I was always concerned about my son.
As a baby and infant, he seemed to take a long time to hit the landmarks that they measure the wee ones by. Or at least, that’s how I felt when I was comparing him to other kids his age. It took him a while before he walked. He was hugging corners while others his age were at track meets. It took him time to get potty trained. Meanwhile, his friend who was six months younger than him, was happily winning gold medals in Ceramic Bowl Tinkery while I was still restocking on bulk diapers and Mega Wipes. Same could be said with drawing, block building and an appreciation for the ninja arts.
There is one thing, though, that I can say about him – whenever he makes a transition to a new stage in life, he doesn’t turn back. Once those diapers were off, that was it. I used those then useless wipes to wash the tears of joy knowing I wouldn’t have to clean him again (I should have saved them for when the second kid arrived…ugh). He is still like that. He has a certain amount of time that he needs to process and take in and actually act on the new way before committing to it.
I can honestly say that he gets that from yours truly. Not sure if that’s a good thing, but bambino will adjust.
It’s been just over one thousand days that I have been sober now. I don’t normally count days – one thousand is just a nice round number, is all. I used to count at the beginning, though. Stretching the hours through white knuckles and a boat-load of hope to eke out yet one more day tired me out. If my watch had milliseconds, I would have counted them too. But I needed tangible and concrete ways to keep score, as if score mattered. Alcohol occupied 9131 days of my life (but whose counting?). A few days of sobriety may not amounted to much in the grand scheme of things, but I was alive.
I wasn’t exactly living, but I was alive.
Like my son, there were a lot of things I needed to learn. A lot. I remember being very early in my recovery and volunteering at his pre-school. I helped the teachers with lunches, cleaning up, wiping noses, putting on snow pants and washing hands. I watched as the children learned basic values and principles – friendship, sharing, appreciation, gratitude, tidiness. I stood gobsmacked one day as I realized I myself was learning the same things. In many ways, I was still an infant. L’enfant terrible transforming amongst the neon coloured Play-Do and zoo animal puzzles.
Life lessons moved me to new places. My world shook up and heated up and rattled about like a shuttle on re-entry after being in space for so long. Things that I saw in others move at cheetah-like speed, I experienced moving at glacial speed in me (that is why I have always felt my spirit guide is a turtle). I saw shifts in my fellow alkie mates that happened months later in me. Things like talking to others “normally”, creating friendships, forgiving themselves, etc. I used to get annoyed and upset and impatient. Why did it have to take so long to learn my lessons? Why me?
“Why not me?” is the other legitimate question.
But like my son and his life’s markers, I too needed time to process things. I still do. I won’t change in this way, I know it. And I have come to peace with this. I may not be patient with this at times, but I accept it. It’s just how it is with me, just as my son’s late-blooming love for things that explode and make people die (“to die their whole bodies”, as he would say) is just how he rolls.
And like a spider’s precious sac of eggs, the greater lessons encompasses and hold all those smaller lessons with grace and restrained strength. The greater lessons are the ones I wrestle with now. Or, they wrestle with me until I succumb, surrender and accept. Take it in, like bad medicine, buttercup. And what are these lessons?
I have no clue, frankly. If I knew them, I wouldn’t be pontificating about them. If I had them nailed down and charted out, I would be a guru with a long beard sitting on a mountaintop waiting for the seekers to touch my feet and gaze into my eyes as they blubbered away about life. If I had these lessons mastered, I would no doubt be dead already, as I would have nothing else to learn on this earthly plane.
One thing I have learned, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of, is that everything I don’t know can fit in an airplane hangar. Millions of them. Lined up like dominoes, echoing with the nothingness of what I don’t know. And that’s fine. You see, I was a dude who thought he knew it all, and the biggest smack down my recovery has done is to tell me I know Jack Shit about F*ck All. Ego doesn’t like that, but that’s the New World Order, sunshine. I get to start all over at the crayon and watercolour table and just try not to poke my eye out with a #7 brush.
The good news is that with all this new roomy real estate in me, I get to learn some good stuff. Back to basics. It started with not drinking, learning self-care (bathing!) and not trying to claw my brain out through my ears. And then moved on up from there. I used to have questions. Lots of questions –
How can I do this?
