The Big Divide

 I have a tendency to go big or to not go at all as befits a man of extremes yet here I sit in a Program that preaches moderation as a virtue of sorts.  It teaches me that I have a responsibility to move forward while being mindful of red lights and stop signs and brick walls.  I would wallow in self-pitying lethargy and then drive full speed off a bridge, ignoring the signs that said that the road ended and there was no bridge anyway.  I'm a lot better at doing things than sitting quietly, trying to read the signs and hear the small, still voices that tell me what I should I do.  I'm a man with a lot of screaming, shrieking maniacs in my head.  It's not easy to hear the wisdom found in whispers over that cacophony.

I've always wanted to live in Europe.  I'm grateful of the advantages my upbringing afforded me but I'm a restless man, too, and I like to take chances and have adventures and see new things.  Up to this point I've satisfied those urges by visiting places on vacation.  Recently we've taken two pretty long trips to two of our favorite places and found that we really, really enjoyed it, to the point of not wanting to come home.  In the past at the end of a long trip I was ready for the end but not on these two trips.  There are a variety of reasons for this and while I think it's better to run towards something I like and not away from something I don't here in The States we're pretty divided and I feel that this division has seeped into the rooms.  We're congregating with like-minded people more and more, to the detriment of the recovery community.  

This is all personal speculation, of course.  A lot of people don't see anything wrong and a lot more choose to ignore these tensions.  People who obviously do a better job of practicing tolerance and patience than I do.  Anyway, the point of this screed is that when I was in Europe - in rural Europe - I had no access to in-person meetings and for the first time in my life I didn't miss them.  So often today I feel the strain of our political divided - real or imagined - and chafe at the homeless people who have found a cookie-coffee home in our overly generous community.  But not this time.  It was relaxing not being in a contentious environment.

Roller Coaster High

 Was today an ordinary day, one filled with the usual events, the same people, the same routine?  If nothing unusual or out-of-the-ordinary happened, are we now feeling a little ho-hum about the day's predictable pattern?

Before we came into The Program, our lives were like roller coaster rides.  We'd either be on a downward plunge or an upward lift of ecstasy.  We kept going from high to high and calling our highs happiness.  Today our lives aren't so dramatic nor filled with such radical swings.  Because we can't equate our happiness with those highs, we are often uncomfortable with feelings that don't include ecstasy or depression.  Today we feel contentment, cheerfulness, and peace.  I complained to a sponsor once about being bored and he said: "I think you're confusing serenity with boredom."

I've always said that I wanted every day to be Friday night - before a week of vacation - and I had six beers under my belt and I was tripping and I was right at the top of the first big hill on the baddest roller coaster in the land, everything in sync, everything working, the drugs and alcohol holding off, overwhelming the inevitable anxiety and fear for a little while, just a little while  . . . 

Not the way to live.

Talking About Drinking

 I have a friend here who's been sober for over 40 years and I sometimes wonder how he's accomplished this.  He's a bit of an iconoclast.  He's mostly in the mainstream of standard A.A. thinking until he's not and this I'm fine with.  We're not in the business of telling people what to do and how to do it.  I always say if you're staying sober (and drug free, in my case) and are relatively happy then you should keep doing what you're doing because we can't really improve on that.  Shit, my buddy LSD Tom thinks it's OK to use hallucinogens occasionally and remain sober.  I believe this is nuts but after I did a little research on it I see he's got a point, technically.  He's a good dude and his life is pretty calm and successful so he should keep doing what he's doing.  BTW, his nickname has remained a closely guarded personal secret.

Anyway, my iconoclastic friend says that he's a "recovered" alcoholic.  He thinks we talk about drinking too much and about recovery too little.  "Alcohol is but a symptom" after all.  I get his point - nobody wants to listen to a long drunk-alog where most of the share is about all the excitement and fun that alcohol can provide, especially in the early days of our drinking.  A few times I've left a speaker meeting thinking: "Whew, that sounded pretty good - why did I quit drinking again?"  But new people need to get some of the tragedy that alcoholic drinking causes off their chest.  The important thing is for those of us with some time to bring the sharing back around to the solution.

I think of my time in Chicago early on where virtually every meeting started with the leader giving a short talk on that evening's Step.  A commitment lasted 12 weeks so that the group methodically went through The Steps, one by one, in order, not jumping ahead or skipping over anything distasteful, only moving forward when the Step was thoroughly done.  It was very frustrating for a new guy who wanted to talk about his PROBLEMS!  I had to pay attention to the discussion so that I could find a way to work my problem into the mix.

Solution, my ass.

Honest Abe

 "And this, too, shall pass away." How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction! "And this, too shall pass."         Abraham Lincoln

Sorry, guys, but we didn't come up with this.

When I was at the end of my drinking I had a 1966 Plymouth Belvedere station wagon that my grandpa gave me.  It ran great unless it was cold or hot or you hadn't driven it in the last six or seven hours and you could forget about it if was raining or damp in any way, shape, or form, because the engine would die if it wasn't getting any gas so whenever I came up to a stop light I'd have to do this tricky thing where I'd shift the car into neutral and rev the accelerator with my right foot while putting on the brake with my left foot.  It didn't have a radio and there were no dashboard vents so heat would only come out around your feet.  Air conditioning?  Yes, the switch was right next to the controls that made the car fly.  

