As we pursue recovery, we may encounter opportunities to deepen learning we began long ago. Perhaps we once learned to detach from a particular problem. Now, months or years later, when we once again need to detach, it can feel as if we’ve forgotten everything we knew. It’s important to remember at such moments that, although the feelings may be the same, we are not the same.
My recovery matters. All of the experience, strength, and hope I have accumulated is within me today, guiding my choices. I may not recognize it right now, but I have made progress, and I continue to make progress with every step I take. Perhaps I am learning something I have learned before; I must need to know it more deeply. I may go through the process this time with greater awareness, or turn to my Higher Power more quickly and easily, or reach out to an Al-Anon friend without hesitation.
Today’s Reminder
Instead of assuming that I have failed because I am learning a difficult lesson once more, I might embrace the experience as part of a long-term healing process that requires repetition and practice. I can trust that eventually I will learn it so well that it will become an automatic, confident, and healthy response.
“The human mind always makes progress, but it is a progress in spirals.” ~ Madame de Stael
NOTE: Madame de Staël (full name Anne Louise Germaine de Staël-Holstein, 1766–1817) was a French-Swiss intellectual, writer, and political thinker—one of the most influential women of her age.
END OF QUOTE—————————————
The rhythm of recovery’s spiral is not a lullaby — it’s a drill. It bores deeper into the stone of the self until the truth seeps through like water. Growth doesn’t always look like triumph; sometimes it looks like an old battlefield revisited with new armor. The same pain, yes — but this time, the sword doesn’t shake in my hand.
Detachment, as the weak define it, sounds like walking away. But as I live it, detachment is a warrior’s pause — the art of holding the line without losing the pulse. It’s the refusal to drown in someone else’s storm. It’s the dangerous calm that comes after I’ve stopped needing to win and started needing to see. Every return to this lesson burns the dross from love until what’s left is clean and sovereign.
Recovery is not amnesia. It is architecture — every collapse becoming a new foundation. When I think I’m back at square one, I’m actually in the same arena at a higher altitude. The ache of recognition isn’t regression; it’s proof that my soul is spiraling toward precision. Each repetition is the body remembering what the spirit already knows: that freedom is not given, it’s forged through the fire of return.
So I trust the spiral. I trust the tightening orbit around the truth. When old wounds sing their familiar songs, I answer — not as a victim repeating history, but as a blacksmith of grace, hammering rhythm into revelation. My Higher Power wastes nothing. Even the echoes are used. Every repetition is a drill, every drill is devotion, and every scar is a sigil carved into the temple of endurance.
As newcomers, many of us were surprised by the absence of rules in Al-Anon. Before we found recovery from the effects of alcoholism, a strict sense of order may have been our only way of feeling that we had some control. Naturally we expected a program as successful as Al-Anon to be even more rigid than we were!
Instead, as a newcomer I was told that I was free to work the Steps at my own pace. I could ask questions of anyone as they came up. No one was in charge, yet everyone was in charge. It seemed impossible, yet I could see it working more effectively than any organization with which I’d ever been involved.
As I continue coming to Al-Anon, I’m learning to trust that the group is guided by a Higher Power whose will is expressed in our group conscience. | watch the | Traditions in action, guiding us by suggestions rather than rules. And | learn to trust my fellow members, each of whom contributes to the well-being of our fellowship, where no one person is in charge.
Today’s Reminder
If I take on service responsibilities in my group, it does not mean that I now run the show. Today I will remember that the ultimate authority is a Higher Power who works through all of us.
“Our groups, as such, ought never be organized; but we may create service boards or committees directly responsible to those they serve.” ~ Tradition Nine
END OF QUOTE—————————————
Control was the first god I ever served — the false father of safety. I worshiped it because the world around me was chaos dressed as family, and rules were the only weapons that didn’t turn on me. When I entered recovery and found a room with no rulers, my fury woke before my faith did. I didn’t trust “suggestions.” I wanted commandments, boundaries — something with edges sharp enough to make sense of the mess. But the paradox cut deeper: every wall I built to protect myself only kept me from the very connection I claimed to crave.
