i'm not sure what this feeling in my tummy is.
it's fairly innocuous. movement so slight, deep warming, like heat from a pot bellied stove. thick smoke, soothing, enveloping, spreading throughout as if dragged from a fiercely clenched cig. and with a deep exhale, i recognize it.
tonight i visited klean for the first time in almost 4 weeks.
it was a family affair with kevin and maggie may in tow.
with 87 days under my bloat, one juicy segment of myself felt like the conquering hero. but within minutes, word of two relapses travelled faster than quick burning cigarette paper. and it was a sigh-worthy moment. and a hen-cage rattling moment.
but there was not one moment of judgement.
for that is the awe in which i regard this program.
a long time ago in the 1930's, two gentlemen created a program with no financial or religious aspirations; but simply with the intention to help others, without judgement, who were born like me.
and returning to klean reminded me what a spiritually bankrupt person i was. selfish. self-absorbed. terrified and broken.
[i'm still no adoring self-referencer...]
but klean introduced me to myself.
and to aa. and in aa there is such power. such potential to travel a path overgrown with thorny brush and jagged stone...
and to traverse it, trudge it, takes gut-wrenching, daily snot-sobbing, knee-falling, contrary-action work.
work. daily work. forever work.
[higher power, sponsor, meetings, step work, service...]
but the only things in life that mean anything to us, are those we have worked for...
so hand me a shovel...
because, this ex-janitor is breaking ground...