Mr. SponsorPants

Neat trick.

So, if "they" judge me it's intolerance, but if I judge them it's intelligence? 

Neat trick.

If that's your unconscious frame of reference during these highly charged times mmmaybe that's something to look at, eh?

Being intolerant is the sad privilege of every Homo Sapien walking the earth -- hell, it's practically a birth right.  But setting aside any moralistic judgment about human nature, that some of it is "bad" and some of it "good" (or in the 12 Step lexicon "sick" and "healthy"), the fact seems to be -- born out by the personal experience of many, many, many individuals who seek to develop a conscious contact with God (again, in AA speak, a seeking unlimited by any particular doctrine, and a God as you understand God) -- the more I allow intolerance to dominate my view of others the less able to grow along spiritual lines I seem to be. (Though the dark comedy there is that many wrap their intolerance in Godly terms -- which just goes to show that not only does God apparently have a sense of humor, but perhaps a sense of irony as well.)

Intolerance is not conducive to spiritual growth, no matter how sweet it may taste wrapped in my (admittedly brilliant) justifications, explanations and rationalizations.  (The "tions" self-deception trifecta! Hat trick! Woo!)

Of course the will and the attempt to develop and grow a spiritual contact is far from the sole provenance of AA's alone (obviously).  In recovery we are driven to it by the instinct to survive (no matter how twisted and shriveled it may be in an addict), others actually seek it for the betterment of themselves and the world around them.  Imagine!  (And they, too, often wrap their search in Godly terms, which just goes to show that not only does God apparently have a sense of irony, but it seems a sense of balance, as well.)

While being consumed by intolerance is sad and painful and likely a barrier to spiritual growth for anyone, it is deadly for an alcoholic attempting to stay sober, as continuing to grow along spiritual lines is the way 30 days' worth of one-day-at-a-times turn into 30 years' worth of one-day-at-a-times.

And that's a neat trick.

  

"Getting out of yourself' -- just to clarify . . .

Calling someone and talking about yourself is not "getting out of yourself."  That is actually just ... wait for it ... talking about yourself.

"Getting out of yourself," in the spirit of what the 12 Step universe suggests is when you call someone and ask how they are doing, actually listen to their response, and then ask questions about what they just shared with you -- perhaps even offering to help with something that troubles them.

_________________________________________________________

Hmmm ... I keep re-writing that and I still feel like there's a little snarkiness in the above, even though I don't mean there to be.  At least, I don't think I mean there to be...

Certainly it's an important thing to call people and share what's going on with you -- that can, in fact, be a very scary thing since by doing so you make yourself more vulnerable through honestly sharing how you feel and what troubles you.  That is not easy, but absolutely a worthwhile and healing habit to develop.  (And until it's a habit the phone can weigh about three thousand pounds when you go to pick it up.  That's why calling a sponsor regularly is such a good habit to develop -- so that when you really need to talk to someone there is no extra barrier to your doing so.  And, to be fair, calling your sponsor is license to talk more about yourself than perhaps other kinds of calls and conversations.)

But for a group of people who need no help in being selfish and self-obsessed (meaning alcoholics and addicts -- we're not the only people prone to it, but we've elevated it to a fine, high art), it's very easy to think that talking about ourselves to someone else is somehow getting out of ourselves -- when to do it in excess can actually lead to the opposite, that is, getting ever farther into ourselves.

Self examination is not self obsession.

There is a tipping point where what I think about how I feel about what I think about how I feel becomes a downward, inward spiral.  Yes, I need to pay attention to what I think and how I feel, but if I'm constantly taking my emotional temperature and then conducting a poll as to its meaning and significance then something is out of balance, I fear, and I'm sliding back into obsession, not examination.

AA is wise in that it repeatedly states in the literature that there is no one suggestion that fits absolutely every situation:

"Of course there is no pat answer which can fit all such dilemmas." -- "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions" (AA's 12&12) Step Nine, pg. 87.

