Adventure Of A Lifetime

Ah, Music: Mystical. Evocative. Healing. Magical.

2017 was a motherfucker. In music therapy the other day, each of us had to chose a song that somehow symbolized the past year. We then went around the room, announced our very personal choice, and that song was played while we all listened to it. The person who chose the song then talked a little bit about what the song meant to them and why they chose it. The experience proved incredibly powerful and moving.

The choices were as varied as the people who chose them. Everything from "Float On" by Modest Mouse, to "So Far Away" by Staind, to "Change" by Tracy Chapman. And people chose them for different reasons. Some chose a song that represented the year as a whole. Some chose a song that defined their throes into addiction during a very rough period, while others chose music that has helped them move through their recovery. 

I thought long and hard about what song I would pick. There were so many. I had a laundry list that felt relevant and poignant. And I could have gone in a million different directions.  

I considered the song "Ship To Wreck" by Florence + The Machine, because it was a song that I answered with a vehement "No" as I listened to it on the night of my last birthday (see my post about it). I considered a song called "Wicked Soldier" by Tonic, an upbeat rocker that's on every workout playlist, because I felt like a soul warrior for most of the year, battling my inner demons. "Mean Street" by Van Halen, another all time favorite, also resonated with a resounding clang of the heart; for I had walked my own self induced Mean Street for enough of the year to know I do not wanna go back. I ping-ponged with these choices, until another song hit me between the eyes and felt like a hot needle in my heart. 

"Adventure Of A Lifetime", by Coldplay.

I haven't been able to listen to that song in almost half a year. That song was Our Song; Me and My Sweet Angel's. I had heard it for the first time just before we got together in April of 2016, and I immediately fell madly in love with it. It was instantly one of those precious and rare songs that strikes the harp of your heart and the cello of your soul, and you have no idea why, nor do you care; You just accept it as an is, and you roll with it. Our first weekend together, in New York City, we played the song together and realized we both loved it. We fell for that song about as quickly and powerfully as we fell for each other: Instant-Head-Over-Heels-Ass-Over-Tea-Kettle-Full-Blown-Double-Whooper-With- Extra-Cheese-Madly-In Love-With-Each-Other. Magic. Just like the song.

I played that song when we weren't together to remind me of her, and it usually turned on my water works. I even sent her a video of me listening to that song and balling like a baby to it. That song was her to me. That song was us to me. It will always be her to me. It will always be us to me. A marriage of physical and meta-physical  form that defies words or explanation. It just Is. It just as sure as fuckin' shit, IS.

Sitting in music therapy group at Zen Recovery the other day, surrounded by people I trust and love, going through so much of the same shit as I am, I felt to myself "This is the time to hear it again. This feels like the right moment. This is It." 

So on it came. And on I sobbed, in front of a tribe I have I have only known for less than three weeks. 

I didn't chose that song because I wanted it to mean something different. I chose it because I wanted the support to be able to listen to it, at all. I chose it because, in addition to it being Our Song, my life over the past year has been the Fuckin' Adventure Of A Lifetime. I've spent most of it in treatment, doing the hardest work I've ever done in my life. 

It will never replace the meaning it has always held. It will just add to it. David Lee Roth once said "Everything I do in life is 'in addition to', not 'instead of' ". I connected so strongly with that quote, that I have attempted to live my life along those lines whenever possible. 

I'm not going to to blasting that song anytime soon. I'm just grateful that I could find the love and support to listen to it, Period. I'm not looking to redefine it, because, I can't (nor do I want to), and that would dilute what that song means to me. I am, however, looking to recover, to heal, to connect more deeply to this tribe I'm with and to my process of recovery. Any and all means at my disposal are thus fodder for that healing, for that connection, and for my own growth.

Whatever the fuck I'm doing these days, and whatever the fuck I'm doing for the rest of my life, I'm moving. I'll keep moving. Sometimes, so subtly, that I can't even see it, that I can't even feel it. But that doesn't mean something isn't happening.

Like the rock that becomes a geode of glistening Amythyst; like the slab of limestone that becomes gorgeous marble; like the hunk of aluminum oxide that becomes a sapphire; and, just like it says in "Adventure Of A Lifetime", I'm a "diamond taking shape".

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Following My Heart, Trusting My Gut, Using My Head, & Hearing My Angels

The options of where to go for recovery these days is mind boggling. When I first realized I needed serious help with depression back in January, I researched the crap out of what place would be best for me. I looked into about a dozen different facilities and spoke to as many people as I could who had experience with treatment. I did my due diligence. My intellect and tenacity served me well. I gathered and synthesized about as much information as I could handle. I didn't want to get into analysis paralysis (something I can be guilty of and something I can be really good at), but I wanted to make an informed decision.

