Clock Watching


The Idiot's School of Lower Learning.  Student enrollment: me.
The Idiot’s School of Lower Learning. Student enrollment: me. D’uh.

I was always concerned about my son.

As a baby and infant, he seemed to take a long time to hit the landmarks that they measure the wee ones by.  Or at least, that’s how I felt when I was comparing him to other kids his age.  It took him a while before he walked.  He was hugging corners while others his age were at track meets.  It took him time to get potty trained.  Meanwhile, his friend who was six months younger than him, was happily winning gold medals in Ceramic Bowl Tinkery while I was still restocking on bulk diapers and Mega Wipes.  Same could be said with drawing, block building and an appreciation for the ninja arts.

There is one thing, though, that I can say about him – whenever he makes a transition to a new stage in life, he doesn’t turn back.  Once those diapers were off, that was it.  I used those then useless wipes to wash the tears of joy knowing I wouldn’t have to clean him again (I should have saved them for when the second kid arrived…ugh).  He is still like that.  He has a certain amount of time that he needs to process and take in and actually act on the new way before committing to it.

I can honestly say that he gets that from yours truly.  Not sure if that’s a good thing, but bambino will adjust.

It’s been just over one thousand days that I have been sober now.  I don’t normally count days – one thousand is just a nice round number, is all.  I used to count at the beginning, though. Stretching the hours through white knuckles and a boat-load of hope to eke out yet one more day tired me out.  If my watch had milliseconds, I would have counted them too.  But I needed tangible and concrete ways to keep score, as if score mattered.  Alcohol occupied 9131 days of my life  (but whose counting?).  A few days of sobriety may not amounted to much in the grand scheme of things, but I was alive.

I wasn’t exactly living, but I was alive.

Sure, this could be "living"...could also be ageist empowerment, social commentary, or an icky picture from someone's not-so-secret flash card.
Sure, this could be “living”…could also be ageist empowerment, social commentary, or an icky picture from someone’s not-secret-anymore flash drive.

Like my son, there were a lot of things I needed to learn.  A lot.  I remember being very early in my recovery and volunteering at his pre-school.  I helped the teachers with lunches, cleaning up, wiping noses, putting on snow pants and washing hands.  I watched as the children learned basic values and principles – friendship, sharing, appreciation, gratitude, tidiness.  I stood gobsmacked one day as I realized I myself was learning the same things.  In many ways, I was still an infant.  L’enfant terrible transforming amongst the neon coloured Play-Do and zoo animal puzzles.

Life lessons moved me to new places.  My world shook up and heated up and rattled about like a shuttle on re-entry after being in space for so long.   Things that I saw in others move at cheetah-like speed, I experienced moving at glacial speed in me (that is why I have always felt my spirit guide is a turtle).  I saw shifts in my fellow alkie mates that happened months later in me.  Things like talking to others “normally”, creating friendships, forgiving themselves, etc. I used to get annoyed and upset and impatient.  Why did it have to take so long to learn my lessons?  Why me?

“Why not me?” is the other legitimate question.

But like my son and his life’s markers, I too needed time to process things.  I still do.  I won’t change in this way, I know it.  And I have come to peace with this.  I may not be patient with this at times, but I accept it.  It’s just how it is with me, just as my son’s late-blooming love for things that explode and make people die (“to die their whole bodies”, as he would say) is just how he rolls.

"You know Earl, we could have saved thirteen hours and thousands of dollars  if we just added those numbers up using our fingers and toes".  Story of my life.  Beep Beep Flop Crash.
“You know Earl, we could have saved thirteen hours and thousands of dollars if we just added those numbers up using our fingers and toes”. Story of my life. Beep Beep Flop Crash.

And like a spider’s precious sac of eggs, the greater lessons encompasses and hold all those smaller lessons with grace and restrained strength.  The greater lessons are the ones I wrestle with now. Or, they wrestle with me until I succumb, surrender and accept.  Take it in, like bad medicine, buttercup.  And what are these lessons?

