Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.
Mary Oliver
This is the time of year I reflect on the box full of darkness I gave myself in my 20s and 30s. What first felt like magical, alcohol-fueled effervesence over time became a tomb of the spirit which I returned to every single day, sip after sip, shame after shame.
I think of my wise therapist who foresaw how poetry and movement would free my spirit. I think of my mother who noticed the light had gone out of my eyes, yet still kindly listened to every chaotic, slurred notion while I stood in the kitchen, near the liquor, and blah blah blahed plans that I was unable to complete or even start. I think of Tina, crying with joy when I told her I was going to get sober. I think of Jane, who greeted me on that first late-December day of surrender with "there is so much love."
For me, I had to acknowledge that I was the keeper of my own crypt. After that, I began to move (thanks Troy!) Once I began to breathe and repeat, there became room for poetry and stillness.
Most important, after about a year of necessary tears in a church basement, the darkness lifted and rather than nourishing some untrue sense of separateness while listening to those ice cubes melt in another glass of sadness, I found my first well. There, I began to see how glorious it is to speak the truth, feel connected to others, and be of service.
Our Mindful Poetry Moments program has been a part of that light and connection for me and many others this past year. I hope you enjoy reading more about it and feel moved to join us soon!
In health and harmony,
Stacy Sims
Founder
p.s. If I can ever be a support to you in a conversation about stuckness, particularly with addiction, please let me know.
p.p.s. On this Giving Tuesday, we would appreciate your support. And if it moves you, support one of our wonderful partners in Mindful Poetry, listed below.
