All of us, together and separately, have said of others and of ourselves, that anyone can make it. But in our hearts we doubt we can, at times each of us has doubted, been filled with doubt. Because we know, too well we know, that many can't.
All we are left with, sometimes, is hope and puzzlement: Recovery's Enigma.
A certain faith and an uncertain doubt are intertwined and from it a fabric both coarse and fine is woven.
So much of life a mystery and difficult and sometimes impossible to understand. Yet in moments distant and too close to us, at times we understand the very fabric of our lives and others can be torn apart.
We must work together to repair the damaged sail when the storm has calmed and we have taken measure of our losses and our gains. A thousand generations have brought us all this far. And by now we have learned that beyond the far horizon, soon another day will appear. We do our best to keep this ship in good repair, even knowing every day a multitude will die and a birth of plentitude will provide new menders who will tend to right our course.
Recovery's Enigma, that anyone can make it, yet many don't, becomes a good thing, not because in itself that it is good, but in our knowing we can make it right. Through learned strength and shared courage we continue to long, endure our struggles and to make life good. Move on. Move forward.
I don't know why I awoke in the middle of the night and felt compelled to write this. Somehow, the far horizon had become today, half a thousand years behind us and untold futures lie ahead.
I won't drink to that, to all of this, but I will pause.
Give thanks, be kind. There are many storms ahead. This is but one day for thanksgiving, with many more ahead. Give thanks. I'm going back to bed.