Faith?

Faith:  Unquestioning belief; complete confidence or reliance: as, children usually have faith in their parents.


Once again I must admit that I CANNOT BELIEVE I have not looked up the definition of faith in almost 4 years of postings.  That tells you something about my interest in the positive.  I've looked up fear so many times that the page has crumbled into dust.


I don't believe that these mythical children who have faith in their parents turn out to be alcoholics.  We don't have faith in anything except, ironically, our own decision making abilities, which is the last thing we should have faith in giving our lousy track record of doing things and the dire consequences of our decisions.


My meditation this morning again drifted into reflection on how everything seems to work out as long as I keep kicking the can down the road.  My goal is to get up, brush my teeth, and start kicking the can.  I don't try to pulverize the can with the biggest kick ever in the history of mankind and I don't cower in fear that the can will begin to kick me back.  I'm pretty sure that the can would win any kicking contests where I'm the opponent.


If there's one thing I've learned in The Program it is to Keep the Faith.  No matter what I have had to go through the lesson is that it's all going to work out in the long run.  My problem is that I don't like the long run.  I don't like to run at all.

Moving

 If you want to be miserable try moving.  It’s a misery maker.  As a general rule I’m kind of a change junkie – the change itself makes me insane but I find it stimulating and strangely comforting to try new things – but moving is too much change all at once.  Anxiety attack kind of change.  And as far as my new place is concerned, I have been vigorously exercising my previously mentioned ability to uncover the fault in the faultless thing, to discover fault where no fault exists, to boldly go and find fault where no man has ever found fault ever before!  It’s also quite compelling for me to do this.

The guys that moved our possessions were all in The Program.  First of all and most importantly, they were professionals who did a great job.  If they had smashed up our stuff the extra benefits they brought along would have paled.  The thing SuperK and I really appreciated was the optimism and good humor they brought to their work.  They really helped make a stressful situation much less stressful.  I’ve moved many, many times and I can honestly say this was as close to pleasant as it has ever been.  They were complimentary about our new place and this made us feel good, even if they were lying.  Point out the good in the change, not the downside.    And we got to chat about The Program during breaks.  They made suggestions about furniture placement.  They didn’t approach this as an evil task that needed to be completed as soon as possible.  And they pointed out that we needed to get rid of some things because we no longer have the room – I appreciate this honesty, too.  If someone is complimentary all of the time then we call that lip service.  I want to know when I’m messing up.

I called the company owner the next day and tried to explain this.  I know that I have trouble sometimes understanding how to be of service to my fellow man during the routine parts of my life.  I wanted him to know that I really felt like the work he and his men did was in part service work, a spiritual thing.  I shared how great I felt when I got notes from my customers thanking me for my effort when I was making money selling them things.  I wasn’t in the category of Sleazy Salesman trying to make as much money as possible.  I felt like I was a technician trying to help someone solve a problem.  It was a very good feeling.  It made me see how important to my peace of mind and general well-being it is to simply do my best as I live my life.  I used to spend so much time thinking Big Thoughts about service that I didn’t notice how rude I was to the clerk at the Plaid Pantry.

I still had an anxiety attack my first night at home.  I’m getting better, not getting done.

Listen to My Own Advice

I spoke at meeting this week.  I was brilliant, of course.  That goes without saying.  Funny, warm, insightful, capable of solving all of the world’s problems with a wave of my magic wand.

And then I woke up, and I was still me.

Anyway, people were sharing about some of the stresses associated with the holiday season.  I've been through a number of holidays and I'm OK today with the whole deal.  I'm not suggesting that this peace of mind wasn't hard earned and slow to come but I no longer take the holidays that seriously.

"What did you get last year?" my sponsor asked me.  "You don't remember, do you?  Then how important was it?"

The jist of my share was that it's not that important.  By "that" I mean "anything."  It's going to be OK.  I don't even know what the topic is but I know it's going to be OK.  I realize this doesn't sound too profound but, man, is there any advice more appropriate to any situation than that?  In my case everything has worked out in the long run.  I just have to trust in the process even though the current moment might be uncomfortable.

I talk the talk but do I walk the walk?  We moved yesterday.  Everything went very well but a move is a move is a move; in a word: traumatic.  Today I try not to make unimportant things important and I also make sure that I don't pretend that stressful things aren't stressful.  I was lying in bed last night, hyperventilating, battling an anxiety attack, wondering where all of that insightful advice had gone.  I'm an alcoholic; I can find the problem in any situation.

Uh, it's going to be OK?

React.

I'm all over the place.


"Are you talking again?" said my sponsor, putting his arm around my shoulder in a reassuring fashion.  Either that or he was getting ready to break my neck, which I probably deserved at the time.  "Haven't I taught you anything? Do yourself a big favor and try not to talk today."


We pause when agitated.  In my case the advice is to pause when awake.  Then extend that pause for the rest of my life.  If I compare the number of times in my life when I shouldn't have said anything but did anyway to the number of times when I should have said something but didn't, the ratio is like a billion to one.  Still, my tendency is to REACT.  I know everything.  I know what's best for you and if you would only SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE then I could straighten you out.  Hang on a second while I get a pen and paper from the box I'm living in temporarily.


I knew a guy once who was homeless for a while.  He lived in a box in some woods near the river.  "I had a condo with a pool," he'd tell people.  I heard another guy share that he got kicked out of a detox center once wearing one tennis shoe.  Where the other one was he had not a clue.  He took off walking . .  in the winter. . . in the snow.  Somebody took pity on him and gave him a cowboy boot for his unshod foot.  His mood brightened and his resolve to stay sober melted in the summer sun.  "This isn't too bad," he thought, deciding to drink again.


During the holidays be careful not to let family and friends push your buttons.  Me, I'm all buttons.  Everything is a button.  I'm one huge red button marked with these instructions: "Push Here!"


It's just another day.  Everything is going to be OK.

Solution V. Problem

Problem:  Very difficult to train or discipline: as, a problem child.


There's a great AC/DC song called "Problem Child."  You really should listen to it.  Not only are the lyrics great it has a chord progression that will rattle your breastbone.


Anyway, I don't want to get distracted here with AC/DC.  God forbid I get rolling on Black Sabbath.  I'd never get anywhere if that happens.  The point is that I have a tendency to dwell in the problem.  I'm familiar with the problem.  I've spent a lot of time there and it's a weirdly comforting place for me to be.  I conjure problems out of thin air and then I try to weasel out of the consequences.  It never occurs to me until it's too late that maybe I could simply avoid problems or work on solutions that would prevent their existence or alleviate their intensity.


Solution:  The act, method, or process of solving a problem.


I believe that one of the great strengths of The Program is that it constantly forces me to circle back around to the the solution.  This is not someplace that I want to go.  My nature is to feint, prevaricate, and delay until the problem is avoided.  I love that meetings in The New City invariably start out with someone reading a section from one of our books.  That's where the solutions are found.


Let me give you an example.  Let's say SuperK is mad at me.  This is the problem.  This is a BIG problem.  If I choose to live in the problem then I'll deny that I've done anything wrong or I'll go on the offensive (the best defense is a BIG offense) and point out things that she has done wrong in the past, which is a not so clever way of avoiding the present.


I really don't need to hear other people share stories of arguments with their spouses.  Sometimes it's helpful over coffee or after a meeting because it helps me feel less isolated, but what I truly need is to hear some solution talk.  Acceptance.  Locating my part in the argument and then trying to correct that behavior.  Compassion for someone else who may be having a bad day. 


Yeah, that kind of stuff.

The Monsters Are Running Wild

Big change always makes me consider what a gift I have for accentuating the negative at the expense of the positive.  Positive thinking is for quitters.  It takes a real master of successful living to ferret the negative out of whatever situation is confronting me.  And I'm  not talking about seeing the negative when I have the flu or SuperK is yelling at me.  That's child play.  Any idiot can feel bad when things aren't going his way.  I'm talking about getting depressed because I'm going on vacation.  


There's not a situation that I can't make bad.  In my mind.  Where it's dark and gloomy and the monsters are running wild.

Checking In.

Checking in with the Minor Buddha this morning I heard this: "You can't make radical changes in the pattern of your life until you begin to see yourself exactly as you are now.  As soon as you do that, changes flow naturally."


Scholars agree that Buddhism got rolling in the 5th or 6th century, more or less.  B.C., that is; not A.D.  That would make Buddhism about . . . let's see . . . subtract the two, carry the sum of all of your defects plus any current resentments,  divide by Pi . . . well, that would make it really old.  Slightly older than The Program.  And what did I find in this ancient philosophy?  Until I do a searching and thorough personal inventory I don't have a very good chance of growing as a person.


I love how our literature is always trying to get the focus off of "them" and back to "me."  Keep looking inside.  Keep searching for the solution to all of my problems inside me.

Resentment

Resentment:  A feeling of displeasure and indignation, from a sense of being injured or offended.
(Ed. note: I cannot BELIEVE that I have never used this definition in one of my postings.  That is beyond belief).


