someone say.

But it was becoming hot enough!

Just prior to the race our running club team gathered and separated into groups with similar pace goals for the day. Six of us agreed on a pace suitable for enjoying the race on a day that was quickly becoming sunny and almost cloudless, unlike the weather predictions for mostly cloudy and cool-ish conditions. The National Anthem was played and we were off.

Soon it was clear that a few in our group were going to push it a bit harder and they separated from us within the first mile of the 13.1 . Had I not heard a voice of reason next to me from a runner with much more experience, I would probably have joined them.

"Let them go," she said.

And we did.

We ran a smart race. As the heat burned and the elevation of the course increased, decreased and increased again we would slow, walk, increase and decrease our pace. For weeks the weather had been rainy and cool yet somehow humid at the same time - a perfect greenhouse - and Mother Nature greeted us with her full array of flora. We noticed the Black-eyed Susans, the daisies. We slowed to smell the roses, and the honeysuckles, and almost careened into each other on a stretch of the trail covered totally in mud.

We came, we saw, we laughed.

We had a grand time. We finished, together.

It was a life lesson learned.

Sometimes you just have to slow down. You can enjoy the moments without competing. There is enough time for the fast pace, for the "let's go for it" mentality.

Sometimes it's OK to just ... let ... go and enjoy what the Great Creator has laid out.

You can simply Live, Laugh, AND Enjoy!

Try it sometime. At your own pace!

. . . keep coming back

"Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." ~ Lao Tzu

The Fable of the Portal

"Every exit is an entry somewhere else." ~ Tom Stoppard

The posture had become habitual, an uncomfortable comfort she had grown to accept along a journey that had taken her so far. She had beaten her beasts, slain her worst tendencies, cleared her mind, and soul, partially, from years of self loathing and abuse. She, not anyone else had made the decision not to live THAT life anymore.

Yet what life lay ahead was the uncertainty. She had wasted so many years, missed so many opportunities to learn, fail, succeed, then fail again, she wondered where the next pathway in her life would lead. So there she sat, each day in her room, glued to a screen of games and "adventures", offering a hypnotic respite from having to take that next step to living THAT real life she was meant to live.

This was comfortable, yet a foreboding surrounded her like a shroud.

"What am I so afraid of? she wondered.

She functioned. If you would see her on the avenue, in the grocery or bodega you would not think her to be a captive in her own home. Yet there she would sit, staring at a screen and removed from her world of possibilities.

One day she awakened and something seemed different. She wasn't certain what it was and put this intuition to the side for the time being. Her intuitions had missed the mark over the past few years she thought to herself with a chuckle, Her intuitions had led her down some dark pathways.

This was a weekend, a Saturday, and for once in a long while she was not working - thankfully. It had been a long week. She returned from the nearby convenience store after picking up some this and that, a boxed nitrate-laden breakfast and a few Red Bulls and bottled waters for the day. It was an expeditious expedition to avoid any unnecessary personal contact. She was out and back in less than ten minutes.

When she returned home to her room something was different. She knew she had turned off the television prior to her breakfast run yet could hear a humming drone of the TV speakers signaling an issue with the signal.

"Shit, the Internet must be out again," she complained to no one.

She entered her bedroom and the droning of the speakers immediately got louder. "That's odd," she thought.

And what she saw when sat at her normal place at the end of her bed alarmed her. Instead of a blank screen typical of when the Internet would be interrupted she saw what people used to refer to as "snow", its accompanying white noise but with the odd addition of the humming she had never before heard emanating from the screen. As she stared at the snow she swore she could see forms seemingly dancing, coming and going as temporary images within the specs of white, black and gray.

"Weird."

She arose to get a closer look and as she approached the screen she could feel something tugging at her, pulling her closer to the dancing images.

"This can't be."

She reached out her hand to touch the two-dimensional display and at that instant, everything was gone! And so was she.

"But to where?"