As such I believe, perhaps especially when you're first building a foundation in AA, in the beginning some of us need to speak up more and some of us need to shut up more.  And although I suspect we all secretly know which category we fall into, (even if we are loathe to admit it to ourselves), good input from a sponsor you regularly talk with will help sort that out.

(Though regardless of which you are, the speak or the shut, getting out of yourself is the closest thing I've ever found to a suggestion that fits pretty much almost every situation.)

 

 

A Selfish Program

I remember when I was new at one point in meetings it was fashionable for people to get up at the lectern and announce that AA was a "selfish program" -- and I believe what they were trying to express was the idea that I must put my sobriety first -- that I must guard my sobriety -- I must make staying sober (and helping someone else get and stay sober) my "primary purpose."  I believe that is what they meant -- even though that was perhaps about the stupidest possible way to say it.

AA is not a selfish program, it is a selfless program.  Quite literally, less of my self.

Yet it is also true that I must take care of my own sobriety so that I can then go on to help others.  (If you've got that backwards in your life and you feel you must take care of others before you ever take care of yourself... well, that's a whole other program.)

"But obviously you cannot transmit something you haven't got." -- "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) Chapter 11, 'A Vision For You', pg. 164.

I think of this self-care-so-that-I-can-be-of-service like the instructions you hear when you're on a plane and they talk about the oxygen mask coming down in case of cabin depressurization.  (If it's not an old-school live demo with the flight attendant in the aisle it's the video, which I love, since in the video the cabin is all calm and peaceful when the masks deploy -- people are sitting, smiling, reading a magazine, the masks drop and everyone looks up at them like, "Oh! Look honey, an oxygen mask! Isn't that nice."  Somehow I imagine things are a wee bit more exciting than that should you actually find yourself in such a situation.)

The instruction is always to secure your own mask first, and then turn to help anyone you're traveling with that might require assistance.  Of course no one in their right mind would think of that in terms of selfishness -- clearly, it's about making sure you are able to help others by first taking care of yourself.

So I believe it is with AA and the balance between making my recovery a priority and working a program in which service is the basis of my continued sobriety. 

"Helping others is the foundation stone of your recovery.  A kindly act once in a while isn't enough.  You have to act the Good Samaritan every day, if need be." -- Big Book, Chapter 7, 'Working With Others', pg. 97.

Although it seems a paradox, I make my recovery a priority by making others a priority although in doing so I make my recovery a priority before making others a priority.

That makes both perfect sense and makes my brain hurt.

Thank you, Karen, I believe that sums it up nicely.

   

"Rationalization may be defined as self-deception by reasoning." — Karen Horney*

   

*Karen Horney (pronounced "horn-eye"), b. September 16, 1885, d. December 4, 1952 was a German psychodynamic psychologist (or what was called at that time, psychoanalyst) of Dutch and Norwegian descent. Her theories questioned some of Freud's traditional views, especially his theory of sexuality and the "instinct orientation" of psychoanalysis -- thus she's often classified as a Neo-Freudian.

 

"As an alcoholic, I am able to use insane thoughts as the reasoning for my rationalizations.  I am a gifted self-deceiver.  It's like my mutant power!" -- Mr. SponsorPants*

   

*Mr. SponsorPants (pronounced "Sponsor-Pants") b. 1962 and not quite dead yet, is the anonymity-preserving pen name of a crazed, middle-aged alcoholic and drug addict in recovery, with 20 years clean and sober and active as a sponsor in AA, but who demonstrates a remarkable lack of maturity for both his age and clean time.  His thinking is questioned for good reason, as are his instincts -- thus he's often classified as a neo-nut-job.

Questions via the Internetwork of Computers! More email from Mr. SponsorPants' inbox: Surrender!

I've gotten a few questions lately about AA and the concept of Surrender.  While I like to use the occasional email as a springboard to discuss a topic or idea, rather than put them all into this posting I'll just boil the issues they contained down and keep it simple -- since I had to do that for myself a long time ago when it came to my own confusion about surrender (which was sometimes a mask for a lack of willingness, I believe).  Many thanks to those who wrote in, and I hope this posting is helpful -- I apologize if you were all hot to see your email in its entirety here -- though if you were, you might want to get out more -- no offense, I'm just sayin'...