Our Program suggests that we are powerless over people, places, and things.  It also suggests that there is nothing more injurious to our peace of mind and threatening to our sobriety than a good resentment, carefully prepared and well-seasoned, watered, weeded, and protected from wild animals with sturdy fencing.  If I spent ten percent of the time nurturing my gratitude as I do on my resentment building, I would be one $#!! grateful dude.


Regarding resentment toward "people," I say: "Duh."  People are the worst.  They get in my way.  They impede my progress.  They do it wrong, and this makes me mad, so I resent them.


Regarding resentment toward "things," I say: "Whuzzat?"  I'll have to think about that a bit.  I'm going to toss institutions in this category: the guvmint, the cops, employers, anyone with power over me, which I must by nature and nurture resent because they are doing it wrong, and this makes me mad, so I resent them.


Regarding resentment toward "places," I say: "Boy, do I have a resentment over a place right now and I'm having trouble shaking it."  When the place arises in pleasant conversation I accentuate the venomous immediately, surprising myself with the venom level.  That's messed up.  That's being resentful at the nature of something.  That's like being resentful that electrons get to circle the nucleus of the atom while the stupid protons and neutrons just get to hang out in one vibrating place.  Talk about something that is out of my control.  And the place generating this resentment is perfectly fine.  Almost everything that I resent is perfectly fine.

Action!

Action:  Behavior; habitual conduct.


I'm fascinated still with the difference between actions and intentions, between what I say and what I do.  "Talk is cheap," someone once said.  I think it was my sponsor.  


I'm a world class talker, a legendary intend-er.  I talk and talk and talk, then I go out and behave in a way that has little to do with what I've said.  Talk is cheap.  Talk is easy.  Behaving well is much more difficult than intending to behave well.  How do I behave?  What were my actions?  That's where the rubber hits the road.  I don't even believe half of the crap that comes out of my mouth.


I believe that this is why so many of us get frustrated with politicians and organized religion and other institutions.  We hear people -- important, powerful people --  say one thing and then behave in a way that is completely opposite.  It seems often to be hypocritical.  No one likes to be called out by someone who is not behaving very well, especially when they're criticizing you for something that they are doing themselves.  It's much the same as being lectured to about your drinking by someone who doesn't drink.


As Homer Simpson says: " I HATE to be called a liar.  Unless I'm lying or about to tell a lie or have just finished lying."  This is why The Program is so compelling.  We're not prodded to do what someone says.  We're encouraged to sit in the corner, with our coat pulled up to our ears and our mirrored shades on, and watch the behavior of our recovery mates.  We find someone who behaves in a way we find attractive and we talk to that person.  There are a lot of people who talk real purty in the rooms but don't back it up with good behavior.

Ho Ho Ho

I find that around the holidays I tend to be reflective about family, family matters, and family family family relationships.  Boy, is there a wide range of family dynamics out there.  I'm not sure that The Program is any better or any worse than the rest of the world when it comes to the family.  There are some wonderfully traditional families; there are some horribly dysfunctional families; and there are a lot of pretty typical families that alcoholics like to imagine are much worse than is really the case.   We tend toward hyperbole with everything.


I have lived a good chunk of my life away from my family and I often feel guilty about it.  This is not surprising: my family is masterful with guilt.  This is why I'm a egomaniac with an inferiority complex.  I never feel like I'm doing it right because the feedback I get is along the lines of: "You're not doing it right."  Nobody ever admits to this, of course, or actually says this.  They prefer silences and meaningful sighs and back channel gossip and all other manner of passive aggressive behavior.  The consequence is that I don't miss these people all that much.  It's easier to live a long, long way away from them.


I feel guilty about this.


I have been soliciting feedback from my non-alcoholic friends who chose to move away from their family of origin.  Nobody seems to be very guilty about it.  Some people don't see their families very often at all.  Herr Luber told me that he was expected to go out and make his own way in the world.  I'm not under the impression that the people I'm talking to have relationships that aren't good, either.  


I have not made the slightest effort to return home for the holidays.  I'm not interested in doing it at all.  It would be more painful than not going home.  Now, if I try to maintain some balance in my life -- an impossibly daunting task for an All or Nothing guy like me -- I should point out that no one has made an effort to come visit me.  I don't even ask because the possibility of that happening is non-existent.  I'm expected to inconvenience myself but that's as far as it goes.  


I would get a meaningful sigh.

Do Not Jab Your Eye With a Sharp Stick

I took a phone call yesterday from a friend who is a little conflicted about his behavior.  I personally wasn't conflicted at all with his behavior.  I thought immediately that what he was doing was out of line but I kept my mouth shut, a surprising turn of events all by itself.  I try to remember how I was treated when I was getting started -- how I'm treated today -- and I managed to work up the courage to bring up a matter for discussion.  By and large, I didn't get any "You idiot!" or "You're wrong!" pronouncements.   Instead, I got peppered with questions that helped me explore the issue from all angles so that I could see for myself what I needed to do.  Once, I asked my sponsor for an answer on a delicate matter and he laughed in my face.  "No sir, I'm not going to take any crap from you if this doesn't work out the way you want it to, " he said.  


We help each other investigate things so that we can make good decisions on our own.  A big part of this is that some of these matters are very complicated and frankly, we don't know what we're supposed to do.  Another big part is that we haven't done a very good job of running our own lives so we don't think we should try to run anyone else's.  It's bad enough when I screw things up personally, affecting people close to me; it's another thing altogether when I attempt to screw someone else's life up.  I keep my advice to simple matters; "Don't stick your hand in that running machine" and "look before you cross the street," stuff like that.


That being said I also tell people what I think.  I stress that what I think is my opinion and nothing more, and is not advice that needs to be followed or is even any good.  Nonetheless, all of us have some good ideas.  I know I've learned things from smarter people by listening to their advice on matters on which they may have more experience or wisdom than I do, which is almost every matter known to man.


Oh, yeah, don't pour gasoline on fire, either.  I'm comfortable with that advice.

It's Not Them.

The chairwoman for this morning's meeting (SuperK, by the way, who did a super, super, super job) read a couple of paragraphs from Step 8.  She then shared a short anecdote that showed how she had to apply the principles found in the Step to The Real World.  I find the Real World to be such a drag most of the time.  It's not as much fun as Steve's FantasyLand, which is where I've spent much of my life, daydreaming my time away.  Rock star.  Romantic legend.  Sports icon.  That's me.


I'm always flabbergasted when I see that each Step revolves around the idea that I need to focus on taking care of my own business.  This Program makes me come back over and over again to the idea that the problem is me; hence, the solution is me.


When I spoke I had to trot out my favorite old EdRom anecdote.  A friend of his would call his sponsor, who recognized the number on his caller ID.  He would answer the phone by saying: "It's not them.  It's you."  Then he would hang up.


That's pretty good advice for me.

Whole Lotta Horseface

Compromise:   A settlement in which each side gives up some demands or makes concessions.


SuperK and I have been looking for a more permanent residence since our midnight arrival in The New City.  The New City is a lot more expensive than The Old City.  There are some reasons for that but the problem is that I don't want it to be more expensive.  I want it to be LESS expensive but that's not working out very well for me at the moment.  There are some other compromises that I could consider but I'm not very good at compromising unless the definition of compromise is "to get exactly what I want when I want it" which it clearly is not.  In fact, I believe the real definition makes some reference to "giving up."


Everything always comes back to powerlessness and ceding control.


Anyway, our options were to move further away from the downtown area to where rental properties are less expensive or to move closer to the downtown area and rent something with less space.  Under some duress, we decided to go with the less space option.  The problem with this is that there is going to be a whole lot of SuperK and a whole HELL of a lot of Horseface in one pretty small place.  This is the only drawback, really, so it's the thing I'm going to concentrate on.  I never let a good problem go to waste even if it's only a potential problem.  There isn't anything that I can't work up into a good problem.  I'm quite good at this task.


SuperK and I have been married for a couple of centuries so we've worked out a lot of the niggling issues that sink relationships.  Also, we don't have children.  Couples without children don't have much of a buffer in their relationship so they typically have to make allowances for the other person or sink beneath the waves.  Kids are compelling that way, drawing a lot of attention, which can be a blessing and a curse.  With the emotional stress and physical demands of the move beginning to take their toll we're doing a little sniping at each other.  Not awful sniping but sniping nonetheless.  While this is to be expected it will also bear some watching.  When emotions are closer to the surface a little extra maintenance is a good thing.


Whole lotta Horseface.

Forever and Ever

Forever:  For eternity; for always; endlessly.


The Minor Buddha has this to say: "We get stuck in the 'if only' syndrome.  If only I had more money, then I would be happy.  If only I could find somebody who would really love me, if only I could lose 20 pounds, if only I had a color TV, a Jacuzzi, and curly hair, and on and on forever."  


On and on and on forever and ever and ever.


My sponsor whacks my graying head frequently with the "This Too Shall Pass" bromide, with a thump.  When times are good, when times are bad, and even when I'm just bored he reminds me that the feelings are going to pass.


