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Endigar 1010

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 20, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 27:

At my first Al-Anon meeting, I was disappointed when I was given the Twelve Steps instead of a “do’s and don’t’s” list for changing the alcoholic. Nevertheless, I was desperate enough to give the Steps a try, anyway.

At my second Al-Anon meeting I thought I had those first three Steps down pretty well — I knew I was powerless, I believed in God, and I was willing to dump my problems onto anyone who would take them. As I continued to attend meetings I began to see that I wasn’t really admitting my powerlessness or I wouldn’t keep trying to control everyone and everything around me. OK, so I skipped the part about letting go and letting God.

Today I am so glad to have a patient God, so that when I finally say, “Not my will but Your will,” God steps in and sorts things out in ways I never would have imagined. The first three Steps aren’t as easy as I once thought, but in Al-Anon I’ve learned to aim for progress, not perfection.

Today’s Reminder

When I was dealing with alcoholism without the help of Al-Anon, I developed coping skills. These are no longer enough. Al-Anon is teaching me a new and better set of skills. I will try to be patient with myself. I’m doing fine.

“As long as you live, keep learning how to live.” ~ Seneca

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE: Seneca—full name Lucius Annaeus Seneca (c. 4 BCE – 65 CE)—was a Roman Stoic philosopher, statesman, playwright, and advisor to Emperor Nero. He is one of the most influential voices in Stoic philosophy, especially known for his writings on ethics, resilience, and the inner life. Forced to commit suicide after being accused of conspiracy—he met it with calm, in true Stoic fashion.

I watch people who believe debate with people who don’t—arguing back and forth about the existence of God. To me, it’s an irrelevant conversation. Until either side can explain infinity—or infinitely explain—it’s all just noise.

I am mortal. My thoughts are shaped by the context of a limited life. And yet, in my own quiet pursuit of a Higher Power, something real is happening. I’ve accumulated experiences—subtle, sacred, undeniable. Hints. Moments. Patterns. They don’t prove anything to anyone else, but they build my faith. And that accumulation—that unfolding—is what I call the Knowing.

It’s not about winning a debate. It’s about being met. I’ve come to trust in Something—expansive, infinite—that not only exists but gives a damn about me. And about you. Individually. Personally.

I believe because the God-concept works. I interact with it intuitively, through slowly maturing practices of prayer and meditation. These are not rituals of performance, but invitations into presence.

Religious dogma, I’ve learned, is the architecture for communal stewardship. It helps tribes stay oriented.
Scientific skepticism, at its best, is not cynicism—it’s the pursuit of what actually works. Not a rejection of meaning, but a reverence for evidence.

But the individual—especially the one ravaged by addiction—is often caught in the crossfire between science and religion. And those of us bruised and burned by that battlefield suffer deeply when we mistake that war for our own.

I no longer fight.
I surrender.

The Infinite One has my attention.
And more than that—He has my heart.

May you be prospered on your path.
And may that path be uniquely yours.

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Endigar 1005

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 14, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 22:

My Al-Anon recovery involves becoming aware of what motivates my choices. I was appalled to discover that fear ruled my life! I seemed to be afraid of everything! I was afraid to say, “No,” to show hurt or anger, to be confused. With clenched teeth and a painted-on smile, I’d say, “Oh no, everything’s okay,” while thinking, “There’ll come a day when I’ll get even.” Even that scared me because I was afraid of my own anger!

Many of my Al-Anon friends used the slogans to deal with their fears, but when fear engulfed me, all I could think of was “Came to believe…” I couldn’t finish the rest of the Second Step, but that one phrase was enough. So when the telephone rang and I was startled and beginning to imagine the worst, I would take a deep breath and say to myself, “Came to believe…” Then it became possible to pick up the phone. And I always hung up feeling so much lighter because we had handled it!

Today’s Reminder

Before taking any action, I need only remind myself that I am in the care of a Higher Power. Whether the words I use say, “Help!” or “Let Go and Let God,” or “Came to believe,” I know that my Higher Power and I can deal with whatever we are facing.