I'm grateful every morning when I get into my car.

In the meeting yesterday we talked about feeling good in the morning.  When I was drinking the concept of "feeling good" and "morning" was what is called an oxymoron.  Examples of this disconnect are a "smart idiot" or a "tiny giant."  They are mutually exclusive.

If you had asked me right before I got sober why I wanted to quit drinking and to keep the reason to one sentence I would have said: "I want my mind to stop for a couple of minutes."  I'm always so amazed when my mind is quiet.  This happens often today as opposed to never when I was running and gunning.  Our minds are made to think and that's what they're going to do so I'm not overly surprised when the thing takes off on its own but it is so pleasant to not be held captive by a racing, catastrophizing head.

One Day At A Time

 "I believe that fundamentally all is well. I will not try to plan too far ahead. I know that the way will unfold, step by step. I will leave tomorrow's burden to tomorrow. You are so made that you can only carry the weight of twenty-four hours, no more. If you weigh yourself down with the years behind and the days ahead, your back breaks. God has promised to help you with the burdens of the day only. If you are foolish enough to gather again that burden of the past and carry it, then indeed you cannot expect God to help."

If there is a more fundamental premise in Alcoholics Anonymous than One Day At A Time I don't know what it is. The idea of being In The Moment can be found in every spiritual practice that I've ever run into. It's the reason Buddhist's concentrate on the breath when they meditate - the breath is right there, right there, and because everyone has to do it to live it's a connection you share with every living animal.

We're so hard on ourselves that I've never been able to holler at anyone in AA, no matter how ridiculous and self-destructive their behavior is. I figure the person I'm interacting with has been beating the shit out of him/herself for so long and with such intensity that my piling on won't be helpful. I'm not saying we all don't need to be contradicted from time to time but I sure try to do it with compassion and understanding.

Normal

 Letting go doesn't mean releasing our grip on life and falling into the abyss below.  Letting go is a slow process of easing the grip on some facet of our lives: alcohol, drugs, an obsession, a character defect, or negative feelings toward some asshole who bugs the shit out of us.

I try to follow my conscience slowly, carefully.  I can't resolve that today I'm just going to simply eliminate a character defect or an obsession or a resentment.  I can prepare to let go.  Just slowly let go.  Prepare myself to gently let go.

"We're living through a discontinuity which is a moment where the experience and expertise you've built up over time cease to work.  It is extremely stressful, emotionally, to go through a process of understanding the world as we thought it was, is no longer there.  (No kidding.)  There's real grief and loss.  There's the shock that comes with recognizing that you are unprepared for what has already happened."

The whole premise of trying to make my life "normal" again is a broken premise.  It's a mistake.  It leaves me trapped inhabitants of someone else's broken world.

Givers and Takers

 "The world is composed of givers and takers.  The takers eat better but the givers sleep better."

There's a homeless situation in my town - the weather is nice which attracts people, I believe, and housing is really expensive which often tosses even people who are working outside.  I'm often approached and asked for pocket change.  Sometimes I give money but sometimes I don't.  A 40ish dude with a backpack and a guitar approached me as I was filling my car with gas yesterday.  I opened my wallet but only had twenties.  "Man, I could sure use a twenty," he said.  I shrugged my shoulders -whadda ya gonna do? -  reflected, motioned the guy over, told him I'd buy a Pepsi to get some change.  I asked him what his deal was as we walked over to the shop: got a dui which cost him his job, got behind on rent and utilities and alimony, outside he went.  He wasn't bullshitting me. I have an acute bullshit radar.  There's a really nice guy who has been coming to our morning AA meeting for a couple of months who - while waiting for subsidized senior housing - is sleeping outside.  Refuses to go to a homeless shelter, adamant that it's safer to sleep on concrete.  I gave him $20 one day, unbidden.  I saw him the next day  . . . . with a cup of Starbucks.  Haven't seen him since.  He wasn't bullshitting me, either - his odor told me that.  When I walk on the beach I'm frequently hustled on the way down by a guy who's standing outside a liquor store.  "Dude," I said one morning.  "Don't stand right here.  Jesus.  At lease pretend you aren't going to go right in and buy beer."

There are signs in our downtown area telling people to give money to local social services and not to panhandlers.  If everyone passes out money then the homeless will be attracted.  But there are some people who simply will not avail themselves of temporary housing.  Some are obstinate, like my AA friend, and some are too mentally ill or addicted or damaged to take that step.  I often give money.  I often give the occasional outrageous tips to the kids who staff the shops I frequent, and these are outrageous for these kids and not for me.  I feel better, somehow relieved when I do this.  

Willie and I were talking about an oldtimer at his meeting who approached him in the parking lot afterwards and asked for money.  Willie offered to follow him to the local Wal-Mart to just buy the burner phone he needed.  "Bill, I don't have a car," the guy said.  Willie gave him the money.  Willie has no expectations of getting the money back.  We agree that the rule of thumb is that money dispensed is a gift and not a loan.  We often talk about the spiritual principle that the more you hold onto some physical "thing" the more power it has over you, aware that it's easier to give a thing up if you're living in abundance, like we are.

Giver.  At times.  And happier for it.