Mr. SponsorPants

Things I learned (or was reminded of) this week. An ongoing series.

The book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) tends to use the words "dry" and "sober" interchangeably.  It is in the book "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions" (more commonly called the 12&12), written roughly a dozen or so years after the Big Book, where the idea of sobriety as we think of it today -- that is, a spiritual, mental, emotional state rather than just a physical one -- is fleshed out.

AA has survived the "bright ideas," best intentions, foolishness and chicanery of hundreds of thousands of alcoholics and addicts over more than 70 years.  While comparatively speaking that is not a very long time, if Alcoholics Anonymous hasn't imploded by now, it's probably going to be okay.  It will continue to grow and change and evolve, as it has from its inception, but it's solid as an old oak.  While we each have an important responsibility to safeguard the Traditions and AA's singleness of purpose, perhaps the greater danger to each of us, over time, is becoming AA "purists" --  after all, God has a hand in this thing too.  A little foolish sharing, a long-winded old timer who seems more dry than sober -- these things are hardly a death knell.  Keep rowing the boat, keep speaking up when you feel you need to, but don't let safeguarding the Traditions, or keeping AA the way it "ought to be" make you grim or dogmatic.

It is an especially nice thing to compliment the coffee person at a meeting on how delicious the coffee is.  Yes, yes, it is a program of rigorous honesty, but this is the one allowable exception.

Sometimes the speaker is there to be of service to the meeting, but sometimes the meeting is there to be of service to the speaker.

Sometimes people have to take the blueprint for living that AA offers and make for themselves a fortress, before they can figure out that they really need to make a tree house.  Or vice versa.  The amazing thing about the spiritual tools and the 12 Step process of Alcoholics Anonymous is that you can use them to make either.

The reason the expression is to be "in the middle of the life boat" is because when a big wave comes sometimes the people on the edges get washed away.

If you're having a problem with the 3rd Step, that is, if you're having a problem turning your will and your life over to the care of God as you understand God, then maybe the problem isn't with your willingness -- maybe your problem is with what your understanding of God is.  I had a much easier time turning my life over to God once I realized that God wasn't out to get me -- that my recovery would not be a series of painful and difficult lessons which, if I failed to understand them, would be followed by still more painful and difficult ones.  God is probably not setting you up for a cosmic "gotcha."

Willingness does not mean "want to."  An alcoholic who is waiting to "want to" do the steps, or write their inventory, or be of service, is probably going to be waiting for a quite a while.  It is a hallmark of the perversity of my alcoholic nature that I usually only want to do things after I've actually started doing them.

The day goes much easier for an alcoholic if they stop evaluating every little thing that happens to them as a "good" thing or a "bad" thing and just look at each thing as meant to be and a chance to be of service.

Self examination and sharing is not the same as constantly taking your emotional temperature and then describing it to everyone around you.

Plato put it this way:  "Be kind to everyone, for we are all fighting a hard battle."  Go, Plato.

A letter to my dead AA friends who died drunk (or O.D.'d -- let's not split hairs, okay?)

Dear Dead AA Friends,

Hey there!  How are you?

Listen, sorry about the whole dying drunk thing.  Most of you liked a good joke and a good time (too much, eh?  Am I right?) while you were alive, so you can count on me not to go all boo hoo on you in this letter, ok?

So anyway... how's the afterlife?  Good I hope.  I'm still going to meetings and stuff -- seems a bit egotistical to think you'd check in on me and all, so I thought I'd just get you up to speed.

And they're still a challenge of course -- the personalities, my own ego, the routine of it all... you know, the usual.  But when I don't go, it's like my thinking just gets darker and darker... even after all this time.  I've tried not going, stretching the leash, skipping "the medicine," and every time I do it's like the guy I am -- the guy I like to be -- starts to fade out, and the Other Guy, the ism-guy, starts to step in.  (And, confidentially, he is a bit of a paranoid asshole.  Total buzz kill).  So I'm still in meetings a lot ... four, sometimes five a week.

