Not An Easy Choice My Ass

"To be doomed to an alcoholic death or to live on a spiritual basis are not always easy alternative to face.  If a mere code of morals or a better philosophy of life were sufficient to overcome alcoholism, many of us would have recovered long ago.  But our human resources, as marshalled by the will, were not sufficient; they failed utterly."

I've always loved the mental construct of what happens when you tell an new person that they have two choices: To continue drinking and using, living a painful and remorseful life, before ending up  in an institution or a grave, or accepting a spiritual solution to the alcoholic problem, and then watching the individual struggle to make a decision.  "Uh, can I get back to you on that?  The answer isn't clear at the moment."   Jeeee-zus H. Christ, are you kidding me?

Waddling Down the Quay

As you might expect from a legendary and life-altering trip memories and reflections on my time in the African and Asian developing world bubble to the surface at odd and unexpected moments.  I continue to be struck by these two thoughts: 1. Man, were the people in these places great - happy, resigned in a dignified way, eager to please, and 2. Man, do we have it good here in the developed world.  You know how you can take your good health for granted and then you get sick and feel like shit for a while and when you recover it feels great to just not be sick and you think: "Man, why do I take my robust health for granted?  I'm going to stop doing that." and then you stop doing it anyway?  

I mused today about a port we visited in Malaysia.  To reach the tour buses the passengers had to walk down a long jetty passing a restaurant and some shops along the way.  Hundreds of passengers.  On the way back to the ship after our tour we stopped at the outdoor restaurant for a coffee and the legendary hookah experience.  I could have had a free coffee on the ship and some free canapes or appetizers or crudites or finger foods or whatever the fuck they served us and I could have avoided the always somewhat uncomfortable experience of navigating the ins and outs of a restaurant in a foreign country: how do you order, how do you pay, does anyone speak English, am I going to eat/drink something bilious that will lead to projectile vomiting, those sorts of thoughts.  We stopped and had a wonderful, wonderful cultural experience, highlighted by the attention paid us by our bright-eyed and amazed child-waiter from Pakistan, who absolutely wallowed in the attention we paid him, clearly eager to interact with us but nervous about his English skills and wondering what level of dismissive we might be as wealthy Westerners.  His boss, a mildly racist Indian, sat with us for a while.  I didn't know what anything cost beforehand and was, of course, amazed at how little the bill came to, as I tipped like one hundred percent because the bill was so ridiculously small.

Here's the most striking fact of this encounter: we literally watched dozens and dozens and scores and hundreds of cruisers walk by and no one else stopped.  No one.  Not a single person.  I don't know how I interpret this: fear of a cultural encounter, arrogance about their place in the world, a desire to save a few dollars by eating the safe, paid-for ship fare in a safe, comfortable, familiar setting?  To me they missed the whole point of being in a foreign place by waddling from a cushy ship to a cushy tour bus to a curated tour and they back again.

The Taking and the Giving

"We cannot see everything from beginning to end.  Life is too large to see that far.  Sometimes it seems we have to give more than we receive.  We sometimes have to reach beyond what we really want to do, or take part of someone else's load rather than see them break down.  We may lose sight of God, but God never loses sight of us.  The scales balance out and we see that we cannot get less than we give when the gift is our best.  It is impossible.  We cannot love more than we are loved."

More crossover from another spiritual source.  It's all so connected.  I often feel put upon by life, that I'm getting SCREWED, that it's all unfair.  Pffffftttt.  I'm just lucky I don't get what I deserve.

Silence is Golden

Here's my acid test for speaking to someone else and this is especially salient when I disapprove of this individual's behavior:

Does it need to be said?

Does it need to be said by me?

Does it need to be said right now?

I mentioned this friend who seems to be overly preoccupied with women.  I thought long and hard about how I could broach this subject with him without violating the tenents of my most important personal codes: Stay the fuck out of everyone else's business.  With many of my insignificant and minor conundrums I ask my god to help me act if and when such a time arrived and, otherwise, keep my trap shut.  Usually, this time never presents itself, validating another of my personal codes: No one wants your opinion.  Consequently, not saying anything is often the wisest thing I can do.  So I get my jacket out of my car on Saturday and we don't even get across the street before he starts quipping on the topic.  You know .  . . sometimes the message about what I should  do comes in loud and clear.

"What could be more tiring that seeing ourselves in whatever direction we turned?  If we had nothing to challenge our views, would we ever think more deeply, rise higher?  It is not our  differences that make the difficulty in the world but our prejudices against difference."  Cherokee Lady

I get this.  I surrounded myself with other dysfunctional people to mask my own dysfunction.  I enjoyed bitching with these ne'er-do-wells about how The System was screwing us, how The Man was out to get us.  I didn't have a Voice of Reason saying something along the lines of "Fuck you talkin' about?"  or "Fuck's the matter with you?"  Trenchant wisdom along those lines.

Insanity

Some passages from More About Alcoholism:

"I ordered a whiskey and poured it into the milk.  I vaguely sensed I was not being any too smart."

"Parallel with our sound reasoning there inevitably ran some insanely trivial excuse for taking the first drink."

"Our justification for a spree was insanely insufficient in the light of what always happened."

Insane:  Exhibiting a severely disordered state of mind; mentally deranged; very stupid, crazy or dangerous.

