Lightly child, lightly.
“It’s dark because you are trying too hard.
Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.
Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.
Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.
I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig.
Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me. When it comes to dying even.
Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic. No rhetoric, no tremolos,
no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell.
And of course, no theology, no metaphysics. Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.
So throw away your baggage and go forward.
There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet,
trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly.
Lightly my darling, on tiptoes and no luggage,
not even a sponge bag, completely unencumbered.”
~ Aldous Huxley, Island
This is one of my favorite poems. I’ve known these words for years. And for years, I’ve known that I should not drink. And now, more than ever, these words seem so incredibly relevant. The fear. The self-pity and dispair. The thought of quicksands pulling at my feet.
And the idea that perhaps I’m creating this resistance by trying too hard. By creating worry and sadness around the thought of never drinking again… and maybe this is telling me to shift my perspective. To not make it about never drinking again. But rather… about not drinking right now. Today. And then today will be tomorrow. And hopefully, before I know it, there will have been many "todays" that I have walked so lightly through. One gentle step closer at a time.
Hello, sobriety. I'm coming for you. Lightly.
Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.
Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.
Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.
I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig.
Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me. When it comes to dying even.
Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic. No rhetoric, no tremolos,
no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell.
And of course, no theology, no metaphysics. Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.
So throw away your baggage and go forward.
There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet,
trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly.
Lightly my darling, on tiptoes and no luggage,
not even a sponge bag, completely unencumbered.”
~ Aldous Huxley, Island
This is one of my favorite poems. I’ve known these words for years. And for years, I’ve known that I should not drink. And now, more than ever, these words seem so incredibly relevant. The fear. The self-pity and dispair. The thought of quicksands pulling at my feet.
And the idea that perhaps I’m creating this resistance by trying too hard. By creating worry and sadness around the thought of never drinking again… and maybe this is telling me to shift my perspective. To not make it about never drinking again. But rather… about not drinking right now. Today. And then today will be tomorrow. And hopefully, before I know it, there will have been many "todays" that I have walked so lightly through. One gentle step closer at a time.
Hello, sobriety. I'm coming for you. Lightly.
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