What Is

I have been a member of a program for those of us who have alcoholics and addicts in our lives, active or not, close or far.  One of the things I cherish from this program is a little bookmark I keep, with sort of a daily schedule...take 30 minutes for myself every day, do something to improve my mind (read a book), don't nag or scold, etc. (not that I do any of these well). One of the things I try to remember (and often don't), is "Today I will accept things as they are and not try to bend everything to my own desires."

What I believe this means is that yes, we can and do have the power to change things, but profound change takes time and it takes a certain trust that we, ourselves, have great power--but that ultimately everything is in the hands of Spirit, or of whatever "outside of ourselves" force there is, even if you don't believe in any sort of spirituality.  In 12-steps, many people who are atheists begin to think of the wisdom of the group or of the recovery community as their Higher Power.

I am in a situation right now in which I am having tentative contact with a friend with whom I have been estranged for some time.  This is the third time such a thing has happened in as many years.  With the first two, they returned and asked for forgiveness (and really did ask with that very word). I don't expect that, but it is nice when it happens.  I told them both that forgiveness had already happened, that the past was gone, and we had a new slate.  And every day since I have been in touch with them, this is the case....I do not forget the past (though I don't trot it out, it is a way to stay cautious and unfoolish...if you had a cobra in your past, it is unlikely it's going to change into a dove, so even when the cobra is dormant, it's good to know that it has been active in the past).  People can and do change, though.

So what is the sensibility, now?  One: I hope for nothing.  I enjoy the small bits of repartee, which are online.  I hold out no expectations.  If I savor the moment, and only the moment, it is like looking into my hand and seeing that someone has dropped a rose petal into my palm.  If I become worried (for some reason, my fear is that this person is making fun of me behind my back...old history...), then I forget the simple goodness of the moment.

This journey is not in my hands, but wherever the journey takes me--no matter what its shape, large, small, or even not at all--my hands are open to whatever may be.