Loving the Sacred through Word and Image. AIDS – THIS IS MY PRIDE – SURVIVAL !!! A Wordpress Production

Sunday Sundries … Super Moon Sunday … and Things Like That

tumblr_n5wtzkmAyw1sh33qco1_500 blamboyzCourtesy: Blam

What? Were you hoping for a picture of the moon? It is making its way around the building as we speak. As the moon progresses on its arc across the sky, starting lower in the sky, it tracks around us and sets early. Now we are at Full Moon, and it is high in the sky and tracks in a tight arc from East to West. It circles around us and comes around the building, so it seems, after 9 p.m. till moon set.

I set out early this evening, my coffee gal was called in for the night shift so I was alone. I arrived and cranked out set up, ( have toons will work quickly). One of my friends came to help, but by the time she got there, I was already finished. I spoke to Baby Mama in New Foundland for a bit, I try to call her as often as I can. We have had a spate of babies come to the rooms in the last two months. Everett and Charlie were born not long ago, added to Luisa Grace 3 months ago this week.

We sat a humble crowd. Not as large as next week, and I had hoped for high numbers returning just to hear the end of the story we were in last week. We backtracked a bit for continuity and finished the read.

Even in the worst case scenarios, our writers eventually find the solution.

The miracle is how they got the message and from Whom?

Our writer ended up drunk, in a laundromat, not knowing which washers were hers, and who’s clothes were who’s. So she decided to remain there until everyone was gone, and decided to take whatever clothes were left in the end. Meanwhile an energetic woman doing her laundry took notice of our woman, who was in bad shape, our woman comments about how energetic she is and how she could be so fastidious.

The woman handed our gal a note with one sentence … “If you want to quit drinking, call A.A. 24 hours a day.” Our gal pocketed the note in her jeans and continued with the insanity until one day she could not go on any longer, after weeks and weeks, the note remained in the pocket of her now discarded jeans on her bedroom floor.

She got the number and called. And from the point on her life was never the same.

In the end she was connected to sober native women and men who took her in and helped keep her sober.

There is a terrible curse on our Native populations here. Alcoholism and Drug Addiction.

Not many make it. And so many are stuck in the throws of addiction.

Native and Inuit people come from where they live, the reservation or from up North. The park, right downstairs from home here, is a local watering hole, respite space, adjacent to the children’s hospital. They come to the big city and they hit the grocery store or even worse, the liquor store right downstairs. And they are off and running.

I have watched for over a decade people loosing what little dignity they have in the bottom of a bottle. In most cases, folks who leave the reservation and come here, either (1) get stuck here drunk and or high or (2) never return to their people due to shame and addiction. Once you leave your home and go somewhere else, the chance of proper return is slim.

A very good friend of mine was hired some months ago to work on a reintegration team, working with the Inuit and Native folks, and also with our homeless population in the downtown core to find them, name them, get them the help they need and repatriate them back to where they need to go. And that is such a daunting task.

When they come to us, we do our best to help everyone regardless of where they come from or who they are. Recovery is an equal opportunity event. Everyone who comes in the door gets at least a running start.

We all spoke about the angels who helped get us sober, people who carried the message to us in order that we might get it too. Everyone has a story.

Like our gal in this story, who was a binge drinker at the end, the not knowing what happened the night before was exactly my story. That happened to me several weeks running, until I had had enough and took my last drink.

I prayed for an alcoholic to come to me.

And He did.

The young man who found me where I was, spoke softly each day… “I did not drink today.”

I eventually let my guard down and told him I needed help, and in turn he got me to my first meeting this time around.

I was blessed because I met all the right people, who tended to my needs and my spirit.

I remember, when I first moved here, my sponsor was a young guy I really liked, in more ways than one. Over that period of time we shared a great deal of time together and we were very close. One night, he brought me to the mountain. It was midnight, and he decided that we would climb the mountain, in the dark, instead of using the paths that there were.

That was a great night. I got to climb the mountain and sit atop in the middle of the night sober.

It isn’t the Rockies or Alberta or Calgary or B.C. But there is a mountain in the middle of the city. Looking at it from the farthest point out, the city seems to be terraced up the side of the mountain and around it. If you get up to lookout point, and look West, over the side when the sun sets, it is quite a view from the top across the West side of Montreal into Laval.

We are very grateful people. To have what we have, and also to have someplace to go where other people care about our lives like no other.

There is no place I would rather live.

More to come, stay tuned …

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