Connections

On our last long trip we spent most of our time in developing African and Southeast Asian countries around people who didn't have a lot of material things.  The infrastructure was deteriorated and the traffic and crowds of people occasionally suffocating.  SuperK and I talked mostly to the locals.  This, in my opinion, is the reason to go to another country.  To see how they do things and to get their point of view on life in the 21st Century.  Why would I want to talk to some retired oil    executive from Dallas who owns a summer home somewhere . . . or maybe two summer homes.           

We were curious as why so many people we talked to wanted our phone numbers.  Curious and suspicious.  Friendship, the cachet of having the contact info of a Big, Bad American, and the possibility of putting the touch on someone who could probably afford it down the road.  The ship personnel would have the additional motivation of scoring a tip of some kind at the end of the trip.  I didn't really care.  Some of the staff were genuinely nice because they were nice and I'm sure some were nice because it's their job to be nice.  If some young woman from a developing country is hoping for a tip after working for six months with no days off, averaging ten hours of work each and every day she should get a tip.  The small amount of money won't make a difference to me but goes a long way once she gets home.

Here's a sampling . . .

We had a guide on a rainforest hike in The Gambia that we talked to quite a bit.  We exchanged numbers and texted a few times, pleasantly enough.  He had a bit of a salesman/player vibe coming off of him so I wasn't surprised when he said that he had bought a car that would help him in his role as a guide and asked for $500 so he could buy an engine for it.  He dutifully sent a picture of his car - a car anyway - without an engine.  Personally, I would have thought the engine was the most important part of the car but I'm not much of a mechanical guy.  I pondered, politely declined, and he graciously accepted.  Have not heard from him since.

On the same excursion the tour operator provided a small coffee and tea stand at the start of the hike, manned by two extremely polite young men, who served up Nescafe and tea out of a thermos.  I sidled up and talked to one of the guys for a while, a gentle soul named Bax.  I thorougly enjoyed talking with this kid, a respectful Muslim struggling to get by.  We exchanged numbers and texted a few times with one of the main themes being that he now considered SuperK and I members of his "family," calling us Auntie and Uncle.  Part of this I could chalk up to the high regard Africans hold for elders in their orbit.  Part of me watched warily.  Phone calls started coming in which I parried with texts.  He insisted that he needed to talk about something but never left a message and wouldn't explain by text what he needed to talk about.  Finally, a long voice mail where he explained that the family was very poor and unable to afford tuition for his sister so that she could train to be a teacher.  He quoted a number: $275.  I found the online school and chatted with a representative who indicated a lower price for the course load she would be taking.  I had decided I could chip in and help the family, but one semester at a time and stipulating that I would pay the school directly, asking that he send along the application and bill for the first semester.  Couldn't do anything over the weekend.  Then, his sister didn't apply because she wasn't feeling well.  Then . . . well, that's where it stands now, on a Wednesday, five days later.  We shall see.  We shall see.  We shall see.

Now Thursday.  Radio Silence.

Friday.  Nothing further.

Tuesday: Status Quo

(I almost feel like sending Bax a note wondering if he would feel better about himself if he just told the truth and, ironically, more likely to receive money from me.  Nobody likes to feel they're being hustled.)

Two weeks later:  His sister has decided not to attend school but his other sister has just graduated from school and they need money to attend her graduation ceremonies.

At the end of a different rainforest hike we were funneled into a small area of outdoor shops where a kid who looked like Eddie Murphy herded us into his shop.  He was another gentle soul, more interested in talking to us than selling us anything, so naturally we bought a couple of things.  He quoted a price on one thing.  I added another thing and asked for a discount (I would have paid the quoted price but I was starting to feel like I was traveling from country to country insulting our hosts by not dickering at least a little bit) since I was buying two things.  He started to go over to his older cousin who was obviously the Major Domo of the shop.  That dude waved an OK without looking up from his phone.  As we were leaving he told me that his father died when he was young so he was appointing me as his American father.  O brother.  Off we went.  A minute or two later he scurried up with a small handmade friendship bracelet which he presented to SuperK, not asking for money (see what I mean about my dickering skills?).  Exchanged numbers with Ibrahim but haven't heard from him at this point.