 So after I had done all the research, this one place kept pulling me towards it. More precisely, this place was pulling my heart, and my gut was telling me "This is where you belong right now". So I followed my heart and my gut to a place called Sierra Tucson. Even though it meant I had to pay out of pocket, while there were plenty of other options that my insurance would have completely covered. I was fortunate and blessed to have the resources to go anyplace. And I knew that, because I had the means, when it came to saving my life, there could not be a price tag.

After my 5 weeks in residential treatment at Sierra Tucson, I had to choose where to go next for my Intensive Outpatient treatment, the next step in my recovery from depression. I once again did my research. As is the case in the wacky world of insurance coverage, I had choices that would have cost me next to nothing. But my heart and my gut, once again, were telling me where to go. And, just as importantly, I trusted my primary therapist at Sierra Tucson. She was the best therapist I ever had, and I love her dearly. So I chose The Camden Center in Los Angeles. Once again, it was the right place for me.

When I got back to Boston and relapsed into a sea of alcohol, I knew I needed more help. Some dear and precious friends came to my aid, and I am forever grateful. However, this time, in my compromised state, I made an impulsive decision and ended up going to a facility in California. It was a great place. Wonderful people, amazing group of recovering addicts, and I have nothing bad to say about it. But it just didn't feel like the right place for me at that time. I was in a really bad place. I cried a lot, got on my knees many times, asked my Spirit Guides and my Angels for help, and meditated on what to do. There was a reunion for Sierra Tucson alumni starting in just a few days that was yanking at my heart and hitting the hot spots in my gut, activating my instinct. So I left that place in California, against clinical advice, and went to the reunion. 

The reunion was the best place I could have been, the best thing I could have done, and the best move I had made for myself since I had left treatment in August. One again, my heart and my gut led me where I needed to be. And I listened to my Angels and to my Spirit Guides.

Continuing the broken record theme, when I relapsed once again when I went to Phoenix after the reunion, I knew I needed another detox facility to clean up. And once again, the options were many. I reached out to my sister Cheryl (I don't know where I'd be without her), and found a sponsor named Angel (coincidence? No fuckin' way). And once again, my insides were guiding me to a particular place. So that's where I went. That's where I am now. And it's exactly where I need to be.

I believe in higher planes, higher powers, and the spirit of the divine, My Spirit Guides made themselves known to me. I've realized that I've got Angels in my corner. I've always had Angels in my corner. I just never fully accepted that. My ego and my ignorance got in my way. My Angels have been silently, and not so silently, guiding me just as much as anything else.

I keep having to learn this lesson over and over again: My mind, my powerful intellect, is but a tool. And, potentially, a dangerous Weapon Of Mass Self Destruction. 

My mind, like any tool, when properly applied, is useful in getting the job done. But it isn't actually doing the work. I am doing the work. And I am not my mind. I am not my intellect. 

Using just my mind to make decisions is like this is like building a house by just researching what the best hammer is, buying that hammer, but not using it properly. You need so much more. You need your body to take action. You need your heart to fire your passion to create the house. You need your gut to guide you on the many decisions you have to make. You need your Angels, your Spirit Guides, to counsel you to make the whole process a divine experience. 

"The Great I Am", as they call it in 12 step programs, can not do this alone. I need a community. I need other people. I knew that when I was in treatment, but quickly forgot that once I got home. I've come to know that when I synthesize my head, my heart, my gut, and trust My Angels and my Spirit Guides, ask for help from the people I love and reach out to my tribe, that I find peace and clarity in the middle of a shit storm. I find that I move ahead in life. I find that I follow the path I was meant to travel.

This has been a hard lesson for me to learn. As I've said, I can be guilty of having one hard fuckin' head. I have a strong will, but I also have a strong won't. Those must be stringently tempered by higher, wiser, more enlightened, more ethereal elements that exist not only inside of me but outside of me, on a much higher plane. 

My will and my won't can't run the show on their own.

Been there. Done that. It don't work.

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved

Hard Head Huge Heart

When I boxed in college, I never got knocked down. In one fight, my nose got broken so badly I looked like a cartoon character. I incurred black eyes, bloody lips, and gashes on my face. I could take a punch. Because, literally, I have a hard fuckin' head.

That's an asset in fighting. Not so much anywhere else. In the figurative sense, I'm capable of having a hard head when I do life. I can be one resistant, stubborn mofo. Not proud of that, but at last coming to terms with it. Particularly around my struggles with substances. 

At the same time, I have a huge heart. When I love you, I love you with all I have. When I love you, I'll take a bullet for you. 

Sometimes, my hard head and huge heart are at odds with one another. My stone headedness comes from a place of fear, whilst my big heart comes from a place of love. The two don't mix well. They don't play well together. 

