The Big Little Things in Alcoholic Sobriety

As we walked the hiking path, I found myself constantly staring up at the canopy of leaves a hundred feet or more above the forest floor. The trees were amazingly tall and lush, and the green barrier above was so thick that it blocked most of the sun’s rays. “Trees don’t grow like this in Colorado,” I said to my wife and kids as we walked. “It is too dry for them to flourish like this.” We were walking on a wooded trail in McCormick’s Creek State Park in southern Indiana, and the forest floor was as thick with dense, green plants as the tree canopy was above. It rains there most everyday in the spring and summer, and the humid air is full of moisture when the sun is out. The trees and plants love the ideal growing conditions. There is a reason most of our plant-based food supply comes from the midwest. The majestic trees were there to brag about it.

I bet the midwest natives in the park that day didn’t even notice the trees. Sometimes it takes a person with different experiences to appreciate the beauty in things others take for granted. I bet the natives noticed the bugs and the humidity more than the glory above. But I noticed. I noticed because for 25 years as a heavy drinker, I never would have taken the time to look up. I was too busy looking for my next drink.