I subscribe to the “Honest Guys” Facebook page, out of the UK,  consisting of a daily nature photograph and a gentle nudge towards inner peace and kindness. Pleasantly, with all the chatter, ads and political posts, this message shows up front and center the first thing every morning. Recently, the photo was of an emerald evergreen forest, with a mossy floor, and sun rays filtered through the trees. It immediately transported me to a place we called “Fairyland,” out behind a cabin our families used at Cannon Beach when we were kids. The funky little place, with sloped floors and rickety wooden bunk beds, belonged to Charlie, an old school buddy of my dad and aunt’s. We may have only been there a handful of times, but in memory, it was paramount. Out back, walking along the fence line and beyond, Charlie showed us young ones the magical forest of Fairyland. It was stunning – huge, old growth pines, a thick, mossy covering on the ground, and often, rays of sun shining through to the forest floor. Charlie walked us out to a large tree who’s root system created a little seat, firmly instructing us to go no further else we incur the wrath of the goblins who lived beyond. Enchanted and terrified, we never stepped beyond the marker tree. 

Until, of course, we did. As we got older and bolder, we thought, “Why not?” taking those first steps towards reality. Reality wasn’t goblins or bad guys, but a clear-cut a few hundred yards beyond - heartbreaking in its ugliness. Even though we knew better, we’d hoped to find an evil castle or other signs of magical wonder. Already jaded at 11 or 12, we probably lit up a stolen cigarette and said, “We won’t tell our moms that we know the truth.”  

I remember both the magic and the let-down of the fantasy Fairyland, an archetypal movement from the innocence of childhood to the harsh reality of the world. Despite the harsh realities, I don’t want to get stuck in that place of “Ain’t it ugly?” When I find myself focused on the clear-cut of the political world, or my appointments and to-do lists,  I can consciously turn towards the peaceful forest, the place inside me that knows all is well, the place that remembers whatever really needs doing will get done. As one of my daily readers says, “What is urgent is rarely important, and what is important is rarely urgent.” 

I believe it was Marieanne Williamson who wrote (& I paraphrase) that there really is only one path – I’m either moving towards Higher Power/Spirit/Peace of Mind or away. Which direction am I facing today? And if I’m facing the internal chaos of anxiety or worry, how do I turn myself around? Ah – I can’t turn myself around, but I can surrender in the practice of Step 3 (made a decision) and then ask for guidance via Step 11 (knowledge of HP’s will for me and the power to carry that out). I sometimes read Step 11 as related to the big deals, the ones that need “power.” But maybe the “power” to carry out God’s will is as simple as shifting my focus, taking a deep breath, reading inspirational or centering literature. Slaying dragons, the internal goblins, can be in the small decisions as well as the big.

For me, that showed up last week as a noticing. I missed two of my regular meetings due to scheduling conflicts, and then a third on Thursday, because the sun was out. I noticed on Sunday (home group day) a slight hesitation, a whisper of “you’ve got so much to do,” and realized, on a gut level, how easy it would be to simply drift away from my 12 Step practice, which includes regular meeting attendance. So easy to give in to the “Life is good,” “I’ve got this,” “I’ve got a lot to do” trap. I’ve got a lot to do, and life is good because of recovery, and the grace that delivered me from the hell of my addiction. Not “I’ve got this,” but “Higher Power has this” – always has and always will.

I’m recently truly feeling “one day at a time,” especially after attending a moving memorial for Ronnie S., a really good guy who was killed in a motor vehicle accident – too young, too soon, totally unexpected. This moment is all we have. Am I going to face the beautiful forest, or the clear cut? Trust, or give in to my fears?  Slip away, or maintain my commitment to my spiritual practice? What is your choice today? How does the disease talk to you, and what do you do when you notice that?