"Knock On The Sky"

"Knock on the sky and listen to the sound..." --Zen proverb

One part of the program that I've never been very good at is meditating. I do it from time to time, will even get a run in where I meditate every day in the morning, then it usually passes and I don't do it for a while. Usually a long while. I'm a spiritual guy, pray frequently, and am pretty good about practicing the principles in all my affairs, but this one piece always seems to fall by the wayside for me.

It might be some personal prejudices I have against the process. I've known a lot of hippie-happy-kumbaya types. And I do have a general distrust of people who scratch the shallow surface of new age-ish practices and claim to have found deep, profound meaning. Or it could be that I don't like to be alone with my busy brain.

Regardless, I'm trying it again. This morning, I felt the resistance, then heard a voice inside tell me to just listen to the sound of my own mind. I did, and what a cacophony. Thoughts bouncing all over the place, comments both real and imagined being passed back and forth. My brain is a chaotic mess. Maybe my higher power is aware of this and has been welling the urge to meditate up inside me because of it. Kind of like the Infinite All's way of saying, "Dammit, Zach, your brain's so loud--shut it already!" Ha!

Sometimes I'm very centered. One night a few weeks back, I was shooting pool and was having a great night. The balls fell into their pockets one right after the other. The chaos of the pool hall around me faded away. It felt great. But it wasn't the great night I had that brought the feeling of centeredness, it was that I was centered and that's why I had a great night.

A lot of people use meditation to center themselves. I admit, I did feel better after I took a few minutes this morning. I felt more grounded. I've heard of folks having deep insights from meditating. I have had the occasional light bulb. Something about it still seems touchy-feely to me, though.

Step Eleven talks about increasing our conscious contact through prayer and meditation. When we work the 12-steps, we're working a spiritual program. Step eleven is where that point really hits home. We've admitted our powerlessness, given our lives over. We've addressed our defects and cleaned up the wreckage of our past. Moving forward, we do so intentionally and under the guidance of something greater than ourselves. Meditation is as old a spiritual practice as praying. I don't do it all that much, so I can't say with any authority that it works. But it works for other people, so I'll keep at it.

Besides, I'd kind of like to know what the sky sounds like.

"Depression In Recovery"

I've dealt with depression in my recovery. Or maybe I should say that I deal with it from time to time. I've known people who use medication to help them in their own struggles, people who don't, and many folks who have differing levels of depression. Everything from a persistent sadness to a full-blown, suicide watch Depression with a capital 'D'. There is plenty of debate about whether or not taking psych meds disqualifies someone from claiming they are clean and sober. There are people (like myself) who have had meds prescribed for them in the past and found that they didn't need them in Recovery. There are those, too, who have chosen to go off their meds and committed suicide (like one of my former sponsees). I have a sponsee right now who takes meds for bipolar disorder. I tell him to keep on taking them and make sure he doesn't run out.

Depression is one nasty animal. Metaphors can only describe it part way. I can write here about a black cloud that hangs over everything, a thick fog, but it just doesn't do that awful mental state justice. Someone can literally tell you they love you, and it will sound in your ears, heart, and mind like they are telling you you're the worst person in the world, a waste of skin, and that you really should just go away to someplace where no one will ever find you and lay down and die. And then you feel guilty because you don't do it.

For some, medication is the only way to have a healthy life. It can be the one piece of a daily existence that makes everything else possible. It can be a temporary help when working through trauma or difficult life circumstances. There are many of us who refuse to take meds. As people who suffer from the disease, we tend to be very stubborn, insistent that we can do it ourselves and don't need help. And yet, isn't that what got us into Recovery in the first place? Isn't that the first step on this journey? The surrender? The admission that, in all honesty, we really are miserable and can't go on like this anymore is where it begins. We finally swallow our pride, admit that we are beaten, and ask for help. And when we do, we discover something amazing: there is an end to the suffering. There is a way out, and we don't have to walk that path alone.

Whether or not someone takes meds to help them with their Depression is a decision best made by the individual and their therapist. Sponsors are not doctors (well, perhaps with one notable exception) and professional mental health decisions should be left up to the professionals. As a fellow in Recovery, I see my role as a supportive one. If someone needs an ear to listen to in hard times, I listen. If they want advice, I offer some. If they ask me whether or not they should take psych meds, I tell them that's not my decision to make, and that I will support theirs--whatever it is.

Recovery can help with depression--a lot. Working the 12 steps can be miraculously helpful for those who suffer from this spiritual disease, but they are not the be-all, end-all. If you're unhappy, 'depressed' with a little 'd', know that it will pass. Do what we are taught to do when we're feeling low: go to a meeting; work some steps; be of service to others. If your mental state is persistent, if your Depression is of the big 'D' variety, remember that you have other options, too.

