Bit of a Chat

I had a bit of a chat yesterday with Spandex who's upset about a large societal issue over which he has no control.  I feel his pain - this large societal issue is sticking in my craw, too.  I spent some time afterwards composing an email that I forwarded to him, emphasizing the usual and time-tested coping techniques of The Program: don't try to predict the future, manage what is in your ability to manage, dwell on the positive and not the negative.  For some odd reason I have been able to take this stuff to heart more quickly than he has in the present circumstances.  I don't know why this is - god knows there are all kinds of weird, small things, much smaller than this episode, that I can't get past without a mighty effort.

So I've been pondering the balance thing again.  I want to use these coping techniques while simultaneously not being an idiot about the facts of life, either.  I can "accept" things a lot better and a lot faster when I'm getting my way.  If I break my leg I'm not quite as accepting.   And if you break your leg I'm a whole lot more willing to accept the event.  Most people don't want to hear my tired crap about acceptance when they're the ones struggling to accept something.

The point is to try to be positive without sticking your head in the sand.  It's OK to be upset about things especially if they're upsetting things.

I recall vividly a story this sales manager guy shared in a meeting when I was trying to get sober. Proactive to a fault, he was always studying and reading and trying to do what he could to be more successful.  He starts reading all of these books about assertiveness.  He's just going to get you do to what he wants by being enthusiastic and in charge.  Then he moved on to books about positive thinking whereby he began slaughtering people with cheery good will.  He's on the golf course one day, playing abominably, and projecting an air of assertive positivity.  After several holes of this tiring routine, one of his business colleagues says: "What's the matter with you?  You do know you're in the sand trap, right?"

Big Disasters, Little Miracles

So I'm at my 7AM meeting today.  It was a very good meeting - a feisty friend of mine kicked things and then called on people who don't often talk instead of letting the aggressive loudmouths who think their message just HAS to be heard fall all over each other clamoring to be heard and I'm looking at YOU, Seaweed.

I'm slightly distracted by the fact that I have an appointment to have a tire repaired on my Very Expensive Car.  I ran over a screw.  I don't know where all of these screws are coming from.  I'm starting to think that some shadowy character knows my routine and is scattering construction debris on the roads that I normally use.  I'm slightly miffed by the fact that I recently replaced all of my Very Expensive Tires due to normal wear and tear, ran over a screw almost immediately and had to re-replace one of the tires which survived a few months before I ran over another screw - or maybe it was the same screw, what do I know?  I suspected this event would result in a re-re-replacement of the tire.  My car has Run Flat tires or what we in the business call Tires That Can't Be Repaired.  Personally I'd rather have tires that go flat when they ingest screws but then can be repaired.

The meeting finishes up and I head down to take a walk on the beach before my mid-morning car appointment.  I get a hundred yards or so before popping into a public restroom that mostly serves as sleeping pod for our local homeless population.  My timing is good - the stall has just been cleaned.  I put down the lid , unfasten my trousers, and sit down . . . on a nice, warm seat.  I mean, it was nice.  It was luxurious.  I felt pampered.

"WTF?" I thought.  "Have they installed some of those new hi-tech toilets that vibrate and massage your rear and cleanse any unpleasantness with a stream of soothing water before gently swapping your posterior with gardenia-scented toilet water?"  It seemed an extravagance for a beach toilet but I wouldn't put it past the public works folks here in Vacation City.  We know how to party.

Turns out, after some sleuthing, that the source of the toasty toilet seat was the morning sun, pouring through the open door and right onto the future throne of one Little Stevie Seaweed.  I took it.  Oh, yes, I did.

Tire was ruined.  Still enjoyed the pooping.

I'm Working on Intolerance . . . And Impatience. . . And Anger . . . And . . . And . . . And . . .

Recover: To get back; regain; to restore to good health.