I think I made it to most of your memorial services.  Nice, those, right?  Lots of tears, lots of people being brave, saying nice things about you.  (Some of you might have put some thought into leaving a few instructions for musical choices or time limits on the whole thing, but I understand very few of you really planned on the party ending quite the way it did -- deep down we all think "one more won't kill me" right?  Boy, there's some egg on your face, huh?)  I gotta say, it was tough looking at the family you left behind (most of you, anyway -- I know some of you got some really raw deals in that department).  Sometimes I was afraid to go up and say anything to them, you know?  I always did, but it was hard, and not just because of the loss.

I was afraid they would ask me The Question:

"Why?"

We both know there's no simple answer to that one!

For the record, when people talked about you, I always -- okay, usually -- stuck up for you.  Sure, there were times it was useful to talk with one of my sponsees about what seemed to lead to your relapse and all, but I think I struck an even tone, refrained from judging.  I tried to, anyway.

You gotta understand, the folks that get a little bitchy talking about your program, at heart they're just frightened, right?  It's like, we found this thing that seems to work, then you go and slip, so it's like it didn't work for you -- and then you go and die!  Jeeze!  For what it's worth, most of the longtimers -- oh, hey, there's a bit of news for you, people have started saying "longtimers" instead of oldtimers -- man, you know I'm glad of that now, right? LOL!  -- anyway, most of those longtimers -- well, us, I guess I should say "us longtimers" -- how weird it that? -- anyway, we know that no matter how you ... uh, checked out, no matter what the Death Certificate says, it was alcoholism and addiction that did you in.

Some of you might have slacked off on your Programs ... maybe some others it was the infamous "outside issues" that started to pile on ... like I said, I really try not to judge.  I do try to mention your names, sometimes, keep the memory alive -- sorry if every so often it's in the boogey-man manner -- but you know it's just when I'm trying to make a point with a sponsee or a newcomer, right?  Okay, okay, yeah, sure, fine ... sometimes I'm just being dramatic too.  So sue me, most of you never exactly shied away from a dramatic gesture now and then.

Oh, and, you know the other reason I still go to a lot of meetings is... well, don't take this the wrong way, but ... you're not here.   You're not here to help.  I think of you, when I see an empty chair, especially in certain meetings, I think of you and how at one point some of you were just amazing at carrying the message ... wish you were here still to pitch in.  Hey, not trying to guilt trip you or anything!  Just being honest.

You know, I guess I can tell you this now... without judgment I sometimes review everything I know about you and your sobriety, and I even ask other people -- not in a gossipy way, I swear! -- about their impressions of your relapse and everything.  See, I figure if there's absolutely any way I can learn something from what happened to you, then... well, then it's like I can have you with me, sort of, on some 12th Step work.  If something -- god, anything! -- from your relapse and passing can help someone else not do what you did ... well, I don't want to say that it will make your death "not in vain," since I don't think you died in vain anyway ... but it's like ... it's like I can take the pain which your death caused everyone, your friends, family, sponsors, sponsees ... I can take that pain and maybe make something out of it which honors you.  Use that stuff to make a testament to your time sober, to your attempt to address this ... well, I guess I don't have to tell you it's a fatal malady, right?

Anyway, I hope that's okay.  I mean, I'm sure it is, but I just wanted to let you know.

Okay, I promised not to get all weepy, and here I go, waxing serious and sentimental on you.  Sorry.

Take care, I'll write again, and ... since you're over there, if you have any influence over which numbers fall out in the Lotto ... I'm just sayin'...

Cheers!

Sincerely, your friend,

Mr. SponsorPants

.

"... means I survived."

From the novel "Little Bee" by Chris Cleave:

"... I ask you right here to agree with me that a scar is never ugly.  That is what the scar makers want us to think.  But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them.  We must see all scars as beauty.  Okay?  This will be our secret.  Because, take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying.  A scar means, I survived."

If you survive alcoholism, you probably have some scars to show for it:  Scarred spirits, scarred families, scarred minds... scarred brains and lives, livers and lovers.

And our scars are beautiful -- not just because they are a testament to our survival, but because they are a testament to our healing as well.

But they are not only beautiful -- they are powerful.

Powerful medicine.