I have no clue, frankly.  If I knew them, I wouldn’t be pontificating about them.  If I had them nailed down and charted out, I would be a guru with a long beard sitting on a mountaintop waiting for the seekers to touch my feet and gaze into my eyes as they blubbered away about life.  If I had these lessons mastered, I would no doubt be dead already, as I would have nothing else to learn on this earthly plane.

One thing I have learned, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of, is that everything I don’t know can fit in an airplane hangar.  Millions of them.  Lined up like dominoes, echoing with the nothingness of what I don’t know.  And that’s fine.  You see, I was a dude who thought he knew it all, and the biggest smack down my recovery has done is to tell me I know Jack Shit about F*ck All.  Ego doesn’t like that, but that’s the New World Order, sunshine.  I get to start all over at the crayon and watercolour table and just try not to poke my eye out with a #7 brush.

The good news is that with all this new roomy real estate in me, I get to learn some good stuff.  Back to basics.  It started with not drinking, learning self-care (bathing!) and not trying to claw my brain out through my ears.  And then moved on up from there.  I used to have questions.  Lots of questions –

How can I do this?

What will happen to that court case?

How long can I keep this up?

Why didn’t I kill myself when I had a chance?

What will happen if I drink again?

Will I get my family back?

Why does God hate me?

Immediate, clutching-at-my-own-collar type questions.  Questions that ate me up and kept me up at night.  Questions that poked at me while I walked around asleep to the world. Some answers came easily, some with some unwanted reflection.  Some just dissipated.

These days, I just ask different questions.  That is what one thousand days has given me – new questions.  And unlike some of those earlier questions, there are no easy answers.  No immediate relief.  No sense that a cosmic egg-timer has been turned over and at the end I get to draw a new Pictionary® sketch.  This game goes on until the Dungeon Master deems it done.

This cat seems to have all the answers.  Pick him, Mr. K.  Pick him.
This cat seems to have all the answers. Pick him, Mr. K. Pick him.

So the greater lessons  are what sit with me now.  I am just now, a scant two-and-a-half years into this deal, realizing I don’t have any answers.  It’s a strange and marvellous thing to be happy realizing.  It’s unnerving and yet liberating.  Saying “I don’t know” brings me as much joy as “another round, barkeep” used to do back in the day.  The I-don’t-know-ness of my life keeps me sane.  It keeps me tuned into the Source that does know it all.  I get the occasional breadcrumbs – just enough to keep the fox hunt interesting – and that’s okay.  I am fine with that.  I need to be fine with that, in fact.

For me, right now, living is about entering the abyss.  Strapped in, ready to disco duck. And what comes my way is through others, through the simple things, through keeping a perspective that allows me to focus on what’s important and zoom out on unimportant.  Wear the world as a loose garment.

I unlearn to learn – addition by subtraction.

Yesterday I sat with my son, now six years-old, at the dining room table.  He in his pj’s, sick and home from school, me off of work.  He asked me what half-an-hour meant, as I told him that his Nana would be there in that time to watch over him as I ran errands.  I showed him on a little clock how time worked.  Hour hand, minute hand.  Moving of the clock, of time.  I saw transitions.  Motion.  Forward movement. A future boundless.  He just saw numbers and smiled at their new meaning.  I loved that he understood this simple thing.  And I loved that I saw what he saw – that today was just a day full of hours, of boundless opportunities. No need to count days when there is so much in just on single day.

That little lesson stuck with him.  The big lesson taught to me by my child may take time for me to get.  But the lesson is there, waiting, ready to be unwrapped as time marches on.

A little less room in the hangar these days.

pema-chodron-quote

46 Comments Add yours

  1. Karen says:

    This is going to stick with me – that today is just a day full of hours, of boundless opportunities. I’ve always had the tendency to get ahead of myself or want to slow down/speed up time. I love this lesson. Great post Paul!

