I signed up for a free workshop on yoga for runners, to be held at a big library out in the suburbs. After work yesterday, I got on the train to go out there. I had a book and I read my book and looked out the window. I got off the train at the stop closest to the library and sat at the bus stop to wait for the bus that would take me the rest of the way. I read my book and looked around. I got on a bus even though I kind of knew it was the wrong one. I got off a block later and walked back to the bus stop. I waited until after the workshop was to have started, then I got up to get back on the train to go home. Then I saw that I had been sitting at the wrong bus stop. I was momentarily disappointed in my bus-navigation skills but overall I wasn�t too put out, even though this little adventure had taken up most of my evening. I had enjoyed the train ride and even sitting at the bus stop, looking around at a neighborhood I rarely visited. I enjoyed the trip, even though the destination eluded me.

I think it�s important to be able to enjoy the trip and not focus entirely on the destination. It�s a lesson I need to apply to my sobriety. I�m on an expedition, but I think I spend too much time focusing on what I imagine to be my destination. I say �imagine� because I�m not sure it�s real. What I�m waiting to get to is some kind of sobriety nirvana, a sunny plateau where anxiety and desire fall away from me and I no longer even think about drinking or dwell on my life before I quit.

The problem with the sobriety nirvana idea is that its perfection overshadows the progress and improvements I�ve already really made. I�m constantly measuring myself against an unlikely fantasy, and coming up short. I should focus more on the expedition itself, with its discomforts, inconveniences, and occasional breakthroughs.

Does sobriety nirvana even exist? It�s a hard idea to give up, because giving up on sobriety nirvana means acknowledging a future of continuing (albeit minor) struggle. It�s nicer to keep on believing.

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