Are you picking up on a theme here?  Crazy behavior.  I vaguely sensed I was being none too smart when I got into my car to drive home from the bar where I had twelve beers.  That kind of thing.

Fire!

I can usually find some commonality with everyone I meet.  I can almost always find this with an alcoholic, recovering or not.  And then there is that subset of people with whom I share a scary amount of emotional genetic DNA.  These are the people that I feel like I can help the most.  These are the people with whom I can share parts of my self that I believe will really resonate.  These are the people who teach me the most about myself.

I have a young friend in my meeting who burns energy like a mouse on meth.  Tries to accomplish way too much way too fast.  While I admire the get-up-and-go I shake my head at the agita that this need-for-speed can produce.  I'm in that subset of people who do a lot and berate myself for not doing more.  I'm not even sure what I'm trying to accomplish at this point.  I'm fucking retired for chrissake.  In one of my journals I have a long English to graduate students, for chrissake.

BTW, agita was one of those words.  See how I snuck in it this morning?  Angst would have worked just fine and it's a word that's much more recognizable.  Am I pushing myself to learn or am I trying to sound smarter than I think I am?  Whatever.

I've always loved the fire analogy.  Fire is elemental and is neither good or bad.  It's fire.  It doesn't have a personality.  You can light ten candles and the fire is exactly the same in each candle.  You can use the fire to cook your food, heat your house, and take a nice, warm shower.  You can also scorch all the skin off your face, burn your house to the ground, and reduce everything in the Pacific Palisades to smoldering rubble.  Same fire.  The scorching fire isn't bad and the warm-shower fire isn't good.  It's how I apply it.  

It's the same thing with my high personal motor.  I can get a lot done and I can make myself neurotic by berating my shortcomings.

The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves

She asked me why.

So I went ahead and told her.   R.L. Burnside

I cannot turn my face away from the concept that wisdom is experience plus knowledge.  I was always pretty good with the knowledge part of things while woefully lacking in the experience part of things.  Or perhaps I should say grasping and digesting the experience part of things.  I would eagerly learn about something and then ignore the lesson until I had punished or rewarded myself with the consequences.  Even that was not enough some of the time as evidenced by the repeated beatings I administered to myself.

There Is A Solution

Some stuff from the Big Book chapter entitled "There is a Solution" with special attention paid to the excellent, excellent descriptive words that kooky megalomanic Bill W chose to use . . . 

" . . .  drinking careers  . . .  "

Career:  A profession for which one trains and which is undertaken as a permanent calling; a person's progress or general course of action.

Don't you just love that he calls our drinking a "career?"  I know I ejected two promising careers used in the colloquial sense as a job path because my interest was more in the lines of excessive drinking.

"The idea that somehow, someday he will control and enjoy his drinking is the great obsession of every abnormal drinker.  The persistence of this illusion is astonishing.  Many pursue it into the gates of insanity or death."

Obsession:  A persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea.

Astonish:    The emotional impact of overwhelming surprise and shock; astounded.

Persistent: Continuing firmly or obstinately in a course of action despite difficulty or opposition; continuing to endure over a prolonged period.

Illusion:  A deceptive impression of reality.

I will refrain from pursuing a deeper investigation into the concepts of a "gate of insanity or death."  These concepts stand on their own merits.

"The delusion that we are like other people . . . has to be smashed."

Delusion:  A false belief about external reality, held despite incontrovertible evidence to the contrary; something that is believed to be true but that is actually false.

Smash:  Violently break into pieces.

I love that there are kind of two classes of verbiage: the mental illness contingent (insanity, delusion, obsession) and the vigorous action contingent (smashing, pursuing, deceiving).

... pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization.  Over any cosiderable time we get worse, never better."

Incomprehensible:  Impossible to understand; unintelligible.

Over any considerable time we get worse, never better.  That is as good a line as I've found in The Big Book.

Off The Rails

The instant something offends me I'm off the rails.  Resentment surges through me and nothing is going to satisfy me.  The guy who didn't use his turn signal?  To the guillotine!  We learn how to rate people and systems - and how to berate them.  The easiest thing in the world is to look at someone and say what we would have done had we been in their place.  But I suspect I wouldn't know what to do either until I found myself in the same place going through the same things.

The Same Old Stuff In One Neat Package

I spent some time yesterday with my best friend in the whole world, Hope the Dog.  I'm lying.  My best friend in the world, actually, is one Little Stevie Seaweed, but that goes without saying.  Anyway, the reaction of this animal to my presence is one of the most heart-warming things that has ever happened to me.  It's an absolute explosion of love.  It is love expressed physically.  She acts like she thought she was never going to see me ever again every time she stops by.

Which brings me back this morning to one of my favorite go-to topics: what the hell is love anyhow?  In my family of origin it was such a restrained emotion, very defined and doled out with great discretion and reluctance and only to people who fit a narrow criterion.  Don't get me wrong - I knew I was loved but it was often flat and dull and emotionless, something that was expected of everyone,  befitting a conservative, religious family.  This is what I had when I was launched out into the broader world.  Aware of the concept but constrained between tight guardrails.