    1. Thanks Karen – glad you found something in there that resonated. I think this is something that I will have to remember myself. I never quite get things the first time 🙂

      Blessings,
      Paul

  2. Oh Lord. Addition by subtraction. So much for teaching Shakespeare today; my mind is off wandering now on the possibilities of what to take away to add more meaning. What do I reduce and (for shame)NOT recycle in my life? I think in terms of life recycling movements I was green before it was cool.
    Fantastic post, Paul. I have lots of “time” today to fill or to not fill depending on where I want to go with these thoughts.
    Thank you.

    1. Don’t let me take away from The Bard. He’s important peeps. Get thee to a nunnery is one of my favourite quotes. Perhaps the nuns do have something to share themselves, don’t you think? Maybe I need to go there and chat with them and get a fix of what it’s really like take away, and fill up with the Big Guy.

      Green before you were cool? Love it. I was late to the game.

      I hope your thoughts wandered well. 🙂

      Blessings,
      Paul

  3. Oh man, have I been scurrying around looking for those scant bread crumbs, which way do I go, which way do I go? You’re right, it’s time to set back and see which road opens up and quit trying to bulldoze my own route. Beautiful blog. I, too, love the addition (ha ha, I typed out “addiction” first, bad habits and all that) by subtraction idea. Thank you for taking the time that you do.

    1. Hi KM! I always misspell “alcoholic” – isn’t that a riot? I miss an “o” usually. Maybe it’d denial. Or maybe I just have a mini mind meltdown at certain times.

      As for the breadcrumbs…I sometimes need a magnifying glass and a bloodhound to help me to find them. Or keep on the right track. Hard to do sometimes when it’s easier to just raze the forest and drive my new Hummer through the once fertile grounds. But I end up doing more damage than good.

      Thank you for being here – long time no see 🙂

      Love and light,
      Paul

  4. furtheron says:

    Guitar lessons…. learn the CAGED method – quickest route to get there. I sort of taught that to myself then found it was an actual method years later!!! DOH!

    1. I’ll check it out, Graham! Thanks for the advice, kind sir. 🙂

      Paul

  5. Kate says:

    Beautiful and thought-provoking. I especially like the 1,000 days. It reminds me of the play ‘Our Town’ – the next act is about 3 years later…over 1,000 sunrises…we talk about that in my class – why that phrase? Somehow it slows down time into moments, rather than just a bulk 3 years… and I think that goes perfectly with your post… living life minute by minute, not knowing all the answers but trusting we’ll find them and get there. Addition by subtraction…an especially nice touch. Nice to see the world through your son’s eyes.

    1. hi Katie – I love what you say about slowing down time into moments. Awesome way to view it. I don’t know if I have seen / read “Our Town”, but you have me curious.

      Thank you for the lovely comments…nice seeing you 🙂

      Love and light,
      Paul

      1. Kate says:

        It’s an American play by Thornton Wilder from 1938. It’s a very quick, easy read but very poignant and touching. I think about scenes from this play a lot. Here’s the link if you want to check it out – a free e-version….http://www.aasd.wednet.edu/cms/lib02/WA01001124/Centricity/Domain/74/Our_Town_full_text.pdf

  6. bornsirius says:

    “For me right now, living is about entering the abyss.”
    WOW. I love that line. That one got me. I know for me, getting hammered was about trying to get to the oblivion, about trying to find a boat to row me across the void. The boat just wasn’t big enough. It was like rowing across the ocean in a canoe.
    Thank you for that line… that sparked some thought for me today!

    1. ” trying to find a boat to row me across the void. The boat just wasn’t big enough.” I may have to steal that 🙂 I loved that, and I can identify. We certainly talk about that oblivion, don’t we? We didn’t drink to have a simple refreshing beverage on the deck (although it may have started that way), but we drank to get into nothingness. Go way past the mark into gonzo.

      Thanks for this, Laurie…wonderful comments.

