the obstacle is the path

Back.

In some ways, never left.

The days, in fact years, have flashed by streetlamps in a rainy taxi window at night.

Still here.  Still willing to try.

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Day 4 – the peace

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Sometimes the peace is all.  When nothing happens at night to thrill or regret.  And there’s simple peace. Peace in paintchipped walls, two week old bedsheets, less than dazzling taco dinners, simple remarks between lovers to bookend the day.  The washing dull of the beltway from the window, dry eyes on an old paperback, the neighbor’s dog quieting down, peace in, peace out, if you are sober enough to catch it.  

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Day 3 – a mindless, senseless, brutal, irrational, relentless, cunning and vicious piece of shit

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This guy just won’t take no for an answer. It’d be humorous, if it wasn’t such a mofo. There are nights the Beast almost makes me laugh. Not because I think I’m in power over him or anything, not at all. More it’s that I just spent a respectable, regular, satisfying sober day, working hard; meditating in morning, not worrying about sweating booze as I talk to my colleagues on the elevator, being focused and productive at work. All in all a really solid, good day.

Why did it play out like that? I went to sleep sober last night. So let me do the math – for the last almost 16 hours of the day I’ve felt good, really wonderful at times, at others just good enough – but never once shameful or depressed or anxious. And YET there comes sweet evening-time. And what does the Beast start whining for? He wants his couple hours of sweet oblivion. He’s not interested in the past full day of peace. No, he wants what he wants. Without rationality, care or thought.

It’s times like this I can really see the separation between the Beast and myself.  How it operates with such indifference and recklessness in regards to ourselves. The dank, myopic, single-minded lizard brain remains in us. Here’s to another night of flipping him off.  

 

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