In Sri Lanka we stopped in a jewelry shop because both of us love the experience of buying something that reminds us a little bit of the countries we've visited.

The ship, of course, full of youngsters from developing countries, was a fertile harvest for new friends.  They were clearly instructed not to ask for tips or money or contact information so as to not make any of the guests feel pressured or uncomfortable.  This cruise line has a policy of "no tipping required" although they do cleverly add a big tip onto your bill that goes into a pool for the whole crew.  They're happy to remove or reduce it but you have to ask.  I'm sure a goodly number of people just leave the tip on rather than go through the bother.  I leave some of the tip in place while giving money directly to the crew members who we interact with most frequently and I felt like kind of a dick doing so, like they were going "Yeah, yeah, sure you're giving money to specific crew members."  There were so many great people.  A young guy from Zimbabwe who - when I called myself an old guy at one point, apparently, although I cannot recollect this - began calling out "Young man!  Young man!" every time I saw him.  An Indonesian dude who was the pasta chef expressed outrage that I hugged the women and not him so the hugging began in earnest - I had to go around to the back of the station, hallowed and forbidden ground in my mind's eye, looking out at bewildered and bemused guests looking back in at me.  I felt like taking orders.  "You.  Beat it.  Fuck out of here, I don't feel like making you shit." that kind of exchange which I would have enjoyed immensely and would have cemented me as a legend in the crew quarters.  There was a Chilean woman behind the ice cream bar, a Filipino girl about the size of my big toe assisting at the sushi station, a woman from Kyrgyzstan who absolutely worshipped SuperK, abandoning her waitress station to chase us down and chat until she got the evil eye from one of the head waiters, a kind evil eye (he was Honduran, worked for the ship for 17 years - can you imagine? - leaving your wife and kids for six months at a time so that they'd have a better life on the wages you earned) along the lines of "C'mon, dear, you got work to do," the list goes on and on.  All I did, really, was express joy upon seeing them and taking a minute to find out a little, tiny, teeny bit about who they really were.  You could see these young people absolutely melt with pleasure that you were paying them any attention at all.  We talked to one woman who went out by herself and rented a tuk-tuk taxi by herself in Sri Lanka and got absolutely shafted by the driver, paying twice what she should have paid.  Later that day we gave he in cash what she was overcharged, letting her know we admired her adventurous spirit and hoped that this one experience with a cunning taxi driver (who was himself probably struggling to feed his family - I mean it wasn't Jeff Bezos, for chrissake, who didn't need the money) wasn't going to dampen her enthusiasm for new experiences.  On and on the list goes.  The joy and self-worth I feel from this simple acts of kindness . . . I don't know how else I could glean this pleasure from the world.

Listening? . . . Sigh.

Saturday is my Walk on the Beach day with a 47 year old man in The Program who is doing great and he's doing great without any help from me, to be honest about it, even though I greatly overinflate my importance in the world.  We were joined at the last minute by a 55 year old man who is doing pretty good.  I wouldn't call it great.  He's a dabbler in drug use.  I wouldn't do this personally but I'm no longer the arbiter of anyone else's behavior and it really sticks in my craw to say that because I do know how everyone else should live their lives.  

On a side note . . . I get the sense that the 55 year old guy looks at me as sort of an older brother while he views the 47 year old as a contemporary.  Age-wise he's right in the middle of the two of us.  I find this amusing.  I also see that he's treating his body as if he was a 30 year old and suffering some adverse consequences.  I tried to broach this with a kind perspective but I don't think he's going to change things up, probably until he suffers some even more severe adverse consequences.  This is also amusing - not amusing that he's going to suffer even more severe adverse consequences but that he's going to stonewall any perspective I might add and my perspective is fucking awesome.  This is also exactly how I used to respond when anyone suggested moderation in any of my behaviors.  I'm guessing he'll moderate only after he really messes up something in his body.