      Paul

  7. tracy fulks says:

    “And like a spider’s precious sac of eggs, the greater lessons encompasses and hold all those smaller lessons with grace and restrained strength. ” and “addition by subtraction”…powerful words! I feel you on all of this, every inch of it. You are not alone in your climb. For what it’s worth, I was the opposite, overachiever, always had to be the best at everything, and if I wasn’t or couldn’t, I wouldn’t do it. But the glitch? I NEVER took anything to completion. I never really learned the lessons of the journey I just ran the freaking race. Now it’s all about slowing down, relearning, building the foundation that was never in place. I did the same EXACT things at my sons’ school, and I felt the EXACT same way. We have a second chance, and in being present, we are also able to learn the lessons that our little ones can teach us. Thank you for making me think, and smile.

    1. I hear you on your experience, Tracy. My pendulum swung that way too at times. Again, the whole thing of “what’s the point?” popped up and didn’t bother because I wasn’t ace at it. You mention your sons’ school, and I have to admit that I was worries (still do) about re-enacting my old ways vicariously through them…having them pick up on my old nonsense. So it’s been a journey for me in that sometimes I have to keep one step ahead of them!

      Here’s to building a new foundation, my friend.

      Thanks for being here – I know you’re a busy woman with a chic looking site over there 🙂

      Paul

  8. byebyebeer says:

    Okay, I keep seeing Pema Chedron quotes this week. That must mean something. I hope the ‘slut’ picture doesn’t. I don’t know where you find these things, Paul, but you are a brave brave man. Oh, and in our house a 1/2 hour was recently described as “a sponge bob episode.” But onto the meat of your post…I really like what you’re saying about just letting the big lessons unfold. There is time for that and reassurance that nothing is too big and we’re not missing out and that all will come in time. No rush. Perfect for us late bloomers, who are maybe not late at all.

    1. I am new-ish to the Pema Chedron thing. I will have to delve deeper, methinks. Amazon, here I come (like I don’t have enough to read). And yes, that pic. I was originally reluctant to put it up just because I don’t like the word, but it was too damned juicy not to put up, in context. Well, in the context that it’s utterly ridiculous and cool. I hope i didn’t offend anyone.

      Sponge Bob episode…great idea! We can substitute Team Umizoomi or two My Friend Rabbits.

      Late bloomers who aren’t late…good one to chew over…hmmmmm….

      Wicked comments as usual, K.

      Paul

  9. sherryd32148 says:

    I’ve never been a very patient woman…until I got sober. I wanted to jump ahead and be done with all this but, well, that’s not how it works now is it. I even remember telling Amy over at Soberbia that I was jealous because she hit some of her recovery milestones long before I did.

    Really?

    Yes. Now I’m slowing down and trying just to take life as it comes. Recovery as it comes. And not rush ANYTHING.

    Because really, it’s all just moving too damn fast.

    Sherry

    1. Yup – remember that too, the being jealous about others hitting those marks earlier than me, like it’s a race or something. Or something that is so measurable that I could compare. ugh. Sounds silly now, but I didn’t feel silly about it then. I have caught myself doing it now and then, and wondered why I was doing it. Silly.

      Thanks for relating, Sherry. I can always count on you for support:)

      Namaste
      Paul

  10. iamsobernow says:

    A very few words can say so much, yes?

    “Wear the world as a loose garment.”

    “I unlearn to learn – addition by subtraction.”

    Beautiful post!

    Blessings,
    Joyce

    1. Thank you Joyce…means a lot to hear you say that 🙂

      Blessings,
      Paul

  11. fern says:

    So many quotable words in your post! I must add my enjoyment of this one:

    You see, I was a dude who thought he knew it all, and the biggest smack down my recovery has done is to tell me I know Jack Shit about F*ck All. Ego doesn’t like that, but that’s the New World Order, sunshine.

    That’s a hard truth to bare!

    In my world that sentence is translated like this:
    I thought I was keeping up a façade that had everyone fooled while I was drinking. The joke’s on me because did anyone really care if I was perfect? Not one bit — I was hurting myself by protecting my ego.

