Don't Dabble In The Past

 I'm always writing down notes in my . . . well . . . notebook.  A few days ago I jotted this perplexing phrase: "Don't dabble in the past."  Yeah, no clue what memory that was supposed to trigger.

My relationships are a continual source of amazement to me.  I spend a lot of time riffing on how many people I hate and why I hate them and why I don't understand the fact that they won't get away from me . . .  I am joking, of course.  I am blessed with such a raft of friends that there's really no more room on the raft.  If you're currently not my friend and you'd like to be then you'll have to knock someone off the raft.

There's this guy I know from A.A.  He's way, way on the other side of the divide vis-a-vis politics and social issues.  We've developed a relationship over the years in large part, I think, because I have a ton more sobriety than he does so he uses me as a sounding board from time to time.  We've managed to set any contentious issues to the side and focus on common themes, although occasionally I get a glimpse of his Facebook feed which alarms and dismays me. He delivers newspapers in my neighborhood very early in the morning so if I'm up I'll pop outside, flag him down, and we'll chat for a minute.  Remember I don't really like him all that much.  We'll never be Go To Coffee friends. 

I recently took a subscription to the Sunday New York Times.  It's all I can do to get through that huge thing in a week so I decided to curtail my subscription to Sunday only.  The next Friday I got a paper with this note attached: "Happy Friday."  Now the paper splats on my driveway whenever he has an extra copy . . .  which is every day.  I presently have a pile of newspapers.  I can't read all these newspapers but I'll be goddamned if I'm going to tell him to stop.  I mean it's a free newspaper!

I've gotten bogged down in an extended free newspaper riff when the real point is: This is Alcoholics Anonymous.  This is the result of a life dedicated to growing spiritually and being of service.  This kind of stuff happens all the time.  I'm not surprised any more when it happens.  If the paper stops coming I'll be fine.  If I continue to get it I'll be fine.  When I listened to this guy drone on and on about problems of his own making, problems which interest me not a whit, a concerned and solicitous and mostly fake expression plastered on my face, I wasn't hoping for a free newspaper.  I was trying to be of service.  I was trying to be helpful.  I was trying not to think of my self every goddamn minute of the day.  Sometimes when I'm listening to people unburden themselves I'm barely listening.  I'm thinking: "I am so grateful to not be thinking about myself."

Remember this: Don't Dabble in the Past!