I stopped drinking on October 8, 2007. Life has by no means been a breeze since that day. In fact, the winds of change have quite aggressively tossed me around these past 15 years.
Recovery is much more complex than just putting down the drink. Recovery for me has led to unearthing so many things once buried, mostly the blissful soul that was placed on this earth 58 years ago. It indeed has been a challenging self-examination that has had many moments of discomfort. But with all its rigors and ruggedness, I know I am not alone.
I believe that many people are in recovery from something. Physical, emotional, and spiritual pain do not discriminate. And so, I wish for you, in whatever healing journey you might find yourself on, the same that I wish for me as we walk home together on this planet in the middle of everywhere.
I wish …
To nurture the unhealed wounds in your heart, so you can begin to feel relief from suppressed pain.
To forgive yourself for mistakes made, so you can release any lingering shame you might still be holding on to.
To accept yourself, so you can begin to accept others. We are many and varied and interdependent.
To have deep introspection and soul-seeking. And if you do see your soul, sit awhile with it. And if you see a shadow that makes you uncomfortable, stay even longer with it. We can learn great things from all our parts. Especially when in the belly of the whale.
I wish for you to intentionally pause with a smirk when you spot a cloud shaped like a fish. Or an angel. Or whatever your wonderful imagination might see.
To move when you don’t want to. And most definitely to move just a tiny bit when you feel as if you absolutely cannot.
To look at your toes and fingers and count them. Slowly. One by one. Like someone did when you were born. And to listen to your breath. Like someone first did when you became incarnate.
I wish for you to purposefully listen to those inhales and exhales, the long and life-giving breaths. Your body needs them. Your soul will love them.
And I wish for you to cry. To cry hard. Very, very, very hard. Tears of vulnerability have miraculous cleansing power. Trust me.
I wish for you to occasionally sleep just a few minutes longer some mornings so you can get a better look at the soul you are starting to befriend. To offer peace to that soul and then wish the same for another.
I wish for you to laugh. Form those wrinkles around your eyes and lips. Earn that face. You deserve it. And don’t forget to touch that face. Yours. Gently but with meaning.
I wish for you to hold space for grief. For yourself. For others. And to let yourself deeply mourn so you can heal and grow as the Universe wants you to.
I wish for you to love yourself. And dare to love someone back. To understand that nothing is more powerful than the light and love in our souls. Absolutely nothing.
And mostly, on this day and every day after, I wish for you to realize the power of your essence. The soothing stillness within the core of your being. The goodness that lives beneath the clutter that life piles on top of us, so you can find and feel Hope. Profound Hope.
Because Hope is a wish that often transforms into Faith. And Faith, my friends, is an unwavering certainty of the Magnificent You. I wish for you to ease into a rebirth you may never have imagined possible. There are places yet unseen that await us with unexplainable but believable awe once we loosen our grip on tired expectations.
We deserve to reside and thrive in that wonder. We have always been worthy of such Grace.
Magnificent You.
Magnificent Me.
Magnificent We.
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