It is December and it has been one hell of a week so far. There is much to say, and there has been plenty of opportunity to speak words, or better yet, write them down. Tonight is that night.
Tuesday was December 1st, World AIDS Day. The yearly date when we honor all those who have died, and for those of us who survived that period of tragic times, we remember.
A particular story came to mind on Tuesday, that I thought about writing down “Again” but decided against it. Suffice to say that those of us who were diagnosed with AIDS or today, HIV, we go from Hero to Zero in no time flat.
Back in the day, AIDS was a death sentence. Today they call it a “manageable condition!” Every new diagnosis under ANY circumstances is very sad.
You would think, in today’s gay community, and for that matter, anywhere in the world, that an ounce of prevention would go a long way, yet there are those who continually decide to play Russian Roulette with their lives. Or are caught up in behavior that is detrimental.
One cannot claim ignorance about disease today.
There are still millions of reasons why we can’t stop marking this day, until a cure is found, that would be available to every single human being, to eradicate this scourge.
**** **** ****
Once again, now in the U.S., two deranged killers walked into a service center, and killed 14 people in cold blood, and injured many others.
This is just terrible. And there are not enough words to say that is going to make a hill of beans difference, to those who could do something, but they don’t. There aren’t enough prayers to be said, or vigils to attend that are going to change anything.
Sometimes it is well and good to just not say anything, because someone already has said what we are all thinking, and we are powerless to do a god damned thing.
**** **** ****
Sometime last weekend, I did something to my back. I am not sure what it was, or when it happened, but I have never felt the degree of pain I am feeling today, in all my life. My back is killing me, and I have resorted to taking pain killers just to be ambulatory.
Addicts and painkillers are not a good mix.
At least here, I can phone up my pharmacy and get over the counter medication. In many Canadian pharmacies, they keep assorted drugs behind the counter, so if you know this, that opens up treatment. I don’t need a script nor do I need to see my doctor, but I will see him on the tenth, if I survive that long …
This afternoon baby mama came over to use my computer and as we sat together, she remarked that etched on my face was the look of pain. I can sit down, but there is no guarantee that I will be able to get back up. During our visit, I had several Holy Shit, moments, where I thought I was going to pass out.
I have only so many pills left, before I need a doctors note, and it is the weekend, so no doctor till next week now. And I sure as shit ain’t going to no E.R. because I will sit there for hours and hours, um NO!
It has been rainy / cold the past few days. Rain, that falls in conjunction with below zero temps, means ice on sidewalks.
I half thought to stay home tonight, but decided to go to St. Matthias and hit a meeting. I left earlier than usual, because walking, reaching, bending and stooping is quite the task, which requires some serious deep breathing and equilibrium.
I got to the church and visited with friends before the meeting, and as a friend sat next to me, I had a Holy Shit moment, and I told her that if I sit down, for any amount of time, that I may not be able to get back up.
I waited until the seventh tradition was started and tried to get up, gritting my teeth, because I had to pee … That was a tedious moment for sure. I did get up, but it wasn’t pleasant.
It was a good meeting, nonetheless.
I was talking to my sponsor and a few friends on Tuesday night, and I was explaining that I was riding that “roller coaster of insanity” and what was going on in my head and they responded with, “yup, you are one of us …”
We pushed my cake back until the 20th, because next Sunday is early, and my anniversary falls on Wednesday the 9th. And superstition dictates that you never take a medallion early.
The 13th, is my sponsors Home Group Anniversary on the West End at Loyola. So He will be there, while I do service at my Sunday Home Group. Which leaves the 20th as the first Sunday we can both be in the same place at the same time.
What is good about living in Canada, is this … When shit goes down anywhere else, the media goes crazy. And for the most part, for what it is worth, Most shit going down elsewhere, has nothing to do with us, and when necessary, which is often, I can either turn the channel, shut down my computer, or turn the tv off …
There is so much tragedy. I can only take so much saturation about death and destruction, not to mention, Republican Presidential hopefuls.
I have little patience for crock of shit politics.
Thank God for cable t.v.
More to come, stay tuned …
It is Sunday, and this new interface is called “Calypso,” and I don’t like it at all. It is very wonky, and all JAVA, and is supposed to be better than sliced bread … Um, NO !
I want my old post editor back. Much more user friendly.
It is on the cold side, the past two nights. We saw flurries fall a couple of times today, but there is NO snow in the forecast in the next week.
It was an odd weekend. I saw the baby the other night, and she was sniffling and coughing. On Friday morning at approximately 5 a.m. i was hugging the bowl, sick as a dog for twelve hours.
I find that I am so thirsty for anything to drink, and I went to the store twice and spent $30.00 on drinkables, yet I could not quench that thirst, it was insane, not that I kept anything down enough to enjoy it. Hubby brought me meds after work, and I took them and was able to sleep until almost 11 p.m. because I was up so early and did not sleep all day long.
I had the funkiest dream … I was stuck in this warehouse of 70’s and 80’s stuff, like video games, toys and it got crazy when I was sitting in an old style Burger King, playing with toys and food. It just kept getting odder and odder, and it was never ending. Back in the day, I had specific toys, and things I liked. Roller skates, and Solid Gold on tv. It was just odd because I’ve never had visuals like this before.
Saturday, I had things to do, and responsibilities that I had to be present for, so there was no time to lay in bed and feel sick or sorry for myself. I had back to back meetings in another fellowship I belong to. During our two hour break between them, I had dinner with friends, down line, and we watched some John Oliver on You Tube.
We’ve been talking about rigorous honesty of late. It is funny, that the one section of my life that I wanted to forget and never talk about or mention to anyone, has become my greatest teacher, and brought me into the lives of men who have changed my life.
This morning, well, for a while now, I’ve been riding my pre-cake roller coaster, that 30 day period that comes before you take your anniversary cake, when your brain goes on overdrive, and one begins to obsess over needless and useless shit.
But this morning, I needed a brain drain, so I got up and opened a word document, and wrote my script for my share on my anniversary next Sunday. I had very specific things to say, so I wrote them down, so I would not fuck it up. It is going to be explosive.
Tonight we sat only a small number. Lots of people still out sick, and we did not empty the coffee urn once again. wasted coffee…
It was Tradition Night, and the eleventh month, means the eleventh tradition. Attraction rather than promotion. That topic of anonymity came up but not many people spoke towards it.
What I did have to say was that the first time I got sober, the room I was in was very nasty and not attractive at all, but that’s where I could hit a meeting, however harsh my peers were towards newcomers. That shitty experience, only added to my alienation from the program and my eventual slip. I had come in contact with enough assholes and homophobes that I was totally turned off with participation and sobriety.
The second time I came in, it was a whole other story. The right people showed up at the right moment, and were very good for me. And when I moved to Montreal, (read: No cell phones yet), I met great people who were attractive in many ways. They took me in and took care of me, and spent time with me, so I was not alone.
I remember one really fun memory… My sponsor at the time, Dave, took me to the mountain in the middle of the night, to climb.
There is a mountain in the middle of the city. There is a trail you can walk, up and down. But on this night, he said that we were going to climb to the top, up the side, and not use the trails. It was odd, but very fun. That was just one of the many attractive things that I did in early sobriety. The other was a few months in, 4 alcoholics climbed into a Toyota and drove all the way from Montreal to Nova Scotia on the Atlantic coast for some meetings, and a whale watching tour. That was 17 hours each way. It was fun but a bit irresponsible.
It was a good night. More to come, stay tuned…
Things have been getting strange all over the city. It it either the season, or there is something in the water, or simply, sober folks are just throwing in the towel, much to the surprise of the rest of us.
Last week, my sponsor was out and about and two long standing members approached him in a restaurant. They were visibly intoxicated, or on some heavy drugs, because they were incoherent and could hardly speak words.
Here at my building …
I know several of my neighbors, because we’ve spoken or for some, I know them from the rooms. There is the parting glance in the elevator, but usually, no words have been spoken either way, outside of a meeting.
That all changed last night.
It was midnight, and I was talking to a sponsee on the phone, and my neighbor friend (read: From the Rooms) was banging on my door.
Let us set the tone for the story here …
If you have ever seen “The Beach” with Leonardo DeCaprio when the film opens and he is having a conversation with Daffy from room to room, while they share a joint, the lights are flashing and the guns are firing, Daffy is having a complete psychotic breakdown before he kills himself.
My friend was always soft spoken, and he never spoke an ill word to anyone in all the years that I have known him. He was freaking out and was totally out of character.
My friend was having a complete psychotic breakdown. He was bandaged up his arm and he was freaking out, like he was on something narcotic or he was tripping on something, liek I said, totally out of character for him.
He was sweating and flushed, shaking and almost incoherent. He lives a few floors down from me. He kept telling me he needed help and that I had to come now … well I hung up the phone and set off with my keys and no shoes.
Our elevators have video surveillance, and he says to me, we can’t take the elevator because someone is watching him, (read: nobody is monitoring the feed at midnight) so we take the stairs. We get to his apartment and he is camped out in the hallway, with a 12 pack of soda and his bike and all his things.
He begins to weave me a story, of what happened the night before, and begins telling me shit that I should probably not have heard, but he was speaking to me so I listened. I then asked him for his keys because he was locked out of his apartment, he says to me that someone has welded the door shut and he could not get in.
His keys were broken and bent, like they had been forced to turn in a lock further than needed and the keys bent and were unusable. So I thought, I’ll go downstairs and get the super to come open his door.
He is screaming that we can’t take the elevator, again …
11 flights of stairs later, we get to the ground floor, we wake the super, he had taken out his teeth, was in his slippers, and had been drinking, because he stank of beer. UGH !
We got him back upstairs, by the elevator going up, and figured out that the door had NOT been welded shut, that something happened to his keys, we left him in the hallway, while we searched his apartment for vandals or someone who was not authorized to be in there. It was a hoarders nightmare.
We got him into his apartment and I came home.
This morning I got up early and went down to talk to our manager, who is a friend. It seems this psychotic behavior has been going on for a while, because his neighbors on that floor are concerned for their safety, and that the cops indeed were here the previous night, and that this morning he was sitting in the hallway stark raving mad and naked…
Like I said, there must be something in the water, or people have just gone off the deep end.
