A God or The God?

One of my favorite movies is "Groundhog Day" starring Bill Murray.  Oddly enough given the cast of comedic actors the message is very spiritual.  The premise is that Murray's character is a self-absorbed prick who is in Puxatawny to report on Groundhog Day and he gets stuck in a time loop where every day starts out with him reliving Groundhog Day.  Nothing he does seems to change this so he starts to engage in self-absorbed activities: drug use, crime, manipulative sex and is dismayed to find out that each day gets more and more frustrating and banal.  He starts committing suicide to no lasting effect - he wakes up again on Groundhog Day.  He finally confesses to a coworker that he might be God.  She's skeptical.  He says: "I didn't say I was the God - maybe I'm just a God."  He doesn't think he's omnipotent just that he's been around for a long, long time.

Don't we all feel that way from time to time?  That we're God?  I do.  In fact, I feel that way almost all of the time.  I think any wisdom I may have accumulated isn't because I'm wise but rather that I've done stupid things so many times, over and over again, that I finally figure out that I shouldn't do these stupid things.  Does that sound like wisdom?  Or does it sound like the reaction a chipmunk would have if you shocked it every time it touched its food dish?  You wouldn't call the chipmunk wise - you'd say it got tired of getting shocked   Maybe I'm not even a God.  Maybe I'm a chipmunk.

So the character begins to behave generously.  He takes thousands of Groundhog Days to learn how to play the  piano and he helps a homeless guy and he buys tons of insurance from an annoying agent.  Things turn out well.  Eventually, he wakes up and it's Groundhog Day plus one and he's escaped the loop and re-entered linear time and all is well, all is well, all is well.

I'm not sure at the moment whether the point is to encourage all of us to good behavior or to convince everyone that I'm a God.

This and That

I pinged my A.A. daughter a few days ago just to check in.  A while back I told her that she was a terrible Millennial because she never texted me.  "Eh," she quipped.  "I just wait for you to text me."  THIS is why I love this girl.  Anyway, the text landed at the right time because she had gotten an update on her real father - homeless, with no real desire to change - that she found upsetting.  Smart woman that she is she did the right things and worked through it.  I think my text helped but the work is hers to do or not to do.  I reflect and share my belief that your mother and father are your mother and father - good behavior or bad behavior, close relationship or not, intimate connection or distant - and it's not possible to be non-reactive in a manner that's healthy emotionally.  They're your parents.  I know when my mom died my grief was pretty muted even though I was a mama's boy - I was on good terms with her and I didn't have anything left unsaid or any behavior I needed to have corrected.  My alcoholic, emotionally distant, impatient and volatile father, however, passed and I suffered when it happened.  Part of me wondered if I couldn't have applied the tools I learned in my recovery life to have been more understanding.  Who knows?  The point is that we're connected with our birth parents and that's that, nothin' you can do about it.

There's a boy at the meeting who is about the right age to be my son. He is the nicest, kindest man you could ever hope to meet.  He takes everything to heart, makes everything his fault, and feels it deeply, deeply, deeply.  I try to tell him every time I see him what a special person I think he is.  I think he needs this feedback.  He stands there and looks at me like I've tased him.  Such an easy kindness on my part!  Such an easy gift to give and a heartfelt one at that!

I got a text before the meeting yesterday from the guy I know who expresses a little too much interest and lavishes a little too much attention on the younger women in The Program.  His actual behavior has been okay but I've never approved of it.  I don't think that kind of attention to women is helpful in the long run - at the very least it keeps them from interacting with . .  . you know . . . other women - and I can't imagine that there is a subtext that stresses out his relationship with his wife, despite his insistence that he loves her deeply and is deeply committed to her.  SuperK is completely understanding when I share something about my A.A. daughter but she also finds it irritating from time to time.  Completely understandable.  It makes me peer at my behavior very closely.  Sometimes it's not the behavior but the fact that it is attention I've giving to someone else and not to her.  Yesterday we picked up a floor mat at the car dealer, had lunch, and did a little outlet mall shopping.  It was fun and it was with my wife.  It didn't have to be a huge extravaganza - it just needed to be something between the two of us.

