Hundreds of sparrows

Don't put all of your heart in one basket.

If you happen to be a recovering addict, you’ve heard these prohibitions before.

“Don’t sit around at home all day,” my doctor would say.

“Don’t hang around slippery people.”

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

The last edict was a little confusing. What kind of eggs was he suggesting I put in my basket?

It was only after I cracked a few of them that I started to get his drift.

Eggs are our hopes and dreams and investments in the future. So, for example, I had hoped a doctor would figure out what the hell was going on inside my chest.

Egg.

But the doctor couldn’t quite figure it out. So he dispatched me for another round of tests.

Broken egg.

These days I find myself very vulnerable to the crush of disappointment. Even things most people might shake off as trifling.

Just about every day, in one way or another, ambitions get thwarted. Sometimes, it’s as simple as there not being enough coconut milk left for the giant bowl of cereal you just prepared. Other times, it hits in the chest — like when I got a low grade on an exam and wondered if maybe going back to school was a mistake. Maybe I messed up my mind to the point where it could no longer be schooled.

Even recently, I had a snow day. It canceled classes and, inexplicably, bummed me out.

The most dangerous eggs of all are people.

In recovery, you meet a lot of them. And, because we’re starving for company — any company at all — we give them a lot of space in our basket.

When they show a few cracks — humans always do — we imagine they disappoint us. In truth, we disappoint ourselves.

We’re the fragile ones. Everything’s got to be just perfect. It’s like our whole recovery is being held together with chewing gum and bubble wrap.

One disappointment, and the whole contraption falls apart.

I wonder what kind of egg I am. What kind of cracks I show. Who wants me in their basket, anyway?

I know my own basket has plenty of holes.

It can’t hold much. The handles are weak too.

It’s not the kind of basket you take to Costco. Small portions.

Maybe a little bit of socializing with classmates. Some banter at the gym. Or an occasional swim with an acquaintance. Nice and easy, until you weave more threads into it — and make it as strong as everyone else’s basket.

The kind of basket that weathers the countless micro-storms of waking life.

And whatever you do, don’t put all of your heart in that basket.

Try, as best as you can, to distribute it evenly, amongst various people and pursuits. Think sparrow eggs. Those pretty speckled eggs with a hint of blue.

And remember, you are worth hundreds of them.