Archive for love

Endigar 936

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 27:

One day I received a call from a newcomer to Al-Anon. We chatted for a while, and then he asked if I would consider being his Sponsor. I was shocked! I never expected anyone to ask me! I felt deeply humbled and ecstatically grateful at the same time.

But had I grown sufficiently to offer help to someone else? Did I have anything to give? Could I be there for someone else without losing myself? Fear took over for a minute, but then I remembered that he was not asking me to be his savior, only his helper, whose example and experience might lead him to his own recovery.

I know that my Higher Power brings people into my life who can help me to grow. So I said a quick prayer, asking to be worthy, and answered that I would be honored to be his Sponsor.

Today’s Reminder

Being a Sponsor is as much a commitment to myself as it is to someone else. It is not a favor. Sponsorship gives me a chance to share intimately, to care, to practice detaching with love, and to apply the Al-Anon principles more consciously than ever. And, if I listen to my own words, I find that I usually tell those whom I sponsor exactly what I myself need to hear.

“Give what you have. To someone, it may be better than you dare to think.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

END OF QUOTE—————————————

By the time someone first asked me to be their Sponsor and truly began to do the work, I’d already been through a few false starts. They didn’t all make it—and I had to learn to accept that. What mattered was: I stayed sober. I stayed the course.

That was a win.

When the request came again, it didn’t shake me. I’ve led before. Taught. Served. I know how to hold a line. But recovery taught me that this line isn’t about command—it’s about presence. I’m not here to drag someone across the finish line. I’m here to walk beside them until they learn to walk on their own.

Sponsorship, for me, isn’t some mountaintop of wisdom. It’s a practice in staying human, honest, and awake. I don’t have to be a savior. I don’t have to fix anything. I just need to show up clean, consistent, and real.

And when I speak from experience, I listen to my own words. Often, I hear what I still need to hear.

It’s a mutual sharpening. A quiet contract between two people trying to live differently.

And even if they fall away again, I stay.
That’s what I can give.

Endigar 932

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 23:

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

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

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

Today’s Reminder

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

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

END OF QUOTE—————————————

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

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

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

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

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

Endigar 931

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 22:

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

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

Today’s Reminder

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

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

END OF QUOTE—————————————

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

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

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

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

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

Endigar 924

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

Courage to Change of Jun 16:

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

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

Today’s Reminder

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

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

END OF QUOTE—————————————

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

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

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

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

Endigar 923 ~ Step Zero

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

Step Zero: I want to live and I ask for help to avoid a tragic end.

This is a radical declaration of both vulnerability and agency. “Step Zero” implies a prelude to transformation—before any formal step of healing or recovery begins, there must be the will to survive. It’s raw, honest, and elemental. There’s humility in asking for help, yet courage in the admission. It echoes the cry of someone poised on the edge, choosing life over oblivion.

It’s also a spiritual reset—a return to a primal human truth: the desire to live is sacred.


Associated Principle: Recovery of my truest Self cannot be given, it must be taken through the collective mind.

This speaks to personal empowerment through shared consciousness. The truest Self isn’t something that can be handed over by a savior or found in isolation. It must be taken—claimed—by the individual, but in the presence or context of others. The “collective mind” may refer to community, ancestral memory, shared trauma, or a larger spiritual ecosystem. It suggests that real healing isn’t solitary—it happens within the web of interbeing.

There’s also a challenge here: one must be active, not passive, in recovering the Self. No one else can do it for you.


Extracted Values: Positive Selfishness, Free Will, and Collective Awareness.

  • Positive Selfishness is reclaiming the right to prioritize your own well-being—not in a destructive or narcissistic way, but as an act of survival and dignity.
  • Free Will anchors the idea that choosing to live, choosing to heal, is a sovereign act. No one else gets to decide for you.
  • Collective Awareness reminds us that while healing is personal, it is never private. Our actions ripple outward. We are seen, felt, and mirrored by others.

—the Breath before the Word—

I want to live.
Not just exist,
not just endure.

I want to stand on the trembling edge
and say to the dark:
Help Me.
Not because I am weak—
but because I am choosing
not to disappear.

This is Step Zero.
The beginning beneath beginnings.
Where the soul, still smoldering,
dares to whisper
its own name.

The Self—my truest Self—
cannot be handed to me
like a medal, or a crown.

It must be taken.
Wrestled back
from the jaws of silence and forgetting.
Taken—not from others,
but with them.
Through the dreamwork of the collective mind.
The shared ache.
The silent nod across generations.

Only in this sacred tension—
between the I and the We—
do I remember who I’ve always been.

So, I practice
Positive Selfishness
not to hoard, but to heal.

I invoke
Free Will
as a spell against despair.

And I move
with Collective Awareness
because my healing
is never mine alone.

And so
before I take a step,
before I raise a hand,
I say:
I want to live.

And I let that truth
be holy.