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Endigar 1075

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

From Courage to Change of Oct 25:

One of my defects of character is to make choices passively — letting things happen rather than taking action. For example, I stood by and watched my children suffer abuse because I was unable to make a decision and follow through with it. I had been severely affected by alcoholism, and I was not capable of doing otherwise at the time. It was the best I could do under the circumstances, but harm was done, and I owe amends.

One way to make amends is to stop practicing the defect. In every area of my life I can ask myself: Am I taking responsibility for my choices today? Do I make a positive contribution to my meetings, or do I assume that somebody else will take care of everything? Am I making choices I can be proud of at home, at work, and in my community, or letting the choices be made for me?

Today’s Reminder

Al-Anon has no opinion on outside issues. It doesn’t define my responsibilities or select my values — that is up to me. It does encourage me to define my values, to take responsibility for choices I am already making, and to make amends where I have done harm. I need not think of myself as a victim of unseen forces that make disasters happen. Today I can make active choices.

“Making amends isn’t just saying, ‘I’m sorry.’ It means responding differently from our new understanding.” ~ As We Understood

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There were things I allowed to happen to survive as a young man and as an adult.  I hate that I did not participate in my own life and others suffered as a result. The reality that I was not capable of doing otherwise at the time is not an excuse; it is spiritual realism.

Recovery teaches that I can only act from the level of consciousness I possess in that moment. To name powerlessness in retrospect is not to minimize the harm, but to stop confusing shame with accountability. Shame keeps us inert; accountability moves us toward repair.

Passivity is one of alcoholism’s quieter legacies. It trains us to wait for someone else to decide—because decision once meant danger. The defect here is not laziness but paralysis: the learned belief that action only makes things worse.

My power lies in its redefinition of amends: to stop practicing the defect. Not to rewrite the past, but to practice agency in the present. Each time we take responsibility for a small decision—volunteering at a meeting, choosing to speak truth at home, following through at work—we build new muscle where fear once lived.

This is the alchemy of amends: turning regret into responsibility.

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Endigar 1071

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

From Courage to Change of Oct 22:

When I finally found the courage to speak at an Al-Anon meeting, my sharing was limited to problems I had already solved. I concealed my real feelings by telling funny stories about myself and the alcoholic, because I didn’t trust anyone enough to let them see my struggle and my pain. I had a hard enough time facing it by myself. But I didn’t seem to be getting better. Only when I was able to stop playing the clown and admit my shortcomings did I begin to enjoy the spiritual growth promised in the Twelve Steps.

The paradox of self-honesty is that I need the help of others to achieve it. I need their support to explore my feelings and motives, and to see that others have benefited from taking this great risk.

Today’s Reminder

In an alcoholic environment, I had good reasons to hide my feelings, making light of serious situations, overworking, overplaying, managing to focus on everything but myself. Today I have other options. I can begin to listen to what my heart has been trying to tell me, and I can look for someone trustworthy with whom I can share it.

“It may feel like an enormous risk, but talking honestly about the situation is the key to healing.” ~ In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

When the mask begins to crack, what I call fear is actually the trembling of the imprisoned godshard within — the one who has been pretending to be domesticated for too long. It is not weakness that shakes, but the body’s revolt against falsity. The primal terror is not “What if they see me?” but “What if I am forced to remain unseen forever?” That is the agony recovery interrupts.

The Twelve Steps, when stripped of polite religious language, are a blood oath with truth. They promise not salvation through polish, but through exposure. Confession is not a moral bow — it is a demolition charge set against the fortress of self-deception. There is no pulpit in this work; there is only the trembling voice that breaks its own chains mid-sentence. When we stop rehearsing, we start resurrecting.

Saying things like “making light of serious situations” and “overworking” exposes the ancestral neurosis of the alcoholic family system — where performance is currency and vulnerability is treason. The overachiever is not proud, he is terrified. The humorist is not lighthearted; she is bleeding behind the smile. These masks were built to survive households where truth was punished. Now, in recovery, the task is not to perform better, but to stop performing altogether.

