I’ve heard people in Recovery talk about the need to approach others with an unconditional positive regard. This subject (in a way) came up in my social psychology class this week. The class was talking about the movement in education and child-rearing toward showering children with positive comments: “you're the greatest”, “you can do anything”, etc. The professor said that this can help a child’s self-esteem, but most of the time what happens instead is the kids get this positive message at home, then go out into the world and discover that it isn’t true. Instead of learning good self-esteem, what they learn is that their parents are liars.
I heard this comment and thought, “welcome to my world.”
With the best of intentions, my parents told me all sorts of things along those lines. I got the distinct message that I was special. Then I went out into the world and couldn’t understand why the world didn’t recognize my special-ness. I mean, fuck, didn’t they know who I am?!
It took some time and some hard knocks for life to beat into me how only people who actually ARE special are lifted up, not just those who think they are or whose mommy’s told them so. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not shitting on the idea of supporting your kids. Praising them for their success is important. So is telling them you’re proud of their achievements. No, what I object to is lavish praise and reward without merit. Why? Long-time readers... all together now...
It’s dishonest.
Why do so many people think the world owes them something? Because they’ve learned that they will receive rewards for doing nothing, or at least very little. Some people think that folks pull harder when they’re part of a team (the psych analogy talks about a tug-of-war) but the real truth is that people don’t work as hard when part of a team, not the other way around. But I digress.
I’m usually of the opinion that honesty is the best policy--regardless. Even if it’s your kids. If I ever am fortunate enough to have children of my own, their mother and I will no doubt have some seriously heated debates about Santa Claus. Honesty is hard, of course it is, but I truly believe that it is always possible to be honest. We don’t have to sugarcoat things. We can find a way to speak truths to each other in love. Telling kids that they’re the best? Not good, in my book. Telling them that if they work hard they can be the best? Also not the greatest idea. So how about telling your children that all they can do is their best, and that that is the ideal to strive for.
I was talking with one of my sponsees the other day about this idea of perfection, and he made the comment about how, growing up, he was taught that he should always do his best, but that his best was expected to be ‘perfect’. I told him there is only one ‘perfect’ of which I am aware--his higher power.
When I was a kid, I was terrible at sports. I played soccer during the summers, and no matter what our team placed in competition, we all ended up with trophies at the end of the season. Everyone on the team got the same trophy, which meant that I got the same trophy as the kid who had scored the most goals even though I never scored a single one. I hated those damn trophies.
In the rooms of Recovery, we don’t get trophies. We get keychains and sobriety tokens. And we get them only when we have done the hard work and achieved the actual goal. I’m a firm believer in ‘no frontsies’. If someone announces they have a sobriety birthday coming up in the next few days, I nod politely but I don’t clap. When their birthday has passed, when they have reached that milestone and walk up to receive the small token of reward, then I praise them.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
"Back At School"
It's about 8:30 am. I'm back at school, starting today, with a full day ahead of me. It's the next step in the long-term goal of becomming a therapist. This semester it's three classes--Statistics, Social Psychology, and Issues of Diverse populations. First class starts at nine. The parking here in the morning can be a real zoo, but I hauled my lazy-ass out of bed and made it here by a little after eight. Not bad for a jobless recovering addict.
I'm feeling alright. I took some meditation/prayer time this morning to check in and discovered I was feeling pretty good, centered. It feels good to have something of a schedule, even if rising from my bed this early tends to put me on the cranky side of things. I'm hopeful that I'll have some better teachers this time around, and am a bit more optimistic and my subjects. It's back to just Psychology.
I think I'll update throughout the day here. Mainly cause my brain isn't quite up and running yet. And it's pretty cold right now.
***
Two classes down, one to go. I've got a two-hour break right now and I'm trying to decide if it's worth it to me to go home and come back. Probably not. I was waitlisted for these first two classes and got into both. I like both the teachers and I feel myself cheering up at being back to studying psychology. I really enjoy it a lot. Having good teachers leads me to a big 'thankyoujesus' sigh as well. It's frustrating as hell to sit through a bad instructor.
Not much to say about the second class--Social Psych. It was packed, but the instructor said he's going to add everyone. I'll have to be sure to get there early enough to get a seat. The first class, Statistcs, that one was interesting. Not because of the class.
