Privilege

We take so much for granted don't we? At least I do. But now and again, more often than not, I become aware of how privileged I am. How good my life is. How I have opportunities to re-invent myself. How many lives I've lived. Opportunities and chances taken. Friendships solidified. Good health rescued.

I've visited my young friend twice now. She's still sober but needed help with other issues. So she went off for 28 days to learn about self-esteem and setting boundaries, and acceptance of herself.

And I get to see her companions in the treatment centre. All ages. All conditions, all stages of recovery. And my heart swells with love for them and for her. And I hope with all my heart that life will improve for them. That they will embrace this opportunity, this brand new life force and hold it tight so they don't drown.

And then feel privileged in turn. As I do, for being reborn as it were.

We go out for dinner, my wee friend and I. And she is full of hope and plans and nearly 4 months sober. I haul her back into the moment and talk expectations and ask her again, as I do every time I see her: "What's the most important thing in your life?" And her answer is uncertainty and contingent on others.

And I think: one of these days....

Blog Jam

Yeah, I deleted a post. Why? It felt really incomplete even though I had stroked it and stroked it as us writers do. It was missing some element that I couldn't quite nail and I took it down to work on it some more. It's a hugely important topic for us emigrants and I need to do it more justice before publishing it. Thanks to those of you who responded to it in depth both on the blog and in private emails. I am never alone in these horrible, painful episodes of my life.

But? I found a cure!

Seriously.

When in pain from unkindness I've found that if I transform this into kindness to others it eases the load. Tremendously.

So that's what I did today. I wrote a few letters, made a few long overdue phone-calls, mailed a few gifts and some of my cards and projected out into the universe peace and healing to those who hurt me. Tons of it. There's really no more room in my life, at my age, for inflicted pain and grief and hurt and sorrow. I fill it up with love. Remind me of this statement when I'm less forgiving please.

And, interesting wee bit, I heard from this older man (yeah, older than me!), a retired policeman from Co. Clare and he starts off by saying:

"I've read every word you've ever written for years and years and years and I want to be your friend."

I just love it when lurkers make themselves visible.

Jack, if you're reading this, bravo my new friend!