I do well to remember that it's not the stuff or the money or the relationships, it's how I crave them and hang on to them at all costs.  It's OK to have these things as long as I don't pursue them ferociously.  And when I manage to get a few of them I'm happier when I hold on to them loosely.


Curly hair?  Really?

Productive

Productive:  Producing abundantly; fertile.


So the frustrating thing about the Quiet Time is that it doesn't seem to be especially productive.  I don't feel like I'm getting anything done.  I'm not going anywhere; I'm not checking tasks off a master list; I'm not moving about forcefully and with great purpose.  I'm JUST SITTING THERE with my eyes closed listening to my %#!! breath.


I'm all about getting something productive done.  When someone asks: "What did you do today?" I feel like I should have a weighty list of impressive accomplishments.  "Sat down for a while in a quiet place, with my eyes closed, and tried to listen to my breath," doesn't sound impressive, weighty, or accomplished.


Compulsion:  In psychopathology, an irresistible impulse to perform some irrational act.  Good word: psychopathology.  It combines psycho, which is how people used to describe me and my behavior, and pathology, a sickness of some kind.  Literally, a sickness of the mind.


It's OK to be productive and it's OK to sit and watch Oklahoma - Oklahoma State play a football game, even if you don't particularly like football and couldn't locate Oklahoma on a map of the United States and have no interest in who wins the game, even though everyone hates Oklahoma.


The idea is to be somewhat productive most of the time, not completely productive all of the time.

Shhh.

Quiet:  Still; calm; motionless.


I have always had a Quiet Time in the morning.  By "quiet" I mean "in a quiet location," not "my mind is quiet."  I try.  I put the time in.  I give it a shot.  I seem to feel better as time marches on even when the actual practice sessions don't seem too fruitful.


I used to mostly pray and meditate a little.  I've reversed the percentages over the years because my praying has been suspect.  I pray at god; I pray that I may get what I want or avoid what I would like to avoid; I pray that others may be helped as I believe they should be helped.  My prayers are always answered although I don't always like what the answer is.


Today I pray for a couple of simple things.


I pray that I be the best son, brother, and husband that I can be.  This isn't always easy or intuitive.  I have some irritating relatives who don't do it right but I've learned that doesn't have anything to do with me.  Me has a lot to do with me, and that's about it.


I pray that I may be of maximum service in the world, to my fellows.  I try to be open about exactly what this service entails.  I like to help people according to my own designs.  I like to help AT people, not FOR them.
"Here," I say.  "Let me help you with that," offering help that isn't wanted or isn't appropriate for the situation.


That's good enough for me.

It's All Good

Loose:  Not restrained or confined; free; unbound.

One of my favorite spiritual concepts suggests that I should try to wear the world like a loose garment.  I was not familiar with the idea of "loose" when I was drinking.  I wore the world like an extremely tight garment.  This garment did have the advantage of displaying my equipment for the whole world to see, like a band member from Spinal Tap, but that was about it.  I can honestly say today that the tightness of the garment was an impediment and not an advantage.  The beauty of hindsight.

When I try to sum up what my sobriety means, what my halting pursuit of spiritual principles has brought to the table, I can say with some small amount of honesty that I don't take things so seriously anymore.  Everything works out, more or less, as long as I don't try to get in there and tinker with the outcomes so what exactly am I getting so exercised about?

I took a vacation once to Belize.  The crappy hotel we stayed at had a go-fer named George.  George was not going to discover the cure to cancer.  He mostly puttered around, slowly, raking the sand, straightening up, and the like.  I liked George.  

"Morning, George," I'd say.

"It's all good," he'd reply. 

This acceptance is the result of a desire to seek a higher power and to try to listen to what the higher power has to say.  And I still get confused as to what this entails.  So I don't think about it much.  I give it my best shot.  I move forward, slowly, and try to get a feel for where I should head.  I take some wrong turns, I get lost, I fall in holes, but mostly I make a little progress each day.

It's all good.

Comfortable

Comfortable:   In a state of comfort; at ease in body or mind; contented.


I am able to say this with a good deal of certainty: I'm comfortable in my own skin.  This is not something I was able to say when I was drinking, a time of my life characterized by a jumping out of my own skin or of battling hordes of stinging insects that were tormenting my skin surface.  I couldn't see how all of my insides, bones and blood and whatnot, could be stuffed inside a skin that was clearly inadequate to the task of holding everything in one place.


My behavior fluctuated wildly.  It was not very consistent.  Well, I had no idea who I was inside all of that skin so I had no idea how to behave.  That's not the case anymore.  I'm an example of What You See Is What You Get, and I don't say that with any conceit or arrogance, or not much anyway.  I have a good idea who I am and I act accordingly.  I don't think it's too objectionable to the general public but I don't care that much.  Love it or hate it, I'm consistent.


"We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness."

Surging Rashly Ahead

Wait:  To be ready or at hand.


Ah, yes.  The alcoholic conundrum: to balance the springing into action part of life with the patient waiting part.  Actually, screw the "patient" part; that's beyond my abilities as a human being.  If I'm able to wait impatiently that's a big improvement over my usual course of action -- the surging ahead rashly technique.  Alcoholics are famous for this.  Male alcoholics are legendary.  We see a problem that needs to be solved and we begin to solve it, even though we don't know what the solution is and we don't have the tools to do the work and our history is to make virtually every problem that needs to be solved much, much worse.  Honestly, we're terrible and understanding what the problem even is.  We conjure problems out of thin air.


"We may not be able to determine which course to take.  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."


If I don't see a course of action right in front of me, right now, I get ants in my pants.  I figure I need to do something, anything.  The reality of the matter is that sometimes the solution is hidden to me for a while.  Sometimes I have to wait for the solution to be revealed.   I can't tell you how many times in my life an answer has been presented to me, custom-made and gift-wrapped, and often an answer that I didn't see coming.  If I had forced the issue earlier, I would have missed that opportunity later on.


Reveal:  To make known (something hidden or kept secret); disclose; divulge.
From the Latin revelare, to draw back the veil.


Surging ahead rashly v quaking in fear.

More Eel, Dear?

I wonder what was really served at the first Thanksgiving, in Massachusetts, in the freezing cold middle of the winter?  I bet it wasn't turkey, possibly the driest, most tasteless and unappetizing of all of the dead fowl meats.  Maybe turkeys aren't even fowl; they don't fly after all.  Maybe they're some kind of giant rodent or a feathered reptile.  If the Indians brought the meat I bet they didn't waste any time or precious arrows hunting in the snow for a smallish bird when there were huge moose and deer around.  There were probably fish and beans and squash.  I don't think potatoes were being cultivated in North America yet.  There certainly weren't any swine or cattle because the Pilgrims would have eaten them already.


I confess to disliking this kind of food.  Several years ago SuperK and I decided we could kill 2 birds with one stone and go someplace warm for Thanksgiving and Christmas both.  That way we got out of the cold while simultaneously managing to evade annoying family responsibilities.  One Christmas we drove to New Orleans.  As we were checking in to our hotel on Christmas Eve we asked the valet whether any restaurants would be open the next day.   He fixed us with a blank stare.


"All of them will be open," he said.


We had spent so many years in our conservative town that we forgot there were other ways to do things.  The roads were always eerily vacant when we drove to my parents.  It looked like the aftermath of some catastrophic virus or a neutron bomb.  In New Orleans we ended up in a jazz bar at noon, dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, for our Christmas dinner.  We ordered a dozen oysters, soaked them in hot sauce and horseradish, and looked at each other across the table.  We each raised one of the mollusks and tapped the shells together like they were crystal goblets full of some rare sparkling beverage.


"Best Christmas dinner ever," I said.
"Slurp," SuperK replied.


Ed. note: I did some research.  Foods at the first Thanksgiving in all likelihood included the following: deer, duck, seafood (including eels, seal, and shellfish), corn, and squash (including pumpkin).  Turkey maybe.  No potatoes, cranberries, dressing, or pies (no butter or wheat flour to make a crust.)  Lots of nuts and seeds.

Thanks-taking.

Thank:  To give one's thanks to; express appreciation or gratitude to.


I don't know where I got my ideas about what Thanksgiving is supposed to be like.  Probably from a magazine or a schmaltzy movie I've seen.  Maybe its an elaborate reconstruct from a bad acid trip.  I don't think it's a very accurate picture.  I don't think very many people have a Thanksgiving celebration that corresponds to my mental image.  I don't know very many, I'll tell you that, and I didn't have very many of them myself.  And I don't think that alcoholics as a general rule have families that are that much better or that much worse than most people.  We just bitch about them more.


Expectations are the bane of normal men and they can be a deadly curse for the drunk.  I embrace the idea that as my expectations increase my serenity drops, and vice versa.  To complicate things there can't be many times when my expectations grow more monstrous, more gruesome, more larger than life than around the holidays.  The idea that we need to dedicate a day to be thankful makes it sound like we're given a pass to act like asses all year long, then we're expected to cram all of our gratitude into one day.  I think this isn't as unusual as it sounds for many people.  Ignore the small blessings and then get together with people we don't treat very well or don't like very much and be totally fucking thankful.