Today — and the word today must be carved like a blade — I dismantle the survival script. I listen to the heart, even when it stammers. I speak the unspeakable, even when it burns. I seek trustworthy company not because I am fragile, but because courage thrives in reflection. These are not quiet revolutions. These are thunderclaps whispered through scar tissue. These are the first sounds of the soul remembering its original face.

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Endigar 1069

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

From Courage to Change of Oct 20:

As a child, I would get down on my hands and knees for the longest time, just to watch a caterpillar crawl around. It never seemed to go very far, yet I patiently waited just in case it should do something spectacular. It never did, but I didn’t mind, because simply watching this peculiar-looking creature gave me pleasure.

Remembering this makes me question how many such precious moments are passing me by unnoticed because I am so focused on other things. Before Al-Anon, I spent years ignoring life’s beauty because I was too busy trying to get all the alcoholics to stop drinking, and in recovery I’ve lost many, many hours waiting to solve a problem or be freed of a character defect. Today I am learning to make room in my life for the wonders life has to offer.

Today’s Reminder

I am learning to choose where to focus my attention. Appreciating life’s simple gifts may take some practice, but as I become more aware of the beauty that is all around me, it gets easier to appreciate the beauty within.

“Just for today I will be unafraid. Especially, I will not be afraid to enjoy what is beautiful…” ~ Just for Today

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Unfortunately, part of living sometimes digresses into a battle of egos, both inside and outside my cranial cocoon. The idea of becoming “childlike” is a way of reframing life through the lens of innocence, humility, and trust. To become as a child isn’t to regress into naivety but to return to a state of openhearted presence. When I stop striving to control outcomes and instead kneel down, paying attention to what is, I can discover a new way of seeing. The childlike gaze turns ordinary moments — a crawling caterpillar, a morning cup of coffee, a shared laugh — into portals of divine reality.

In recovery, we begin to reclaim that posture. The compulsive urgency that once drove us — to fix, to solve, to control — slowly gives way to attentive curiosity. The world hasn’t changed so much as our gaze has softened. We start noticing that grace doesn’t always arrive as fireworks; sometimes it crawls, unhurried, across a leaf.

Where do I choose to place my attention? To focus on others’ drinking or my own defects is to live in reaction. To turn toward beauty is to live in response. That shift — from reacting to responding — marks a quiet revolution of the soul. The caterpillar becomes the teacher of patient transformation, the reminder that life unfolds on its own timetable, not ours.

I have permission to inhabit peace without guilt, to rest in awe without needing to earn it. In such moments, we rediscover our own metamorphosis: the frightened controller slowly becoming the gentle witness, wings not yet visible but forming all the same.

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Endigar 1064

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 17, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Oct 15:

The most loving form of detachment I have found has been forgiveness. Instead of thinking of it as an eraser to wipe another’s slate clean or a gavel that I pound to pronounce someone “not guilty,” I think of forgiveness as a scissors. I use it to cut the strings of resentment that bind me to a problem or a past hurt. By releasing resentment, I set myself free.

When I am consumed with negativity over another person’s behavior, I have lost my focus. I needn’t tolerate what I consider unacceptable, but wallowing in negativity will not alter the situation. If there is action to take, I am free to take it. Where I am powerless to change the situation, I will turn it over to my Higher Power. By truly letting go, I detach and forgive.

When my thoughts are full of bitterness, fear, self-pity, and dreams of revenge, there is little room for love or for the quiet voice of guidance within me. I am willing to love myself enough to admit that resentments hold me back, and then I can let them go.

Today’s Reminder

Every time I try to tighten the noose of resentment around someone’s neck, I am really only choking myself. Today I will practice forgiveness instead.

