Last week I found myself on the back of a majestic white horse under the light of a full moon.
Only in sobriety have I learned to turn my tomorrows into my todays. And only in sobriety have I remembered what my soul has known all along—that life is a precious, uncertain gift and we cannot numb the dark without numbing the light. On a horse, there is little choice but to be mindful of each moment. Posture and position are crucial; each movement significant. There is a feeling of rider and animal being connected in both the physical and spiritual senses. There is a language that is spoken but cannot be heard. In the saddle, I am reminded to breathe fully and deeply, perhaps for the first time that day. My senses come alive as I take in the fresh, earthy air. There is a little human conversation in the arena, other than calm, steady direction from the instructor. Every sound is heightened: the clip-clop of hooves, the chirping of crickets, and the soft neighs from adjacent stables. I am awed by the strength and grace of the 1,200-pound animal beneath me, as well as my own power to respectfully command him. Last Wednesday, with reins between my hands and the moon as my witness, I found myself exactly where I long to be. Those who have found freedom from alcohol addiction will recognize these moments as whispers from the universe that we are on the right path. The greatest lesson that I have learned in recovery is the power of connection—with myself, with an authentic and loving support community, and with the mystery of life.
To others in the arena, this may have appeared just an ordinary Wednesday night—a woman in her forties, new to horseback riding, who would be rushing home after the group lesson to assist her three children with homework and tuck them into bed. But had anyone looked close enough, they might have caught it—the soft gratitude on my lips, the tears behind my eyes, and the wonder in my skyward gaze.
For this was no typical Wednesday evening. And anyone in recovery from alcohol addiction will understand why.
For years, I'd been choosing evening wine over the life I was meant to live. The wine had become my greatest reward at the end of any day, even after drinking itself had grown far from rewarding. At night I may have been physically home with my husband and children, but I certainly wasn't fully present. Buried in my soul were a multitude of magnificent dreams, left dormant and unanswered while stuck in active addiction. Maintaining the façade of a high-functioning, healthy adult— while so clearly not one—required tremendous discipline, effort, and in my case, secrets. There was no time or space for magnificent dreams. For years, I’d mistakenly believed that alcohol caused me to soar, when in fact it had merely caged my soul and clipped my wings. Not only did alcohol cause me to suffer an internal disconnect, but it separated me from the outside world, too. My drinking which had once forged connections now left me isolated. But I'm one of the lucky ones. Now eighteen months into recovery, I've not only learned that I can live without alcohol, but that my life in sobriety is far more worthy of living. I've put down the wine glass and instead picked up the reins of life.
And every so often, on the most extraordinary of nights, with a white horse and a full moon, too.
These days, I do most of my dreaming awake.
Horse riding was one of those unanswered dreams of mine. Recently the vision of me on horseback resurfaced, and this time I didn’t look away. Instead, I rose from my chair and reached for my phone.
| Photograph : Jennifer horse riding Feb. 2022 |
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