While I began to tell people that I loved them in a much more relaxed way several years ago it was the death of my sponsor Ken that really rocketed me into the Fifth Dimension.  I've spoken about the details of his death before - this deeply Catholic, profoundly conservative guy whose beliefs offended me so much that for a few years I spent more time arguing with him than looking for the similarities in our respective programs. This changed after a while and we had a great friendship.  It was when he was close to death at the end, bedridden, taking morphine for the pain, that he began to say that he now understood God as an expression of pure love.  This really struck home with me; so much so that I now use it as a suggestion to anyone struggling with the idea of God or a Higher Power.  With a little Hope the Dog imagery thrown in to make it even simpler.  Who can get pissed at the idea of pure love? 

Later I had this interaction with a man who was a good friend many years ago, a man that I hadn't spoken with for thirty years, maybe more.  Someone asked him if he knew me and he replied: "Yes, he's a good friend.  In fact, he's one of my best friends."  This struck at my core - like Ken's awakening - rocketing me into a different (and better, c'mon!) interpretation of love.  My buddy talks about this incredibly long, incredibly thin, but incredibly strong thread that connects old friends over time and distance, that it's hard to snap this thread even with disuse.  

I have gotten to the point where love takes on so many different forms and guises.  I can't tell you how deeply, deeply satisfying this is.  It has allowed me to step out of the restrictive box and begin to tell all kinds of people that I love them.  It has shown me that there are so many forms and types of love with different degrees of intensity and intimacy and this freedom has allowed me to feel and also to express this weird-ass emotion much more freely and with a total unconcern as to whether it's reciprocated or expressed.  None of my business what you're feeling.  I sense it most of the time but not always and I am so okay with that fact.  Other people undoubtedly have their own definitions of what it is that might not jive with mine.

Hey, how about that shit?

I try to jot down one special thing I'm grateful for every day and I'm struck by the fact that it is almost always a live human being.  There are a few dead human beings in there and the occasional great travel experience or delicious type of cake but it's mostly people I see or talk to and where I can express this emotion.  It's the essence of life, isn't it?

Back to Saint Frank: "To seek to love rather than be loved."

Seaweed: On the Move

Moving too much; doing too much; and feeling like it isn't enough.  It's who I am.  It has taken me a long time

Touching people by giving them some space.  These people fall in my sweet spot.  I'm not effective when I try to direct the actions of other.  A.A. is not the military.

It used to be that quiet scared me.  I didn't know what to do if I wasn't active.  I think that I perceived stillness and inactivity as laziness and when I was able to finally slow down a little bit my whole outlook on life and my overly optimistic schedule began to change.  I've discovered peace and contentment in listening to music, taking walks, talking with friends.  My constant busyness was an effort to find this peace and contentment outside of myself instead of discovering well-being inside myself.  

I find value in the most difficult of circumstances.  I find the answers to the mysteries of my life in what I don't do well.  In the places of my struggles and vulnerabilities.   Difficulties and weaknesses often lead me to the very thing I need to learn.

Not Entirely Buying This . . .

Our Saturday meeting is much larger than the weekday meetings.  I went yesterday - I led the meeting, in fact, so, yes, it was a tremendous meeting - but I confess that most of the time about half the stuff I hear doesn't rock my world.  A lot of people talk for too long and a lot of people are far too boring and I know the general schtick of a lot of them (as they know my general schtick) so I can almost speak in their stead I know their message so well.  Fortunately, my recovery program includes the meeting, the meeting before the meeting, the meeting after the meeting, and any social activities I enjoy with other recovering members - walks, coffee, and such.  One of these is a stroll on the beach with a guy I'd say I'm unofficialy sponsering-ish.  He has a sponsor and is engaged with him but it never hurts to hear a different opinion, especially if it comes from me.

He talks often about women he knows in The Fellowship.  He's married, happily so, with a family, and has not acted improperly as far as I know - and really what do I know?  we're great liars after all - but I'm struck with how often this is the main topic of our conversations.  He doesn't talk about his children or his work but he does talk about these women.  A lot.  Almost every time.  Every time, if I think about it.

Anyway, here are the questions I'd have him ask someone expressing similar behavior and feeling similarly uncomfortable about it:

Why are you talking to women after the meeting?

Why aren't you talking to men?  I understand it's normal and healthy to talk to both men and women but it should be like a ratio of three to one and you rarely talk about the men so I'm guessing that's not the ratio you're shooting for.

Are you talking to the older women with lots of sobriety or are you heading to the cute, young, single women?

Why are you getting phone numbers of women? And once again I'm guessing its the young women and not the old timers?

At my morning meeting there were probably ten to twelve guys with under six months of sobriety.  Talking to any of them?  Getting any of their phone numbers?

If I had a video of you talking to these women would I see an aggressive body stance - too close, holding eye contact for too long - and hear any words that could be considered suggestive or ambiguous?

There's an anecdote in The Big Book about the fact that our freedom from alcoholism means we can go to places that serve alcohol or where drinking will be present - situations that in the past would have meant that we would inevitably get drunk - IF we can affirm that we have a sound social or business reason for being there.  We're reminded that if we suspect we might just be looking for a frisson of the old excitement of drinking and drunkeness, a contact high so to speak, then we'd be better off staying away.

My experience is that if someone is talking about something that there's a reason for that.

Guts V Veneer

"In our estimation, most other people are happy, some supremely happy.  But are we thinking this because we are making comparisons?  Envy and resentment of other people keep our eyes focused outside ourselves where nothing is ever quite the way it looks.  There is great contentment in minding our own business.  We can correct what needs correction, make amends if we need to - but let the questioning go."

