Meditate, Positively

"He is told that the chair and the floor are holding him up and that there is no need for him to make any effort whatsoever.  He need not even keep perfectly quiet if it is difficult for him to do so.  If other ideas that those he is being given enter his mind, he is warned not to try to resist them but to let them come into his field of thought and then quietly pass out again."

"The negative thoughts must be stopped, but the subject must not be repressed or even dropped from consciousness until it has been pursued to its logical conclusion with as many positive thoughts as possible.

Negative thoughts given the chance, arise all too swiftly.  For emphasis I repeat: it is of supreme importance that positive thinking be employed whenever the subject comes up . . . . "

"If other ideas than those he is being given enter his mind, he is warned not to try to resist them but to let them come into his field of thought and then quietly pass out of it again."

Lots of good stuff here on meditation and psychological tricks and techniques so that your thinking won't be so . . . well . . . fucked up.  These passages are not from our founders and they are not from any religious or spiritual organization.  Just goes to show you that there is a lot of good stuff out there.  We have some of the answers for some of the people but that's about it.

Thanks for the Call Yesterday

The telephone!  I can't tell you how important the telephone was for me when I was getting sober.  In fact, for most of my sobriety it has been very important.  Like most alcoholics I lived an isolated life emotionally, keeping things inside, thinking about them and thinking and thinking and thinking.  So it really helped to be able to talk to someone every day.  And not just at meetings, as important as they are to me, but with one person for a more extended period of time.  It's harder to bullshit someone when you talk one-on-one for 15 minutes or so.  I can do it, no doubt, but it's harder.  I have also learned not to put too much significance on every call.  I don't have to have some big issue to discuss when I picked up the phone.  Often I'll shoot the shit with someone for a bit and he'll ask: "So everything going OK?" and if it was, we'd ring off.  The point was that when I needed to talk to someone I had that muscle memory of picking up the phone.

This is not the case so much any more.  People don't generally use the phone to . . . you know . . . talk to people, preferring texting where one can hide behind bland, vague words decorated with clever little emojis.  Oh, well, so be it.  We all get older, right?  I don't ever want to be one of those old guys who is constantly telling everyone how much better it was in the day.  "When I was getting sober we didn't have coffee - we just took a mouthful of Sanka crystals and we chewed on those, and we liked it, goddammit."  That kind of stuff.

A few years ago a colleague asked me to be his sponsor and then promptly, with alacrity, never called me, not once, not ever.  I rang him up a couple of times - to grease the lines of communication - but he didn't ring me back, not once, not ever.  As an ex-salesman who did not receive return phone calls like 47 million times this is one of the things I DO NOT tolerate in The Program.  I'm not mad about it - I get it why millions of people wouldn't want to talk to me - but I don't put up with it.  I delete the contact from my phone and I move on, with absolutely no feelings of ill will.  If you don't want to talk to me on the phone I absolutely respect that.

I received a surprising call from him a few weeks ago.  When we spoke I could tell he had a lot of things going on that were upsetting - a rapidly accelerating engagement, health issues, and the like.  So I decided that - since he really seemed to need to talk - that I'd pick up the phone and try to reignite the relationship.  I called and he didn't call back.  D'oh!  I felt a little like Charlie Brown whiffing on the football kick.

The next day he walked past me on the way into the meeting.

"Thanks for the call yesterday," he said, cheerily.

I kept a straight face.  He is under the impression that a phone call is one-sided.  He's 70.  He's not going to change.

Then, today, at the meeting, he raised his hand during a business-related conversation about updating our phone list.

"I just wanted to say that if you call me and don't leave your name, then I'm not calling back," he proclaimed.  

I almost laughed out loud.  I almost pointed out that he isn't going to call you back if you leave your name, either, but I'm firmly against cross talk.

Delete.

Peabody

"Halfway measures are of no avail."

"There is no wand to wave over his head wafting away by magic his undesirable habits."

"But the minute a man seeks to reform for somebody else, no matter how deeply he may care for the other person, he is headed for failure in the long run."

"It would seem as if destitution would act as a powerful deterrent to alcoholism, but, as is well known, the reverse is only too often the case when unstable personalities are involved.  However, the rich and poor alike cannot await the ideal moment for taking up treatment, since it would doubtless never come.  Many of the reasons why the present is unbearable for the alcoholic are derived directly from his drinking and will only be intensified by it continuance."  

Jam-Booda

Contentment:  Happiness in one's own situation.

