Practice

I suppose I’m going to begin a practice of “writing” with all the meaning behind the double entendre. The experience of right action is consistently at the forefront of my recovery. Developing any practice was simply impossible during my heavy use of cannabis. It became a method of deterrence, of error. I moved to San Francisco to manifest my potential in all forms. I made a tee-shirt that read some like: “To manifest human potential in our daily lives – this is to participate with the divine.” It has taken me almost seven years to build a consistent morning and evening daily practice. Pretty cool, though. Now… its super cool. Superdooper cool. 

It takes time to be grateful. It is cultivated in me. I’m learning that gratitude is a practice. Forged through the crucibles of experience, I have learned (I am learning) how to walk humbly with my God. This curve is cumulative and I witnessed its presence today. TODAY. I’m a little over a year sober – no drugs, no alcohol – I awoke to make love – sober. I attended a High Noon, one of the strongest AA meetings in SF in the present. Then I met a dear, dear friend, a scholar, Matt Segall. Here the real miracle of my recovery, my practice, unfolded. With Matt, I lived a series of wondrous moments in life with certain knowledge of direction. It was natural flow. Many times I can recall someone offering an invitation that I know will be of generous service to my experience and for many strange reasons I experience resistance, even resentment because my ideas about my action, my experience where different than what was presenting itself. BUT, today… I was able to receive direction; it was effortless. We viewed a film on Obama. I followed Matt to the PCC opening semester party. There I shook the hand of President Joe Subbiondo. This is the miracle of my recovery. For so, so many of my silent visions and lived experiences I held great resentment over this man – the present of CIIS. I judged him, “unskillful” and that judgment often turned to deep anger at my own powerlessness to save my scholastic community from ruin. I suffered alone with these visions. I prayed for my ‘enemy’. I did a “4th step” over and over. AND tonight, I lived through a moment of reconciliation, recognition out of context and power – a hand shake, an acknowledgement of presence, persistence, patients – a practice of recovery opened these doors. I practice. God practices me.

I am going to stop fearing my truth… And continue the practice of writing.

 

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