Saturday night. Air so thick with moisture you could cut it with a broken bottle. The kind of night that starts trouble. When you’re out late, all done up … to no good.  Where you’re itchin’ for for a good time and wanting to make it count.  Sitting in a crowd of people; thousands in fact.  Bawdy, screaming, hollering, almost fervent alcoholics.  The exception being … they’re not drunk.  In fact, they’re yelling at the top of their lungs because they’re sober. Ten thousand to be exact. It was deliciously outrageous.

I had a snapshot moment. Where time slowed and I was fully aware of the magnitude of those around me.  That everyone in that stadium had been … exactly where I had been.  On death’s door. Alone. Ashamed. Abandoned. Astoundingly and absolutely amuck in sick.  And here we were, for that moment in time; as one entity, ingratiated into a celebration of healthy.

This certainly wasn’t my first Founders Day. If I’m not too brain damaged it’s number fourteen. But for some odd reason this was different. I was more awake than I’d ever been, perhaps looking through the eyes of a writer this time; wanting to cherish every perception.  What I reveled in the most became clear at a meeting earlier this evening. My friend Jeremy (see I told ya I’d give you props) mentioned the idea of what I call the “ripple effect”.

Big Book studies are my thing. I’m all about the “textiness”, being the word whore that I am.  In reading the foreword to the second edition, my friend (named Jeremy … that’s two times sport), verbalized the idea of not only how recovery touches the alcoholic/addict; but how it impacts everyone the sick touches.  Family, friends, employers, businesses, other drivers, society as a whole … yadda yadda yadda. The ripple effect.

Concentric circles of positive energy with every “Hi. I’m ____ and I’m an addict/alcoholic/gambler/sex addict/food addict et cetera”.  Impacting the lives of all around us with the simplest of things.  A stone in the pond. Every time, every second, every moment that we choose life bringing recovery is a moment of unity.

If you’re anything like me … there are moments that I’m an utter waste of space. Unimportant, nothing to say, nothing of note.  Bullshit, of course, easily dispelled with stepwork. What impact am I making just by showing up? Perhaps contributing to the greater good by simply not driving drunk/high; or by being: accountable, a parent, a productive member of society, part of a fellowship. Even by simply reaching out to say hello to a still suffering newcomer.  You never know how you impact the world with your contribution. The waves you create touch millions. Literally. Your presence; your essence, can make the way just a little bit brighter for the rest of us.

One of ten thousand in a stadium; so that the handful of people who stood up with one day sober, can have hope.  The man with 62 years who was raucously cheered for five minutes; who simply … kept coming back.  You never know who’s watching or what “ripple” you’re making. And honestly we’re usually the last one to see our impact.  What do you want your waves in the pond to be?  Hope? Love? Experience?  Recovery is a miracle that can move mountains.  And in your darkest moments; know that you DO indeed make a difference. Whether you realize it or not.  For put all our “ripples” together and we can make waves – exponentially. Ten thousand, times ten thousand, times ten thousand … times.