Here's a phrase from our literature, written by a physician who was a great friend and supporter to our Fellowship,  describing our founder and some of the other early members: "This man and over a hundred others appear to have recovered."  The word "recovered" pops up in the literature from time to time in what I have always perceived as a pretty innocuous, non-controversial context.

I personally haven't analyzed the shit out of this particular concept.  In fact, I never really paid any attention to the word.  I personally believe that I'm an alcoholic and that if I drink again I'm going to have some problems, some serious problems.  I don't get too wrapped up in the semantics of what I was or what I am now, preferring to believe that me and alcohol are not cool together, no matter what label I put on anything.

 Here in Vacation City there's this weird little clique of people who make a big deal out of being "recovered."  They seem to imply that they're fixed or something.  They say: "I'm Seaweed and I'm a recovered alcoholic."  I never like people who add window dressing to their "I'm an alcoholic" statement.  It seems like a self-centered call for attention, an attempt to make their disease a little more serious or their recovery a little more remarkable.

Their very vocal ringleader spends a lot of time suggesting - in meetings, for god's sake - that a regular meeting-attenders simply substitute one type of addiction - drugs, alcohol - for another type of addiction - The Fellowship.  He tells us all that he's going to take a year off from attending meetings which he does every so often but not nearly often enough for my tastes.  I'd be remiss if I didn't admit I'd be happy if he took a decade or a century off from time to time.  I bet we'd get along just fine without his judgmental point of view.

Don't get me wrong - I'm glad he's sober and I frankly don't care what he believes about alcoholism.  We are, after all, a group of people who wouldn't ordinarily mix, and a lot of the strength of The Program comes from all of this diversity mixing it up and trying to get along.  Still, I wish he'd shut the fuck up.  To me it's like a guy who doesn't enjoy football going to a football game with a lot of guys who love football and bitching about football the whole time.  Don't go to the game or shut up already about it's not a baseball game.  It's a football game!

I think if you want a pass along a terrible message to the newcomer it would be "you're weak if you come to meetings."  That's a terrible message.  And the terrible action following up this terrible message is to disappear for a while with all of your experience, strength, and hope, such as it is, to let the rest of us mortals go it alone.  What if all of us with some time decided, very selfishly, to go off on our own for a while?  I'd hate to think what my recovery would have been like if everyone with some time decided that meetings were a waste of time.

But why listen to me.  Here's what one of our founders said concerning his regular attendance at meetings: "Because in so doing I'm paying my debt to the man who took time to pass it along to me."

Post-Recovery

I have a friend in The Fellowship who has been making some steady progress in his attempts to stay sober and not be an asshole all of the time.  Believe me - I'm sympathetic.  While I have been off the booze for a while the not-being-an-asshole part is a little trickier.  I can often spot someone who I think is making the progression through The Steps.  I think I can see growth spurts in people who are really giving The Steps a whirl.

The anecdote is that he struggled to find steady employment, apparently preferring getting fired to getting a paycheck.  Finally, he got a good job in a field where he has some expertise, only to be promptly transferred to a new store that was a long drive from his home.

What do we do in those cases, post-recovery?  We bitch.  We complain.  We make a not-that-bad situation worse.  We make ourselves miserable and poison our environment.  Or we figure out that our job is to suit up and show up and do the best we can, confident that we can't see the future with any clarity.  My buddy would give me wistful updates about making the best of it whenever I brought up the situation.  Go to work, work cheerfully while at work, stay at work until quitting time, don't try to run the universe, not necessarily in that order.

Of course after a few months he got transferred to a store close to his home.  The transfer was effected because he was doing such a good job that he was promoted.  It is not, apparently, that hard.

A Metaphorical Slog

Trajectory:  Metaphorically, a course of development, such as a war or career.

I find it comforting to recall that the overall trajectory of my life has taken an upward course.  I find this especially comforting when things aren't going the way that I want them to go, when I'm having problems of money, power, and sex, the inevitable problems of money, power, and sex, the ones I've had for years and the ones that I'll continue to have, and also when events in the outside world aren't to my liking, when I'm failing to control everyone and everything to my liking.