I've always enjoyed the reminder that I'm comparing my insides - the raw, unfiltered emotions and fears and wants that I have - with someone else's outsides - a carefully curated and refined act that always contains a lot of justifications and misdirections meant to present to the world the presence of a wonderful, fascinating human being.  I'm comparing my guts to your veneer.

Never winning that fight.

Must Do or Should Do?

I'm speaking with an old friend who has some long-term sobriety but who has drifted away from any kind of spiritual and recovery practice.  On our weekly phone calls he has thrown a lot of topics at me in a short period of time; so many that I can only speak to a few of them at a time.  I like that I can sit down later on and type up what I hope is a more complete summary of all that came to my mind during the call.  The following is an example:

"I find that I often see what applies to me and relates to my experience after I let thoughts percolate in my mind for a while.  That being said this may or may not apply to you but it is definitely part of my story.  As a Great Thinker, as an Intellectual, and I use that latter phrase as a stand-in for someone who enjoys thinking and not so much as someone who is smart although I am smart as shit.  Just ask me - I'll confirm it.    

I'm glad to hear that you are writing.  I encourage this practice.  I had/have a tendency to hold too many thoughts in my mind at the same time and this can be paralyzing.  I cycle through them over and over without . . . you know . . . doing anything, taking any concrete action.  When I was working and back at my desk the first day after a vacation I'd look at the pile of paperwork, contemplate all of the voice mails and emails, and freeze, unsure how to do it all at once, right away, perfectly.  I got into the habit of making a list - two lists, in fact -  of Must Do and Should Do actions.  It helped to see it, concretely.  It helped organize it in a physical way.  Then I'd do the first thing on the list, to the best of my ability, and often be furious that I couldn't resolve it immediately (person not at their desk, person too busy to talk, person needing to check with someone else).  I learned to take a deep breath and then move on to Task Two.  I did what I could and then I moved on.  I took an action.

There are, of course, no chapters in the Big Book called "Into Thinking" or "More About Thinking"  or  "How We Think."

I find myself getting a little overwhelmed when I hear all that you have going on in your life.  You've got some quick fixes and some big projects.  If one of my tasks is Take Out the Garbage I take out the garbage.  If another is Run A Marathon or Improve My Relationships then that's going to be a long-term project.  The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.

Peace out.  And my goal is always to try to share my experience, strength, and hope.  If it's applicable to your circumstances, fine.  If not, go talk to someone else and see if what they've got to say makes more sense."

 

 

 

No Pain - No Gain

I see that as I get older I'm not gaining more and more wisdom of many things but concentrating that wisdom into fewer and fewer concepts or facets or facts of my exististence.  There's a woman I know who studies fungal parasites.  She has a doctorate in fungal parasites.  A late dear friend was a doctor who was a famous authority on the skin-world barrier in infants.  I mean, c'mon.  Skin keeps shit out.  You give lectures all over the world on this?  I can sum it up pretty accurately: Skin keeps good things in and bad things out.

Anyway, every time I ponder the wonderful mystery of taking pain and turning into a blessing I'm astounded at how profound a concept this is.  I have a positive genius for turning pain into suffering.  

"Pain is Inevitable - Suffering is Optional. "  Little Stevie Seaweed.  

I have a positive genius for trying to ignore pain or believing that I can exert my will and force the pain into pleasure.  I cut my finger with a knife yesterday.  Did not care for the sensation.  Pain.  I can learn from the experience but the pain is going to come get me from somewhere, from so many sources, that I better get better at managing it and not be so worried about how to avoid it.  

"No one here gets out alive."  Jim Morrison

I imagine that I can change the world and then be happy.  But it's not by changing the world that I'll find happiness and awakening but by transforming my relationship with it.  Very often what nourishes my spirit the most is what brings us face to face with our greatest limitations and difficulties.  Again and again and again I have to remember that Wisdom is Knowledge + Experience.

Here's a Tibetan take on the subject: "Grant that I may be given appropriate difficulties and suffering on their journey so that my heart may be truly awakened and my practice of liberation and universal compassion may be truly fulfilled."

Today I can look back on what I perceive as the greatest tragedies in my life and see how those experiences led me to this time of my life and this time of my life is without a doubt filled with more contentment and peace than any other time that I can think of and I think of other times a lot.  

"No pain - No gain."  Mike Ditka (Actually I have no idea who said that but Mike Ditka came to mind first.)

The Benefits of Pain

"Every spiritual life entails a succession of difficulties because every ordinary life also involves a succession of difficulties, what the Buddha describes as the inevitable sufferings of existence.  The basic principle of spiritual life is that our problems become the very place to discover wisdom and love.  As we follow a genuine path of practice, our suffering may seem to increase because we no longer hide from them or from ourselves.  When we do not follow the old habits of fantasy and escape, we are left facing the actual problems and contradictions of our life."  Jack K

I've always liked the acronym SOBER - Son of a Bitch, Everything's Real.  I've always liked the reminder that one of the great benefits of being sober is that we get to feel everything again and one of the great irritants of being sober is that we get to feel everything again.  Suffering is not something to be avoided or suppressed or changed.  It's suffering.  It's the nature of things.  Human beings suffer from time to time.  That's how it has always been and that's how it's going to be and I don't get to avoid that.  Sorry, Seaweed.  Do something with the pain instead of pretending it's not there.

