One Red Cent

In one of my meditation books the theme this morning was the assurance that when I've learned to be happy with myself, inside, then I will be much, much happier with the outside world.  I've learned that the stuff outside of me is not the stuff that's going to make me happy, deep down inside, for when I attach my happiness to that outside stuff then I make my happiness contingent on that stuff and that stuff is going to let me down, eventually.  Don't get me wrong  - there's nothing the matter with stuff.  I have a shit-ton of stuff and I enjoy a lot of it but I know that the enjoyment is contingent on my peace of mind.  Lotsa miserable rich people out there.

When I was getting sober in Indianapolis one of my first sponsors was a successful stock broker who drove a big, white Cadillac and he had a wife and kids and a nice house in a nice suburb.  He was a kind, kind, spiritual man with a big heart and he was also pretty blunt dealing with new twerps like me.  I would hear him talk about how important it was to improve myself from within, that the outside stuff was only window dressing that would never make me deeply happy and I was occasionally tempted to say: "Yeah, well, why don't you give me your car then, you sanctimonious prick."  Luckily, I was too afraid of him at the time to say such a thing but, on second hand, I bet he would have responded with a big belly laugh.  The shit we learn . . . .

Update: I sent a message to Detox Girl yesterday and did not hear back.  Obviously, I have not seen her at a meeting and she's been out of the hospital for a week.  While this is sad and does not make me happy I'm not surprised and I'm not upset.  Remember the Coke machine analogy vis-a-vis Seinfeld?  Most of us can't just walk up and tip it over - we have to get it rocking back and forth a few times and then it goes over.  Maybe she stays sober forever; maybe this is an important but not final step in her journey into sobriety; and maybe she never gets it.  None of that is any of my business.  I helped for my sake.  I gave without any expectation of return.  And for a couple of weeks I was in touch with the young woman who jumped in and did a lot of the shitty, hard work with Detox Girl.  I tapped on my phone from the comfort of my meditation chair and I spent a few hours in the ER.  Maybe the blessing for me was getting to know my friend better?  Maybe the blessing was listening to the insight of SuperK when we got out of the hospital as she shattered - no, not shattered, tempered - my Savior Complex when she observed that Detox Girl seemed to be kind of blase about her hospital experience.  

All good stuff.  All stuff I need to grow.  Stuff that means something and didn't cost me one red cent.