Things have gone up.  Relentlessly up.  There are always dips and bumps in the upward trajectory but the overall track has been up and up, steadily up, like a line drive home run still climbing as it clears the center-field fence, lost in the bugs and humidity and gloaming of a July evening.  I need to be careful not to stare at my feet as I hike, looking at all the rocks and sticker bushes, transforming a wonderful experience into a painful slog.  I need to look up at the magnificent vista ahead or around at the magnificent views over the landscape below.

It's going to be OK.  It's always going to be OK.

The Big Lie

Some observations gleaned from powerful people in the public eye.

If a person lies and lies and lies then I'm a fool to believe the validity of anything that person has said.  That person is not going to be inconvenienced by a promise that they've made.  I really try to speak truthfully at all times.  Sure, sometimes I exaggerate and embellish and pretend that I know something with great certainty when I'm sort of winging it, but as a general rule you can take anything I say as the gospel truth.  I cannot stand the feeling that someone doesn't trust my words and I loathe getting caught in a lie.

Unfortunately, I have a natural ability to lie and I enjoy lying and I have a long, storied history of telling lies, all facts which hinder my truth-telling abilities.  Nonetheless, when I slip and when I'm caught I 'fess up.  I don't shrug my shoulders and say: "Tough shit."

If a person has a lot of good qualities and a few bad ones, or conversely, a lot of bad ones and a few good ones, I try to evaluate the overall body of work. I try not to throw out the baby with the bathwater, so to speak.



Sometimes I see people who are so enamored with a single thing that they can put up with a whole lot of bad things, which is a bad thing.

To Consterne

Consternation: Amazement or horror that confounds the faculties, and incapacitates for reflection; terror, combined with amazement.

From time to time there are events in my life that cause me great consternation.  This is as it should be and as it will undoubtedly continue to be.  I no longer expect life to deliver nothing but good news to my inbox.  I'm going to be have problems of money, power, and sex, and the world will affect me in ways that I find unpleasant.

The amazingly horrible fact here is that some part of me continues to cling to the illusion that this is preventable, controllable.  I am, after all, two years old emotionally.

When I was getting sober I frequently stopped by the Program coffee shop after my evening meetings.  There was a rotating group of men there, sitting around drinking coffee and bullshitting about everything.  These guys had jobs and wives and kids and houses and money in the bank and cars that always started when they turned the key in the ignition, things that I could only wonder about.  I sat on the periphery of the conclave and tried to soak the wisdom in. Ironically, I can't recall a single instance of getting specific advice about working The Steps but I do remember clearly the sense emanating from these guys that everything was going to be OK in the long run, that things were going to work out for the best.  I needed this sense of hope, consumed as I was by wave after wave of impending doom.

Doom:  Destiny, especially terrible.  (Ed. Note: This is an excellent definition).

I try to remember today that the trajectory of my life has been relentlessly upward.  There have indeed been ups and downs and starts and stops, but the curve has curved higher and higher.  I am far better off today than I was a while ago.  I'm not always better today than I was yesterday but I'm always heading in the right direction.

So whatever great tragedy has darkened my doorstep today won't mean shit at some point.

Post Old City Blues

When I lived in The Old City I sought the advice of a financial adviser who I knew from The Program.  In fact, his wife actually sponsored SuperK for a while.  Nice man, thoroughly trustworthy, completely honest, a little whacked with his political views but all in all a solid resource for me as I tried not to do anything especially stupid with the small amount of money that I'd managed to save. And I stuck with him even when he drifted away from regular attendance at meetings.  He stayed sober and his advice usually seemed measured and reasonable, although I didn't always heed said advice.