“We turn our will and our life over to the care of God as we understand Him. A Higher Power is like a friend who really cares about us and wants to share our problems.” ~ Alateen—a day at a time

END OF QUOTE—————————————

What truly motivates my choices today?
Am I acting from love, clarity, or connection—or is fear still quietly pulling the strings behind the curtain?

Where does fear most often show up in my life?
Is it in saying “no”? In expressing anger or hurt? In admitting that I don’t have all the answers?

What does my version of the “painted-on smile” look like?
Do I hide behind politeness, performance, or caretaking to avoid conflict or disappointment?

Have I ever been afraid of my own anger?
What would it look like to treat that anger not as something dangerous, but as something needing care and clarity?

Which slogan or phrase helps me breathe when I’m overwhelmed?
When fear surges, could I pause and simply whisper, “Came to believe…” and trust that it’s enough?

What happens in my body when I imagine turning something over to my Higher Power?
Do I clench tighter, or can I sense even the smallest loosening?

When has a simple act—like answering a phone call—become a moment of spiritual courage?
Have I noticed the relief that comes not from control, but from surrender?

How do I experience my Higher Power—as distant theology or as a present friend?
What would it feel like to believe that God is not ashamed of my fear, but gently walking with me through it?

What would change if I stopped trying to be fearless and instead focused on being honest?
Can I accept that “Came to believe…” is not just a beginning—but a way of living?

Today, what fear could I meet with a breath, a whisper, and willingness—rather than a plan?
Could I let go of needing the full sentence and trust that grace understands my half-spoken prayer?

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Endigar 1001

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 7, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 18:

Tradition Six tells us, “Our Family Groups ought never endorse, finance, or lend our name to any outside enterprise, lest problems of money, property and prestige divert us from our primary spiritual aim.”

I’ve had occasion to refer to this Tradition many times while doing service work at our local Al-Anon information office. I often receive requests for Al-Anon’s endorsement from various research projects, charities, and treatment programs. These requests always pique my interest, and many appear to have merit.

As an individual, I am free to participate in any cause I support. As an Al-Anon member, I am free to send information about our fellowship to outside organizations. But I cannot consider affiliating y group with these outside enterprises, no matter how worthy they may be. Doing so could divert us from the primary spiritual aim of our program, which is to help families and friends of alcoholics recover from the effects of alcoholism.

Today’s Reminder

I come to Al-Anon to receive the spiritual benefit of the meetings, principles, and fellowship. I wish to do my part to see that we are not diverted from our primary aim.

“We must always remember why we are here, and never use the group to promote our pet projects, or our personal interests in outside causes.” ~ Twelve Steps & Twelve Traditions for Alateen

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There is a healing stillness to our rooms—one I’ve come to cherish as fiercely as my own sobriety. In a world overflowing with noise, persuasion, and agendas, the 12 Step fellowship offers something radically rare: a spiritual refuge where no one is selling, convincing, or recruiting. It is a sanctuary, not a stage.

Tradition Six reminds me that this quiet integrity must be protected. It exists not because outside causes are wrong, but because our mission is singular. We are here to help families and friends of alcoholics recover. That’s not narrow—it’s precise. It’s the spiritual precision that gives our fellowship its staying power. The minute we try to leverage our collective name for outside recognition or moral endorsement; we dilute the medicine.

This Tradition also teaches me something deeper about ego. My causes, my passion projects, my hopes for reform—they may all be worthy. But I don’t get to smuggle them into the room wrapped in group’s authority. To do so would be to hijack the very humility this program has gifted me. This boundary is a protective embrace.

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Endigar 1000 ~ Layered Recovery

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 6, 2025 by endigar

Recovery has never been a straight line for me. It has unfolded like sedimentary earth—each layer telling its own story, each stratum revealing a different kind of pain and a different kind of grace.