Tomorrow I need to follow up on this mornings conversation.
He had never been up to this apartment, and I never told him in what unit I lived in before, but in his hour of need last night, he knew where to find me. He came upstairs instead of going to someone else. Not sure why he made that decision, but to think, that I am sober and could have helped him in some way.
Fucking Daffy Duck, Place of birth, Never Never Land …
There is a lot of confidential talking going on and I am doing my best to be present and accountable for my friends. Suffice to say that dead beat dads are a dime a dozen, and trying to get them to pay up their fair share is problematic. And that has been the challenge lately for a friend.
You can either do it voluntarily, or we take you to the cleaners…
It’s your choice buddy !
More to come, stay tuned…
This is the park we were standing in late last night on the way home, and Rafa clicked this photograph with his phone. It has been filtered and treated to get to this image.
It is exactly what we saw in real time.
I met with Rafa this evening for round three of the outline review. And once again, he had plenty of food for thought. He is a classicist and is well read on a great amount of classical literature, which makes him a perfect mentor for my project.
In pondering my theme of “Canada” from the book, this week, he introduced the concept of
“Nostos” or homecoming to me and that it might apply to my story as it has unfolded for him.
The story opens with a God moment, and as the story unfolds, Canada becomes part of my story, but for almost the whole outline, Canada does not appear until I cross the border into Canada.
I was directed to the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, but no “nostos.” I went to the Oxford dictionary and got the word “homecoming.” Then I thought of Wikipedia, now I know, as an academic, that Wikipedia is never used as a credible source nor should you ever cite or use a wiki entry, on any paper. But this is what they had to say about “NOSTOS.”
Nostos (Greek: νόστος) (pl. nostoi) is the Greek word for homecoming, the idea of returning home from a long journey. Nostos can also mean “Welcome Home” in the Greek language. Nostos is a theme dealt with in many Homeric writings such as the Odyssey, in which the main character, Odysseus, strives to get home after the Trojan War. The plural term nostoi is applied to Greek heroes’ homeward journeys after the taking of Troy and is the name of one of the poems of the Epic Cycle on that theme.
God is there, in my life, I am introduced to Him and He to me. The God thread runs throughout my life, and at one point, I am in seminary, then I am summarily dismissed from that seminary when my concept and practice of faith does not meet muster with my superiors.
And I walk off the grounds and look to heaven and say …”Hey God, don’t you know who I am?” “Do I matter or what, and why am I standing here outside the gates, when I should still be standing inside of them, and I am not, WHY?
I have read “The Odyssey” by Homer as a student, and later in life, saw a television movie of the same book. Tonight, Rafa gave me his copy to read, “The Odyssey of Homer by Richmond Lattimore. I am told, this translation is the best one to read.
Why are you reading the Odyssey? you might ask.
My story is a story of “homecoming.” Beginning in one place, and as a child, I am taken on a journey by my parents. I grow up, go to college and seminary, where my personal odyssey begins.
I say my personal odyssey, because I chose what I was going to do it, I was not led or taken anywhere by anyone else, like my parents, growing up as a child.
I travel from one “island” to another “island.” I am adrift at sea a number of times, and then end up on other islands, and the final move is to “ITHACA.” My story, not unlike Odysseus’ journey to return home to Ithaca, takes a long time, on a winding path, from one place to another, to this person and the next, but it seems, for a while, I may never get there, until a fortuitous letter comes in the mail, with an invitation to come HOME.
But the journey is not complete for Odysseus, he just doesn’t return and become king or get the title or his wife, and all that was his, he has to work his way back, one step at a time, and we talked of other books, that we do not have, the book that comes before the Odyssey, and the one that comes after the Odyssey, telling us what happens to Odysseus after he returns to Ithaca.
When I get here, to Montreal, there is still work to do. I just don’t win the prize, having freshly walked over the border. And in the end there is a penance that I must do.
At one point in my story, I meet a priest who is crippled by M.S. and he becomes my spiritual director. And in telling Rafa this story again tonight, he likens me to a “crippled preacher (read: recovering alcoholic), who must travel and share his message with others,” like Odysseus carries an OAR into/onto the land far from the sea, to share his message, until he reaches a place where nobody has ever seen the sea or know what an OAR is.
My life is an Odyssey, and in the end, I get to return to Ithaca and I am finally restored to who I am and to whom I am to become, something that was rightfully mine as a child, but taken away, and as the story unfolds, I am sailing and traveling endlessly, until I reach Ithaca.
I get to Canada, and I inherit all that is mine to have, passed down from my family, but it takes time to learn just what those things are, what they mean, and why they are important.
So my task now, it to rewrite my outline. I need to gather my stories in the form of “Islands and Time at Sea.” Each episode is a visit to some place, to meet someone or learn something. I am reminded to use literary economy, and use as little words as are necessary to tell my story. And if what I am writing is not relevant to the story, to just leave it out.
I need to thread all the stories together, which is why I am reading the book now, before I start writing, to see how it is written, what words are used and why and what they mean.
Read the Book, work on the outline. I have two weeks to complete this round.
Which is why tonight, I begin my read of the Odyssey.
Courtesy: Split Minded
It is Very Scary out tonight. People are invoking the memory of the Great Quebec Ice Storm. And tonight, it is looking very likely that conditions are going to go from bad to worse over the next forty eight hours.
We are sitting at (1c) at this hour. But let’s go back a couple of days.
Friday night it was cold, a little too cold. But we all traveled to the meeting. It was a mega packed house. Everybody is back from coming and going. Almost all of our youth stayed sober over the holidays, save for a couple.
The lesson here: Family is a good thing, in small doses, when we are in early sobriety. Not having an out or a meeting to get to is fuel for the fire. Spending too much time with your family can really fuck up ones sobriety, as was proven by some of our folks.
The government website, and tv people and everyone else has been waving the “WARNING” flag for the last week, warning us that a storm was coming. We expected snow to fall all day Saturday and we would then have a ton of snow on the ground.
Snowfall did not start until around 6 p.m. Saturday evening, and it snowed into the night, with just enough snow to create havoc on streets and sidewalks. I had shopped like a madman so I wouldn’t have to go out unless it was an emergency, because they warned us a BIG storm was coming.
Well, it never came.
Saturday night came, it was snowy and very cold.
Early in the evening we got a call from my in laws, hubby’s grandmother, his father’s Mother, had died early in the evening. She had Alzheimer’s for many years. In reality, she left the building ten years ago, when she lost her ability to remember us. She was in an assisted lock down care facility, because she was a wanderer. Several times in years prior, she found ways out of the home in the dead of winter on several occasions, and it was good thing that she didn’t get killed or freeze to death wandering around Ottawa in her nighty.
She ended up in palliative care last week, and in the end, they doped her up to make her comfortable. Once you introduce sedatives, morphine or dilauded to the mix, death is not far away. Nana gave up her body after years of being absent to her body. A sad end in any case.
So that happened early Saturday night.
Somebody was on a plow late Saturday night a few blocks from us East, and they hit a gas main, and it exploded. Which plunged our section of the city into darkness. The power went out just after 11 p.m. as the news was starting.
When the power goes out, we loose heat, water and electricity, in one swoop ! We were on the Western edge of the blackout. And thanks to text messages we figured out how far to the East the blackout extended.
My neighbors on our floor began to panic. Really, it was the first time I have seen my neighbors all at the same time. Nobody knew what to do because the lights went out. Like the super was going to be able to turn the lights back on just for the asking … um, NO !
We have an emergency generator that operates the elevators in case this situation occurred.
Someone was stuck in the elevator that is not served by the generator. We have two elevators. One gets juice the other does not. We got the car to ride down to the ground floor and those folks got out. And like good frantic people, some had to go out to see what happened.
I was like – it’s almost midnight, It’s freakishly cold out, and you want to go outside and find the damage? WTF ??? Why not stay inside where it is relatively warm and safe ?
I eventually went downstairs to talk to people on the ground floor to see what they knew, and I found a bunch of folks who lived farther east of us, from their dark buildings, sitting in the darkness in our building, hoping to find electricity and when they got here, we were dark too. So they sat in the dark for hours until the power came back on around 1:15 a.m. in the morning.
We decided that there was nothing to do but to sit in the dark and stare at a single candle burning. Just after midnight we went to bed, the heat had been off for a while, and it was starting to get chilly, so I piled extra blankets on the bed and we went to sleep. Only to be woken by the sound of appliances coming back on, the computer, and finally water being pumped up to our floor and to the ones above.
Massive amounts of people all over the city and far and wide went dark since last night, and crews are working double time to get them all reconnected.
I had an appointment with one of my guys early so I was up and ready to go before I needed to go. It had warmed up enough that the snow that fell, melted. Which in turn created standing puddles of water at every intersection. Water, Water Everywhere …
The house of slush and puddles …
I really need a pair of rubber boots. Because even with my winter boots, my socks got wet.
Imagine folks stranded on street corners not knowing how to ford the lakes of water without getting their feet wet, and trying to get around mounds of snow that had been plowed creating these lakes all over the place. The trek out was tedious.
I got a couple of emails from folks who were not going out. So I opened, chaired, collected the kitty and closed the church. My peeps helped out in between.
Step Four was on the table. Lots of good stuff.
I was afraid nobody would show up, because the weather was frightful. The ice and snow that had collected on the roof of the church fell in great bangs to the ground while we were inside. I could not shovel the walkway, because the snow had turned to ice. Everything was covered in ice. I could only shovel the stoop in front of the doors, so people could get inside.
A handful of hearty weather goers showed up. The hardened “In sleet, rain, snow or ice, nothing will keep us from a meeting” crowd.
Temps warmed up, snow is melting, there is ice covering cars, sidewalks, streets, etc …
We will drop to Minus (-10c) by tomorrow, and (-20c) on Tuesday. Anything that is not iced over right now, will be iced over very soon. Then things could get really dicey.
Getting home was a challenge. It took a bit longer than I had expected because of lakes, puddles, ice and snow. Freakish weather. A lot freakier than it was last winter.