The Real Alcoholic

There are a couple of descriptions of the "real alcoholic" in the Big Book chapter "There Is A Solution."  Because the book was written when The Fellowship mostly dealt with desperately low-bottom alcoholics some of the narrative trends too extreme for me and my history, and therefore doesn't closely resonate.  But when I read the text closely, analyze the descriptions with perspective, I uncover a lot of truths that do apply to my experience.

To wit: "The real alcoholic may or may not become a continuous hard drinker.  But at some stage in his drinking career (don't you just love the use of the word 'career' when used to describe alcoholic drinking?) he begins to lose all control of his liquor consumption, once he starts to drink.  He has a positive genius for getting tight at exactly the wrong moment, particularly when some important decision must be made or engagement kept."

I think back on the two great wrong moments in my life - one academic, one career related - when I made the unconscious decision to drink instead of making the important decision or meeting the important engagement.  At the time I would have disagreed with the characterization of "Fuck it - I need a drink" but deep down I knew that was exactly what I was doing.  I had lost the will to override my need to drink, damn the consequences.  I got drunk every day but because I avoided hard liquor by and large I didn't get insanely drunk.  I was vaguely aware I was destroying things but not aware enough to stop what I was doing.

A New Man

In "The Doctor's Opinion" Dr. Silkworth shared an anecdote about receiving a visit from a former patient who he had considered an alcoholic of the "hopeless variety."  An amazing term for a human being.  Remember Otis the town drunk in the Andy Griffith show?  The town drunk.  Dress him in disheveled clothes and slur his words and only show him in Andy's jail and it's all great fun.  Andy doesn't even lock the doorf Otis is so out of it.  Is Otis married?  Does Otis have kids at home?  Does Otis have a home?  Where does Otis get the money to drink like he does? Ha Ha Ha for Otis.

Anyway, in Dr. Silkworth's retelling he literally could not recognize the man.  His features and mannerisms were remotely familiar but that's where all resemblance ended.  The patient left his office a free man and never drank again.  A few days ago a guy was at our meeting that I hadn't seen for a few years and I had a similar experience.  Although I knew him by name his appearance was so radically changed he appeared to be someone else.  It was another big Wow moment.  I complimented him on the fact that he had finally "got it" (he was a homeless to live-in-his-truck kind of low-bottom drunk) and have great confidence that he'll thrive going forward.  I run into another guy on my beach walks from time to time, a guy who looked at the world through a contentious, angry, put-upon lens, a guy so distasteful to me that I would pretend to be on the phone when I passed him by.  Today, he looks quite relaxed.  When I remarked on this he simply said that at one point all of his diligent work paid off and he popped through all of that anger and resentment to a better, more relaxed place.  I do not doubt his word.  His spiritual growth is so profound that it has altered his appearance.

Yes, Yes, More Meditative Thoughts

"Stand still.  No matter how hard it is, stand still and let what has already been started work itself out.  Don't talk, don't touch what has been set in motion.  To press and push and double check the works when it is all normal and moving can be damaging.  Stand still and keep a single eye.  If the principle is sound, it will do good work.  When we believe in what we are doing and we have done it to the best of our ability, then it is time to keep our hands off and spend time blessing.  Reach past the present moment to a new vision.  See the end result.  See it completed successfully.  Never mind the in between - only say it is working well."  The Cherokees

Sometimes thoughts are presented so beautifully, so annoyingly, without a lot of extra words or embellishments, that I can only copy them word for word.  If something moves me in a particular way I will occasionally jot down a thought on the page containing the wisdom.  For the above reminder all I could write down was: "Damn."  I mean . . . this is the Serenity Prayer.  This is the sentiment offered when we ask for the strength to do what we should do, the patience to wait quietly when we've done the best we can, and the wisdom to know which is which, and don't overlook that last part because we have lived a life where we push when we shouldn't and wander off when we should be doing something.

"Sticking with a spiritual training requires an ocean of patience because our habit of wanting to be somewhere else is so strong.  We'e distracted ourselves from the present for so many moments, for so many years, even lifetimes.  In meditation at first, thoughts carry us away, and we think them for a long time.  Then, as concentration grows we remember our breath in the middle of a thought.  Later we can notice thoughts just as they arise or allow them to pass in the background, so focused on the breath that we are undisturbed by their movement."  Jack Kornfeld

This dude, this Buddhist master, has such a clear way of expressing the beauty of what we can expect from a practice of meditation.  The benefits of being able to sit quietly is beyond reproach.

Shower Meditation

I know, I know, more crap about meditation . . . 

Each time an enticing image or an interesting memory floats by, it is my habit to react, to get entangled, or to get lost.  When painful images or feeling arise, it is my habit to avoid them and distract myself.  I can feel the power of these habits of desire, of distracting myself, of fear and reaction.  These forces of disruption are so fierce that after a few unfamiliar moments of calm, my mind rebels.  Again and again restlessness, busyness, plans, unfelt feeling, interrupt my focus.  I have to steady my canoe, let the waves and rapids wash by me.   

