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October 20 • Crossing Over

Day 468

As my recovery leads me to new places of honesty-based relationships and the ah-ha moments of therapy and self-evaluation, I ascend to the plateau's surface of believing everything is level. I have new friends, and they have me, and we share stories of trials and triumphs, and I feel good again. I see no more mountains and no more valleys. I have arrived.

I wander off to enjoy some alone time, and I hear old yearnings whispering to me. It's okay. I've learned how to turn them off. I've learned so well that I trust myself to listen to their words for just a few seconds longer each time. As I'm listening to the pull and seductions, I slip near the observatory's edge; I'm looking down for unspoken memories and moments, and I see again the dangers from where I've been.

Now I see the significant gaps between where I stand and that place across the sands to where I want to go. To get there, I must climb down from this safety and trust my training. I must have the tools, and I must be willing to accept the help of fellow travelers. But I don't have to do it today. What I need today is not to fall. Maybe tomorrow's dawn will show me a safe path to my next place, or perhaps I will be content with the safety of this place a while longer.

I should ask the others about their decisions and their experiences getting from here to there. But they are all still here. The people over there, they are not me. I must be patient.




Lines in the Sand

I'm drawing

Lines in the Sand

I'm crossing

Lines in the Sand

–Nomad Stones, ”Lines in the Sand"



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