Daily Reprieve

The quoting of Aldous Huxley in the Courage to Change for August 3rd reminded me of a very interesting book I read a little while back:

I recommend it as a good read and I also believe there is great promise in psychedelics taken in quest mode, with a way of recording the visions and insights that come from the experience. Such written take-aways from the protected experience can then be used as after-work with many years of development before delving into the experience again.

My own belief is that, though they may start by being something of an embarrassment, these new mind changers (psychedelic drugs) will tend in the long run to deepen the spiritual life of the communities in which they are available…From being an activity mainly concerned with symbols, religion will be transformed into an activity concerned mainly with experience and intuition. ~ Aldous Huxley, 1958

First, there are the colors and the beauties and designs and the way things appear. But that’s just the beginning. At some point you notice that there aren’t these separations that we normally feel. We are not on some separate island — shouting across and trying to hear what each other are saying. Suddenly you know. You know empathy. It’s flowing underneath us. We are parts of a common continent that meets underneath the water. And with that comes such delight – the sober certainty of waking bliss.” ~ Gerald Heard, 1956

I am certain that the LSD experience has helped me very much. I find myself with a heightened color perception and an appreciation of beauty almost destroyed by my years of depression…The sensation that the partition between “here” and “there” has become very thin is constantly with me. ~ Bill Wilson, 1957

There is a sacred difference between escape and exploration.

For much of my life, I sought relief — not insight. I reached for comfort, not communion. But the journey of recovery has taught me that the real treasure isn’t in the euphoria of forgetting — it’s in the courage to remember. To sit with what is. To ask what it means.

That’s why the idea of psychedelics taken in “quest mode” resonates not as a contradiction to recovery, but as a potential deepening of it — when done with intention, protection, and reverence. Not as a drug to alter mood, but as a key to a door locked within the self. And once opened, what matters is not the vision itself, but the work that follows. The journaling. The integration. The building of a bridge between the subconscious and the everyday.

As Aldous Huxley foresaw, maybe the real promise of these sacraments is that they bring religion down from the pulpit and back into the body — into lived, felt, undeniable experience. When symbol gives way to direct communion, what once felt like dogma begins to pulse like music. Like meaning.

Gerald Heard’s words land like a remembering: we are not separate. Not really. The veil thins, and with it, our armor. In that space, empathy is no longer a theory — it’s a sensation, a current we belong to. That kind of knowing can’t be undone. It becomes part of the inner world we bring to every conversation, every encounter.

And then there is Bill W. — co-founder of our spiritual lifeline — humbly affirming that even after sobriety, there remained layers of perception long dulled by the slow corrosion of depression. His words are not a call to use, but a call to listen — to the possibilities of healing, to the thin places between worlds.

For me, I have no need to “get high.” That path was well-trodden, and it nearly destroyed me. But the idea of getting open — even just a little more — to the Divine, to inner truth, to wonder — that feels aligned with the Eleventh Step: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him.

If another seeker finds their contact improved through a carefully prepared sacramental experience — and they return with notes from the other side that help them walk with more grace and clarity here — I will not call that sin. I may call it sacred.

This is not advocacy. It’s inquiry. It’s humility. It’s staying open.

And it’s remembering that anything powerful — even a mushroom — must be held with reverence, not recklessness.

I welcome the testimonies of others, not to validate my view, but to expand my perspective. We’re not meant to walk this road alone. And sometimes, even the most unlikely companions — whether books, chemicals, or visions — can help guide the next right step.

But the journey? That’s ours. One sober, sacred day at a time.

NOTE: If you are a newcomer, do not explore this until you are actually at Step 11. And then take care to protect your activity legally, and make sure that you are open with your Sponsor and Safety Net about it to help maintain vigilance against the disease.

From Courage to Change of Aug 03:

There was a time in my life when I furiously insisted that alcoholism did not exist in my family. We were normal; everything was fine! Today I know that alcoholism is a family disease that affects not only the drinkers but those around them as well. Denial is a symptom of this family disease.

When I began to recognize the alcoholism in my family, my unfortunate past became the topic of all my conversations. Then an Al-Anon member shared about having learned to look back without staring. She pointed out how easy it can be to lose perspective, to feel trapped, to stop living in the present. Unlocking the secrets of the past can offer many gifts, but the purpose of this search is to recover from the effects of alcoholism and get on with our lives here and now.

Today, with the love, support, and encouragement of Al-Anon members, I am able to face the reality of the past, not to place blame or wallow in self-pity but to learn from it.

Today’s Reminder

There is much to learn from the past, but I cannot allow past hurts to smolder and destroy today. Instead, I can ask my Higher Power to help me use my experiences to move forward and to make healthier, more loving choices than ever before.

“Experience is not what happens to you, it is what you do with what happens to you.” ~ Aldous Huxley

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There was a time when I refused to see the truth. I denied the impact of alcoholism in my family, convincing myself that we were like any other family; maybe even a little better than most with our devotion to our religious pursuits. This denial was my shield, my armor against the discomfort of facing the reality that the disease of alcoholism had woven itself into the very fabric of our lives. But denial is its own disease, one that distorts the present and distorts our sense of self, preventing us from fully embracing the truth of who we are.

When the veil of denial began to lift about religious – family mantras, I was forced to confront not just the disease, but its deep-rooted impact on every aspect of my family. It felt as if every conversation I had was consumed by the weight of the past, as if the shadow of alcoholism loomed over everything I said and did. I like the concept of Look back, but don’t stare. This simple yet profound insight reminds me that while the past holds valuable lessons, it is not where I live anymore.

I learned that the past is a teacher, not a prison. There is so much to glean from the experiences we’ve lived through—the pain, the chaos, the confusion—but if I allow those memories to take over, they rob me of today. The purpose of my journey isn’t to dwell in regret or to fixate on blame. It’s to heal, to understand, and to move forward into the life that is here and now.

I see now that experience is not merely the things that happen to me. It is what I do with those things. It is how I allow them to transform me, how I choose to respond with grace, how I choose to move forward and not be trapped by what’s behind me. Today, I no longer need to stare at the past. Today, I am learning to walk into the future with hope and faith, knowing that my past does not define me—it refines me.