We share those scars so that others can heal also.  That is the distilled essence of the 12 Step experience:  One helping another like them.  That is the medicine which transforms shame into esteem and leads people from isolation to fellowship.

If you're not there yet, take heart.  Keep coming back and you will be.

And if you are, then you know this truth, and have felt its power.  Remember to let the help in as much as you offer it -- share your beautiful scars, and let others share theirs with you, too. 

12 things AA is not.

1.  AA is not for everyone.

2.  AA is not for people who need it (it is for people who want it).

3.  AA is not selling anything.

4.  AA is not cool.

5.  AA is not in the business of diagnosing anyone as an alcoholic.

6.  AA is not "against" anything -- it is not against any other method of treating alcoholism.  It is not against anyone who views AA unfavorably.  It is not even against drinking.

7.  AA is not a quick fix.

8.  AA is not always a bastion of mental health.  People come to it because they are sick, and often they have issues in addition to their addiction, and it can take a long time to address some of them (but at least those folks are in a place where they can try).

9.  AA is not regulated.  There is no governing body as those things are generally defined in other organizations or fellowships.

10.  AA is not a profit-making enterprise.  Books are sold at cost, meetings collect donations from those attending on a purely voluntary basis, and then only to cover the expense of renting a space and providing literature and sometimes coffee, cookies, etc.

11.  AA is not too good to be true, but it can look that way sometimes.

12.  AA is not only the foundation of my life, it is a source of joy and fellowship, and I am grateful that all of the things it is not help make it what it is.  

Shooters -- Quick shots from Meetings

Every so often, in an AA meeting, who I am runs into who I used to be, and when that happens I see how far I've come ... and how sick I was -- then I find myself kind of wincing and smiling at the same time.

_________________________________________________________________

Sometimes, in a meeting, I'm just sitting there waiting for the next person I'm supposed to help to walk through the door.

__________________________________________________

I sit and I look around the meeting and I think to myself: "So many of these people are heroes and miracles to me, and they don't even know it -- they don't even know sometimes how much they inspire me."  But usually I'm too shy to tell them.

__________________________________________________

Kathleen Norris saves the day. Again.

There are two author/poets named Kathleen Norris (what are the odds?)  One, who lived from 1880 to 1966 and the other, born in 1947, and (to the best of my knowledge) still writing, speaking and ... poet-ing ... today.  While I'm sure the former was a lovely woman of worthy accomplishments, it is to the latter I owe regular debts of gratitude for her exploration of things spiritual and the insights she has gained, and written about, along the way.

Ms. Norris, in her excellent (and hard to find) book "The Quotidian Mysteries," writes:

"The daily routines that provide a modicum of discipline in our lives are perceived as a drag, a monotony that can occasion listlessness, apathy and despair.  The word acedia is not much in use these days -- the American Heritage Dictionary defines it as 'spiritual torpor or apathy; ennui'..."

For those of us who believe our lives depend on the daily maintenance of a spiritual experience, this 'acedia' -- this 'spiritual ennui' -- is a very serious business indeed.

Having felt its clammy grasp at various times in my own sobriety, I can say that this is not the exactly the same as depression, or sloth (my old friend, whom I seem to love so much I keep him with me always), or fear, with its hundred thousand masks and deadly ventriloquist act.  No, acedia (a word so out of fashion that it baffles spell checks) is most definitely a spiritual malaise rather than a brain or heart issue.

As in all things -- most especially the program of Alcoholics Anonymous -- to accurately identify the problem is the key to then doing something about it -- in fact the Big Book itself, AA's recovery blueprint, is (if you pull the camera back and look at its structure from a distance) laid out in this way:  Identify the Problem, Identify the Solution, Explain the Plan of Action to get from one to the other.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

Ms. Norris saves the day (which sounds like a children's book from England about a plucky governess and her errant charge) for me at first by giving a name, an identifier, to this sobriety kryptonite, and then sharing how she deals with it.

As I have written about before, Alcoholics Anonymous suggests that sober drunks relapse because they "fail to enlarge their spiritual life."  It has been in the past few years that I have come to see that my original understanding of that statement was very Western; "enlarge" as an additive process:  More, more more -- 5 meetings a week must become 7, 4 service commitments must become 8, 3 sponsees to 7 to 10 to 14 to 22 ... there's a breaking point on that path.