    Fern

    1. I really enjoy your take on it, Fern. I think we need to process things our way to reap the benefit even more. It’s like when I hear how some people re-write the 3rd step prayer in a way that they understand it, or how it works for them. I have always been curious about that, but just love the prayer as is, but perhaps writing it out in a different way is another way to deepen or process. Anyway, that is what your comment brought up for me.

      Thanks for getting me thinking, Fern!

      Love and light,
      Paul

  12. Fantastic! When I read your posts, I subconciously start looking for my favorite paragraph, phrase or metaphor. It was easy today because it spoke to a part of myown character. That’s why we read, right? To find our commonalities and apply someone else’s learning to our own lives. The comfort of knowing, “Really? That’s not just me??”
    I digress 🙂
    My favorite part was your observation of realizing what you don’t know would fill an airplane hangar.

    “Saying “I don’t know” brings me as much joy as “another round, barkeep” used to do back in the day.”

    Being able to, wanting to, needing to seek knowledge is powerful, active and tangible. The joy is in the process of discovering, learning and applying. It’s how we know we are alive.

    Thank you for the beautiful reminder.

    1. I love what you bring to this…wow! You are absolutely correct in this – finding that commonality is what binds us. Regardless of our old shackles and chains, or even current ones, we are human and there will always be things that forge bonds. The “you are never alone” mantra is something that has helped me a lot. Even on days like today where my ego likes to make me feel that I am so distinct and unique that no one possibly can know what it’s like to be me, I know deep down that it’s a lie, really. I am unique in many ways, but I am also one of a part. And in that way, we have a lot in common.

      “Being able to, wanting to, needing to seek knowledge is powerful, active and tangible. The joy is in the process of discovering, learning and applying. It’s how we know we are alive. “…this is MY takeaway from your wonderful words!

      Thank you for being here, and sharing your positivity 🙂

      Love and light,
      Paul

  13. stacilys says:

    Wow, that was awesome Paul. Sometimes it’s the littlest and simplest lessons that are the deepest, wouldn’t you agree?
    “The I-don’t-know-ness of my life keeps me sane. It keeps me tuned into the Source that does know it all. I get the occasional breadcrumbs – just enough to keep the fox hunt interesting.”
    Love it. One really does become ‘insane’ trying to know, or understand it all. I know I would become a wreck. And sometimes do with the craziness that happens in my mind, trying to overanalyze and figure things out. I’m very happy with the breadcrumbs, thank you very much. That’s all I can take.
    Blessings Paul=)
    Staci

    1. Thank you Staci…always so happy to see you here.

      I think we weren’t meant to see it all…we’re not wired that way. I know I have trouble just looking straight ahead one foot at a time, let alone where the highways leads me. Sometimes I want to play God and know it all…have all the answers now. But I would bugger that up some how.

      Good to be on the need-to-know basis, in the long run.

      Blessings,
      Paul

  14. Al K Hall says:

    What a great post, brother. Love what you had to say. Life is a series of lessons, thank god sobriety makes learning fun!

    1. thanks Al – glad you’re here. you’re part of what makes sobriety fun, kind sir!

      Keep rockin’ it, kind sir.

      Paul

  15. big mike says:

    Big Paul

    I never had children, but I have had the honor of sponsoring and also mentoring a few adults who are just trying to get through life.

    Kinda funny the parallel.

    “”There is one thing, though, that I can say about him – whenever he makes a transition to a new stage in life, he doesn’t (often) turn back. Once those diapers were off, that was it. I used those then useless wipes to wash the tears of joy knowing I wouldn’t have to clean him again (I should have saved them for when the second kid arrived…ugh).””

    “”He has a certain amount of time that he needs to process and take in and actually act on the new way before committing to it.””

    Sounds like a lot of people we know.

    1. Absolutely, Mike. That’s exactly the parallel I was drawing, and glad you picked up on that. I am sometimes trying to turn back. And I get in the way of the Creator’s progress. I impede myself with my ego and my fears. I am certainly in the midst of processing stuff and probably will be for my lifetime, just hitting different marks along the way. At least I hope so. That is the only way I can grow, Mike. I sometimes don’t trust the process or don’t give it the time it needs. His time, not mine.

