From our literature:
"The spiritual substance of anonymity is sacrifice. Because our Twelve Traditions repeatedly ask us to give up personal desires for the common good, we realize that the sacrificial spirit - well symbolized by anonymity - is the foundation of them all."
And from Yoga's Precepts of Social Discipline:
Satya: Truthfulness. Note that sometime we may know that our words are literally true, but do not convey what we know to be truthful. This is a child's game. Satya means not intending to deceive others in our thoughts, as well as our words and actions.
I never like to hear that I can't bend my words so that I can lie but claim that I'm not lying, technically. Anyone can just lie. That's easy. I'm a spectacular liar, exhibiting a natural ability to lie and combining that with many years of diligent practice. If I had spent as much time studying as I did lying I'd be an astro-physicist right now, whatever that is. The real skill comes in feinting and parrying, looking left and going right, and convincing someone that something that isn't true is, in fact, true, all while not letting any technically lying words pass my lying lips.
Think about it - who can do that?
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Monday, September 29, 2014
Stevie Seaweed - Please Get Out of the Way
I need to keep working on the "Being of Service" mindset. And I need to keep in mind the "It's Only Help If Someone Else Wants It" paradigm. Just because I'm world-renowned for my Fried Snail Souffle doesn't mean that everyone is going to appreciate it when I swing by with some leftovers. And, most of all, I must be on guard for "Stevie Seaweed - god help us all - thinks he's in control."
Willie shared a story with me this morning where he got everything lined up just where he wanted everything to be lined up, the result being, of course, that he screwed himself to the wall.
Nothing like a drunk getting what he wants.
The point here, if there is indeed a point - no sure thing - is that, once again, I swung into action on my parents real estate situation and very nearly took a couple of actions that would have helped precisely no one. Luckily, I've learned that I'm an idiot with the instincts of a bigger idiot so that most of the time I think about doing something but don't do anything, the result being that everything works out OK.
I think that I know what's going on for what reason, exactly?
I may have mentioned getting two people involved with my parents' house - two good and trusted friends of many years standing. As the situation evolved both of these good men steered me toward the other even though I was sure that each of them would be pissed and defensive about the mere presence of the other. I am making sure through the whole process I'm being very honest and very open about the whole process. It's scary, this telling the truth, but it usually works out the best in the long run, no big attraction for a short run kind of guy. I'd much rather lie to make sure I don't experience any discomfort; ironically, though, when I tell the truth I remember that I don't have to remember what I said, 'cause if I said it then it must be the truth.
I think both of these guys, despite some financial interests, have my and my parents best interests at heart.
Still blows me away when this happens. It is still counter-intuitive for me.
Willie shared a story with me this morning where he got everything lined up just where he wanted everything to be lined up, the result being, of course, that he screwed himself to the wall.
Nothing like a drunk getting what he wants.
The point here, if there is indeed a point - no sure thing - is that, once again, I swung into action on my parents real estate situation and very nearly took a couple of actions that would have helped precisely no one. Luckily, I've learned that I'm an idiot with the instincts of a bigger idiot so that most of the time I think about doing something but don't do anything, the result being that everything works out OK.
I think that I know what's going on for what reason, exactly?
I may have mentioned getting two people involved with my parents' house - two good and trusted friends of many years standing. As the situation evolved both of these good men steered me toward the other even though I was sure that each of them would be pissed and defensive about the mere presence of the other. I am making sure through the whole process I'm being very honest and very open about the whole process. It's scary, this telling the truth, but it usually works out the best in the long run, no big attraction for a short run kind of guy. I'd much rather lie to make sure I don't experience any discomfort; ironically, though, when I tell the truth I remember that I don't have to remember what I said, 'cause if I said it then it must be the truth.
I think both of these guys, despite some financial interests, have my and my parents best interests at heart.
Still blows me away when this happens. It is still counter-intuitive for me.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Le Chaperone
I was at a Farmer's Market in Vacation City last week, a glorious opportunity not to be missed in this part of the world. I had strolled around, buying so much cheap, fresh fruit and vegetables that I had to make two trips to my car. The sun was shining, the palm trees were waving, angels may or may not have been singing - it was right out of a Hollywood movie set. My final task was to buy a ridiculously delicious lunch for my wife and me from a food truck. If you buy ethnic food from people of that very same ethnicity, people who cook each order after it's placed, people who speak that ethnicity's language better than your own, you're going to eat good.