I'm working on softening both. And strengthening both. At times, I don't have a clue how to do that. Really, my ultimate objective is to change the paradigm. To change the game. To raise my whole life to another level. To approach the whole challenge from someplace else. From a wiser, more enlightened place.

I know I have that in me. I proved it to myself in treatment. I'm proving it to myself every day.

I don't want it to feel like a war, anymore.

I'm doing that one day, one hour, sometimes, one moment, at a time.

 ©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red f Publishing. All rights reserved.

Coyote Beautiful

Two nights ago, on my way to my first AA meeting in Arizona, I had two pounds of raw flank steak in my hands. Not the usual carry-on baggage for a meeting.

The how and why of carrying said beef as I made my way towards my car is uninteresting. But the bottom line was that I had to get rid of it. Deboning and throwing it down the disposal would be a waste of precious resources. I wanted to give it back to Mother Earth and let Her figure out what to do with it. Because, fuck, let's face it, She's a lot wiser than I am.

At this time, I'm staying at my sister Cheryl's beautiful house in Scottsdale, Arizona. She lives at the foot of some stunning ochre colored mountains, the hues of which you don't see back east. I've been here a half dozen times in the past few years. And, despite her home's immersion in nature, the wildlife I've encountered here has been limited to birds and the occasional reptile. Nature is magical, and I appreciate any and all contact with animals. At the same time, seeing birds and reptiles out here was nothing to write home about.

As I exited her home the other night, however, my eyes immediately caught sight of a beautiful and legendary predator: the Coyote. The first one I had ever seen in all my thousands of hours here in The Grand Canyon State. There she was. Less than one hundred feet from me. She froze when she saw me, as animals do when they are startled, and looked me right in the eyes. And I had raw meat in my hands. This was perfect.

Not the least bit afraid, for I felt an instant impatico, and I knew that Coyote's are not usually aggressive towards humans. This one skirted off within a few seconds after we made eye contact. Positively transfixed by her bewitching presence, even as she bolted off, I watched her, mesmerized, as her splendid form disappeared into the desert.  

I believe in Divine Intervention. I believe in Signs From Nature and From Powers Far Higher Than Myself. My human interpretation of such omens are open to the infinite mechanizations of my own sometimes hyper-active mind. So I won't get into the myriad of that. 

Let's just say I Saw it, I Felt It, I Experienced It, as A Message From Above. I knew I was In The Right Place, At The Right Time.

Then I Did The Next Right Thing. I threw the raw beef into the desert, knowing the coyote would eventually come back and eat it. I gave back to Mother Earth. To Mother Nature. To my new fleeting friend.

As I drove the thirty minutes to my meeting, top down in my rented Camaro SS convertible, playing on a loop, blasted at full-throttle-ear-assaulting volume,"Enter Sandman" (my current Song Of Compete Obsession), I felt a sense of calm, of peace, of connection to Life, that has recently proven somewhat elusive.

I get to my meeting, and I sit down. Within thirty seconds, a man plants himself two seats next to me, with a little dog on a leash. Adorable little fucker. This was obviously not the critter's first meeting. When we all clapped, the dog rose up on his hind legs and literally, clapped his paws with us. When we were quiet during heavy moments, he was docile, subdued, and respectful. The lovable little dude felt the energy of the room and responded accordingly. He was more humane, maybe even more human, than I have been at times.

The dog, "French Fry", and I became fast friends. He made his way over to me, as far as his leash would allow, and I petted, stroked, and rubbed him under his neck, behind his ears, and on his back, for over thirty minutes. I looked him in the eyes and made that special contact between human and animal. My second experience of such that night. I was on the verge of tears the entire meeting. 

A beautiful, sensitive, man's man named Angel, originally from New York City, read from a book and thus spoke quite a bit during the hour. We connected after the meeting, and he's become my temporary sponsor whilst I'm here in Scottsdale. Those of you who know me can connect the dots on that one. Those who don't, read more of what I've written under the category of "Angel" in the Blog Archives section of this website. 

I won't even get into what happened the next day, which was yesterday. Because I am practicing gratitude. I am practicing acceptance. I am practicing no expectations. I am practicing letting go.

Let's just say I have Angels Watching Over Me. Beautiful, Wise, Loving, Gifted, Angels. In all their Wonderous Forms.

©2017, Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

At The Edge Of My Forever

I dreamt of her last night
Sweet
Beautiful
Her

I awoke
Laughing
Crying
Feeling
Missing
Wondering

Do You ever dream of me?
Do you feel the same pull
Towards a sacred space
Where our two hearts beat as one
Where our two souls
Live together

Letting Go
Does not always mean
Stop Loving
Stop Caring
Stop Missing

Sometimes
I don’t know what it means
Except
Sometimes
It  just hurts

I Love You At The Edge Of My Forever

- Clint Piatelli