      Thank you, Mike. You always, always get me thinking. And on track.

      Paul

      1. big mike says:

        Kinda strange Paul, that I was just commenting on another blog about the conundrum catch 22that emotional sobriety is. From experience, it is pretty easy for me to ‘read ‘ what someone is truly saying, but I have a heck of a time ‘reading’ myself. Thats where the spirituality thing comes in. I gotta go outside myself, to another sober member and HP to get the answers I need, cause I cant give em to myself. Its my thinking that got me into this mess in the first place. And secondly, I cant over think this shit. I’ll go nuts. The best I can do is try to help sombody else out so that I wont be stuck in my own head. Its a terrible place to be. The less I think about me, the better I feel.

        I struggled with this shit for along time as I wanted, what I wanted, when I wanted it. I’ve come to the conclusion, long ago, that I have to be around other people who ‘get it’, as if left alone to my own thinking I get very un happy. Thanks Pal.

  16. Hi Paul, there’s so much freedom in realizing we don’t have all the answers. That we don’t have to always be right or wrong. Like you shared before, there are many paths up the mountain, the only one not making progress is the one running around telling all the others their ways are the wrong ways.

    I’m a big Pema Chodron fan. I have all of her books, and if I may, I would recommend to you either The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times or When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times to start with.

    She also has given many talks that have made their way to audio format. One of my favorites is Don’t Bite the Hook: Finding Freedom from Anger, Resentment, and Other Destructive Emotions. Amazon has all three and more. Pema has a very down-to-earth and approachable style; she would be a fun person to hang out with. I think you’d like her work very very much.

    Most of my Pema books are hardcopy, but I do have The Pocket Pema Chodron on my kindle; I’d be happy to loan it to you if you’d like.

    1. Thanks Christy for this – I will check out those books (Amazon.ca loves me)…and thanks for offer of the loan. I’ll pick them up – I am a book geek, so those will take up more shelf space (or memory space) once I gobble them up 🙂

      I am doing my best to stay on the mountain path. No use in me running around telling anyone anything. In fact, I have to stop telling myself that I should be going left instead of right and just listening to The Navigator Above.

      thank you for this…something else to explore 🙂

      Blessings,
      Paul

  17. A beautiful tribute to life and breath, Paul. Borne out of self-denial and self recovery. You know the book…Everything I Needed to Learn I Learned in Kindergarten. Be nice. Share. Etc. When I taught, I saw how the catty (female) teachers could not practice what they preached. I love how you’re asking new questions – from a new perspective – and accepting that there are no easy answers.

    Come now. Ya gotta stick around for your family.

    Diana

    1. Thank you Diana – always wonderful to see you here.

      It’s amazing, and a bit frightening, to be in a new place and unsure of where to go. But that’s growth for me, whether I like it or not. But you’re right – those simple things from kindergarten do actually work. They really do – we think of those things as being so simplistic, and hence easy to dismiss out of hand, and yet they contain powerful lessons. Back to basics always brings out the best.

      Love and light,
      Paul

      1. I’ll take love and light.
        Am pretty dim at the moment but hopefully my older posts will shine for me still.

  18. Paul,

    I am beyond moved by this post, and congratulations — 1000 days, wooohooo! 😀

    “But like my son and his life’s markers, I too needed time to process things. I still do. I won’t change in this way, I know it. And I have come to peace with this.”

    Reading your post was exactly what I needed to get me out of my writer’s block funk. I have had the hardest time trying to publish my “Fish Out of Water” post, but here’s my sign to move forward and finish the post. I’ve been stuck for well over a month. Thank you! You will understand better once you read it, and I hope you get some of those questions answered. I think you will.

    “For me right now, living is about entering the abyss.”