I was standing there waiting for my food to come up when I was surrounded by a group of developmentally disabled kids and their two chaperones. One of the kids - maybe even a young woman - was perusing the contents of a tent set up by a vendor of cheap plastic crap. She held up a novelty headband - one that had Mickey Mouse ears or googly eyes affixed to long, jouncing springs, I didn't really pay attention - and showed it her chaperone.
"$2.50," announced the cheap plastic crap proprietress.
"Isn't that great?" the chaperone said. "Halloween is coming up. Maybe we can buy it next week."
I leaned in, trying to be discreet. Really, I was.
"What if I buy it for her? I whispered.
"Oh, no, that's OK," replied the chaperone, probably wondering what the long-haired creep with a pork pie hat was up to.
"Seriously, I'd like to," I said.
The chaperon announced to her charge what was going down; I passed the two-fifty to the girl; and the booth-ite made a sale. I beat it the hell out of there. I really did. It was such a ridiculously small gesture that I would have been embarrassed by even one more word of thanks. I mean, this kid was in sorry shape - she wasn't looking at a lot of varied opportunities in her life. I don't mean to suggest she couldn't be happy, just that she definitely got shortchanged in what most of us consider to be blessings. Most people - not all, mind you - would look at me and look at her, and choose my circumstances.
I'm speculating here. Maybe I've overestimating my appeal to the general public. I haven't had a lot of people come up to me and compliment me on my circumstances.
The troupe, of course, passed by my car as they left the area. The girl was clutching a little bag with her headband.
"Thank you," the chaperone mouthed at me, as I sat in my Very Expensive Car.
I'll leave it up to you to guess who felt better about that whole episode.
I was standing there waiting for my food to come up when I was surrounded by a group of developmentally disabled kids and their two chaperones. One of the kids - maybe even a young woman - was perusing the contents of a tent set up by a vendor of cheap plastic crap. She held up a novelty headband - one that had Mickey Mouse ears or googly eyes affixed to long, jouncing springs, I didn't really pay attention - and showed it her chaperone.
"$2.50," announced the cheap plastic crap proprietress.
"Isn't that great?" the chaperone said. "Halloween is coming up. Maybe we can buy it next week."
I leaned in, trying to be discreet. Really, I was.
"What if I buy it for her? I whispered.
"Oh, no, that's OK," replied the chaperone, probably wondering what the long-haired creep with a pork pie hat was up to.
"Seriously, I'd like to," I said.
The chaperon announced to her charge what was going down; I passed the two-fifty to the girl; and the booth-ite made a sale. I beat it the hell out of there. I really did. It was such a ridiculously small gesture that I would have been embarrassed by even one more word of thanks. I mean, this kid was in sorry shape - she wasn't looking at a lot of varied opportunities in her life. I don't mean to suggest she couldn't be happy, just that she definitely got shortchanged in what most of us consider to be blessings. Most people - not all, mind you - would look at me and look at her, and choose my circumstances.
I'm speculating here. Maybe I've overestimating my appeal to the general public. I haven't had a lot of people come up to me and compliment me on my circumstances.
The troupe, of course, passed by my car as they left the area. The girl was clutching a little bag with her headband.
"Thank you," the chaperone mouthed at me, as I sat in my Very Expensive Car.
I'll leave it up to you to guess who felt better about that whole episode.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Peace
Peace: A state free of oppressive and unpleasant thoughts and emotions.
I've had the same sponsor for about 25 years. My Old City sponsor. I've made it a point to have a local sponsor wherever I land but I've stayed in touch with this guy continuously for this entire stretch of time, talking to him at least once a week, more if circumstances warrant, and, as you know, circumstances do indeed warrant. He recently learned that he's pretty sick. His doctor said 4 to 7 months. That's pretty sick. He may have more time than this but it doesn't look likely.
Frankly, I can't imagine my world without this guy. I can say with no hesitation that there is an intimacy for me in our relationship that is not duplicated with anyone else, even my birth family. That's The Fellowship - that's what we get in our recovery community.
I spoke to him after I heard the sad news. He was not feeling sorry for himself and he would not let the conversation linger on his illness.
"So, how are you doing?" he asked.
I felt ridiculous talking about my petty dramas to someone who is looking at very little time left. Little Westside Jonny said that my sponsor is at peace. He is ready to go. He won't fight death tooth and nail. Sometimes people who aren't at peace with themselves and the world and their god go kicking and screaming, angry and afraid. Some people quietly get their affairs in order, prepare themselves. I'm not suggesting that he's throwing in the towel but he isn't going to go to extraordinary measures to prolong the inevitable, either.