Three things:

First, if you don't want to surrender, then ... don't.

If you've been reduced to coming to AA meetings but you don't want to surrender, then don't -- keep doing things the way you think they should be done.  Look how well that has worked for you so far!  Keep up the good work! Just keep doing things the way you like until you are completely out of any more of your really great ideas.  Then, if you're still alive, you might try acting on some of AA's ideas instead.

For me, the more difficulty I've had with surrender, the more I think what I wanted was a different result from the same process.  I wanted to not be in trouble, or not suffer (specifically I wanted to not suffer the consequences of my actions or my inactions), but I still wanted to do what I wanted to do.  So in one regard the essence of surrender is that you are willing to do things differently than the way you've been doing them all along.

Second, are you even sure you are clear as to what the word "surrender" means, exactly?  We hear the word surrender and we make an immediate leap to a military context, in which the losing side surrenders -- and the word "losing" is the one that sort of colors the definition.  Consider this:  The side in a military engagement that surrenders does so because if they don't they're going to be wiped out.  When you're losing the war, the choice becomes: Surrender or die.

My friends who wrote me, and anyone who may be reading this who's new to AA or troubled by the concept of surrender, if you are a real alcoholic/addict then I'm afraid I have some tough news for you:

The war is already over, and you lost.  To "struggle" with surrender is to fail to see this fact.

Third, in regards to just exactly how to surrender in AA, that's really quite simple.  Rather than get all tangled up in figuring out what your Higher Power is so you can surrender to it, consider that if the essence of surrender in a spiritual context is to do things differently than the way you've been doing them, then the "differently" part is merely to follow AA's suggestions.

All of them.

The more you do that, the more complete your surrender. 

All people on a spiritual path, be it the 12 Step one outlined in AA, or a path inspired from a different source, struggle with this (though the different paths all seem to wind up going in the same direction eventually.  To put it another way, and borrow from the Buddhist sentiment, there are many paths to the top of the same mountain).

All people struggle with this -- and then struggle all over again with new surrenders as they are called for.  But when you are new to AA, and you are trying to get and stay clean and sober, the essence of surrender is merely to do what AA suggests -- go ahead, and see what happens.

______________________________________________________

And last of all, special to D.A., in a large city in the midwest -- I tried several times to email you back but I got the mailer daemon undeliverable thing, so I'll give you the essence of what I wrote to you below:

I would submit to you that a cult doesn't suggest you surrender, it eventually demands you do so.  Further, a cult has an objective in place that serves the cult alone -- while in my humble experience AA asks that I serve others in general, in all parts of life, not merely serve AA.  And the focus on service tends to move people deeper into the stream of life, not pull them from it.

Finally, as I understand it a cult isolates a person from their family and the world at large, while AA does the opposite  -- in fact, the 12 Steps, if you see them all the way through, will have you contacting people from your whole life (when you're ready to) and rebuilding connections with them via the amends process.

D.A., you used the term "brainwashing." Does AA brainwash people?  I can't speak for others, but as I heard a speaker say at my morning meeting, and as I've heard a number of times over the years, when I showed up in AA my brain needed washing.

Hope that helps, and remember, some people in meetings may seem strident or forceful only because AA is important to them.  When in doubt, look at what the AA brochures and books say -- that's where the Program is spelled out -- everything else, including this blog, I should add, is just someone trying to understand it and help others get and stay sober -- but that might make for some conversations that accidentally sound bossy or strident or like someone is telling you what to do.  That's probably less the case than you fear (though AA has its share of arrogant assholes, just like anyplace else.  As an old sponsor of mine used to joke, this would be a great program if it weren't for all the alcoholics).

Remember, when in doubt, look in the literature.