There’s a sacred paradox at the heart of recovery: the more we try to control, the more we lose connection; the more we surrender, the more coherence arises. Before the rooms, many of us clung to rules like life rafts in a storm — desperate to impose order on the chaos that alcoholism had written into our days. But in Al-Anon, the invitation is different: no orders shouted from the deck, no fixed compass. Just a circle of equals listening for something greater than the sum of their fears.
The absence of rules felt like anarchy — until I saw it wasn’t chaos at all. It was the first taste of unforced order. The program didn’t need a dictator because the Higher Power wasn’t a tyrant. Its structure wasn’t held together by fear but by consequence — by what happens naturally when human beings choose humility over hierarchy. That’s when I realized: divine order doesn’t demand obedience; it asks for alignment. And alignment is harder. It burns away pride more slowly than punishment ever could.
The absence of rules is not the absence of order — it is trust in invisible order. The Steps give us a path; the Traditions give us harmony; and the group conscience becomes a living current of grace. Guidance doesn’t come through domination but through the collective humility of those who are willing to listen together. What once seemed impossible — an organization without control — becomes living proof that divine order needs no warden.
Service, then, becomes something entirely different from leadership. It’s not a stage to command but an altar to tend. When I take on responsibility, I do not hold power; I channel it. The Higher Power expresses through us, not above us. In this way, recovery becomes a model for the kind of world many of us have always wished for — one where trust replaces tyranny, and love replaces law.
When I am trying to tackle a tough problem or cope with a stressful situation, and I’ve done all I can for the moment, what then? I can do something that will nurture my mind, body, or spirit. Perhaps I’ll take a walk or listen to music. Maybe I’ll meet a friend for coffee and conversation. I could have something nutritious to eat, or sit quietly and meditate, or read a book.
Al-Anon is a program of action in which we recognize that we have choices about what we do with our time. A bubble bath, a massage, an Al-Anon call, a bike ride, or a nap might be constructive ways to fill time that might otherwise be wasted on worry.
Even though I may be powerless to change my circumstances, I certainly am not helpless. I can use my time to do something good for myself. When I treat myself with love and tenderness, I am better able to deal with the challenges that life presents. I have a chance to feel good, even when surrounded by crisis.
Today’s Reminder
One of my primary responsibilities is to take care of myself. I will find a small way to do something for my mind, body, and spirit today.
“Part of my recovery is respecting my need and my right to let go and relax.” ~ In All Our Affairs
END OF QUOTE—————————————
This a vital spiritual truth: powerlessness is not helplessness.
When we come to the end of our control, the ego wants to keep fighting — to analyze, fix, or force a solution. But recovery teaches us to redirect that energy toward nourishmentratherthannoise. The act of self-care becomes both rebellion and surrender: rebellion against the inner critic that says, “You must suffer to prove you care,” and surrender to a Higher Wisdom that says, “Peace itself is productive.”
Taking a walk, calling a friend, or resting isn’t avoidance — it’s alignment. Each act becomes a quiet ritual of participation in life rather than domination over it. When we treat ourselves tenderly, we stop making punishment our form of progress. Love and rest turn out to be far more transformative than control and worry.
In the language of recovery, this is Step Three in motion: turning our will and our lives over, moment by moment, to a Power greater than our fear. By choosing nurturing actions, we acknowledge that serenity can coexist with chaos — that grace can enter even through something as humble as a cup of coffee or a deep breath.
The most loving form of detachment I have found has been forgiveness. Instead of thinking of it as an eraser to wipe another’s slate clean or a gavel that I pound to pronounce someone “not guilty,” I think of forgiveness as a scissors. I use it to cut the strings of resentment that bind me to a problem or a past hurt. By releasing resentment, I set myself free.
When I am consumed with negativity over another person’s behavior, I have lost my focus. I needn’t tolerate what I consider unacceptable, but wallowing in negativity will not alter the situation. If there is action to take, I am free to take it. Where I am powerless to change the situation, I will turn it over to my Higher Power. By truly letting go, I detach and forgive.