I know, because when I hit it I broke.

Now I see the idea behind continuing to enlarge my spiritual life as a qualitative one rather than just a quantitative one.  A richness of experience born of routine, a deeper awareness, a clarity of purpose, a fuller willingness ... that is enlarging my spiritual life in ways a constant addition of tasks and bodies never could.

But when struck with acedia -- making the routine drudgery, blunting my intent to create quality of experience -- it is beyond what some might assume is simple boredom.  It is a like a fog rolling in ... sunlight of the spirit? No, it's all gray.

Mr. Norris writes:

"It [meaning her spiritual connection] all depended on a steady, daily routine that by the standards of the busy world looked boring, repetitive and meaningless... I find [her observance of prayer and reflection] an especially hard discipline, one that I mostly fail at observing ... morning devotions can feel useless, not nearly as important as getting about my business early in the day.  I know from bitter experience that when I allow busy little doings to fill the precious time of early morning, when contemplation might flourish, I open the doors to the demon of acedia ..."

She goes on to describe how this influences her whole day, until:

"... It is as if I have taken the world's weight on my shoulders and am too greedy, and too foolish, to surrender it to God."

In writing both spare and eloquent Ms. Norris describes her path away from this, until:

"... the key that would set me free is already in my possession.  Worship has often proved to be that key; although on the surface it seems useless it is also necessary, a means of reconnecting with other people when acedia or dejection has isolated me.  Worship grounds me again in the real world of God's creation, dislodging me from whatever world I have imagined for myself."

For Ms. Norris, "worship" means coming together with others in religious body.  For me, that sentiment is smart, true and lifesaving, when I see that my "worship" is meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous.

NOT in the sense that AA is a cult or that I worship the organization (if you can apply such a word to the anarchic loony bin which is the fellowship of AA), but in the sense of coming together with others who share my problem(s) and who are also on a spiritual path, seeking a connection with their Higher Power through our common difficulties and solutions.

The routine of morning prayer and meditation, and consistently coming together with others in meetings (Ms. Norris's "worship") are things AA literature outlines as foundation pieces to my sobriety -- and as Kathleen Norris also points out, a powerful way to ward against, or come back from, acedia.

Sometimes I need the fresh perspective of others who trudge the "road to happy destiny" in their own fashion (following sometimes a more traditional religious course, as Ms. Norris does) to discuss challenges to spiritual growth and remind me of how important the familiar tools are as I work to continue walking in the sunlight of the spirit ... and to staying sober.

Expectations

Expectations are the midwife to our resentments.

Keeping score? Part 2

One way Alcoholics Anonymous opens the door wide for any alcoholic who seeks a message of recovery in its steps and suggestions is that you need not subscribe to anyone else's idea of how God, the Universe or The Great Whatever works.("God as you understand God.")

Sometimes I think this broad, blank slate can be a greater challenge to people than being told something specific, which they may or may not agree with.  That is, if someone hands you a blank piece of paper and says, "Draw a tree!" you may not like it, but you have something specific to work with or complain about.  If someone hands you a blank piece of paper and says, "Draw whatever you wish..." some of us sit and stare at the page, with no clear idea or inspiration to prompt us forward.

Thus, (speaking only for myself, which is actually always the case, even if my writing gets a bit carried away at times) while wrapping alcoholic heads around new spiritual concepts in sobriety, some old beliefs, lurking around our consciousness, old guilts and childish fears, can perhaps color new thinking about how this "Higher Power as you understand them" runs things.  We start to fear that the Volcano God is keeping score.

Finding a personal understanding of God which works for each of us can subtly, easily, get tangled with ideas of bad and good, reward and punishment, rather than drunk and sober, sick and recovering.

As I have sought to understand a Higher Power which would work for me, I found that it became important to see the difference between my thoughts versus my attitudes and beliefs.  I imagine it this way:  My attitudes and beliefs are the stage upon which my thoughts enter and say their lines.