Service keeps you sober

I remember being at a meeting many years ago and hearing one of the great Grand Dame's of AA speak.  She was about a thousand years old, and got sober roughly in the Pliocene Era.  Broad was old.  Sober forever.  I think she drank with Bill Wilson in a speakeasy once or something.  When she showed up in AA they weren't sure if they could, should or would help a woman get sober.  (This was of course back before the Traditions were written or ratified, so every ego-soaked wanna-be guru was lording it over their particular meeting as to how things should be and who was "in" or who was "out."  Bad years.  To call it "growing pains" is to put a cute name on a time when people's personal biases and prejudices had the power to withhold recovery from someone.  Think about that next time you're in a meeting and you're having a little problem with some of the folks in the room -- because my friend, if you're having a little problem with them I betcha they're having a little problem with you, too.  Then consider, what if this was the only meeting you could get to -- and what if they could vote you out?  Don't kid yourself, those Traditions save lives as much as any of the Steps do.)

Anyway, she had a helluva story, and was rightly well loved as someone who'd helped a lot of people and worked a terrific program over the years.  As she was speaking she began to address the concept of service -- how important it is, intrinsic to spiritual growth and continued sobriety.  She talked about this one service commitment she'd had for years and years, and how she'd always had it, and couldn't imagine being sober without it.  She described it as the pinnacle of keeping herself right-sized, and how this service was how she kept her ego in check, kept a handle on humility, and hopefully set an example for others.

I was on the edge of my seat. 

Yes, without this long standing service commitment she didn't think she would be sober today.  And her service commitment was...

   

she brought her empty shopping cart back to the little area at the supermarket you're supposed to return your cart to after she put her grocery bags in the car.

   

I just about fell out of my chair.

I'm sorry, you ... what?!?

First off, it's always important to remember that time is not a tool, and while yes, the last thirty days of my sobriety are substantively different than the very first thirty days of sobriety, my being 20 years clean and sober is no guarantee that I'm not deeply mistaken about something (in AA or out) or even that I'm not batshit crazy.  (She wasn't crazy, old as she was, she was just a little unclear on a particular concept, I believe.)

Secondly, only an alcoholic expects a Nobel Prize for just being a regular old person doing the right thing, pretty much just like everybody else around them. 

When it comes to being of service, after a while I fear we are prone to feeling morally superior to the "regular" people around us, completely forgetting that the reason we have to make a conscious decision to be of service in any given situation is because left to our own devices we are selfish, self-centered, juvenile delinquents, given to rationalizing every decision we make into the idea that doing what we want is something we "deserve."  (Never mind that for most of us if we got what we actually deserved we'd be dead or serving a jail sentence -- just because you got away with driving drunk doesn't mean you're less of a criminal or a potential murderer, for example).

Finally, being a good citizen, a giving person, will of course grow your soul.  Giving of your time to hand out blankets to the homeless on a cold night, volunteering in a soup kitchen, reading books for the blind... wonderful things.  More people should do them, they are transformative by nature.

But only an alcoholic can carry a message of recovery to another alcoholic.  It's wonderful to do service work in many capacities.  But that is not 12th Step work.

We can (and should) do those things in addition to being of service in AA, but it's a very dangerous thing to do them instead of being of service in AA.

I confess, though, ever since I heard that gal speak I do return my shopping cart to the little place you're supposed to.  Many's the day I wish that was all it took to keep me sober.

 

It's not about willingness, it's about humility... to which I can only respond, "D'oh!"

Step 7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

"The whole emphasis of Step 7 is on humility" -- "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions (commonly called the 12&12), Step 7, pg. 76

No matter how many times I read Step 7 -- and by now it probably numbers in the hundreds of times -- it (almost) still surprises me when I bump up against the fact that the real focus of Step 7 is humility.

For the longest time I kept trying to make Step 7 about the shortcoming.  The defect.