The walk consisted of a running conversation between the two of them, more of less.  My regular walking buddy mentioned this when we all parted.  I shrugged it off.  It was nice to listen to the back and forth of their talk, to hear the things that are of interest to them at this point in their lives, to see how they're relating to each other.  I find it amusing that when I hear two of my friends talk about social things that they're doing together - along with another collection of recovering people who also aren't that much younger than me but still view me as too old to be hip, even though I'm so fucking hip I can barely stand it - I can feel a little left out even though I wouldn't do any of the things they're talking about because I can't stay awake past nine o'clock and I don't like people and the things they do sound boring, frankly, so I guess what I'm saying is thank god I'm not being included.  Still a little pissed but grateful about it.

When I was still working as a salesguy I learned that silence could be a powerful tool in a sales call.  At first it was incredibly uncomfortable sitting with silence when I was supposed to be selling something but I found out that the silences were about a third as long as I perceived them to be and once I got used to them, practiced using them, they were far more uncomfortable to the engineer I was meeting with than they were to me.  I got to practice this listening technique repeatedly so I began to learn how to listen and I'm terrible at listening.  This was important because it was incredibly important to me to hear what they were thinking about, what their concerns and suspicions and biases were.  I could talk and talk and talk but if I wasn't dealing with what they wanted dealt with then I didn't usually get anywhere.  

So the listening part of the walk yesterday was just great.  It was great.  I can't help anyone, I can't be of service to anyone, if I don't know where their head is and I can't learn where their head is if I'm doing all the talking.  Don't misunderstand me - we all need to think out loud from time to time but the real joy in being alive is letting someone work something out while being a sounding board.  And with men it often takes a while for the problem to be revealed.  We're not great at telling someone else what is wrapping us around the axle.       

What's Right - Not What's Wrong

I introduced myself to a A.A. participant who was unfamiliar to me and discovered he's relocating to the area from a sober living house in the San Francisco Bay area.  We exchanged contact information and he surprised me by responding to my "hi, how ya doin'?"text that he could use some help finding a similar living arrangement here.  I didn't hear from him for a while and then he surprised the hell out of me by showing up at the meeting one morning and informing me he was in town, living in the sober living house I recommended.  He did not surprise me by implying it wasn't much to his liking but that he was going to make due for the time being.  I have since spoken with him about how important it is for me to try to find the positive in everything - which is a nearly impossible task - and not concentrate on what I don't like - which is an effortless and seemless facet of my life. 

I'm also becoming more and more aware of the simple joy I experience when I let other people live their own lives.  It's my nature to try to stay in touch with too many people and then to feel disappointment or resentment when this effort isn't returned.  I'm easing off the gas in this regard.  I need regular contact but I don't want to engage in hostage taking.  Where am I right now?  Who's in the room right now?  That's who I'm trying to focus on instead of marinating over people - real people, these people, beloved people - who aren't right there in front of me.  I'm not ignoring these people or forgetting about their existence but rather considering them in a more appropriate context.

Right Here.  Right Now.  Right?  Right?  Where are you right now?  You're not someplace else.

"There are two parallel tasks to spiritual life.  One is to discover selflessness, the other is to develop a healthy sense of self.  Both sides of that apparent paradox must be fulfilled for us to awaken.  So when we look into the question of self and identity in spiritual practice, we find it requires us to understand two distinct dimensions of self: selflessness and true self."

Jack Kornfield

Fight:  A violent confrontation or struggle involving the exchange of physical blows or the use of weapons.

We continue to set right any new mistakes as we go along.  We vigorously commenced this way of living as we cleaned up the past.  We have entered the world of the Spirit.  Our next function is to grow in understanding and effectiveness.  This is not an overnight matter.  It should continue for our lifetime.  Continue to watch for selfishness, dishonesty, resentment, and fear.  When these crop up, we ask God at once to remove them.  We discuss them with someone immediately and make amends quickly if we have harmed anyone.  Then we resolutely turn our thoughts to someone we can help.  Love and tolerance of others is our code.  We have ceased fighting anything or anyone - even alcohol. With our new attitude toward alcohol we are not fighting it, neither are we avoiding temptations. We feel as though we had been placed in a position of neutrality. That is how react so long as we keep in a fit spiritual condition.