I was in a small company once where the boss -- who I disliked immensely -- made everyone exchange names for Christmas gifts.  He got my name one year, of course.
"What do you want for Christmas?" he asked.  "Give me some ideas."
"How about you don't act like such an asshole?" I suggested.
He didn't have much to say to that, although his face reddened considerably, like a nice glaze on a Christmas ham.
"No good?"  I said, pressing my point.  "How about you leave me alone for the rest of the year?  How about you take this scrap of paper with my name on it and stick it where the sun don't shine?  


I didn't say those things.  I wanted to.  I also wanted to keep my job and vaguely remembered some crap about "restraint of tongue and pen."  The point is that it did feel very unnatural to try to manufacture good will and hale cheer like a trained seal.  If I can't be happy and grateful, sometimes, every now and then, once a week or so, then I really shouldn't attend special celebrations dedicated to the topic.


I really wish that there were White Castle restaurants in the New City.  That would be a good place to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Mr. Puzzlewit

Puzzle:    To exercise one's mind, as over the solution of a problem.


I used to think that life was a problem that needed to be solved.  Such a great concept on which to base my life: a never-ending series of problems.  I'm a problem person so I guess it makes sense that I took something lovely and made it a distasteful chore.


Today I try to think of life as a puzzle that needs to be put together.  A somewhat complicated puzzle.  Sure, there are some easy areas with a lot of detail and recognizable figures but there's also a lot of nondescript blue sky as well.  Have you ever seen one of those puzzles that's nothing more than a black canvas, all the pieces about the same shape and size?  That was my life before I got sober.  I sat there and looked at the pieces all day.  I was lost.  I never got anywhere.  The only time I made any progress was when I got out the pinking shears and glue, and made pieces fit.


Every day I get up and sit down at my puzzle table and get to work.  Some days I put together a whole section and some days I can't figure out where one $#!! piece fits.  Every now and then my consigliere comes over and whispers in my ear, and I have to tear out a whole section that I put together incorrectly.


But over the long run I make progress.  I can look back and see progress.  I've managed to ratchet down my expectations so that I don't insist on making a pre-determined unit of progress each day.  I do my best and I usually go forward.  Sometimes I sit still, idling, and sometimes I go back, but I take my place at the table each day.

Will Smith or Will Rogers or Will Farrell

Will:  The power of self-direction or self-control; the power of conscious and deliberate action or choice.


More from our basic text: "It is when we try to make our will conform with God's that we begin 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."


Our literature points out that there is a proper use of the will.  I was confused about this for the longest time.  We have a will and we're expected to use it.  The problems occur when we try to force outcomes to conform to our vision of the future, and it doesn't matter if our vision and kind and giving or totally self-serving.  I believe that our Higher Power expects us to get up and make some plans for the day, then point our hovercraft in that general direction.  Our Higher Power is not too thrilled when we ascribe this plan to him, her, or it.  Our Higher Power is perfectly capable of devising his, her, or its plan for the day.  No input from us is required.


Once again, I see the beauty of the middle ground.  Move forward.  Move forward aggressively and enthusiastically and with great purpose if you want.  But don't predetermine the outcome.  That's the improper use of the will.  The will is there.  The will is always going to be there.  We can't scrub away the will.  We can try to align it with god's purpose for us as best we can.

Free Range Chicken

More from the minor Buddha . . . 


"The fact is that we are more selfish than we know.  The ego has a way of turning the loftiest activities into trash if it is allowed free range."


You've probably heard of free range chicken.  I'm certainly no farmer; in fact, I'm forbidden by law to step onto a farm, for my own safety.  And I'm not talking about bulls and bucking broncos, either.  I'm the guy who would make the news for being trampled half to death by a herd of lambs.  No telling what the chickens would do to me, either, with the beaks and claw-like feet.  


Anyway, my understanding is that free range chicken get to ramble anywhere they want to, doing what they want, eating what they want, going totally ape-shit if they want.  That's my ego.  My ego is going ape-shit.  It runs the show unless I'm very, very careful.  It justifies anything that it wants for itself, no matter how destructive it is.  This is why I drank for so many years.  My ego said it was just fine.

Adaptation

Adapt:  To change (oneself) so that one's behavior, attitudes, etc. will conform to new or changed circumstances.


More problems of prosperity . . .


Sponsor materializing out of the haze and fog. . . "Again with the problems of prosperity?  Weren't you going to come up with a list of your other kinds of problems?  Like 5 years ago?"  This is one of the main reasons why I don't call him as often as I should.  He can be a real dick when he starts to point out the inconsistencies in my story telling.  (Ed. note: "inconsistencies in my story telling" =  lying).


SuperK and I have been looking for a place to settle down in a more permanent fashion (alcoholic permanence = anything over 98 minutes) in The New City.  The Big Move was a little sudden and we didn't know the city very well so we plopped down as best we could, in the rain and gloom and dark of a New City winter night.  And we're grateful-ish; we found a nice place to rent in a nice neighborhood.  Because it's too big and too expensive we've spent some time trying to find something more permanent.  Not an obsessive, got-to-get-this-done, find something absolutely, completely, positively perfect search, but a search nonetheless.


Every few weeks we would look at a home or two.  We didn't know if we would continue to rent or buy something but we knew we wanted to settle down in a place for a while.  Moving is for the birds or for the young.  We usually walked out discouraged; things were too pricey or we didn't like the space or the neighborhood.  It was hard on the psyche, to get your hopes up and then have them dashed on the rocks.  We did find places that we could make work and we tried to ratchet down our expectations.  We could "see" ourselves living here or there.


Those damned expectations.  The bane of acceptance.


We got a call from our real estate lady after we decided to throw in the towel on the buying option. One more place, recently discounted, in an area of town we fancied.  We walked in and knew it was right.  Being cautious, we wanted to sleep on it, aware that the discounting might make the place attractive to other buyers and cost us are chance.  But we are plodding, German peasants, after all.   We don't leap at very many things anymore.  There have been too many leaps into brick walls or over the edges of steep cliffs, towering above jagged rocks being lashed with freezing waves.


"So, I guess we need to put together an offer on this place?" I said the next morning, walking down the stairs to where SuperK was working on her computer.


"Pfffff!?!" she said, spitting a mouthful of coffee onto the wall.


Didn't see that coming.  We offered to buy the condo; the offer was accepted; whole thing took about 36 hours.


The whole point of the story is that I need to keep focusing on what's in front of me.  I can't get too high or too low -- steady as we go, Mr. Bosun.  I need to move forward and adapt, adapt, adapt.  I can't say: "Well, this is how it MUST be."


The condo is one bedroom.  That is a few bedrooms less than we have ever had.

"Someone's going to die after we move," SuperK said, as I walked out of my little office, done bellowing into my cell phone to a friend.
"Yeah, you're probably right," I replied, eyeing her less than organized living room.


You know, it'll be fine.  We're happy and grateful. I wasn't buying anything when I was drinking

Saturday, 8 AM

At 8AM today, Saturday, I was at a meeting listening to the chairman read out of The Doctor's Opinion from our basic text.  The section he read suggests that people drink because they like the effect it produces on them.  It makes them feel good and people like to feel good, so they drink alcohol.  OK, fair enough. The text continues on with a description of the alcoholic, the abnormal drinker, and the description becomes a little less flattering.  We are characterized as people who begin to realize that the drinking is harmful but can't manage to stop.  Then, we lose all sane perspective about what we're doing.  We take the knowledge that we're harming ourselves and stuff it way, way down inside, where the sun don't shine.  At that point we're officially insane, a fact pointed out in Step Two.


The text continues: our problems pile up and become "astonishingly difficult to solve."  Still, we keep drinking.


The chairman described the mental and physical release he got when he drank and used.  I knew exactly what he was talking about.  The drugs and alcohol made me feel that way, too: that burst of release and adrenalin.  Alcohol doesn't make non-alcoholics feel that way.  It may make them feel better for a while but it doesn't make them whole.  I was in pieces, as a person, and the alcohol put me together.  It wasn't better: it was nirvana.


I share, once again, the truth that I liked to drink and drug.  I liked how I felt.  I liked everything about it.  Trying new substances, out late at night, excited, on the edge, wallowing in the instant camaraderie so common among drunks drinking together.  Have you walked down the beer aisle at your local grocery store lately?  Holy shit, it's as beautiful to me as the most gloriously decorated holiday scene.


When I think about alcohol today my first reaction is positive.  I remember drinking in a favorable light.  Now, I don't dwell on this.  My training in The Program takes over and I think through the drink to the inevitable misery.  But that's why I was in a meeting at 8AM on a Saturday.  Because after 24 years my reaction to alcohol is still wistful and quaint.  I need to keep working on the spiritual solution to my disease that will help me resist something that I have no ability to resist on my own.

Mouths

Yesterday I said something to SuperK that I shouldn't have said.  This isn't the first time that this has happened.  I have a bit of a track record saying things I shouldn't say.  I knew I shouldn't have said it as soon as it left my mouth.  In fact, as it was coming out of my mouth I knew it.