One thread it's not unusual to hear in A.A. is that "I don't do a formal sitting meditation but I do meditate when I'm . . . " and you can fill in just about anything with driving and taking a shower being very popular.  I dunno . . .  Sounds lazy to me.  When I wanted to drink there wasn't no mountain high enough . . . wasn't no river wide enough . . . to keep me from YOU!  The "you" here being alcohol.  I was motivated.  I made time.  I came up with funds.  I reprioritized my priorities so that drinking wasn't edged out.  That being said I can find the time to meditate.  I've got ten or fifteen minutes to meditate especially since the benefits are so massive.  The Book uses the phrase "intensely practical."  I've got to see the benefit to doing something.

Because I'm not an A.A. hard-ass I acknowledge the benefit in being meditative.  The goal of meditating is to place myself in a position where I'm present in the moment at all times.  Like showering or driving my car.  Nothing the matter with that.  I just think it's an attempt to find a loophole to putting in the time and doing the work of actually meditating.  I'm certain there are no references to shower meditation or driving meditation in our literature.  And, BTW, the sections/chapters on prayer and meditation are quite long and quite detailed.

It's Never Too Late to Start

A dear friend of mine told me recently that he had started on a program of self-improvement that included meditation.  Naturally, I was stoked.  I sent the following note to him:

"Super psyched to hear about your incursion into self-help.  I would be more generous and call it a start on an enhanced spiritual life and a more satisfying and enlightening journey I can not imagine.  I was happy to hear that your instructor emphasized some regulation (not control! never control!) of your thought process and that most of us use awareness of the breath as a great starting point.  The past is gone forever and the future may never come so why spend a lot of time there?  Obviously we all have to make plans but my problem comes when I plan results instead of taking a step forward and seeing what happens.  If I had to sum up the whole philosophy of AA in a couple of words I'd use our beloved One Day At A Time slogan.  You're no doubt seeing that we can distill that down to being in the moment and that one of the most powerful ways to get in the moment is to breathe and pay attention.  

I have been meditating for a good thirty years and often laugh at how difficult it can be.  Our minds are made to think and think is what they're going to do, goddammit.  My mind had spent my entire life in control, running hog-wild, and then I decided I'd take back some of that power?  My mind did not/does not want to do that.  I no longer get frustrated about this - I tell new people in AA that if you're trying to meditate, to be present, that you're doing it right, you're doing great, you're in a tiny minority of people walking this Vale of Tears.  It can be especially troublesome for high achievers like us.  Our animal brains - More money!  More power! More sex! - serve an important function by keeping us alive.  When you think about it your needs are enough food and clean water and a safe, warm, dry place to sleep.  Everything else is a want.  I also believe that because these needs are met daily for privileged people like us that our minds start to manufacture crap to worry about.  Fear is a realization of a danger - Anxiety is fear about things that do not exist or that can't be identified.

I'm not religious.  But I am in possession of a spiritual belief in the order and goodness and fairness of the universe.  I'm grateful most of the time.  I'm calm most of the time.  I rarely get angry and this from a man with a fearsome temper.  I chalk it up to walking a spiritual path to the best of my ability.  'Seek to love rather than be loved; Comfort rather than be comforted; and to understand rather than be understood.' "

 

 

 

 

Down Will Come Baby, Cradle and All

 Wants versus needs, baby, wants versus needs.  This is a crucial fact of my life.  Am I listening to my heart or am I listening to my mind?  My heart is never going to fail me while my mind can lead me astray.  

The interconnectedness of all people and all things - what a miracle!  The ability to hold tightly onto friends while realizing that some will fade or drift or be placed outside my life.  Feeling that connection anyway.  Making sure I push forward, but loosely and with awareness.  Wear the world like a loose garment.   

I was thinking about my spiritual life/growth yesterday after reading the part in Bill W's story about his White Light Experience.  Struck with belief.  Jolted into the spiritual world.  Ah . . . nuts.  I've known this to have happened to approximately zero people during my time in recovery.  Most of us come to grasp our faith kicking and screaming and clawing our eyes out.  I grew up in a standard Christian church and I didn't find it particularly annoying and I didn't find it particularly comforting.  Somewhat annoying and somewhat comforting at times, sure, but as sort of a background hum and not a big, constant, in-your-face presence.  I was reassured in a vague, non-specific way by the insistence that there was something bigger than me floating around out there somewhere although the idea of Good and Evil leading to Heaven or Hell was not helpful at all.  Terrifying, in fact.  I freaked out about a root canal.  How do you think I might react to an image of burning for all eternity in a lake of fire?  Jesus H. Christ, who comes up with this stuff?  I listened to my mother say "If I should die before I wake, I hope the Lord my soul to take" as I was lying in bed trying to get sleepy.  That really helped.  Insert into the mind of a fearful, anxious child some imagery about dying while sleeping.  That'll get them to settle down.

If you look at the records people have left behind as soon as they were able to draw on cave walls you find food, sex, and Gods, so I don't feel too bad about having internalized a sense that I'm not the pinnacle of the universe.  I say a casual hello to my Christian God every morning in my Quiet Time - being careful to not be too servile, scraping, and obsequious, letting this God know I'm doing him a big favor and not the other way around.  I also add a request that all of the doubts I feel and wavering I experience be taken into account as a pretty reasonable request for some pretty implausible dogma.  In a nutshell: God comes down to earth and takes the form of a man; dies and goes to Hell where he defeats death and evil and Satan; then rises from the dead and floats up to heaven like a big helium balloon where he dwelleth for ever and ever and ever?  How about the parable where he changes water into wine?  If I'm God in a human form I'm going to change gravel into diamonds or shrubbery into super models, that kind of miracle.