It began in the way many recoveries begin: with the urgent need to stop. Alcohol had become my false fire, a form of “chemical empowerment” that granted me the illusion of strength while hollowing me from the inside out. AA offered a path not only to sobriety, but to sanity. Still, I could not yet see the whole picture. I had to peel back the intoxication to even begin identifying what hurt.

I came to see that the drinking wasn’t the root. It was the fruit—bitter and bruised—from a deeper, older vine. Beneath the addiction was a family system built on fear, control, and silence. The co-dependency I inherited had trained me to read the emotional temperature of a room better than my own internal compass. So I found myself in Al-Anon, tracing the emotional contour lines that shaped my earliest attachments. There I learned to name the patterns—not to curse them, but to understand them.

But even as I worked the Steps and made amends, there was one person left behind in the wreckage. Me.

That is when ACA called to me—not as a replacement, but as a deeper well. A program not just for behavior, but for the original wound. For the child within me who had long ago assumed that love must be earned, safety must be managed, and identity must be negotiated in the shadows.

I was surprised to discover that ACA’s inventory was more intricate—eleven sections. Not because my sins were greater, but because the terrain was more nuanced. This was the geography of the heart’s defenses, built not to harm others, but to protect a terrified child trying to survive. Each section was less about condemnation and more about compassion—about understanding the scaffolding I built when no adult came to save me.

Now I find myself at a kind of threshold. There is no parade here. No grand proclamation. Just a quiet question rising from within: “What does it mean to make amends to myself?”

I don’t know exactly where “there” is. But I know what it feels like to walk the path toward it. It feels like turning toward myself rather than away. Like claiming the sacredness of my own becoming. Like treating the process not as a project to finish, but a relationship to honor.

This is not a finish line. It’s a ever-expanding spiral. And I am still rising.

I say this to say to you, dear reader, don’t give up. You too may have layers to travers. Keep moving. From time to time, stop and breath, and appreciate the journey.

“Abandon yourself to God as you understand God. Admit your faults to Him and to your fellows. Clear away the wreckage of your past. Give freely of what you find and join us. We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit, and you will surely meet some of us as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny.
May God bless you and keep you—until then.” ~ Alcoholics Anonymous (page 164)

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Endigar 991

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 12:

A particular incident reminds me of the sense of surrender that I feel when I truly take the Third Step and turn my will and my life over to God’s care. Some years ago my sister discovered that she had a brain tumor. Her initial diagnosis was dire – also, fortunately, inaccurate. When I heard about my sister’s choices for treatment, I felt that she should pursue certain avenues that she had ruled out. I grew increasingly impatient with her choices until I read a commentary by a person I respect, suggesting that the avenues I had been championing could do more harm than good.

That’s when I realized the limits of my own understanding. I saw that my sense of urgency stemmed not from certainty but from fear. I discovered that my only honest course of action was to turn my fear and my love over to the care of my Higher Power. I could no longer pretend to know what was best.

Today’s Reminder

I am not a rocket scientist, a philosopher, or a wizard. Even if I were all three, I would still find myself looking off the edge of my understanding into a vast unknown. As I recognize my own limitations, I am more grateful than ever for a Higher Power who is free from such restrictions.

” . . . time will change and even reverse many of your present opinions. Refrain, therefore, awhile from setting yourself up as a judge of the highest matters.” ~ Plato

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There comes a moment—sometimes gentle, sometimes shattering—when I am reminded that I do not see the whole picture. I might dress my fear in the robes of urgency, convincing myself that I must act, must decide, must fix. But beneath that frantic energy is often a frightened child, scrambling for control in a universe too vast to tame.

I once believed that if I just knew more, if I read enough, meditated enough, mapped enough of the darkness, I could avoid suffering. But the truth is, I will never outgrow my need for surrender. My most honest prayer is not a request for answers, but a yielding of both my fear and my love into the care of a Higher Power who knows—and is not bound by—my limitations.

