Like, Whatever, Dude

This is from today's Daily Reflections, our A.A. approved literature where members comment on an idea or concept from our Program that resonates with them personally: "When I uncovered my need for approval in the Fourth Step, I didn't think it should rank as a character defect.  But today I still enjoy getting the approval of others, but I am not willing to pay the price I used to pay to get it.  I will not bend myself into a pretzel to get others to like me.  If I get your approval, that's fine; but if I don't, I will survive without it."

I know this is a big theme in my own personal reflections.  I also know I have to guard against a little bit of self-satisfaction, a little smugness, in this approach to the world, as if I'm a "I do whatever I want" kind of dude.  That approach leads to selfishness and insensitivity.  However, one of the greatest freedoms I've been blessed to receive in my recovery is that I'm not so dialed into what you think of me.  I enjoy approval; approval often means I'm behaving pretty well so there's that; but if I am acting unauthentically, if I'm not being Stevie Seaweed, then . . .  then .  . . what the fuck, you know?  It's uncomfortable moving through life changing my behavior and beliefs so that you'll like me.  Most people like me or they're neutral, detached, and that's all well and good and is as it should be.  And there are a few people - I hope it's only a few - that find me off-putting.  Why would I think this is not the normal state of affairs?  If everyone finds me irritating then maybe I can take a longer look at my behavior but as long as it's a smallish subset of people that seems pretty reasonable.  Again, there are people out there who are popular and well-liked but leave me with that foul, metallic taste in my mouth.  Why this is shall remain a mystery but it seems to be the way of the world.

It's Enough Already With All of the People

Today after the morning meeting I spent some time working the room as people filed out.  This is really my favorite part of the meeting.  The "meeting" part can be tedious and long-winded sometimes and it pains me to say that if by "pains me to say that" you mean "doesn't really pain me to say that."  I'm not stating for a fact that some people are tedious and long-winded but they sure as shit strike me that way from time to time.  Some people interpret the three minute timer as a suggestion similar to the one that everyone should always stop at a yellow light.  It's not a three minutes for everyone else timer - it's a three minutes for you timer.  Other people interpret the three minute timer as a mark that needs to be hit before they stop talking.  It's not a marker indicating that you have to completely fill up the entire three minutes.  It's a timer telling you that holy shit, you've talked for three minutes in a room with thirty people.  I like to hear myself talk as much as the next person but three minutes?  That's the Gettysburg Address for chrissake.

I'm way, way off topic here.  The topic isn't self-righteous indignation although that is probably one of my Top Five topics.  Anyway, I try to track down people who have something going on that I perceive they may want to expound upon at more length than is seemly during the meeting itself.  I like the back and forth of a one on one conversation.  I try to be the last one to leave the meeting room so that anyone who wants/needs to talk gets the opportunity to do so.  Then, as I made my way down to the beach, I had an hour conversation with an old friend from high school; a guy I love dearly and enjoy talking to immensely but c'mon, an hour?  That's Einstein solving the Theory of Relativity for chrissake.   I had mentioned to a great friend from the meeting that I'd be available for a cup of coffee if he wanted to unburden himself a little about a life issue that was really sticking in his craw.  When I hung up the phone with my high school friend, verbally exhausted, I texted this A.A. friend  that I was headed his way and could meet but since his window of opportunity was pretty narrow that day I'd be fine postponing until he had more time.  My fervent wish that he would want to postpone.  Nothing but love to both of these guys but the post-meeting conversations and an hour phone call put me about an hour and a half over my Tolerate People time limit.  To my consternation he was worked up enough that he really wanted to meet that day.  I was simultaneously flattered to be of service as an A.A. long-timer and annoyed that I was going to be involved in another long conversation that wasn't primarily about me.

Hey, don't worry: I survived.

Paintings and Music

One of my favorite pursuits in my retirement has been trying to increase my knowledge of art and in this musing by "art" I'm referring mostly to paintings.  SuperK and I spend the occasional few hours in art museums and both of us find this time to be immensely enjoyable.  For me it wasn't always like this.  I felt that I needed to "appreciate" a particular painting and that I needed to spend hours and hours looking at every painting in a museum.  This bored the shit out of me, temporarily ruined my back and feet, and left me a foul, metallic taste in my mouth.  In short, I was not eager to hurry back to a museum.  It was an odious chore.  I felt less than intellectually and physically exhausted.  It was not the definition of fun.

Today we like to linger in museums but only for a few hours and then we go take a walk outside, letting the feeling of the art wash over us, bubble up with impressions and recollections that needed some time to marinate before the significance and beauty became apparent.  Today we give ourselves permission to like something or to shrug our shoulders and say "meh."  I find it helpful to read a few paragraphs about the artist in question because this can provide insight as to what he or she was trying to accomplish, and then I can reflect on the piece through the filter of information that experts with more knowledge on the subject than me have.  Other than that I take what I like and leave the rest.

I'm much more knowledgeable about music than I am about art.  I like some kinds of music and some kinds I don't.  I love the blues and I can't stand country music.  I'm not suggesting that one is better than the other but that one releases endorphins into my bloodstream and one doesn't.  I can read about country music until the cows come home and still never become a country music fan.  Don't know why this and don't care.  I listen to what makes me happy.  I don't struggle with country music trying to "understand it" or to "appreciate" the artist.  It doesn't move me.  Why should I subject a painting to a more stringent analysis?

Ghosts in the City of Death

As we discuss the Fourth Step more Promises are expressed  . . . 

"Once we have taken this Step, withholding nothing, we are delighted.  We can look the world in the eye.  We can be alone at perfect peace and ease..  Our fears fall from us.  . . . we begin to have a spiritual experience.  The feeling that the drink problem has disappeared will often come strongly."