It has been a freakish, sad, and tedious weekend to say the least.
More to come, stay tuned …
Courtesy: Billy Pazionis Flickr
I offer you “Thirteen” a retrospective.
In May of 2013, I had been at Tuesday Beginners for eleven years. The New York women came to us and I began to watch them and listen to them. I watched what they did for a while and I longed for that kind of life to come to me.
The end of May came with the West Island Round Up. And I heard Lorna Kelly speak, along with a host of others from New York. And I learned, much to my dismay, that I’d been warming a seat for years, and not really doing anything about it. Comfortable at just being a talking head and showing up and doing service.
One of the men who spoke talked about prayer … I prayed, but not with the intensity or meaning that our man was trying to get across to the people sitting in front of him while he spoke. Three, Seven and Eleven, every day, like you mean it. You have the book, why aren’t you working it?
This is how we do it.
THIS IS HOW WE DO IT !!!
Are you listening??
I faded from my then sponsor and decided to go it alone. It was time. Days, turned into weeks, which turned into months. I changed up my meetings, added the Friday A.B.S.I. meeting, and I was doing the work, praying and being present for my friends.
In the Summer of 2013, I decided to leave Tuesday Beginners, opting for the “other” beginners meeting that was on earlier, because that is where my friends were, or, more to the point, the young men of that I needed in my life and it ended up, this meeting carried me through some tough times. And I gave back to that meeting.
On my 12th anniversary, December 9th 2013, I asked a friend to give me my chip, so it went. Since then, Vendome Beginners moved to the location we are at now, albeit in smaller numbers, we have a committed group of folks who come week in and week out.
There was an old timer there, who had the years, and I was in the market for a new sponsor, in January this year, we went to lunch and he interviewed me for the position. He had a few rules that I must agree to follow. I was supposed to call him every day for a month. I did that. At the end of the month, on the last day, I called him, and he said to me that I did not have to call him anymore. And I was like “What?” But I want to call you every day. That was the answer he was looking for.
It has been close to a year, and I call him every day. He also started me on the journey with the Men’s Intensive Big Book, Steps, Study. We have been working our steps in tandem with each other. My sponsors sponsor, my sponsor, and then myself. I had been doing the work, praying and acting As If.
And God seemed to be pleased because he sent me young men to work with, something my life had lacked for all the years I was sober. They have taught me many things, about themselves, and about myself, and about us.
In May of 2014, he invited me to my first Men’s Intensive Weekend at Mad River Barn, in Vermont. Being the only Queer in the bunch, I told them my stories about getting sober in certain groups. And the fact that people sent me away because I was gay! That changed everything. It was the first weekend where men from other places listened to me and spoke kindness to me. I came home from that weekend with lessons I still use today. I work the same way with my guys, that my sponsor works with me.
The weekend after then Men’s Intensive, it was my hope to share a round up with my guys. It was an ok weekend. The singleness of purpose problem was a barrier for my guys, and they felt left out of the US and segregated to just them and the just us club. But the message was clear from the Atlantic Group.
The Mantra was “THE WORK.”
Since May I have talked about the work, and how that has panned out over the past seven months. In October of 2014, we again returned to Mad River for the Fall Men’s Intensive weekend. Sadly, that would be the last time we visited that Inn. This time around, I was asked to speak. Actually, before I even got home from the Intensive in May, an invitation to speak was waiting for me when I got home. So I had months to prepare. I did not get a notice on what I would be speaking on in any case.
Half our number came for the weekend. People were not pleased with the Inn from the last visit and the price had gone up considerably. Nonetheless, I was the opening presenter for Steps One and Two for the weekend.
I met some of the same men as the first time, but also got to meet several other men who had come for the first time. I had been working my steps, working with my guys, and I talked about that with the guys, a handful of them disagreed with my style and approach, and voiced those opinions.
My Sponsor listened to what I had said and told me to ignore them.What I was doing was working, so don’t get caught up in old men being pissy.
On the way to the Mad River Barn, My sponsor, myself and a friend, took an excursion to East Dorset Vermont to visit Bill’s House, where he was born and was raised. We also visited Bill’s and Lois’s grave with a group of women making an intensive weekend there at the house. It was a life changing event for me, and for all those who were there.
Standing on Bill’s Grave, speaking about recovery, to others present, changed my life. I had the opportunity to visit the man who started it all. Then attend an intensive weekend, and then bring all that home for my guys, my friends, my fellows, the list goes on and on. On the way home from that weekend, we visited the next site of the Men’s Intensive for Spring 2015. A little place called Saint Anne’s Shrine in Vermont. About an hours drive from here.
We have celebrated Thanksgiving and we are coming up on Christmas.
Three seems to be the magic number for me. A few weeks ago, I was introduced to a man who came to our Sunday night meeting, and since. I’ve become his sponsor. You loose one, God gives you another one. They say, when you work with others that, you might find folks to work with, and they might decide that drinking is far more fun, and take leave of you. But when one goes, there is always someone waiting in the wings to take their place. And so that has happened.
The Pre-Cake roller coaster did not take off this year.
There were no massive upheavals, no major issues, no major problems. It has been a slow burn. However, this year, I have not only had myself to work with, but my guys and my sponsor. I’ve really had no down time to think of myself. When the phone rings, it rings, I answer.
It is one thing to be present for your own sobriety, it is totally a different fish, when you are accountable to young men with whom you work with. They call every day. We talk every day, except when life takes precedence. I meet my guys once a week to talk, to read the Book, and to do Step Work. One of my guys moved to the states, this past fall for his M.A. so we Skype every week.
Thank God for technology and sponsorship.
They have totally kept me on my toes and busy with something to do and something new to think about on a daily basis. Working with others is the greatest joy you can have in sobriety. Because it isn’t about me, it’s about them. I’ve truly grown this year, in ways I couldn’t have imagined. All because I have done my work.
Now they do their work.
Continuing the story … This post is a two parter. It is Tuesday and mother nature dropped snow on us today. A little worried about people not coming, my sponsor says … “We went to any length to drink, snow or whatever, people will come, don’t fret!”
Our usual group of folks came. We called New Foundland to talk to one of our women who is up there with her new daughter, and I thought that it would be nice for all of us to talk to her, so we did that. Have phone will chat !!!
We covered the second half of Step twelve. There were lots of laughs and giggles, but it was all business.
So what can I say for sobriety, I am in my steps. My sponsees are in their steps. My sponsor is in his steps. We’ve now heard the steps presented three times in the last year. Twice in an intensive weekend, and once at our meeting for twelve weeks.
This journey to where I am today, started some time ago, and only now can I say, I’ve reaped the rewards of really working my sobriety for all its worth. No roller coaster, no drama. Everything is where it should be and all is well in my world.
It was bittersweet because one of my friends, who was sober, when I FIRST got sober, was here tonight. He got stuck in the revolving door for a long time, and now he is back. He’s got six months. And I think about him a lot. Had he stuck and stayed he would be long sober, longer than I am today, had he stayed. But he didn’t.
I did everything I was told to do. I’ve been blessed to be able to maintain the sober schedule I built thirteen years ago. And I did not deviate from that schedule. Ever. I stayed sober. Many of my friends did not.
What did I do right, and what did they do wrong?
We are all suffering alcoholics. Some got better, some didn’t. At least tonight, all in our number are alive, well and sober.
I am very grateful for all that I have.
Thanks for reading. More to come, stay tuned …
It is a momentous day today. And it was a very productive day today.
I was up very early this morning, with a plan in mind to get many things done early and have the afternoon free to fart around. I made one phone call to make a hair appointment, that I wanted in the morning, because, like I said, I was up already. What I got was a 2 p.m. appointment, which shifted my morning into the afternoon, because I wanted to make one trip and not several.
I thought about going back to bed, but thought better. Today is our tenth wedding anniversary, and I wanted to do something special, since tonight and tomorrow night I am busy.
I trashed an old monitor that’s been sitting in the living room gathering dust. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, since it is electronic, so I dumped it in the basement for the super to take care of. Then I cleaned up the apartment, and decided that I would put the Christmas Tree up.
I un-crated the tree and put it up, and loaded it up with lots of lights. We usually wait until the first snow to put the tree up. And it’s not so much a bother really, so that is a thing…
I went and did my grocery shopping early on.
I had to fill a few hours of time, I usually loathe daytime television. And I am finding that the massive amount of “stupid news” in the news is beginning to get on my nerves. I wish there was another page I could assign as my homepage instead of Yahoo or Bing or BBC. UGH !!!
My take on the news is this … If it ain’t Canadian, It’s not my bother… And most of that shit news is coming from all points south. But the Canadian Yahoo picks up every stupid news story that comes across the wire on any given day.
I mean really, people are being denied marriage rights in the states and with the push of marriage equality coming to South Carolina, we’ve broken into the RED south. And as of a few days ago, Charles Manson, was given a fucking marriage license to marry some tart who is trying to exonerate a killer who is in prison for life, and some say she is “smart???”
Let’s deny marriage rights to gays, yet let’s give a murderer a marriage license !!!
The world is seriously coming to an end me thinks …
I got prepped to go early, I really did not have a plan in mind, besides getting my hair cut. So I headed out to the mall with plenty of time. My favorite card store was having a sale on Christmas Cards, and I needed a card for hubby, so that was stop one. This year I was smart, I bought regular sized cards, and not those micro cards that aren’t mailable.
I saw a commercial on tv for this great little griller from T-Fal. It would make a great little Christmas present. So stop two was Canadian Tire. I was terribly disappointed to see that that little gift was running a whopping $300.00 !!! Certainly out of my price range.
I went and looked at decorations, like we need more? We have a huge box of baubles that we have collected over the years and we really don’t have any extra room for another storage box for more baubles.
I went and had some lunch. My one guilty pleasure, fatty, fast food. It was good !!!
Finally I made my hair appointment. It was pretty cut and dry. High and tight, just like Papi !!!
I’ve seen many variations on this haircut, and it seems to be the most popular cut as of late.
I made my way home with a couple hours to waste before my evening departure.