When she was able to she opened her eyes and found herself in a place. There would be no other way to describe where she seemed to be. There was no furniture, landmarks or any points of reference to determine how large or small this place was, big or small, expansive or confined. All she could see was the same black, white and gray snow surrounding her and scattering off her like dry snowflakes in the wintertime. The snow was collecting around her - ominously.

As she turned to determine if there was anything to see beyond the snow she noticed a lightness in the distance through a clearing in the blizzard surrounding her. She moved closer to where the light was emanating and could barely discern a form. She soon realized what she could see was herself, sitting on her bed, controller in hand. In her horror she moved closer to get a better view of this image and was stopped by a clear barrier.

"Had she somehow been transported inside the television?" she wondered.

She peered at herself on the other side of the barrier and her heart sunk. "Is this what my life has come to?" she asked herself aloud.

And she started to cry. Her sadness engulfed her and saturated her body. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and onto the barrier. Almost immediately the image on the other side changed. She could see herself as she was years ago, "out of it," with no direction, drive or goals, duty-bound to the chemical-of-the-day she had chosen as an escape from life, from everything. She pressed her body closer against the screen and felt the same pull she had felt prior to her transport into the snow. Her recoil was immediate and visceral.

"NO!" she screamed! Never again would she travel that path; go on THAT journey.

The scene changed almost as soon as she had drawn away from the barrier. There were images of family assembled around her, holding her, then the scene moved again to her alone on her bed, crying.

Her life was playing out before her. SHE was the mindless entertainment, the multitude of channels and choices available for viewing.

"Choices," she pondered. Perhaps this is my time, my chance. Perhaps The Universe is not playing a cruel trick on me. Perhaps this is my shot.

She continued to watch as the images moved more quickly now. She saw herself as a little girl, happy, before the dark days. This would not be her choice. She decided going forward was what she wanted, not going back.

"I might not remember the pathways that lead to my downward spiral," she thought.

Then, she saw herself as she had never imagined, surrounded by people clad in colorful, seemingly outlandish attire, some who knew her history it seemed, some who did not. She could see, no, she could feel her past meant nothing to these people. She wasn't certain what the connection was. All she knew a connection was there.

Fearful this image would change, that this would be another opportunity lost she moved closer to the barrier, touching the screen almost to the point of embracing it. Immediately she was joined by two of the dark, gray-black-white forms she had seen before her transportation.

"GO!" said one.

"NOW!" said the other.

She pressed as much of her body that she felt she could against the barrier and in an instant, again, everything was gone.

When she was able to she opened her eyes and found herself back in her bedroom, at the edge of her bed.

"This can't be!" she cried aloud. "What was the point of everything, of all of this? Why this intricate ruse? Who is behind this cruel game being played on me? Don't you see I don't want to live life like this anymore? I've seen what my life can be!" she ended.

As she lay on her bed, tears streaming in rivulets down her face her phone rang. She collected herself as best she could.

"Hello?"

"Hi, my name Alejandra. You don't know me but a mutual friend gave me your name. She thought you might be interested in meeting up with a bunch of us for a bike ride. Would you like to GO?"

"When?" she asked.

"NOW." said the stranger, Alejandra.

"GO, NOW," she remembered the message of the forms in the portal, and smiled.

"Where are we meeting?" she asked.

"Look out your front window," said Alejandra. "Our mutual friend thought it best not to leave anything to chance, or to give you too much time to think about it."

She lifted the blinds and saw at least twenty-five people dressed in outlandish cycling attire.

"This is exactly what I saw through the barrier, she thought.

"Give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll be right down."

And as she prepared to leave she looked at her television screen that was no longer humming, but the snow remained. She picked up the remote control and just prior to pressing the power button she could see two forms through the screen, her former barrier. They seemed to be waving to her.

"Goodbye my friends," she heard herself say and with that, pushed the button, and began her life, again.