  Although an active alcoholic would probably be pretty excited over the ability to turn tap water into alcohol.

Strangler Figs

 Meditation is a patient process.  What we need is a cup of understanding, a barrel of love, and an ocean of patience.  Bring yourself back to the point of your concentration quite gently.  And even if you do nothing during the whole of your hour but bring your heart back a thousand times, though it went away every time you brought it back, your hour would be well employed.  St. Francis de Sales

They never ran out of beer, wine, or spirits on the ship. Never did. THAT they always had.

Hope The Dog is still my expression of pure love. That dog is my favorite living thing, animal or vegetable, walking this planet. Or growing on this planet, as the case may be, although the Strangler Fig is up there pretty high.

The Cherokee Lady once more: "Our friendship has been strong through many seasons, but this time brings you to mind so vividly.  Why must we rely on such changes (she's talking about the fall turning to winter landscape) to remind us that we are friends, not acquaintances.  All is important - the way we laughed together, the times we comforted each other, the tears we shared and the deep understanding.  It surely must be the hope, the vibrant life of power unused - the power of love to transcend time and space and lost connections.  It is the same power that is all good, all peace, all ours by divine right.  It is a precious partnership between friends."

Restless, Irritable, and Discontented

 Dr. Silkworth again: "Men and women drink essentially because they like the effect produced by alcohol.  The sensation is so elusive that, while they admit that 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 that comes at once by taking a few drinks - drinks which they see others taking with impunity."  bb  

We were on a ship where there was a shit-ton of alcohol sloshing around.  I believe I mentioned my consternation that the commissary would run out of soda water and grapefruit juice but not one single type of wine or spirits or beer.  THAT they could always get their hands on.  Anyway, while we were not tempted to drink both of us began to get slightly annoyed/frustrated with the presence of all the alcohol.  While we did not spend time in the bars and nightclubs and casinos on the ship we did eat and there was always alcohol on the table if we were dining with anyone else.  In my experience socializing with people you don't know is somewhat stressful  and most people can ease their discomfort with a touch of alcohol.  I only saw a few people drink to excess - no eighty year olds in a fistfight over a perceived slight - but you could see the relaxation, the ease with oneself, take over after a glass or two of wine, an ease that I was not able to access.

I did have some trouble with a couple of teeth while we were traveling.  Mild discomfort, mostly, with some persistent aching and the occasional more troublesome pain when I chewed on the side harboring the offending molar.  On one of the first nights a dude got airlifted off the ship.  That dude had problems.  I had a tooth that was misbehaving.  Just trying to keep things in perspective.

Big Hammer Seaweed

 Coffee and some pre-packing before we meet the World Famous Kevin at a coffee shop.  Always great to see old friends and experience that incredibly thin, incredibly long, but incredibly strong thread that exists in these kinds of relationships . . . 

Two Weeks Later . . .

In an interesting happenstance, this man reaches out to me during the trip with a heartfelt admission of some life difficulties that he's experiencing and the fact that he's drifted far enough away from an actual spiritual program that he's not sure where to start to right his listing ship. I hope that I can be of some help going forward.  I ask that my Higher Power show me each day how I can be of service to another person.  I guess this happens from time to time in a significant way although all I’m really asking is to be aware of the small kindnesses I can offer up that constitute the bulk of each day.

I know that he has stayed sober but surmised that he had quit engaging in any kind of organized recovery. Not a mortal sin. Lots of people get sober in Alcoholics Anonymous and then stay sober on their own. I'm not a fan of this technique - it doesn't work for me - but who gives a shit what I'm a fan of? If you are staying sober and you are reasonably happy then you're doing great. To my credit I did not bring any mention whatsoever about recovery when we met. He's a good friend and it was great to see him. I wouldn't be of service if I was intimating that you weren't doing it right and especially if I'm not asked my opinion of whether or not you're doing it right. I think this was a case where silence was indeed golden. I think he saw an ease and peace with SuperK and me that he realized was missing in his life. The tendency in these situations, in my experience, has been a desire to make up for lost ground in huge chunks. Whew, good luck with that. What takes a long time to fuck up takes a long time to repair.

When you undertake a spiritual discipline, frustration comes with the territory. Nothing in our culture or our schooling has taught us to steady and calm our attention. We're kind of a society of attentional spastics. Concentration is never a matter of force or coercion which really pisses me off because I'm a Big Hammer Guy. If it can't be fixed with a Big Hammer then it can't be fixed. This awareness doesn't mean separating myself from experience - it means allowing it and sensing it fully.

So Many People

 "The craving for alcohol has never been, by any treatment with which we are familiar, permanently eradicated.  The only relief we have to suggest is total abstinence.  Much has been written, pro and con, by physicians, but the general opinion is that most chronic alcoholics are doomed."  The Doctor's Opinion, more or less.  Might be a little Seaweed rewording going on as well.

Chronic:  Persisting for a long time or constantly reoccurring; long-lasting and difficult to eradicate; a chronic condition does not go away quickly or easily.