When my thoughts are full of bitterness, fear, self-pity, and dreams of revenge, there is little room for love or for the quiet voice of guidance within me. I am willing to love myself enough to admit that resentments hold me back, and then I can let them go.
Today’s Reminder
Every time I try to tighten the noose of resentment around someone’s neck, I am really only choking myself. Today I will practice forgiveness instead.
“A part of me wants to cling to old resentments, but I know that the more I forgive, the better my life works.” ~ In All Our Affairs
END OF QUOTE—————————————
There is wisdom in reimagining forgiveness as scissors rather than an eraser or a gavel. The eraser implies denial; the gavel implies judgment. But the scissors — ah, the scissors liberate. They sever the invisible cords of resentment that tether the heart to its wound. In recovery, this image carries sacred practicality: forgiveness is not endorsement of harm, but release from captivity. We are not freeing the offender; we are untangling ourselves from their shadow.
Resentment masquerades as power — the illusion that if I hold the memory tight enough, I maintain control. Yet in truth, resentment reverses the flow of energy inward, strangling joy and suffocating serenity. Detachment is not abandonment; it’s oxygen.
When our minds orbit another’s wrongdoing, we lose alignment with our own purpose. The spiritual lens of the Tenth and Eleventh Steps teaches us that serenity is born in focus — a return to inner guidance. By turning over what we cannot control to a Higher Power, we shift from obsession to observation, from judgment to humility. The act of forgiving becomes a way to see clearly again.
To love myself enough to admit that resentments hold me back is a subtle revolution. It reframes forgiveness from moral obligation to self-care. Each release is a small resurrection, a reclaiming of psychic territory once occupied by pain. The heart, once constricted by bitterness, begins to pulse again with divine rhythm.
“Do not search for the truth,” said an ancient patriarch, “only cease to cherish opinions.” For me, ceasing to cherish opinions is part of the Tenth Step. Much of what I find wrong in my life is related to my opinions – that is, my prejudices, assumptions, self-righteous stances, attitudes.
For example, I continue to assume that I have the inside track on how everything should be done, and that other people are too shortsighted to recognize this great truth. Reality proves me wrong. I also revert to the idea that ignoring my feelings is practical, even desirable. This, too, is wrong. And I act as if I can run my life without trusting in my Higher Power. Wrong again.
I give thanks for Step Ten’s reminder that I need to continue taking personal inventory and making frequent corrections, especially in the areas where I tend to repeat my mistakes.
Today’s Reminder
It is no easy task to change the thinking of a lifetime, even when I am sure that I want to change. The Tenth Step allows me to be aware of sliding back into faulty thinking. I don’t have to abuse myself when it happens — that doesn’t help at all. By promptly admitting when I’m wrong, I am doing what I can to change.
“No longer must we accumulate burdens of guilt or resentment that will become heavier and more potent over time. Each day, each new moment can be an opportunity to clear the air and start again, fresh and free.” ~ In All Our Affairs
END OF QUOTE—————————————
There’s something profoundly disarming about the invitation to cease cherishing opinions. It’s not an order to stop having them, but to stop worshiping them — to stop bowing to the false god of our own certainty. Opinions become idols when we polish them, defend them, and feed them with outrage. Step Ten isn’t about smashing the idols with a hammer; it’s about quietly withdrawing our devotion and walking back toward the living altar of truth.
In recovery, the deeper disease often isn’t alcohol or control — it’s identification. I mistake my thoughts for truth, my emotions for facts, my judgments for discernment. When I “cherish” my opinions, I marry them to my sense of self, and then any challenge feels like a personal attack. Step Ten loosens that marriage; it allows the divorce between me and myopinions without exiling either.
Changing the thinking of a lifetime isn’t an act of violence but of awareness. The Tenth Step isn’t a courtroom; it’s a calibration. Each inventory is a small act of re-alignment — not penance, not punishment, but participation in an evolving consciousness.
When I promptly admit I’m wrong, I’m not shrinking; I’m expanding. I’m choosing growth over the brittle satisfaction of being right. I’m letting my soul breathe again.