Just Another Big-Ass House

I used to deal with the world in a transactional fashion - if I gave I wanted to get.  I became annoyed and enraged if I did something for someone and it wasn't reciprocated in a manner that pleased me.  And I expected that others would think about me before I thought about them.  That was the hallmark of a "winner."  Getting without giving, Hoo Boy, that was some sweet shit.  Today?  Not so much.  I work diligently at giving with the critical caveat that I should have no expectation of return.  I tell people that you can make me happier but it's hard to make me sadder.  I send out a text.  If you reply I feel good - if you don't .  . . maybe you're busy, maybe you forgot, maybe I'm no big deal in your world.  All good.  I've learned - most of the time - to give generously.

So then there's my sister . . .  I do not today and have never had a close relationship with my sister, my only living blood relative.  My sister is a perfectly fine human being.  My sister values status and appearance and she often has a blunt, somewhat insensitive manner.  She is much more attached to these things than I am and her irritation when I've succeeded in these areas is pretty obvious.  In my opinion it's as important to her to have more than you as it is to have something.  To compound her bedevilments, she married a brilliant man and kept working while he went back to school (s) so that he could get advanced degrees, and then watched in frustration as he puttered around and never made much of a success of himself in the business world.  Business requires a healthy amount of competitiveness.  In The States we don't have capitalism - we have Brute Capitalism.  It's the lions versus the gladiators.  He didn't have that kind of fight.  In the academic world you studied hard and rose in the class rankings.  In business, you tried to kill your opponent and take his women and castles, metaphorically speaking.

Anyway, one day he came home and said he'd quit his corporate attorney job and never really had any financial success after that, so my sister had to go back to work so they could afford health insurance, which indicated to me some strains in their finances.  All of this is none of my business and I've kept my nose way, way out of it.  We've never been in touch on a regular basis and this has only become more pronounced as we get older.  I don't think she really likes me.  I'm sure she loves me but I think I irritate her with my lifestyle.  I'm quite happy to report I don't really care - I try not to wave anything in her face but if I irritate her that's on her.

Anyway, they finally retired, sold their Big Ass house, and moved to a warmer climate.  I assume that a lot of the money to do this came from the gains accrued from the appreciation in their Big Ass house.  Good for them.  Downsize, simplify, detach somewhat from the need to keep up with the Joneses.  Because her birthday is coming up I asked for their new address and - curious - took a look at the house they bought.  Holy Mother of God, it's a huge four bedroom house with a big sun porch and a hot tub and a pool on a good-sized lot.  Their children are long gone and they don't know anyone in their new state.  I mean - WTF? Right?  I confess to a little penis envy right out of the chute - I want a Big Ass house, too, yeah? - but then I started doing the calculus.  How do you furnish a place that big?  Who's cleaning it?  Who's cutting the grass and maintaining the landscaping?  How much does it cost to heat and cool that place?

Mostly, I'm pleased to be free from all of that grasping and accumulating.  That is one of the miracles of my recovery - to enjoy what I have without needing more and without trying to top anyone else.

The last time I visited home I didn't tell my sister.  I wonder under what circumstances I'll see her again?

Stealing From Monks

I told SuperK this morning that one of her greatest gifts to me was letting me be who I am.  I can't imagine this is always easy.  I'm not a person who behaves in a conventional manner.  This must be irritating to a much more normal, conventional person.  I believe that a relationship goes through a few phases.  First, when you're falling in love you can overlook aspects of the other person you don't care for because you're in the thrall.  Then, after a while, shit starts to irritate you so the natural inclination is to try to change the other person, to mold them into the person you'd like them to be.  I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing - SuperK showed me that there were times to be unconventional but that sometimes that could hurt my chances when I was in a more conventional situation.  But then comes the critical point: letting the other person be their own authentic self.  This requires tremendous personal, spiritual growth.  SuperK talks about coming to the realization that I was just being me and that it didn't reflect on who she was.

