An introduction to the compassion of kava

A compassionate space

One of the first things that I noticed when I began drinking kava was that it was a very compassionate, kind beverage. It didn’t rob me of my health, money, and senses when I drank it. It didn’t make me angry, jealous, or crazy. Kava didn’t make me feel the deep shame I always felt while drinking heavily. Kava didn’t expose me to moments of public embarrassment, or lead to mental health anguish, broken bones, and hospitalizations.

You see, when I was kindly introduced to kava I was a bit of a mess. I’d been sharing a room with another dude at a sober living home in Colorado Springs, CO called the Corona House (irony). There were seven dudes packed into a four bedroom house with two bathrooms and one kitchen. This is not an immediately enjoyable situation, living with so many strangers. But when you are down and out, having a bed and a hot shower at the Corona House was way better than living on the street, which wasn’t off of the table for most of us.

I’d managed to stay sober for a while, longer than my normal 42 day record that I’d managed in rehab. At around 6 months into sobriety the house manager relapsed, and they needed a new house manager. The house manager got their own small bedroom (we called it “The Closet") and didn’t have to pay rent, which could really help a guy save up scratch to get the hell out of there. I got the gig, which included having to drug test the guys if I thought something was up, facilitate the house AA meeting, admit new guys into the house, fill out paperwork, stamp court cards, and generally make sure the house operated at a standard that was going to be conducive to recovery.

Several of us became really great friends, particularly Paul, Trevor, Jasper and I. We would stay up late drinking coffee and smoking cigs, playing Settlers of Catan Dungeons and Dragons until midnight, hackin’ sack out in the parking lot of the Corona House until 2am. It was genuinely a very happy time in my life. Despite the circumstances, we were sober and having a pretty good time being sober.

These were really great guys, and were mostly total goofballs. Especially Jasper. Jasper was our game night leader, and made these great hand-crafted cutouts for our D&D games that were super creative and well-done. Jaspers infectious laughter lifted the mood of the entire house. All of these guys were great, but Jasper, Trevor, Paul and I were always goofing off and having more fun than the rest it seemed.

A guy named James moved into the house and I immediately found him both loveable and annoying. He was eclectic, a bit of a story teller, and a major goof ball. He was also drinking this weird, brown (what looked like dirt) water that he said his naturopathic doctor prescribed for his “anxiety disorder”. We actually had a bit of an issue over it, because I was supposed to be keeping the guys in the house on the path of sobriety and recovery, and here was James with some kind of drug mud from Papua New Guinea. I decided to approach him in the kitchen and have a discussion about it with him.

“Hey man, I don’t know how I feel about you drinking that kava stuff here. It kinda seems like you’re getting f#$@ed up on it!”

”No way man! You just don’t get it, brother. You see that machine right behind you!? It makes coffee! Coffee is a drug, it’s a stimulant, and its addictive to and we make it every morning at this supposed ‘SOBRIETY HOUSE’. Kava is kinda like coffee in the other direction. It makes you relaxed and calm instead of all jacked up and strung out like the beans!”

I was a bit stumped. He had a point. It was a natural root, and he didn’t seem to be “inebriated” when he was drinking the stuff, just less bugged out and stressy.

I relapsed not too long after that encounter and lost my house manager position. As it turns out, high-dollar fancy restaurant bartending was not going to work out real well for me. I rejoined the ranks of the house as just another guy trying to sober up again. This time, my ego was pretty beat down and I was pretty low. I’d been "Captain Sobriety” and leader of the house, but then I had violated the sanctity of my station and gotten loaded again. I had let them down. I had let myself down.

This low opinion of myself has often led me back to what I define as “destructive drinking”. Uninterrupted periods pf extensive binge drinking. The night that I first tried kava, I was feeling blue, and I felt a bit like tempting fate. I wandered around downtown Colorado Springs, watching the good people drink on patios, just itching in my own skin, thirsty as mariner stuck on some wretched island. All of a sudden I arrived at a fork in the road. Before me were two options; Gin Distillery / Speak Easy to my left, “Ohana Kava Bar” on my right.

There it is again. That kava stuff. I walked into the kava bar for the first time and instantly loved the atmosphere. The place had a vibe. Everyone was drinking out of what looked like… Guacamole Bowls? I was immediately intrigued. I sat at the bar and a lovely young woman explained what kava was. I ordered a bowl. What the hell, you only live once, right? I ordered a bowl of the strongest stuff they had.

It was a kava concentrate that tasted like it could take paint off of a wall, served with a side of pineapple. I was instructed to slam it, so I chugged it down and popped that piece of pineapple in my mouth as quickly as possible. Immediately my whole mouth and throat went numb. I felt an almost immediate head change. Stress dissipated. I found myself feeling uplifted, a bit more socially interested in my surroundings. I began to have genuine, comfortable interactions with the people around me. I had another bowl. The thought of harder spirits was no longer forefront in my minds eye. This kava stuff was incredibly interesting, and I wanted to know more.

I started hanging around the kava bar a lot, picking up bits and pieces here and there, trying to figure out what this stuff was and whether or not it was sketchy. It didn’t feel sketchy. It felt like another recovery community. A weird, eclectic, ragtag conglomeration of weirdos that weren’t drinking booze (or trying not to). The regulars at the kava bar were a tight knit crew, and I was starting to feel like one of them. Ohana Kava Bar started to feel like home.

I lucked into a job at Ohana Kava Bar, and all of a sudden the interesting, bizarre world of zero-proof kava bars became my life. I loved every part of it. The people, the drinks, the teas (oh, how I love tea), the music and events and overall scene. It was funky, and fun, and friendly. It was in the heart of downtown Colorado Springs, and it had all the eclectic weirdness that accompanies a bigger city in the Mountain West. This place was packed with characters, and I seemed to be at the heart of it all.

Community. It seems to blossom where ever kava plants it’s seeds. Kava brings us together, as it has brought people together for thousands of years. I found myself at the center of a thriving community of kava drinkers, and all of a sudden I became reacquainted with passion. I became driven. I had a goal. I wanted to create my own kava bar, focused on traditional water extracted kava. I became obsessed. The rest is history.

Now that Karuna Kava Bar is open, I get to witness the miracle happen. Our kava community grows everyday, and as we share our nonalcoholic social space with others I find myself growing nostalgic. Now, I’m still working late nights at the kava bar, I’m just going home to a beautiful wife and two amazing children instead of a house full of my sobriety buddies. I feel incredibly lucky to have made it into a better way of living. I also feel a deep and persistent sadness for my friends that didn’t make it. Especially my dear friend Jasper, who sadly lost the fight with addiction and depression in the spring of 2019.

If you are out there and you are struggling, it can and almost inevitably will get better if you just don’t give up. Find compassion for yourself, and do your best to access the passion that ignites your heart. Let that passion take you to great places. Your mindset will determine the outcome.

Dedicated to Jasper Kemper. We miss you buddy.