Catching the Nature of Water

For those of us supporting loved ones in the cycle of addiction and recovery, there are often pain-staking moments. I'm in one of them right now, as I await confirmation that my loved one is safely in custody. I decided to do walking meditation during these tense moments, as my mind kept returning to the what-ifs and that thinking was not in any way helpful to myself, my family or my loved one.

While walking in the autumn garden, I was kept good company by streams of water trickling off the roof of my house after our first snowfall yesterday. The sun happily melted the snow into pure sparkling water ~ very precious in this time of drought. I was transported back in time to the day that I learned the depths of my loved ones addiction. I was sitting in my living room with bright sun and blue skies. It was springtime and snowmelt poured, actually gushed, from my rafters. I was on the phone, listening to my loved one and my breath was completely inaccessible. My sliding glass door was open and I could hear the melting snow, gurgling and splattering. So, every time my mind descended into panic, I returned to the sound of running water, sun and blue sky. Given my training and background, I know this comes very close to "disassociation." I call it saving my sanity--on that day, water, sun and sky became my breath, my anchors. Clear water, warm sunshine, and spacious sky, held me and my loved one in a fuller picture of reality. 

So today, during walking meditation, I notice a similar melt but it is a mere trickle. Yet, water seems to sing, "catch my precious, precious lifeforce." I slowly walk into the house and gather containers. I prop them carefully so as to catch the clear running streams. As I do, I pray for my family, all families and the amazing people who are by our loved ones sides: encouraging, feeding, sheltering, loving ~ gathering the seemingly impenetrable melt, the trickle of life that we have to work with.

Often in the cycles of use and recovery, we convince ourselves there is nothing left. I am here to say ~ life is always there. We, as compassionate care-takers must tend, gather, use and grow the precious drops. 

As I finish walking meditation and gathering the containers, I water my happy indoor plants. I sit down to write and move this energy. A message comes through. My loved one is safe, secure, protected. 

Breathing in, I offer immense gratitude;
Breathing out, may all remember their water nature,
the thaw that always comes in the light
of gentle and compassionate awareness.