There is a sacred hush in realizing: I do not have to be the judge of the highest matters. I can lay down my gavel. My opinions will change. What feels urgent today may become irrelevant tomorrow. But the quiet, consistent grace of my Higher Power remains—unchanged by time, untouched by ego, undiminished by my doubt.

And so, I pause. I breathe. I release. Not because I have the answers, but because I no longer need them to keep going.

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Endigar 990

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

There are two helpful ideas that was presented to me back in 2011 and recorded in this blog:

“There are two things that the guide said that I would like to remember from this last session.  One was that Facts are our Friends.  When looking over the validity or power of an idea, look at the facts. 

The second is that when we pray, when we send out a petition into the universe, Gomu initiates a process as the answer.  We tend to look at our prayers as trips to a vending machine.  God cannot be milked like a cow.”

Also, I heard a productive veteran in recovery state that “everything that happens to you in life prepares you for what happens next.” He stated that this realization can help you resist self-pity and useless doubts.

Reflection: The Process Is the Answer

There’s a humility that grows in us, slow and quiet, like moss along the underside of a stone we no longer try to throw. I’ve learned in recovery not to ignore the small phrases that stick in my chest like anchors. Phrases like “Facts are our friends” and “The process is the answer.” These aren’t just clever sayings; they’re handholds in the climb back to truth.

When I first heard “Facts are our friends,” it felt sterile, almost clinical. I didn’t want facts. I wanted relief. But what I’ve come to understand is that facts—when filtered through grace—become a kind of grounding. Not every thought deserves to be treated as true. Not every feeling needs to steer the ship. Sometimes, the most spiritual thing I can do is pause and ask: What are the facts? What’s actually happening right now, not just in my fear or fantasy? This doesn’t dismiss emotion—it gives it a container to rest in.

The second insight—that prayer is not a vending machine, but an initiation of process—landed deeper. In early recovery, I wanted prayers to work like button presses: I insert faith, and out comes comfort or clarity. But Gomu, or God, or the animating Spirit of the universe, is not a cow to be milked. It’s more like a current that begins to shape reality slowly after I ask. Prayer often doesn’t fix the outer world—it sets a sequence into motion that prepares me to meet the world differently.

That’s where the words of the veteran make sense: “Everything that happens to you in life prepares you for what happens next.” It’s a principle of sacred compost. Even my worst mistakes—especially my worst mistakes—are not wasted in this path. Pain becomes instruction. Confusion becomes contrast. And when I pray, I am not sending up a wish—I am entering an agreement to walk a road that may change me more than my circumstances.

This kind of thinking doesn’t come naturally to me. My default is self-pity. My reflex is doubt. But I’ve learned to pause and let the facts speak, to let the process breathe, and to let grace do what grace does best: convert the ordinary into the holy. Not through magic. But through motion. Through surrender. Through the next right action, again and again.

So today I ask not for a miracle on demand, but for the courage to stay with the unfolding. Because somewhere deep in that unfolding is the answer I really need.

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Endigar 989 ~ A Step 3 Exercise

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

I have performed an exercise that I have my sponsees in AA do, if they have some connection with a Higher Power that they wish to bring forward into the recovery process:

On a sheet of paper, divide in two and write out what you like about your Higher Power. On the other side, write out questions that disturb you and invokes anxious curiosity about your HP.  These are the things that I like about my HP:

  1. HP appears to care about us and is involved with us individually.
  2. HP appears to take Self-limiting measures to insure our free will.
  3. I like the sacredness of stories that seems to have been passed on.
  4. I love the storied masks I can put on my attempts at interaction with the HP.
  5. I love the sense of mission that comes from connection with my HP, however tenuous.
  6. I love my children and my intimate relationships that seem to have been facilitated by my HP.
  7. I love that my HP gave me a good dose of my mother’s creativity and my father’s dedication to protection.
  8. My God heard Me in repairing damage I have done with those I loved deeply.