Alcoholics Anonymous encourages a good deal of self examination (which is not the same as self obsession, but we've already wrestled with that a bit).  Sometimes I think it is possible to become so focused on the dialog in one's head that the underlying beliefs and their subtle (but powerful) influences go unnoticed.

And sometimes my passion for these discussions fuels a certain declarative style which really isn't in keeping with the spirit of AA.  So how about this:

If you find that your thinking is more superstitious than spiritual when it comes to cosmic reward and punishment being meted out for your "good" and "bad" behavior it's probably just some weird old attitude in your head interpreting the disease of alcoholism (and your recovery) in moral terms, rather than medical ones.

An illustrative analogy to consider:  If you make your sailboat seaworthy, clean the hull, tighten the ropes, trim the sails, etc., when the wind comes up, is catching it and sailing well God giving you a reward for being a fully prepared, "good" sailor -- or just you making the most of a hoped for result by doing the right footwork in preparation?

AA'ers talk a lot about doing the footwork and letting go of the results ... for me I must be constantly careful of finding my thoughts standing on the stage in my head, talking about footwork and results, but surrounded by attitudes regarding reward and punishment.

(And the next logical extension of this is the belief that no matter the result which follows my footwork -- wind or no wind, in the above example -- it's neither reward nor punishment, neither a good thing nor a bad thing, but events as they are supposed to be via God's Will.  And on that score, this story was always helpful to me.)

The real question from all this:  If we keep keeping score, and fixing the game so that we're bad and wrong, then what is that mental loop feeding?  Self obsession?  Certainly.  Sloth?  ("Since I'm bad I don't have to try...")  Ouch.  Probably.  Paving the way for relapse?  ("Since I'm so bad and wrong I'm not worth saving and/or I'll never get it ...  so... eff it...").  Potentially.

Over the years I found that these attitudes keep trying to creep in, and it has been a constant weeding process to remain free of them.

<sigh> words words words a storm of words... but sometimes, when I hear people share and they are troubled and struggling with these issues, ideas, principles -- some of which can either truly bolster or seriously erode a foundation in recovery -- it sends me down these paths which, for better or worse, I feel compelled to share here.

Keeping score? Part 1

Listening to some sharing over the weekend, I just wanted to jump up and shout, "God is not keeping score!  The Universe is not keeping score!  YOU are the only one keeping score, and it is making you crazy!"

But then, what do I know ... maybe God and/or the Universe IS keeping score.

If so ... man, I hope they're lousy at math.

poetry and certainty

TWO GIANT FAT PEOPLE

God and I have become

like two giant fat people

living in a tiny boat.

We keep bumping into each other

and laughing.

Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz (c. 1320 - 1389)

Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

There were about 30 men in the meeting.

We sat roughly in a circle, and ranged from 4 days to 29 years sober.

The speaker, while telling a little of his story, shared something he used to be ashamed of, and as he did so he chuckled -- not in the sense that it was a silly thing to be ashamed of -- it wasn't, actually -- but in the natural and spontaneous way of someone who used to be ashamed of something but no longer was.

As the meeting progressed the speaker's reminiscence prompted similar memories from others in the room, each man offering either a lopsided grin or rueful chuckle as they described their own experiences along those lines.

Eventually the meeting bubbled with mirth, and that special giddy relief sober alcoholics feel when they look back at their sickness and compare what it was like then to what it is like now, free from such soul crippling disease.

Sitting there I thought of Hafiz's wonderful poem, and how it is a special kind of healing, this shared laughter, these chuckles and giggles over things which used to twist our guts with shame.

It struck me, listening to the meeting chortle and reflecting on the poem's delightful image, that I bump into God and we share a laugh almost every night of the week, in rooms where many others are in on the joke too.

At the very end of "Bill's Story" -- Chapter 1 in the book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) -- while talking about both AA in general and the day his friend Ebby brought him the simple ideas which became the program we know today, Bill wrote:

"Most of us feel we need look no further for Utopia.  We have it with us right here and now.  Each day my friend's simple talk in our kitchen multiplies itself in a widening circle of peace on earth and good will to men."

For me, what Hafiz wrote is beautiful poetry.

But what Bill wrote is beautiful certainty.