When the sun went down, the temp’s plummeted. But it wasn’t as cold, early on, as it was on the way home. They have rerouted sidewalk traffic up the block, because workers have dug up the entire walkway in front of the Forum, and they created a pedestrian lane counter traffic with big cement barricades.
I got to the church. There is a nice blanket of snow on the yard. I am sure this will be a good first layer of snow, that will now pile up over the winter. The shrubbery by the main door is covered in snow.
We sat a small group. And the writing is on the wall. We won’t be going into December. I now have both keys, to turn in for their deposits, $25.00 a head. And I am slowly redirecting supplies to other meetings, since others can use them so we don’t have to bring them home and store them.
We don’t have very much in the way of supplies, but we do have a $65.00 coffee urn that will go into storage. And the literature as well. I might just donate it to the other house meetings. They will go to good use.
We talked about self acceptance, which lead back around to page 417.
Acceptance is the KEY to ALL my problems.
It was a nice little discussion. We walked home, and it was bitter.
**** **** ****
So monumental day today… Ten years ago today, hubby and I were married in front of family and friends, at the Loyola Chapel on the Loyola Campus of Concordia University. It was the most responsible decision I have ever made in my life. We made a good choice. Marriage is a good thing.
I don’t see why some people in America can’t support marriage equality for every one. But like I said above, it ain’t Canadian, so why bother? Another great reason I left the U.S. when I did, because I have certainly more rights and privileges and a better life than had I stayed down there.
Life is beautiful, Marriage is beautiful. Family is beautiful. I could not have asked for more.
That was the day as it happened.
More to come, stay tuned …
It was a quiet week. Lots of meetings. Lots of reading. We hit Step Six on Tuesday, and Thursday we read from Came to Believe, and Friday’s topic was on the subject of financial insecurity. I listened carefully to our readings, and came away with some lessons.
It was a blustery weekend, like I said, a little rain, a lot of clouds, and today I broke out my winter jacket for the first time this season. Over the weekend, I crated the a.c. for the second time. And we probably won’t need it again, as the long term forecast says that temps won’t rise into positive double digits again any time soon.
The weather usually goes North just before Halloween. In years past, we have seen negative digits, and even snow on the odd occasion. We know that if it does snow before or on Halloween, that it will be a long and drawn out Winter. The kids will be bundled up in winter coats with their costumes again this year.
There is a load of construction going on in the neighborhood lately. They dug up the sidewalk in front of the Forum just up the block, and are replacing piping in the ground, which has caused a nightmare for pedestrians and the frontage shops in the Forum proper. All the terraces are rolled up because there is no place for them to be aside from the construction.
Cabot Square is coming along ever so slowly. They have yet to complete the bus lane ways that need to be finished before the first snow. And they need to sort out the bus stops for the same reason.
I was up and ready to go early today and arrived and cranked out set up before most folks showed up. We have been seeing good numbers lately, which bodes well for the future. Tonight we sat a full house again, and are one story closer to the end of the book. November 16th is our deadline.
This last section of the book, are stories that range from a few pages to a lot of pages. What else is there to talk about when you are in low bottom territory but I drank, I got drunk, I fell down, having suffered yet another black out and waking up who knows where, how much money did I loose, and what did I do last night? Tonight’s story was quick, dirty and to the point, in five pages.
I listed to the read and followed along, because I was in the chair. We got all the way around twice, once for the read, and second for the discussion. Stories like these are warnings to our young people that it can get bad, very quickly, and in short order. Some of them have already been to these places, And most of our long time members have also visited these places.
I stopped to think about my story, and I realized that at the start of my drinking career I did all those stupid things first. All those activities written about that usually occur at the bitter end, when the drink is really bad, and the obsession is running rampant.
I guess I am glad that I had completed my list of really stupid things first. That speaks volumes to the depth of addiction I had fallen into so quickly, early on. I could not care less about responsibility, paying rent, buying food, making car payments. My vision was very narrow. All I really cared about was where my next drink was coming from, and who would participate in its attainment.
It was also very good that I only had a car for a few years in my twenties. I lost it once to repossession, and my father got it back. That was probably, and still is, in my estimation, a very real resentment my father has against me. He never did anything that stupid, not that I ever knew about. But it is what it is.
Once I had hit my last stop in Ft. Lauderdale, in my 26th year, I lost the car again to flood waters, caused by a hurricane. The car was never the same after that, and I finally had gotten rid of it. I am sure it could have gotten very worse, as I grew up. But I sort of nipped that one in the bud when I got sober the first time. Who needs a car, when you live in the big city. After that round, I stayed close, I have lived in big cities ever since. I don’t need a car here because mass transit is so plentiful.
All those things that happen at the end of ones drinking career that signal that the end is near and that maybe you should stop happened to me. But in reverse order. I had hit rock bottom several times early on but did not get the memo for a while. I just kept going, until, like I have said before, another human being said the word S.T.O.P …
It could have gone on to the bitter end, and that’s how I wanted it, I wasn’t ready to die a gruesome death, I would rather have died from the bottle rather than a terrible disease. That was not to happen.
I would face my challenge sober, and I would, in the end, prevail.
I’ll say it again. When I really needed God, He presented himself to me and saved my life. And I will take that to my grave.
The other identifying factor from most low bottom stories are the drinking bouts that end up in a black out. The Not Knowing. At the end of my slip, I had perfected my drinking to one night a week, because that’s all I could handle. One great night of debauchery.
Trying to fit in, by drinking my way in.
And in the end the night ended with someone pouring my sodden body into a taxi, and finding myself in my bed, having gotten through two locked doors, never knowing how that happened.
To this day, I cannot tell you the who, where, what or why of my black outs.
Either someone removed me by force, or someone was watching out for me without my knowledge. I don’t know, but that is one memory that keeps it green for me. The black outs, that final hangover, the admission that I was licked. The alcoholic who appeared because I asked God for one to appear.
My last drink, was my last drink. So far. To this day. One day at a time.
I’ve seen enough in my lifetime, and over the last almost thirteen years, I have heard stories from my friends and fellows that remind me over and over of just how bad it will get if I ever pick up another drink.
It doesn’t have to get that bad.
There is a solution. The women I know work very hard at working and living in the Solution.
I learned how they do it, and now my guys are doing that as well. By The Book.
**** **** ****
And on an entirely different note…
Here it comes … Are you ready?
There are 67 shopping days until Christmas
More to come Stay tuned …
Do you ever have a moment like this, when you did something and you should have done something else, and grabbed your head and went “UGH!!!”
They say, in recovery, that “Where ever you go, there you are …”
Which is timely with the introduction of tonight’s read: On the Road
As alcoholics, how many years did we spend, traveling from one place to another, trying to find ourselves, or a life, or something like it?
Our writer tonight, travels roads all over the earth, looking. This after being young and getting blackout drunk and trying to kill his stepfather, the judge says “You can either go to Juvie, or you can leave town until you turn 21!”
Not wanting to go to juvie, our writer takes to the road in search of himself, but never finds himself until he darkens a room of A.A. He spends the better part of his life drinking his way around the world and back again, until he takes his last drink.
And even then, he really did not connect. And every time a sponsor “lovingly suggested” that he do some work, he would summarily fire them and move on to someone else, who had, he thought, a much easier softer way.
Some years into sobriety, say, around the two year mark, we enter what we like to call,the “angry years” where nothing fits, everybody is wrong and has no idea. And if we stay sober through this we eventually get to what we next call the “jumping off point.”
This is the stage where we say “SHIT or get off the Pot !”
There are many ways to approach recovery. I get the slow starters. I understand the questions, the uncertainty, the fear, of just how am I going to live, now that I am trying to get sober, and what will my life look like and what will I do if I can’t have just one???
Come in, sit down, and relax. All the jobs have been taken. Listen and have an open mind.
Eventually, you will hear your sponsor speak, and that is when you know what to do. OR you could just cold cock it and put it out there, that you need a sponsor, and see who rises to the occasion.
That works just as well.
Back to On the Road …
Growing up, I listened to my parents talk, A LOT ! Drunk and Sober. I heard a lot of things, and realized in my journey, that to be myself, I could not do that at home. I had to get out.
My shrink at the time told me what to do …
He said, and I quote “The best way to become part of a certain community is , to go to the bar, sit down at the bar and have a drink. Hell, have two if the spirit moves you, and see what happens.”
The entire decade of my twenties was wrapped up in one sentence.
On a bar stool, looking pretty, talking the right game, drinking the right liquor, and watching what happens.
I can’t tell you how many times I moved during those ten years. I had a brief foray into staying put from 26 to 28, but as soon as I was left to my own devices, I was off and running again. Until I hit my mid thirties. I had finally had enough of trying to find some place I could call my own.
I had come to that “Jumping Off Point” I was 34. Uneducated, by university standards, but wise on finding my way through poverty and sickness. I got sober again, and for a time, I settled where I was because I needed what my friends had and I needed to learn how to get sober again. I did that.
But in the back of my mind, and in my heart, Where I was, was not where I wanted to be.
Montreal was the stopping point.
I had been educated, I was sober, and I had a birthright in hand, that facilitated my last move.
It was the last step, in becoming the man I wanted to be, somewhere that I would call HOME.
Someplace that I could be ME, that I could be free of the past. Free of the pain, sickness and poverty that I was living in prior to my last move.
This time I had ammunition. This time I did it the right way. I found a home, I found the rooms, and I met people who would get me into the life I wanted.
The best piece of advice I heard the first week was this:
Go to meetings. Find a home group.
Build your LIFE around your MEETINGS, not your MEETINGS around your LIFE.
I did that. And I’ve been successful for the last 12 and some years. I never deviated from this advice, unless of course, I could not find another night to have class. Your home group is sacrosanct. You never miss your home group, no matter what. it should be your first responsibility.
Only 2 semesters in ten years did I ever have to miss my home group.
Our young people, in their twenties who are in the nest right now, are still trying to figure out who they will become and how they are going to get through school and life and be social, and NOT drink.
That is a tall order. It is a tall order for most folks coming in the room at any stage of the game. We all say that same thing … How can I survive this life and not drink?
I had to get to the point that moving from place to place was no longer working. I had to get to the point that I was ready to grow up and learn how to live in my skin, and become the man I so wanted to become.