At the beginning of life is birth, during which we suffer, and at the end of our life is death, during which we also suffer.  Between these two come aging and illness.  No matter how wealthy you are or how physically fit you are, you have to suffer through these circumstances.

THIS is not good news for me.  I do not like to suffer.  I do not care where in the arc of my life the suffering occurs.  It is an unwelcome sensation.  I'm still sure that there is a loophole in there somewhere and I mean to find it.

On top of this comes discontentment.  You want more and more and more.  This, in a sense, is real poverty - always to be hungry, hungry, hungry with no time to be satisfied.  Others might not be rich, but contentment provides them with fewer worries, fewer enemies, fewer problems, and very good sleep.

More:  In greater quantity, amount, or proportion.

I need more.  I don't have enough.  What I have might run out and you have more than I have, anyway, which isn't fair.  Once I get enough then I'll be happy.

I Like The Effect

"That alcohol is no real solution to nervous tension is shown when drinking is carried to its extreme limit.  But, whatever the final results may be, the initial effects are so satisfactory that the individual is tempted to seek this method over and over again for want of a better one, with full realization of the eventual suffering that he must endure."  Richard Peabody 1930

 "Men and women drink essentially because they like the effect produced by alcohol. The sensation is so elusive that, while they admit it is injurious, they cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false. To them, their alcoholic life seems the only normal one. They are restless, irritable and discontented, unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by taking a few drink."  Dr. Wm Silkworth in The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous 1934

Don't tell me that our Program didn't get any help from people that came before.  

Don't tell me that the problem is anything but a chase to feel good, to feel better.

I didn't feel good, I didn't feel comfortable in my own skin.  Then I drank and I felt better.

A. B. C.  Easy as one, two, three.  Or simple as Doe Ray Me.

What's the Point?

Sometimes you just get on a roll with people . . . . 

I bought a pair of glasses and a couple of boxes of contacts from the Costco optical department.  (Fair disclosure: I fucking love Costco).  I drove to the store a few days ago to pick up both orders.  I drove down to the store specifically to pick them up.  There was no other reason for me to go to the store.  I did not want to go to the store.  I wanted to do something else.  This was a special trip to get my optical goods.

When I arrived I took a little number from one of those little number dispensing devices (Fair disclosure: I fucking hate those little number dispensing devices, preferring to wade into the crowd, swinging my elbows, and get served first) and saw that there were about ten people in line before me.  So I shopped and bought some crap I didn't really need, checked out, took my purchases to the car, and returned to the optical department where the little device told me that there were still about ten people ahead of me.  So I went home.  Didn't feel like waiting.  No big deal.

Today I made a special trip back down to Costco and found that the situation hadn't changed.  In fact, it looked to me like some of the people who were waiting a few days ago were still there.  I asked one of the optical people if I had to take a little number if I was just picking up an order. 

"Contacts or glasses?"

Both.

"You can get the contacts, but not the glasses because we have to fit them for you."

OK.  How long do you think the wait is?

The kid looked at the line and then back at me.  He appeared to be trying to come up with a figure, a rosy figure, which still would have been a lie.  I know - I'm a liar so I can tell when someone is getting ready to lie.  It would have been a kind, optimistic lie, but a lie nonetheless.

A colleague behind him said: "It's going to be a while."  I wasn't sure why she was butting in but . . . 

OK.  Can I get the contacts then?

As the kid was getting the contacts out I said:  I'll tell you what - can you give me both orders now and I'll come back and get the glasses fitted later, when you aren't so busy?  (Fair disclosure: I don't think I added "when you aren't so busy" but it makes me sound better . . .  in retrospect).

The woman chimes in with: "Sir, there are ten people in line before you."

I'm not trying to cut in line.  I'd just like to pick my order up.  

At this point I didn't know why she was talking to me at all, let alone in this confrontational tone.  I'm really a very low-key person, relaxed in demeanor and friendly, and I wasn't trying to get special treatment.  If I need a little number to pick up my order, fine, tell me that.  If I don't need a little number how about giving me my fucking stuff and I'll get out of your hair? 

She came over and told the kid to give me the order and make a notation on the paperwork that I hadn't gotten them fitted.

I wasn't trying to cut in line.

"Sir, that's not the point.  But you're all taken care of haveaniceday."

I mean what the fuck is going on right now?

Bump and Grind

Grind:  To move with much difficulty or friction.

My first couple of years of sobriety was a grind, more or less.  It was an example of constant, sustained effort.  I don't want to suggest that I was miserable and unhappy - although I was that, indeed, from time to time - or that things weren't improving . . . just that my initial reactions to things weren't positive very often.  I overreacted to minor offenses and episodes and I tossed any sense of gratitude under the bus more often than not.

