soil

Somewhere deep inside of us there is a sweet and loving voice encouraging us to make the right choice. And by right choice I am referring to the loving choice. I’ve yet to meet a person who didn’t have some type of moral code (aka principles). Even for those who seem to ooze contempt and righteousness, there can be found a sliver of something loving. We all have it.

It’s not a matter of having it or not having it.
It’s not a matter having more of it or having less of it.
It’s a matter of accessing it or ignoring it.
It’s a matter of feeding it or starving it.

We’ve all welcomed the “walkaway” from that voice. We try and shove it out, pretend it’s not speaking. Imagine we can’t understand it. In some instances we even ask it to go away. Because making the unloving choice is less hardship.

There are two solid reasons that voice is important to an addict.

  1. If we won’t listen to it, we won’t get sober.
  2. If we won’t continue to listen to it, we won’t stay sober.

This sober thing isn’t about saying we want it. It’s about standing up and taking it—grabbing it with both hands. Not looking back every few feet. It’s about listening to that voice in us that truly loves us and wants the best for us.

Here’s our issue: We are content with saying we want sobriety, happiness, friends, family, freedom, and even money, but we do nothing or next to nothing to have them. When an obstacle shows up, say a wall, we pack it all in.  We don’t figure a way through the wall, over the wall, around the wall, underneath the wall. We simply look at the wall, access our comfort zone and then walk away defeated.

We even manage to think others accomplished what we did not because they had no walls. We view the universe as biased and occasionally we get lucky.

If, however, there were a million dollars half way around the world, waiting for us upon our arrival, do you think we’d make it? Damn right we would. We’d see the prize, not the struggles of the expedition. The pay-off for our perseverance would be more than worth the arduous journey.

When we are struggling to choose sobriety (or not), we don’t see its magnificent rewards. When we question our desire to maintain our sobriety, we’re not remembering the agony out of which our sobriety was born. We have conveniently forgotten the destruction we left in our wake.

At these moments that voice represents weakness. We feel entitled to live our life the way we choose. We don’t want anyone telling us what to do. Especially a sappy sweet voice encouraging us to face the fears, the choices, we are so dreading. Not only is it telling us to face them, but it is telling us to face them with love.

In life we plant our roots somewhere. This isn’t an optional thing. We are grounded, principled in SOMETHING. We can be an orange tree seed in Florida or the Antarctic. Where do we think we will flourish?

If you are an addict and you know this there is no need to return to the Antarctic. The climate will be the same. If you’re not sure, come to Florida enjoy some of the rich soil. You will never look back, except to say, “Goodbye, thank you for showing me how I don’t want to live my life.”