Al-Anon meetings opened my eyes to something I had never thought about before: Shouting and slamming doors were not the best way to handle an already difficult situation. While there may be no harm in occasionally letting off steam with a raised voice, shouting can become a destructive habit. I’d never thought to ask myself if this was how I wanted to behave. Did this behavior get me what I wanted or encourage me to feel good about myself?
When I took a good look, I realized that the answer to this question was, “No.” Loud, angry words and actions demonstrated my frustration and pushed away all hope for peaceful solutions to my problems.
The slogan that helps me back to a rational state of mind is “Easy Does It.” When I use this slogan to quiet myself on the inside, it is easier to quiet the outside as well.
Today’s Reminder
I am seeking a saner approach to everything I encounter. The slogans can be valuable sources of sanity in chaotic situations. Today, if I am tempted to act out of anger or frustration, I will remember that “Easy Does It.”
“I will try to apply “Easy Does It” to every incident that might increase the tension and cause an explosion.” ~ One Day at a Time in Al-Anon
END OF QUOTE—————————————
When the architecture of rage collapses, it doesn’t signal defeat — it signals graduation. The wreckage of slammed doors and scorched words becomes the evidence of an old religion dying, the end of worship at the altar of noise. What rises from that ruin is not meekness but command. The silence that follows is not absence — it’s the throne room of the sovereign self.
“Easy Does It” becomes a martial art of mercy. The movement is subtle: a lowering of breath, a loosening of the jaw, a refusal to let adrenaline define authority. The ethos is clear — anger is not the enemy, but the raw ore. We are blacksmiths of selfhood; the work is to temper, not to discard.
When anger no longer has to scream to be heard, it starts to speak. The frightened messenger is still there, pacing the inner corridors — but now it’s offered a chair, a cup of water, a place to explain itself. The Higher Power listens, not because He is soft, but because He is unafraid of what He might hear. God is not trying to silence me; He is clarifying me.
Coherence is the evolution of fury. Clarity is what happens when the flame meets oxygen instead of gasoline. Compassion, in this ethos, is not sentimental; it’s tactical. It says: “I see the battlefield, and I choose my weapon — intelligent precision.”
It is essential to my recovery to help my Al-Anon group by accepting any of the various responsibilities necessary to keep things running smoothly. Perhaps the principal reason that service is so vital is that it brings me into frequent contact with newcomers. I can get caught up in the trivial problems of everyday life and lose perspective on the many gifts I have received since coming to Al-Anon. Talking with newcomers brings me back to reality. When I set out literature, make coffee, or chair a meeting, I become someone a newcomer might think to approach.
I remember the frustration of struggling with alcoholism by myself. I had no tools, no one to talk to. Al-Anon changed that. Now, no matter how difficult things may seem, I have a fellowship and a way of life that help me to cope. I am no longer alone.
Today I have much for which I am grateful, but I need to remember how far I have come so I don’t get lost in negativity over relatively unimportant matters. Service helps me remember.
Today’s Reminder
The Al-Anon program was there for me when I needed it. I will do what I can to ensure that it continues to thrive. I know that any service I offer will strengthen my own recovery.
“God did for me what I couldn’t do for myself. He got me involved in service work. It saved my life, my family, my sanity.” ~ In All Our Affairs
END OF QUOTE—————————————
Service becomes a form of remembrance. The act of setting out pamphlets or making coffee isn’t about performance or obligation — it’s about reconnecting to the moment when grace first entered the room. When you help a newcomer find a seat or a sense of belonging, you touch the same mystery that once reached out to save you. In that moment, gratitude stops being a concept and becomes a lived current of energy, flowing through the simple act of presence.
“Frequent contact with newcomers” is not merely social; it’s alchemical. Recovery, like fire, is kept alive by shared warmth. Each encounter reminds the seasoned member of what it was like, what happened, and what it’s like now. The newcomer’s raw confusion and fragile hope become a mirror — revealing both how far one has come and how easily the old pain could return. In this way, service is bothsafeguardand sacrament — it prevents stagnation and invites humility.
