God, Meditation & Indiana Jones

You should know that I usually don’t break the rules… Usually. I like to think of myself as an instrument  of sound moral judgment with a  perpetually crescendoing set of ethical values.  A God fearing man with a hint of sophistication and lacking in pretention. Now that I have prefaced this story with my good nature, I feel safe in disclosing my bad behavior. Eleven months ago,  my self will and I went rogue and snuck contraband into my room while I was in reprieve at a local treatment center. Friends, I went all “Lindsay” on some soda pop. <Gay Gasp!> We, my self will and I, broke the “No food or drink allowed in the bedroom” rule. Ironically, it was US being bad that got ME good with God. Let me explain.

It was 10:00 pm, lights out for us men. I made my way to the room mentally exahusted from the day long therapy yet physically agitated from sitting all day. I wasn’t ready to go to bed and I didn’t think I could if I wanted to. Either way I needed to get this Diet Dr. Pepper can out of my pocket before the staff noticed the bulge. My cell-mate, excuse me, my roommate was already asleep. He was coming down off of methadone and hadn’t slept in days because of the pain, bless his heart. Besides, I wouldn’ t dare wake Big Joe on a good day. I quietly opend my DDP took a swig and sat it on the night stand. What to do? My Big Book homework was caught up and I had finished my essay that morning. I was wishing for an issue of Entertainment Weekly or Time, heck I would have thumbed a Cosmo Teen anything to read besides the Big Book and 12 and 12. Maybe I should meditate, we thought.  My counselor had been pushing me to learn this ancient practice since I arrived. I knew that if I ever wanted to recover I had to give myself to this simple program and to take the advice that was offered by those who had gone before me. The truth is, I had no idea how to meditate but I was willing to try.

I sat indian style, palms up with my back against the wall. Was I supposed to inhale or exhale my Omm’s? I peeked over to make sure Big Joe’s Ambien was still in effect. Thankfully it was, because I’m sure I looked completely ridiculous. I took a deep breath and exhaled a gentle, “Ommmmmmmm” chasing the tone with some church giggles. Meditation is supposed to clear the mind so you can listen to God. So why was I singing? Frustrated, I gave up the Guru act and reached for a drink. Suddenly, as if on cue, my reach rolled the bed away from the wall hitting the night stand starting the butterfly effect of events that led to this blog entry. Tacoed between the wall and the bed I was helpless as my contraband emptied itself onto the floor. Sweet baby jesus I was busted!

I waded throught the soda and skulked down the hall to the mop closet. The door was locked! Of course it was. Why would it be open? Us addicts might abuse the broom. Anyways, I wasn’t about to ask the midnight tech for the key and divulge my criminal behavior so I made my way to the kitchennette in hopes of finding better luck. The paper towels, I use that term loosely, were kept in the cabinet above the five gallon tea pitcher. They were the brown tri-fold sort popular with middle schoool bathrooms across the country. As you will remember they are about as absorbent as a cue tip in Lake Erie. I was reaching for a stack when my belly hit the release lever on the keg of tea. It was a tea tsunami! After a machine burst of expletives I got down on my hands and knees and cleaned up the mess occasionally peeking over my shoulder. When I was finished I grabbed another stack and scurried down the hall back to my room. I didn’t bring enough! I did however manage to create some lovely Dr. Pepper infused Origami.  Sooooo, I snuck back to the kitchenette grabbed the last stack of towels, leap jete back to the room, checked on Big Joe’s Ambien and took my place back on my knees when I saw myself with Indian Jones on his quest for the Holy Grail.

In the film, Indian Jones and the last Crusade the famed archaeologist reaches the entrace to the Holy Grail, where three deadly challenges are demanded before one can drink from the cup of life.  The first challenge, “The breath of God”.  He reads the cryptic instruction, “The Breath of God: Only the penitent man will pass”.  He repeats this over and over again as he enters. “The Breath of God; only the penitent man will pass. The penitent man will pass. The penitent man is humble before God. Penitent man is humble… kneels before God. Kneel!” Suddenly two blades come flying at Indiana, but he KNEELS out of the way just in time. I understood instantly why I had remembered this scene. Through a situation of humorous events God had brought me to my knees. I sat in the puddle of soda humbled by his wit and mysterious ways. I had come to him willing,  asking for help, and he answered in that cryptic code special only to he and I. “Only the the penitent man will pass.”

My name is Brock Cravy and I’m addicted to me.

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