Sometimes, I can get pretty down about the world. This can happen for various reasons, such as an erratic sleep schedule, poor diet, or just basic hormones doing their thing. These days however, I seem to be able to mitigate these assaults to my serenity pretty well. Even when I go through feelings of dejection, I can still remind myself that it’s a lack of perspective.
I suppose that is what my recovery has done for me; I suppose this is one way that 9 years of continuous sobriety has healed my mind. I don’t war with myself, or anyone else today. And I realize in this most recent bout of melancholy that my talent is to see the light in everything, in everyone, no matter how shadowy a person or thing might seem. I realize in my midnight that my love for daybreak is my gift.
I can hold space for the lovers of darkness, of greed and pride and exploitation, and hope they know that there is always daybreak waiting, longing for their return to the warmth of the rays and the detoxifying nutrients of the beams of light that want nothing more than to gently and graciously redeem even the most source-deprived spirits.