Finding that “PLACE” is integral to success.
Because, where ever you go, there you are …
I was getting too old to keep looking, and not finding. The time had come to either SHIT or get off the pot, so to speak. I had no more time to waste, time was of the essence. And If I didn’t take that chance that I had, I would never have gotten here.
And I like HERE. I want to be HERE. I love HERE.
If you don’t know where you are going, then STOP. Sit down where you are and rest. Look around you and survey your surroundings. Study your location and the people in that location. Consult your life map and ask your questions. THEN when you are ready to take that next step, gather your map and your things and take that step.
Growing up was not as hard or as painful as I thought it would be. When I was still drinking, all that mattered was having the delusional life I thought I wanted. WRONG !!! Knowing that where I was at that time, was not where I wanted to be, I think contributed to what I did next.
But I had to put the drink down first to be able to make a conscious life decision.
The rest they say is history.
All my guys are good. I Skyped with Pittsburgh, everyone is well. Our little group is sober another weekend. And we are good to go for the next week.
More to come, stay tuned …
OH, and I SCORED a #19 Germany – Mario Gotze World Cup Jersey. Pictured below and on the sidebar !!! Ten Cheers for EBAY !!! YAY !!!
Boy, was it HOT today. The last time it was this hot, was back in July. And we are under a severe thunderstorm watch at this hour.
I had nothing to do today, so I slept in. In the end I had several dreams one after another covering a few topics that have arisen in my mind over the past week. I am not only ruminating at night before bed, I am dreaming of people, places and things as well. It was interesting to see how the dreams played out. Even while I am sleeping my mind is in overdrive.
When my alarm clock finally went off at 4:30 this afternoon, I was like, NO, More Sleep Please !!!
I diddled here on the computer and got ready to go. I was meeting with one of my guys prior to the meeting, on the other side of town, so I left uber early. It was a miserable 28c out with a humidex of 38c. The skies were growing darker every minute as I made my way to the Metro.
If it was unbearable outside, then it was doubly worse in the tunnels. The heat generated by the trains and the air in the tunnels is really warm. And that warmth is a really good thing come winter. But it was sweaty hot outside, and I was traveling at peak rush hour. I don’t usually travel this early.
The trains were PACKED, across both lines.
When I made my connection, the car was packed wall to wall. It was sweaty hot, I was dripping all over myself and with so many folks around, wiping dripping sweat was problematic. UGH !!!
I arrived at Laurier and when I came out of the station it was dark. It was close to six o’clock. It was also raining. You would have thought that it would be Pouring rain seeing how dark it was outside. By the time I made my stop, the rain was coming to an end. And it seemed a bit cooler out.
We sat a jam packed house. We split up into two groups to allow everyone to get a chance at sharing.
Tonight’s read : A.B.S.I. #68 Giving without Demand.
The read speaks about working with others, and sharing the message. And the why’s, how’s and what for’s. We give it away freely, because it came to us freely. If you try and give it away to one, and it doesn’t take, there is always someone waiting in the wings for what you have to give.
The discussion went around and around, and culminated with a consensus about what we do with what we know, how best to utilize that knowledge and how best to serve.
I noted on the way home to a friend, that our young people don’t seem to realize how much they help us to help them. Our years of time run from days to months, to multiple years. And I have said before that if you listen well to your friends, and your fellows, you learn how to help them with what you know.
But why don’t I have any sponsees? was a general question from folks with a few years.
They go to meetings, and they work, and they share, but the pigeon coop is empty.
I know for me it took a long time until the time was right to begin working with others one on one. But I also said at the meeting, that when we go to a meeting and we share from our seats, we are “working with others” because you never know when something you say will impact someone in a way that betters their journey and they learn something.
Sharing from your chair is a good way to hear yourself speak, to polish your skills at words and work, and it gives folks an opportunity to listen to you, because you never know when someone will walk up to you and ask you to work with them.
I have said before that I had to top off my tanks. And only diligent study, prayer and focus was what was necessary to ignite the universe and in turn the universe sends people to us, at the right moment, for the right reasons.
When you listen at a meeting to your fellows share themselves, the more one listens, the more time you get to hone your skills at words, and eventually you speak up and what happens is that wisdom comes to you and to those listening to you.
I don’t have all the answers. All I have is all what I have learned in 12 years and some months. And it isn’t all about me.
I had to learn, “how to learn” from people who knew how to teach and lead. I listened to people from other places, and how they did the work. And then I practiced. I worked, then the universe opened up to me. That’s how I learned to work with others. By watching others do the work.
We also heard the words, “I can’t get you sober, and you aren’t going to make me drink.”
That is a common phrase we hear from our old timers and new prospects.
In some cases, people came to me, because the moment was there for a connection, deeper than just a phone call to say hello. In other cases, the moment came amid a conversation and the opportunity presented itself to step into a working relationship. Lastly, a newcomer walks into a room seeking direction and out of ten men, I was the only one with a cell phone and offered up my number and things just went on from there.
So you never know when the opportunity to work with someone will come. Be prepared.
But when we get to the end of the first 164 pages of the Big Book, in the reading “A Vision for You” it says that once we get our house in order, we are ready to give, the caveat is that obviously, one cannot give what they don’t have.” Which means that only through learning and study and time in the rooms, can we ever learn how to be present, when to speak up, when to listen, when to step up.
It takes a fine ear to hear the “Words Between the Words.” And that takes a long time to hone.
Like I said, when the universe thinks you are ready, it sends you a nugget. It is then your choice what to do with it. Listen. Listen well.
You can’t lead another human being through the steps until you yourself have done them as well. And it may take a second pass or many passes through the steps until the right opportunity opens up. This calls for patience and humility. Multiple passes through the steps, and working with a sponsor, only deepens our knowledge of how to use what we have learned. And being able to lead from the right direction and motive.
Because if you are in it to glorify yourself or stoke your ego, better sit down and say nothing, rather than opening up your mouth and sticking your foot into it all the way up to your knees !!!
Over time, the ear is refined to hear ego speak, and know when it approaches.
Run, don’t walk, to the nearest emergency exit !!!
We’ve seen many men and women come and go. And we’ve all heard the stories about hallowed and terrible sponsors. The groups have survived them all. One must be careful, what we give and how we give it, and from what direction and our motives. You never want to make a serious situation worse, or further, cause someone to take a drink. And if they do drink, it was their choice. But better to meter your words carefully, to speak wisely and correctly.
If you don’t know what words to use, ask, or pray for wisdom.
It seems the gentle, easy path is the most fruitful. I won’t throw a book at someone who has just come in the door, or someone who has only been in for a short time.
I believe in the come in, pick your chair, sit down in that chair and get used to your chair. You will spend a lot of time in that chair. When you are ready, I am here. I wait for the moment to arrive.
In between that time I am Present. I come, I sit and I listen. And I learn about you. In turn you teach me about myself. Working close with others is a great way to see your own shortcomings and character defects. Which in turn promotes humility.
I’ve seen what happens when someone allows ego to go to their heads.
Eventually they implode. Sad but true.
I sat at the table and when we took our moment, I heard the angels sing when we prayed.
It is the highlight of the week, to sit with my friends and say that prayer together. It is home.
And for that I am grateful.
I made my trek home and when I came out of the station on my end of town, lightening was streaking across the sky. But I haven’t seen any substantial rain fall on either end. Maybe later tonight, we’ll see.
More to come, stay tuned …
They called for rain last night (for tonight), and said the sky would open up and dump cat’s, dog’s and little fishes upon us. They said it would start early and last into the night. Well, it did rain. Once I reached where I was going, after carrying my BIG umbrella, because it was called for “STORM!”
I was ready to go early, and as I locked the door and called for the elevator, it arrived and I had forgotten my BIG umbrella, so I had to go back and get it, I missed my elevator. UGH …
It was going to be one of those days …
I made stops on the way, and got through the turnstile, and down to the platform, and as I walked onto the train, my belt popped and my pants fell down on the train. One hand was full carrying BIG umbrella, and the other was holding my phone (read: music).
I don’t often shop at Target, for reasons I will share with you now …
They day they opened, I bought a brand new pair of Skull Candy Headphones that were said to be indestructible and would never break ! 6 months later, they crapped out. My $40.00 purchase turned into a $60.00 repair mission. I am waiting for either a new pair or something like them.
Belts and I are not a very comfy couple.
I bought a belt. $30.00… Belts are expensive. This particular belt has a buckle that has two very small pins holding the belt inside the buckle. And let’s just say that the work is shoddy. That belt split in two and both pins fell out of the buckle, hence the belt became useless.
I bought a second belt not long ago (another $30.00). I refused to stand in line for a return because I did not have the receipt. Fast forward to today …
I got on the train and I felt the belt I was wearing come apart. I was not prepared to moon the train car, and I had to pocket my phone and hold my pants up by the belt strap across the transit, onto another train, across the city, up and out of the station, and walked down the hill, holding up my pants with my fingers, until I reached the church … It still had not rained yet …
I get upstairs at the church. and pull my belt out of my bag, because I had taken it off on my transfer stop. I notice that one pin is missing and the other had unwound (read: unscrewed) I don’t usually carry tools with me in my backpack. At least one screw was still there, I was able to re-screw it back into the hole, and I regained my belt.
Thankfully, I did not have to hold up my pants through the night.
It rained …
We sat a nice group. We read from the Twelve and Twelve, Step One … We are working on a 12 week study of the Twelve and Twelve.
What Man or Woman, is ready to admit complete defeat ???
I had been defeated by a faulty belt earlier.
I tell this story about living in an alcoholic home and having a top rate education on alcoholism, you’d have thought I would have learned something, I didn’t. I can’t remember the word obsession ever coming into my lexicon. I never thought about addiction either. And further, I never called myself an alcoholic, but purely, I was.
The lesson I learned the first time is, that if you get sober, and you don’t focus your energy on getting sober and staying sober (i.e. The Work) Using the book and doing the work, you probably will drink again.
The second time I got sober, it was ONLY about my alcoholism. There weren’t any other issues hanging over my head. I don’t know if I would say that my second bottom was lower than the first. The first one was really bad. The second one, not that much. I knew the end was coming. I was tired of delusional thinking and the misery of the morning after. So I stopped.