Yeah. I have some pretty good weapons in my armory but King Alcohol goes nuclear right away. Now warning, no escalation, no proportionality in the response. Just blows everything up. No survivors. Boom.

The Four Divine States

"The four divine states the Buddha described of loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity."

I don't see "Ferrari" in there.  I can't help but think that's an oversight on the Buddha's part.  He's so busy thinking of other people he forgot to include that divine state.  I've never be in a Ferrari but  I bet it would make me feel divine.

I digress.  

"The near enemy of loving-kindness is attachment."

Alcoholics don't form relationships - they take hostages.  They cling and suffocate.  "But I can't live without you!" is not loving-kindness - it's a demand for submission and attention and acquiescence.

"The near enemy of compassion is pity.  True compassion is the resonance of our hearts with the suffering of another."

I like to keep in mind the difference between sympathy - feeling sorry for the pain and suffering  of another - and empathy - seeking to understand the pain and suffering of another.  "I get it" works better for me than "You poor thing."  Pity doesn't help me much.  I find it condescending and hectoring, especially when it comes from someone who has more than me or isn't currently suffering.  My very first sponsor drove a big white Cadillac and he never felt sorry for me.  He listened and then tossed out some suggestions.  He understood my misery but he didn't buy into it.  My misery was my own fault, by and large, or it was sort of a generic misery that is going to afflict all of us from time to time.

"The near enemy of equanimity is indifference.  True equanimity is balance in the midst of experience, whereas indifference is a withdrawal and not caring, based on fear.  The voice of indifference withdraws, saying, 'Who cares.  I'm not going to let it affect me.' "

Mental calmness, balance, composure and evenness of temper are great things.  I strive for this.  I try not to let other people, places, and things knock me akimbo.  I try to maintain a sense of calm that is not affected by their behavior..  But sometimes I can be of service by listening to someone else describe an upsetting situation without getting dragged down into the pain and suffering they may be going through.  It's not very spiritual to distance myself from anything that might upset me at the expense of the help I might be able to give another. 

"The near enemy of sympathetic joy (the joy in the happiness of others) is jealousy."

OK, I've had about enough here.  I've done my best to pretend to buy into the first three "near" states but this is a step too far.  If you have what I want or if you more than me even if it's not something I want at all I'm coming at you and coming at you hard.  You get nothing from me except envy and resentment.

OK, I'm kidding here.  I think I'm kidding here.  I hope I'm kidding here.  I hope everyone reading blows by me on the freeway in their very own Ferraris.  

"With all of this comes the reminder that we can't use 'spirituality' as a defense."  

I can't state adherence to the four divine states when my behavior leaks in to the near enemy categories.  The words appropriate to this behavior are pious and sanctimonious.

Laurels at Rest

 "Our immediate temptation will be to ask for specific solutions to specific problems, and for the ability to help other people as we have already thought they should be helped.  In that case, we are asking God to do it our way."

I would not mind having a dedicated line to God so that I could lay out the groundwork for everything I want accomplished before I get out of bed each morning. Fix this. Stop that. Help this person this particular way whether they want that kind of help or not. I'll expect all of this to be done before the end of the business day and for a full report to be dropped off on my desk prior to your knocking off and heading home.

I wish I was completely kidding here. I'm mostly kidding . . . but that's not great

"It is easy to let up on the spiritual program and rest on our laurels.  We are headed for trouble if we do, for alcohol is a subtle foe.  We are not cured of alcoholism.  What we really have is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition."

Laurels: Any of a number of shrubs or other plants with dark green glossy leaves.

Why would anyone want to rest on a shrubbery? Wait a minute - there's more.

Rest on your laurels: Being so satisfied with what you have achieved that you stop putting effort into what you have been doing.

