Archive for Courage to Change

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Endigar 933

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 3, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 24:

A farmer found a magical flute. Hoping to charm his hens into laying extra eggs, he played the flute to them all day, but at nightfall he had no more eggs than usual. Later, when asked if he’d had any success, the farmer replied, “I sure did. It wasn’t much of a day for egg-laying, but it was a great day for music!”

In Al-Anon, as in this fable, we learn that success and failure are a matter of perspective. Before coming to Al-Anon, many of us had known great disappointment because we couldn’t cure alcoholism in someone we loved. In time, we began to doubt our ability to take any effective action. We didn’t realize that we achieve many successes every day.

Our program helps us to recognize how much we have accomplished simply by being willing to walk through the doors of an Al-Anon meeting to ask for help. In spite of difficult circumstances, we now have the opportunity to change long-held behavior and beliefs. That is a great achievement.

Today’s Reminder

The finest gift I can give to ensure my continued recovery is willingness. Each demonstration of willingness, each meeting attended, each Al-Anon tool used, is a mark of my success.

“Every good thought you think is contributing its share of the ultimate result of your life”

~ Greenville Kleiser

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There’s something tender and freeing about the farmer’s flute—his shift from expectation to appreciation. He set out hoping for eggs and got music instead. That would have felt like failure to the old me: results-driven, desperate to fix, tangled in the illusion that I could force growth, healing, or peace in someone else.

But recovery has taught me a new kind of listening. I hear the music now, even when the eggs don’t come. I show up to meetings not because I know what I’ll get, but because I’m willing to be surprised by grace. That willingness—that simple openness—is a seed of real change. And sometimes, it takes the shape of laughter, insight, rest, or just the quiet comfort of not being alone.

Walking through the door the first time wasn’t small. It was sacred. It was me choosing to respond to pain rather than collapse into it. That choice is a success. Every tool I pick up, every new behavior I try, even every failure I sit with instead of run from—these are my contributions to the life I’m building.

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Endigar 932

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 2, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 23:

The courage to be honest with ourselves is one quality we can cultivate to help our spiritual growth. It takes a commitment to honesty to admit that someone we love has a drinking problem, that alcoholism and many other things are beyond our control, that there is a source of help greater than ourselves, and that we need the care of that Higher Power.

Honesty allows us to look at ourselves, to share our discoveries with God and others, to admit that we need spiritual help in moving forward, and to free ourselves by making amends for past wrongs.

We need to be truthful with ourselves as we continue to review our attitudes and actions each day. This allows us to be humble enough to reach out to others as equals, and to continue to grow in every area of our lives. Where do we find the courage to be so honest with ourselves? The courage to change the things we can is found in our continuously-developing relationship with a Power greater than ourselves.

Today’s Reminder

I know that honesty is an essential part of the Twelve Steps. I am willing to be more honest with myself today.

“Where is there dignity unless there is honesty?” ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I feel the quiet, persistent tug of recovery calling me back—not to perfection, but to truth. Not the glamorous kind, not the kind that wins applause or brings immediate peace. The kind of truth that stings a little when I speak it. The kind that demands I put aside my pride, my polished story, and look at what is, not just what I wish were true.

Honesty in recovery isn’t just about admitting someone else has a problem—it’s about facing where I still struggle, even now. It’s about telling the truth that maybe I’m scared, or tired, or resentful. That sometimes I still want to control the uncontrollable, and that I forget—again—that there’s a Power greater than me whose care is always available.

But when I am honest, something shifts. A weight lifts. There’s a dignity in standing bare before that Higher Power and saying, “Here I am. This is what I’ve got today.” Whether that’s strength or shame, hope or heavy grief—it’s all welcome in that sacred space.

This honesty frees me to keep growing. It opens the door to humility, and with that, real connection—where I can meet others not from a place of superiority or shame, but shoulder to shoulder. And I remember that honesty is not a once-and-done declaration. It’s a practice. A willingness. A daily return.

So today, I say yes again. Yes, to truth. Yes, to courage. Yes, to a Power greater than myself, who teaches me that even when I feel weak, this willingness to be honest is, in fact, my greatest strength.

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Endigar 931

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 1, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 22:

My sharing at early Al-Anon meetings went something like this: “She makes me so mad,” and “I’m a nervous wreck because of him.” Thank God for a Sponsor who always brought the focus back to me and encouraged me to look at what my words really said. When I blamed others for how I felt, I was giving them power over my feelings, power that rightly belonged to me. Nobody can make me feel anything without my consent. I had a lot of attitude-changing to do.