"Why are you saying this, mouth?" my brain asked.  "This is a terrible thing to say."  You'd think that the brain would have more control over the mouth but it doesn't seem to work that way with me.  The mouth is firmly in control.


It's not productive at all to know I shouldn't be talking after I've finished talking or while I'm still talking.  The critical juncture is before I start talking.  This isn't a new revelation for me.  I've had this problem in the past.  You'd think that I would have learned by now what with all the broken bones and lacerations I've suffered because of it.


When I tell my friends: "Do yourself a favor -- try not to talk today" there's a method to my madness.  I mean, what do I care if someone else runs their mouth and gets in trouble?  Frankly, if it's not about me I don't care that much.  The idea is that I need to hear this advice.


Anyway, I was pointing out to her that she finishes most of my sentences for me.  She's not particularly good at it.  You'd think after 23 years she'd be a little better at it but what can you do?  Honestly, I could care less that she does this.  It's kind of endearing.  It's not like I do that great a job finishing my remarks myself.  Her finishes usually improve the conversation.


Funny thing is that she was upset about the thing I said before I said the thing I thought I was in trouble for.  I merely followed up the worst stupid thing with a less stupid thing.  This is not unusual for me, either, a whole string of stupid things.


"Oh, that?" she said, nonplussed.   "I don't care about that.  I'm going to keep doing that."


This is why it's important for me to talk to people.  I have no idea what's going on with other people.  They baffle me.  I have no idea what's going on in the world.  It baffles me.

Homer and Seinfeld

Baffle:  To frustrate or balk by puzzling or bewildering; confound.


An important thing to remember about The Promises is that they fall into the solution category when we're discussing recovery.  God knows I love the problem category more.  If I could dwell in the problem for the rest of my life I would be in my element.  If I could earn a living creating problems or making problems worse I would be a very, very wealthy man.  The Program, however, keeps forcing me into the solution business.  As a general rule, this is not where I want to go, preferring an endless review of my problems and how bad they are and why they're getting worse and speculating on why they're never going to end.


The formative part of my early sobriety was spent in a city where the bulk of the meetings were based directly on The 12 Steps & 12 Traditions.  A service position lasted 12 weeks; each week was dedicated to a particular Step, taken one by one and in sequence.  We did not skip any Steps but we did not dwell on any of them, either.  Deliberately, carefully, we marched through The Steps one by one.  When we were done with a circuit, we started over.  There were very few discussion meetings which can so easily begin to concentrate on the problem.


This was very annoying for me.  I had many problems that were mesmerizing me.  I couldn't see past these problems.  I never considered that there could be solutions to them and I didn't want to do any work to solve them.  I wanted to wallow in them.  Wallow, wallow, wallow.


Wallow:  To roll about or flounder as in mud, dust, water, slime, etc.; as, pigs wallow in filth.


The Step technique forced me to figure out how to apply the solution to whatever problem I was currently bitching about.  Sometimes I couldn't figure out how to relate the current problem to whatever Step we were on so I was forced to work on the solution only.  Sometimes I could really stretch my story problem to fit into the solution, sort of, like when you take a big sledgehammer and you pound the holy #!&!! out of that little square peg until it fits in the #!&!! round hole.  And sometimes, sometimes, rarely, I glimpsed how the solution might somehow solve the problem.  


What I saw in The Program was a group of Problem People who were more often than not making the right decision when confronted with a decision that needed to be made, even when the decision seemed counter-intuitive.  When I concentrate on the problem it grows bigger.  When I concentrate on the solution, the problem loses its strength.


I bring up again the famous Seinfeld episode where the loser character George starts to do the exact opposite of whatever his instinct is telling him to do, and is amazed when his life begins to really click.  He turns down sex, abuses job interviewers, etc, and the results are fantastic.  That was me when I was getting sober.  If I felt like I should do something I didn't do it.  If I felt like I shouldn't do something, I got busy and did it.  My intuition was almost invariably completely wrong at that point.


I also like the famous Simpson's episode where Homer is in a canoe floating down a river, pondering which side of a fork he should choose.  On the right the sun is shining, there's a rainbow and birds are chirping away in flower filled fields; on the left it's raining, the rapids are roaring, skeletons hang from skeletal trees.


"Hmm," Homer says brightly.  "I wonder which way I should go?"


Today I get up and enter the door filled hallway.  Some of the doors are wide open and some are tightly shut.  Some of the closed doors are made of thick iron and are fastened with many heavy locks and chains.  Goddam, but I want to go through those locked doors.  I figure there must be something really, really cool behind them.   

Those Damn Slogans

More one day at a time.  How brilliant is that concept?  The whole essence of a good life well-lived boiled down to trying to BE where you are AT!


The big question to fire out in the Horseface household right now is: "What can you do about it RIGHT NOW."  If the answer is "nothing" then the follow-up comment is: "Then it's NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!  Get on with your life.  Go do something else."


Eat breakfast.  Go to work.  Pick up the kids.  Quit wasting time trying to do what can't be done.  Pay attention to what you're doing .  I was the guy who would miss two highway exits -- not one, two -- because I was furiously accomplishing something in my mind which was none of my business.  I missed half of my life because I was out in the future trying to solve problems which weren't in my power to solve.


Now sometimes there's something that needs to be done.  Then it's important to do it.  We can't let fear freeze us in our tracks when we need to take some action.  But my experience is that I get into most of my trouble messing around in things I shouldn't be messing around in.

Intuition 101

Prosperity:  Prosperous condition; good fortune; wealth; success.


More problems of prosperity.  More demonstration of the power of prayer and meditation.  I still don't understand how prayer and meditation works.  Life gets simpler and simpler and makes more and more sense if I work away it.  That's all I know.  It seems like such a waste of time when I'm fumbling around with my technique and practice but life just gets better and better.  My decision making gets better and this from a guy who was LEGENDARY at making the wrong decisions.


There is a Promise that says: "We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us."  In my case that was all situations.  They all baffled me and I handled exactly none of them well. The expression on my face in old photographs was the definition of perplexed.  "That guy has no idea what's going on," people must have thought.


Today my intuition has two arenas in which to joust.  One is the Quit Trying To Walk Through Closed Doors arena.  This has been a good area to improve my intuition.  It has greatly reduced the number of face wounds I used to sustain, leading with my face as I tried to walk through doors that were clearly closed.  I still try to go through a lot of those doors but now at least I walk with an outstretched hand.  I still mess up my face but I know it's coming.


Then there is the Get Moving When The Doors Are CLEARLY Open arena.  There are always things going on that I'm getting the green light to do but I'm frankly afraid to move forward sometimes.  It's easier to stay rooted in one spot, warm and familiar.  If I move forward there is the chance that I may fail or that I may end up someplace that, while it may be the place I need to be, I don't like because it reduces my pile of money, power, and sex.


Go!  Go!  Go!! No, wait, Stop!  Stop!  Stop!!

More Sports

Back to the football analogy. Why?  Because it amuses me and because the imagery is so warlike and vivid. It's full of conflict and obstacles that need to be overcome, much like life.


Analogy:  an explaining of something by comparing it point by point with something else.


Anyway, SuperK and I are renting a place to live and the end of our lease is coming up.  We'd like to spend less money so we've started an apartment search.  Its not going very well.  The places we like we can't afford and the places we can afford we don't like.  It's on the frustrating side.  (Ed. note: we've only looked at two places, actually.  From my description it sounds like we've looked at hundreds.  I'm moving into the future and pre-scuttling things).


We're like a football team playing offense.  We're a running team, mostly, with an ordinary but spirited defense and an excellent kicking game.  It's not that exciting to watch but we usually get the job done in a plodding, deliberate manner.  We're trying to execute our solid game plan which is based on a lot of conservative runs off tackle.  But . . . it's not going very well.  The defense knows we can't throw the ball so they're "stuffing the box" as Al DeRogatis would say.  I will point out that a few months ago we burned the defense for 3 very long touchdown passes, but that was the exception rather than the rule.


We want to stick to our game plan, exploit our strengths, our beefy, physical running backs but we're not generating much offense.


Now we're huddled on the sideline pondering options.  We're not panicking; we're not flinging ill-advised 50 yard passes into double coverage but it's obvious that we need to tweak the play calling a little.  The short runs aren't working.  They may work later but they're not working right now.  We're thinking about some end runs or short screen passes; anything to get the defense all discombobulated.  


Probing, probing, probing.  Looking for a crack, a hole, an opening, anything.  Trying to remain patient but realizing that we need to keep our minds open to new things.


Ooo.  We sent the fullback off tackle again, and he got leveled again.

I Promise to Take a Vow

Promise:  Vow.
Vow:  To make a solemn resolution to do, get, etc.


I confess this morning to being a little disappointed in the definition of promise.  I was hoping it would be more along the lines of: "You WILL get this."  Something a little punchier and more forceful.  I guess I could have made something up.  It's not like I've ever told a lie or anything or that anyone is checking my definition with Mr. Webster.