 . . . keep coming back

"Go forth into the busy world and love it. Interest yourself in its life, mingle kindly with its joys and sorrows." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Time To Get Your "Sing" On

"Each of us has been blessed with a purpose that makes our heart sing." ~ Madisyn Taylor

We are all focused on our journeys, are we not? We advance, retreat, we choose one path over another depending on our current state of mind or where our attention needs to be at any particular point along our chosen track. Often we can become so fixated on progress we can forget who we really are, who we wanted to be long ago, who we were meant to be.

What does that mean exactly?

The journey is the thing, certainly. We are striving to become more true to our true selves, more real, for ourselves and our children who only want the same. We are a beacon, or can be, showing the way for our fellow parent-travelers and our addicts and addicts in recovery. It's a lot of pressure to be sure, eased by the pilgrimage and our progress along the way.

Can we become too focused? Can we lose sight of the signposts along the way? Are we so concentrated on keeping our heads down we cannot see what The Universe beckons us to explore?

What turns you on? What was it, years ago you relinquished for the immediate crisis-of-the-month precipitated by The Addiction?

Can we start just one more plate spinning in our lives?

The answer is, must be, YES!

When we think about what passions were once there, or even percolating years ago, we should try not to perceive these as wild detours from our chosen pathway, but as side trails leading to undiscovered treasures along the way. We can always keep our main journey pathway close by, in sight, while we unearth joys, talents and dreams for years stifled by our plunges in and out of the The Addiction's vortex with our children. We will discover treasures which can lead to communities of people who like us, simply want to reclaim life's potential joys, positivity and vigor. Joining in communities of human beings who may or may not have been touched by The Addiction we may also find new perspectives on how we might live life to the fullest.

So what is it that you have forgotten? Are you a singer? - you can join a chorale or choir; Have you wanted to run a 5K, half marathon, marathon or perhaps even one of those crazy Ultras (not Mich Ultra)? - join a running club; Have you always had a penchant for writing? - then START WRITING  DAMMIT!

Take that outside path, the nature trail jutting just to the right, or left, off the beaten track. Become the adventure you were meant to be. It's in you. It's in all of us. Take a moment to Seek and See, then take a deep breath and embark on a new journey to your first undiscovered realm the Great Creator always knew you were meant to explore.

Get out there and sing, shine and show up - be your own beacon to your best. You'll be amazed at the places you'll see, what you'll do and where you'll go. It's a chance worth taking to meet a new and exciting YOU!

. . . keep coming back

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Limericks for St. Paddy's Day

"Next time somebody complains that you have made a mistake, tell him that may be a good thing. Because without imperfection neither you nor I would exist." ~ From Into the Universe by Stephen Hawking, 2010

When I think of what I tried to do
I realized that I had no clue
Now I know the Addiction
Is my son's affliction
And is not on my path to pursue

The mistakes that I made were not rare
And it's not because I didn't care
When you're blinded by fear
You know nothing is clear
But I have my own crosses to bear

A son and his father are one
It's a bond that cannot be undone
But it is no wonder
When it's torn asunder
The split's a non-permanent one

When I was confronted with pain
I fought it again and again
Once I acquiesced,
I can now attest,
My life was no longer a strain

Synchronicity is quite a word
A belief in unknowns is absurd
Though The Universe' aim
Might not always be plain
To seek it is always preferred

The boy was locked in his chains
The girl was in constant constraints
One day they decided
and miraculously Guided
Chose divinely a life more humane

A confident soul can subdue
The buildup of drug residue
Give it time you will see
You will all soon agree
That our children WILL find their own TRUE!

. . . keep coming back

"When you're in a Slump, you're not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done." ~ Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You'll Go

The Fable of the Dark Place

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing; Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before ..." ~ Edgar Allen Poe, "The Raven"

He had been here before, the dark place, a cold, dank, chilled to the bones isolation.

"Had this become his forever existence, his human condition until his flame burns out?" he thought to himself. "A flame would be nice right about now," he mused.

He shuddered at his attempt to downplay the gravity of his current situation. This might be it. This might be the point of no return. Yes, he had been here before, but never had he felt the same resignation to this as a life to just ... accept.

