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Laughing at my self will run rampant 

I’m convinced that being able to laugh at yourself is one of the most liberating things in the world. I did a lot of that Friday morning. There’s this axiom where the more lost I am, the faster I drive. It allows me to get to the wrong place in a hurry. I’m also careful to turn off the radio because I’m convinced I can see better in silence.

I have the worst sense of direction in the history of humans. It’s so bad that it’s almost impressive. I’ve heard it called Zen navigation – I see a lot of things I didn’t expect to and arrive at a lot of places I never intended to be (pretty good description of my life).

In my defense, I got to the right location. It’s just that the building was boarded up and none of the entrances were shoveled out (that did not prevent me from circling the building THREE times). Only then did my ADD rattled brain recall that they had moved the event to a new venue that I’d had every intention of writing down the address for.

I have a lot of experience at this kind of thing and consequently, sufficient humility to ask for directions.

I do the same thing with my Higher Power.

See, I suffer from the recurring delusion that I know what I’m doing. Hahahahahahahahahaha

I’m a highly flawed person who embodies many contradictions. I routinely ask my HP what the plan is and then I don’t follow it. Metaphorically, my HP puts up billboards to direct me along the way, but they’re hard to read at 100mph with the radio blaring.

The more lost I am, the faster I go.

God has a sense of humor. I got to the right place only five minutes late. I was embarrassed and stressed but completely bemused when the stranger who greeted me explained they were running late and I should only have to wait about 20 minutes.

I think I only broke four traffic laws on my way to drug court.

If that’s not funny to you, we can’t be friends.

I spent 20 minutes talking with my HP, expressing gratitude and apologizing for things I chronically do. I picture God as Octavia Spencer who is amused by my ridiculous nature and loves me anyway.

The drug court hearing was a graduation ceremony. All I had to do was be present and celebrate the incredible young man’s journey.

He’d been lost too, but his rabbit hole involved a whole lot of opiates.

All of those assembled took turns sharing their stories about him, their pride and joy in his long-term recovery. We passed a large feather to denote whose turn it was to speak.

My friends in recovery say that a feather in your path is a sign that you’re right where you’re supposed to be. Indeed, I was. I left there on cloud 9 because the disease didn’t win and the young man did.

I have days when I know exactly why I do what I do and why I go where I go.

I go slow when I am of service to others. I go where I feel led and in a seeming paradox, I spend a lot of time in rabbit holes. I muddle professionally, playing a small role in helping folks find their way out of darkness.

Faith and intuition are what direct me. I am conscious and deliberate when I am with others, and often reckless in my own journey. I’m reminded that all I have to do is stop, breathe, pray and more will be revealed.

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