Anyway, I've been dispensing to a captive Herr Luber little bits and pieces of the wisdom that I've gained by a diligent and assiduous application of the Steps.  He's polite so he listens, sometimes, or he says he does, at least.  I feel a little like a storefront preacher: cheap suit, sweaty brow, thumping on a well-worn black book, or a blue one, maybe.  It is amazing how simple the whole Program sounds when I try to dispense it in little bite sized nuggets.  I keep thinking: "Well, this is bullshit.  The guy has some complicated problems that he's trying to solve and all I can come up with is this crap?"  


I believe I will always think that a complicated problem requires a complicated solution.  This is why The Program keeps steering me back to all of those irritating 3 or 4 word slogans.  A spiritual life -- Program, religion, philosophy, wherever you can find it -- is not a complicated thing.  There's not a lot to it.


I have been doing some musing on The Promises.  I will never forget my initial stupefaction when I heard them.  I couldn't believe it.  Talk about bullshit.  Talk about vague bullshit.  Talk about a bunch of stuff that I was definitely not aspiring to.  Peace of mind as a goal, or a supermodel in a Porsche with a million dollars.  Not a difficult decision for me at the beginning.  (Ed. Note: I'd have to think about it today, too).


"This is what you people have?" I thought.  Actually, I probably said it to someone.  I hadn't yet developed the ability to stop a thought from exiting my mouth.


Today I read those Promises and I'm amazed at how profound they are and at how they have come true, each and every one of them.

Alone Again, Naturally

Isolate:  To set apart from others; place alone.


Alcoholics are pretty surprised when we find out that The Rooms are full of people who think like we do.  I always suspected that I was insane, which I found pretty discouraging.  It wasn't like insanity was something that I aspired to.  And it's not like The Program refuted this suspicion; it simply showed me that I had a pretty common form of insanity and that there were places where I could hang out with other insane people.


For instance, I frequently held arguments in my head with people who weren't actually there.  The arguments started out politely enough but started to get heated, eventually leading to violent physical confrontations.  I usually won the fights despite the fact that I've never won a fight in my life.  I argued brilliantly, leaving my tormentor tongue-tied.  I thought I was the only person in the world who did this.


"Oh, yeah," a friend said.  "I do that all the time."
"Whew," I thought.


Recovery means an end to that awful isolation that plagues most of us.  We never felt like we belonged anywhere despite our ceaseless efforts to fit in.  We would assume the appropriate persona that would help us fit in wherever we happened to be.  We felt alone when we were alone and we felt alone when we were in a throng.  It was an awful kind of isolation.


Awful.

Aspire to the Halfback

Direction:  The line in which or the point toward which a moving person goes.
Outcome:   Result; consequence; aftermath.


How about an early morning football analogy?  Sorry, ladies and wimpy horseface types.


When a football team playing offense decides to run the ball the two most common choices are to give the ball to the halfback or tailback, which for some reason are two different names given to a player who does the same thing, or to the fullback, who only gets one name.  I have no idea how these names came about.  One of the guys who plays offense is called a tackle, which is what a defensive player tries to do with an offensive player who has the ball.  This would seem to be a better name for a defensive player or at least someone who plays defense.  Go figure.  


If I owned a football team, which I do not, I would get to work immediately on the names of each position player.  I think this is more important than whether you win or lose.  This attitude is one of the reasons why I shouldn't own a football team.   That and the money.


I digress.  The fullback is typically a big burly fellow who just charges into the defense and tries to run over people.  You could say he's the least subtle of the backs.  He doesn't try to avoid anyone.  He tries to knock them down.  He says: "Here I come -- try to stop me."  He usually doesn't get too far.  Fullbacks are big and slow and not too bright.  One would think a better approach would be to avoid the large, violent defensive players who are trying to knock you down.  The fullback sees where he wants to go and tries to go there.  He doesn't pay attention to obstacles like Jack Lambert.


That's me.  I'm a fullback.


Then you have the halfback.  He's the smaller, smarter back.  He tries to go where there are no obstacles.  He's learned the obstacles are usually bigger than he is and they mean to do him grievous bodily harm.  On some of the running plays where the halfback has the ball he gets behind his teammates from the offensive line and tries to let them deal with the huge violent defensive players; this is smart because a lot of his teammates are as big as the players on defense.  He figures: "What the hell.  Let those guys get knocked down instead of me."


The running plays involving the tailback often develop more slowly.  You can see the tailback looking for holes, which are areas with no obstacles.  Sometimes he can't find one and he gets knocked down but that's OK.  You can't always find a hole.  But sometimes if he's patient he lets the offensive linemen knock down enough defensive players so that a hole opens up. The hole isn't always there when he starts running and sometimes a hole disappears as quickly as it  appears but that's OK, too.  Holes come and holes go.  


The idea is that his patience is often rewarded.  The big offensive guys knock down enough of the defensive guys that he can run for a little while.  He almost always gets knocked down eventually but he's a little further down the road than when he started.


That's me, sometimes.  Not often, but sometimes.  I'm still not smart but I'm getting smarter.  That's all I can ask for.

Experience

Experience:  An actual living through an event or events; personally undergoing or observing something or things in general as they occur.


Herr Luber's visit reminded me of another great truth of life; namely, that our experiences are going to find a kindred soul sooner or later.  The Program definition is a bit harsh on this matter, stating that: "No matter how far down the scale we have gone we can see how our experiences can benefit another."  This is only fitting considering the harshness of addiction.  Nonetheless, the wisdom gained from an experience that's then shared with another is one of the greatest gifts we can pass on in our attempt to be of service.


To clarify a bit: I'm not suggesting that Herr Luber was in such dire straits that he needed the counsel of a Horse-faced guy who had gone way, way down the scale of human misery, but it was getting close to that point.


My friend is trying to find a place to settle down and call home after many years of frequent transfers.  We call it finding a Headquarters.  The guy has me beat to hell when it comes to moving all over the world but I'm living in my 7th city so I'm not a novice at finding a new home.  I hope that I was able to provide some wisdom.  If I was it surely wasn't innate wisdom -- it was the result of a hard experience.


I remember arriving at a hotel near the airport just 10 months ago, all of my possessions in a truck somewhere in the middle of the country.  We didn't know it yet but the apartment we had reserved was not going to work out, so we didn't have a place to live.  I was exhausted beyond belief.  It was raining cats and dogs and it was the middle of the night, 3AM body time.  SuperK and I had hand-carried all of our valuable papers and jewelry with us on the plane; it was disheartening to see my life summed up in these few bags and packages.  I was . . . ahem . . . not feeling very chipper.  We kept looking at each other with terrified  looks on our faces.  


"Who's idea was this again?" someone asked.
"What the hell are we doing here, exactly?" someone else asked.


It went like this for a while.  Over the next week we had a few arguments over ridiculous, ridiculous things.  We weren't arguing over who had misplaced the passports or where the last Clark bar was -- we were simply overwhelmed.


It all worked out.  It wasn't especially easy and it wasn't especially smooth but it all worked out.   And I was pretty mentally tough son of a bitch before the move.  I'm a tad tougher today.


 That's the message.  It's all going to work out.

Hold On Loosely

Insecurity:  Feeling more anxiety than seems warranted.


More musings on money . . . 


There's never enough money.  There's not enough money in the whole world.  When I get cranking on the topic of money I invariably find that I've been horribly screwed.  Someone else has my money or someone is trying to get whatever's left if they don't already have it.  The government gets too much and I'm not paid enough and everything is too expensive.


The Promise says this: "Fear of financial insecurity will leave us."  I may be paraphrasing that but you get the gist.  I don't feel like leaning over and picking up my Big Book, which is 18 inches away from me at this moment.  I'm afraid it might burn me like holy water burns the devil.


I have to concentrate on the "fear" part of that phrase.  That's the working part of the promise.  It definitely does not say "financial insecurity" will leave us; it says "fear" will leave us.  (Ed note:  SuperK got out her book and the phrase is actually "economic insecurity."  That doesn't sound right to me.  That doesn't sound right at all.  Maybe I need to read my Big Book more often.)  The point is that if I'm not right with my Higher Power then I can get worked up about anything.  I can be sitting on a big pile of swag and still freak out about not having enough money.  I could win the lottery and I'd bitch about the taxes.


I went to a fancy college-prep high school.  I was on a scholarship.  I think they wanted some kids from . . . well, not the wrong side of the tracks but closer to the wrong side than to the bucolic setting of this school, where tracks were forbidden by law.  There were students who didn't get cars on their 16th birthday, or even new cars; they got fancy new sports cars.  And the funny thing is these people were as worried and upset about money as the folks in my solidly middle class neighborhood were.


I know this to be true: the more I try to hold on to what I have the more power it has over me.  If I loosen my grip I relax a little.  I crushed the shit out of a lot of stuff.  All of us have to look at our own circumstances, of course.  The point is that when I'm selfish with my money or my time or my possessions, then I enjoy them less and less.  I learned that if you're not at peace with what you have then you'll never have enough.


I would like to try to manage some lottery winnings, though.  Definitely would give it a shot.

