To Be Satisfied

Well, hello world. Maybe we call this the little things or satisfaction. I was talking about this yesterday and I thought, okay, let's put something down. There is this quiet satisfaction that has come through and into my life through sobriety and it's hard to describe unless you've lived in that contrast. So this might not appeal to everybody. For a long time, I thought life had to be dramatic to have meaning. In my mind, it was full of grandiose plans. I was constantly in motion in this restless belief that happiness was always somewhere else, something next just beyond what I was doing. I had a hard time valuing small moments. I didn't really understand that peace could come from simply doing the next right thing. I didn't really understand that a good life could be built in the middle, not on the extremes, instead focusing on these universal principles, gratitude, steady, daily action, discipline. And now I can say with confidence that putting down drinks, getting sober, gave me peace of mind, serenity and gratitude for that which is greater than me. It changed the texture of my whole life. It's not made this life flashy or perfect, but it feels more real. And in that reality, I found something better than excitement. It's just contentment. I did this reading yesterday and I'm going to talk about it. The echoes of that reading stayed with me all day, partially because I'm now in a place where I can actually hear them. That is one of the gifts of AA. It taught me how to slow down enough to receive life instead of trying to force it my way. Before recovery, satisfaction was not really something I understood. I was always chasing it. I was always reaching for something. I was always imagining something bigger, a better version of myself or things. But now, today, I see that satisfaction often comes quietly. It comes from ordinary moments, seeing and recognizing ordinary moments. And part of that is by learning to live in today, in the day that I've been given. And I think about yesterday. On the surface, this might not seem extraordinary at all. I slept in and I woke up to the bird singing and the sunlight was pouring through my windows. That alone felt like a gift. I set a little prayer. I got in my car. I drove to one of my favorite places to run. It was great. There were lots of people out. The sky was just gorgeous blue. Everything felt open and alive. I came home. I took a quick shower and meditated for about 20 minutes. Later, I got to have lunch with my mom who had come to visit for the day. She wanted to go to the art exhibit we're doing. So we did. Then we also made it to my daughter's school at the park hill to see her pieces and their yearly art exhibit. It was incredible. And after that, I came home. I took the dog for a walk. I read on the porch for a bit. I grilled out a little bit later in the evening. I read some more, sat in the couch, and was in bed by 10 o'clock. Nothing about that day would have looked spectacular from the outside. But to me, to me, it was full. It was rich. It was peaceful. It was this day built out of simple things. Meditation, movement, family, art, rest, gratitude, and being present. And that entire day was possible because of what I've learned in this program. That entire day was possible because I stopped drinking. That is one of the great truths that I keep learning that the satisfaction of living a sober life. It's made up a lot of little things. You know, this change, it just wasn't just removing alcohol from my life. It made room for life. And since I've been putting these principles into action, I've been able to take out a lot of good things. And I can describe it best as this quiet kind of satisfaction. I feel good. I feel right in the world. I feel like I'm finally on the right side of the fence. And as long as I keep putting this program into my life, almost everything I take out of it is good. That does not mean that every day is easy or every day is feeling pleasant. It just means that there's this deeper steadiness underneath it. You know, recovery has given me this ability to experience life as it is without trying to escape from it, to numb it, to outrun it for this fleeting, temporary reprieve. It gave me ambition to do the things I never felt like doing when I was drinking. It's given me this willingness to show up for life versus how I used to avoid it. I appreciate the morning now. I appreciate conversations, walks. I love books. I love seeing my family. And even just moments of stillness and being able to just observe life. When I was drinking, I was very disconnected from the things that brought me joy. You know, it could be full of activity, but it just felt empty. Like there wasn't that much meaning. It was just one series of unfortunate events after the other, or even just events after the other. Now, I think I look at life simply from just a different perspective. And it may look simple from the outside, but it's still to me feels deeply meaningful. And that is a miracle I do not want to take for granted. And I think that what recovery has really given me isn't just letting something go, but getting a whole new way of living, a new way of perceiving things, a new way of measuring what a good day is. It's no longer a good day. It isn't built around. Oh my God, I'm going to get to get so messed up and indulge myself and escape from reality and get really intense. A good day is just one where I'm present where I try to live by these universal spiritual principles. I really just try to do the next right thing. When I focus on what is good instead of what is missing. Am I getting satisfaction out of a sober way of life without question the answer is yes. But it's not the kind of satisfaction that I want to imagine. It's it is quiet in that it's deeper than that. It's found in the accumulation of small meaningful moments. It's found waking up feeling good in a run under a blue sky and lunch with my mom and seeing my daughter's work on display in a porch chair in a grilled meal and a dog walk going to bed early. You know, I found it in being able to participate in my own life. Happiness is not always loud. Sometimes it's reverent. Sometimes it's soft. Sometimes it's simply that feeling when you lay your head down at night knowing you were alive and present for that whole day. It didn't waste it. You're grateful for it. That kind of life is enough for me today, more than enough. It's a happy existence that I've built out of a lot of little things and I am grateful for every single one of them. Peace.