Today, by being aware of the words I use, I am learning a more straight forward manner, but I also argue in a healthier way. There are better ways to express myself than to say, “You did such and such to me.” I can talk about myself and my feelings. I can explain the way I experienced something rather than telling the other person how he or she made me feel. I can talk about what I want. I am no longer a victim.

Today’s Reminder

What do my words communicate? Do they express what I am trying to say? Today I will listen more closely to what my words have to say.

“We learn in time that it is not subjects which are controversial, but the manner in which we communicate about them and the elements of personal blame we add to them in anger.” ~ The Dilemma of the Alcoholic Marriage

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I didn’t blame others for making me feel anything. That was never my vocabulary. If anything, my words were steeped in sorrow, not accusation. Despair wasn’t a mood—it was a kind of integrity. I didn’t dress my grief in the disguise of anger or blame; I let it speak for itself. And when I shared, it wasn’t about assigning fault—it was about expressing the aching helplessness of watching someone I cared about spiral, and the futility I felt trying to reach them.

My Sponsor didn’t shower me with affection or “love” as it’s often portrayed. What I received was a form of clarity, perhaps a kind of austere compassion. What helped was not warmth, but witnessing. Having someone who stayed steady while I didn’t flinch from the tragic dimension of my truth—that’s what kept me coming back.

Even now, I’m wary of joy that feels like theater. Of spiritual platitudes that skate over the dark water. I’ve trained myself to speak with a reverence for pain because that’s where my honesty has lived. When I feel most myself, it’s often in the shadows—not because I haven’t healed, but because I refuse to fake a light that hasn’t truly dawned.

So when I ask myself whether I’ve “improved” by learning to wear this cloak of restored joy and spiritual confidence—I feel the edges of that question cut deep. If healing means smiling more, I don’t know. But if healing means learning to carry tragedy without letting it erase me, then maybe, yes. If it means staying true to the solemnity that shaped me, while still finding the strength to show up—then I think that’s progress, even if it’s not pretty.

Because the truth is: sometimes the most sacred thing I can offer is not a polished testimony, but a quiet presence that refuses to lie.

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Endigar 930 ~ The Quiet Strength of Meditation

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 30, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 21:

What exactly is meditation? Is it something hypnotic, strange, and beyond my capabilities? The dictionary tells me it means, “to think contemplatively.” When I look up “contemplate” it says, “to view thoughtfully.”

In every quiet moment I can find to calm my mind and think through the day ahead of me, I am meditating. During these moments, by clearing my mind and asking my Higher Power to guide me, I find answers to my concerns. I don’t always expect or enjoy the answers I get, but to turn away from them causes even greater turmoil.

I have spent too much of the past working against my better instincts. God gave me instincts as a help, not a hindrance. The more I am quiet enough to discover and follow these instincts, the stronger they become.

Today’s Reminder

I will take time to clear my mind and focus on what is essential for today. I will release any unimportant thoughts. I will then allow myself to be guided toward the best action I can take for today. Regardless of how simple the answers my seem, I will listen without judgment. I will not take my thoughts for granted, for they may be my only guide.

“Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.” ~ William Shakespeare

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Before recovery, I thought meditation was for other people — the enlightened, the peaceful, the ones who lit incense and floated above pain. I didn’t trust stillness back then; it felt like a trap. I needed chaos to feel alive.

But somewhere along the way, as I kept showing up for my regular practice — simple, imperfect, mostly just sitting and breathing — something started to shift. I began to notice that silence didn’t mean absence. It meant space. Spaciousness. A room inside myself where my Higher Power could speak in the only language the soul understands: quiet.

This reflection reminds me that meditation isn’t a performance — it’s permission. Permission to stop trying to figure everything out. Permission to be empty, just for a few minutes, and listen without fixing. Sometimes I receive insight. Sometimes just presence. Sometimes, like today, I realize how deeply it has shaped me — not because I’m “doing it right,” but because I no longer lose myself in every loud moment that comes.

When I had an automobile accident today, my body was hit — but I wasn’t. And maybe that’s what meditation has given me: a self that’s no longer tied to every external storm. I don’t have to panic. I don’t even have to react. I just breathe, ask for guidance, and wait.

I don’t always like the answers. But I’ve lived long enough to know that running from the truth hurts worse than facing it. I’ve fought my own spiritual instincts for years, called them inconvenient, too soft, too slow. But now I see — they were never the problem. They were the compass I didn’t know how to read.

Today, I’ll keep clearing a little space. Not for perfection — for direction. Even the gentlest nudge from within is enough to move mountains when I’m willing to trust it.

