Weary world rejoice

Stepping softly toward the end of the year

I just came in from skate skiing around the lake twice, and what a joy it is to be able to do so. After last winter, a winter that included paddling the canoe on Christmas, a solidly frozen lake is reason to rejoice. There were crossroads made by our wild neighbors, coyote and fox and otter making their presence known with tracks as I left my own to intersect with theirs.

It’s Tuesday, but you get the idea. Moments of wonder can pop up anytime. (Poem from Cold Spring Hallelujah)

And as I reflect on these words I wrote about an experience I had years ago, I can’t help but think about the folks I work with now, those who struggle with addiction and are seeking a path toward recovery. Active addiction feels huge, all encompassing, like there’s nothing to be done but give in again and again and again. It can feel too vast for real change, like many of the problems in the larger collective feel too vast for real change. But then something happens when help is sought from a nonjudgmental community— a moment of connection with someone else going through the same thing, a kind word, a glimpse of something greater than yourself reaching through the darkness, a glimmer of hope that maybe things aren’t too broken to mend, even if what’s built back looks different than you wanted it to look.

Many people in recovery aren’t where they want to be during the holidays. But they are where they need to be, and eventually for many¹ want and need collide in a way that creates positive change.

LIFE-FORCE

Curiosity and patience,
ample support, a humble willingness
to begin again when necessary,
and enough space and time
for compassionate self-reflection,
along with a desire for reclamation,
create the path toward healing
that’s traverse-able
no matter how you move forward

—on recovery

I hope you are where you want to be this Christmas Eve.

But if you’re not where you want to be today (or if you wish where you were felt different) or your world seems to heavy a burden to bear, I hope you remember that a presence out there rejoices every day that you exist. That you are an integral part of the great web that is made up of all life on this planet we share. I hope you can peer into the inky darkness of want and see a light shining in the distance—and if you can’t see it, that you remember some lights are so dedicated to reaching you that they will travel from the ends of the earth to find you. Your human eyes just can’t see them yet. See if you can feel them trying, inching closer each second. Light a candle or go outside and look all the way up toward the stars so they know you’re keeping watch.

No matter what this time of year means or doesn’t mean for you, may you find reason to rejoice, even if comes as a sigh of relief at the end of a hard thing—or in the midst of one in the form of a moment of respite.

No feeling is final, recovery is possible, and forgiving yourself for finding hard things hard may just be the best gift you give yourself this year.

May you reclaim your life-force and step softly toward the end of the year on the lookout for reason to rejoice, weary or not.

1. Not all, of course. I won’t pretend addiction recovery facilities are the perfect answer for all. Recovery isn’t linear, relapse happens, and people have to begin again. But many people get the help they need from their time there, even if they find themselves in residence more than once over the years.