song yet to be sung
i have spent the last week trying to double dutch my dual-circling jump ropes of ritual-de la habitual. i am clueless whether i will ever ace this thing, but damn- it’s a gift to be able to try.
november is the month for being thankful. and my remembrance during 11/2015 is reflecting on the distance traveled. at dinner this evening i spoke with a friend about how much had changed in the 18 months he has been in recovery. on the drive home, i realized it had honestly been quite some time since i thoughtfully looked back to remember how things were with the intention of seeing the the drastic difference and the gifts i have been given. so here goes
- there is no doubt in my mind that sanity would not be woven into my life without recovery. the ability to see myself in the mirror and not cringe or silently disembowel my character has more value than price can give.
- i have learned to sit quietly with myself and enjoy the company. it took 45 (almost 50) years for me to ace that trick.
- i have lived at the same address since 2007- aside from my childhood home, this is the longest i have been in one place throughout my adult life.
- the trenches left by the claws of childhood trauma have finally begun to support new life. although i still think of packing the trunk, loading the wagon, and taking off for the hills, i have learned to pause and try to see things from another perspective. this is certainly progress not perfection.
- i have also made a healthy start in re-establishing a relationship with most of my family. this means a relationship with boundaries. ‘
- in closing, i have reached a point in my life that affords me the luxury of assisting others. among all the blessings bestowed upon me since i said “uncle”, the opportunity to have worth and purpose outweighs the rest.
i hope you all have a rich and bountiful month (or more) of thankfulness. my heart is filled with light this season.
Let me tell you
You’re at the Jubilee or you’re all alone
Because the more, the merrier is how
Friends all tell me so
The birds wake up the grass
And they tell everybody
Say it’s time to grow
The sun, whispers to the birds
Oh, the song yet to be sung
Song yet to be sung
(Song yet to be sung)
The song yet to be sung