 I was all about trying to have the defect removed, concentrating intently on where, when and how I fell short -- running my fingers and toes through inventories and self revelations and conversations with sponsors and friends about where I was messy or spiritually unfit or just plain in the wrong.  And then in earnest I would work on becoming willing, and more willing, and sincerely willing, to change.  (Which is lovely, but is really the job I was supposed to do back in Step 6, "Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character" -- proving once again that if you have a problem on a particular Step maybe it's because you didn't really fully do the one that came before it.)

Now all that speaks well of me, and anyone, who really wants to "practice these principles in all their affairs" (to mildly paraphrase how the 12th Step puts it), stay clean and grow in their sobriety.

But ultimately what I seek to do when I work all 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous is to have a spiritual experience as the result of the Steps.  In other words, the Steps are a specific recipe for a specific result -- and while I may "wear the Program like a loose garment" as they used to say in the meetings I got sober in, that applies more to the wealth of general suggestions that the Fellowship offers -- that does not mean that I should adapt the 12 Steps to suit myself.

Or, to put it another way (and to borrow from an analogy I used in another post here on SponsorPants), if you follow a recipe for baking a cake you'll probably, after following all the steps in the recipe, wind up with a cake.  If you adapt the steps in that recipe too much to suit yourself, well, you'll wind up with something, but it won't be a cake.  It will likely be a pan full of mush.

So, too, I believe, even if my intentions are good (and ladies and gentlemen of the jury, they always, always are, I assure you -- before I got sober if they'd had blogs back then I could have written one called Mr. Good Intentions) if I'm missing the point of the Step then I'm not really able to "do" it -- and then I'm likely to flounder along, and wind up with the spiritual equivalent of a pan full of mush.

That's not to say that there's a right way and a wrong way to get sober -- do whatever you want -- but if you're going to follow the 12 Steps and work them to the best of your ability, then there is, I believe, a certain hit-or-miss to doing that.

So in working Step 7 I need to remember it's not about the shortcoming, it's about the humility.  Naturally enough, I used to sort of assume that any problem I had with Step 7 was an issue of willingness or resistance.  I thought that on some level I was unwilling to change -- that I resisted the change I was asking God to help me with.

But when I look to what the 12&12 suggests, when I have a problem with Step 7, it is not a question of being willing that will lead to a change, it is a question of being humble.  Humble enough.

 

 

I have to be careful reading Charles Bukowski

I have to be careful reading Charles Bukowski.  He writes of a drunkenness that is wretched and pitiable.  And liberating.  And fatal.

He was a man that knew the terrible despair of sitting in a bar at 8am, drinking beer with the other lost souls, certain that this is the place you belong;

the poisonous cycle of debilitating hangover after debilitating hangover, of not waking up so much as coming to, with shaking hands and waves of nausea washing through you like some foul tide;

the strange powerlessness of drinking literally around the clock -- and wanting to; the absolute and supreme "fuck you!" of the drunk.

And when he writes about it, in his way, my mouth fills with saliva and I feel the monster inside me pacing his cage.

Psychosis!

From Wikipedia:

Psychosis (from the Greekψυχή "psyche", for mind or soul, and -οσις "-osis", for abnormal condition), with adjective psychotic, literally means abnormal condition of the mind, and is a generic psychiatric term for a mental state often described as involving a "loss of contact with reality". People suffering from psychosis are said to be psychotic.

People experiencing psychosis may report hallucinations or delusional beliefs, and may exhibit personality changes and disorganized thinking. This may be accompanied by unusual or bizarre behavior, as well as difficulty with social interaction and impairment in carrying out the activities of daily living.

We've all heard of "drug-induced psychosis."  The speaker at my meeting tonight used the phrase a couple of times to describe just how low (low) he was from drug use (7 tabs of acid in one morning!  And people say addicts are underachievers.)

It struck me, sitting and listening to him, studiously ignoring the sponsor and their sponsee sitting a few rows in front of me and texting on their little cell phone crackberry things during half the meeting (it was not driving me crazy or anything.  It was not) that in recovery perhaps it's possible to suffer from a fear-induced psychosis.