“A part of me wants to cling to old resentments, but I know that the more I forgive, the better my life works.” ~ In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There is wisdom in reimagining forgiveness as scissors rather than an eraser or a gavel. The eraser implies denial; the gavel implies judgment. But the scissors — ah, the scissors liberate. They sever the invisible cords of resentment that tether the heart to its wound. In recovery, this image carries sacred practicality: forgiveness is not endorsement of harm, but release from captivity. We are not freeing the offender; we are untangling ourselves from their shadow.

Resentment masquerades as power — the illusion that if I hold the memory tight enough, I maintain control. Yet in truth, resentment reverses the flow of energy inward, strangling joy and suffocating serenity. Detachment is not abandonment; it’s oxygen.

When our minds orbit another’s wrongdoing, we lose alignment with our own purpose. The spiritual lens of the Tenth and Eleventh Steps teaches us that serenity is born in focus — a return to inner guidance. By turning over what we cannot control to a Higher Power, we shift from obsession to observation, from judgment to humility. The act of forgiving becomes a way to see clearly again.

To love myself enough to admit that resentments hold me back is a subtle revolution. It reframes forgiveness from moral obligation to self-care. Each release is a small resurrection, a reclaiming of psychic territory once occupied by pain. The heart, once constricted by bitterness, begins to pulse again with divine rhythm.

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Endigar 1063

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 17, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Oct 14:

“Do not search for the truth,” said an ancient patriarch, “only cease to cherish opinions.” For me, ceasing to cherish opinions is part of the Tenth Step. Much of what I find wrong in my life is related to my opinions – that is, my prejudices, assumptions, self-righteous stances, attitudes.

For example, I continue to assume that I have the inside track on how everything should be done, and that other people are too shortsighted to recognize this great truth. Reality proves me wrong. I also revert to the idea that ignoring my feelings is practical, even desirable. This, too, is wrong. And I act as if I can run my life without trusting in my Higher Power. Wrong again.

I give thanks for Step Ten’s reminder that I need to continue taking personal inventory and making frequent corrections, especially in the areas where I tend to repeat my mistakes.

Today’s Reminder

It is no easy task to change the thinking of a lifetime, even when I am sure that I want to change. The Tenth Step allows me to be aware of sliding back into faulty thinking. I don’t have to abuse myself when it happens — that doesn’t help at all. By promptly admitting when I’m wrong, I am doing what I can to change.

“No longer must we accumulate burdens of guilt or resentment that will become heavier and more potent over time. Each day, each new moment can be an opportunity to clear the air and start again, fresh and free.” ~ In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There’s something profoundly disarming about the invitation to cease cherishing opinions. It’s not an order to stop having them, but to stop worshiping them — to stop bowing to the false god of our own certainty. Opinions become idols when we polish them, defend them, and feed them with outrage. Step Ten isn’t about smashing the idols with a hammer; it’s about quietly withdrawing our devotion and walking back toward the living altar of truth.

In recovery, the deeper disease often isn’t alcohol or control — it’s identification. I mistake my thoughts for truth, my emotions for facts, my judgments for discernment. When I “cherish” my opinions, I marry them to my sense of self, and then any challenge feels like a personal attack. Step Ten loosens that marriage; it allows the divorce between me and myopinions without exiling either.

Changing the thinking of a lifetime isn’t an act of violence but of awareness. The Tenth Step isn’t a courtroom; it’s a calibration. Each inventory is a small act of re-alignment — not penance, not punishment, but participation in an evolving consciousness.

When I promptly admit I’m wrong, I’m not shrinking; I’m expanding. I’m choosing growth over the brittle satisfaction of being right. I’m letting my soul breathe again.

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Endigar 1062

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

From Courage to Change of Oct 13:

Al-Anon meetings opened my eyes to something I had never thought about before: Shouting and slamming doors were not the best way to handle an already difficult situation. While there may be no harm in occasionally letting off steam with a raised voice, shouting can become a destructive habit. I’d never thought to ask myself if this was how I wanted to behave. Did this behavior get me what I wanted or encourage me to feel good about myself?