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Endigar 929

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 29, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 20:

Fear was a daily part of my experience of alcoholism, and I learned certain ways to cope with it. I often catch myself reacting to my fears in the same way today, even though my circumstances have changed. For example, I often keep quiet when confronted, instead of speaking my mind. This might be a legitimate response, except that I don’t consciously make the choice. This is not responding, it’s reacting, giving up my self-respect out of fear and out of habit.

My best alternative is to admit that I have a problem, accept my reactions, and turn them over to my Higher Power. I’ve often heard that courage is fear that has said its prayers. I must recognize my fear, I must say those prayers, and I must have faith as I wait for healing.

In the meantime, there are important ways in which I can help myself. The first step in learning to respond more effectively to others is to learn to respond more effectively to myself. I can learn to respond with love, caring, and respect for myself, even for those parts of me that experience fear, confusion, and anger.

Today’s Reminder

Today I’ll try to become more aware of alternatives that I haven’t yet recognized.

“. . . Al-Anon helped me to accept the fact that, although I have no control over other people’s reactions or thoughts, I can change the way I react.” ~ . . . In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Fear used to be the water I swam in — so constant I didn’t even know it had a name. It shaped everything: the way I spoke (or stayed silent), the way I moved through relationships, the way I tried to survive. I learned to shrink, to please, to disappear. It wasn’t a conscious decision — it was instinct. It was armor. It was all I knew.

Even now, in recovery, I sometimes catch myself slipping back into those old patterns — not because I’m failing, but because the body remembers. I still find myself going quiet when I’m afraid, even if I have something important to say. I freeze, I retreat, I abandon myself, not because I want to, but because I forget I have another choice.

That’s the difference recovery is teaching me — between reacting and responding. Reaction is old wiring. Response is healing.

And the path to response starts with awareness. It starts with pausing long enough to say, Oh. I’m scared right now. And then instead of pushing it away or letting it run the show, I bring it to prayer. I offer it to my Higher Power — not to be instantly fixed, but to be held.

I’ve always loved that phrase: “Courage is fear that has said its prayers.” It doesn’t mean the fear disappears. It means it no longer has the final word.

One of the most important things I’ve learned is that I cannot respond lovingly to others if I don’t first learn how to respond lovingly to myself. That includes the parts of me that still feel scared, confused, or angry. They’re not signs of failure — they’re signs of being human. And they’re worthy of compassion.

Today, I don’t have to control anyone else’s thoughts, feelings, or reactions. That’s not my job. My job is to become more aware of myself — and to gently, steadily, practice choosing love over fear.
Especially when it comes to the way I treat me.

Courage is armor
A blind man wears;
That calloused scar
Of outlived despairs;
Courage is Fear
That has said its prayers.

~ Karle Wilson Baker

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Endigar 927

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 27, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 19:

When I’m troubled by another person’s behavior, a complicated situation, or a disappointing turn of events, Al-Anon reminds me that I don’t have to take it personally. I’m not a victim of everything that happens unless I choose to see myself that way. Though things don’t always go my way, I can accept what I cannot change, and change what I can.

Perhaps I can take a different view of my problems. If I accept them at face value without taking them personally, I may find that they are not problems at all, only things that have not gone as I would have liked. This change of attitude can help free me to evaluate the situation realistically and move forward constructively.

Today’s Reminder

Blaming my discomfort on outside events can be a way to avoid facing the real cause – my own attitudes. I can see myself as a victim, or I can accept what is happening in my life and take responsibility for my response. I may be guided to take action or to sit still, but when I listen to the guidance of my Higher Power I will no longer be the victim of my circumstances.

“God asks no man whether he will accept life. That is not the choice. You must take it. The only choice is how.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher

END OF QUOTE—————————————

My mind often wants to go to war with life. It’s as if, when something hurts, I instinctively look for someone or something to blame — God, the betrayal, my internal cognitive dissonance. Blame used to feel like protection. If it was an identifiable fault, maybe I could stay safe, or at least feel justified in my anger or withdrawal.

But recovery has been slowly, patiently teaching me another way: that my peace does not depend on the world behaving the way I want it to. My peace depends on the choices I make about how to see and respond to the world.

When I read, “I’m not a victim of everything that happens unless I choose to see myself that way,” I felt a quiet tap on my shoulder. How often do I still cling to a story of being wronged? How often do I use discomfort as proof that life has betrayed me, rather than seeing it as life simply being life — unpredictable, imperfect, alive?

Today I’m reminded that much of my pain is not caused by the events themselves, but by the way I wrap myself around them, the way I resist them or try to demand that they be different. I have always had acceptance issues.