When I travel I like to talk to the people who live in the place I'm traveling to.  While this sounds pretty fucking obvious it can be a little stressful, a little uncomfortable, to interact with people who are often quite different from myself.  It's quite common for people traveling together to congregate in a tight group. among themselves, comparing notes on what it's like to be in a foreign environment while avoiding dipping into the environment itself.  So I'm always wandering off and talking to workers and staff and locals.  One of the things we noticed was that locals like to grab phone numbers.  Being a suspicious son of a bitch I often wonder why?  Is it prestigious to have the phone number of a big-shot American?  Have I actually touched someone in a meaningful way?  And, of course, there's the possibility that someone is going to try to gain from this financially or to leverage an American contact into something beneficial.

See what you think . . .  

SuperK spent some time hiking one-on-one with an assistant guide who was trying to further her education and mentioned applying to schools in the U.S.  Really haven't heard from her.

A guide from The Gambia that I stayed close to during our rainforest hike because he was such a fountain of knowledge.  He struck me as a bit of a player, a guy whose good will was perhaps masking an ulterior motive.  I exchanged some messages with him - he always refers to me as "my brother" in our exchanges  -  of a bland and inoffensive nature until he mentioned that he bought a car to help out  in his tourism business - a car lacking an engine for which he requested a donation of five hundred dollars.  Personally, I would think that the engine would be the most important part of a car but maybe he found a non-engine car with some rehab potential.  I deferred for a bit before telling him I would not be able to help him at this time.  He responded with grace and good will and we'll see where we go from there.  You know, the guy might have just been taking a shot.  Good for him.  That amount of money would not cripple my finances so I may help out at some point.

A young woman on the ship from Thailand with whom I developed a close bond.  She's twenty-four years old, working on a boat with few of her countrymen, missing the women in her life who are in the interior of Thailand - grandmama, mama, sister.  I asked after her father and she was vague - he lives in Bangkok, far from her home, and she didn't offer any other details or mention him at any point.  She would scoot away from her station to give the both of us hugs and then hang around for a bit, smiling, bashful, looking back and forth at the two of us, before getting back to work.  I have been texting with her.  She has asked for nothing.  She calls me dad.  I don't know about this at all but I feel like I touched someone.  I realize that I can be of service by "seeing" someone for who they are instead of the usual official politeness that most guests provide.

A young guy that I talked with who was manning a coffee stand servicing one of the jungle hikes we took asked for my number.  He calls me uncle and SuperK aunty and expresses a suspiciously great loss that he doesn't get to see us any more.  I'm hopeful my attention was welcomed but I sense that he's angling for something.  He's called a few times using the WhatsApp app which is unusual but doesn't mention why he's calling.  I'm keeping him at arm's length. I feel a request brewing that I'd like to avoid.

The guy who sold us some jewelry at a shop in Sri Lanka and I exchanged numbers, ostensibly because he hoped we would post some positive reviews about his business on social media.  I reached out once.  Nothing.  Then, several days later, three pictures of his family.  I loved it

Go Away or Sit In Place

 Yesterday was Root Canal #2 Day.  It is not one of my cherished days and one I would not recommend enthusiastically to anyone.  It wasn't noticeably worse that Root Canal #1 day but that still doesn't make it a favorite day of mine unless, upon reflection, I note that it is not to followed by #3, at least not directly, in the near future.  That being said it's not as bad as it used to be; no worse than having a cavity filled or a crown fitted or being punched in the mouth by a bare-knuckle boxer.  Both Root Canal Days were remarkable for the fact that three full syringes of novacaine were injected into my tender gums.  "This is not a good sign," I thought.  You never want to have a procedure where there are a lot of other people watching, in a gallery or auditorium or as a teaching moment for a lot of students.  You never want word being passed around excitedly that "you gotta be in Surgery Room Four at two o'clock - you aren't gonna want to miss this."  You'd rather have the endodontist yawning with boredom at the repetition of a routine procedure.

(I did ask the endodotist when she decided to specialize in root canals.  She said when she did her first one in dental school she immediately knew this was her path.  Whew . . . . )

Anyway, as a great proponent of meditation I pride myself on my ability to see the Good in any situation or to at least try to find something Good but, in any case, in every case, to look at the travail unflinchingly.  Meditation is not the ability to make a bad thing go away or to change a bad thing into a good thing but to calmly reflect on the nature of the thing at hand.  I was happy to note that when I was going into the procedure room for #1 I loosed a quip that made the staff chuckle - I can imagine that most people are a little grouchy and not loosing happy quips.  I mean . . . it's not the fault of the staff that I don't take care of my teeth or that I have shitty teeth or that my teeth, as a general rule, are past their "Best Used By" date.

My revelation for #2 was that I was able to sit in the chair while waiting for the anesthetic to take full effect and . . . just sit in the chair.  I was in the chair - no getting around that or away from it, either.  But I wasn't upset and I wasn't trying to pretend I wasn't in the chair.  I was waiting to get a root canal and I was grateful that I had the money to pay for this outrageously expensive procedure and that I had the willpower to put myself in the position to get a problem solved.  I didn't do that when I was drinking.  I tried to run away from the problem.  If my car started to make an alarming noise I just turned up the 

But I resolved my greatest gratitude for the existence of Novocaine.  Just a hundred years ago the solution for a bad tooth involved a pair of pliers.  Thirty years ago we had anesthetic but it wasn't as effective as it is today.

I have one absolute guarantee.  I will NOT have any more problems with those two teeth that no longer have functioning nerves.