"If you don't break your ropes while you are alive, do you think ghosts will do it after?  

The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic just because the body is rotten - that is all fantasy.

What is found now is found then.

If you find nothing now, you will simply end up with an empty apartment in the City of Death.

If you make love with the divine now, in the next life you will have the face of satisfied desire."

Kabir, mystical Indian poet

I love the image of an apartment in the City of Death.  I can't imagine many nice apartments in that city.  I'm not wondering whether or not I should be on Zillow looking for an apartment in the City of Death.  I love the image of ghosts helping you along after you die, doing things for you then that you should be doing now.  I'm not afraid of ghosts but I don't really want them helping me along.  In my mind they don't appear as particularly helpful in the pursuit of anything.  I will express again the continuing personal revelation of discovering in every spiritual path that I investigate, in every way, shape, and form, the reminder that all we have is right here, right now.  Don't be nice tomorrow.  Don't do anything tomorrow.  Don't be nice today because the reward is down the road, after you die.  What's the fun in that?  If being nice is a chore that I only undertake in anticipation of eternal bliss my life is going to be a slog in the mire.

"We have only now, only this single eternal moment opening and unfolding before us day and night."

Jack Kornfield

The Pied Piper

The compartments we create to shield us from what we fear, ignore,and exclude exact their toll later in life.  Ya gotta pay the piper.  In fact, ya gotta pay the pied piper.  Apparently not just any ordinary piper.  I, personally, have never paid any pipers anything.  

As usual I distracted myself.  The piper in question (pied is an word dating from the Middle Ages meaning multicolored) promised to lead a plague of rats that were enamored of his piping out of the town of Hamelin, Germany during the Black Death when fleas that infested the rats carried the virus that caused the devastating Black Death were responsible for countless deaths in the town.  The piper did his work but the town reneged on his payment.  The piper took his revenge by piping a shit-ton of the town's children out into the wilderness where they were never heard from again.  Funny how a lot of these old children's stories are really quite grim when you dive into them.

Where was I?  My point is that without knowing it my spiritual practice can easily continue a pattern of fragmentation in my life if I set up artificial divisions defining what is sacred and what is not.  If I call certain practices, prayers, and religions "spiritual" and exclude everything else.  I try to remember always that there is a great interconnectedness in life.  Between the hearts and minds of people but also with all living things, animal or vegetal.  I mean trees talk to each other through their roots or through the air.  How is that not spiritual?      

A Tibetan teacher with the really simple name of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche put it this way: "Spiritual materialism is how we can imitate the outer forms of spiritual practice, its costumes, beliefs, culture, and meditations to hide from the world or bolster our own egos.  The wholeness and interconnection with all life is the mark of a mature spiritual being."   

Thy Will Be Done

It should be noted that "thy" is a stupid way to say "your."  Unless you are heavily invested in nineteenth century religious literature which I can bet is not something you're heavily invested in.

Bombard:  To assail vigorously or persistently; to attack (a place or person) continuously with bombs, shells, or other missiles.

I like the second half of the definition better.  "The best defense is a big offense."  I don't care what you're saying because I'm going to say more than that.  And with more vigor and ire.  Defend, deflect, deny, attack.

It is when we try to make our will conform with God’s that we began to use it rightly.  Our whole trouble had been the misuse of willpower.  We had tried to bombard our problems with it instead of attempting to bring it into agreement with God’s intention for us.

At no time had we asked what God's will was for us; instead we had been telling him what it ought to be.

I was hoping that at some point I would be provided with a special red alert phone that connected directly with God so I could lay out my do's and don't's for the day. I cannot find this phone. I have never been able to locate this phone. In fact, I'm more likely to lose a phone than locate a direct phone line to God.

We had not even prayed rightly.  We had always said “Grant me my wishes” instead of “Your will be done.” 

Gimme Gimme Gimme! Now Now Now!

We consider our plans for the day.  Before we begin, we ask God to direct our thinking, especially asking that it be divorced from self-pity, dishonest or self-seeking motives. Here we ask God for inspiration, an intuitive thought or a decision.  We relax and take it easy.  We don’t struggle.  We are often surprised how the right answers come after we have tried this for a while.

As we go through the day we pause, when agitated or doubtful and ask for the right thought or action.

We ask especially for freedom from self-will, and are careful to make no request for ourselves only.  We may ask for ourselves, however, if others will be helped.  We are careful never to pray for our own selfish ends.

. . . we try to ask for those right things of which we and others are in the greatest need.  And we think that the whole range of our needs is well defined by that part of Step Eleven which says ‘. . . knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.’ 

This whole idea of thinking about other people really sticks in my craw. It's really an unfair request to make of me. I have no interest in doing this and I have no experience in doing this and I have an elevated skill set that enables me to think about myself at the expense of others. It's hard to stop a battleship under full steam. (I'm the battleship here. That's me.)

This, of course, is the process by which instinct and logic always seek to bolster egotism, and so frustrate spiritual development.

Shape-Shifting Seaweed

"More than most people the alcoholic leads a double life.  To the outer world he presents his stage character.  This is the one he likes his fellows to see.  He wants to enjoy a certain reputation, but knows in his heart he doesn't deserve it."

Bill W must have been a theater buff because he uses the analogy of an actor or a director in a few different spots.  It's a good image.  We're great at trying to run the world and we're masters of presenting an image to the outside world - a false image more often than not.  I know I was a mystery to most people when I was drinking because I was a mystery to myself.  I didn't know what I liked and what I didn't like so I shape-shifted into whatever I thought you liked or didn't like.  I spent so much time doing shit I didn't enjoy because it seemed to be what other people were doing, and vice versa.  It took me a long time to figure out who I was and that's an amazing fact to ponder in a thirty year old man-child.