The arc of sobriety is long but it bends toward justice.  Martin Luther Seaweed

"Habit of thought is more important than will."  

Ah, yes, the fallacy of willpower.  It gets me far but it only gets me so far and it didn't get me far enough with alcohol and drugs.

This and That

My goal in interpersonal relationships is to never say anything about a person that I wouldn't say without that person being right in front of me.  That being said I think that all of us need to blow off steam to our sponsors or a few trusted friends.  I get frustrated with people sometimes, fully aware that the problem centers in myself and not in the other person.  Still, we all need to do some harmless, private ranting and raving from time to time.  It cleans the gunk out of the carburetor.

Happy people make me uncomfortable.  Go be happy elsewhere.  Please don't bubble, gush, or  make joyous proclamations around me.  I'm not in the mood.  Content people I'm OK with.  It's possible to be content and sullen at the same time.  This appeals to my dark interior.

I think you're ready to get sober or you aren't.  We have very little success convincing people that it's time to get sober.  

A.A. is great but it isn't necessarily the answer for everyone.  If you don't like the spiritual angle or the "suggestions" or the group-think, cool, go somewhere else, find some other path.  Seriously.  All we want is for people to get sober, not to get sober using our prescribed methods which - objectively - are flawed.  We don't have a rip-roaring success rate.

The Kerfuffle Meeting

Apparently I'm drawing some weird energy towards my little 12 Step meeting.  It probably doesn't have anything to do to me, actually, even though I'm sure it's all . . . about me.

Last week one of the women members asked to speak to me privately.  She complained mightily about the other guy that attends the meeting, suggesting that he behaved in an inappropriate way towards her.   She told him that she was going to share this with the other men at the meeting as a means of protecting herself.  I'm the only other man who attends regularly so she clearly wasn't being too subtle.

I like this person but I'm a little on the fence about her emotional sobriety.  She's somewhat volatile, mildly confrontational about things.  I speak my mind, too, but try to use some diplomacy when I'm discussing anything edgy or controversial.  I want to helpful and I'm not helpful when I'm combative or insensitive.

I had plans to call this guy - whose story I tend to believe, to be honest about it - but hadn't gotten around to it when I heard from this woman's sponsor that he had texted her asking if her sponsee was trying to get him kicked out of the meeting.  I've known him for a few years and never had one thought of him as a sexist, macho dude.  I would have put him in the Safe Guy category.

So I ring him up.  I spoke carefully for a moment because I don't want to discount anything anyone says, especially when I'm only getting one side of a story that involves two people.  Or I'm hearing about a situation anecdotally from a third party.  I'm not going to toss anyone under any bus

Boy, that did not work out well for me at all.  He was having none of it, none of anything.  He became quite angry.  He interrupted, he disagreed, he confronted.  I did not diffuse the situation when I explained that I was calling to offer my support, to stress that I make my own determinations of people all by myself and not as a result of what someone else says or doesn't say.  No dice.  "There is no side here," he kept saying.  I never did get to point out that when one person says one thing and another person says something else that is the polar opposite that there certainly is a side.

I am rarely at a loss for words.  All of my public speaking, sometimes in oppositional sales situations, has made me pretty and calm and deliberate, even in volatile situations.  This dude came at me, and forcefully.  I could have defended myself but the idea of the call wasn't to make things fucking worse it was to make them better , to diffuse a situation before it spiraled out of control.

I'm aware that when I stick my nose into someone else's business, unbidden, that I risk bloodletting.  So be it.  I don't do this randomly and without forethought so I'm not going to stop doing it.  I can handle the occasional bloody nose.

My motives?  Good.  The results?  Sheesh.

What I Got

From: "Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind" by Yuval Noah Harari . . . 

"We moderns have an arsenal of tranquilizers and painkillers at our disposal, but our expectations of ease and pleasure, and our intolerance of inconvenience and discomfort, have increased to such an extent that we may well suffer from pain more than our ancestors ever did."

I need to remember this the next time I think that things used to be better than they are now.  Things are fine right now.  Things were different before, that's all.  This here today is what I've got.  What I don't got is what I used to have.

They say that money don't buy everything, 
But what it can't buy I don't need, 
I need . . . money,
That's what I need.

I Promise You This . . .

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

Freedom: The state of not being imprisoned or enslaved.

