I’m grateful for a really lovely visit. I’m grateful for a really lovely train ride home. I’m grateful to be back to my own coffee. I’m grateful for regaining a sense of adventure. I’m grateful for familiar things. I’m grateful to be sober today.
I’m home this morning and it is very nice. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a completely lovely time this last week, but it’s really nice to be drinking my coffee out of my mugs, listening to my music, sitting at my desk, writing this.1 I guess that’s the real power of home, that sense of being in the right place.
I’ve talked a lot about how I wanted to live here in New York pretty much most of my sentient life.2When I had finally dissolved most of the relationships and structure that tied me to any particular geographic location,3 I guess I was finally free to do what I had always wanted to do. That’s a weirdly positive thing to say about a time that I would very much consider to be my bottom, but it’s kind of true. And even though my grand entrance on that Sunday night in 2020 was kind of a despair-ridden affair, I knew almost right away that I was in the right place.
I can remember one of those first mornings when I was living in the sober house. I struck out and took a long walk through Central Park, and even though my life was kind of in a shambles, I felt this absurd sense of optimism. That now, somehow things were finally going to be ok. I really don’t know where that came from. I do know the Greek chorus in my head was working pretty hard to get me to see just how fucked up things had gotten.4 The first evidence that there was some kind of change in the offing? I had this unshakeable sense that things were going to be ok.
I had no idea what that meant. There were no specifics being communicated and I couldn’t really even imagine how exactly this was going to be ok, but I knew that it was going to be ok, and every day I felt that a little bit more. It wasn’t like I had set out to do any of this purposefully, but it seemed like having finally demolished the faulty structure that I had built (my life to date), there was now a sense that I could build the thing that was supposed to have been there all along.
I think it starts with that sense of place —and it’s hard to describe that feeling. It’s just that feeling I get when I “know” something; like when I know I’m on the right path or made the right decision or started thinking about something the right way. It just feels right. I’ve come to believe that’s when God is nodding at me. I think that God is pretty busy and although I also think that God is nothing but Love, I recognize that God isn’t always free to talk, so sometimes that wordless nod, a spiritual thumbs-up kind of thing, is more than enough. Once I knew to look for it.
You know my thing with pennies. While my logical mind is pretty certain that the all-powerful force that pervades and shapes the universe is probably not placing pennies to illuminate my path. Well, it’s kind of hard to keep my heart from coming to a different conclusion sometimes. Here is a quick summary of my penny-findings in the last week:
Floor of the Budget rental I picked up in Chicago to drive to Iowa
Sidewalk on Linn Street when we had breakfast at the Hamburg Inn5
Newark Airport at Baggage Claim
Union Square Farmers’ Market
Commonwealth Avenue in Boston
No, I don’t find pennies every day and just choose to emphasize some. I hadn’t found a penny for quite a while before this flurry. So make of it what you will and I’ll do the same.
I took the train home yesterday afternoon from Boston and it was a beautiful afternoon to watch scenery hurtle by. I’ve lived here in New York for two years now, and I will tell you, the most beautiful thing I saw was the first panoramic view of the New York City skyline. It always is. I have always gotten a tingle of excitement when the city bursts into view, my entire life. I felt that way yesterday and all the other times I’ve come home in the last two years. I felt that way that Sunday night driving to the sober house from La Guardia.
Of course, the Big Book has something to say about this:
And acceptance is the answer to all of my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation—some fact of my life—unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place or thing, or situation, as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.
Big Book, p. 417
I finally realized this also applied to me. Acceptance wasn’t just something that you practiced when other people did annoying and stupid things, it meant my Higher Power, whatever that force actually is, was also placing me where I was supposed to be, where I needed to be. It was important to recognize that the Big Guy didn’t just place me to make things work out for me; sometimes I was being placed there for someone else or something else. Again, this is all communicated pretty elliptically, but in case you didn’t notice, I haven’t turned off the guidance system.
I’m not sure I believe that God had a hand in the destruction that I wrought, but God definitely had a hand in what happened next. If God chooses to communicate with me via weirdly inappropriate songs,6 odd pronouncements in locker rooms or grimy, abandoned pennies and these weird feelings of general okay-ness, I’m going to go with that. The pennies I’ve found since I moved here would not even buy me a cappuccino at my favorite, secret coffee place.7 But, of course, I would never think of cashing them in, they’re way too valuable for that: They're one of the ways I know I’m home.
Thanks for Letting me Share
I could have included this, “looking out at my island,” but thought it might cross the self-referential boundary. Did you know that I look out at an island named after me while I write this every morning?
There was an earlier time when I desired to live in some kind of cave dwelling and hunt dangerous beasts, but after that, it was definitely New York.
This is a nice way of saying, I had no where left to go.
It’s definitely a Greek Chorus, I mean, is there anything much darker than those greek tragedies?
If you’re running for President, at some point you’re going to be dining at the Hamburg Inn (No. 2). Also, Magoo’s, the bar where I began drinking, was two doors down.
“I Heard a Rumor” by Bananarama
It’s on 83rd Street.
Fantastic read. I completely relate to the sense of God developing from an external mystery/myth to a familiar inner voice and relationship beyond description. Your pennies are gold. Thank you
I nursed many hangovers at the Hamburg. U of I grad 2002.
Loved all of this--really beautiful thoughts on finding your way home to the place you were meant to be, living the life you were meant to live.
Also, the excerpt from the Big Book was timely. I was feeling a bit agitated this morning over some new situations and new information. But I’m choosing right now to accept the things I cannot change. That doesn’t mean I have to embrace them, but I can accept them and move on.
“And acceptance is the answer to all of my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation—some fact of my life—unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place or thing, or situation, as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.”