Unattached Appreciation - Day 41

I’m back in Seattle, but most people wouldn’t know it. The whole experience is a little overwhelming. In many ways Seattle seems to have changed as much as I have, while still being exactly the same.

I have been limiting my exposure so far. I can count the number of people I”ve seen on just one hand. I’m not in any huge rush to change that either. In time I am going to need the full support of my friends, but right now I’m sticking to those I consider to be family.

A good friend of mine took me to Refuge Recovery, which is a buddhist approach to recovery. It was the first time I voluntarily walked into any kind of meeting. There is a huge emphasis on meditation, which I liked despite it being difficult for me to focus for 20 minutes at this point.

They implement a “tag/pass” sharing model, in which after a person shares they pick the next person to hear from who has the option to share or immediately pass to a person of their choosing. The topic for the discussion was “Unattached Appreciation”.

I was so nervous that I was going to be called upon I couldn’t hear most of what was being said. I was certain at some point they were going to put the spotlight on me. My thoughts had a shelf life of three sentences before I felt like I’d lost topic and then I had to remember what I was supposed to be thinking about. Just as my brain whitewashed a gentlemen pointed at me and said, “I’ll pass to the guy in the blue sweatshirt.”

What came out of the empty space went something like this:

Unattached Appreciation. I just moved back from Hawaii. That was actually where I got clean, so it’s a fairly recent thing for me. Hawaii was all about the attachment to material pleasure. Everything was in excess. It reached a point though, where the attached appreciation became bound to my attachment to suffering. Ultimate pleasure hand in hand with ultimate suffering...I spent a lot of time talking with the island of Oahu. I left it all there. I didn’t want to carry it with me anymore. I know that it’s a part of me, and it will always be with me, but what was there, right in front of my face, the extremes of pleasure and suffering, I left them in the sand. I don’t feel attached to them anymore. I remember where they are, but right now they need to stay there.

I surprised even myself with what was said. My final days on Oahu have been all I’ve thought of since I got back. I took so much from the island of Oahu, it almost feels like a crime. It offered everything to me freely. I didn’t even know what I needed and it provided for me. I don’t mean this in a material sense, though there were definitely instances in which the things I received were tangible.

Never have I been so totally humbled by anything in the way I was by Waimae Valley or the Stairway to Heaven or Magic Island. The island broke down the walls I spent two decades building and I got the first glimpse at my true inner self. I could hear the island speak to me on my final night in Honolulu:

“Give me your fears and your pain. Give me your sorrow and suffering. Give me all the things too heavy for you to carry with you.”

You have already given me so much I would not repay your generosity with such a curse.

“Since before man walked this earth I have beared the entirety of the Pacific upon me. The weight of your burdens is of no consequence to me.”

But I cannot leave them with you, I’m tired of running from them.

“Then come with me to the shore. In the sand we will wash away all you have attached to your past. This is the freedom that I offer you.”

The dragon has taken everything I have There is nothing I can offer you in return.

“All I ask of you is to forgive yourself.”

I sobbed on the beach as I watched the never ending procession of waves. With each salty breathe I could feel the decades of anguish starting to erode away. Slowly the tides mist began to swirl around me and condense. In only a matter of moments I was once again encased in the crystalline structure and once again I wasn’t alone.

My ten year old self and the man who identified himself as who I am supposed to be stood in front of me once again. The boy was in the foreground holding a single white tulip. Ignoring the other man, I approached the child, dropped down to one knee and continued crying.

I am so sorry.

“...”

I wish I could take it all back and that none of this happened to us.

“...”

I can’t change the past, but I can change the future. Please, I’m begging you, forgive me.

He then reached out and offered me the flower. It was slightly wilted but with a fragrance so intense I felt as if I were in a whole field of tulips. I took it from his small hands and held it for a moment. Overcome I reached out and pulled the boy close to me, my tears getting lost in the strands of his hair.

Thank you.

“This is only the beginning, not the end. There are others.”

How do I find them?

“The same way you found me. You look for them.”

I will find them, no, we will. I promise.

Forgiving yourself seems like a simple charge, but it can be one of the most difficult things to do. I still don’t think I have really even broken the surface of that endeavor. I have to figure it out though if I am to make it through this. For every indiscretion I hold against myself is just another fault line ready to take me back to where I was.