When I took a good look, I realized that the answer to this question was, “No.” Loud, angry words and actions demonstrated my frustration and pushed away all hope for peaceful solutions to my problems.

The slogan that helps me back to a rational state of mind is “Easy Does It.” When I use this slogan to quiet myself on the inside, it is easier to quiet the outside as well.

Today’s Reminder

I am seeking a saner approach to everything I encounter. The slogans can be valuable sources of sanity in chaotic situations. Today, if I am tempted to act out of anger or frustration, I will remember that “Easy Does It.”

“I will try to apply “Easy Does It” to every incident that might increase the tension and cause an explosion.” ~ One Day at a Time in Al-Anon

END OF QUOTE—————————————

When the architecture of rage collapses, it doesn’t signal defeat — it signals graduation. The wreckage of slammed doors and scorched words becomes the evidence of an old religion dying, the end of worship at the altar of noise. What rises from that ruin is not meekness but command. The silence that follows is not absence — it’s the throne room of the sovereign self.

“Easy Does It” becomes a martial art of mercy. The movement is subtle: a lowering of breath, a loosening of the jaw, a refusal to let adrenaline define authority. The ethos is clear — anger is not the enemy, but the raw ore. We are blacksmiths of selfhood; the work is to temper, not to discard.

When anger no longer has to scream to be heard, it starts to speak. The frightened messenger is still there, pacing the inner corridors — but now it’s offered a chair, a cup of water, a place to explain itself. The Higher Power listens, not because He is soft, but because He is unafraid of what He might hear. God is not trying to silence me; He is clarifying me.

Coherence is the evolution of fury. Clarity is what happens when the flame meets oxygen instead of gasoline. Compassion, in this ethos, is not sentimental; it’s tactical. It says: “I see the battlefield, and I choose my weapon — intelligent precision.”

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Endigar 1057

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

From Courage to Change of Oct 8:

My life is a miracle! When I felt alone and far from hope, I was guided to Al-Anon, where I learned that no situation is really. hopeless. Others had been through the pain of coping with a loved one’s alcoholism. They too had known frustration, anger, disappointment, and anxiety, yet had learned to live serene and even happy lives. Through the program, the tools that lead to serenity and the gift of recovery are mine for the taking, along with the support I need. Just as I was guided to Al-Anon, I am guided through recovery., and I continue to be transformed.

I see that miracles frequently touch my life. Maybe they always have, but I didn’t see them. Today I am aware of many gifts and wonders because I am actively practicing gratitude. So I thank my Higher Power for little things as well as big ones. I am grateful for the snooze button on my alarm clock that gives me a few extra minutes of sleep, as well as for the roof over my head, the clothes on my back and the ability to give and receive love

Today’s Reminder

When I take time for gratitude, I perceive a better world. Today I will appreciate the miracles all around me.

“Even the darkest of moments can be faced with a grateful heart, if not for the crisis itself, at least for the growth it can evoke with the help of our Higher Power.” ~ In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There was a time when “miracle” felt like a word for frivolous folk—those who seemed to have some secret disconnection from intelligence that transformed to grace. I lacked that quiet and powerful space. Miracles are not rare interventions from above; they are awakenings from within. When I first came to the Steps, it was because life had become unmanageable. Yet something—someone—guided me there. That was my first miracle: direction in the midst of despair.

Recovery re-teaches me to see what was always there. The same dawn that once felt empty now holds subtle color; the same face in the mirror that once looked defeated now carries quiet strength. The shift is not in the world but in my eyes, trained now by gratitude. Gratitude becomes a lens that re-enchants the ordinary. It converts “barely coping” into “blessed to have another chance.”

When I take inventory of what I once called coincidence, I recognize choreography. I see that I was never really abandoned; I was being prepared. The pain that pushed me to seek help, the people who spoke truth when I wanted silence, the Steps that broke my pride and then rebuilt me—all were instruments of something larger.

