He's also reading the book "The Four Agreements." First of all, I don't know why his sponsor has given him this difficult book to read in his first six months. Give the second grader "Archie and Jughead Go to Band Camp," not "War and Peace." Secondly, it's none of my business what his sponsor is asking him to read. I'm not keeping anyone sober. Finally, it's a pretty damn good book.
On a side note I bet you didn't know that the full name is Jughead Jones and it isn't really specified anywhere that Jughead is a pejorative name. It sure sounds like a less than complimentary name to for a guy wearing sort of spiked-out half-crown half-porkpie hat. He comes across as pretty cool and laid-back but unlucky with the ladies . . . if you know what I mean. Now that I think about it Jughead Jones sounds like a Yale linebacker from 1943.
He's reading the book in chunks, big chunks; my A.A. friend, not Jughead. I have to shake my head knowingly when I see someone attack recovery in this fashion. It's not a sprint, it's a slog. This graduate level spirituality text doesn't lend itself to quick reading and it's not going anywhere, anyhow. I do empathize with the desire to go fast, go faster, go damn fast and get it finished. If I passed anything along at all it's the hint that he should take a big, deep breath and try to absorb what he's reading. I usually add that when I write down what I'm thinking about something it serves the double purpose of cementing those thoughts in my consciousness and uncovering the absurdity of some of the things that make sense when they're alone, in my own head.
If you insist on driving ninety you'll get there sooner but miss all the great scenery along the way plus you might run over a rabbit.
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