In light of the concept that alcoholism is a disease we describe as having a physical root (the phenomenon of craving once you start to drink -- described best in "The Doctor's Opinion" a foreword in the book "Alcoholic's Anonymous" -- AA's Big Book), containing a mental obsession (the curious mental blank spot discussed in Chapter 2, "There is a Solution" and Chapter 3, "More About Alcoholism" in the Big Book) and including a spiritual component (the warped ego, the hyper-sensitivity, the childish selfish, self-centered world view -- the "King Baby-ism" described, well, pretty much everywhere in the AA literature) I think it's really worth considering this idea.

Alcoholism can create such a spiritual imbalance, such overwhelming fear, that a person's mind enters an abnormal state, including a loss of touch with reality, delusional beliefs, disorganized thinking, personality changes, difficulty with social interactions and problems with daily living:

Fear-induced psychosis.

Or, a little something I like to call "First thing in the morning before I kneel down, say a few prayers and have some coffee."

 

Strangers on a train

 

 

 

 

I was killing time waiting for my flight.   It had been a big weekend, heavily scheduled, but things had gone well, so although I was bushed I was content -- still and all, glad to be going home.

Sitting at the gate well ahead of boarding, sipping my Starbucks,  I was hiding behind my sunglasses -- the better to pass the time studying my fellow travelers without being obvious about it. (I like to decide in advance whom we should eat if the plane goes down.  I'm a big guy, so I might be on the menu if I don't do a little planning ahead of time.  Hey, you never know.  "Be prepared!" as the Boy Scouts said -- though I don't think they offer a badge in survivalist cannibalism.  Yet.)

The seating area was broad -- really three gates worth of pseudo-futuristic molded plastic chairs -- so people were able to spread out -- I think the same laws of crowd physics that apply in a half full movie theater seemed to be in play -- those sitting alone had a couple of seats buffer around them, the pairs and small groups could clump comfortably together and not crowd the loners -- yet if you took a long shot in a movie of us overall we would appear to be sitting roughly together.

Drinking my coffee, pretending to read my book (saving it for the flight, actually, but it was a good prop to cover my nosy people-watching) I made the standard assumptions about the usual suspects:  The newly-weds, the oldy-weds, the business people, the students.  I like to wonder when looking at a crowd, who here might be a brilliant artist?  Who might be a terrible cheat?  A wonderful cook?  A horrible bully? A romantic, a cynic, a killer?

A woman came and sat somewhat across from me, but over by a couple of chairs, so it was diagonally across, actually -- which put her farther from the rest of the people waiting and made me the closest person to her.

The first thing I noticed, peeking over my book, was that she was wearing enormous, very ugly sunglasses.

You know, those sunglasses that are purposely over-sized and bug like.  On top of their hugeness these glasses had about three things too many going on -- gold accents, some kind of sparkly rhinestone things and what looked like braid along the arms before they made it back to rest on her ears -- it wouldn't be going too far to wonder if the designer had given real consideration to tiny windshield wipers, or maybe little tassles, one for each lens. 

Her face was pale, but everything else about her was dark -- hair, clothes, and mood, once I really looked at her.  She appeared to be ... was it? ... yes.  She was trying not to cry.  She kept rubbing her eyes under those gigantic bug-eye lenses, and her mouth was doing that involuntary twisting down at the corner -- crying can go either way when you get that twisty mouth thing -- either you're about to master yourself or you're about to really lose it.

I took off my sunglasses so she could see my eyes and grabbed a couple of clean napkins from my Starbucks stash (me juggling carry-on luggage, a coffee, a coat and a book is an invitation to disaster, so I'd grabbed a ton of napkins when I got my Starbucks -- hey, I recycle, not to worry.)  If she started to really cry I wanted to be able to hand them to her if possible, maybe make a connection.  I said a little prayer under my breath about being helpful, I don't even remember what it was, actually.

Okay, now I'm going to tell you something embarrassing about myself.