We were in Japan several years ago in a city that has a lot of famous shrines and monasteries.  I asked a local guide about one of the most famous sites.  He said: "If you want to go there I'd suggest getting a guidebook - these are written by people who have done a lot of research and know more about that shrine than I'll ever know.  However, if you want to get a little off the beaten track . . .  " and then he suggested a few less well-known temples.  Wow, I'll forever be grateful that he did that.  We took a taxi to this big complex and walked inside, free to explore on our own.  We kind of stumbled around for a minute until one of the staff who spoke a little English noticed that we were lost and offered to ferry us around.  She was so great - she'd explain the importance of a room or exhibit and then she'd stand there quietly while we absorbed it all.  If we took a minute, she waited for a minute.  If we needed five minutes, she waited for five minutes.  She did not talk after her initial explanation unless we had a question.  At the end of the complex she bowed politely and dissolved into the background.  There was an older monk sitting at a table with some literature laid out in the final room - this guy looked like he was a monk right out of central casting: orange robe, shaved head, big, thick glasses, beatific smile on his face.  We chatted with him for a minute and then he said: "I think, right now, you are the happiest couple in the world."  Well, yeah, we bought a book after that comment.  He took a minute to inscribe something inscrutable on the inside cover and then we were off.

In The States I'd have chalked that up to some sales bullshit from someone trying to sell me something but in this environment I believe that man saw something in how we carried ourselves and spoke a truth.  Sometimes it's hard to hear a compliment.  I'm a suspicious, paranoid guy by nature, often suspecting some kind of jive or angle.  But, you know, I do believe that if you work The Steps and live a spiritual life then you start to give off an aura.  People feel your peace, they sense it, and it makes them feel calm and good.  I believe this monk has so trained his mind that he has a great intuitive feel for peace and calm and good intentions.

Oh, yeah, I shoplifted some shit from the monastery.  That monk was a sucker.  I know an easy mark when I see one.

Man, Is the Boat Guy in my Head

When I don't know what to do I don't do anything.  I cannot TELL you how difficult a skill this has been for me to learn.  I'm a charge-into-the-future kind of guy.  I like to make shit HAPPEN and the fact that sometimes I don't know what to do rarely impedes me.

I like the analogy of a canoe on a river.  I would take my canoe and put it in the water and start to paddle furiously upstream because that's where I wanted to go.  It just never occurred to me to turn the canoe around and go downstream and see what was around the bend.  In other words if I have a round peg and there's a square hole I go get a huge hammer and pound on that goddamn stupid peg until it's in the fucking hole.  THAT'S problem solving.  There's nothing that can't be fixed with a bigger hammer.  That's why we have sledgehammers.

"When we ask for guidance, instead of direct results, the right path always seems to unveil itself."

The Grapevine

"We may believe that by thinking of the problem, we are working on a resolution.  But we are really only dwelling on the futility of the problem.  It's only when we are released from worry that we can see solutions clearly.  How can I free myself from worry's constraints?"  Unknown writer.

"Physical fear is a natural reaction to a clear and present danger.  Irrational fear triggers that same physical reaction, but there is no actual physical danger present.  The main causes of irrational fear come from making assumptions or projecting about some future event."  The Toltecs

Funny how when I do the legwork that suggestions and possible solutions to problems pop up.  The above passages seemed appropriate to me as I make the Boat Guy a bigger problem than he really is.  How important is it in the big picture?  This is not that important but I naturally tend to worry that it's going to get worse or it's never going to end and that any possible solution is going to end up in an angry confrontation.  

"Projecting some future event," indeed.

When I keep my mind open - vis-a-vis the Boat Guy, for instance, these little reminders pop up and help out.

