Food in the Big Book

To the best of my knowledge the phrase "sour stew" does not appear in our literature.  Nor does the word "sour" or the word "stew."  In addition, salty is not represented

However, bitter and sweet are all over the place.

I'm hungry.

Will

Will:  One's independent faculty of choice; the ability to be able to exercise one's choice or intention; the act of choosing to do something. 

Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of god as we understand him.

This is one of those steps that I don't try to look at too closely because it would drive me to distraction, leading eventually to a state of insanity yet more severe than afflicts me already.

So my understanding is that I need to give up the ability to make choices for myself, in the Great Scheme of Things.  I don't think the step means that I can't choose between cereal or oatmeal for breakfast, except for those cases where I don't have either and/or oatmeal and it's not breakfast time.  Rather that I should defer to my Higher Power in all things great and small.

The problem is that with every issue in my life I'm driving hard to the hoop.  I've taken the kickoff and I'm sprinting down the sideline and I can taste the dirt in the end zone.  My instincts have something to say about everything.  They're not interested in deferring to someone or something else.

It's not easy to do.   It's not easy at all.  It's not easy to say: "Whatever."  To live my life well to the best of my ability and take what comes with equanimity and good cheer, secure in the knowledge that the results will be in my best interests.

Try it if you don't believe me.  

I want MY results!

Horrible Diagnosis: Confirmed!

I'm pretty sure that there isn't anything that I obsess about more than my health.  It is my great Go-To issue when I want to get upset, which is apparently something I really love to do given the fact that I'm upset so much of the time.  When everything is going fine - when the skies are blue, a gentle breeze is blowing, and the angels are singing nicely, I can always count on the status of my physical form to bring the pain if receiving the pain is what I want to do.

I am of the opinion that the internet was created so that people can confirm The Truth of whatever they're currently worrying about.  It's very easy to take a set of symptoms, log on, and find out that you have a terrible, craven disease that's going to take you down and take you down hard.  I mean, it's on the internet so it has to be true, right?  The only medium more irreproachable than the internet is The Television, the greatest teller of truth since that night I tried to talk my way out of a DUI.

And the cruncher is that I'm really remarkably healthy.  It's one of the things I'm most grateful for when I'm not too busy trying to find a horrible disease to afflict myself with on the internet.

I really should enter a monastery or buy a sensory deprivation tank and use it as my home - dark and quiet, sloshing around in a warm bath.  Sounds nice.  I went for many years to a semi-annual men's recovery retreat held in a Jesuit retreat house.  At first I wasn't too thrilled about a priest running a retreat - recovering alcoholic or not - but those guys drank as much as I did. The point is that there were no TVs or radios and phone use was discouraged - the individual rooms were spartan - a bed and a writing desk.  There were no distractions.  It was comforting. It helped me reduce the tumult in my head to a dull roar.

Mulling

I am mulling over the difference between the amount of time I spend worrying that something bad is going to happen to me with the amount of time where bad things are actually happening.  It has to be like a billion trillion to one.   I spend a lot of time - an inordinate amount of my time - worrying about bad things that never happen.  And when they do happen they usually aren't all that bad.  I handle 'em just fine.

Ch-ch-ch-ch- change! Change of Fools.

Change:  To become something different;  to make something into something different.

That's a lot of somethings in one definition.  That's not a very specific definition.  Pretty broad brush.

I hear this often and I believe it to be a great truth: I do not change something that needs to be changed until the discomfort of staying where I am becomes greater than the discomfort of the change.  I simply do not make this change.  It does not happen.  I can look at something that clearly needs to be changed, often something that is causing me discomfort, sometimes great discomfort, sometimes outright pain, and I will not change this thing.  I fear the change process more than the pain.  I'm sure that the change is going to cause me more pain than the pain I'm already in.  Facts are useless in the face of this kind of mental onslaught.  Evidence is ignored.

That's pretty much my world view: it's going to be worse.  Bad things are going to happen.  And they'll never go away.  This is why I'm such a cheery guy.

A Sour Stew

Secret:  Knowledge that is hidden and intended to be kept hidden.

That is a great definition.  I am hiding something and I mean to hide it.  The definition doesn't speak to the motivation for the secret, however.  I suspect in my case that's all for the best.  My motivations aren't top shelf.

"We're only as sick as our secrets" is a suggestion that resonates with me.  I am amazed at the power hidden things have to ruin my peace of mind.  I can take a small fact or an illusion or a hallucination, and let it marinate in the sour stew found inside my head until it becomes a monstrosity.  It usually feels great to let that stuff out.  

Thumb Bashings

My main man Willie is on the move again.  Apparently he's taken a liking to moving a bunch of times for reasons that are dubious at best.  There's nothing as relaxing as buying and selling houses, packing up all of your crap and moving it a long distance, all while ripping out well-established roots with violence and prejudice, and then trying to fit in someplace new, all while doubting and second-guessing the whole sorry enterprise.

Here's the thing: everywhere I got there I am!  The Men living inside my head are hot on my trail.  That's one reason I don't try to get too perfect with anything - I know I'm going to be just as unhappy in short order.

It's all very upsetting and all very exciting.  I like exciting.  I hate upsetting.  Can't figure out how to cleave the two asunder.  I believe, regrettably, that upsetting can be controlled.  I cling to the belief that I can make the upset go away as long as I manage the things well.  The idea that I can bargain away all emotional pain, psychic pain, is as ridiculous as believing that I can escape physical pain.  I can't bash my own thumb with a hammer - primarily because I'm forbidden to own a hammer or any other tools that can bash, cut, or pierce - and "manage" my way out of the pain.  I can deal with it appropriately but it's going to be with my for a while.

Doesn't stop me from trying.Ba