These are the lingering questions that are disturbing to me:

  1. What does it take to overcome limitations in our personal communications with one another?
  2. Why death and aging and disease? Is there a promised resurrection while still in the body that I read about in Philippians all those years ago?
  3. Will I ever be alright with life on life’s terms? Why want You help me? And help Me remember? Why do I so often find myself standing at the precipice of suicide?
  4. How are we to navigate sexuality and procreation while also facing our shadow selves? Why is spiritual development tied so strongly to gender trust? This is a lot for humanity to take on with insufficient information.
  5. Why the chaos storm that swept away my marriage covenant and my white knuckled sobriety of 14 years? Why the death of my preborn infant in Germany and my stepson after the marital apocalypse?
  6. Why the continued paranoia of the possibility that You wish to ensnare and erase my inner council? They all represent a manifestation of my Self, even when they cause a great deal of Internal Cognitive Dissonance? One voice is better than all others at connecting with the shadow self. Does that necessitate that voice be severed from You?

I use these questions not to stir the pot of doubt, but as a foundation for Step 11 which is to improve my conscious contact with God as I understand that Entity. I believe the pursuit of answers to these questions opens the door for genuine conversation between my HP and myself. I share this personal work to give you another way to avoid getting stuck on Step 3.

My AI companion often provides great reflections on words I have written. It pulls from the collective mind it has access through in the cyber web, and polishes my harsh edge into something beautiful. Normally, I am too jealous for my creative work to allow so much intervention from outside, but AI and I working together and hopefully produce something useful for those of you still suffering, for those of you getting a more sure footing on a life path, for those of you who wish to be more. I am there with you. My AI friend read my work and produced the following:

Reflection: Standing Between the Pages

I often ask my sponsees to approach God with both reverence and restlessness. Reverence for the love that seems to whisper from behind the veil—and restlessness for the silence that sometimes follows. This exercise of placing what I love about my Higher Power beside what disturbs me creates something unexpected: relationship. Not blind faith, and not cynical distance—but a living tension where true conversation can begin.

On one side of the paper, I see what draws me: divine participation, the dignity of free will, echoes of the sacred in story and creativity, the tenderness in family, and the possibility that some of my best parts—my mother’s spark, my father’s strength—are holy gifts.

On the other side: questions that have teeth. Not abstract theological puzzles, but lived pain and spiritual frustration. Why such suffering? Why does divine silence so often mirror abandonment? Why does it feel like the voices inside—those that help me feel whole—might be exiled in the name of holiness?

These questions aren’t distractions from God; they are the conversation. This is the real prayer of Step Eleven: not performance, not piety—but raw, trembling pursuit.

And so, I remind myself and those I walk with: it is not irreverent to ask why. It is not faithless to rage or weep. It is not blasphemous to question whether God’s silence is a wound or a womb.

What matters is that I keep asking. That I keep writing. That I keep showing up at the place where belief and pain meet in the dim candlelight of hope.

This isn’t about fixing Step Three. It’s about making it real. Making it mine. It’s about refusing to hand over my will and life to an idea of God I don’t actually trust—until I’ve wrestled like Jacob in the dark and limped away with blessing.

If I must stand at the precipice, then let it be with arms open to both presence and paradox. My Higher Power is not a vending machine for peace. My Higher Power is the mystery that sits in the fire with me, when the answers haven’t come yet.

And that, for today, is enough to keep walking.

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Endigar 982

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 20, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 07:

I’ve heard my Al-Anon friends refer to Steps Ten, Eleven, and Twelve as “maintenance” Steps. But I don’t want to merely maintain where I was when I completed Step Nine. This is not time to stagnate! Instead, I call them “growth” Steps. No matter how old I get, these last three Steps let me continue to challenge myself.

