Two years ago today, I stopped drinking. It was my 55-1/2 birthday and the old habits weren’t serving me well any more. In the process of making some changes, I’ve recognized a whole new world of need, and met good people working to meet those needs.

Last weekend I celebrated my upcoming anniversary by attending a sober powwow on the Fond du Lac reservation, just south of Duluth. It was the 46th annual sobriety powwow on the site of Mash Ka Wisen, a residential treatment facility, and one of the only ones in the nation rooted in Indigenous tradition and culture.

I had heard about the sober powwow last fall as I was doing some work on the White Earth reservation. “Who do I need to talk to?” I asked and got connected with Jim who invited me to attend and help them tell their story.

Indigenous communities suffer from higher rates of addiction than most other demographic groups. The reasons are complex, heartbreaking, and rooted in generational trauma. This powwow was both a recognition of those challenges and a celebration of those working towards and living in recovery. 

Frank Goodwin was the emcee for the powwow and he called out A Peace of My Mind’s work and encouraged people to stop by our booth to share a story and answer the question, “What has helped you move toward healing?” As Frank said, “The more we tell our stories, the stronger we get.”

At the end of the weekend there was a registry and roll call. People wrote their names in a log book and listed the length of time they had been sober. At the end of the event, they would be called into the arena one by one to be recognized and join together for one last dance.

I intended to just observe that roll call because in some ways this  was not my community. But other attendees encouraged me to add my name to the list and join the celebration, because in other ways, it absolutely was my community.

Writing my name in the log book, I noticed some of the dates and lengths of sobriety. 51 years and one month. 18 years. One month. 3,579 days.  And directly below that, two days.

One by one the names were called and people made their way into the arena. The audience applauded as each person worked their way around the circle and greeted all the others who were already there.

In the end there were dozens. Maybe more than a hundred?  All shaking hands and offering words of encouragement.  Congratulations. You’re doing it. Well done. Keep going.

When everyone was standing together, there were 1,400 years of sobriety in the ring. I’m glad I wove my two years into the fabric of the day and I’m grateful for having been welcomed into the ceremony.

I’ll share some of these stories in the next week or two. I think this is the start of a whole new body of work. I’m not sure exactly what it will look like, but I know it needs to be done and I’m glad it started here. There is pain that needs healing in the world and like Frank says, “The more we tell our stories, the stronger we get.”