Daily Reprieve

From the Daily Reflections of October 28;

We conceive the survival and spread of Alcoholics Anonymous to be something of far greater importance than the weight we could collectively throw back of any other cause.   (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 177)

How much it means to me that an unbroken tradition of more than half a century is a thread that connects me to Bill W. and Dr. Bob. How much more grounded I feel to be in a Fellowship whose aims are constant and unflagging. I am grateful that the energies of A.A. have never been scattered, but focused instead on our members and on individual sobriety.

My beliefs are what make me human; I am free to hold any opinion, but A.A.’s purpose —so clearly stated fifty years ago — is for me to keep sober. That purpose has promoted round-the-clock meeting schedules, and the thousands of intergroup and central service offices, with their thousands of volunteers. Like the sun focused through a magnifying glass, A.A.’s single vision has lit a fire of faith in sobriety in millions of hearts, including mine.

END OF QUOTE

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This contribution to the Daily Reflections is about Tradition Ten:  “Alcoholics Anonymous has no opinion on outside issues; hence the A.A. name ought never be drawn into public controversy.”

And we have ceased fighting anything or anyone – even alcohol. For by this time sanity will have returned. We will seldom be interested in liquor. If tempted, we recoil from it as from a hot flame. We react sanely and normally, and we will find that this has happened automatically. We will see that our new attitude toward liquor has been given us without any thought or effort on our part. It just comes! That is the miracle of it. We are not fighting it, neither are we avoiding temptation. We feel as though we had been placed in a position of neutrality – safe and protected. We have not even sworn off. Instead, the problem has been removed. It does not exist for us. We are neither cocky nor are we afraid. That is our experience. That is how we react so long as we keep in fit spiritual condition.   (Alcoholics Anonymous, pages 84-85)

Our step ten work helps us to experience the miracle of neutrality.  Our spiritual fitness allows us to face individual challenges with serenity.  This tradition makes it clear that utilizing and developing that skill within the rooms to protect the group from public controversy is the payback we give to our source of miracles, the AA Fellowship.   I will protect its singular focus of helping the alcoholic recover in gratitude for my own life and sanity.

From the Daily Reflections of October 27;

The only thing that matters is that he is an alcoholic who has found a key to sobriety. These legacies of suffering and of recovery are easily passed among alcoholics, one to the other. This is our gift from God, and its bestowal upon others like us is the one aim that today animates A.A.’s all around the globe.   (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 151)

The strength of Alcoholics Anonymous lies in the desire of each member and of each group around the world to share with other alcoholics their suffering and the steps taken to gain, and maintain, recovery. By keeping a conscious contact with my Higher Power, I make sure that I always nurture my desire to help other alcoholics, thus insuring the continuity of the wonderful fraternity of Alcoholics Anonymous.

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I am apart of the collective consciousness of recovered alcoholics connected to the Infinite One with a singular message to share throughout the Earth.  That turns my humiliating and destructive disease into something rather epic, if I am able to stay connected to Gomu (God of my understanding) and the collective of the AA Fellowship.  I am truly grateful for this reality.

From the Daily Reflections of October 26;

For our group purpose there is but one ultimate authority — a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience.   (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 132)

When I am chosen to carry some small responsibility for my fellows, I ask that God grant me the patience, open-mindedness, and willingness to listen to those I would lead. I must remind myself that I am the trusted servant of others, not their “governor,” “teacher,” or “instructor.” God guides my words and my actions, and my responsibility is to heed His suggestions. Trust is my watchword, I trust others who lead. In the Fellowship of A.A., I entrust God with the ultimate authority of “running the show.”

END OF QUOTE

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My Higher Power, the one I accept as the ultimate guide of my life, must be loving and must manifest in my group connections.  To live sober, I must be a river flowing and not a stagnant pool.  I must have an inlet of life from Gomu (God of my understanding) giving new life and an outlet of the same into my recovery network and beyond.  My source is infinite so I am not drained by giving while connected.

From the Daily Reflections of October 25;

Without unity, the heart of A.A. would cease to beat; . . .   (As Bill Sees It, page 125)

Without unity I would be unable to recover in A.A. on a daily basis. By practicing unity within my group, with other A.A. members and at all levels of this great Fellowship, I receive a pronounced feeling of knowing that I am a part of a miracle that was divinely inspired. The ability of Bill W. and Dr. Bob, working together and passing it on to other members, tells me that to give it away is to keep it. Unity is oneness and yet the whole Fellowship is for all of us.

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I sat and meditated on this contribution to the Daily Reflections, and one question keeps coming to me.  How do I “practice unity?”  I seek humility to enhance group cohesion.  I seek ways to give away what I have been given through service work and by making myself present and available for human connection.

