I walk down  the street, past a church. There is a bench, coloured like a rainbow, and on it sits a man. Its winter, not to cold, so the man is dressed in a light jacket, hat and gloves.

He sits there with eyes that have turned inwards in a spotlight gaze on his soul, or so I imagine. Does it really help to look so deep, I wonder ? I have been the same at times, searching the barren, litter strewn past to find the answers that will give me a clean slate to work with on my journey.

I have discovered, to my chagrin, that it can be damaging to do this, to wallow in the past, to let my grief swallow me and lead me to the only comfort that I know. It behooves me to tear my gaze from the past and into the present so that I don’t miss the wonders going by, before my very soul.

When I cast back to the past it is easy for me to manufacture my reality, to fit my inclinations, as I see fit. When in the present it is harder to twist the situation to construct a world where I can become the victim. It is from that insane place I allow myself to walk, eyes wide open, into the emotional, physical meat grinder of my addiction.

The past may have put me in the state where I have the feeling that that’s all I can                be: fodder. I don’t have to walk into the grinder though. I can make a choice today to look past the dark hole of my addiction and walk into the turbulent light of Recovery.

Then again the man may just be tired and needing a rest from his walking. Who knows ?