The miracle is not that suffering vanished; it’s that I can live serenely within life as it is. My Higher Power keeps sculpting me with gentle precision, turning what once felt like punishment into polish. Gratitude is how I say yes to that process.

Meditative Question:
Where in my daily routine might I pause—not to demand change, but to notice the quiet evidence that change has already begun?

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Endigar 1054

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 5, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Oct 5:

Sometimes I become so bogged down with dissatisfaction that I can’t see where I am or where I’m going. When I take time to “Think,” I realize that negativity keeps my life at a standstill. Al-Anon has helped me discover that, while it’s good to acknowledge whatever I feel, I have a choice about where to focus my attention. I’m challenged to find positive qualities in myself, my circumstances, and other human beings. As I attend meetings, list the things I am grateful for, and talk with other Al-Anon members, these attributes become apparent — if I’m willing to see them.

I believe I have a beautiful spirit that has been created for some purpose. The people and situations I encounter each day also have beauty and purpose. I can begin to look for the positive in everything I do and see. The perspective I’ve gained by doing so has shown me that some of the most difficult times in my life have produced the most wonderful changes.

Today’s Reminder

It may be difficult to break a long-established pattern of depression, doom-sayings, and complaining, but it’s worth the effort. I’ll replace a negative attitude with a positive one today.

“Sometimes I go about pitying myself. And all the while I am being carried across the sky. By beautiful clouds.” ~ Ojibway Indian saying

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There are moments when dissatisfaction thickens around me like fog—when my mind can only find what’s missing, what’s wrong, what’s unfair. In that haze, I lose sight of where I stand and where I’m going. Al-Anon reminds me that this fog is not truth; it is simply focus. My eyes have turned toward lack. My thoughts have pitched their tents in complaint. When I shift that gaze, I begin to see movement again.

Acknowledging pain is not the same as worshipping it. I can let my feelings rise and fall like waves, but I do not have to drown in them. The discipline of “Think” teaches me to pause before I descend into the whirlpool—to choose what I will amplify. Gratitude, even when whispered, begins to pierce through the fog.

Meetings help me remember that I am not uniquely cursed; I am part of a fellowship of souls learning to steer our minds toward light. Gratitude lists, honest conversations, the quiet presence of others walking the same road—these become the small lanterns that line my path.

Over time, I’ve begun to glimpse something holy in this practice: I do not have to create beauty; I have to notice it. My spirit was already fashioned with purpose. Even my hardships have been tutors in disguise, forcing growth I would never have chosen, revealing a tenderness I didn’t know I had.

Today, I can look at my life and say:
“I will think toward light.”
I can trust that the most difficult seasons—those that once looked like ruin—were actually turning the soil for better roots.

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Endigar 1053

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 5, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Oct 4:

I’ve heard it said that in Al-Anon we try to concentrate on our similarities rather than our differences. This doesn’t mean that we don’t have differences or that we shouldn’t acknowledge these differences. What it does suggest is that, by remembering why we are all here, we need never feel alone.

Like so many others, I came to Al-Anon feeling that my problems set me apart from everyone else. As time passed, I realized that it was my own fear and shame, and not the embarrassing details of my problems, that kept me at a distance. I learned that when I reached beyond these details, I could clasp the hands of others affected by alcoholism and thus find help.

We are all as unique as our fingerprints, but as our fingers join in the closing prayer, each of us is part of a circle of hope that is greater than any of our individual differences.

Today’s Reminder

Although we have our unique qualities, all hearts beat the same under the skin. Your heart reaches out to mine as you share your story and your faith. I know that the part of myself which I share with you is taken to your heart. Today I will cherish our collective strength.