Neighbors Are the WORST

When we retired we moved into a community where the residents have to be over fifty-five.  You can, apparently, go out and get a trophy wife if you want to after you've moved in but even then she has to be forty.  No twenty-five year old trophy wives.  We like it here.  We weren't sure we were going to but it ends up being a nice place to live if a little dowdy and doddering at times.  It's quiet; we know our neighbors; everyone takes care of their little properties.  No kids, no large dogs, no semis parked on the street.  A while back the park management decided it would be acceptable for an adult child to move in with a parent as long as the child is serving as a "caretaker" if by "caretaker" you mean a "shiftless ne'er-do-well who's still comfortable living with their mother."  I'm being unkind here for comedic effect but you've either got to be really selfless to live in a mobile home with your mom or you're not doing too well in the real world.

So a sketchy looking dude moved in with his mother in the home right behind us and - at some point - his mother moved out.  So we've got a middle-aged handy-man working on cars and trucks and boats fifty feet from our bedroom while using the backyard to store a ton of crap that would do the term "trailer-trash" justice.  Since we got back we have enjoyed a woman yelling at the dude at midnight (gratefully quieting down when I stepped outside and said "hey, guys" to alert them to the fact that they were disturbing others although at that point she did suggest that she needed to get something out of her truck which was apparently parked in the dude's driveway and was inexplicably locked and politely told me I might just have to call the police which did get the dude's attention because the ruckus quieted after that; a lot of grinding gears and backing noises the next night as the dude and his friend backed a large boat under the small canopy; and finally the commencement of The Grinding phase where the dude is doing some kind of work on the boat that involves the destruction of something metal, intermittently, I'm so pleased to report.

I'm sure approximately none of this would pass park rules but the manager is very conflict-adverse, preferring to isolate in the management office most of the day instead of circulating among her people.  So what do I do?  Confront the sketchy due respectfully face-to-face and risk pissing an occasionally volatile man off who lives fifty feet from me?  Rat to the manager who will either do nothing or say something to the dude who will probably know immediately who's complaining and then I'm in the same boat (hah-hah) that I'd be in if I took the first course of action; or do nothing, hoping the work won't last too long and feeling grateful it isn't a constant irritation?  Sometimes I do things that end up making a situation that really isn't that bad much, much worse.  Sometimes I sit back and take it when I should do something to remedy a situation where I'm in the right.

I've talked to a few people.  I've kicked ideas around with SuperK.  I'm writing about it.  At this point I have no good feel for a right course of action which I've learned that I should not - yet, at least - take any action.  

Very frustrating for an action-oriented self-righteous guy who has The Law on his side in this particular instance.

Yadda Yadda Yadda Blah Blah Blah

Here's a couple of good thoughts from stories found in The Grapevine . . . 

"It's a great day when things are going well and I don't drink, and it's an even better day when everything goes wrong and I don't drink."

"And as it turns out, the less I obsess over getting my way, the more life seems to cooperate.  I used to think my legacy would be stamped on an award or etched into the cure of some terrible disease, something grand, something undeniable.  Who knew the real achievement would be this - living a life well won."

I struggled - still struggle sometimes, to be honest about it - with the mundane aspects of life like bathing and using the toilet and sleeping and going to work and all that boring crap that makes up  so much of life.  I wanted life to be the first Friday night at the start of my vacation week, the booze and drugs starting to work their magic, at the top of a big ass roller coaster right before the car starts to fall over that big first drop, the LSD just starting to hit . . .  THAT'S life, right?

That's bullshit is what that is.  Sobriety allows me to take a great deal of pleasure in the simple act of living.  I could not imagine an existence where that would be the source of deep satisfaction.  It sounds so . . . boring, so mundane, so routine, yadda yadda yadda blah blah blah.

"We are sure God wants us to be happy, joyous, and free.  We cannot subscribe to the belief that this life is a vale of tears, though it once was just that for many of us.  But it is clear that we made our own misery.  God didn't do it.  Avoid them, the deliberate manufacture of misery, but if trouble comes (Ed. Note: As it surely will - you can take that to the bank), cheerfully capitalize it as an opportunity to demonstrate his omnipotence."

Alcoholics Anonymous P. 133