Life Did Get Better. It only took 12 years and some odd months.
I can’t tell you or stress to you how important it is to be grounded in the Book(s). Had I made this a priority the first time, and not had death staring me in the face, I would be twenty years sober this year.
Alas that did not happen.
“And even in long term sobriety, 10 plus years or more … your sobriety is totally contingent on your spiritual condition and the depth you are rooted in prayer and in the books.”
I had to get into it to reap the rewards of being in it. And they did come.
The ability to give it away, properly, in my opinion, rests in the time you have spent studying the books, saying ones prayers, and working in the books. Until I had sunk into the books, with my sponsor, I was ill prepared to give it away, further than showing up at a meeting and sharing.
It took a year of work, prayer and study, for God to say, “ok, you are ready to give it away, here are your guys … One, Two, and Three … Bing, Bang, Boom !!!”
I am powerless over alcohol, but my life, today, is manageable. The second part of Step One speaks to being powerless over People, Places and Things.
It took a very long time to understand and be able to accept this little fact. However hard I try to please someone, or get someone’s attention, or their approval, i am powerless over people.
The other note I have written in my 12 and 12, at the back of Step One is this …
“While you are in a meeting, your alcoholism is out in the parking lot doing pushups, just waiting for you to come out and take you down.”
I have a friend, in the rooms today, who I have known since the day I arrived here. We were sober together, but he, like many, did not stick and stay.
I am nearing thirteen years, and on this past Sunday he took his Three Month Chip.
A long time ago, (seven or eight years ago) I was at my home group, and some Bozo came in and told me that this same friend committed suicide and was dead. Today, you don’t really hear much gossip like we used to hear. And those jokers are no longer around.
I was not happy and very sad. The one thing you never want to hear about a friend in the room is that he or she is dead, by their own hands. I did not trust this news because, One, that the news came from that particular man, and Two. that in the end, it was just gossip. And when I learned that it was just gossip, I spared not the rod, nor my wrath on him. He did not stick around after that.
Fast Forward to today… I am sitting with this friend and I am so amazed that he is back and sober today. And I was really grateful that he was sitting across from me, alive and well.
I mean it was like a palpable feeling of warmth.
After the meeting I spoke to him and reminded him of that story. And told him how happy I was to see him alive, well and sober once again. And that I remember what it felt like to hear another member tell me that he was dead. My friend is a unique snowflake. There are no other men like him in my life and for that matter, in our rooms.
He is totally special to me because of the long time friendship we share.
I have learned a great deal from him. While he was sober, but more, in why he drank again, and in watching that happen, I learned from him what Not To Do … Spend a number of years in the same room with the same people, you will find that if you stay sober, every person who walks into that room, on any given night, is your teacher.
Only if you pay attention, listen and learn.
The numbers of folks who have come in and either gone out or disappeared is high. I have a ton of stories about these people, many of whom I have already written about in the past.
Our little group is sober another night.
I am grateful on purpose again…
I have been feeling a lot of palpable gratitude as of late. It feels great.
Oh and by the way, when I got home, I found a screw in my toolbox and fixed my belt. Hopefully I have renewed its worth a bit…
More to come, stay tuned …
What do you do for Labor day? For many on the East Coast, this weekend is the final weekend of Summer, the last weekend to party it up, before season closes.
The weather has been up and down. Rain here, rain there. I, however, got out and back without a drop which was good. I was up and ready to go with plenty of time and sat on my hands for the last half hour before I finally hit the door.
I got to the elevator bank, and there was a woman waiting, the button was pushed. But there was silence. You can hear the elevators coming up and down the shafts, so we stood there for five minutes, ten minutes, no elevators …
I pushed the UP button because the Up brings the elevator right to the floor directly. When you push the DOWN button, the elevator NEVER comes directly to the floor you are on. It always goes up to come down. I don’t know why it does that.
Well, Up didn’t work.
Another of my floor mates came to wait with me, and the elevators were not coming for some ungodly reason. So we walked down seventeen flights of stairs to reach the atrium. I Hate Stairs …
When I got down to the first floor, elevator ONE was stuck in the basement, and elevator TWO was on its way up. A little late for an up since we walked down the entire building…
When I finally got the the church, the door was open and the lights were on, a couple of members got there before me and said that the doors were unlocked when they got there, which means the super must have opened up for me early.
We cranked out set up and sat a full house. We had a bunch of visitors from out of town and we read Tradition Eight… The main take away:
“Money and spirituality don’t mix.”
You can’t turn a profit off of a Twelve Step call. Alcoholics who suffer, some go to rehab, and then they come to us. Some come to us directly. In any case, what would it be like if we charged folks for their sobriety?
There is not a dollar figure large enough that would compensate someone for giving it away. The Book reads “…Freely received, so freely given…”
The rooms gave me everything that I ever wanted or needed. The people in my life I could not put a dollar figure on. When I give it away, to the people I work with, you could not put a dollar figure on the emotional feeling of gratitude one gets, when people you work with get better.
I’ve seen “sober coaches” recently in the news, always coupled with someone who is trying to get sober, usually a celebrity … I wonder how much money they make a week as they “coach” someone into sobriety? And I wonder if that model works?
I mean if you have to pay someone to keep you sober, I think that speaks to the effort or lack there of said effort each sufferer puts into his/her own sober journey.
Yeah, I’ll get sober, my way. I will hire a coach to shadow me 24/7 in all my public events, and I will stay sober. I might not necessarily go to meetings on top of this, or maybe I might, but we’ll see …
We heard about Humility. We heard about Gratitude.
In New York, someone has to keep the doors open in the G.S.O. And someone needs to keep our G.S.O here in Montreal staffed and working. If you read the BOX 459, that comes monthly from New York, you can read all about how the system works, who gets paid and who doesn’t, and WHY?
The only requirement for membership is the desire to stop drinking. And Our common welfare comes first, personal recovery depends on A.A. Unity.
Each group has jobs, that rotate each month. And people do group service to give back for what they have been freely given. And you can’t put a dollar figure on that knowledge.
When a celebrity or a professional comes through our doors, who they are and what they do for a living is left at the door.
There is that separation between the human being and what they do.
However, I know of a handful of sober folks, I count among my friends, who work in recovery houses and rehabs. We know where they work, but when they hit a meeting, they are who they are. I’ve never heard someone mix business with pleasure.
In time you come to realize just how much of a pleasure going to meetings is, because you get to see the people you got sober with, the friends that you have made and we get to share amongst each other what we learn on a weekly basis. And that is a pleasure.
So that is a thing …
*** *** *** ***
Late night television has been hit and miss the past few weeks. The summer season is coming to an end, and we hit that [buffer zone] between summer and fall programming that always coincides with Labor Day.
Last night we got an encore presentation of “We Were Here.” It was the only worth while program on television at that hour. I guess God had a plan. This documentary has been showing an awful lot this summer. As if to say … This isn’t over, we need to think about this and remember. And we need NOT to forget.
Seriously, how can I forget?
I love one of the final thoughts in this piece about “The Ghost.”
People who lived through that era of time, either watching someone they loved get sick and die, or working on the front lines of treatment and service, Once we have gone through this crucible, we come out the other end. And for some, they never reconnect to life, or to a purpose, and thereby, become a ghost, traveling through life, not connecting, and never finding a purpose for themselves.
I as well, am married to someone younger than me. Who never saw this happen. He did not live through what I did. He did not watch all his friends die gruesome deaths like I did. But when we connected, he got on board 100%.
I’ve had two periods of sickness in the last thirteen years. But it wasn’t a death watch. And I haven’t had another AIDS related illness since.
I know how I got through that period. But I took me a long time to find a purpose in my life, rather than pissing my life away with drugs and alcohol. That point came and I found a purpose, or I thought I did.
When I got here, and was sober a year, my after care counselor asked me “so what do you want to do now?” She gave me an option to find a purpose. I was attached by that time. I went back to school. I had my meetings and good friends.
I found my purpose, and I share that purpose every day with my fellows.
There is that empty space in my heart for all my friends who did not get so lucky. I remember. I miss them. I never forget them. I think about them every time I open my medicine cabinet. The moment I forget or I stop opening that cabinet, I sign my own death warrant.
I remember What it was like, What happened and What it is like now.
How gracefully that thought crosses all the events in my life succinctly.
I have a story and that story matters.
Maya says … When you know good, Do good. When you learn, Teach.
That is what I do every day.
More to come, stay tuned …
“I believe that people are good if you give them half a chance and that good is more powerful than evil. The world seems to me excruciatingly, almost painfully beautiful at times, and the goodness and kindness of people often exceed that which even I expect.”
Lois Burnham Wilson
*** *** *** ***
“… And, speaking for Dr. Bob and myself, I gratefully declare that had it not been for our wives, Anne and Lois, neither of us could have lived to see A.A.’s beginning …”
As Bill Sees It, Page 67
…The Burnhams taught their children to be thoughtful and caring of others and to be of use in the world. The impressions of her home life are ones of excitement and lots of fun. Lois was particularly adventuresome and cared little for how she looked and was often referred to as a “tomboy.”
This aspect of her personality was given its fullest expression during the Burnhams long sojourns in southern Vermont. Each year, the family spent half a year in the Manchester, Vermont area where Dr. Burnham’s New York patients also spent long periods. Her parents were fully part of the upper-class social life there and were friends with many well-known people of the day, including Abraham Lincoln’s son whose children were among the younger Burnham’s playmates.
One of the children the Burnham’s played with, especially Rogers, was a boy who came each summer with his prominent family from Albany, New York. His name was Edwin or “Ebby” Thacher who would also become a close friend of Lois’ future husband, Bill Wilson, and be instrumental in Bill’s getting sober.
Rogers also found a pal in Bill Wilson, and in 1913 introduced him to his sister. Lois was over four years older than Bill, and being 22 at the time, did not regard him as anything other than her brother’s friend. But as the summers went on, she and Bill more and more found many common interests and gradually fell in love. They were both intelligent, athletic and fun-loving. Lois encouraged Bill at his studies and thought him to be a most remarkable young man. Her family shared this assessment. And so, in 1915, the couple became secretly engaged and married on January 24, 1918, just days before young officer Wilson shipped off to Europe in the First World War.
