Wednesday night meetings have always been good to me, but they've been particularly evocative of late for they mark a sort of turning point toward a few days off that promise the hope of rest, relaxation, reading, writing, self-reflection, and inspiration towards newer and better ways of looking at life and the world. Thursday is the last full day I have to work before hitting the Friday morning high of knowing that I've only got four hours from eight o'clock that separate me from a sort of introspective fun and frivolity.
After tonight's step study (seven), I wonder if I ever really worked the steps to the best of my ability before. I certainly never gleaned from them the assertions I learned from John H. tonight. I never found a path of gratitude nor one of burgeoning promises such as those laid out by the men and women who came before me. Although I know that I previously worked them to the best of my ability at the time. Maybe everything that happened since - the time between then and now - happened exactly as it was supposed to happen. Perhaps I was destined to make the choices I made that led me back to 05 February, a day when I woke up and made a decision to end the spiritual, emotional, and creative bankruptcies I'd once again found to proliferate my life.
Maybe I think too much and over-analyze and have too many questions. I don't know what was so special about that weekend. I ended my Friday shift that first weekend in February as I would any other. I filed my taxes. I met up with Bryan. I had every intention of continuing on the same road I'd been journeying since leaving the safe confines of the fellowship of other recovering people. I planned to re-up and to go to an art opening and spend the weekend thinking about all the things I planned to do (but never actually made the first step toward accomplishing). Something changed that night... even though 03 February -the date of which I'm writing- wasn't the day I made the real choice. I still had to have one more night. One more jump into emptiness before I could wake up and make the real decision.
I have tons more to write, many more words to put together. I'm too tired at the moment. YouTube playlists from Midnight Syndicate and the rhythmic, meditative sounds of the ocean area calling and sleep is probably only a few moments from now... or so I hope, as five (to five-thirty) am come(s) early. I've already read through my nightly paragraph of what to do before retiring at night. And I re-read the forward to the third edition for the millionth time, as suggested by Mark (although I've finally been instructed [suggested] to begin reading farther [further? - is that distance or time or figurative or some combination of both?].
Today was a great day. International Pi Day - math's greatest constant. Albert Einstein's birthday. And, according to a pseudo buddy/acquaintance (Dan) on Facebook, "Happy Steak and Blowjob day."
The past two days at work have been simultaneously calm and productive. I've had more interesting and uplifting and meaningful conversations that I can recall at the moment, thanks to Ariej and Jenny, Alex and Mark, Ryan and the girls from work. Today/tonight, I end the twenty-four hours up to now on a positive note.
Now onto a quick spell-check, a tickle of the "PUBLSH POST" button, then back to The Swarm, which it looks like I'll finally be completing after picking back up, re-starting, then putting back down only to pick back up again where I'd left off a second time with a few other novels in between. How could I find reason to complain? For now, good orderly direction is working well in my life.
Grateful. Happy. Pleased. Content. Un-worried. Un-hurried. Hopeful.
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