“Two birds, flying East, hit the night

at 3 in the afternoon; stars came out

over the badlands, and the billowy

snowlands; they floundered on

resolving not to turn back in search

of lost afternoon; continuing

through cotton wildernesses.”

-Denise Levertov

Not that anyone’s counting…but it’s is my thirteenth day of being alcohol-free for Lent.

I don’t want to make this sound onerous. It’s been ridiculously easy thus far. I certainly don’t want to give an impression of a struggle, like the worthy efforts of anyone trying to do something as Everest-like as giving up an addiction.

If anything, I consider myself a pretty light drinker (except for the rather debauched bacchanalian hijinks of my teens and early (hmmm, maybe even late?) twenties (okay! okay! perhaps my thirties had their moments too).

But, in the last decade or so, I mostly drink wine with dinner and I enjoy the odd cocktail.  So really, in spite of this being mostly a daily indulgence, how much was I truly giving up for Lent?

But then, consider my caffeine intake. It too seems rather minimal. I have my cappuccino in the morning and my afternoon coffee at three in the afternoon. There are odd exceptions where I’m offered, and enjoy, a coffee in-between those times, but that’s pretty rare.  However, take away my coffee for 24 hours and the onset of a severe headache is almost guaranteed.

Perhaps what for one is an innocuous amount, might be a little bigger thing for a different constitution?

I don’t know what will come of this forty days of heading into the unknown world of Lent, but I have discovered a few things:

• I seem to be eating slower and more consciously.
• I have lost four pounds (a rather delightful side benefit).
• I feel clearer in my body/mind (this, however, has not stopped me from perimenopausal lapses and gaps in cognition; especially concerning calendars).
• I’m drinking more water.
• I’m not sure whether to attribute this next benefit to Lent, the brightening Spring days or just coming out of winter’s thrall, but that damned black dog that has been chewing my heels most of the winter seems to have lost his strength.  Then again, perhaps it’s simply a matter of him no longer being able to keep up to my morning walks…
• Again, I’m not sure this last point is a Lenten-byproduct, or part of getting older, but I feel slightly giddy with my increasing ability to be exactly who I am. In other words, to follow my weird and to think it’s pretty cool (I also give this blog some credit for that. Because it’s here, on these glowing pages, that I challenge myself to tell the truth, be authentic, to take risks with what I write and let the cards fly where they may).

But mostly?

Ever since I quit drinking, I feel kind of drunk.