"That's exactly what I'd expect from him," SuperK said.
Our Program suggests that we are people who wouldn't ordinarily mix. It uses the analogy of survivors of a shipwreck who find themselves in the same lifeboat - there are no longer any captains or passengers or maintenance workers. There are people happy to have found a way out and more than willing to chip in to make sure that everyone survives. That's The Fellowship.
My sponsor and I could not be more different as people. We rarely find common ground on controversial issues like politics and religions and social justice. I mean we aren't even in the same ocean let alone the same lifeboat in these areas, yet we've managed to keep up a strong and productive friendship for all of these years. I believe that we admire and respect each other.
This is not going to be a pleasant thing for me and it is, as you know, all about me. I think I'm pretty upset but I can never tell right away - I'm not a crier or a moaner, more of an internalizer. I get depressed, lose my energy. That's kind of where I am right now and I know that everyone is very interested in how I'm doing because it is, as I've mentioned before, all about me.
I've had the same sponsor for about 25 years. My Old City sponsor. I've made it a point to have a local sponsor wherever I land but I've stayed in touch with this guy continuously for this entire stretch of time, talking to him at least once a week, more if circumstances warrant, and, as you know, circumstances do indeed warrant. He recently learned that he's pretty sick. His doctor said 4 to 7 months. That's pretty sick. He may have more time than this but it doesn't look likely.
Frankly, I can't imagine my world without this guy. I can say with no hesitation that there is an intimacy for me in our relationship that is not duplicated with anyone else, even my birth family. That's The Fellowship - that's what we get in our recovery community.
I spoke to him after I heard the sad news. He was not feeling sorry for himself and he would not let the conversation linger on his illness.
"So, how are you doing?" he asked.
I felt ridiculous talking about my petty dramas to someone who is looking at very little time left. Little Westside Jonny said that my sponsor is at peace. He is ready to go. He won't fight death tooth and nail. Sometimes people who aren't at peace with themselves and the world and their god go kicking and screaming, angry and afraid. Some people quietly get their affairs in order, prepare themselves. I'm not suggesting that he's throwing in the towel but he isn't going to go to extraordinary measures to prolong the inevitable, either.
"That's exactly what I'd expect from him," SuperK said.
Our Program suggests that we are people who wouldn't ordinarily mix. It uses the analogy of survivors of a shipwreck who find themselves in the same lifeboat - there are no longer any captains or passengers or maintenance workers. There are people happy to have found a way out and more than willing to chip in to make sure that everyone survives. That's The Fellowship.
My sponsor and I could not be more different as people. We rarely find common ground on controversial issues like politics and religions and social justice. I mean we aren't even in the same ocean let alone the same lifeboat in these areas, yet we've managed to keep up a strong and productive friendship for all of these years. I believe that we admire and respect each other.
This is not going to be a pleasant thing for me and it is, as you know, all about me. I think I'm pretty upset but I can never tell right away - I'm not a crier or a moaner, more of an internalizer. I get depressed, lose my energy. That's kind of where I am right now and I know that everyone is very interested in how I'm doing because it is, as I've mentioned before, all about me.
Friday, September 26, 2014
wheem-a-whip, a-wheem-a-whip
Instinct: A natural or inherent impulse or behavior.
I've pondering my instincts lately - the desire for sex, money, and power. Funny, these instincts. The Book talks about them a lot - it suggests that we aren't aware of any instances where an individual has been able to completely eliminate them, no matter how problematic they can be, and then in the same breath mentions that a lot of our problems arise when we make the satisfaction of these instincts our primary purpose. We go way, way overboard in our pursuit of money, power, and sex.
Imagine that - an alcoholic going overboard.
The instincts are important because they keep us alive. We need to eat and have a safe place to sleep and procreate. Well, maybe not to procreate given our overreach on the sex instinct but still. And let's face it - humans are just pretty fancy animals when it comes to the instincts. Our brothers and sisters in the animal kingdom aren't shy about their instincts. Your average lion isn't thinking: "Hey, I've had enough gazelle - maybe I should share with the rest of the lions." They eat until they're stuffed to the gills.
Am I suggesting that we're no better than the animals? Is that what I'm suggesting? And what are you going to do about it if I am? Well, punk, what are you going to do?
