My battle with my brain rages on incessantly. My brain against my brain. Clearly, there can be no winner in this war. I may as well drink. You see? It's like that. "One alcoholic helping another" does seem about my only hope for a continuing recovery. "We have seen the enemy and he is us" is about how Pogo expressed it in Walt Kelly's comic strip. My brain is lame. Hence, thus, therefore: lamebrain.
Suffering for my 'art' ends here. Recovery for myself starts here. I did not drink today and that is that.
Evening Meditation:
On 'Land's End', the edge of a lake in Mays Landing, New Jersey. In a drunken stupor a couple of relapses ago. I don't think I consciously chose to be a dying drunk at the water's edge. Each grain of sand along the water's edge could have been an epiphany if I had had the power to feel. Survival of the fittest seemed to have taken over when I was no longer able to fight. Sweet surrender: what I could not yet know.
“One’s destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things.”
Henry Miller
Question for Today:
Can the past, too, be infinite or are all the stones already carved?
from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Day 43)
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