So I've always liked the idea of wearing the world like a loose garment.  This is an image that makes sense to me - being engaged with life but not trying to control it.  Floating down the creek.  Paddling, sure, but following the course of the stream.  I was always turning the canoe around and trying to shoot the rapids in reverse.  Shooting the rapids while heading downstream isn't always the best idea but I was the guy trying to will my canoe over large rocks and waterfalls while paddling furiously in the wrong direction.  Now I try to see where the river is going.  I'm present but only moderately in charge.

This is my freedom.

Happy:  Having a feeling arising from a consciousness of well-being or of enjoyment;  enjoying good of any kind, such as comfort, peace, or tranquility.

I used to put a lot of pressure on myself to be happy.  In my mind's eye being happy meant having fun.  Sometimes it meant not experiencing pain.  In never crossed my mind that happiness was a peaceful feeling of well-being.  I was looking for exciting happy, not tranquil happy.  I wanted to be the dude having a fucking great time, not the dude sitting quietly, contentedly.

Content:  Satisfied.

Satisfied.  Not euphoric.  Satisfied.  I know, I know, it sounds boring but it works surprisingly well.

Tradition 10

"A.A. has no opinion on outside issues, hence the A.A. name should never be drawn into public controversy."

We were chatting away at our small 12&12 meeting last week about the opening few paragraphs of Step 12.  There was a guy there for the first time at our meeting who intimated that he had some sobriety under his belt.  Normally dressed, calm in demeanor, no red flags flying.  He did screw around with his cell phone during the introductory readings.  This pisses me off - it's disrespectful: "Sorry, I have to check my Facebook feed right now."  Then, when we started to read, he questioned whether there was a procedure in place to reread Step One if a newcomer was present.  No, we told him - it's too disruptive to keep starting over each time a new person shows up.

After a couple of good shares he introduced himself and started to speak.  He has lived overseas for a long time, recently returning to the U.S., and took his allotted time to go on a long rant about the U.S. health care system.  We sat there uncomfortably for a little while until one of our male attendees said, quite quietly: "Outside issue."  The dude pauses, stands up, and absolutely slams the hardcover book on the table and storms out of the room, showering us with shouts and curses.  The book bounces off the table and onto the floor.

I'll tell you that sometimes things happen so fast that you don't move a muscle.  I idly wonder  how I would react in a dramatic, unexpected event.  I imagine myself coolly doing the right thing.  Pfffftttt.  I didn't move an inch.

The guy stood outside and yelled for a few seconds before taking off.  The group sat in stunned silence before getting into an interesting discussion about how we should have handled the situation.  Many of us thought that our brother did the right thing interrupting someone who was clearly breaking a Tradition - trampling all over it - but I was surprised to hear that some of the members thought that we should have let him finish his thoughts, that he was eventually going to get to the point of his discomfort, that he obviously needed a meeting.  Right after he left one of the women got up and went to find him.  I thought this was a terrible idea.  "Be careful," SuperK said.

I followed up with a few people the next day and was again surprised to hear that the opinions went both ways.  This confirms my solid belief that I don't know what the hell is going on most of the time.  This is why I always check with lots of people.  Just because I think it doesn't mean that it's true.

I hope he isn't there tomorrow.  I don't need to feel threatened at a meeting.  Dude scared me so I can only imagine how some of the women felt.

Service

Service:  An act of being of assistance to someone.

I am enough.  I have enough.  I do enough.

Happiness is the state of living in the present.

Today I ask that I may be of service to somebody else. (Ed. Note: And by "service" I mean anything, not just big things).

As I prepared to swim this morning I said hello to a fellow swimmer who has been absent for quite a while.  She was alone - sort of unusual because I always saw her in the company of her husband.  They have a very sweet relationship, checking with each other on about everything they're going to do.  I've talked with him a few times.  He obviously has some cognitive issues - he tells the same stories over and over - but he's a really nice man.

So she explained that her husband has been suffering from Alzheimer's and that he took a dramatic and fast-moving turn for the worst.  She was quickly overwhelmed and had to put him into a managed care facility.  He recognizes her sometimes, but not always.  It must be a miserable feeling to have a constant companion torn from your arms.  I can almost imagine that the clean break that death would provide would be easier than this slow drifting away, there but not present.

I listened carefully.  I am torn between concern for other people and this hidden, gnawing, sneaky feeling that I don't really give a shit.  This is mostly cynicism mined for the purposes of humor but part of me wanted to get my swim over with and not listen to this woman's troubles.

When she was done talking and I was excusing myself to swim I asked if she wanted a hug.  I calculated that our relationship was established enough to warrant a hug in a mostly undressed state.  She really leaned in and held on for a moment.  I like to tell people that my belief is that God gives the hardest tribulations to the best people.  She appeared to be close to tears.

