Last night, I found myself lying in an industrial estate-turned wellness studio in a trendy part of town, swaddled in blankets and clutching a crystal. ‘Ask the crystal its name’ invited the impossibly beautiful ‘modern Shaman’ leading the ceremony. I had to stifle a tut/snort hybrid, but before long, I was tuning into the ‘vibrations’ of the crystal and entering a deep meditation under the light of the full moon.
One of the unexpected and glorious side effects of stopping drinking is that it’s opened me up to a whole new world of crazy ways to anchor my sobriety. If you’d said to me 12 months ago I’d be stuffing crystals in my bra and keeping them by my bedside, I’d think you were mad. But somewhere in the last 12 months, my sober interests have become a bit more openminded and frankly more ‘out there’ than I’d previously ever have imagined. I reserve a large dose of skepticism for many of these hippy tools, as I’m yet to see any scientific evidence of the benefits of crystals or sage smudging or any of the other new practices I’ve become open to, but in these new rituals, I find an incredible sense of connection and comfort. When drinking, the blurred lines of reality, the pain, the anguish and numbness all contributed to me being completely out of tune with my body and mind. I remember saying to friends over and over, ‘I can’t trust myself’ and ‘I don’t know what I think and feel.’ My intuition was literally and metaphorically buried. But in sobriety, my intuition has become a really finely honed instrument. I can trust my gut, I can tune into it, and I’m constantly seeking out ways to try and know it more intimately. It started with meetings and meditation, and has progressed to more… ‘experimental’ types of self exploration.
The first time I held a crystal, I felt a sense of deep connection to the earth. I weighed it in my hand and felt a vibration so subtle it was almost intangible, but I felt something there. In the early days, sobriety was about grounding into myself, learning to sit with my emotions, the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach and my swirling head. As I progress through sobriety, a fierce desire has developed in me to give myself the space to ground myself to the earth, to the community around me and to the natural rhythms of life. Sitting last night in the crystal/full moon ritual, I caught myself laughing at what a privileged, slightly ridiculous act it was to spend £30 on an evening like this, but I came out with a sense of connection and clarity I haven’t had in months.
As we lay, swaddled, we explored the unique qualities of the smoky quartz stone we held in our hands. Mine had a beautiful layer of white crystal, surrounded by the depths of dark shades. The stone felt like a beautiful metaphor for my current experiences of sobriety: the light and the dark can exist simultaneously, and I don’t need to try and stamp out the dark within, for it has a beautiful quality in itself. My darker side, which once manifested itself in alcoholism, will always exist, and is also the origin of some of my better qualities: my sensitivity, my deep well of emotion and my capacity for self-reflection. The dark and the light exist simultaneously, side by side, and that is ok.
Last night I remembered an important lesson: sobriety is about finding my soul’s medicine, over and over again, daily. And when I neglect to administer that medicine, I find myself in the deep anguish I’ve been experiencing of late. I used to resent the fact that sobriety is a constant work in progress, but I’m starting to open myself up to the notion that it’s an opportunity for never ending discovery.
Happy Thursday x