The Proper Use of The Will, or Anything Else For That Matter

Willpower:  Strength of will, mind, or determination; self-control.


Trying to control the outcome of anything bigger than "what's to nosh on?" is a fool's errand.  I'm trying to think of a bigger fool's errand but not much is coming to mind.  Maybe trying to get SuperK to do what I want.  That's not a fool's errand -- that's THE fool's errand.  Controlling outcomes is like predicting the future.  Good luck with that, Nostradamus.


That doesn't mean I can't point the bow of my spaceship toward a desired outcome.  Nothing wrong with that.  The Book tells me that there is a proper use of the will and then there's everything else.  The Book doesn't suggest that the will is going to go away.  It tells me to attempt to align it with the plan of my own personal Higher Power, in whatever guise and raiment he or she or it takes.  It tells me that all sound achievement starts with a plan and a vision of how things will look if the plan pans out.  The trick is making sure that I don't insist on that outcome.  That's an improper use of the will.  That's the opposite of powerlessness.  That's arrogance.


The thing is that most of us are very talented people and we are used to getting what we set out to get.  Nothing wrong with that, either.  I think we're expected to use the talents that we're so abundantly given.  Persistence is often rewarded.  To accomplish something I need to set my sights high.  I'm not expected to squash my will.  I'm expected to chain it to the fortunes of my Higher Power.


Like I could squash a thing as beautiful as the will of Horseface Steve.  Umm, Ummm, Um.

Chop Wood. Carry Water.

Here's the main thing that The Program has encouraged me to do: live my life, or attempt to live my life, on a spiritual basis.  And I say this believing that our beloved Program is no better or no worse than any other spiritual program in providing its adherents with a good foundation for life.   The drill is pretty much the same: Find god -- Serve others.  I think it's possible to condense spirituality into that essence.  The methods may vary somewhat but the goal is the same.  Our Program is geared toward the drunk and the drug addict, but spirituality is spirituality.


"What do you do to reach enlightenment?"
"Chop wood, carry water," said the master.
"And after you reach enlightenment?  What then?"
"Chop wood, carry water," said the master.


When I talk about the benefits that have accrued from trying to live a spiritual life I realize what a vocabulary we have, what a mindset, what a common goal.  I may be at a different point in my pursuit than you are, but we're traveling the same road.  I can give advice on where I've been and how I've gotten to where I am, and I can visualize how it might be once I get further on down the road, but the goal is the same.  Our experiences vary but we all use the same tools from the same toolkit.   It's like being in the same Spanish class -- some of us are more fluent but we're all trying to speak Spanish.


I confess to being amazed that folks without this kind of foundation can make it through life without totally losing their grip on sanity.   Life can be hard.  It can be confusing and contradictory and just #$@!! frustrating.  I want to control everything and predict the outcome.  I want to be in charge of everything.  I want to get my way.


What a blessing The Program can be.  I wish I could have received this blessing without being brutalized to within an inch of my life.  Who knows -- maybe that makes it sweeter.

Wise and Calm, or Calm and Wise, I'm Not Sure Which

Calm:  Undisturbed; unruffled; tranquil; still.
Wise:   Having or showing good judgment; sagacious; prudent; discreet.


The other day someone described my behavior as "wise and calm."  This was someone who obviously has no idea what the hell's going on.  This has been happening more frequently as I get older.  It did not happen when I was drinking, I can assure you of that.  Phrases like "nightmare" and "train wreck" and "asshole"  come to mind.  I recall "big asshole" being bandied about on more than one instance.


Wise I can see, maybe, on a good day.  When someone says "wise" I assume that they really mean "old."  I think it's hard not to get a bit wiser as you age.  Maybe wise means "not stupid."  If you quit sticking your hand into a running fan after losing several fingers in earlier hand-running fan encounters it hardly seems appropriate to call this wisdom.  My cat could figure that one out.  She's a pretty smart cat but she's still a cat.


Calm is more problematic.  I wouldn't call myself calm.  Calmer, sure, but not calm.  Maybe when I appear calm folks are actually seeing me when I'm tired.  Calm and exhausted look the same sometimes.  I'm better at appearing calm.  I found that when I wasn't calm and not trying to appear calm that I alarmed people.  I try not to do that anymore, with varying degrees of success.


Calm is a parked car.  Appearing calm is a parked car, with the engine turned on, and a foot on the accelerator, pushing it to the floor.  The car isn't moving but it shaking and making a hell of a lot of noise.  That's how I feel.  What you see on the outside is not what is going on underneath.  It's the old duck analogy -- smoothly floating on top of the water, little webbed feet churning away just under the surface.


Strangely enough, it works some of the time.  If I pretend that I'm calm, then I feel calm.


Calmer, not calm.


-er:  Added to many adjectives and adverbs to form the comparative degree, as later, greater.

The Small, Still Voice

Herr Luber and I have been discussing some ongoing uncertainties in our lives and pondering how meditation and prayer can be part of the solution.  The Program has definitely put me in the Solution Business.  I know, I know, you're thinking: "Horseface?  In the solution business?!"  I will admit to having a long and storied love affair with the Problem Business.  I do love wallowing around in The Problem.  It's so warm and comforting and familiar there.  I'm proficient at problems; it's the solutions that elude me.


Meditation seems as if it's going to be such a waste of time before I get started with it.  I'm a guy and meditation isn't our thing, generally thinking.   I fix things following time-honored techniques, using my massive will and impressive intellect.  Sitting quietly and listening to my Inner Voice doesn't seem as productive as taking a jackhammer to something.  And then, to complicate matters, I don't feel like I've accomplished anything when I'm done meditating.  With the jackhammer, I can gaze approvingly at the remains of the wall.  I get up when I'm done meditating and I'm all: "OK, well, whatever."  It doesn't feel like anything has changed.  I put down the jackhammer and I'm like: "Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about."


The thing about my recovery is that I don't do anything until I see that it's going to be intensely practical.  I just won't make the effort unless I see some results; concrete results in my daily life.  It's the same thing with The Program: although I still don't really understand how it works I run into a lot of relatively happy people.  I'm curious, then, as to what they did to get relatively happy.  I'm not doing anything they suggest if they stay pissed and depressed.  It's the happy that I like.


The meditation helps me be quiet so I can hear some direction.  The direction isn't delivered with the subtlety of a football coach yelling at me through an amplified bullhorn.  Instead, I sense a slight shift in the direction of the breeze.  I get a sense that I should stop moving forward or maybe pick up my feet and get moving.  It becomes intuitive.


What's the opposite?  Jackhammer-itive?

Terminally Unique

Different:  Not alike; dissimilar; unlike most others; unusual.


When I was drinking my life was dominated by the feeling that I didn't fit in.  I didn't fit in anywhere.    It was profoundly uncomfortable to feel that way.  It was as if I was standing on the outside of a closed circle, peering over the heads of everyone else, trying to see what was going on in the center.  I felt excluded, different than anyone else.


Part of these feelings I can attribute to my disease of alcoholism; part I can attribute to normal teenage angst that I never bothered to outgrow.  It was very convenient to imagine that I was one of The Others.  I thought that no one else understood me.  I was terminally unique, and I decided that I was going to stand in the dark and resent the hell out of everyone who didn't  love me.  I was going to will them to see what an amazing, special specimen that I was.  Or I was going to die and let them suffer horribly at my funeral, full of regret that they didn't treat me better when I was around.


Brother.  No wonder I irritated everyone.  I was irritating.


One of the greatest blessings of my recovery is that I have finally grown into my own skin.  I know who I am, more or less, and I'm comfortable with that.  I still people-please too much but it's not my sole vocation anymore.  I don't try to pretend that I'm not who I am or that I like what I don't like.  It's OK.  


People ask SuperK what I'm like at home.  "Like this," she says.  "This is what he's like at home."  I feel good about that, even though she's probably lying.  I'm consistent.  I feel a little different still but I like that.


Does any one know what I'm talking about?

I've Got Nothing New

Some oldies but goodies . . . .


I don't know what's best for me most of the time.  The things that I'm sure I HAVE to have frequently blow up in my face when I get them.  This is why I don't ask for specific things any more, unless I really, really HAVE TO HAVE them.  Then I go for it when I pray, unspooling hours and hours of instructions.  If I'm really motivated god does exactly what I want god to do.  And the flip side of the coin is that when the events transpire that I believe are a TOTAL DISASTER they often turn out to be wonderful blessings in disguise.


I cringe a little when I hear phrases like "Pain is the touchstone to all spiritual growth."  There's a little too much pop psychology there for my comfort and I'm not sure what a touchstone is, exactly, but I can work around my reservations because it's so frequently true.  I grow when I'm challenged.  I don't do the hard work unless I'm uncomfortable.


Touchstone:  Any test or criterion for determining genuineness or value; a type of black stone formerly used to test the purity of gold or silver by the streak left on it when it was rubbed with the metal.