There is so much freedom in learning to accept things at face value. To feel disappointment without turning it into resentment. To experience loss without turning it into a judgment against myself or others. To see an unmet desire not as a cosmic injustice, but simply as what is.

I think this is the heart of the matter: when I blame outside events, I’m usually avoiding a harder truth — that my real suffering comes from my own fearful, grasping, controlling attitudes. It’s humbling. And liberating. Because if the problem isn’t “out there,” then the solution doesn’t have to wait for anything to change. It’s already within me.

I’m learning — slowly, imperfectly — to listen to the quiet, steady voice of my Higher Power. Sometimes that voice says “Act.” Sometimes it says “Wait.” But it always says, “You are not a victim. You are loved. You are free.”

I don’t always hear it right away. But today, I’m willing to listen.

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Endigar 926 ~ The Hour Blessed

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on April 26, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 18:

By the time we reach Al-Anon, many of us resent others whose lives appear less troubled, envying what we think they have. But in time we discover that each of us is special. I have a unique set of skills, interests, and opportunities. I’m assured that I have everything I need to do what I am here to do today. That doesn’t mean I have everything I want, but I can trust that my Higher Power has a better rasp of what’s good for me than I do.

To envy someone else because I want what I think they have is a waste of time. We are on different paths. They have what they need, I have what I need. Resentment will only put a wedge between me and another human being.

I am no one’s victim. I am where I belong. Envy is nothing more than a hostile form of self-pity. I will not succumb to it today. Instead, I will be grateful for the many gifts, talents, and opportunities I have been give. When I appreciate what I have instead of dwelling on what I lack, I feel good about my life. This allows me to be happy for another person’s abundance.

Today’s Reminder

Another person’s bounty reminds me that wonderful things can happen at any time to anybody. I will appreciate the many gifts I have been given.

“Whatever hour God has blessed you with, take it with grateful hand.” ~ Horace

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There are mornings when I wake up with a shadow already in my chest. Some echo of a comparison I never meant to make, lodged somewhere behind my ribs, whispering lies about what I lack. I catch it before it grows teeth. I have learned to do that—thanks to these rooms, these steps, this gentle army of survivors who remind me to stop measuring the worth of my journey against someone else’s map.

It’s so easy to resent what looks like ease in another’s life. To wish for their open doors, their settled smiles, their sense of belonging. But what I see is not the whole of it. And even if it were—what then? What am I really saying when I envy? That my life is not enough? That my path is wrong? That the God who walks with me made some kind of clerical error?

No. Not today.

Today I remember that I have been equipped. Not with what I want, always, but with what I need. Today’s breath. Today’s strength. Today’s lesson. The tools in my pocket might not look like anyone else’s, but they were forged for my hands alone. And I don’t need to prove that to anyone. Not even to myself.

Envy is a disguise. It cloaks my pain in righteousness, then asks me to bow to it. But I won’t worship at that altar. I am not powerless here. I can choose gratitude over grudge. I can admire someone’s light without cursing my shadow. I can remember: another person’s abundance is not my deprivation—it is proof that beauty is still being handed out.

May I meet this hour, the one blessed for me, with open hands. Not to take, but to receive.

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Endigar 925

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on April 25, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 17:

Al-Anon helps many of us to cope with crises that we simply could not have managed on our own. We learn to lean on a Power greater than ourselves, and through the faith and support that surround us, we discover that we can live and even grow through terrible difficult times. For most of us, the situation eventually alters, or we learn to find peace with it.
Some of us continue to worry. What if crises return? Al-Anon has helped before, but will it work for me if I need it again? What if some other misfortune comes to pass?
I cannot know what the future will bring. My best hope is every bit as likely to occur as my worst fear, so I have no reason to give more weight to my negative assumptions. All I can do is make the most of this day. Today I can choose to trust my recovery, the tools of the program, and my Higher Power, and to recognize how very far I have come.
Today’s Reminder
Today I will take a few minutes to acknowledge my growth. I am not perfect, but I certainly have made progress.
“. . . we may not recognize our progress right away, but the effects of working the Al-Anon program are profound and lasting.” ~ . . . In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I’ve walked through fires I once thought would consume me. Some were of my own making, others were handed to me by life, or lineage, or love. And somehow, I’m still here—still standing, still growing, still reaching toward light.

I felt a quiet truth settle in today: the ache I sometimes carry is not failure. It’s memory. It’s the body remembering how bad it once was and bracing itself for what might come again.

But the wisdom of recovery doesn’t demand I erase that fear. It just reminds me not to build my future around it.

I’ve seen my Higher Power show up in unlikely places—in the middle of crisis, in the calm of morning light, in the eyes of strangers and the pages of sacred texts. I’ve seen grace turn wreckage into soil. So why wouldn’t It do so again?

Today, I honor the fact that I’ve grown. I am not the man I was. And while I’m still becoming, I can rest in the assurance that I don’t face the next thing alone.

I have tools. I have Spirit. I have community.


And I have a track record of rising eight after falling seven.

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Endigar 924

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 24, 2025 by endigar

Courage to Change of Jun 16:

In Al-Anon we talk a lot about the need to let others experience the consequences of their actions. We know that most alcoholics have to hit a “bottom” and become uncomfortable with their own behavior before they can effectively do something about it. Thos of us who love alcoholics often have to learn to get out of the way of this bottom. We learn to detach with love.

Another reason for detachment with love may be equally important in building healthy, loving, respectful relationships. Many of us have interfered not on with a love one’s problems but also with their achievements. I may have the best of intentions, but if I take over other people’s responsibilities, I may rob them of the chance to accomplish something and to feel good about what they’ve done. Although I am trying to help, my actions may be communicating a lack of respect for my loved ones’ abilities. When I detach with love, I offer support by freeing those I care about to experience both their own satisfactions and disappointments.

Today’s Reminder

I am learning the difference between help and interference. Today I will examine the way I offer support.

“Detachment did not mean disinterest… I considered detachment ‘respect for another’s personhood.’” ~ Al-Anon Faces Alcoholism

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Respectful detachment; which speaks less of stepping away and more of stepping aside—creating sacred space for the other to walk their path, however winding or painful it may be. In Al-Anon’s framing, detachment is not abandonment or apathy.

It is, in fact, a deeper form of love—one that honors the sovereignty of the other.

When I rush in to rescue, to soften the blow, or to finish the task, I might be protecting others from their pain—but also from their growth. It is humbling to recognize that even our help, when uninvited or habitual, can be a subtle form of control. This passage reminds me: We do not walk their path for them—we walk alongside, when welcome, and step back when needed.

The phrase, “respect for another’s personhood,” is especially moving. It redefines detachment not as coldness but as reverence. We don’t need to micromanage the divine unfolding of another’s life story. By letting go, we express faith—not only in them, but in the wisdom of life itself.

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Endigar 922 ~ The Tongue Drawn Like a Sword

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on April 23, 2025 by endigar

Courage to Change of Jun 15:

“Many have fallen by the edge of the sword, but more have fallen by the tongue.” This quotation calls attention to a weapon many of us have been known to use: sarcasm. The cutting remark, the snide innuendo, the scornful sneer.

If I could see myself uttering these verbal assaults, I would not be proud of the picture. So why do it? When I am angry or frustrated, I may get momentary satisfaction in scoring a hit, but does sarcasm get me what I truly desire? Will attacking someone else help to solve the problems between us? Is this really the way I wish to behave? Of course not.

Sometimes I feel helpless and angry. When that happens, I might try calling an Al-Anon friend or going to a meeting where I can get some perspective. I might write down every nasty word I want to say and then read it to my Sponsor. Sometimes it feels good to let it out. But I need to do it appropriately and not hurt others needlessly in doing so. Afterward, I’ll be better able to behave constructively and communicate in a way I can be proud of.

Today’s Reminder

Most of us carry more than our share of shame. I will not add to the problem by using cruel, clever words to humiliate a fellow human being. In doing so, I would be shaming myself.

“Everyone in an alcoholic situation deserves and needs extra loving care.” ~ Living with Sobriety

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There’s something seductive about the verbal kill — that flash of superiority, the illusion of power. Especially when I feel powerless inside. When anger has no safe container, when grief hasn’t been grieved, when fear stands at the door of my heart pretending to be courage. That’s when the tongue gets sharp.

And yet, every time I wield words to wound, I am the one who limps away bleeding. Because what I really wanted was connection — not conquest. What I really needed was to be heard, not to be feared. And sarcasm never bridges that gap. It widens it.

Maybe it would be good to learn to call someone. Write it down. Speak it aloud to a Sponsor who won’t flinch. Let the heat rise and cool. Only then am I able to say what’s genuinely true — not just what’s clever.

Humor isn’t my enemy. Neither is anger. They are both holy when held with care. But cruelty masquerading as wit? That’s just unprocessed pain taking the stage in disguise.

Today, I pray for the courage to lay down my sword — even the invisible one. To trade pride for presence. To speak with the kind of fire that warms, not burns. Because I know what it is to walk wounded in a world already full of blades.

Let my words be medicine. Let them be grace.

Lucien

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