For months it had seemed he had been crawling down a slime-covered descent, a slight negative slope leading him to more darkness. To where he was uncertain. There was no comfort in this trajectory. There was no improvement in the condition. The darkness seemed to become darker, if that were possible, the slime enveloping his clothing, his face, hands and consciousness as if to assimilate him.

"Am I becoming the darkness?" he asked himself.

But the downhill was easy. Uphill would be hard. Uphill would take effort, a decision.

He could only feel his surroundings. As he progressed he perceived his habitat widening and for the first time in what seemed eons he could actually lift his head above the muck, He reached above to discern if the cave was widening when he felt the weight of his upper body pulled down by gravity, plummeting him to an even deeper darkness.

Then, there was nothing.

He awoke to find he was able to sit up and actually stretch his legs, back and arms alleviating years of cramping and unending stiffness in his joints and extremities. He was in a chamber. But how deep, how wide, and how far he had fallen, he did not know.

For some reason, he felt relieved. He could sit up. He could extend his legs and arms. This was much better than the months of crawling through the muck.

"I could get used to this," he thought.

And so, he would sit in the chamber, his chamber, for how long he did not know, or care. This was comfortable. This was acceptable. This was ... fine.

Soon he realized he was atrophying. He did not long for a return to the muck but he knew in the muck he had at least kept moving, even if on a downhill path further into the abyss. The movement had kept him alive. He knew too much time in the chamber would kill him.

He had noticed for a long time while enjoying his current relative comfort there were exits from the room, scarcely accessible, but reachable. When he would approach one or two of the exits he could feel a barely discernible cold, damp air flow. These seemed to lead to the familiar downhill slope.  And from others, an upward trajectory as far as he could tell seemed to maintain a warmer and more constant breeze.

To proceed downhill or uphill, toward more cold and dampness or something different - these were his options.

He knew it would be an easier transition to move to the familiar, the downhill. Perhaps there would be another chamber where he could again collect himself. Perhaps he could muster enough strength to lift his weakened body toward an upwards pathway if he were to again take the downhill, for just a while.

"But would there be that opportunity from another room. What if this is my only chance," he pondered. 

He had made decisions like this before. He had decided before, not languished. He had taken control of his life, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. This was a frightening prospect however, to this time rise to the occasion, instead of allowing the gravity of his own situation to further drag him to stagnation.

With what seemed to be his last bit of energy he could bring forth he leapt to the nearest upwards opening. He could feel the warm breeze flush against his face, hands and arms, and pulling himself into, then pushing through the small opening he found himself wholly into the tunnel. The ground seemed warmer, less murky and easily more inviting than what he was accustomed to. This would be a long journey but he felt buoyed by the prospect for something different.

As he proceeded he was enveloped by a sense of fear, different than what he had ever experienced in all his time in the caverns. This was a fear mixed with possibilities, a fear borne of being unsure if he would be worthy of the warmth, of the inviting, of anything positive, new or uplifting.

"Would I ever merit what might be?" he wondered.

As he continued he could feel the air becoming warmer, sweeter. The dank stagnant air he had learned to live with as his forever reality was being swapped for something different. Finally, he recognized the sensation:

"It feels like ... LIFE!"

Soon he saw a faint glow ahead which became larger and brighter. The light became so bright it was blinding. He was now moving through his tunnel with new resolve and with one final push, emerged as if born anew.

As his eyes finally adjusted to the light he saw he was surrounded by smiling faces, people with varying degrees of dirt and muck on their clothing, remnants of similar struggles as his. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, the warm breeze that had led him to this place upon his skin. It seemed as if he had expended all his remaining energy in his final push into the light when one of the faces reached down and helped him stand. He was upright on his own for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

This smiling face who seemed to have less of the muck on his clothing than the others broke the silence of the group.

