Drinking a cup of sorrow

I saw grief drinking a cup
of sorrow and called out,
"It tastes sweet, does it not?"
"You've caught me," grief answered,
"and you've ruined my business.
How can I sell sorrow,
when you know it's a blessing.?"
Rumi

There were newcomers at the meeting tonight. The topic was about the blessings that are in our lives.  It's hard to see the blessings through a veil of tears.  I know that the newcomers are wondering how sorrow could ever be a blessing. But eventually, after some time spent in meetings, listening so hard and hanging on every word, the message begins to sink in: I am blessed to have felt such sorrow because without the pain, I would not have found the light.

The sorrow that used to paralyse me and knot my stomach in anxiety has given way to so much gratitude.  And the true gratitude that takes some years to feel is that the sorrow which brought me here has become a blessing.  

I used to wonder how it would be possible to feel gratitude for that which hurt me.  Alcoholism does hurt, and it takes many prisoners.  I was one of the lucky ones who eventually became aware that there was a way to break free of the chains of the disease.  I realize that my years of being locked in by self-doubt, fear, anger, and resentment taught me about resiliency, hope, and love.  Loving an alcoholic is the great enigma because what I loved so dearly was what also hurt me.  

So my blessing today is that the sorrow brought me into recovery,  and when that enlightenment came into my life,  the darkness moved further away.