What will happen to that court case?
How long can I keep this up?
Why didn’t I kill myself when I had a chance?
What will happen if I drink again?
Will I get my family back?
Why does God hate me?
Immediate, clutching-at-my-own-collar type questions. Questions that ate me up and kept me up at night. Questions that poked at me while I walked around asleep to the world. Some answers came easily, some with some unwanted reflection. Some just dissipated.
These days, I just ask different questions. That is what one thousand days has given me – new questions. And unlike some of those earlier questions, there are no easy answers. No immediate relief. No sense that a cosmic egg-timer has been turned over and at the end I get to draw a new Pictionary® sketch. This game goes on until the Dungeon Master deems it done.
So the greater lessons are what sit with me now. I am just now, a scant two-and-a-half years into this deal, realizing I don’t have any answers. It’s a strange and marvellous thing to be happy realizing. It’s unnerving and yet liberating. Saying “I don’t know” brings me as much joy as “another round, barkeep” used to do back in the day. The I-don’t-know-ness of my life keeps me sane. It keeps me tuned into the Source that does know it all. I get the occasional breadcrumbs – just enough to keep the fox hunt interesting – and that’s okay. I am fine with that. I need to be fine with that, in fact.
For me, right now, living is about entering the abyss. Strapped in, ready to disco duck. And what comes my way is through others, through the simple things, through keeping a perspective that allows me to focus on what’s important and zoom out on unimportant. Wear the world as a loose garment.
I unlearn to learn – addition by subtraction.
Yesterday I sat with my son, now six years-old, at the dining room table. He in his pj’s, sick and home from school, me off of work. He asked me what half-an-hour meant, as I told him that his Nana would be there in that time to watch over him as I ran errands. I showed him on a little clock how time worked. Hour hand, minute hand. Moving of the clock, of time. I saw transitions. Motion. Forward movement. A future boundless. He just saw numbers and smiled at their new meaning. I loved that he understood this simple thing. And I loved that I saw what he saw – that today was just a day full of hours, of boundless opportunities. No need to count days when there is so much in just on single day.
That little lesson stuck with him. The big lesson taught to me by my child may take time for me to get. But the lesson is there, waiting, ready to be unwrapped as time marches on.
A little less room in the hangar these days.
This is going to stick with me – that today is just a day full of hours, of boundless opportunities. I’ve always had the tendency to get ahead of myself or want to slow down/speed up time. I love this lesson. Great post Paul!
Oh Lord. Addition by subtraction. So much for teaching Shakespeare today; my mind is off wandering now on the possibilities of what to take away to add more meaning. What do I reduce and (for shame)NOT recycle in my life? I think in terms of life recycling movements I was green before it was cool.
Fantastic post, Paul. I have lots of “time” today to fill or to not fill depending on where I want to go with these thoughts.
Thank you.
Oh man, have I been scurrying around looking for those scant bread crumbs, which way do I go, which way do I go? You’re right, it’s time to set back and see which road opens up and quit trying to bulldoze my own route. Beautiful blog. I, too, love the addition (ha ha, I typed out “addiction” first, bad habits and all that) by subtraction idea. Thank you for taking the time that you do.
Guitar lessons…. learn the CAGED method – quickest route to get there. I sort of taught that to myself then found it was an actual method years later!!! DOH!
Beautiful and thought-provoking. I especially like the 1,000 days. It reminds me of the play ‘Our Town’ – the next act is about 3 years later…over 1,000 sunrises…we talk about that in my class – why that phrase? Somehow it slows down time into moments, rather than just a bulk 3 years… and I think that goes perfectly with your post… living life minute by minute, not knowing all the answers but trusting we’ll find them and get there. Addition by subtraction…an especially nice touch. Nice to see the world through your son’s eyes.
“For me right now, living is about entering the abyss.”
WOW. I love that line. That one got me. I know for me, getting hammered was about trying to get to the oblivion, about trying to find a boat to row me across the void. The boat just wasn’t big enough. It was like rowing across the ocean in a canoe.
Thank you for that line… that sparked some thought for me today!