I had a long talk with Herr Luber yesterday about the stress of Change and The Unknown.  Stress can be very stressful.  But enduring the stress, developing the patience and quiet and presence to shoulder on through almost always leaves me in a better place.  Now, I'm not suggesting that stress is my favorite thing in the world, but I don't run from it like it's the plague any more, either.  I come out in a better place, tougher and meaner and more resilient.  


My getting fired is an apt example.  When people express their sympathy or outrage I'm all: "Eh.  I've been fired before.  I'm a drunk.  I know how to get fired and live to fight another day."  I got the best job I ever had after getting fired.  The dross was burned off and I was in a better place.


I flash back to my first trip to a jungle in Ecuador.  It involved a plane landing at a god-forsaken air strip hacked out of the brush; a 3 hour, bone-rattling ride in an open-air jeep over what passed for a semblance of a road, interrupted once by a long interrogation with teen-aged soldiers carrying Uzis; and concluding with a 2 hour motorized canoe trip up a winding tributary of the Amazon, vines and other serrated vegetation lashing my face the whole time.  


Ending up being one of my best vacation experiences.  Not easy -- memorable

Planes, Pools, and Coffee Machines

Actions:  Behavior; habitual conduct.  (You want to hear a synonym for actions?  Battle.  How cool is that?).


The Program teaches me that I need to pay attention to my actions.  It's amazing I need to be told that how I behave is important.  I thought that what was important was how I intended to behave.  Actions are for the unsophisticated.  Thinking is where it's at.  I read and re-read the part of The Book that suggests the world judges us on our actions, not our intentions.


"Really?" I said, genuinely surprised.  "Really?!"


When I got on an airplane a couple of hours after being discharged I found myself in front of some guy who didn't have an inside voice.  He wasn't in the row behind me, either; he was a few rows back.  I'm not even sure he was on the same plane.  He may have been inside the terminal at an airport in the next state.  Why is that the people who don't have an inside voice are never very interesting?


"Higher Power," I prayed.  "Please crash this plane so I don't have to listen to that guy any more."


I believe I've mentioned that prayer is not my strong suit.  I don't know what my strong suit is anymore.  I don't think I even have a suit.  I think I gave all of my suits to Goodwill.


Anyway, the following day I went with SuperK over to our exercise club to swim.  We popped into the hot tub for a minute to warm up before getting into the pool, which was crowded that morning.  Things are always crowded when I'm not in a good mood.  God thinks this is funny, to teach me patience by putting me in long lines.  I would prefer being struck patient.  That would be easier on me.


A woman came into the pool area and put a bottle of water on the floor in front of one of the swimming lanes, then joined us in the hot tub.  After a minute I got out and went over to the lane that she apparently wanted to reserve, even though you can't do that.  This isn't Hertz -- this is the pool.  We don't take reservations for pool lanes.  You can't say a pool lane for later.  You can get in the pool or you can stay out of the pool -- those are the two choices.  I pointed down at her bottle as if to say: "Do you want me to throw this in the garbage can or should I bounce it off your forehead?"


"I was getting ready to swim," she said.
"Like right now?" I asked, standing in front of the pool lane she wasn't standing in front of, being in the hot tub and all.
"In like 30 seconds," she replied.


I was trying to keep my temper chained up in the fiery pit that it calls home, but it was straining to get out.


"Were you waiting?" she said, stupidly.
I sighed.  "It's not that important."  I thought she would see that she was IN THE WRONG and let me swim first, which she DID NOT DO.  I sat along the full pool for 5 minutes until another lane opened up, stewing and boiling and judging.


Five minutes.  Can you believe that?  Five minutes.  I should have drowned her.


Today I went into Starbucks for a cup of coffee.  After the very nice young woman rang up my overpriced drink I remembered that I need a pound of coffee for home.  If you buy a pound of coffee then you get a free overpriced drink.


"Go ahead and pick out the coffee you want and then I'll ring it up," she said.  
"Why don't you go over there and pick it out yourself?" I wanted to say.  "I just told you what I wanted.  I'm the fucking customer and you're the fucking employee.  Don't make me paw through your stuff looking for something I want to buy."


Vaguely, I sensed that I was overreacting, so I went over and got the coffee myself.  When I returned to the counter I asked her to credit me for the overpriced drink that I had already paid for so that I could get a free overpriced drink with my pound of coffee, but someone else had gotten in line in front of me, so I had to wait.  It has been a bad week for me as far as queuing up is concerned.  I'm glad I didn't end up in the emergency room.


"Oh," she said, which worried me.  "That promotion only applies to this type of overpriced drink, not the kind of overpriced drink that you already paid for."  I have buying coffee beans from this chain for 15 years, always getting the kind of overpriced drink that I had already purchased, only for free.


This type of dialogue went on for a bit longer and none of it was to my credit.  I did not, however, buy the fucking coffee beans without getting a free overpriced coffee drink.


"So you don't want the beans? "she asked.


I thought of my sponsor saying: "Try not to talk, Horseface.  Just try not to talk.  It's only going to make things worse."


See how it is with actions?  I pay attention to them today.  While getting discharged and traveling and seeing my family didn't upset me too much, obviously it upset me more than I was willing to admit.  I could tell because my actions were exaggerated and inappropriate.  

And I Deserved It!!

Deserved:  Well earned; merited.


The thing is that I deserved to get fired.  I was no longer very productive at my job and I hadn't been in quite a while.  I didn't enjoy what I was doing or the people I worked with or the philosophy of the company or even their motto, which was: "Why?  Because We Don't Like You."  Any two of those factors put together would be a good reason to move on, or to be moved on by force.  


When I started working on inventories and tried to take a semi-honest look at the reasons behind my dismissal from various jobs, both drunk and in sobriety, I kept coming across a central theme.  Me.  The central theme in all of the various, wide-ranging scenarios, was me, Horseface Steve.  I spent so much time trying to blame other people for my difficulties or discomfort that I never got around to the Horseface Steve part which is, of course, the most important part.  I found that I almost always deserved to lose the jobs that I lost.  Moreover, I found that people I worked for were generally good and decent, and that usually I should have been moved on way, way before it actually happened.


Still, it's not the best feeling in the world to get fired.  (I do like that the phrase "to be fired" is a colloquial take on the original term "to discharge."  Apparently, people used to get "discharged" from jobs and we dumbed it down to a weaponry analogy).  The actual firing was kind of like knowing that someone small was going to punch me in the gut very gently, and here it comes!  It wasn't the stunning blind-side sucker punch that used to stun me when I was drunk and stupid, but that didn't make it pleasant.


Next adventure, please.

Fired!

Fire:  (Pun on discharge), (Colloq.), to dismiss from a position; discharge.


I got fired today.


That statement should stand on its own merits but there you go.


"I'm on a plane trying to get home for the weekend so I'll get to the point.  We've decided to go another direction with our representation in your corner of the world.  Don't take this personally -- we appreciate your efforts over the years -- but we've decided to make a change," said the faceless bureaucrat who apparently is tasked with making these decisions.  I really don't know -- I've never met him.  I think he's my boss's boss's boss.  What would that make him?  My great-grand boss?


"How am I supposed to take it?" I asked.  "Impersonally?  Mechanically?  Spiritually?  By transferring it to another person?"  I didn't really see how I was supposed to take it if not personally.  It was an extremely personal thing.  I could tell that this guy did stuff like this all the time.  I don't think he had trouble falling asleep that night, either.  He did it on the phone and it didn't take 45 seconds.  He was controlled and unemotional and careful to keep everything very legal.  


This was always a classy, classy organization.  45 seconds on the phone with a guy I've never met on a Friday afternoon after 15 years of labor.  I've worked for this organization, in one form or another, since 1997.  I'm not that good with dates but I believe we are closing in on 2012.  I would have hoped for 75 seconds at least.  Not more than that, of course.  That would be piggish and self-centered.


"I'm wondering why you didn't let me know that you were unhappy with my work.  If you had discussed this with me maybe I could have made some changes," I suggested.  He didn't say anything.  This was OK because I knew exactly why they weren't happy with my efforts, which were intermittent and pathetic and quite half-hearted.  But I figured if I was going to get fired I was going to make the guy squirm a little, the piece of shit.


"Hey, here's something funny," I said.  "I moved 2500 miles away last year and you guys never figured it out.   You're really on the ball.  You're really right on top of things.  That's a hell of an organization you work for."


If you would have told me at the start of the year that I would have lasted this long I would have laughed in your face.  And SuperK told me more than once that this was my last trip back to The Old City to work.  Regrettably, that didn't stop her from freaking out a little bit, apparently fouling up a pretty good nap.


Be careful what you pray for because you might get it.


Here's the thing: What I was doing wasn't right.  It wasn't awful but it wasn't right.  I had decided that because I wasn't treated very well by this organization in some crucial past dealings that I had earned the right to behave poorly in return.  Here's a quote: "To escape looking at the wrongs we have done another, we resentfully focus on the wrong he has done us.


And I didn't say any of those things.  I made everything up except for what he said to me.


I tell my buddies all the time: "Do me a favor -- try not to talk to today.  Try not to say anything.  Your day will go much better."  


Yeah, tell me about it.