I’ve just been sat at the back door where I live, sat down with a cup of coffee and a fag, staring at a brick wall. I had to put my glasses on to see the wall properly. No, sorry, not had to but wanted to put on my glasses so that I could just sit and stare at a brick wall. Stare at the variety of bricks. Stare at the slightly broken bricks, the scratched bricks, the bricks with dimples and grooves. the reddish bricks, the stained bricks. So many different bricks. I sat and in some unexplainable way communed with my God. Through my artistic appreciation of the range of bricks and their differences and similarities, I was able to spend time lost in gratitude. Gratitude to my God that he made me the way he made me, gratitude that He has given me eyes to see. Eyes that see beauty where others might just see what is there. Eyes that get so filled up with the splendour of this broken world that all I can do is sit and stare.
There’s been a mixture of things that have brought me here so soon after my last little walk on the wild side. A mixture of what I have done and what God has done in me. I have done my part in looking at the things that have shaped me into who I am today. Looking at the ways that I react to certain stimuli and then trying to see if I need to change those reactions or keep them. Looking at some of the experiences that I have had and trying to unlock their power over me and seeing if my part in those experiences was a factor or not. In short, taking as much of a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself as I have been able. That has been some of what I have been doing in myself but I don’t feel qualified to begin to suggest what my God has been doing in me. What I am qualified to say is that He has been working in me and the proof of that is that I am still here at all.
Further proof can be seen by the fact that I’ve just been staring at a brick wall communing with my God. Slowly, bit by bit I am learning to let go of some of the rules that I have lived under all my adult life. Rules that include how and when I can commune with my God. Some of these rules came from well-meaning but misinformed people around me and some came from my own immature and scared mind. Those that I made up and stuck to were safe-seeming self-defense mechanisms that would have been discarded when I had felt loved and secure. Until recently, I have not felt secure enough to review a lot of these rules and so I have continued to live with a metaphorical straitjacket in the area of spirituality. I had been able to loosen a few of the straps but the jacket had stayed firmly on. I have now started to unbuckle those straps.
I have been aware of having eyes that see beauty where others see the mundane for a long time. I have repeatedly shown my gratitude to my God for His beauty and for Him allowing me to experience it. The change that has been occurring in me is to finally be able to see that while I am lost in awe and wonder of the beauty around me, I am actually directly communing with my God. I am sharing a moment of time with my God. A moment of joy. A moment of just being with Him. A moment of worship. Those moments can be as long or as short as they happen to be. I don’t care anymore because I can now see that He gave me this gift so that we could share it and that blows my mind clear out of this orbit and into a brand new trajectory.
And that’s one of the times when this recovery thing rocks. It rocks so much that it makes it easy to keep fighting for more.