Westcliffe, CO, June 20, 2016, photo by Bar Scott
“The full moon is the high tide of power. It signals it is time for you to release that which no longer serves you, what you no longer need in your life, or an aspect of yourself that you have outgrown.”
The things you hear at yoga. Who knew? Just kidding. Namaste, bitches.
Early on in my sobriety, I met a person who later became my “sponsor.” We used the term loosely, as I kept insisting a sponsor is someone who pays your way. Ray — let’s call him Ray — didn’t see it that way.
When I met Ray, he had more years sober than I had on earth. That’s a lot of wisdom to acknowledge. He was in a motorcycle gang in the 60s. A real life Captain America. Like I’m gonna argue with him about anything. The guy knew stuff about stuff I didn’t even know was stuff. I kept my mouth shut most of the time when I was with Ray. So, being with him always caused me to go against my nature in at least one way.
One thing Ray taught me is that it’s helpful, each year you’re sober, to let go of something. In addition to the booze and drugs and what not. You’ll constantly be surprised by what you don’t need, he said. He was right. It’s become second nature to let go of things that no longer help me move forward. Unhealthy things like cigarettes and resentments, invisible things like notions and fears, material things like collections of shoes and dishes: they’ve all made it to my discard pile.
I added a logical twist. Along with letting go of something I no longer need, I try to bring something new into my world each year. Maybe it’s a habit or a belief, a visit to a new place, a new friend, anything that keeps me thinking and growing.
Some years, I’ve gone a bit overboard, but that’s a different topic. Addicts can be excessive. Duh.
The huge moon Monday night was a beacon. I drank it in. It reminded me to get busy, and I haven’t stopped since. There’s so much left to do.
Tuesday, I learned Ray passed away while the moon was giving me permission for renewal.
I’ll keep that one last push he gave me clasped tightly in my hand, forever.