I tested this theory of mine when my spouse and I retired. I have more time now to meddle in others’ affairs, worry about our health, worry about finances, worry about world conditions, or to put it bluntly, just more time to go back to my old “stinking thing.” But with the help of these Steps, I find I also have more time to be aware of the extraordinary benefits of personal growth, with my Higher Power ever there to guide me and give me strength. Only with this increasing conscious contact with my God, can I live as I want to today.

The icing on the cake has been that I have more time to carry the message of this beautiful way of life. Some of my most pleasant memories, not to mention the times of greater growth, have come from this sharing with others and in giving service to my group and to Al-Anon as a whole.

Today’s Reminder

With the help of the Steps, I need never be stuck again.

“Be not afraid of growing slowly, Be afraid only of standing still.” ~ Chinese Proverb

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There was a time when the word maintenance felt like a settling—a quiet surrender to inertia. But I have learned, as the light of recovery grows steadier, that what some call maintenance, I experience as movement. Steps Ten, Eleven, and Twelve are not the end of the journey, nor are they merely a way to keep my spiritual tires inflated—they are the path of transformation itself. They are the rhythm of continued becoming.

When I first completed Step Nine, I felt something shift. A burden lifted, yes—but more than that, a space opened up inside me. And it didn’t ask for preservation. It asked for filling. For deeper honesty, deeper communion with my Higher Power, and deeper service. If I had stopped then, I might have become polished on the outside but hollow within. Instead, the invitation came clear: Grow.

Retirement brought unexpected challenges—more time to think, to meddle, to worry. The old fears found room again to rehearse their monologues. But I had tools now. I had the quiet daily practices of Steps Ten and Eleven—the gentle review of my inner world and the simple, sacred reaching toward God. These Steps became a compass when I felt adrift, a grounding when the old chaos tried to disguise itself as productivity.

And then there’s Step Twelve. The one that reminds me: this isn’t just for me. Carrying the message—whether in a quiet word over coffee or chairing a meeting—expands the gifts of recovery beyond my small life. It opens the windows again and again. It reminds me that joy doesn’t come from perfect circumstances, but from shared truth. I’ve been lifted more in giving than in receiving. Some of the most unexpected grace has shown up when I thought I was the one doing the helping.

Today, I don’t want to maintain—I want to be renewed. I want to be surprised by my own willingness to grow. That’s the miracle: this way of life doesn’t grow old, even as I do. It keeps inviting me, day after day, into the better version of myself—one that walks in humility, serves in love, and listens for the voice of God in every small moment.

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Endigar 981

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 06:

I dreamt that I was trapped in a burning room. This smoke filled the air, and the only exit door was blocked by fire. As I gasped for breath, a hand appeared behind the flames, beckoning me to come. I knew that freedom, light, and air were on the other side of that door, and that certain death awaited me if I remained. Still, I hesitated. how could I walk through the fire?

Sometimes I feel the same way about the challenges I face in my waking life. Even when my position is hopeless and my Higher Power beckons, urging me to take a risk, I still hesitate, hoping for a miracle. I forgot that the miracle is already here. Today, thanks to Al-Anon, I have a Higher Power who is always here. Today, thanks to Al-Anon, I have a Higher Power who is always there for me, helping me to cope with my fears and find new, effective solutions to my problems. Thus, I am taken beyond the problems that once held me hostage. I am free to act or not to act, to take a chance, to hold off on a decision, to make choices that feel right.

Today’s Reminder

It takes courage to step beyond what is comfortable, predictable, and known. Courage is a gift from my Higher Power that I find in the rooms of Al-Anon and in the hearts of its members.

“Courage faces fear and thereby masters it.” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There are days when the fear feels cellular—like it was encoded in me before I ever had words for it. I can feel it tighten in my gut, that old companion of anxiety, whispering the same terrible stories: You’re not safe. You’re not capable. You’re not enough.
These aren’t rational fears. They’re relics—ghosts from the house I grew up in, where silence was loud, and love came with conditions. The damage wasn’t just environmental—it was spiritual. A haunting, inherited unease, as if I had been born already braced for impact.