“For the body is one and has many members, but all the members of that one body, being many, are one body.” ~ The Bible

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There is a reality that speaks to me: the subtle but radical shift from isolation born of shame to connection born of shared purpose. When I first came into the rooms, my instinct was to catalog my differences — to treat my pain like a fingerprint that no one else could decipher. But that impulse, though it felt self-protective, was also self-imprisoning. It was not my particular circumstances but my fear and shame that kept me separate.

In 12 Step Recovery, the invitation is not to erase individuality but to reframe it. I do not have to abandon my story or my uniqueness. Instead, I am asked to remember why we are all here: to find a path toward serenity in the midst of mine or someone else’s drinking, and to walk that path together. When I look beyond the details of my situation, I discover an invisible thread tying my heart to others’ hearts. That thread is stronger than the storylines that once isolated me.

I can remember being resistant to the religious nature of the prayers used in recovery. But then I saw that without the burden of dogma, it became an exercise in connection. Every hand retains its own lines and swirls, but together they make a circle. The circle does not cancel difference; it holds it, transforming it into a shared strength. That is the paradox of recovery: when I risk reaching beyond my shame, I discover that what I thought made me untouchable is the very place where connection begins.

Now I can cherish our collective strength without losing myself. I can honor the uniqueness of my fingerprint and still place my hand in the circle, knowing that under the skin our hearts beat the same. In that shared rhythm, I am never alone.

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Endigar 1052

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

From Courage to Change of Oct 3:

Clearly, I didn’t know what compassion was, but I knew what it was not. Compassion was not seeking revenge, holding a grudge, calling names, or screaming and throwing things in anger. Yet that was how I frequently behaved toward this person I claimed to love. For me, the beginning of learning compassion was to eliminate such behavior.

While I still have a hard time defining compassion, I think it starts with the recognition that I am dealing with a sick person who sometimes exhibits symptoms of a disease. I don’t have to take it personally when these symptoms, such as verbal abuse, appear, nor do I have the right to punish anyone for being sick.

I am a worthwhile human being. I don’t have to sit and take abuse. But I have no right to dish it out, either.

Today’s Reminder

I will spend more time with myself in this lifetime than with anyone else. Let me learn to be the kind of person I would like to have as a friend.

“He who would have beautiful roses in his garden must have beautiful roses in his heart.” ~ S.R. Hole

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Compassion was once a slippery word, an idol others claimed to know. I did not. Codependence had buried that experience beneath confusion. What I knew, what I felt in my bones, was only what compassion was not.

It was not rage erupting to scorch every bridge.
It was not grudges gripping cold around my core.
It was not venom spat as names, hurled like stones, each syllable a chain.

That terrain I knew too well. It was familiar. It was desolation.

Growth, for me, is not swinging back. Growth is refusing to feed the cycle of abuse. Restraint is not weakness; it is control of the battlefield. When I refuse to strike back, I do not sanctify them—I sanctify myself.

Compassion is not bestowed. It is cultivated in the dirt of my own choices. It is not miracle. It is muscle. It grows in ordinary decisions: pausing instead of lashing, speaking without venom, walking away without cruelty.

In that refusal, I discover a new dignity — one not granted by family, faith, or foe, but forged in my refusal to be dragged down. I am a worthwhile human being. That worth is not granted by abusers, gods, or patriots. It is not earned by compliance, and it is not erased by rejection. It is mine.

That worth does not demand I sit passively in abuse. Nor does it give me license to mirror cruelty with cruelty. Retaliation is not freedom. It is contagion. My responsibility is sharper: to cultivate the kind of person I would myself choose as companion. This is Intelligent Self-Patriotism.

What does true compassion feel like in the body? It is not collapse. It is not retaliation. It is the tension of standing between. Strong spine, steady breath. I recognize sickness in others, but I do not let their infection excuse my own. Their disease is theirs. My containment is mine.

So I take inventory of my behavior before I dare judge another’s. That is Intelligence: guarding my Story against the poison of hypocrisy. I confess: I am learning compassion slowly, imperfectly, but sincerely — and sincerity, not speed, is what makes it real and lasting.

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