I felt good about this.

Yam? Or Sweet Potato? Riddle Me That, Batman

I yam what I yam and that's all I yam.  Popeye . . . The Sailor Man.  (Ed. Note: If your mama has named you Popeye you have no options - your destinty is to be a Sailor Man).

I need to remember that my purpose in life is not to please You.  It is not to fit into some norm that I think I need to fit into because everyone else fits - or tries to fit - into that mold.  My purpose is to grow spiritually and be of service to others and if I do that then I discover the True Seaweed.

I gotta tell ya - I kind of like the True Seaweed.  I don't mean that I'm a finished product, done growing and evolving, morphed into a higher life form, and I don't mean that I get to behave however I want, although I usually do that, anyway.  Just that the whole deal is to unpeel all of the societal bullshit and all of the expectations that I put on myself as to who I should be or how I should behave and then, hopefully, end up being who I'm supposed to be.

Whew.  Even I don't know what I'm talking about.

This has been a long process.  It isn't easy to set aside my desire to fit in but once I do I really feel free.  I try to be nice and pleasant and I'm happier when people like me but if they don't I'm not in the habit of losing sleep over it.  I no longer think I have to be everyone's cup of tea. And everything flows more smoothly when I'm being myself.  The kind of work I ended up doing, the people that I develop strong relationships with, the way I dress and act in public, all of this stuff is a far cry from the way it used to be and the result is I'm happier and more content because it's who I am.

I saw this tag line on a fellow meditators profile this morning: "I am enough, I have enough, I do enough."

Lot of power, that.

Ye Olde Seaweede

Sociopath (anti-social personality disorder):  A personality disorder marked by antisocial disorder, a pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others . . . 

I don't remember my dreams very often.  This may be because my repressed self is a ball of screaming gibberish, populated by horrible, horrible things.  Or it may be normal.  In any case I generally sleep well.  This may be because my mind is resting peacefully or maybe because I'm a sociopath who is willing to sacrifice all other people, places, and things if it spares me any discomfort.  

That sounds about right.

In my dream I was in some huge pool complex that seemed to be associated with a high school.  Not my high school and I was as old as I am now so I don't know what I was doing back in high school.  In many of my remembered dreams I show up for classes, often at college, a week or two after classes have . . . you know . . . started.  I don't have the books, I don't know where my class is being held, I haven't read or studied anything, and I'm scheming on how to get out of this mess. 

I'm no psychologist but it seems that a lot of stuff that comes out of my subconscious is about control.  That and trying to weasel my way out of whatever mess of my own making I'm currently embroiled in.

Anyway, I'm wandering around this large school-like structure, noting that the pool is full of people who aren't "doing it right," who shouldn't be there, then popping into massive locker rooms where I vaguely suspect my clothes - my other clothes, I guess, since I'm fully clothed - are locked up somewhere.  It really doesn't matter because I don't have a key or anything.  I also have to pee and am incensed that the urinals and stalls are just hanging right out in the fucking open.  At this point the school sort of morphs into this ornate shopping mall, one of the sort that would be called an Emporium or a Galleria or contain words that have superfluous "E"s hanging off the end, like "Towne Centre."

Maybe I need to buy something.

Going Both Ways

I was mulling over the phenomenon of taking myself too seriously when I stumbled upon my pair of bike-riding pants.  Normally I wear shorts but if it's too chilly in the morning I put on a pair of tight-fitting longer pants.  They can't be too loose or they'll catch in the bike gearing but they can't be too tight or they'll make everyone who sees me in them freak out.  You might think, at this point, that the point is I no longer care how ridiculous I look in these spandex pants.  But wait . . . there's more.

I bought these pants out of the bargain bin at a local sporting goods store.  I was pretty pleased with myself - I got a great deal on something I needed, unlike most of the crap that I buy for reasons that are obscure to even me.  The next morning I rode my bike and was pretty pleased with the pants.  Pretty pleased.  Good performance, stayed out of the gearing, no one laughed openly at my appearance.  I got home and tossed them into the laundry basket.  Somehow they get clean if I do this.  I don't ask why this happen.

SuperK walked into the room holding the now clean pants.

"You know these are women's pants, right?" she asked.

"They're what now?" I said.

She showed me the tag without comment.  Women's pants.

You know I don't really care.  In fact, I tell people I have on women's pants.

This is why I'm careful to avoid the women's section at department stores.  I'm just a little too tempted to try on some panty hose and a slinky cocktail dress.