Man, if I had a nickle for every alcoholic who comes a long, long way in the recovery process and then starts to coast, to glide. I'm not saying they all get drunk - many do, I fear - but that they stop growing. I take a "daily reprieve" to mean that an individual no longer behaves in a completely self-centered and selfish way. My touchstone phrase is "how much effort are you putting into your recovery each day?" Some of us are so situated in our lives that we can't spend hours in spiritual pursuits but I've never met anyone who couldn't put any time at all in. When I drank I always had the money and the time to drink and I could almost always rationalize away any possible consequences.

Like, Whatever, Dude

This is from today's Daily Reflections, our A.A. approved literature where members comment on an idea or concept from our Program that resonates with them personally: "When I uncovered my need for approval in the Fourth Step, I didn't think it should rank as a character defect.  But today I still enjoy getting the approval of others, but I am not willing to pay the price I used to pay to get it.  I will not bend myself into a pretzel to get others to like me.  If I get your approval, that's fine; but if I don't, I will survive without it."

I know this is a big theme in my own personal reflections.  I also know I have to guard against a little bit of self-satisfaction, a little smugness, in this approach to the world, as if I'm a "I do whatever I want" kind of dude.  That approach leads to selfishness and insensitivity.  However, one of the greatest freedoms I've been blessed to receive in my recovery is that I'm not so dialed into what you think of me.  I enjoy approval; approval often means I'm behaving pretty well so there's that; but if I am acting unauthentically, if I'm not being Stevie Seaweed, then . . .  then .  . . what the fuck, you know?  It's uncomfortable moving through life changing my behavior and beliefs so that you'll like me.  Most people like me or they're neutral, detached, and that's all well and good and is as it should be.  And there are a few people - I hope it's only a few - that find me off-putting.  Why would I think this is not the normal state of affairs?  If everyone finds me irritating then maybe I can take a longer look at my behavior but as long as it's a smallish subset of people that seems pretty reasonable.  Again, there are people out there who are popular and well-liked but leave me with that foul, metallic taste in my mouth.  Why this is shall remain a mystery but it seems to be the way of the world.

It's Enough Already With All of the People

Today after the morning meeting I spent some time working the room as people filed out.  This is really my favorite part of the meeting.  The "meeting" part can be tedious and long-winded sometimes and it pains me to say that if by "pains me to say that" you mean "doesn't really pain me to say that."  I'm not stating for a fact that some people are tedious and long-winded but they sure as shit strike me that way from time to time.  Some people interpret the three minute timer as a suggestion similar to the one that everyone should always stop at a yellow light.  It's not a three minutes for everyone else timer - it's a three minutes for you timer.  Other people interpret the three minute timer as a mark that needs to be hit before they stop talking.  It's not a marker indicating that you have to completely fill up the entire three minutes.  It's a timer telling you that holy shit, you've talked for three minutes in a room with thirty people.  I like to hear myself talk as much as the next person but three minutes?  That's the Gettysburg Address for chrissake.

I'm way, way off topic here.  The topic isn't self-righteous indignation although that is probably one of my Top Five topics.  Anyway, I try to track down people who have something going on that I perceive they may want to expound upon at more length than is seemly during the meeting itself.  I like the back and forth of a one on one conversation.  I try to be the last one to leave the meeting room so that anyone who wants/needs to talk gets the opportunity to do so.  Then, as I made my way down to the beach, I had an hour conversation with an old friend from high school; a guy I love dearly and enjoy talking to immensely but c'mon, an hour?  That's Einstein solving the Theory of Relativity for chrissake.   I had mentioned to a great friend from the meeting that I'd be available for a cup of coffee if he wanted to unburden himself a little about a life issue that was really sticking in his craw.  When I hung up the phone with my high school friend, verbally exhausted, I texted this A.A. friend  that I was headed his way and could meet but since his window of opportunity was pretty narrow that day I'd be fine postponing until he had more time.  My fervent wish that he would want to postpone.  Nothing but love to both of these guys but the post-meeting conversations and an hour phone call put me about an hour and a half over my Tolerate People time limit.  To my consternation he was worked up enough that he really wanted to meet that day.  I was simultaneously flattered to be of service as an A.A. long-timer and annoyed that I was going to be involved in another long conversation that wasn't primarily about me.

Hey, don't worry: I survived.