From the Daily Reflections of October 24;

On anvils of experience, the structure of our Society was hammered out. . . . Thus has it been with A.A. By faith and by works we have been able to build upon the lessons of an incredible experience. They live today in the Twelve Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous, which — God willing — shall sustain us in unity for so long as He may need us.   (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 131)

God has allowed me the right to be wrong in order for our Fellowship to exist as it does today. If I place God’s will first in my life, it is very likely that A.A. as I know it today will remain as it is.

END OF QUOTE

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How has AA survived the ego-enhanced human nature of its individual members?  Anvils of experience.  Lessons of an incredible experience.  The individual right to be wrong (and thus learn by experience).   My experience tells me that I am both an energy based entity and an organic based animal living in a mutualistic relationship like the algae and fungus of the lichen.  Faith is the non-organic knowing acquired as an energy entity, known as my spirit.  In AA I develop my intuitive interaction with the Higher Power by developing my spiritual awakening.

“What used to be the hunch or the occasional inspiration gradually becomes a working part of the mind. Being still inexperienced and having just made conscious contact with God, it is not probable that we are going to be inspired at all times. We might pay for this presumption in all sorts of absurd actions and ideas. Nevertheless, we find that our thinking will, as time passes, be more and more on the plane of inspiration. We come to rely upon it.” (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 87).  Nevertheless, I have the right to be wrong in my pursuit of connection with God and the Fellowship.

Faith is my connection to Gomu (God of my undersanding).  By this kind of faith and the works of the very pragmatic morality of the 12 steps, I contribute to the strength of the collective conscious of the Fellowship.  The Fellowship in turn reinforces my sobriety.  Our unity is ever-empowering.

An article came up in my Facebook feed from a sister in recovery.  I stopped and read, and painfully experienced resonance with Katy the Scary Mommy.  I will share this article here, but I do recommend you visit her site.  She is an amazing word-crafter.  Her title is hyperlinked to her site.

Walk of the Not Quite Dead

On a crisp fall day, just like today, where the sun is shining and people are out playing, I sit huddled on a park bench trying to ward off the shakes from alcohol withdrawal and hunger pains.

I watch the families.  I see a mom happy as can be that she has her whole family with her today as they are throwing a ball to their jubilant Golden Retriever and the kids tumble through the grass to see who can get to the ball first.   The dog always wins.  The mom takes out a snack and gives a little to each child along with a juice box.   The dad doesn’t seem to like the mess they’re making, but laughs and shakes his head anyway.

That will never be my life.

This family doesn’t see me.  I mean, they see me, but they don’t SEE me.  I don’t want to be seen.  They try to pretend I’m not there as they go about their lovely Sunday that they’ve been waiting all week to enjoy.  I don’t blame them.  I wouldn’t want to see me either.  I’m an ugly reminder that there are sick, sad people in this world that you try to shield your kids from as you do your best to make them feel safe and protected and that nothing bad will ever happen to them.  I get it.  So I just watch.

I am vulnerable right now, as I am coming off a drunk and my heart and soul and body is sick with regret and remorse and utter hopelessness.

I see a football game happening where the guys are drinking beers and laughing.  I no longer laugh when I drink beer.  I no longer laugh.  I beg borrow steal and do what I need to do to get more money for some cheap vodka and maybe a $1 something at McDonalds as I haven’t eaten anything for about 48 hours.

It’s incredible how resilient my body has become at 110 pounds with no nourishment except for vodka for days on end. I can use a real bathroom in the McDonalds to clean my hands and face if I can focus on stopping the trembling for 5 minutes and keep others, especially little kids, out of there for that long.

I hurt.  My body hurts; it hurts to move.  My soul feels so empty and ugly and sad that I have to get something quick to cover it up.  My heart hurts and I can’t have that.  For if I feel the hurt too long, I might have to do something about it.  End it all?  CHANGE SOMETHING?  No.  No way.  Not now.  So I find a way.

I walk.  I walk and walk and walk.  I am one of those people you see on the street on a beautiful day that can jar you to your core because if you are someone who looks closely you think, “What the hell happened to her?”  I am dirty.  I am not dressed appropriately.  I am acting a bit shady and you’re not sure what I will do when you pass me by.  I am used to the looks and then the averted eyes.   I see life and the living all around me and yet I am distant, apart from, utterly disconnected.

Night falls.  I am in a drunken stupor, most likely blacked out, which means I’m functioning but I will have no memory of it.  I sleep in the park.  I pass out in the park.  Under a tree.  I have no cover, no shield.  I am exposed.  There is no real rest.  It is simply a crash period that my body uses as a defense against me continuing to drink until I kill myself.  I have no defense against my alert self.

Despite my need for rest, I am awake and walking again.  Walking in the middle of the night in a big city and I have no destination.  I walk and walk and walk.  It’s all I can seem to do.  I see people and they see me and some screw with me, but most leave me alone.  I am lucky.   I have no idea how lucky I am.