“And like a spider’s precious sac of eggs, the greater lessons encompasses and hold all those smaller lessons with grace and restrained strength. ” and “addition by subtraction”…powerful words! I feel you on all of this, every inch of it. You are not alone in your climb. For what it’s worth, I was the opposite, overachiever, always had to be the best at everything, and if I wasn’t or couldn’t, I wouldn’t do it. But the glitch? I NEVER took anything to completion. I never really learned the lessons of the journey I just ran the freaking race. Now it’s all about slowing down, relearning, building the foundation that was never in place. I did the same EXACT things at my sons’ school, and I felt the EXACT same way. We have a second chance, and in being present, we are also able to learn the lessons that our little ones can teach us. Thank you for making me think, and smile.
Okay, I keep seeing Pema Chedron quotes this week. That must mean something. I hope the ‘slut’ picture doesn’t. I don’t know where you find these things, Paul, but you are a brave brave man. Oh, and in our house a 1/2 hour was recently described as “a sponge bob episode.” But onto the meat of your post…I really like what you’re saying about just letting the big lessons unfold. There is time for that and reassurance that nothing is too big and we’re not missing out and that all will come in time. No rush. Perfect for us late bloomers, who are maybe not late at all.
I’ve never been a very patient woman…until I got sober. I wanted to jump ahead and be done with all this but, well, that’s not how it works now is it. I even remember telling Amy over at Soberbia that I was jealous because she hit some of her recovery milestones long before I did.
Really?
Yes. Now I’m slowing down and trying just to take life as it comes. Recovery as it comes. And not rush ANYTHING.
Because really, it’s all just moving too damn fast.
Sherry
A very few words can say so much, yes?
“Wear the world as a loose garment.”
“I unlearn to learn – addition by subtraction.”
Beautiful post!
Blessings,
Joyce
So many quotable words in your post! I must add my enjoyment of this one:
You see, I was a dude who thought he knew it all, and the biggest smack down my recovery has done is to tell me I know Jack Shit about F*ck All. Ego doesn’t like that, but that’s the New World Order, sunshine.
That’s a hard truth to bare!
In my world that sentence is translated like this:
I thought I was keeping up a façade that had everyone fooled while I was drinking. The joke’s on me because did anyone really care if I was perfect? Not one bit — I was hurting myself by protecting my ego.
Fern
Fantastic! When I read your posts, I subconciously start looking for my favorite paragraph, phrase or metaphor. It was easy today because it spoke to a part of myown character. That’s why we read, right? To find our commonalities and apply someone else’s learning to our own lives. The comfort of knowing, “Really? That’s not just me??”
I digress 🙂
My favorite part was your observation of realizing what you don’t know would fill an airplane hangar.
“Saying “I don’t know” brings me as much joy as “another round, barkeep” used to do back in the day.”
Being able to, wanting to, needing to seek knowledge is powerful, active and tangible. The joy is in the process of discovering, learning and applying. It’s how we know we are alive.
Thank you for the beautiful reminder.
Wow, that was awesome Paul. Sometimes it’s the littlest and simplest lessons that are the deepest, wouldn’t you agree?
“The I-don’t-know-ness of my life keeps me sane. It keeps me tuned into the Source that does know it all. I get the occasional breadcrumbs – just enough to keep the fox hunt interesting.”
Love it. One really does become ‘insane’ trying to know, or understand it all. I know I would become a wreck. And sometimes do with the craziness that happens in my mind, trying to overanalyze and figure things out. I’m very happy with the breadcrumbs, thank you very much. That’s all I can take.
Blessings Paul=)
Staci
What a great post, brother. Love what you had to say. Life is a series of lessons, thank god sobriety makes learning fun!
Big Paul
I never had children, but I have had the honor of sponsoring and also mentoring a few adults who are just trying to get through life.
Kinda funny the parallel.
“”There is one thing, though, that I can say about him – whenever he makes a transition to a new stage in life, he doesn’t (often) turn back. Once those diapers were off, that was it. I used those then useless wipes to wash the tears of joy knowing I wouldn’t have to clean him again (I should have saved them for when the second kid arrived…ugh).””
“”He has a certain amount of time that he needs to process and take in and actually act on the new way before committing to it.””
Sounds like a lot of people we know.