Actually, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I jotted down these electronic notes a few days ago when something or the other was making sense. Clearly, nothing is making sense at the moment.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle,
The lion sleeps tonight.
Wheem-a-whip, a-wheen-a-whip, a-WHEEM-a-whip . . . .
If you want to get technical about it I think lions are actually going to be found in the savanna and not the jungle.
Maybe that's my point.
I've pondering my instincts lately - the desire for sex, money, and power. Funny, these instincts. The Book talks about them a lot - it suggests that we aren't aware of any instances where an individual has been able to completely eliminate them, no matter how problematic they can be, and then in the same breath mentions that a lot of our problems arise when we make the satisfaction of these instincts our primary purpose. We go way, way overboard in our pursuit of money, power, and sex.
Imagine that - an alcoholic going overboard.
The instincts are important because they keep us alive. We need to eat and have a safe place to sleep and procreate. Well, maybe not to procreate given our overreach on the sex instinct but still. And let's face it - humans are just pretty fancy animals when it comes to the instincts. Our brothers and sisters in the animal kingdom aren't shy about their instincts. Your average lion isn't thinking: "Hey, I've had enough gazelle - maybe I should share with the rest of the lions." They eat until they're stuffed to the gills.
Am I suggesting that we're no better than the animals? Is that what I'm suggesting? And what are you going to do about it if I am? Well, punk, what are you going to do?
Actually, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I jotted down these electronic notes a few days ago when something or the other was making sense. Clearly, nothing is making sense at the moment.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle,
The lion sleeps tonight.
Wheem-a-whip, a-wheen-a-whip, a-WHEEM-a-whip . . . .
If you want to get technical about it I think lions are actually going to be found in the savanna and not the jungle.
Maybe that's my point.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Parry That Thrust
Control: To exercise influence over; to suggest or dictate the behavior of.
And here's another gem of wait-while-keeping-your-mouth-shut-isms . . . .
My cousin - who is a much nicer person than I am - and her husband have decided to visit my parents. This is going to be a very nice thing - my cousin and my mother are very similar people so they're going to enjoy pawing over each and every last piece of detritus that's still crouching in my parents' house, oohing and aahing over each and every one. They won't get anything accomplished as far as reducing the size of the pile, mind you, but my ma is thrilled that someone else loves her stuff as much as she does. I've seen my cousin's garage and it looks a lot like my parents' basement - the two of them couldn't clean out a thimble with a fire hose.
So I get the word second-hand or third-hand, maybe tweeted to me by a migrating European swallow passing over my house, that my cousin wants to sleep at my parents' small apartment and also wants to save some money by using my parents' car. I don't want to put words in someone else's mouth - or at least I want to do it in a way that seems like I'm not doing it so I don't get blamed for doing it - but my folks didn't want me to stay there and they didn't want me to use their car, and I'm their son, black sheep though I may be, but I'm still pretty sure what their stance about anyone else using their car is. My ma actually threw up a polite defense, saying that they didn't have an extra bed anymore, but my cousin parried this thrust by saying that they'd sleep on the floor. I could hear my father moan from 2500 miles away - my cousins are extreme extroverts and dad doesn't like being around anyone so this had the makings of a match in a fireworks factory.
And what should I do? Tell my cousin to back off, politely, sticking my nose where it very well may not be wanted? Call ma and ask her if I should intercede, almost certainly breaking one of her cardinal rules - speaketh thou not ill-will-ly of thine relatives? I want to be an advocate for someone if I can but I also need to be careful that I'm not thrusting my nose directly into a parry of some sort.
And . . . the entire thing worked out just fine with absolutely NO interference on my part.
Howabouthat? The world didn't need me in control.
And here's another gem of wait-while-keeping-your-mouth-shut-isms . . . .
My cousin - who is a much nicer person than I am - and her husband have decided to visit my parents. This is going to be a very nice thing - my cousin and my mother are very similar people so they're going to enjoy pawing over each and every last piece of detritus that's still crouching in my parents' house, oohing and aahing over each and every one. They won't get anything accomplished as far as reducing the size of the pile, mind you, but my ma is thrilled that someone else loves her stuff as much as she does. I've seen my cousin's garage and it looks a lot like my parents' basement - the two of them couldn't clean out a thimble with a fire hose.