A few years ago he changed the focus of his business and when SuperK and I declined to follow him down this new path he said some things to me that I found unduly harsh.  We had a lot going on with all the moving so it was just easier to leave the money invested with him even though he pretty much cut off all communication with us.  Finally, we made the effort to engage a new adviser here in Vacation City.  I try to be a stand-up guy so instead of simply booting this dude to the curb I picked up the phone and gave him a call to explain that we were moving on.  Frankly, some of the reason is that it's nice to have a resource available that isn't . . . you know . . . 2500 miles away.

Well, why I expected that to go smoothly is beyond me at the moment.  While he didn't shout obscenities and hurl invective he was not gracious, either.  And what did I expect from an alcoholic who isn't actively working on his recovery, anyway?  I got what I got, I guess.  But it was important for me to try to do the right thing or what I perceive as the right thing.

Distraughtness

Supplicate: To ask for earnestly and humbly.

One of the supplications I supplicate for in my morning meditation - what else do you do with a supplication, anyway, but supplicate it? - is that I be shown how I may be of service to another person during the day.  I don't know anything about the "earnestly" part and I'm pretty unclear about the "humbly" part, too, but I supplicate to the best of my ability.  Continuing my theme of extreme wariness about praying with special wariness about specific prayers I figure that this entreaty is vague enough that it can't boomerang back and whack me in the head.

There's a very, very nice woman who is always at my morning meeting who suffers from some kind of mental or emotional disability.  She's a good member in good standing who arrives early to an early meeting so that she can help set up the room and make the coffee.  But talking to her can be a challenge, you know?  She can't hear very well and she tends to get emotional and hard to follow.  Being an outgoing sort I figure that one of the ways I can be a member of good standing myself is to make sure that everyone at the meeting feels welcome.  I know who the regulars are and I'm alert to anyone who isn't engaged in the ebb and flow of the meeting aftermath.

The other day I inquired about this lady's grandson who is bouncing back and forth between unstable parents.  Boy, did I get an earful.  Fifteen minutes later, standing in a completely empty room, all of my friends and colleagues long gone, the people I really wanted to talk to, and she hasn't come up for air.  She was very emotional with the weeping and distraughtness and everything.

I thought: "This is being of service to another person."  And I don't want that to sound like I think I'm some special guy for taking the time to talk to this woman - I just asked the right question at the right time to someone who needed to talk, and isn't that what we're supposed to be doing?  Now, we're best friends.  

Simple as that.

May You Be Happy

Courage:  The quality of a confident character not to be afraid or intimidated easily but without being incautious or inconsiderate.

I don't remember why I wanted to look up this word.  Nonetheless, it's a good word.  "Incautious" means reckless.  It's good for me to balance a lack of fear with a healthy fear.  I did a lot of stupid stuff when I was drinking.  Ah, who am I kidding - I do a lot of stupid stuff today, it's just somewhat less stupid.

I've been doing a guided meditation where the theme is to imagine 4 different characters: yourself; someone you know well and love deeply; someone you know by sight but not on an intimate personal level; and someone you really don't like.  I guess "imagine" is the wrong word as it implies believing in something created in your own mind.  I'd say "envision" is a better choice.  I have no interest in creating myself in my own mind unless I can be a rock star.

On a side note SuperK and I went and listened to some blues last night and we hit the dance floor for one song where I found out that I am definitely not going to be able to pirouette around for a two hour set as the lead guitarist for a hard rock band called KonKrete or Master of Disgust.

Spandex complimented me on a recent blog where I explored the meaning of a few different words so now, of course, I'm getting carried away although that might imply that someone is picking me up and carrying me away and good luck with that.

The point of the meditation - before I forget what that I'm talking about - is to consider these visualizations for a bit and then to recite the following affirmations.

May you be happy.
May you be healthy and well.
May you be free from mental and physical suffering.
May you live without fear and have peace in all ways.

Now "may" means expressing a wish and a "wish" is a thing desired or longed for.

Am I being kind to myself and to those I love and to the people who I run into all of the time but don't know well and to the few individuals that are forcing my brain to override my body's basic desire to choke the shit out of some asshole who desperately needs it?

You tell me.