"Look around you," he began. First, you are not alone. You will never be, unless you choose the solitary life again. Your possibilities are endless. It is but for you to decide in which direction to proceed. You will encounter more of us along the way. We are everywhere, there, there and there to assist if you are willing to accept the wisdom of those who have gone before. You will stumble, you will fall, but there we will be, always, to help you up and make certain you do not again stumble into the caverns if you are willing to accept the help of those who have gone before.

"I don't know what to say," he said.

"Do not say, DO," said the smiling face. "Welcome to your journey. It begins NOW"

"I'm afraid," he replied.

"We know," said the one, smiling even broader, "Now go and don't worry, Put your trust in what you do not know. We'll be with you."

. . . keep coming back 

"There is a time for departure even when there's no certain place to go." ~ Robert Frost  

Be the Second Grader

"Consider the second graders, how they perceive the world." ~ St. Matthew 6:28 (sort of)

My day job often takes me to school districts to consult with teachers and staff, and I am often placed in rooms in full view of the procession of children, mostly of the K through 12 category. Over the years I find the most endearing to be the second grader. No matter what the time of day, the time of year or what earth-shattering events are transpiring around them - to which they are typically oblivious - these elementarians plod down the hallways looking around at the walls and other surroundings in wonder, as if they are seeing it all for the first time.

Mind you, the decorations on the hallway walls or on tables or shelves to display 3D dioramas do not change daily or even sometimes weekly.

The second grader's world is one where everything is new, full of wonder and possibility, all the time.

As I sit in the room assigned to me I am always reminded to pause, breathe, and be just a little more like the second grader each day.

Adults tend to see the same damn thing every day. When in traffic, we only see the traffic. When walking to the mailbox we only see the myopic tunnel-vision view of the walk from our front door to the curb. Even when we walk a nature trail we often pay attention only to our footing, never taking the time to stop, look around and wonder at the wonders of The Great Creator.

We're missing so much.

It's time to be a little more like the second grader. When we see the world with an inquisitive mind we become recipients of all The Universe has laid out for us if only we are open to the possibilities the second grader seeks every minute of every day.

Remember the constant, repeated "Why?" of the child. That was when The Universe was asking US to open OUR minds. Did we discount this or enter the world of the young, unspoiled mind? It's a gentle place, a place where our hearts open as wide as our eyes.

Our children who have lost this innocence to the pull of The Addiction must see in our eyes, minds and hearts the glimmers of hope of the second grader. It's a way we can model a better life for them as we continue on the pathway to our best selves.

. . . keep coming back

"There is no enlightenment outside of daily life." ~  Thich Nhat Hanh

Owning Our Well Being

"Ego says, "Once everything falls into place, I'll feel peace." Spirit says, "Find your peace, and then everything will fall into place." ~ Marianne Williamson

We are, all of us, on different paths on our recovery journeys, at different stages of recovery as parents of addicts and addicts in recovery. It can seem as if we are taking one step forward and two steps back as we attempt to reclaim our lives from The Addiction and on good days, one step forward and one or maybe a half step back.

Then there are those days - we have felt them even though it can be hard to admit - where forward progress toward the next beautiful life vista is measured not in steps but in leaps and bounds.

It is then we realize we have become gently militant about our well being.

We know how in the past we confronted attacks on our well being. We reacted. We attempted to play The Addiction's game of kill or be killed, and lost. We lashed out at our sons and daughters who were so deep in the vortex with The Addiction they had little or no empathy for the effects of their behaviors on the world around them.

We dug in our heals to fight the beast.

At some point we gave ourselves a Dr. Phil talkin' to:

"How's that workin' for ya?, we asked ourselves.

And thus began the incredible journey of our recovery to living our lives, to hating The Addiction while loving and keeping a close eye on our addicts. We reclaimed responsibility for our own lives, understood that in the words of AlAnon that "we didn't cause it, can't cure it and can't control it".