    I love this. This is the stuff goosebumps are made of. I was reminded of a quote from a video I watched “Dust That Sings by Phil Hellenes:

    “They say that if you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you. I go further. I say that if you stare long and hard enough, the abyss reaches out and pulls you in and grinds your face into the lifeless nuclear ashes of dead stars, forcing you to see the chaos and imperfection. And then the harshest reality of all demands that you recant, demands that you take back your claim that you saw beauty down here, and yet, if you go deep enough, there it is again, dust; dust that dreams, dust that loves, dust with courage and kindness — dust that sings. Some things are as close to miracles as to make hardly any difference at all.”

    You are in for a pleasant surprise, my friend. Few dare to venture into the abyss, but when they do, they are forever changed — and dare I say for the better. 🙂

    A kindred spirit smiles. Beautifully written, Paul. Just beautiful!

    1. Wow Victoria – you just flipped me over like a cheese omelet there and got me spinning – in a good way. I LOVE that quote from Dust That Sings. I am gobsmacked. Nailed so much for me. i will have to refresh my eyes and brain and take a look at the whole video. Another ‘to do’ that will bring me pleasure.

      I am so thankful that our paths crossed, Victoria – you are certainly a spirit that is free in many ways and showing others how it’s done. It’s not what you say per se, but how you say it, how you live it.

      Thank you…and look forward to your “Fish Out of Water” post…whenever it tells you that it’s ready 🙂

      Paul

  19. Paul, I love everything you had to say here…everything. Sometimes, in the vast scheme of things, we overlook the time and dedication it takes to learn even the simplest lessons. I remember back in my drinking days, there was lots of binging on crap and even more purging out bigger crap. The more I drank, the more I thought I knew. I couldn’t have been more blind if I poked my own eyeballs out.

    I had a couple of favorite parts to this piece but I loved when you wrote, “If I had them nailed down and charted out, I would be a guru with a long beard sitting on a mountaintop waiting for the seekers to touch my feet and gaze into my eyes as they blubbered away about life.” The beautiful gift about just being alive is having the ability to learn something new each and every single moment of our lives– but only if we choose to. For some people, they choose the other route by self-medicating or numbing their inhibitions instead of graduating toward something better or anew… part of the real world or the new world surrounding us.

    And there are no limitations or rules when we gain knowledge and information. As the old saying goes, knowledge is power. No matter how long it takes us to get it, as long as we get it somehow, we are capable of the impossible since we are no longer blinded by the false freedoms and facades the races and binge drinking once provided us with.

    Always a pleasure, my dear friend!

    1. Hi Gina – always so kind, keen and insightful with your comments. Thank you. I get what you say about the more you drank, the more you knew! I was the same, and then I started to believe my own self-published press and all of a sudden I am in the vortex of ugliness. Ego out of control and my drinking riding shotgun to that.

      I get impatient in wanting it all now, but that’s my lesson…the grand lesson. Patience. It will come if I allow it to, and to do so on it’s time.

      ugh.

      Thank you for being here…always a pleasure when I see your name pop up:)

      Paul

  20. Sometimes posts escape my attention, and I get impatient with myself (how did you miss this?!?), and I realize that I needed to read it at a certain time to glean the most from it.

    This is one such post. Had I read it when you posted, I would have missed all the wonderful comments, and I wouldn’t have gotten all the amazing wisdom from both you and your readers!

    Here’s the big take-away: WHY NOT ME? I will be asking myself that question when the next snow storm hits (which, if the meteorologists are correct, will be in about 8 hours).

    Also, here’s the upside to taking time learning things: it reminds me that I am human, and that is okay. God will give me what I need, not necessarily when I think I need it. It can be frustrating at times, but it can also be liberating!

    Thanks, Paul, for the reminder that patience is a skill I will need to cultivate over the next few weeks of winter!

    1. Same happens to me, my friend – I miss something, or I get to it late and realize that I perhaps was meant to come to it later. I am guided there for a reason.

      I too am getting patience tested in this weather! We got about 4-5 inches dumped on us yesterday (perhaps more) and now we’re going to get another big dumping on Sunday. I just want this done with!

      Thanks Josie for your comments – I just love how we always seem to be in sych!

      Blessings,
      Paul

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