Staying Present

Moi at Rockaway Beach in Queens

This week has all over the place. It started in New York City. I spent an evening visiting one of my dear friends in Brooklyn. We headed over to Rockaway Beach (I had never been) and I got to see it in it's full post-Hurricane Sandy splendor. They did a great job re-building in the area. I was so encouraged, though I know it had been a long road. This particular friend has a studio in Red Hook and was intensely active in the recovery effort in that part of the city after Sandy hit. I have had some truly eye-awakening conversations with her about it and I am so incredibly proud of the work she has done in getting Red Hook back in business. When the rest of the world had moved on, she was still working diligently with a group of volunteers to get basic things back to normal in some areas. It's humbling to hear about it. I also know that she is not the same person she was before Hurricane Sandy and that her volunteering was a transformative experience for her in a million ways.

When I visit this friend, we always head to the same neighborhood haunts. One of them in a bar several blocks from her apartment. They make a mean fried catfish sandwich. When we went this time, I ordered seltzer with cranberry juice and lime. Ironically, she was the one who suggested we leave after she finished her beer because it was a loud night and we could barely hear each other. So, we ended up having coffee and cupcakes at her place. We never run our of conversation and laughter. Usually, by that time in the evening, I am on my 4th glass of wine, possibly finishing her wine, and unable to remember the last bits of chit-chat before turning in for the night. This time, though, I not only remembered everything, I FELT the laughter more. It was real laughter, not fueled by booze, not ushered along by alcohol. It was genuine and genuinely felt. I was fully present. Just as my friend's experience in helping to restore Red Hook has permanently changed her, my recovery journey has been doing the same for me. I knew I needed to stop drinking. I had no idea that I would be blessed with such great gifts in recovery.

When my New York trip was over, I barely had time to catch my breath before my husband and I headed up to New Hampshire for a funeral. This is the 2nd death I have experienced since getting sober. After the funeral, we all headed to a nice restaurant, where the family had put together a wonderful slide show filled with touching pictures of the departed. Many folks were drinking. Instead of joining them, I opted for coffee and lost myself in the slide show.

Being fully present is a great gift. Never take that for granted. I hope I never do.