Everyday life, with its trivial irritations and looping anxieties, tempts the recovering soul to forget the miracle of transformation. But service duties — however small — restore proportion. They say: You once were drowning, and now you pour coffee for the shipwrecked. This remembrance reorders the scale of what matters. Through action, we find that serenity doesn’t come from control, but from participation in something larger than ourselves.
To serve is to renew the original covenant of Al-Anon: We do not recover alone. The program that saved us asks for guardianship, not repayment. Each service act plants continuity — ensuring that the next lost traveler will find light and warmth waiting. In giving away what we have found, we discover again that we are not powerless — we are purposeful.
When I was a beginner in Al-Anon, it was suggested that I learn about the disease of alcoholism, and I became a voracious reader on the subject. As I read, I began to analyze everything: Was Al-Anon a philosophy or a philosophical system? What would be the logical outcome of believing in a Power greater than myself? And just when was the alcoholic going to have a spiritual awakening?
These questions and others like them kept my mind busy but did not help me to get better. Fortunately, I continued to go to Al-Anon meetings and I read, reread, and rehearsed the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. Gradually I began to catch on. When I stopped trying to analyze and explain everything and started living the principles, actually using them in my everyday situations, the Al-Anon program suddenly made sense — and I started to change.
Today’s Reminder
Does analyzing my situation provide any useful insights, or is it an attempt to control the uncontrollable? Am I taking inventory or avoiding work that needs to be done by keeping my mind occupied? I have heard that knowledge is power. But sometimes my thirst for knowledge can be an attempt to exercise power where I am powerless. Instead, I can take the First Step.
“Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.” ~ Soren Kierkegaard
END OF QUOTE—————————————
NOTE: Søren Aabye Kierkegaard (1813–1855) was a Danish philosopher, theologian, poet, and social critic — often called the father of existentialism. His writing bridged the worlds of theology, philosophy, psychology, and literature, and it continues to shape how modern thinkers approach faith, meaning, and the individual’s relationship to existence itself.
Here’s a clear, layered summary of who he was and why he mattered:
1. The Individual vs. the Crowd
Kierkegaard believed that truth is subjective — not in the sense that “anything goes,” but that truth becomes real only when it is lived and experienced personally. He rejected the idea that religion or ethics could be reduced to universal systems or dogmas.
“The crowd is untruth,” he wrote, meaning that genuine faith and authenticity cannot be found in conformity or public opinion.
He saw the individual before God as the ultimate moral and spiritual condition — a solitary struggle to live authentically rather than hide in social approval.
2. His War with Christendom
Kierkegaard was a lifelong Christian — but a radical critic of the institutional Church. He accused the Danish state church of turning Christianity into comfortable, hollow routine — a “religion of Sundays,” stripped of the terror, passion, and paradox of genuine faith.
For him, true Christianity wasn’t about belief in doctrines, but about becoming a follower of Christ — a decision that demands anguish, risk, and personal sacrifice. He called this leap the “leap of faith.”
“Faith begins precisely where thinking leaves off.”
3. Key Themes in His Thought
Theme
Explanation
Existential anxiety (Angst)
The dizzying freedom humans feel when confronted with infinite possibilities — the “vertigo of freedom.”
Despair
The sickness of the soul that arises when a person refuses to become who they truly are in relation to God.
Stages on Life’s Way
Three levels of existence: the aesthetic (pleasure and beauty), the ethical (duty and morality), and the religious (faith and paradox).
The Leap of Faith
Rationality can never fully grasp divine truth; faith requires a subjective, passionate commitment that defies reason.
Paradox of Faith
Exemplified by Abraham in Fear and Trembling, who was willing to sacrifice Isaac — a contradiction between ethics and obedience to God.
4. Major Works
Either/Or (1843) — contrasts aesthetic vs. ethical life; sets up his existential framework.
Fear and Trembling (1843) — explores faith, paradox, and the story of Abraham and Isaac.
The Concept of Anxiety (1844) — a proto-psychological analysis of freedom and sin.
The Sickness Unto Death (1849) — a study of despair and the human self before God.