Yes, that first one (cause) is a tough one NOT to own, but it can make all the difference if we truly understand that until we sever the guilt bonds of The Addiction nothing positive will happen in our lives. Relinquishing ownership for the disease of addiction and making the leap of faith to take ownership of our own lives - which is the converse to the futile attempt of fixing others - we can eventually realize there are vistas and adventures out there The Universe is daring us to experience.

We will know the transformation has begun when lashing out at our children is replaced by a loving silence, when we respond to the predictable bullshit spewed out by The Addiction not with anger or even agreement, but by gentle, thoughtful responses.  Our transformation becomes near complete when we meet the ATTACKS on our souls by The Addiction with love in our hearts for our children, a silent prayer, or a compassionate reminder to our addicts and those in recovery that nobody, especially the parent who loves them, should be spoken to in that way.

We stop fanning the flames of The Addiction's insatiable need for confrontation and isolation. Our children may become weary of the fight, the constant estrangement from everything and everyone they used to hold dear - or they may not.

The hope is one day, they come to us and say:

"I can't live like this anymore."

In our hearts we might say, "No Shit!", but keep this to ourselves and simply say, "What can I do?"

By owning our well being, becoming militant about exploring what futures The Universe is ready to bestow upon us we prepare for the lives we were meant to live and begin the preparation for when our children are ready to do the same.

It's a long, hard, bumpy road but worth every stumble, every misstep, every bruise, scrape and gash along the way.

We will look back on our journey of transformation to well being, at the scars borne of the struggles we have endured and realize something very simple:

"I did it!"

. . . keep coming back

"Scared and sacred are spelled with the same letters. Awful proceeds from the same root word as awesome. Terrify and terrific. Every negative experience holds the seed of transformation." ~ Alan Cohen

Cha-Cha-Cha Changes

"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is awaiting us. ... The old skin has to be shed before the new one is to come." ~ Joseph Campbell

We've crossed over the annual threshold again, the out with the old and in with the new time of year accompanied by resolutions, temporarily overcrowded health clubs and the seasonal plethora of ads for diet strategies and home fitness equipment. Unfortunately, the resolutions will typically come and go, the crowds will thin at the health clubs by March, diets will be abandoned for what is comfortable and familiar (i.e.; fat) and the Nordic Trak®,  Total Gym®  and other machines Santa brought will soon become convenient hangers for clothing not destined for the dryer.

Resolutions lost are a result of a less-than-resolute commitment to change. Resolutions kept and maintained require a sense from within that we don't wish to live like this anymore, whatever this happens to be. We need to want to stop living the lie of saying we want to change. The realization goes beyond change and becomes a transformational experience.

True change happens when we incorporate into our lives as many little life differences as we can that can lead us slowly, methodically and determined, along the path to an ultimate change we may not even see coming. Many of us have attempted change as if preparing for a road trip from Manhattan to Los Angeles without filling our gas tank. What we don't realize is we have to pack, lock the doors, kennel our pets, stopthemailshutoffthegasnotifyrelativesmaptheroute and do the million other little things that will allow us to get from point A to point B.

We become frustrated when change doesn't happen overnight. We have underestimated the long, strange journey that change requires.

We get as far as Allentown, or maybe Columbus Ohio, then turn back.

When we experience true change, those closest to us notice before we do, although we have a sense that something is different about ourselves. The stairs are easier to climb, our blood pressure lowers, life starts to come gently our way rather than us constantly fighting what is ahead. People we don't know react differently to us, we react differently to them.

We say things like, "It's good to see you," to perfect (and even imperfect) strangers and watch as they react with delight to your unexpected greeting.

We embrace and voraciously take in the world rather than reacting to it.

And soon we find ourselves, not so suddenly - it's been a long pilgrimage - in Los Angeles, or perhaps somewhere else, somewhere unexpected.

And we'll ask ourselves, "How did I get here?" and realize it doesn't really matter.

We have been transformed.

. . . keep coming back

"It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for something you are not." ~ Andre' Gide

"The Jews taught me this great word - schmuck. I was a schmuck. Now I'm not. ~ Bill Murray as Frank Cross, Scrooged