So I get the word second-hand or third-hand, maybe tweeted to me by a migrating European swallow passing over my house, that my cousin wants to sleep at my parents' small apartment and also wants to save some money by using my parents' car. I don't want to put words in someone else's mouth - or at least I want to do it in a way that seems like I'm not doing it so I don't get blamed for doing it - but my folks didn't want me to stay there and they didn't want me to use their car, and I'm their son, black sheep though I may be, but I'm still pretty sure what their stance about anyone else using their car is. My ma actually threw up a polite defense, saying that they didn't have an extra bed anymore, but my cousin parried this thrust by saying that they'd sleep on the floor. I could hear my father moan from 2500 miles away - my cousins are extreme extroverts and dad doesn't like being around anyone so this had the makings of a match in a fireworks factory.
And what should I do? Tell my cousin to back off, politely, sticking my nose where it very well may not be wanted? Call ma and ask her if I should intercede, almost certainly breaking one of her cardinal rules - speaketh thou not ill-will-ly of thine relatives? I want to be an advocate for someone if I can but I also need to be careful that I'm not thrusting my nose directly into a parry of some sort.
And . . . the entire thing worked out just fine with absolutely NO interference on my part.
Howabouthat? The world didn't need me in control.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Big Sale!
Girding up one's loins: Refers to the need to strap a belt around one's waist when getting up to avoid one's cloak falling off.
I've been pursuing the idea that I should do the work and leave the results up to my Higher Power for so long that it isn't funny, which leads me to ask this question (Ed. Note: said question directed to my own damn self): why don't I actually try to practice the concept? This leads me further down the concept rat hole: why am I so surprised that it works so well when I do occasionally, in spite of myself, actually practice said concept?
Here was my yesterday: SuperK and I girded up our loins to visit a local retail establishment. A few days earlier we had placed a product on hold to take advantage of a sale that was expiring that very day. The counter guy put the hold on an incorrect product, potentially costing me some damn money, and he offered to remedy this by discounting something or the other else. I added up the two numbers and saw in a damn hurry that his solution, fixing his mistake, was going to cost me some damn money. I girded up my loins with some heavy-duty girding material, certain that I was going to have to go to war, eager for the conflict.
(Ed. Note: When we go out into public together to talk to other . . . you know . . . people, I rarely get to talk - there aren't many prohibitions existent in our house that one of us has levied on the other, but me talking to other people in the presence of my wife is one of them).
Strolling into the store we immediately see that one of the two products that made the final cut (the runner-up, the bridesmaid, the second place trophy winner) was writhing in the throes of an incredible sale. We knew it was a good sale because the counter guy tried to talk us into buying the less expensive product, a product that we liked as well at the big winner which we chose, frankly, because it isn't all that damn important to us and we didn't want to be one of those weird couples who spend half a lifetime agonizing over something that they eventually hate, anyway.
Should I mention that the amount of money that we saved was far, far greater than the original sales price?
No, I didn't think I should mention that.
I've been pursuing the idea that I should do the work and leave the results up to my Higher Power for so long that it isn't funny, which leads me to ask this question (Ed. Note: said question directed to my own damn self): why don't I actually try to practice the concept? This leads me further down the concept rat hole: why am I so surprised that it works so well when I do occasionally, in spite of myself, actually practice said concept?
Here was my yesterday: SuperK and I girded up our loins to visit a local retail establishment. A few days earlier we had placed a product on hold to take advantage of a sale that was expiring that very day. The counter guy put the hold on an incorrect product, potentially costing me some damn money, and he offered to remedy this by discounting something or the other else. I added up the two numbers and saw in a damn hurry that his solution, fixing his mistake, was going to cost me some damn money. I girded up my loins with some heavy-duty girding material, certain that I was going to have to go to war, eager for the conflict.
(Ed. Note: When we go out into public together to talk to other . . . you know . . . people, I rarely get to talk - there aren't many prohibitions existent in our house that one of us has levied on the other, but me talking to other people in the presence of my wife is one of them).
Strolling into the store we immediately see that one of the two products that made the final cut (the runner-up, the bridesmaid, the second place trophy winner) was writhing in the throes of an incredible sale. We knew it was a good sale because the counter guy tried to talk us into buying the less expensive product, a product that we liked as well at the big winner which we chose, frankly, because it isn't all that damn important to us and we didn't want to be one of those weird couples who spend half a lifetime agonizing over something that they eventually hate, anyway.
Should I mention that the amount of money that we saved was far, far greater than the original sales price?
No, I didn't think I should mention that.
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