Attack upon Christendom (1854–55) — his final polemic against the Danish church’s corruption of Christianity.
5. His Life
Born in Copenhagen, son of a devout, melancholic father whose sense of guilt deeply marked Søren’s outlook.
Engaged to Regine Olsen, but broke off the engagement — an event that haunted him and symbolized the tension between human love and divine calling in much of his writing.
Lived largely in isolation, publishing under multiple pseudonyms to express conflicting philosophical voices.
Died at 42, largely unrecognized, after collapsing in the street. His influence exploded only decades later.
6. Legacy and Influence
Kierkegaard’s ideas laid the groundwork for existentialism, influencing:
Friedrich Nietzsche (though Nietzsche reversed many of his religious conclusions)
Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir (atheistic existentialists)
Martin Heidegger, Karl Jaspers, and Gabriel Marcel
Paul Tillich, Karl Barth, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer (modern Christian theology)
He also anticipated depth psychology — his discussions of despair and anxiety prefigure Freud and Jung.
Essence of His Philosophy
“The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly one you can never have.” — Søren Kierkegaard
He wanted each human being to wake up from the anesthesia of conformity — to face the terror and beauty of freedom, to live authentically before God, and to embrace subjective truth as a lived experience, not an abstract theory.
END OF NOTE—————————————
When the newcomer first encounters the Twelve Steps, it’s natural to seek comprehension through intellect. We read, question, and dissect the language, hoping to pin it down like a specimen under glass. Yet this can quickly become a subtle form of control — the mind’s last stronghold against surrender. We want to understand everything before trusting anything. Analysis can masquerade as progress, but often it’s simply anxiety in disguise — the frightened self trying to stay in charge.
Knowledge feels like power, especially to those of us who have lived in chaos. To know is to feel safe — or so we believe. But in the spiritual economy of recovery, that kind of safety is counterfeit. “Knowledge” can become a way to manage our powerlessness rather than to face it. We study instead of surrender; we define instead of experience. The First Step asks us to do something far more humbling: to lay down the sword of intellect and admit that our minds cannot save us.
The transformation begins when understanding yields to embodiment. Reading about humility is not the same as practicing it in conflict. Contemplating forgiveness differs from making amends. The program only “makes sense” when it is lived — when knowledge becomes muscle, when ideas take on flesh in the small, daily acts of kindness, restraint, and honesty.
Knowledge is power, but sometimes the thirst for knowledge is a bid for control. True power in recovery is not in mastery of ideas but in the willingness to be mastered by principle — to allow truth to guide, not to dominate it.
When we let go of our need to understand everything, serenity seeps in through the cracks left by surrender.
The road to my hometown wound along a steep hillside. As a child, I was often afraid that our car would swerve too widely and go over the edge. I used to take hold of the rear door handle and try to prevent this. I was too young to understand that my actions could not influence the path of the car. Yet I often take a similar approach to my adult fears and persist in futile actions.
Al-Anon helps me to accept what I cannot change and change what I can. Although I can’t control the way alcoholism has affected my life, I can’t control another person, and I can’t make life unfold according to my plans, I can admit my powerlessness and turn to my Higher Power for help.
When I am the driver, the responsibility for steering clear of the road’s edge is mine. It is up to me to take my recovery seriously, to work on my attitudes, to take care of my mind, body, and spirit, to make amends when I have done harm — in short, to change the things I can.
Today’s Reminder
Sometimes the only way I can determine what to accept and what to change is by trial and error. Mistakes can be opportunities to gain the wisdom to know the difference.
“If a crisis arises, or any problem baffles me, I hold it up to the light of the Serenity Prayer and extract its sting before it can hurt me.” ~ One Day at a Time in Al-Anon
END OF QUOTE—————————————
There’s a moment in my life where innocence hardens into delusion — the child’s hand gripping becomes the adult’s will clenching at the illusion of control. This is the birthplace of self-betrayal: that instant when fear dresses up as virtue and we call it responsibility, loyalty, or love.