When Lois married Bill, she wed an upstanding young man of good character filled with exciting ideas about his future. What Lois did not marry was a drinker. On the contrary, Bill has a disdain for liquor partly because he believed it had played a part in his parents separation and divorce. It was a great shock to Lois some months later when, visiting her husband at his New Bedford, Massachusetts station, his soldier friends told her about Bill getting so drunk one night they had to carry him back to barracks. Lois could not believe they were speaking of her husband.
Bill shipped off to England, and Lois found work as an occupational therapist. As an educated woman, Lois believed in being independent and making her own living. She worked at the YWCA and was promoted several times within the organization leaving in 1917 to assist in a school her aunt had established in Short Hills, New Jersey. She left that position to marry Bill.
When Bill returned from the war, Lois hoped to start the family she always wanted. However, a series of miscarriages made childbearing impossible. This was a devastation for her. All Lois wanted out of life was a family and a home. Now she would not have the family. She and Bill tried to adopt, but they were unsuccessful. She later found out why – agencies performing routine background checks would eventually be told about Bill. Stories about his drinking would surface and be enough to make adoption impossible as well.
Bill’s drinking alarmed Lois very much. At first, she tried not to be concerned, but his drinking progressed during the early years of marriage to the point where he would see all his ambitions dashed and his wonderful opportunities for employment and advancement shattered. He became a broken man who eventually had to seek refuge with his wife in the house of his in-laws.
Lois employed many tactics over the years to help Bill get sober. She really thought she would be able to help him stop drinking. She would realize later how futile this was. Bill did stop in 1934, but it was not due to the efforts of his wife.
In 1939, Bill and Lois were forced to leave the Burnham’s house. Her father and mother had died, and the Wilsons could not afford to go anywhere except to the homes of various friends which they did for the following two years. Over the years, Lois had been the breadwinner bringing in a modest income from her work in department stores as a decorator and also from her consultations with private clients. While working at Macy’s she wrote an article on veneered furniture that was published by the popular House and Garden magazine.
Living as Lois once wrote “from pillar to post” was difficult for Lois. Not having children was a deep loss, and now, not to have a home was quite painful. She did her best and maintained her dignity throughout the ordeal but sometimes despaired that they might be homeless for a very long time.
But in 1941 an extraordinary thing happened. A generous offer was made by an acquaintance for the Wilsons to purchase a home in Westchester County. Due to this magnanimous gesture, the Wilsons moved into their first and only real home — Stepping Stones in Bedford Hills, New York. It took them 23 years, but they finally had a home of their own.
In 1951, Lois followed the suggestion made by her husband who had crafted the 12 steps of recovery in Alcoholics Anonymous to create a similar 12-step program for the family and friends of alcoholics. In truth, there had been several family groups around the country that Bill had become aware of and Anne Smith, wife of AA co-founder Dr. Bob, had been involved in working with wives and families from the very first…
… Working from Lois’ upstairs desk at Stepping Stones, Lois and Anne B., a nearby friend whose husband was in AA, wrote to 87 non-alcoholics who had written to AA asking for information about alcoholism. The letters had come from the U.S., Canada, Ireland, Australia and South Africa. Forty-eight people wrote back and eventually the organization known as the Al-Anon Family Groups was formed. It now has over 29,000 groups worldwide and a membership of over 387,000.
Lois Wilson died on October 6, 1988 at 97 years old. She was present and energetic throughout her latter years and enjoyed good health for most of them. She wanted to live to be 100 and almost did.
Lois was one of the 20th century’s most important women. Her life has been somewhat overshadowed by that of her husband, but, in recent years, she has emerged more visible than before for her unique contribution to humanity. It is through her tireless efforts and vision that Al-Anon is the strong organization it is today and why it continues to attract members through its message of hope and renewal.
*** *** *** ***
In the history of the fellowship we read the stories of Bill and Dr. Bob, their wives and the first hundreds of folks that they worked with wholeheartedly and with the only desire to help them achieve sobriety, behind every drunk, stands his wife.
Many of the stories we read from the back of the book historians write about failed marriages and separations. You don’t really ever hear the word “divorce” very much, and as I sit and think about it, I don’t ever remember coming upon that word as yet in our reading on Sunday’s.
There is something to be said about Love and Marriage. I think about these actions and sentiments as a backdrop to my own life as it was lived.
We all know what the history books say about each decade as it happened. The 20’s,30’s,40’s and beyond. Things were very hard. Survival was paramount during a time when there was not really all that much to hold on to.
It isn’t until you speak your vows to your beloved that they begin to manifest. For myself, I got some good practice in, prior to our marriage in 2004.
In my history, couples married for life. Talk of separation or divorce did not enter my lexicon until I was a teen ager. All of the wives in my family were long suffered. All of the men in those marriages were drinkers. Nobody said a word. Nobody dared speak out or even consider leaving, because where would the women go in any case, and with what/who’s money?
There are several texts “Dr. Bob and the Good Old Timers,” “Pass it On,” and “Alcoholics Anonymous Comes of Age,” all of these books tell the back stories of the fellowship, where it came from, who was part of it, how it came to be, and finally where it finally went when Bill stepped away.
The reading tonight spoke of Founders. And in this reading Bill writes that he wished that he could remove the word “Founder” all together. But to this day June 10, is marked in Akron as the day (June 10, 1935) Bill and Dr. Bob set out to find the best way to reform alcoholics and A.A. was born.
In the beginning jobs were hard to come by, and owning a family home only happened for those who could afford it or were born into it. Back in Old New York, there are images in print of the places that Bill and Dr. Bob lived. And how their wives played a crucial role in the rehabilitation of the alcoholic who still suffers.
And you might imagine, a kitchen, complete with dining table and chairs and fair sitting rooms and bedrooms housing assorted drunks from town. While Bill pounded the pavement and tried sobering up the masses, The likes of Anne and Lois, busied themselves with jobs, AND cooking, cleaning and serving those who came to their homes. Imagine what that must have looked like in the 30’s and 40’s.
I can see it in my mind’s eye … Kitchens in the houses of my grandmothers. You actually ate in the kitchen at the table. My aunt had a very small kitchen and we ate in a dining room off to the side.
But just imagine what it looked like, opening your home to complete strangers, if only to help your husband sober them up and put them on the path. And from what we read in the history, the numbers were not very good. The odds FOR sobriety were pretty slim.
There were a handful of women who played a crucial role in the lives of the men who brought the program of recovery to fruition. There was something very solid in how the wives of Bill, Bob and assorted other characters stuck and stayed. It was not easy, by any stretch of the imagination.
Bill and Bob eventually got sober. I imagine in my minds eye, the conversations going on in the kitchens of many women together and by themselves, about their husbands, and just how they would like them to get sober, and how they were going to do that. The men eventually got sober, but not because of their wives.
In How it Works, it states that “We are not saints…” Both Bill and Bob had their assorted issues. And if you have ever seen the documentary, “Bill W,” I will only say that Lois was a rock star, in every stage of Bills life.
It WAS important, the roles those wives played in the maintenance of home, family, marriage and love.
Love the one you are with, and be grateful for their presence in your life today. It matter so much more when you have someone who loves you in your life, who supports you and wants the best for you.
Lois and Anne were those kind of women.
Lifted From: Sects and Violence in the Ancient World
Children brought up in a religious environment, according to a recent BBC story, are more prone to believe in fictional characters. The story, based on research from my alma mater, Boston University, suggests that if children are taught to believe miraculous stories at a young age, they will more likely believe that fictional figures are based in reality too.
Undoubtedly this will be seen as yet another brick in Montresor’s wall by those who can find no good in religion. The reasoning will go something like this: believing in no religion is the “neutral” position. If we raise children in a religious context, we are inclining them toward a fictional belief system and making them less likely to reason their way out of it. Therefore, we should raise children secular.
Even in the BBC story there are dissenting voices. Perhaps children who learn about Jesus find Thor a more compelling character. Perhaps they are open to possibilities that logic shuts out. Our brains have two hemispheres for a reason. I often wonder whether it is possible to be fully human while ignoring about half of what evolution gave us to work with.
Logic tells me that religious belief serves a survival function. And my creative side still appreciates the possibilities that my Manhattan brain is forced to shut down every day when I punch the clock. If there’s nothing more than work, perhaps believing in fiction serves a valuable function after all. But I suspect this is playing right into the rationalists’ hand. Pass me another brick, will you, Fortunato?
The jury, however, is still out on the nature of reality. Even for materialists. Gods of the gaps tend not to survive very well. The question is actually much larger than that. We don’t know the nature of ultimate reality. We’re not even sure what reality is yet.
Can a parent who believes in God, after the experience of growing to maturity in a heartless universe, be blamed for teaching their children the same? No humane parent raises their child purposefully teaching them falsehoods. Yes, some children are damaged by religious upbringings. Some are damaged by materialist upbringings as well.
What seems to have shifted, in my humble opinion, is the popular perceptions of religion. What used to be understood as the foundation of a civil society is now challenged as a harmful fantasy that encourages children to grow up into terrorists or non-functioning adults.
The belief that we can raise children with no biases, however, is clearly fiction. Until we have the full truth, there should be room for both Gilligan and the Professor on this island. But then again, I was raised to believe in the divine world, so what do I know?
*** *** *** ***
I am a child of the 1970’s,80’s and beyond. Now in my late 40’s I can reflect on what I have learned so far, and be able to look back on what I learned early on. If you grew up in this period of time, then you will get all these references that I am about to write about.
I come from a Catholic background. And back in the day there was much family and prayer, saints and church. But aside from all of that there were many outings and adventures.
The first movies I remember were Old Yeller, Bambi, and the much anticipated Star Wars. We went to see the very first installment at Twin City Theatres in New Britain Ct. I’d never seen anything like it. Nobody had.
And as I look back on 47 years of life. we can safely say that George Lucas gave the world something to believe in. Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away …
CUE Music ….
