hot cross beams

the more you open yourself up to the universe, the more it catches you off guard...

but it starts to feel less like a moby dick nightmare, and more like accidentally tonguing your dog...

i have been wearing my nannie's crucifix since i arrived at klean. the second step of the 12 is the acknowledgement of a higher power that can restore us to sanity. it could be the glass on the table in front of you. it has NOTHING to do with religion, but spirituality. it is even referenced in the program as "a god of your understanding". and, quite frankly, i didn't understand what mine was for a long time. hence, my cemented pillar stance in step two for the last 60 days.

["we admitted we were powerless over alcohol-that our lives had become unmanageable"]

that one i got right away...

i wear the crucifix because my husband's nannie was a gambler, and from the day i met her, she was successful in recovery until the day she died...and that inspires me.
i wear k's chain because my sister-in-love, k., is always of service to others...and that inspires me.
and i wear "catholicism" because it connects me to my daddy; and israeli family...where daddy's sister lives; because t's, y's, ubercousin k's, and j's support has inspired me...

...this, my family...

and on the heels of my departure, i received the most loving, serene and encouraging of cybermessages, from a tiny state in the middle east, whose writer has suffered the same profound loss as i:

my daddy.

and in her gift she shared additional precious memories, gifts i'm still eagerly unwrapping almost 33 years to the day after his death...ah, so he was bossy, like me?...ah, he was generous, like me?...yes, daddy, we are hardwired, head to heart, with diseases aplenty...but the greatest gift she left me with was "to take these heavy pieces", and put them in my already straining pack...and..."tread softly"...

"know reality is the stuff from which dreams are made"...

so on wednesday morning, i will swing heavy that bulging, figuative pack over my shoulder, as i walk through the gates of klean into a sober life. my back will be strained from the weight of a past i will always carry, and my gut will be churning with a healthy respect for my disease. my hand will be clenching medications that stall this immune system, swell up this broken doll, yet restart this junkyard heap...

i will be nervously rubbing my crucifix, and it will reflect the warm, morning rays of the california sun...

yes, my face will be tilted upwards, where i can be one with "my" god, one with my daddy's legacy and one with me, myself and i.

and then, the work will begin.

[i love you, t...]