There was a time in sobriety when this would have been pure ego on my part.  The arrogance of recovery, to assume that God put this person here in my path for me to help because I'm this special magical sober creature with extraordinary mutant healing powers, smart enough to know how everyone around me should feel and behave, with a kit of spiritual tools I would use to fix you right up so you felt and behaved the way I thought you should.

Blech.

To be fair to the egotistical then-me, even if my motives were heavily influenced by ego my actions would have been pretty good, and as I'm fond of observing, if I don't get any points for good intentions and bad actions I am absolutely taking full credit for bad intentions and good actions, so it's not like my ego would have gotten in the way of being helpful to this woman should the opportunity have presented itself.

"... the attainment of greater humility is the foundation principle of each of A.A.'s Twelve Steps." -- "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions" (AA's 12&12), Step 7, pg. 70

I was ready to help her if possible, but today I know that the only help I might offer is a clean napkin to blow your nose and a moment of human contact in a sterile airport seating area.  I no longer presume I know what kind of help people should have.  Humility is very misunderstood, but the more humility you develop the more freedom and happiness you experience, I have found.

"Nearly all A.A.'s have found, too, that unless they develop much more of this precious quality than may be required just for sobriety, they still haven't much chance of becoming truly happy." -- 12&12, Step 7, pg. 70

You can even make a case -- and a good one -- that giving people their privacy and their dignity in that situation is how you can be helpful -- certainly, you could make that line up with a kind of humility -- who am I to offer anything? -- but something in there smacks of hiding a bad thing under something good.  Being ready to actually do something if you can, rather than do nothing and justify it with spiritual lingo, feels right to me today.

She did start to cry, and I did offer a napkin, and she did take it.  She said thank you and I said you're welcome.  Once she used the napkin she took off her sunglasses and I offered another napkin, and since there seemed to be an opportunity I said the first thing that popped into my head, which was something like "You know, you could always treat this like that movie 'Strangers on a Train.'"

She looked at me with no clue what I meant.  Already feeling supremely stupid I went on.

"It's a Hitchcock movie, about these two travelers who meet by chance, and they tell each other stuff and it's safe because they're total strangers and will never see each other again."

She was old enough to know who Hitchcock was, I should add, and regular blog readers will know that while I think I'm pretty good at remembering conversations I freely admit that a dialog reproduced in this fashion is unlikely to be word-for-word accurate -- but I know I'll get the spirit of it anyway.

"Oh, yeah ... didn't they plot a murder or something?"

"Ummm, could be, I just thought it was about unburdening themselves, I don't remember for sure."  I totally lied.  I know the movie well, she was correct, it's all about trading murder victims -- the conceit is pure Hitchcock and although the film hasn't aged well it's still terrific.  I am committed to rigorous honesty as AA suggests it but I am also quite comfortable lying in the service of trying to be helpful to someone, since for me service trumps stuffy old rigorousness.  Sue me.  Plus, I've always liked what Mark Twain said about the truth and the facts often having very little to do with each other. 

"It just popped in my head that maybe if you wanted to talk about..."

"No thanks." She got up and left.  Not just changed seats as if still waiting for the plane but getting away from Mr. Crazy Nosy Napkin Guy -- she completely left the gate area, and didn't come back all the way through boarding and departure.

I want you to know, in the movie version of my life she tells me a brief, wrenching anecdote, I offer her a sage and heartfelt bit of advice, and she goes on, changed and forever the better for having met me, and talks sometimes about meeting an angel in an airport.

More likely she went off to find security to report some freaky guy in the waiting area trying to get people to talk about planning murders, and I probably missed an interrogation and full body cavity search by mere minutes after my plane took off.

Still, I like the guy AA has made me into, ready to engage people and help if possible, even if it turns out to be more like an episode of "Punk'd" than "Touched by an Angel." 

 

 _________________________________________________________________

 

There are more reflections like this one in "Mr. SponsorPants: Adventures in Sobriety and The 12 Steps for AA's and Others."  Available as an eBook on Kindle via Amazon.  Download a Kindle reader for free on any device or platform.