Hi Paul, there’s so much freedom in realizing we don’t have all the answers. That we don’t have to always be right or wrong. Like you shared before, there are many paths up the mountain, the only one not making progress is the one running around telling all the others their ways are the wrong ways.
I’m a big Pema Chodron fan. I have all of her books, and if I may, I would recommend to you either The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times or When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times to start with.
She also has given many talks that have made their way to audio format. One of my favorites is Don’t Bite the Hook: Finding Freedom from Anger, Resentment, and Other Destructive Emotions. Amazon has all three and more. Pema has a very down-to-earth and approachable style; she would be a fun person to hang out with. I think you’d like her work very very much.
Most of my Pema books are hardcopy, but I do have The Pocket Pema Chodron on my kindle; I’d be happy to loan it to you if you’d like.
A beautiful tribute to life and breath, Paul. Borne out of self-denial and self recovery. You know the book…Everything I Needed to Learn I Learned in Kindergarten. Be nice. Share. Etc. When I taught, I saw how the catty (female) teachers could not practice what they preached. I love how you’re asking new questions – from a new perspective – and accepting that there are no easy answers.
Come now. Ya gotta stick around for your family.
Diana
Paul,
I am beyond moved by this post, and congratulations — 1000 days, wooohooo! 😀
Reading your post was exactly what I needed to get me out of my writer’s block funk. I have had the hardest time trying to publish my “Fish Out of Water” post, but here’s my sign to move forward and finish the post. I’ve been stuck for well over a month. Thank you! You will understand better once you read it, and I hope you get some of those questions answered. I think you will.
I love this. This is the stuff goosebumps are made of. I was reminded of a quote from a video I watched “Dust That Sings by Phil Hellenes:
“They say that if you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you. I go further. I say that if you stare long and hard enough, the abyss reaches out and pulls you in and grinds your face into the lifeless nuclear ashes of dead stars, forcing you to see the chaos and imperfection. And then the harshest reality of all demands that you recant, demands that you take back your claim that you saw beauty down here, and yet, if you go deep enough, there it is again, dust; dust that dreams, dust that loves, dust with courage and kindness — dust that sings. Some things are as close to miracles as to make hardly any difference at all.”
You are in for a pleasant surprise, my friend. Few dare to venture into the abyss, but when they do, they are forever changed — and dare I say for the better. 🙂
A kindred spirit smiles. Beautifully written, Paul. Just beautiful!
Paul, I love everything you had to say here…everything. Sometimes, in the vast scheme of things, we overlook the time and dedication it takes to learn even the simplest lessons. I remember back in my drinking days, there was lots of binging on crap and even more purging out bigger crap. The more I drank, the more I thought I knew. I couldn’t have been more blind if I poked my own eyeballs out.
I had a couple of favorite parts to this piece but I loved when you wrote, “If I had them nailed down and charted out, I would be a guru with a long beard sitting on a mountaintop waiting for the seekers to touch my feet and gaze into my eyes as they blubbered away about life.” The beautiful gift about just being alive is having the ability to learn something new each and every single moment of our lives– but only if we choose to. For some people, they choose the other route by self-medicating or numbing their inhibitions instead of graduating toward something better or anew… part of the real world or the new world surrounding us.
And there are no limitations or rules when we gain knowledge and information. As the old saying goes, knowledge is power. No matter how long it takes us to get it, as long as we get it somehow, we are capable of the impossible since we are no longer blinded by the false freedoms and facades the races and binge drinking once provided us with.
Always a pleasure, my dear friend!
Sometimes posts escape my attention, and I get impatient with myself (how did you miss this?!?), and I realize that I needed to read it at a certain time to glean the most from it.
This is one such post. Had I read it when you posted, I would have missed all the wonderful comments, and I wouldn’t have gotten all the amazing wisdom from both you and your readers!
Here’s the big take-away: WHY NOT ME? I will be asking myself that question when the next snow storm hits (which, if the meteorologists are correct, will be in about 8 hours).
Also, here’s the upside to taking time learning things: it reminds me that I am human, and that is okay. God will give me what I need, not necessarily when I think I need it. It can be frustrating at times, but it can also be liberating!
Thanks, Paul, for the reminder that patience is a skill I will need to cultivate over the next few weeks of winter!