Stopped Counting

A year came and went. I thought today was 365 days. But yesterday was…which means today is the last day of my 7 day count down of SELF-DISCOVERY THRU RECOVERY and the 1st day of the rest of my life.

To be honest, I wanted a beer at lunch with my frito pie (I ordered coffee and water instead) and I want to go to a fancy bar and sit by myself with a book or a journal… and watch people while I sip on a full body, over priced glass of red wine. With fries.

But instead, I write. I look up at the sky. I plan to make a fire and maybe even cry a little. In celebration of always seeking. I am a seeker. I am an immersive artist. Full send. My art/magic/creative flow, in this very moment, is making itself be known.

I understood the assignment last year when I told my friend maybe I’ll quit for a bit. She said try three months. 90 days is a good start. I committed. And then quarter of a year passed and I stopped counting somewhere between knowing I could do it and waiting to get thru it. To what was on the other side?

I wanted to discover who I was in recovery. Because I’m not addicted to one thing. I am addicted to distraction, depletion, and confusion. Anything to avoid. I needed the love I wasn’t giving myself. A year later, I have a new assignment.

Focus. Abundance. Clarity. Alchemy. Devotion. Reverence. Synchronicity. Harmony. Vitality.

I can’t wait!