Urban Wictionaryapedia

Some more words that I've looked up so that I may better understand a concept, and then have promptly forgotten many, many times.

Expectation:  The prospect of the future; grounds upon which something excellent is expected to occur; prospect of anything good to come, especially of property or rank.

Yeah, well, there's no baggage with that concept.  Why would I ever be disappointed when I expect the future to offer up something excellent in the areas of stuff or prestige?  I don't know why they didn't add sex so as to cover all of the three instincts that cause me so much trouble.

Acceptance:  A receiving of something offered, with approbation, satisfaction, or acquiescence; especially favorable reception.

Yeah, well, what the hell does that mean and why don't I ever do it?  So the idea is that something is given - no qualification as to whether it's good or crappy - and I receive it favorably.   Good luck with that.

Acquiescence:  To rest satisfied, or apparently satisfied, or to rest without opposition and discontent (usually implying previous opposition or discontent).  

The italics are mine.  I needed to make sure that I understood that acceptance implies that I don't bitch when the shit I didn't like didn't get fixed to my satisfaction or the thing that I wanted - be it money, power, or sex - didn't land magically in my lap.  I get something I'm OK with it.

Linear:  Made in a step by step, logical manner.

Shifting gears here a bit in my pompous wordsmithing I offer up this concept that has come up often in my Grief Group; as in, recovering from loss is not linear, you don't progress on a pre-determined time frame.  I'm impressed with how well some people have gotten along and surprised at how  mired some others are in their grief.

The Labyrinth Is Not A Maze

Labyrinth:  We are all on the path... exactly where we need to be. The labyrinth is a model of that path.

A labyrinth is an ancient symbol that relates to wholeness. It combines the imagery of the circle and the spiral into a meandering but purposeful path. The Labyrinth represents a journey to our own center and back again out into the world.  Labyrinths have long been used as meditation and prayer tools.

A labyrinth is an archetype with which we can have a direct experience.  We can walk it.  It is a metaphor for life's journey.  It is a symbol that creates a sacred space and place and takes us out of our ego to "That Which Is Within."

A labyrinth has only one path. It is unicursal.  (Ed Note: Unicursal is an excellent word).  The way in is the way out.  There are no blind alleys. The path leads you on a circuitous path to the center and out again.

A labyrinth is a right brain task. It involves intuition, creativity, and imagery.  With a maze many choices must be made and an active mind is needed to solve the problem of finding the center.  With a labyrinth there is only one choice to be made.  The choice is to enter or not.  A more passive, receptive mindset is needed.  The choice is whether or not to walk a spiritual path.

At its most basic level the labyrinth is a metaphor for the journey to the center of your deepest self and back out into the world with a broadened understanding of who you are.

There was a labyrinth at the retreat center.  Because I didn't know the purpose of a labyrinth I had never given one a shot.  Contempt prior to investigation, right?

I did a little research on the history of the labyrinth as a prayer and meditation tool - the above definition is a distillation of what I found.  Then I did a little research on suggested techniques for strolling the labyrinth.  Such as . . . 

1. Releasing (Purgation). From the entrance to the center is the path of shedding or "letting go." There is a release and an emptying of worries and concerns.

2. Receiving (Illumination).  At the center there is illumination, insight, clarity, and focus. It is here that you are in a receptive, prayerful, meditative state.

3. Integrating (Union). Empowerment and taking ownership.  The path out is that of becoming grounded and integrating the insight.  It is being energized and making what was received manifest in the world.

So I walked it twice, each trip taking about a half of an hour.  I tried to get rid of those things that are hindering me on the way in and then to open up to new suggestions and ideas on the way out.  (Ed Note: The original text for The Fellowship was called "The Way Out.")

My wish was that I would be able to leave some things there.  Not forget about them but move past them into the present, into the now, to feel as if I've been released from a hold that each of them had on me.  I'm not naive - I don't expect this to be a White Light experience but more a transformation of the educational variety.

I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time.