I never thought about religion or God when viewing these movies. Fictional characters were larger than life. Luke, Leia, Obi Wan and of course Yoda. Then you had the dark side represented by Darth Vader. Those movies were stories for the ages.
Faith – Power – Good – Evil – The Light – and The Darkness – Family Etc …
I would not realize what that meant for a very long time. And cannot be seen unless in retrospect. From this side of the story and not the earlier. As the next two motion pictures came out, the story filled out and we got a few steps closer to the depth and gravity of the story.
I remember sitting in the Falls Theatre, I was a teen ager by now, watching Return of the Jedi and I had a spiritual experience watching Luke being tortured by the Sith Lord. And Darth coming to his rescue. I felt emotions that I could not name, however they were occurring at that time.
That whole series of movies were existential and spiritual for me. There are no two ways about it. They certainly made an impact in my life and the way I chose to live it after all these years.
The whole cosmic universe of Star Wars was a teaching in religion and faith from a distant galaxy. I know that now, having studied the worlds greatest religions in university and spent 47 years getting to know God myself.
Over the decades we played with toys, you know we all had them. We built legos and star fighters. We had the figurines. And we believed that those people were indeed real because George Lucas brought them to our collective consciousnesses. Amid all that was going on in the world, we could escape into the universe of Star Wars when ever we wanted to.
I know we have all seen the Star Wars Trilogy and the subsequent prequels several times over, I know I have. What was more important was that in the 70’s and 80’s we got to live on Tatooine, and live the life of Luke and his family, like they were our family.
We learned all the teachings of Yoda. And I am sure we can all quote word for word every sentence he spoke from every movie he was in. I know for myself that I still cling to those words and I have applied them to my life and I use them in the work that I do today with others.
Do or Do Not … There is No Try !!!
Yoda, you seek Yoda, Take you to him …
Yoda was a teacher, and I am positive that the world is a better place because of him and the other teachers of the stories. Escapism, either good or bad, can lead to spiritual awakening or another. And I believe that my horizons were broadened in the experience of these stories.
God or the universe, what ever you called it then, existed. I believe that those movies fueled the hearts and minds of millions over the decades. I think it was a bit special to be of the generation to have experienced Star Wars in Theatre as they were released.
Today’s generation, only get them on dvd. They did not get to see the movies on Big Screens. When they did the digital reload of the films, I got to see them on DVD, I own the collection today.
I don’t know if the impact of these films were or are as great as when they were first released. Times were different. We did not have the internet or social media, and today’s kids are too engrossed with technology to sit for a long period of time and concentrate on anything that isn’t connected to Twitter, Facebook or a Cell Phone.
I know that my love of music, from the 70’s onwards was part of my lexicon. The movies were as well. And when finally cable tv came to Florida when I was a teen ager, we got to see much more film and programming.
Things were much simpler in those days. We had each other. We had family, we had friends, whom we shared our greatest treasures with. Music, Film and TV.
In the last fifteen years, Peter Jackson gave us the Hobbit and all those stories. I read them in school, and I have the books in my library, but I did not take to them like I took to Star Wars and other stories.
We had the Tween movies of late.
And then there is Harry Potter.
Harry Potter. Do you dig him like I do?
I fell into Harry Potter because of my therapist who’s office was decorated in Harry Potter Sheik. When we were talking I gravitated towards him, because I felt like an orphan and I was alone in my life and I really needed certain direction.
When I learned that Harry and I shared a birthday in common, I was hooked. It is also J.K. Rowling’s Birthday as well. I have every book and related story that was published. All the monster books, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and of course all of the books, and every dvd that was produced.
I remember the day the first Harry Potter movie came out, I was living on South Beach and I bought two tickets and I had to watch the first one by myself, however hard a good friend tried to go with me, I insisted we take in the second showing together.
I think I had the first three books by the time I moved here to Montreal in 2002. And Montreal does books very well. Each subsequent release was an event to partake. The book stores were decorated, the employees dressed up and there were hundreds of people who would come to partake and be sorted into houses and then wait for hours until the midnight release time to get your next book.
Harry Potter is another Story for the Ages. No matter where you live, or who you are, unless of course you derided magic and everything to do with Harry, you got hooked, at least I did.
I got to grow up all over again.
I even have my own wand that my therapist gave me when I moved here. Harry Potter fandom is not isolated. The world was taken by him and the story.
I loved reading. And if you search Harry on my blog here you will find hundreds of entries about him. When each book came out I would sit a read through the entire book in one fell swoop. I did that for all of the books.
And to this day, I have several Harry Potter books along side my bed at arms reach so that I can read certain chapters over and over again. I loved Harry, but silently I always rooted for Ron Weasley. The stalwart sidekick who always got second billing.
Hogwarts was a place we could all believe in.
The battle for Good over Evil.
The importance of Family and of Memory.
The value of Friendship and Honor.
The incalculable potency of certain magic.
If you’ve read the Deathly Hallows, then you understand these things.
Like Star Wars, for the older set of folks who are reading, Harry Potter was of this age, something to cling to, to honor, to love and to cherish. We all know what house we belong to.
I am a Gryffindor… I was sorted a long time ago.
And I think we all strive to be a little like our counterparts from the stories. And I think we carry a little of each character/person into our daily lives.
So what does God have to do with any of this?
Do you believe in God? Did you believe in the Star Wars Universe? Were you a Trekkie? Are you a Potter Head? Do you have a favorite story or set of books you would carry with you to your grave and believe strongly in the story, its characters and the words on the page?
Does your faith in God battle with the Gods and Characters of Fiction?
I say that if you have a solid faith in God, or in the faith you practice, then none of this should shake that foundation. That has been the battle for the last ten years for some, people get all in arms over religion and faith, that any little chink in the chain rattles them to high heaven. God forbid …
Can you find or did you find room in your religious/spiritual lexicon to include all those favorite characters you have read in your lifetime as a belief system?
And does the fictional world augment or detract from your religious/spiritual life?
Can both exist in the same space/mind? And if it can how has it impacted the life you live and the way you work with and or relate to others?
I just thought that this was an interesting post, originally found on his blog. I said as much, in fewer words there the other night.
I hope you enjoyed this post. If you like it, give it a thumbs up.
More to come, stay tuned …
It is Sunday …. My favorite day of the week… Well, second favorite behind Friday Nights.
Another weekend in the books. Not a whole lot going on. Mother Nature has heaped shitty weather upon us for the last week, and tonight I listened to many grumble about the weather. There is a marked change in the weather as of late.
I think the seasons are beginning to turn ever so slowly.
Fall does not begin for some time, but that never stopped mother nature from dropping pissy weather on us for days at a time.
All the pieces came together tonight. The entire team of players was present, which makes a meeting all the more polished. And we sat a fair number. And we both read/and/discussed the entire circle with a short overage.
Tonight’s story – Twice Gifted.
When you get sober, at some point in your sober journey, you may hear another human being tell your story, sometimes exactly. It may take some time, but the odds are good that there is someone out there who has lived your story in their lives.
Then there is the second option. That eventually you will open the book and read a story and come to find that the writer of said story lived your life and has written it down for your benefit, and to the benefit of others.
For myself, I am mentioned twice in the book. Once as an alcoholic tornado running roughshod through the life of someone else. And that episode cost me a very good friend and ended a wonderful relationship.
The second time was in the above mentioned story. It so happened tonight that when the reading got to me, I started my paragraph and quickly noticed that it was word for word, my life in print. Kind of eery if you ask me.
The writer does not stop at drinking young, she gets to the point that her drinking has caused her to suffer cirrhosis of the liver, and required a liver transplant, which she indeed gets, which leads to sobriety.
How many alcoholics suffer illness of one form or another stemming from their abuse of alcohol?
And how many alcoholics ended up with life threatening illnesses directly related to the abuse of alcoholism?
I listened to the rest of the story that was read tonight and a thought came to mind.
When I was a child, my grandfather was a drunk. And suffered cirrhosis of the liver, he also had a stroke and those combined took him to his death when I was a teenager. There was no love lost there.
My father was also an alcoholic, but not to that extent. He skated by, and how he skated by I do not know, because he was a top notch drinker, along with my mother.
And I mused tonight … I read the book each week. And the more I read, I came to the realization during tonight’s read that as a young boy, the Big Book was open and was happening all around me, in living color, for me to see and experience. Alcoholism was rampant. Nobody said anything about it, perish the thought. I watched the consequences happen for people who drank too much, several times over.
Nobody knew from recovery or quitting the drinking.
And You think I would have learned something, as in (Don’t do this too!!!)
Nope, Nada, Nothing.
I can’t tell you when or why I contracted AIDS. I was involved with someone (read:James) who had it, but I did not learn this fact until after he killed himself. I do remember on several occasions coming to the end, being in the wrong place, doing things I should not have been doing with people, I was drinking around the clock.
Back in the day you could drink 23 hours a day, and on several occasions, I took the city up on that offer. I could drink happy hour away, drink through the night, drink after hours till the bars closed, then take an hours break, and start all over again the next morning. I was young and back then I was still pretty, until I got tainted. Alcohol facilitated many episodes between other alcoholics, which may be construed as quite possibly, unsafe, sexually …
Peeling back the onion the longer I am sober, takes me back to places I haven’t thought about in more than twenty years. But that’s what the stories are there for, to remind you of how insane your drinking was ( read: in your case-based on your history).
When life is fueled by alcohol, and everyone you knew, drank, and every day of your life revolves around the drink, you don’t think about stopping, nor do you think about anyone else who is not directly involved with imbibing. And that was the story of my twenties, until I was diagnosed in 1994, then everything changed.
Life had finally caught up with me and I was slapped with a severe dose of reality.
Death was the end, that’s how it was supposed to end.
God had other plans for me.
Once you get sober, the beginning is the outside job. You get cleaned up. You might even get new clothes. You wash and get to your first meeting. The longer you stay sober, and you begin to peel the onion, the job moves inside. And for the rest of your days, you will be peeling back the onion, the job is never over, and never ends, (unless of course you drink again).
It was a great night. Lots of good people, coming together to be together, and everyone is eternally grateful for having a place to go …
More to come, I still have a post to finish.