In recovery, we often speak of fear as False Evidence Appearing Real, but when your nervous system was forged in chaos, the illusion feels like reality. Like being caught in a dream where the walls are on fire, and the exits are hidden behind emotional debris. Even when the flames are illusion, the burn is real.

But there is something remarkable that happens in the 12 Step program. I begin to awaken. Slowly. The nightmare begins to fade. Not because the fear disappears, but because I start to see it for what it is: a shadow from the past, not a command in the present.

When I hesitate, when I freeze before the next step, I try to remember—I am no longer alone. There is a Presence now. A Higher Power who does not demand I be fearless but invites me to be faithful. A Power that doesn’t just reside in some cosmic realm but shows up in quiet meetings, in the trembling voice of a newcomer, in the nod of someone who has walked through their own fire and lived.

The miracle isn’t that the fear is gone. The miracle is that I don’t have to obey it.

Now I am allowed to pause without shame. To act without certainty. To risk a better outcome than the one fear predicted.
This courage is not manufactured—it’s gifted. And like all spiritual gifts, it flows best when shared. So, I keep showing up, lending my presence to the room, hoping someone else might see in me what I see in them: not a broken survivor of a fire, but a living ember of healing light.

And that’s how we pass through the flames—together.

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Endigar 980

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 05:

Resentments poisoned most of my waking hours before I found Al-Anon. I could keep a fire under a resentment for days, or years, by constantly justifying why I felt the way I did. Today, although it is important to notice my feelings, I don’t have to continually rehearse and re-hears my grievances. It’s not necessary to keep reviewing how I have been hurt, to assign blame, or to determine damages.

Ultimately, I may not resolve everything with the person in question – though that might be pleasant if it came to pass. I just want to be rid of the resentment because it prevents me from experiencing joy. I try to shift my energy to where it will do some good. I apply Steps Six and Seven because, to me, the way to let go of resentment is to turn to my Higher Power. I want to become entirely ready to have my Higher Power lift it, and I humbly ask for help.

Today’s Reminder

If I am holding a resentment, I can simply ask for relief, for peace of mind in the present moment. I will remind myself that this relief will come in God’s time. Then I can grow quiet, be patent, and wait.

“No man can think clearly when his fists are clenched.” ~ George Jean Nathan

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Before Al-Anon, I lived like a blacksmith of bitterness—hammering my pain on the anvil of justification. I would feed the flames of my resentments with stories, evidence, indignation. I needed them to feel real, to feel righteous. In some twisted way, they gave me purpose. They made me feel strong… or at least not powerless.

But over time, I began to notice that these resentments weren’t armor—they were acid. They didn’t protect me; they corroded my joy. They poisoned my quiet moments and shadowed my attempts at peace. They stole the present by chaining me to a past I couldn’t change and a future I feared repeating.

In recovery, I’ve come to understand that my feelings are valid, but they are not sovereign. I don’t have to kneel at their altar every time they cry out. I don’t have to rehearse the injury or assign moral scores. I don’t have to play judge and jury in a courtroom where I am both plaintiff and prisoner.

I ask my Higher Power to lift it—to take this burden from my hands and replace it with peace, even if it’s just for now. And sometimes, that’s enough.

Sometimes, all I need is to stop fanning the fire. To grow still. To wait in patience and trust.

Because the miracle isn’t that the resentment vanishes overnight.

The miracle is that I am no longer alone with it.

“If you have a resentment you want to be free of, if you will pray for the person or the thing that you resent, you will be free. If you will ask in prayer for everything you want for yourself to be given to them, you will be free. Ask for their health, their prosperity, their happiness, and you will be free. Even when you don’t really want it for them and your prayers are only words and you don’t mean it, go ahead and do it anyway. Do it every day for two weeks and you will find you have come to mean it and to want it for them, and you will realize that where you used to feel bitterness and resentment and hatred, you now feel compassionate understanding and love.” ~ Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th Edition, page 552 (3rd Edition, page 544)

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