We don't have to punish ourselves. It's okay to feel better, to feel good about ourselves. We. Are. Worth it.

"Naming The Spiritual"

Last night, after getting home from a day with family, I settled in on my couch and watched James Cameron's movie, "Avatar". I saw it twice when it was in the theatre and loved it. Watching it again last night, I remembered so many of the reasons why. At first, it was just because the film is so visually stunning. Cameron crafted a world that is so beautifully detailed. Just watching it again, I found myself thinking how cool it was to see. A feast for the eyes, for sure.

My thinking brain went on to be amazed at the technical achievement of it, how almost the entire movie is a creation from out of the computer and yet seems so real. I love the story, too. An outsider from another world learns the ways of a 'primitive' culture and discovers they aren't primitive at all, just different. He sees the errors of his own culture's ways--how might makes right doesn't, and ultimately takes his place among the native people, choosing to live the spiritual life and abandoning his former culture.

There's a lot of metaphor in this movie. It speaks real strongly to my perspective and my personal & political views. A powerful military that destroys other cultures? Check. A greedy corporation that will stop at nothing in their pursuit of profit? Check. But this blog really isn't the space for me to pontificate about the United States' bullying of the rest of the world, the wrongheaded pursuit of material things, or the genocide of the native American population.

In 'Avatar', the people of the alien planet have a spiritual knowledge--every living thing is connected. Cameron throws us a science bone on this to show that it is real, not superstition. But for me, this concept isn't a matter of science, it's one of faith. Maybe that's why I love this movie so much. For me, it describes the way I see the spiritual world here and now. I don't believe in a God that's watches over us from above. I believe in a spiritual essence that is part of us--not just every living thing, but every thing, period. Me. You. The animals. The trees. The rivers, streams, and sky.

The program teaches us to build a spiritual relationship with a power greater than ourselves. Many call that power 'God' but not everyone. I know people in Recovery who prefer the native American term 'Great Spirit'. I knew one alcoholic who called hers 'Big Blue'. There's a great joke about making a doorknob or a chair your higher power and letting that be your guide because at least then you won't have your idiot self running things anymore. But you know, even that makes sense to me because I see the spiritual as a power (or a force, or an energy) that is everywhere.

Another way I don't see the spiritual is as good versus evil. There's a great short story out there by Isaac Asimov where all the angels--including Satan--are servants of God. I talk occasionally about how right and wrong, good and evil, are human inventions. They are perspectives. I'm a fan of Christian Gnosticism. One of the books that wasn't included in the Christian bible, the book of Mary, talks about how we humans are the ones who create sin. Now, not everyone subscribes to this idea of moral relativism. Some people believe very strongly that right is right and wrong is wrong, period. But I have found than any example someone might give me of a concrete 'right' or 'wrong' can be easily countered. Murder? Totally wrong. Unless you're at war, in which case it's your sacred duty to kill. Incest? Evil shit. Unless you're royalty and concerned with continuing your blood lines. Stealing? Don't ever do that... unless you're starving and need to feed your family.

I dislike using the word 'God' to describe my higher power, but I do it because it's convenient. I'm human, limited. There really isn't a word for 'all of everything there ever was, is, isn't, will and won't be'. And I also have a hard time thinking of God as something outside myself. The spiritual is in me, is a part of me, not separate from me. I'm reminded of the Sci-Fi classic 'Stranger From A Strange Land' when the main character, after much deep searching, finally realizes he understands God and then proceeds to go around telling everyone he meets, "thou art God!" Again, it's the same theme: we are all connected; the spiritual is in us. It is us, and we are it.

Maybe I'll start calling my higher power 'Infinite All'.

“Guilt Training”

It’s Christmas season over here. The tension hangs in the air like a wet fog. Tons of people, everyone rushing around to find the perfect gift, to get this last one thing. Normally sane drivers are suddenly weaving through freeway lanes for no apparent reason. I even found myself stopping at a green light the other. Took me a few seconds to understand what all the honking behind me was about.

I suppose I’m tempted to go on a long diatribe about the material nature of my society, mark bullet points on the irony of buying stuff in order to show love, and I may yet still write that blog, but not today. I am thinking about the giving of gifts, though, and the receiving of them. Ever have someone give you a gift you didn’t want? Usually it’s a family member you haven’t seen in awhile, or maybe even your significant other. They hand you this... whatever it is... and feel so proud of themselves. You open it up and inside your heart sinks a little. Oh. Great. Swell. It’s just what I didn’t want. Still, you do your best to smile and say, “thank you.”

It’s a curious twist of culture. Someone gives you something that you didn’t ask for, don’t want, and your job is to appreciate it anyway. ‘It’s the thought that counts’ we say. Because, for some reason, the thoughts of the gift receiver about throwing whatever it is that we’ve been given in the river don’t count. Probably a good thing.

Or is it?

I’m going to ramble a bit here, because I have several thoughts going on at the moment. Is it a good thing to be so dishonest? Sure, you can say occasions like these are times where the little white lies are necessary. But I feel this situation skirts the edges of codependence. Maybe it’s just my own experience peeking through. I can think of many times where someone else has decided I needed something, I’ve told them I don’t, and then they’ve gotten it for me anyway. And then their feelings get hurt when I have the audacity to remind them of what I’ve already said.

Polite society. Ick. Such a sticky subject. Because this is the time of year where we’re all supposed to pretend that everything’s all happy and wonderful. And if someone gives us a gift, we’re supposed to be thankful that they did so, regardless of what it is. Because, you know, here in America, it’s the giving of things that shows we love each other. [Rats, it snuck in there!] Pardon my sarcasm, it just has always struck me as bizarre. We don’t know how to show love and affection for each other, so we buy shit instead.

But this whole ritual, regardless of what time of year it is, has always struck me as strange. Someone else decides for you what you need and then you have to go along with it otherwise you’re an ungrateful wretch. Well, I know it’s not like that for everyone, but it’s very familiar to me.

I like being able to decide for myself what I do and don’t like, what I do and don’t want. Other people don’t get to decide for me who I am, only I do.

Okay, that’s enough ranting. Time for some gratitude work. Not everyone receives gifts. Not everyone has family or friends to spend this time of the year with. Some of us even work extra hard to push people away so that we end up alone even though we hate that we are. Not everyone can afford to give gifts, and our culture is merciless towards those who can’t. We have this knee-jerk response that someone is a bad person if they can’t afford to buy stuff.

The path of honesty isn’t always a clear-cut one. There are certain things we are expected to not be fully honest about. Our response when someone asks how we’re doing; the receipt of an unwelcome gift. it would be nice if we lived in a world where everyone followed spiritual principles, but we don’t. We can live by those principles ourselves, do our best to follow that path, and work hard at being honest with ourselves and others. But it ain’t easy. And that’s okay. If the spiritual path were easy, everyone would do it.

Yeah, a bit of a ramble today. How ‘bout that?

"Recovery Is Not A Weapon"

A newcomer was telling me recently about some difficulties she's having with her ex. The short of it is that he got into Recovery, started getting clean and going to 12-step meetings, and now is pointing the accusing "you're a drug addict" finger at her. When she told me this, I chuckled knowingly. We talked about the disease, how drug use is a symptom, that the real problem isn't what we're hooked on, it's that we don't know how to live, how to deal with life, with ourselves, with other people. We don't get magically better when we stop getting loaded. Recovery is a process that takes time. We don't become better people overnight. "And that," I concluded, "is why your boyfriend is still an asshole."

One of my sponsees went to a meeting once where they told him not to speak because he didn't have a year clean yet. "Zip it! You don't know nothin’. And what's worse, you don't know that you don't know nothin’! So sit down, shut up, listen and learn." I must confess, considering some of the stuff I've heard come out of the mouth of the random one-time meeting attending newbie, that almost sounds like a good way to do it.

Many of us, when we're new, suddenly find ourselves seeing the world and the people in it in terms of the disease. Everywhere we look, we see people who are drunks or addicts. We find ourselves telling other people they have a problem, that they need to sober up and start going to meetings. I remember telling my own mother she's a dry drunk. I think I even managed to phrase it politely, but that isn't the point.

Don't take others' inventory--that's the point. It takes a lot of time and a lot of personal growth through the program before we understand the best way to go about helping others into it. A little bit of knowledge can be a dangerous thing. We can fall into the trap of thinking that, because we’ve found the answer for us, we know the answer for everyone. Suddenly, we can find ourselves going around and telling everyone what they need to do, how to live their lives. We’ve learned a little bit about the program, but haven’t learned the fullness of that knowledge.

The first step isn’t about just accepting the powerlessness of our addiction, it’s about accepting our powerlessness over all the things we can’t control. That includes other people, places, things. It’s not our place to tell someone else what to do with their lives or how to live. When we do, we’re just feeding the disease all over again by trying to control something we can’t.

We are like children when we’re new. Our emotional maturity isn’t there yet. So we receive an amazing gift, a powerful gift, and we can end up turning around and using it like a loaded gun on the people in our lives. Before we’ve worked our way through the steps, we’re still living as we always have, full of character defects, and without serenity.

Recovery isn't a weapon, it's a gift. We can't give it away by beating someone over the head with it. We can talk about ourselves, our own experience, what it used to be like and what working the program has done for us. But we can't force anyone to 'get' the program. Any time we do, we’re falling into one of the disease’s oldest traps—trying to control. Recovery teaches us a different way: stop trying to control. Let go. Maybe it’s our opinion that someone in our life needs the program, needs to get sober. It might even be true. But it’s not our place to force them into it. It may sound cruel, but it is far better to let someone hit their bottom. Then they’ll be ready to change. They’ll be teachable.

We help when we’re asked to help. It’s the asking that shows someone is truly ready.

"Can't Sleep?"

Wow. Okay, so I got the new bed, right? I've been sleeping on it these past few nights and have been having some seriously intense dreams. Even the night before I got it, when I used the new down pillows, I had a good sleep, woke up feeling rested, having had some seriously vivid dreams. It almost makes me wonder if my old bed & pillows had been cursed. Yeah, that's a joke. Sort of.

I'm a big believer in the importance of dreams. Studies have shown that dreaming is the writing of new information into the long-term memory. It's a sign that the new things you're learning are being understood. Most people who have taken a foreign language know about this. Even when I took French in high school, all the talk was about how you'll know you're getting the language in your head when you start dreaming in it.

There are a whole spate of dream interpretation books out there. Personally, I have a website in my bookmarks that I check frequently to see the meaning of my dream symbolism. It can be a bit of a Rorschach test, where you fill in the gaps with your own imagination and make meaning out of something that doesn't necessarily have any. Even so, I've found it useful and insightful to analyze my dreams--even when they're nightmares. And after those first couple nights, I did do. No major revelations.

Today, though, after the fourth night in a row of heavy dreaming, it occurs to me just how bad my old bed was. Like, I wasn't getting good sleep!! Hello? So, yeah, it's a good thing to be getting good sleep. Seriously good. It's reminded me of those early days of getting sober. One thing about us heavy pot users is that the weed suppresses dream sleep. When we stop using, we start dreaming again with a vengeance. Incredibly vivid dreams. This is once we're able to get to sleep again, of course, which for many of us takes a while.

It was a couple of months of being clean before I started sleeping through the night, but the dreams started up almost right away. I kept a dream journal and wrote out in long detail everything my unconscious had churned through. Keeping the journal fell off a while back, but I still love trying to decipher the meaning of those crazy dreams. The brain doesn't stop working when we're asleep. I enjoy figuring out what mine has been up to. It gives me insight into the progress I'm making in all aspects of my life. It helps me to be in better touch with my fears, too.

Something else I remember is the using dreams. Whoa. They can be pretty damn intense. Weed was represented in my dreams by everything from evil green monsters trying to get me, to a bubbling toxic ooze flowing through all rooms of my house. I had a lot of using dreams at first, and now only get them every once in a great while. The experience is still the same when I do, though. They seem so real and I go through the whole drama of thinking I've relapsed, realizing I need to resign my service positions, pass my sponsees on to someone else, etc. After I wake up, it can take a bit for my head to clear and me to really accept that it was just a dream. It's a relief, but I always feel like I escaped a close call.

People talk in meetings about using dreams; it's not something that just happens to us potheads. In our MA literature, it talks about them as a natural part of the detox process. The best advice I ever heard on the subject was to give it up to your higher power. Tired of the using dreams? Pray about it. Ask for it to be lifted. I tried it and it works. When I was getting sober, I knew the dreams would be coming back and I was terrified they would be nightmares. So I prayed about it and my prayers were answered--no nightmares.

Any doctor will tell you that getting a good night's sleep is vital to functioning well during the day. Any addict will tell you that you're not going to get a good night's sleep when you're first getting clean. And that's okay. This, too, shall pass.

"New Bed"

This is one of those “what it’s like now” stories.

I’m very fortunate to have parents who are doing well, financially. They aren’t rich, not by a long shot, but they’re doing well enough to help me out as I’ve been struggling with being unemployed. They plan their finances well so that they can buy one ‘big’ Christmas gift for my sister and me each year.

This year, they offered to replace my old bed. They gave me a price range and I went to Ikea to try out mattresses. I found one that felt great that was low enough in price that I could pick up a frame and the support slats as well. I found out how much the delivery charges would be and sent my folks an email breaking down the full cost with tax. On Saturday, we went out and got everything.

Delivery was made the next day, Sunday, and I started putting it all together. For those who aren’t aware, Ikea furniture is all do-it-yourself assembly. Personally, I enjoy putting my furniture together. There’s just something about it. Call it strange, but I feel more connected. It must be a throwback to when I was a kid and was always taking everything apart. The bed frame went together, piece of cake, but something seemed strange about it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I set to work on the slats that sat in the frame and made up the base.

Oh. My. God.

It took forever. Hundreds of pieces. Hours and hours of work. I think I was about a third of the way through when I thought to myself it was a good thing I’d done the frame first, otherwise I never would have finished and would have just given up and slept on the couch for the night. Of course, if I was still getting high, I never would have finished. It probably would have taken me days, or a week for all I know.

The slats were in two halves that, once assembled, hooked together. After I finished the first set, I noticed that they seemed a little wide. I laid the one half into the frame and saw with dismay that they covered about two thirds of the base. I’d ended up with the wrong bed frame. I stepped back into the hall to check the box the frame had come in and, sure enough, I’d ended up with a double-sized bed frame and not a queen. Shit. It looked like I was going to be sleeping on the couch after all.

The next part is really interesting to me, actually. The old ‘fuck-it’ thinking came up and I was about to say forget it to doing the rest of the slats, that I’d just sleep on the couch since there was no point to finishing since I couldn’t put it all together, but then a different kind of ‘fuck-it’ came to my mind. I said to myself, “fuck-it, I’m going to finish anyway.”

I disassembled the bed frame and stacked it out in the hall. The second half of the slats went together much quicker from my figuring out how to do the first half. I put them together and laid them down. The mattress was a queen (thank God!) and I set it down on the slats. Mattress pad, sheets, quilt and pillows all went on. I made the bed up and laid down on it. Ahhhhh… I slept well that night, proud of myself.

In the midst of all this, I got a call from Ikea that my folks had been overcharged for the order. I told them I’d be in the next day to deal with it. After all, I had to go in anyway to exchange the frame.

Yesterday, I found myself looking at the bed frame with dread. Ugh--return lines. Bleah. I took the headboard downstairs and out to my car where I discovered (wouldn’t ya know) that it didn’t fit in my car. Shit. No cause for panic, though. My folks have my old pickup truck. So I drove out to their house, switched vehicles, and went back to my apartment. I loaded up all the pieces of the bed frame, even going so far as to lay a sheet down so that they wouldn’t get damaged and would be in good condition for the return.

Inside the store, the clerk told me that normally they don’t take returns if the boxes have been opened. Shit. Then she said it looked ‘damaged’ and that she’d take it anyway, considering the circumstances. She gave me store credit, as well as store credit for the overcharge. I thanked her. She listed out the location in the stock of where the queen-size frame was.

Ikea is a pick-and-pull kind of place. All the pieces in their showroom have tags telling you where the furniture is stored. You write down these aisle and bin numbers, then pull the boxes yourself and go check out. When I got to the location where the queen frames were stored, I checked the labels carefully to make sure I was getting the correct size. They all said ‘double’. No wonder I had the wrong frame--they’d stocked the incorrect size!

I found the clerk who’d helped me with the exchange and showed her the problem. She thanked me and got on her radio to get someone out with a forklift. Then she tracked down where the queen size frames were actually stocked. I loaded up my boxes and went to the check out. With the extra store credit from the overcharge, I was able to get the queen size frame without having to pay any extra. After dropping the boxes back at my apartment, I drove back out to my folks and switched cars again.

Back home, the new frame went together as easily as the other had. I laid the slats down inside and they fit like a glove. I slid the bed on top and made it up. Victorious, I laid down and breathed a sigh of relief. Ahhh…

Now, what makes this a “what it’s like now” story isn’t what I’ve said here, it’s what I haven’t said. Nowhere in any of this did I dissolve into a hissy fit or a shouting match. I didn’t yell at Ikea for the overcharge or the mistake in the stock. I wasn’t happy about having to go through all this rigmarole, but I did it calmly and without incident. And, actually, with a minimum amount of swearing to boot. In fact, I probably laughed more than I swore. Because, ya know, life is just like this!

My old way of dealing with all of this would have been to have a tantrum, to do everything I could to berate Ikea, and to wallow in self-pity about how shit always happens and it always happens to me all the fucking time. It’s not like that for me anymore. The most amazing part is that I didn’t even counsel myself not to do those things. My natural reaction was to have a little bit of an ‘argh!’ moment, then shrug my shoulders. Then I took action and dealt with the situation. I did it--without thinking--with patience, calmly and rationally.

I’m really happy with my new bed. I’m probably even happier with it because I did have to go through an ordeal to get it. It looks nice and feels great to sleep on. But more than that, it’s become yet another symbol of the continuing improvement in me, in my life. It’s one more example of the proof that working the program has been good for me. Even a normie would have been challenged to go through all that with a calm temper. For me, it was natural. Just another miracle.

"Stick With The Winners"

When I first started going to meetings, I was told to ‘stick with the winners’--whatever that meant. I remember something about finding people with more than two years, and finding people who the program was working for. Looking back, what I was probably told was to find people who were working a program. What does it mean to work the program? It means doing those things everyone always says to do: go to meetings, get a sponsor, work the steps, be of service, help others. What does it mean to be a ‘winner’? That's not as easy to answer.

There are some vague answers. Look for someone with that light shining in their eye--it’s the glean of having a new lease on life, the glow of having had a spiritual experience. You could say look for people who are happy, joyous, and free, but I know that wouldn't have worked for me. When I was a newcomer, I thought the people who were happy were full of shit. I didn't believe anyone could be happy. I didn't trust people who were nice to me. If they were, I thought something was seriously wrong with them.

I have a little bit of a problem with the word ‘winner’. To call some people ‘winners’ says to me that others are losers. I don’t believe that kind of thinking is helpful to the Recovery process. God knows I didn't feel like a winner when I first walked through the doors. Even now, I can’t claim to feel like a ‘winner’. The word is a total misnomer. Other people might feel differently, but for me, the closest word I would pick is ‘lucky’. Maybe ‘damn lucky’. Or maybe even ‘lucky-ass sonofabitch’. There is the temptation, too, to go overboard into Denial-Happy-Land and say that we’re all winners. Well, tra-la-la!!

When we walk into the rooms, we don’t have healthy instincts. Our impulses have been ravaged by the disease. We pick friends, lovers, and associates who aren’t good for us. We have yet to develop the skill of choosing people to have in our lives that are good for us. Heeding that advice of getting to know ‘the winners’ is a good thing, but when we're new, our ability to pick out the winners is practically zero. To make matters worse, the people who fit the description are alien to us, foreign. We’re used to misery; we don’t trust peace and serenity. We think it’s a myth or an illusion at best.

So take it back to the basics: why did we step into the rooms of Recovery? To find a way to live without being loaded. How do we do that? We learn from the people who have. We ask them what they have done, and we do as they did. The more time someone has, the more likely it is that what they do works.

We talked about ‘sticking with the winners’ at my meeting last night. I found myself thinking that I am one of the winners. Looking at it through a certain lens, I can see that it’s true. I’ve put together over two years of time. I have a sponsor, I sponsor others. I work the steps and I’m of service. The program has worked for me--because I’ve worked it. But I’m still uncomfortable with the label of being a ‘winner’. It might be lingering self-esteem issues, or it might be a humility thing.

Or maybe I just prefer to think of myself as a lucky sonofabitch.

"Being Honest About Defects"

"I'm an easygoing guy." Translation: I'm lazy. Today's JFT is about being honest with ourselves about our defects. It's a huge point. If we aren't honest with ourselves about the objectionable aspects of our character, why would try to change them? Why would we ask our higher power to remove something if we don't think it's a problem?

Looking at our defects is tough business. Being honest with ourselves about who we really are isn't easy. We are prone to denial. Lying to ourselves about ourselves was a way of life for us, often times for many, many years. We take the first stab at piercing that veil of denial when we admit we are addicts/alcoholics. We begin practicing the spiritual principle of Honesty when we take the first step. We keep on practicing it as we continue working the other steps.

We learn to practice a particular kind of honesty--rigorous honesty. Not brutal honesty, and definitely not the kind of honesty where we hide things to 'protect' other people from pain or sorrow. We don't stop practicing rigorous honesty when we start looking at our character defects. The temptation is there of course. We may want to gloss over things, or make others out to be worse than they really are. Pretending our defects aren't that bad means we won't work to change them. Being too hard on ourselves means we won't be treating ourselves with love.

I have my defects. Laziness is one, for sure. Low self-esteem is another. Perfectionism is in there, too. But if I'm not honest with myself, I can't do anything about them because I've got myself locked into a head space where I think nothing's wrong. We say it all the time: the program isn't easy, but it is simple. It's not easy to look at myself and see my worse qualities. It's not easy to admit that I need to change--even now. I am a work in progress and always will be. And that's okay!

Last week, I gave a presentation in one my classes where I talked about my experience dealing with depression, seeing therapists, and psychiatrists over the years. One of my classmates gave me props afterwards, commending on my courage and strength for being able to stand up before the entire class and speak about something so personal. It's not that I wasn't afraid to do it. I was. I got up there and did it anyway. I tend to forget that I'm a man of strength and courage. It's part of my self-esteem defect, that I don't like thinking of myself as having good qualities.

Yesterday, I had coffee with a friend. As we were saying our goodbyes, she commented on how clear it is that I'm doing well--even though I might feel like I'm not. It was yet another reminder to me of how I focus on the bad things instead of giving myself credit for the good. I may be unemployed, but I'm keeping busy and making good use of my time. God knows I wouldn't have been able to do nearly as much work on getting my music out there if I was working.

The spiritual principles of steps six and seven, where we deal with our character defects, are willingness and humility. It's about becoming right-sized. We continue to look honestly at ourselves. We get better at assessing ourselves as we really are, not who we think we are or who we want others to think we are. Looking at our character defects honestly is just another part of the process.

"Imagine"

Yeah, okay, so, like, I admit it... I'm a Star Trek geek. I love the whole cannon--how it's such a rich and full fictional universe. I know the characters, the species, and have more future historical dates memorized than I do actual real dates from the past. My favorite of the series is Deep Space Nine and, yes, I do have the complete show on video.

There are some big complaints out there about Trek. It's too cerebral. It paints too rosy a picture of the future. It's naive about human nature. I think people who feel that way are missing the point of Trek, the idea that exists at the very heart of it, which is the idea of a humanity which has matured. It's stories about a future when humanity has grown up, where we've learned certain things. Things like how every human being has an intrinsic worth and value regardless of color, creed, or anything else. We've left behind the days of "I'm better than you".

It's always seemed to me that, in this future, humanity has figured something else out, too. We've let go of self-centered aims and chosen instead to live under a philosophy of bettering ourselves and humanity as a whole. Monetary and material gains have become passé. People are honest, forthright, and responsible for themselves and their actions. Somehow, the culture of the future is one where everyone conducts themselves with integrity.

One of the more curious aspects of Star Trek is how genetic engineering is not a part of this future world. Trek's future history has a 'Eugenics War' in its past, but the society of that future does not genetically manipulate their children. They don't splice their genes to improve themselves, to make themselves stronger or smarter. The absence of such a science fiction staple is really noteworthy. There's even an episode of DS9 where one of the main characters is found out (in a shocking revelation!) to be genetically enhanced and the comment is made about how there hasn't been a case 'like this' for over a hundred years.

Some might consider this a huge omission, but I disagree. The fact that no one in Star Trek is genetically engineered fits into that universe perfectly in my mind. The future humans wouldn't be interested in enhancing themselves, just as they don't intoxicate themselves with substances. They're more interested in exploring themselves and the universe around them as they really are. They've found acceptance of themselves as human beings. As a result, the forces of fear no longer dominate their lives.

* * *

On more than one occasion, I've heard people share in meetings about how frustrating it can be that more people don't live by the spiritual principles of the program. I've said it myself. As people in Recovery, we do our best to be honest while accepting that many (maybe most) others aren't. We try to be our best selves while accepting that we live in a world full of people who don't. We work to better ourselves, and sometimes struggle to let go of the fact that others aren't doing the same. We don't live in the rooms. The world out there isn't like the rooms of Recovery.

Imagine what things could be like if it were.

"Rainy Night"

One of my favorite sayings: "It rains on the just and the unjust." My hometown here is under the weather tonight. It's coming down in waves and I'm tucked away in a coffee shop, sharing a table with some gals who are studying for their final exam in Intro French. I'm meeting some friends here and am a little bit concerned about finding a place for us to sit. It's pretty crowded. As I wait, I listen to the gals attempts at proper pronunciation and remember how it took me three times to get a passing grade in French when I took it 15 years ago.

So, the rain falls on the just and the unjust, yes? To me, it means that shit happens to everyone. No matter who you are, what your life is like, rich or poor, happy and healthy or otherwise. There are good days and there are bad days. It's called life.

When I was a kid, somewhere around ten or twelve, I was at a weekend camp with some other kids from a local church. We got to the campsite and the rain was coming down so thick that we could barely see in front of us. Instead of reporting for orientation, we took off exploring. We found a river nearby with a rickety footbridge. The dares to cross it began and somehow I ended up accepting the challenge first. It was pitch black. Our flashlights couldn't even penetrate the wilderness on the other side of the river. I strode out onto the bridge. It swayed in the wind and all of us wondered if it would break while I stood out there on the middle of it. I shone my flashlight down and the terror in my heart jumped up to my throat as I saw the rushing waters far below. I felt so alive. Eventually we heard the adults shouting off in the distance for us to return before they called our parents.

Even now, I still love the rain. When it comes, people scatter. They rush indoors, almost like they're fleeing from a shelling of bombs. I chuckle when I see it happen. It's only water--the lifeblood of all living things. Still, they run, afraid they'll melt like the witch in the Wizard of Oz. Each year, when the seasons change, I make a point of standing outside in the first good storm. There's something about being outside, feeling the water drops pelt my face, that continues to makes me feel alive. Every once in awhile, I'll meet someone who tells me how they always go outside and dance in first rain of the fall, and I smile, hearing it, because I know exactly how they feel.

What does all this have to do with Recovery? Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. It's good to feel alive, instead of the dead I felt in my stoned stupor. It's the simple pleasures in life that are most important, things like standing outside in the rain, or being inside and watching it fall, or lying in bed at night and listening to the sound of it hit against the window. The program calls on us to be more aware of a power greater than ourselves. It teaches us to be present in the moment. When the weather is like this, I find those things easy to do.

I'm not sure if it's ironic, odd, or neither, but I often feel the most at peace when the weather is raging. All our attempts to control, all the things we do to tame our environment. We spend our days in artificially constructed buildings with our air conditioning. We drive from place to place in our temperature-controlled cars. Mother Earth doesn't care about it one bit. The weather still comes, and it comes with a force greater than anything we can counter. It's a comforting thought, to me, of things beyond our control. Whether I stand out in the rain or watch it from inside, I feel connected.

"Money"

I was having fellowship at a local coffee shop after a meeting the other night. There were five of us and we took over a corner of the place. Depending on what kind of a mood we're all in and how good the meeting was, we can get a little loud sometimes. We haven't ever been kicked out, but I think it would be hilarious if we were. I mean, think about it--being sober and asked to leave? As opposed to being asked to leave because we're too fucked up? If it ever does happen, you'll read about here :)

Our conversations are usually Recovery-oriented, but they can go all over the place. Someone mentioned a reality show they saw on TV. Several of us in the group had to be brought up to speed, either because we don't watch reality shows or don't watch TV period (like myself). We talked about how fake reality TV shows are, how they're edited down and the producers only show you what they want you to see. Someone in the group mentioned that on a lot of reality shows, the crew buy drinks for the cast, encouraging them to get drunk so that there's more drama and that the show's more exciting. That led us to talk about shows like 'Intervention' and the other rehab & recovery related programs.

Now as I mentioned, I don't watch TV, but I have talked with many people who watch those shows and think they're great. One of my sponsees is a big fan of Dr. Drew. Personally, I don't like the idea of anyone capitalizing off of 12-steps. I think of it as a violation of the Traditions, but more than that I feel that one of the main reasons 12-steps works is specifically because you don't have to pay gobs of money for it. With all the commercialism in our culture, all the emphasis on buying things, the spiritual is something that so often gets dropped by the wayside. You can't buy faith. You can't buy God.

We were all debating this subject. Some felt as I did. Others thought the TV shows were good because they spread awareness, that they’re a valid way to carry the message. I disagreed; no matter what else a TV show might do, it's primary purpose is to make money, not to heal the spirits of broken souls suffering from the disease. I mentioned my blog and how Google is always giving me the opportunity to monetize it and sell advertising space. I never will. I don't write this blog to make money, I do it to share my experience, strength and hope. Writing this blog is about keeping myself sober and helping others to find what I have found--the same reasons as why I go to meetings.

As I was making this point, the following came out of my mouth: "We don't go to get rich, we go to get better." We all stopped for a brief moment. I'd crystallized it. That was the heart of the matter, right there.

It frustrates me so much that our culture has such a hard-on for making everything into a commodity. It wouldn't surprise me if one day we have the ‘opportunity’ to pay more for better air so we don't have to breathe that crappy "free" air. I don't like mega-churches that bring in big bucks. I really don't like old cathedrals covered in jewels and gold. To me, the spiritual is something that can't be bought.

The Traditions exist for a reason. The founders of AA arrived at them through trial and error and found that they work, and they discovered that charging people for this spiritual program doesn’t work so good. Meetings make just enough money to keep afloat, with maybe a little extra to pass on to the larger organizations. People can come in to a meeting and get the help they need without any obligation. If they want to, they can contribute a dollar or two. There's no admission fee. You don't have to pay your sponsor to take you through the twelve steps. You don't collect a salary for being General Secretary. As it is with the steps, we do it like this for a reason--because it works.