This ain't no place for the weary kind
This ain't no place to lose your mind
This ain't no place to get left behind
Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more tryRyan Bingham – The Weary Kind
Choice matters. I chose to come to the meeting tonight. My addict chooses to use. Choice matters.
Choice either moves us forward, backward, and sometimes by not choosing…we tacitly choose to remain where we are. Make no mistake choice matters.
The irrevocable truth is that we are always keenly remember when we make that first and usually life altering choice….that first al anon meeting….that first Martini; that first cigarette, that first kiss, that first love.
Choice matters to everyone. The only thing we don't choose is the addicts in our life. But we choose how to deal with them by first dealing with ourselves. Al anon is inherently good on how it deals with the bad.
The haunting Melody and Lyric of this work of art..this song called Crazy Heart has become my anthem is the well worn armour shielding me from the baptism of fire we inappropriately name recovery.A state that has a beginning but no end. Choice …a terrible beauty… matters.
In the art of Crazy Heart …the steel guitars cry endlessly into the black cold night. The twang of the icy steel strings reluctantly yet uncontrollably drowns us once again deeper and deeper into the ocean abyss finally arriving at the bottom …. Home again….the bottom; the bone yard .piled high with all the broken promises and unfulfilled dreams of wasted memory.
Some of us have already given up ….some in the process of given up….some of us want to give up. Yet we continue to come. We come week after week, month after month, and year after year. We come and we come and we come.
We come bent, broken on bended knee …pleading, begging for some or something to drags out back into the light.
The broken spirit,hammered again and again over the anvils of time , is as pure in form and nature as the cold steel of the fearless samurai's blade. Behold the true disciple; with infinite heart and courage for all.
No matter what creed, no matter the different tale of love and loss….. yet always mystically the same clear unwavering yet always compassionate voice.
No advice is given but instead offered
Leave the remnants of the moral carcass of the pain and disillusionment in histories absente wake.
Words, rhyme,courage,and reason are all generously enmeshed in the vibrant jungles of our mind .
The choice is ours. Choice in the beginning, choice in the end but choice in the present gets its due and proper.
The hardest and most difficult thing to see…. the only thing that comes to account is the here and now..
The lonely poets tears fill the cracks of our broken hearts. The random pieces of our soul begin the long painful crawl towards the completion of this puzzle branded choice.
This ain't no place for the weary kind
This ain't no place to lose your mind
This ain't no place to get left behind
Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try
Gratitude.
A meditation for February 1, 2014.
Brian had this description of the painting: