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Endigar 1032

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 16:

During my years in Al-Anon I have done lots of thinking about the First Step; lately I have done lots of feeling about it, too. The feeling work can be described mostly in one word: Grief. Recalling a friend’s rapid progression through alcoholism, from reasonable health and apparent happiness to cirrhosis and death, I feel grief.

I don’t necessarily hate this disease today, but I do feel fiercely its crippling, powerful presence in my life. I have memories of the damage done to my family, my friends, and myself. I grieve for the loss of love and life that alcoholism has caused. I grieve for the lost years I have spent jumping through the hoops of this disease. I admit that I am powerless over alcohol and that my life has been utterly unmanageable whenever I have grappled with it.

Today’s Reminder

I have suffered many losses as the result of alcoholism. Part of admitting the effects of this disease in my life is admitting my grief. By facing alcoholism’s impact on my life, I begin to move out of its grip and into a life of great promise and hope.

It’s not easy to admit defeat and give in to that powerful foe, alcoholism. Yet, this surrender is absolutely necessary if we are ever to have sane, happy lives again.

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I recognize the devastation alcoholism has caused. Part of the honesty in the First Step is to continue to walk through grief without being defined by it. Could the grief that comes to me from time to time be teaching me about love? About who and what is significant in my life? And maybe this understanding is something that I can share without collapsing into morbid hopelessness. My sorrow connects me to countless others who mourn the same losses. So, I examine my grief as part of my daily inventory, not as a sentence but as a guide. I desire to have the courage to share my grief aloud, refusing to hide it as shame. I suspect that grief, when embraced, becomes not a dead end but a turning point.

What losses am I still carrying, and have I given myself permission to grieve them?

There is a paradox here. To grieve is to admit defeat, to surrender. Yet that surrender is not destruction—it is release. When I say, “I am powerless,” I am not just cataloguing the chaos; I am opening the door to hope. I admit that I cannot force sobriety, cannot control disease, cannot bend life back to what it once was. What I can do is grieve honestly. And in that grief, I find the soil where serenity might one day grow.

Am I confusing surrender with weakness, when surrender is actually the path to strength?

Grief has a strange holiness to it. It feels like loss, but it is also love’s shadow. If I did not care, I would not mourn. In recovery, I learn that even grief can become a companion rather than a captor. By naming it, I loosen its grip. By facing it, I transform despair into reverence for life as it is. My Higher Power does not erase my pain, but breathes into it, teaching me that surrender can be more healing than victory.

How can I let grief soften me instead of harden me?

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Endigar 1030

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 15:

Night after sleepless night, I tossed and turned and worried. Why couldn’t I sleep? What was the matter with me? My life was stressful, but no more so than usual. I’d tried hot milk, reading in bed, soft music, even a visit to the doctor, but still I couldn’t get more than a few hours sleep. I was in a panic!

I spoke about my concerns in an Al-Anon meeting, and another member related a similar problem. What had helped him was to accept the situation fully and admit that he was powerless to make himself sleep. In retrospect, he said, his sleeplessness had been a blessing; it had kept him too tired to get into trouble.

I realized that the same was true for me. Instead of worrying compulsively about a loved one’s sobriety, watchful and nosy despite many attempts to mind my own business, lately I’ve been too tired to be overly involved in anything that wasn’t my concern. I had often prayed to be released from my obsessive worry, and now, in an unexpected way, my prayers seem to have been answered.

Today’s Reminder

My Higher Power’s gifts sometimes take unusual forms. Perhaps something I regard as a problem is really a form of assistance.

“Nothing is either good or bad. It’s thinking that makes it so.” – William Shakespeare

END OF QUOTE—————————————

My problem is the opposite of sleeplessness. In this season of life, sleep has become my greatest solace. I live alone, save for a cat who waits sweetly—if somewhat morbidly—to one day feast on my silent, non-breathing carcass. Within this private realm of rest, I pray. I seek connection. I don’t feel lost in depression, but rather suspended—sleep loosens the grip of my obsession with reaching the Infinite One.

Recently my ACA Sponsor sent me a YouTube video of Alan Watts titled No Friends, No Lovers, Just God and the Man Who Believes. Watts, for all his eloquence, never performed the kind of miracles that would convince me of his spiritual ascension. He was married three times, fathered seven children, and struggled with alcoholism until his death at 58. He also experimented with marijuana, LSD, mescaline, and—less certainly—psilocybin mushrooms. Though he wrote and lectured on the mystical potential of these substances, he warned against clinging to them, likening psychedelics to a telephone: useful for receiving a message, but pointless to keep “holding onto after the message has been delivered.”

I believe my Sponsor’s intent in sharing the video was not to highlight Watts’ life but his message: that learning to be comfortable with solitude is the first step to knowing yourself and connecting with God. Watts described this as an intense internal existence, where surrender in aloneness dissolves the need for human approval—and where serenity itself attracts others without effort. But to me, his own life does not reflect this ideal. Instead, I hear in it a mystical justification for chemical dependency and emotional absence within intimacy. Harsh? Perhaps. But it is my honest observation.

And here lies the paradox I keep encountering: the Higher Power’s gifts rarely come wrapped in gold. More often they arrive disguised in the ordinary—or even the unpleasant. A sleepless night. An overabundance of sleep. A closed door, an unwelcome delay. What I label as a problem may, in fact, be grace in work clothes. Acceptance is not resignation, but trust: that even this—this inconvenience, this seeming curse—might be the blessing I didn’t recognize I needed.

So I ask myself:

  • What if my present discomfort is secretly serving me?
  • What if the very thing I resent is the tool that keeps me from falling deeper into obsession?
  • Can I thank my Higher Power not only for comforts but for interruptions?

I admit—I hate oversleeping. And yet, perhaps it is not the enemy I’ve made it out to be. I keep showing up, even soul-tired, even unpolished, still trying to be useful. Maybe other “problems” in my life have been blessings in disguise, too. If sleep can shield me from obsession, perhaps another person’s burden hides its own strange grace.

I want to learn to seek usefulness in the unwanted. In meetings, I try to share my struggles openly, giving others permission to do the same. Could it be that sleep is not a thief after all, but a teacher?

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Endigar 1029

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 14:

Living with alcoholism taught me that it was best not to hope for anything. The lessons were too painful — I would get excited about something, only to have my hopes shattered. As time passed and hope diminished, I fell deeper into despair. Eventually I shut down my feelings and refused to care or to hope for anything at all.

Through Al-Anon’s Twelve Steps, I am discovering a spirituality that allows me to believe that there is every reason to hope. With my Higher Power’s help, regardless of my circumstances, I can feel fully alive in the moment and enjoy this feeling. The painful lessons of a lifetime are not unlearned overnight, but Al-Anon is helping me to learn that it is safe to feel, to hope, even to dream.

Today’s Reminder

It is risky to care — I may be disappointed. But in trying to protect myself from pain, I could cut myself off from the many delights that life has to offer. I will live more fully today.

“Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.” ~ Samuel Ullman

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE: Samuel Ullman (1840–1924) was an American businessman, poet, humanitarian, and religious leader best remembered for his poem “Youth.”

Early Life

  • He was born in Hechingen, Germany, in 1840.
  • At the age of 11, he immigrated with his family to the United States, settling in Mississippi.
  • Samuel Ullman’s father, Jacob Ullman, operated a butcher shop in Port Gibson, Mississippi when the family settled there in 1851. Young Samuel assisted him each morning delivering orders before school and later helped purchase cattle for the business
  • When the Civil War broke out, Ullman, then in his early 20s, served in the Confederate Army. He was part of a local Mississippi unit.
  • Samuel Ullman wed Emma Mayer on May 24, 1867, in Natchez, Mississippi. They had a total of eight children. However, of these, six survived to adulthood, meaning two sadly passed away in early childhood

Career and Contributions

  • Ullman became a successful businessman in Birmingham, Alabama, after moving there in 1884.
  • He was deeply involved in civic life: he served on the Birmingham Board of Education, championed racial equality in education, and was active in religious and community causes.
  • As a lay leader in Temple Emanu-El (a Reform Jewish congregation), he was respected for his moral vision and emphasis on human dignity.
  • Jewish Leadership
    Ullman was raised in a Jewish family and carried his faith with him through his moves from Germany to Mississippi and later to Birmingham, Alabama.
    In Birmingham, he became a founding member of Temple Emanu-El (a Reform Jewish congregation). His leadership there was notable, as he worked to help establish Jewish religious life in what was still a very young and rapidly growing city.
    He also served as a lay leader, meaning he often led prayers, gave talks, and carried responsibilities when professional rabbis were unavailable.

    Service to the Community
    Ullman emphasized that religious duty was not confined to ritual, but extended to civic responsibility.
    He served on the Birmingham Board of Education and worked to promote racial justice and better schooling for African Americans at a time when this was rare. His religious values deeply influenced this advocacy, seeing education as a spiritual responsibility.

    Philosophy of Faith
    In his writings and speeches, Ullman often connected faith with youthfulness of spirit, stressing inner renewal and moral courage as religious acts.
    His famous poem Youth embodies this perspective: living with openness, hope, and vitality was for him not just personal philosophy, but a religious ethic.

    Practical Duties
    He helped guide Jewish worship and community structure at Temple Emanu-El.
    He lived by example, showing that religious duty extended to the way one treated others—through kindness, justice, and an unflagging commitment to growth.

His Poem “Youth”

  • Ullman is most famous for writing the poem “Youth,” which he composed later in life.
  • The poem emphasizes that youth is not defined by age but by attitude, imagination, and ideals.
  • It gained international fame largely because General Douglas MacArthur often quoted it and kept a framed copy in his office in Tokyo after World War II.
  • The poem became especially popular in Japan, where it continues to be read as an inspirational text.

Legacy

His life embodied service, cross-cultural respect, and the blending of business success with moral and civic duty.

In Birmingham, the Samuel Ullman Museum (part of the University of Alabama at Birmingham) preserves his legacy.

Youth by Samuel Ullman

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity of the appetite, for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of sixty more than a body of twenty. Nobody grows old merely by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.

Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spirit back to dust.

Whether sixty or sixteen, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonder, the unfailing child-like appetite of what’s next, and the joy of the game of living. In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wireless station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage and power from men and from the Infinite, so long are you young.

When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you are grown old, even at twenty, but as long as your aerials are up, to catch the waves of optimism, there is hope you may die young at eighty.

END OF NOTE—————————————

When the lips are gone, the smile turns irrepressible.
When the orbs sink into the raven’s gut, the gaze remains ever watchful.
The oxygen tent is torn away, and nature’s breath flows unhindered.

Emptiness lingers—
the footprint of that wandering ghost we call freedom,
passing through walls of illusion without training wheels.

And in its wake,
hope rises, resurrecting life anew.


Living with alcoholism taught me that hope could feel like a trap. Each time I reached for it, I seemed to be punished: expectations raised, then crushed. So I trained myself not to hope at all. It felt safer to numb, safer to shut down, safer to live in a barren landscape than to risk the disappointment of a shattered dream. Yet beneath that silence, despair kept spreading roots.

The Twelve Steps have been my invitation back to hope. Not the fragile, conditional hope that depends on someone else’s behavior or on life bending to my demands — but the grounded hope that comes from turning my will and my life over to a Higher Power. With help, I’ve learned that it is safe to feel again, safe to open the heart a crack wider, safe to let the light in. Hope does not mean I will get everything I want; it means I can trust that whatever comes, I will not face it alone.

Yes, there is risk in caring. To love, to hope, to dream means stepping into vulnerability, and vulnerability always carries the possibility of pain. But pain is not the enemy — disconnection is. When I cut myself off to avoid being hurt, I also cut myself off from joy, laughter, intimacy, and the unexpected gifts life places along the way. Hope is not a guarantee against suffering, but it is the doorway into living fully


Today I can choose to treat each act of hope as a spiritual exercise:

  • When I allow myself to hope, I practice courage.
  • When I risk caring, I practice connection.
  • When I dream, I practice co-creating a life with my Higher Power.

1. Spiritual Honesty: I name my fear of disappointment.
2. Resilience: I let myself hope anyway.
3. Curiosity of the Soul: What possibilities open when I refuse despair?
4. Empathy and Compassion: Others fear hope too — my journey can reassure them.
5. Discipline in Reflection: Each day I test where I’ve hidden from hope, and I try again.
6. Courage to Be Seen: I confess that I want more from life — and that is holy.
7. Creative Insight: Hope is not fragile glass, it is a living seed — buried, yes, but insistent on breaking through.

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Endigar 1028

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 19, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 13:

Each moment of this day is precious, and I will make it count. I will use this time to enrich my life and to improve my relationship with my Higher Power, other people, and myself. Each of the Twelve Steps can help me to pursue this goal regardless of my circumstances. Meetings, Al-Anon telephone calls, and Al-Anon literature all help me to apply the Steps to what is happening in my life here and now. In this moment, I can make a positive change.

Perhaps I will think of time as a special kind of checking account. I have twenty-four hours to spend. By putting Al-Anon’s principles to work in my life today, I am choosing to use these hours to grow, enjoy, and improve. I even have an opportunity to learn from my mistakes, since a brand new twenty-four hours can begin at any moment.

Today’s Reminder

This day offers me a chance to make a new start at living. How can I make the best use of it?

“We start with gifts. Merit comes from what we make of them.”
– Jean Toomer

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Note: Jean Toomer (1894–1967) was an American writer, poet, and thinker best known for his 1923 book Cane, a groundbreaking work of modernist literature that blends poetry, prose, and drama.

Background

  • He was born in Washington, D.C., into a mixed-race family and grew up moving between Negro and Caucasian communities, which deeply shaped his outlook on identity.
  • Toomer resisted being categorized strictly by race. Though associated with the Harlem Renaissance, he did not fully embrace the label of “Negro writer,” instead seeing himself as an American author exploring universal human themes.

Cane (1923)

  • Cane is his most famous work, often considered one of the masterpieces of the Harlem Renaissance.
  • It weaves together vignettes, poems, and sketches of Negro life in both the rural South and the urban North, portraying themes of identity, sexuality, spirituality, and the Great Migration.
  • Its experimental style—mixing lyricism, folklore, and modernist fragmentation—made it unique for its time.

Later Life

  • After Cane, Toomer never published another major literary work, though he wrote essays, plays, and unpublished manuscripts.
  • He became involved with spiritual movements, particularly the teachings of the mystic George Gurdjieff, which influenced his later writings and personal philosophy.
  • He married Margery Latimer, a white writer, in 1931, which was controversial in the U.S. due to anti-miscegenation attitudes and laws.
  • Much of his later life was devoted to spiritual seeking and private writing rather than public literary activity.

Legacy

He is remembered as a bridge figure between different identities, artistic movements, and cultural currents of early 20th-century America.

Though he distanced himself from being labeled a “Black writer,” his desire was ignored and now his work—especially Cane—is recognized as central to African American literature and modernist experimentation. It is more the work of American individualism than racial Darwinist competition.

END OF NOTE—————————————

There are roughly 37 trillion cells in my body. Within just one of those cells resides a molecule: L43NxB500325Ydπ. And within that molecule, housed deep inside a neutron, lies the Quantum Infinity Vault. Its emblem is the macro/micro infinity ouroboros — the eternal cycle of vast and small, endlessly entwined.

The code to open this vault is 23(3), which summons 24. When opened, the vault releases an inexhaustible supply of positive selfishness (ps). A pulsating dose of ps moves through my body each day. If I fail to use it within the 24-hour span of Earth’s rotation, it decays into the maggot-filled manna of fearful isolation. But if I spend it freely — if I feed the hungry Sun — it transforms into connection, filling my day with living tools of recovery.

For when I have enough ps to proclaim, “I want to live” or “I want to recreate my life”, then I also find:

  • the courage to connect,
  • the humility to listen to other versions of success, and
  • the deep, restoring respiration of serenity.

Long live molecule L43NxB500325Ydπ!

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Endigar 1027

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 18, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 12:

In dealing with a change, a problem, or a discovery, awareness is often followed by a period of acceptance before we can take action. This process is sometimes referred to as the Three A’s– Awareness, Acceptance, and Action.

Coping with a new awareness can be extremely awkward, and most of us are eager to spare ourselves pain or discomfort. Yet, until we accept the reality with which we have been faced, we probably won’t be capable of taking effective action with confidence.

Still, we may hesitate to accept an unpleasant reality because we feel that by accepting, we condone something that is intolerable. But this is not the case. As it says so eloquently in One Day at a Time in Al-Anon, “Acceptance does not mean submission to a degrading situation. It means accepting the fact of a situation, then deciding what we will do about it.” Acceptance can be empowering because it makes choice possible.

Today’s Reminder

I will give myself time to accept my situation before I act. Unforeseen options can become available when I accept what is.

“For here we are not afraid to follow truth wherever it may lead.” ~ Thomas Jefferson

END OF QUOTE—————————————

The three A’s are Awareness, Acceptance, and Action.

Awareness comes first, and it can feel like a light switched on in a dark room. Sometimes that light is gentle, and sometimes it is blinding. Either way, once I see, I cannot unsee. That is both the gift and the discomfort of awareness: it stirs me awake.

But then comes the pause — the liminal space called acceptance. This is where I often struggle. Part of me wants to leap immediately into fixing, doing, proving that I can handle what I’ve discovered. Yet without acceptance, my actions are frantic and hollow. They are more about escaping discomfort than walking with truth.

In my first rehab center, my counselor gave me a prescription for a text in the book, Alcoholics Anonymous, that states that acceptance is the solution to all my problems. I was afflicted with “acceptance issues.” I have feared that acceptance would mean condoning harm, weakness, or loss. But the program reminds me that acceptance is not submission. It is clarity. It is the strength to stop wrestling with what is, so I can finally decide what can be. In that surrender lies power, because choice only emerges once reality is no longer denied.

The final “A” — action — becomes a natural outflow, not a panicked reaction. It is not about perfection or guarantees. It is simply the next right step, grounded in serenity rather than desperation.

 Awareness need not terrify me, acceptance need not paralyze me, and action need not overwhelm me. Together, the Three A’s give me a rhythm for living: to see, to breathe, to step forward in trust.

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Endigar 1026

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on August 16, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 11:

During the entire process of working on my Fourth Step (making a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself), I felt a nagging suspicion that I wasn’t doing it right. With my Higher Power’s help, I finally realized that the problem wasn’t that I had done my Fourth Step wrong; the fact was that I had the same sense of inadequacy about my whole life. Whatever I’m doing, I’m inclined to feel that I’m doing it wrong, that my best is not good enough. And that is simply not true. I am doing just fine.

The awareness that I have developed through Step Four puts my self-doubt into perspective. It’s just an effect of years of living with problem drinkers. So when the feeling comes up, I recognize it, share about it, accept that I feel it, and then set it aside. I no longer assume that it has any validity.

Today’s Reminder

Step Four offers me a chance to find some balance. It helps me to identify the things I’ve been telling myself about myself, and to learn whether or not those things are true. Today I will take one of my assumptions about myself and hold it up to the light. I may find that it stems from habit rather than reality.

“Let me realize… that self-doubt and self-hate are defects of character that hinder my growth.” – The Dilemma of the Alcoholic Marriage

END OF QUOTE—————————————

The Old Reflex of Inadequacy

That nagging suspicion — I’m not doing this right — has followed me like a shadow through most of my life. It isn’t really about the Fourth Step, though it attached itself there. It’s the reflex of someone who grew up in the undertow of alcoholism, where no matter how well I tried to balance myself, it never felt steady enough. My “best” has long been stalked by the whisper that it’s never good enough. But recovery helps me name that whisper for what it is: not truth, just a scar of survival.

Step Four as a Mirror

The Fourth Step didn’t just catalog my mistakes; it taught me to hold up my assumptions about myself to the light. It showed me that the voice of inadequacy isn’t an authority, only an echo of the chaos I once lived in. Now, when it speaks, I don’t have to follow it. I can recognize it, share it in a meeting, and lay it down. That is freedom: to know I don’t have to argue with every thought that passes through me.

Balance Over Condemnation

Honesty in recovery is not about self-condemnation, nor is it about inflating the darkness. It’s about balance. It is about seeing where my habits of self-judgment come from, and daring to believe they don’t define me. If I take one assumption today — “I am not enough” — and test it against the evidence of my recovery, I find a different verdict: I am showing up, I am doing the work, and I am learning to live differently. That is enough. More than enough.

I like the idea of catching one old belief about myself, and to let the light of truth reveal whether it is habit or reality. I suspect that in that space of honesty, serenity grows.

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Endigar 1025

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 15, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 10:

My denial was so thick when I came to Al-Anon that I didn’t even know there were alcoholics in my life. Al-Anon helped me feel safe enough to look at the truth. As my denial began to lift, I was horrified at the lies I had told myself and others.

But I went from one extreme to the other and became a compulsive truth teller. It became my mission to inform anyone who would listen about what was really happening. I labeled this “honesty,” but I was actually expressing my anger and scorn for the alcoholic — and crying out for help.

Al-Anon has shown me that my view of a situation is only the “truth” as seen from my tiny corner of the universe. I can’t undo past denial by blaming the alcoholic for having a disease that has affected both our lives, or by bitterly insisting that I now know the real truth. But I can forgive my extreme responses to extreme situations, knowing that I did the best I could at the time. Today I can be honest and still be gentle with myself.

Today’s Reminder

When I stop worrying about how others see things and focus on myself, I gain more serenity than I have ever known. I cannot control the disease of alcoholism, but I can step away from its grip by honestly examining my motives and feelings.

“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I wondered whether I qualified for Al-Anon. But I read and listened and realized that my own deceased grandfather, who died of his Alcoholism when my mother was a 17-year-old girl, had an untreated impact on her that echoed through her parenting of me and my siblings. Then my stepson came into my life when he was 16 and was dealing with continuous battles with addiction. Other later developments made it clear that I carried the impact of alcoholism and addiction through lines of blinding intimacy. Once I had my own alcoholism treated into remission, I had to face the reality that my life had been contaminated by the dysfunction that comes from loving those afflicted.

I also learned not to accept “truth” from someone who was not truly invested in my wellbeing. I remember learning to distrust the word “honesty” because of it being weaponized against me. This was an early obstacle in my own recovery from alcoholism that I had to overcome. I would hear, “I just want you to be honest with me,” to be “I just want to collect enough evidence to win in court, to subjugate your dignity, and to indoctrinate you to love in defeat.”

When that fog began to lift, the first rays of truth felt threatening. I lurched from one extreme to the other, trying to make up for lost time by telling “my truth” to anyone who’d listen. I thought I was practicing a more powerful honesty, but often I was really venting anger, shaming the dysfunctional players in my life, or just pleading for someone to understand my pain.

Al-Anon has taught me that truth isn’t a blunt instrument. My perspective is still just that — my own small corner of reality. Honesty without compassion can wound others and, ultimately, myself. I can acknowledge that my early reactions were survival strategies, born from confusion and fear, and forgive myself for not knowing better at the time.

Now I understand that serenity grows not from proving I’m right, but from examining my own motives. I can still tell the truth — but now, I aim to do it with gentleness, humility, and awareness of my own limits. The disease of alcoholism and its surrounding dysfunction are beyond my control, but my responses are mine to tend. When I let go of the need to control how others see things, I free up the space to focus on my own healing.

That shift — from weaponizing truth to embodying it — has brought me more peace than I could have imagined when I first arrived.

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Endigar 1024

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 12, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 09:

Sometimes I sit in a meeting and I don’t know how to ask for help. I can get trapped inside my pain. Some nameless thing seems to tear at my insides. I freeze, thinking that if I don’t move, it will go away. So I don’t ask, I don’t talk, and the pain grows.

Does my face look calm? Don’t be fooled. I’m just afraid to let you see the truth. You might think I’m foolish or weak. You might reject me. So I don’t talk, and the pain remains.

But I listen. And through other people, my Higher Power does for me what I can’t do for myself. Someone in the meeting shares and expresses the very feelings I am afraid to describe. My world suddenly widens, and I feel a little safer. I am no longer alone.

Today’s Reminder

One of the miracles I have found in Al-Anon is that help often comes when I most need it. When I can’t bring myself to reach out for help, it sometimes comes to me. When I don’t know what to say, I am given the words I require. And when I share what is in my heart, I may be giving a voice to someone who cannot find his own. Today I have a Higher Power who knows my needs.

“As I walk, As I walk, The universe is walking with me.” – from the Navajo rain dance ceremony

END OF QUOTE—————————————

To withdraw or not to withdraw—that is the question. Life among humans can feel unbearably taxing, threatening, and disappointing. There’s no escaping that imagined spotlight fixed on my weaknesses, and no connection that fully satisfies my longing for something more.

I suspect others feel much the same. I also suspect that much of life is pretense—a kind of protective ritual. Whenever I encounter genuine connection in a safe space, it feels like a godsend. But inevitably, humanity finds a way to wound the inner child. And in the game of life, the safest place often seems to be the sidelines.

I know that silence can feel like safety. In my darker seasons, I’ve sat in meetings with my insides in knots and my face arranged in calm, thinking the stillness might somehow hide my storm. I’ve feared that if I spoke, I would be exposed—my weakness on full display, my worth put on trial. I’ve told myself, Just keep quiet. It will pass.

It rarely passes on its own. Pain that is swallowed whole only seems to grow heavier. But even when I can’t make my voice work, recovery has a way of finding me. I’ve sat frozen, and then someone across the circle shares a story that sounds like my story. Their words become the key I didn’t know I was holding. In that moment, the tight walls of my solitude widen, and light seeps in.

This is one of the miracles of our rooms: I don’t have to be the one speaking to be reached. My Higher Power uses the voices of others when I’ve lost my own. And when I finally dare to share my truth—halting, messy, imperfect—I sometimes see the same relief in someone else’s eyes.

Today, I am trying not to measure my recovery by how much I speak, but by how willing I am to be present—whether I’m the one carrying the message or the one being carried by it. I trust that the God of my understanding knows my needs, even when my mouth is closed and my hands are clenched.

When I cannot ask for help, I can still sit in the circle. Sometimes that’s enough for help to find me.

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Endigar 1023

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 11, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 08:

Is there anything that stands in the way of my trusting in a Higher Power? What obstacles block me from turning over my will and my life to God? In my case, the answer is obvious: I want guarantees. I hold out, thinking that I’ll come up with a new solution to my problems even though I’ve tried and failed, again and again. The risk of faith seems so great. If I turn a situation over, I won’t be in control. I can’t be sure I’ll get my way.

Yet I want recovery. If I continue to do what I have always done, I will continue to get what I have always gotten. I want the benefits that this spiritual program has to offer. Therefore, I must take the risk and let go and let God.

Maybe faith will bring me the results I seek, maybe not. Although there are no guarantees, the benefits of building a strong relationship with a Higher Power can help me to grow confident, strong, and capable of coping with whatever comes to pass long after this particular crisis has been resolved.

Today’s Reminder

Today I will make a contribution to my spiritual development. I will try to identify the obstacles that block my faith.

“Understanding is the reward of faith. Therefore, seek not to understand that thou mayest believe, but believe that thou mayest understand.” – Aurelius Augustinus

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE: Aurelius Augustinus — better known in English as Saint Augustine of Hippo — was a Christian theologian, philosopher, and bishop who lived from 354 to 430 CE.

He’s one of the most influential figures in Western Christianity and philosophy, often considered a bridge between the ancient Roman world and the emerging medieval Christian thought.

Key points about him:

Death: Died in 430 CE during the siege of Hippo by the Vandals.

Early Life: Born in Thagaste (present-day Souk Ahras, Algeria), in Roman North Africa. His mother, Monica, was a devout Christian; his father, Patricius, was a pagan.

Youth & Conversion: Augustine lived a restless and hedonistic youth, famously describing his early desires and moral struggles in his Confessions. He followed the Manichaean religion for a time, then explored Neoplatonism before converting to Christianity at age 31 under the influence of Saint Ambrose of Milan.

Bishop of Hippo: He became the bishop of Hippo Regius (modern Annaba, Algeria) and served for over 30 years.

Major Works:

Confessions — a spiritual autobiography and philosophical meditation.

The City of God — a monumental defense of Christianity against pagan critics after the sack of Rome in 410.

On Christian Doctrine — guidelines for interpreting Scripture.

Theology: His writings deeply shaped Western ideas on original sin, divine grace, predestination, and the relationship between the Church and the state.

When I look at the question, What’s standing in the way of my trusting God?—my instinct is to look outward. I think of circumstances, other people, unanswered prayers. But when I slow down, I usually find the real obstacle staring back at me in the mirror.

For me, it’s not that I can’t believe in a Higher Power—it’s that I still want a contract instead of a relationship. I want terms and conditions that guarantee comfort, safety, and a life arranged according to my preferences. I want to sign on with God only if He signs off on my blueprint. That’s not faith. That’s control disguised as piety.

I’ve learned that this program asks me to risk something I’ve held tightly for a long time—my illusion of control. If I wait until I feel safe to take the risk, I will never take it. I can either keep doing what hasn’t worked and get the same results, or I can step into the discomfort of surrender and see what’s on the other side.

When I do let go, I’m often surprised to find that faith doesn’t always give me the outcome I was after—it gives me something sturdier. It builds my capacity to endure, to adapt, and sometimes to even welcome the unexpected. I find myself equipped not just for the crisis of today, but for the ones I can’t yet see.

I will name the obstacles between me and faith—fear, pride, self-reliance that’s really self-protection. And I will make a small, conscious choice to loosen my grip, even if it’s just for a moment. That moment might be all God needs to slip something new into my hands.

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Endigar 1021

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 8, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 07:

I never thought much about Tradition Seven, which says that every group ought to be fully self-supporting. I thought it referred only to paying the rent. But recently I was involved with a group that maintained itself financially and still was not fully self-supporting because no one would commit to service. I already held several positions, and when my various terms expired, no one was willing to take my place. I made what felt like the responsible choice for myself and stepped down anyway. The meeting closed. In my opinion, a group that cannot fill its service positions is not fully self-supporting.

Today, in other, more flourishing groups, I have a greater appreciation of my responsibility to this Tradition. I believe that as we nurture our groups, we nurture and empower ourselves. We can make a contribution; we can make choices that help us to allow healing in ourselves and others.

Today’s Reminder

There’s more to maintaining a fully self-supporting Al-Anon group than just paying the rent. Continuity of service is important to our common welfare. Today I will think about the contribution I am making to my home group.

“I can support my group in a number of ways. When the basket is passed, I can give what I can. Just as important, I can give my time and moral support to help make ours the kind of group I want to belong to.” – Alateen—a day at a time

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Every group ought to be fully self-supporting without resorting to outside contributions. The spirit of tradition seven is that the group and its autonomy are essential for its member individuals. Part of protecting individual recovery of one’s truest self is to support the most intimate group with personal time and resource. It is also a good litmus test of the vibrancy of one’s progress in the program. The person with untreated alcoholism or addiction is obsessively selfish and prone to isolation. All the traditions test the potency of the 12 Steps in an individual’s life.

So I ask myself today:

– Am I a guest in this program, or a steward of it?
– Do I give only when I’m inspired—or also when I’m responsible?
– Is my recovery group something I take from, or something I help carry?

I’m not here to burn out or martyr myself. But I am here to take part in the sacred exchange that is community. When I offer my service, even in small ways, I reinforce the scaffolding that holds this whole miraculous thing together.

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