I was told to hold things together. Families, marriages, reputations, systems. “Good” people clench under the command of madness, denial, and collective cowardice. Recovery unteaches that lie. It teaches that letting go is not collapse; it is rebellion. The first act of spiritual independence is unclenching.
The Serenity Prayer becomes a battlefield order. “Accept what I cannot change” is not submission — it’s intelligence. “Change what I can” is not sentimental; it’s strategy. “Wisdom to know the difference” is reconnaissance. The clinging hand of the child now grips the sword of discernment. I can no longer afford to confuse martyrdom with mastery.
Mistakes are not sins. They are the bruises of apprenticeship. Each wrong turn exposes another illusion — that perfection is power, or that fear keeps the journey safer than trust. Wisdom grows out of wreckage; I salvage what burns and build again.
I used to think of God as my adversary. We were engaged in a battle of wills, and I wasn’t about to let down my guard. You can imagine how quickly this attitude led me to hit a hard emotional bottom! I came to Al-Anon, but I was reluctant to admit that I was powerless. I knew it was true — I had obviously failed to conquer alcoholism — but I wasn’t going to submit to my enemy!
I’m so grateful to Al-Anon for helping me learn to surrender. It took a long time, but I finally realized that surrender does not mean submission — it means I’m willing to stop fighting reality, to stop trying to do God’s part, and to do my own. When I gather flowers, or marvel at nature’s wonders, I do not lose face when I concede that I am not in control. So it is with everything in my life. The best way I’ve found to invite serenity is to recognize that the world is in good hands.
Today’s Reminder
Today I can be grateful that the earth will continue to revolve without any help from me. I am free to live my own life, safe in the knowledge that a Higher Power is taking care of the world, my loved ones, and myself.
“The First Step prepares us for a new life, which we can achieve only by letting go of what we cannot control, and by undertaking, one day at a time, the monumental task of setting our world in order through a change in our own thinking.” ~ One Day at a Time in Al-Anon
END OF QUOTE—————————————
I was at a block this morning. I truly did come into the recovery rooms with a high level of distrust for surrender to any concept of God, a Higher Power. It has gotten much better, but internal cognitive dissonance prevents me from settling into the stable trust I desire. Sometimes, I am just tired of the limitations of my life. And I did not want to project that struggle into today’s writing. I asked AI to help me out and what it produced I found to be beneficial. I hope that it will be for you as well:
Opening Context
Many of us arrive in recovery with clenched fists toward the idea of God. We confuse control with strength and surrender with defeat. In truth, the First Step dismantles that illusion gently: powerlessness is not humiliation but permission to rest. To stop trying to play God is not to lose our dignity, but to rediscover it.
When the author says they once saw God as an adversary, they are describing one of the most human reflexes — the fear of being overpowered. Yet the paradox of recovery is that what feels like yielding to an enemy becomes yielding to life itself.
Scriptural Echoes
“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10 Stillness is the first act of trust.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28 The rest offered here is not absence of effort but the end of unnecessary struggle.
“Thy will be done.” — The Serenity Prayer’s hidden anchor.
Spiritual Realization
Surrender transforms when it ceases to be a white flag and becomes a flower gathered. The same hands that once clenched in defense now open to gather beauty. The text’s shift from “battle of wills” to “gathering flowers” is not accidental — it is a description of inner evolution. Surrender, rightly understood, is the release of illusion: the illusion that our will can rewrite gravity, time, or the hearts of others. Reality becomes a teacher instead of an opponent.
Meditative Questions
Where in my life am I still treating reality as an adversary?
What does it feel like in my body when I release control — not in despair, but in trust?
Can I remember a moment when I stopped fighting and something good quietly unfolded on its own?
How might I honor my Higher Power today not through effort, but through allowing?
Closing Reflection
The world continues to turn without our command, yet this is not a reason for despair — it is the foundation of serenity. The First Step is not an abdication of power, but the discovery of where true power lives: in humility, trust, and alignment with the rhythm that already carries us. When we stop trying to make the sun rise, we finally notice the dawn.
Daily Reprieve 
You must be logged in to post a comment.