“I write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” ~ Anais Nin
On the morning of December 31, 2015 Marsha and I published our first post.
I want to share a few thoughts on turning 10.
First, a little history. What gave rise to JAT were heartbreaking losses:
- my brother Steve in 2009
- my brother Kevin in 2015
Their deaths left me feeling utterly unmoored and profoundly disconnected. A substantial part of me felt lost without them.
My early AA sponsor told me at such times alcohol would make a run at me.
- so cunning
- so baffling
- so powerful
…and, oh, so patient.
At such times I had learned to rely on writing as a kind of spiritual medicine.
- an antidote to soul injuries
- a companion in really hard times
When I was 13 I had to figure out how to survive my father’s funeral. I jotted down my observations on the back of a collection envelope during the service. Recording my thoughts helped me stay glued together where otherwise I would have been completely undone.
I kept that collection envelope throughout my life.
When I sobered up I pretty much did the same, writing my thoughts and experiences during those early days. Later, they were published in the book, Evening Prayers Morning Promises.
With Steve’s passing, I recognized life was making a run at me and my sobriety was on the line. I began to write — every day.
Six years later, after Kevin’s passing, with the help of Geoff Nixon and Mati Caccione, Marsha and I launched Just A Thought.
A new healing process began. Soon, the weeks became months, the months became years. Now, 10 years have passed, wrestling with difficult and dark moments, struggling to find a way through the narrow passages, trying to listen for the truth beyond the noise of daily life.
Looking back, I see writing has been my way of re-experiencing life:
- transforming the fearful moments into something more manageable
- reliving and sharing the joy-filled and inspirational moments
In the words of Anne Frank:
I get that.
I can’t count the occasions in which I’ve wanted nothing more than to be reborn, to have shaken off my fears and sorrows and find light in my darkness.
As someone whose early life was ravaged by alcoholism I am always aware of how the darkness affects me.
I fully understand what Ray Bradbury was getting at when he said, “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
There have been many times when reality was way more than I could swallow.
So I write a thought…and then another…and more after that…
- until I become both the witness to and the author of my own story
- until I’ve swallowed whatever it is that life has served me up
I can be nurtured like the lotus flower is — in muddy waters.
Like any good story, it’s never complete until it’s been edited.
And my editor is Marsha.
Each week her meticulous hand finds a way to bring luminescence to the stories I tell. When she’s finished I often discover what I’m truly thinking.
In my very first post on December 31, 2015 I made my truest observation.
I want to acknowledge the role my wife Marsha has played in launching the blog. She has been the Rock of Gibraltar in keeping Just A Thought grounded in the reality of the living moment but also a light-bearer in helping me understand what I’ve seen.
In preparing for this anniversary post I asked Marsha to share a thought:
I’ve observed Pat as this writing endeavor has evolved over the years. At first, it was strongly focused on sobriety and recovery. Over time, it has broadened to include all manner of life wisdom.
My role is mainly to proof and polish. As you might imagine, that often sparks lively dialogue between us — sometimes collaborative, occasionally heated, but always enlightening.
I’ve always thought of Pat as part sage, part raconteur — mixed together and presented with enthusiasm. He gives us a gift each week by channeling those qualities into the written word.
So it has been. With Marsha as my North Star we set out each week to share a weekly reflection on the quiet lessons of ordinary living.
We thank you all for visiting with us these past 520 weeks.
Just a Thought…
Pat and Marsha
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