The sun comes up and I am still walking.  I am walking as if my guts depend on it.  What am I looking for?  A reason.  A reason to stop all this.  I have no hope and until I am given the gift of hope I will keep walking and keep searching and keep drinking.  I am hungry I am angry I am lonely I am tired.  I am coming down off my stupor and I am starting to withdraw again.  The cycle is beginning all over.  The same way it did yesterday and the same way it will tomorrow.  Over and over again until I die or say enough.

That was 12 years ago.

Today I am a mother after struggling with infertility.  I have a phenomenal husband and twin 10 month olds.  I have a job and a safe warm place to live.  We are broke as hell and struggle the way so many people do about how we will pay for things and what our next move will be, but the fact that I even have these decisions and struggles is a gift.  My goal back then was to live through another day.  Or on some days, not to live at all.  And yet, I am still alive.  Son of a lucky bitch.  I am still alive.

Quite similar to the zombie “walkers” on The Walking Dead, I was a transient, physically and more profoundly, spiritually.  I numbed myself as I stumbled through life without feeling anything. That’s no way to live.

I’m not unique or special. Many walkers never get their chance. I just got sick and tired of being sick and tired. I’m a second-chancer as are all the other walkers out there. They just haven’t gotten their chance yet. They aren’t done.  Some never will be. But let’s not write them off so quickly. You just never know who’s out there walking and waiting for their scintilla of hope to spank them in the face. Being kind when it’s uncomfortable might be just what they need right then in that moment. You could be the spark. That still small voice.

You think this can’t happen to you.  But I am you.  I grew up in a loving, safe home.  I lost my way.  I lost hope and belief in myself after doing life for a while and not liking what life was doing to me.  It wasn’t fair and I thought I deserved better.  I drank it all away.  Once hope was lost, I couldn’t get it back.  I didn’t want to get it back.  Hopelessness is that pit of despair that caves in on itself mocking all reason until you finally feel a glimmer by grace and then it hits you that was what you were looking for the entire time.

From the Daily Reflections of October 23;

“Shoemaker, stick to thy last!” . . . better do one thing supremely well than many badly. That is the central theme of this Tradition [Five]. Around it our Society gathers in unity. The very life of our Fellowship requires the preservation of this principle.   (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 150)

The survival of A.A. depends upon unity. What would happen if a group decided to become an employment agency, a treatment center or a social service agency? Too much specialization leads to no specialization, to frittering of efforts and, finally, to decline. I have the qualifications to share my sufferings and my way of recovery with the newcomer. Conformity to A.A.’s primary purpose ensures the safety of the wonderful gift of sobriety, so my responsibility is enormous. The life of millions of alcoholics is closely tied to my competence in “carrying the message to the still-suffering alcoholic.”

END OF QUOTE

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The Fifth Tradition of AA states, “Each group has but one primary purpose—to carry its message to the alcoholic who still suffers.”

For me, there are two implications of this tradition for the individual member of AA.  The first is that the multitude of personal desires and other goals that come with a very active ego must be extinguished within the recovery rooms.  I cannot proselytize for my religion or system of belief within the rooms.  I cannot focus on improving my finances or fulfilling relationship desires.  I cannot bring into the rooms my personal political schemes.  I began to learn this lesson early in my sobriety.  I remember in one meeting, a beautiful young woman came up and sat in the chair next to me.  There were other empty seats.  Her leg touched mine.  I was attracted and she could hardly keep still in her seat.  I interpreted that she was also feeling the energy.  I determined that after the meeting, I would talk to her and if nothing developed, give her my number.  What a great meeting this was going to be.  Then she shared with the group that she really needed a meeting because afterwards she was going to go visit a friend who had been drinking and driving and was in the hospital after  a car accident.  The intoxicated driver’s friend in the passenger seat had been killed and she was going to have to tell him about it.  I was horrified at how inappropriate my self-interest would have been that night.

So, I do not pursue sisters in recovery.  I am open to a relationship if I and the other are fairly free of the duress of the addiction and have found a way of emotional-spiritual stability and growth.  For me now, going after females who have just entered the room is akin to recovery rape.  The girl is not capable of giving clear-headed consent to interaction.    This goes the other way as well.  Women who go after new males in recovery are threatening their lives.  This is the primary area of self-interest I sacrifice in the rooms.  There are others.

The second implication for me as an individual member is that it is expected and needed for my sobriety to always hold top place in my list of personal priorities in my day to day living.  Words alone will not provide a saving message to other alcoholics or addicts.  They must be reinforced by example in order to have the needed substance to truly share experience, strength, and hope.

