Thirty four years ago when I got sober, this was the mantra that I said to myself over and over.  Many times it was one hour at a time, one minute at a time, because the anguish of being present, of not running away from myself was so great.

Today, I am repeating that mantra.  My lovely therapist said to me, “Just for today you are powerless.”  I don’t like being powerless, particularly when it comes to my children.  I want to be able to save them, to help them, especially when they are a terrible danger to themselves.

This morning I awoke from a nightmare about my daughter with a terrible headache, a feeling of foreboding, “It is a wave,” I kept repeating.  “Let it pass, dive under it.”  Then I walked down to the sea and let one small wave after another wash over me.  The water was cold, I could not get enough.  I wanted to be the water, I wanted to dissolve.  The sea felt anesthetic, cleansing, alchemical.

I am taking steps.  Most of them do not have to do with my missing daughter.  They have to do with swimming in the waters of my own carnal experience, of wading into my work with devotion and delight.  With listening, appreciating, praying.  Being present, one precious day, one step at a time.