Art Credit:  Demon of Lust by KJ Kallio

From the Daily Reflections of October 22;

Finally, we begin to see that all people, including ourselves, are to some extent emotionally ill as well as frequently wrong, and then we approach true tolerance and see what real love for our fellows actually means.   (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 92)

The thought occurred to me that all people are emotionally ill to some extent. How could we not be? Who among us is spiritually perfect? Who among us is physically perfect? How could any of us be emotionally perfect? Therefore, what else are we to do but bear with one another and treat each other as we would be treated in similar circumstances? That is what love really is.

END OF QUOTE

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For me, the worst thing about death of some one loved is the dismissal of significance.  When my mother died in 2006, the significance of who she is was relinquished to the vault of memory.  I found it unbearable to take during a time when my faith in anything beyond organic life was gone.  In the funeral procession, I was crushed by the weight of loss of this important connection in my life.  Then I saw that a man driving a log truck had pulled over to the side of the road, and I looked to see that he had dismounted his vehicle and stood outside with his hat off and hand over his heart.  His face is forever burned in my mind.  He gave to me what no religion could. His respect transferred dignity to my mother.

Real love is the assertion of the significance of life.  Dignity is what we do to embrace our own lives.  Respect is what we do to give significance to others.  Love is connection which enables the growing vulnerable of intimacy.  Love is the strength of heart to interact; it is courage.  It is the opposite of apathy.  Tolerance as expressed here is not the absence of revulsion.  It is the very active search and investment in the value of one another.

What if this universal illness that makes us frequently wrong is something the Infinite One created to be overcome?  What if perfection is the way of Angels, but not the way of God?  What if God is both infinite order and infinite chaos?  What if God conspires to have a race of beings who can embrace the universal order, as do the angels (if you believe such), and the universal chaos?  What if our treatment of one another is a demonstration of our spiritual romance with Gomu?   What if God never wanted a perfect people, but instead hungered for ones who knew what it meant to overcome imperfections of all sorts?

Regardless of the what ifs, we are all in this together and are more powerful together than a part.  The closer we are to one another, the closer we are to the center of the circle.

From the Daily Reflections of October 21;

We will want the good that is in us all, even in the worst of us, to flower and to grow.   (As Bill Sees It, page 10)

With the self-discipline and insight gained from practicing Step Ten, I begin to know the gratifications of sobriety — not as mere abstinence from alcohol, but as recovery in every department of my life.

I renew hope, regenerate faith, and regain the dignity of self-respect. I discover the word “and” in the phrase “and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.”

Reassured that I am no longer always wrong, I learn to accept myself as I am, with a new sense of the miracles of sobriety and serenity.

END OF QUOTE

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LOTR:  Light of Earendil

When darkness represents the various forms of self-deception, then it is a true statement for me that nothing grows in the dark.  Sanity is challenged in that kind of darkness.  Emotional stability is an unobtainable goal in that kind of darkness.  The discipline of a frequent, even daily, moral inventory thus represents a light in dark places.  In this kind of light I grow in spiritual strength, moral courage, the sanity of knowing the truth about myself, and the serenity of emotional stability becomes a progressively regular way of life.

From the Daily Reflections of October 20;

Obviously, the dilemma of the wanderer from faith is that of profound confusion. He thinks himself lost to the comfort of any conviction at all. He cannot attain in even a small degree the assurance of the believer, the agnostic, or the atheist. He is the bewildered one.   (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, page 28)

The concept of God was one that I struggled with during my early years of sobriety. The images that came to me, conjured from my past, were heavy with fear, rejection and condemnation. Then I heard my friend Ed’s image of a Higher Power: As a boy he had been allowed a litter of puppies, provided that he assume responsibility for their care. Each morning he would find the unavoidable “byproducts”of the puppies on the kitchen floor. Despite frustration, Ed said he couldn’t get angry because”that’s the nature of puppies.” Ed felt that God viewed our defects and shortcomings with a similar understanding and warmth. I’ve often found solace from my personal confusion in Ed’s calming concept of God.

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My loss of faith opened the door to my alcoholism.  In my post-marital apocalypse that ensued after 2003, I no longer believed there was anything beyond death.  It was a sickening epiphany to live out.  As the character Graham Hess in the movie Signs said, “deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they’re on their own. And that fills them with fear.”  That was my lot.  I felt ashamed that I had trustingly brought two beautiful children into a world that would eventually exterminate them.  My self-awareness only tormented me and all loving relationships were tragedies waiting to happen.  Neither agnosticism nor atheism provided comfort or guidance.  I found it as foolish as religion.  I wished that my state of mind could simply have been described as confusion.  Everyday was a replay of the same horror.  I was so grateful for the oblivion of alcohol.

I was sent to rehab and confronted with the prospect that I either reconnect with a Higher Power or I die tragically.  I am amazed that the program was able to escort me out of that black hole universe and restore to me a faith that is so much more real and effective.  And I am grateful for it.

Artwork:  Wanderer above the Sea of Fog