Waiting outside, I bumped into an ex-girlfriend. Haven't seen her in a while. Maybe a year. And we didn't part on good terms. But we were friendly to each other, polite. The conversation wasn't terribly deep, and that's okay. Nice to see that I continue to grow and mature. It occured to me to ask her if she was still seing my ex-best friend, but I just let that idea pass out of my mind as soon as it came in. It doesn't really matter anyway. Things in the past can stay in the past. Maybe time has healed that wound better than I thought it had.
When I sat down, I noticed the girl in front of me. Not because she was good looking (she was okay) but because I spotted her as a cutter. She was dressed very... I don't know, average. Slightly dumpy. With a gray knit hat on her head. On her arms though, were elaborate, laced braces. Black, a few items of silver jewelery attached. I didn't stare or speak to her or anything, just noticed them. I suppose it's always possible that she wears them to cover up scars, maybe even suicide attempt scars, or maybe some other reason entirely, but the energy I felt was very much that of a cutter. I wonder how many other people out there would recognize it? Other cutters, I'm sure, would pick it up. Normal folks, people who've never harmed themselves, wouldn't have the faintest clue.
It's been a long time since I burned cigarettes against my legs, but I still understand that self-mutilation impulse. I still have about a dozen scars, with more which have faded. I've talked to others who harm themselves about it. I tell them how I hope the scars never fully go away. They are a reminder to me of what it used to be like and how far I've come. And they show others who do the same, that they aren't alone and that someone else understands.
I'm feeling alright. I took some meditation/prayer time this morning to check in and discovered I was feeling pretty good, centered. It feels good to have something of a schedule, even if rising from my bed this early tends to put me on the cranky side of things. I'm hopeful that I'll have some better teachers this time around, and am a bit more optimistic and my subjects. It's back to just Psychology.
I think I'll update throughout the day here. Mainly cause my brain isn't quite up and running yet. And it's pretty cold right now.
***
Two classes down, one to go. I've got a two-hour break right now and I'm trying to decide if it's worth it to me to go home and come back. Probably not. I was waitlisted for these first two classes and got into both. I like both the teachers and I feel myself cheering up at being back to studying psychology. I really enjoy it a lot. Having good teachers leads me to a big 'thankyoujesus' sigh as well. It's frustrating as hell to sit through a bad instructor.
Not much to say about the second class--Social Psych. It was packed, but the instructor said he's going to add everyone. I'll have to be sure to get there early enough to get a seat. The first class, Statistcs, that one was interesting. Not because of the class.
Waiting outside, I bumped into an ex-girlfriend. Haven't seen her in a while. Maybe a year. And we didn't part on good terms. But we were friendly to each other, polite. The conversation wasn't terribly deep, and that's okay. Nice to see that I continue to grow and mature. It occured to me to ask her if she was still seing my ex-best friend, but I just let that idea pass out of my mind as soon as it came in. It doesn't really matter anyway. Things in the past can stay in the past. Maybe time has healed that wound better than I thought it had.
When I sat down, I noticed the girl in front of me. Not because she was good looking (she was okay) but because I spotted her as a cutter. She was dressed very... I don't know, average. Slightly dumpy. With a gray knit hat on her head. On her arms though, were elaborate, laced braces. Black, a few items of silver jewelery attached. I didn't stare or speak to her or anything, just noticed them. I suppose it's always possible that she wears them to cover up scars, maybe even suicide attempt scars, or maybe some other reason entirely, but the energy I felt was very much that of a cutter. I wonder how many other people out there would recognize it? Other cutters, I'm sure, would pick it up. Normal folks, people who've never harmed themselves, wouldn't have the faintest clue.
It's been a long time since I burned cigarettes against my legs, but I still understand that self-mutilation impulse. I still have about a dozen scars, with more which have faded. I've talked to others who harm themselves about it. I tell them how I hope the scars never fully go away. They are a reminder to me of what it used to be like and how far I've come. And they show others who do the same, that they aren't alone and that someone else understands.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
“My God Does Not Have A Penis”
Hehe. Yep, that really is my blog title for this entry.
For those who don’t read this blog often enough to know, I am what some would describe as a hippie commie pinko liberal. Fortunately, my political beliefs have been tempered by a strong spiritual practice and I no longer go around telling others what morons they are for believing differently than I do. I’ve even managed to ascend to the wizened level of someone who can accept others’ beliefs and allow myself discourse and debate about ideas I hold precious. I can even do it with those who feel the opposite as I do, all without feeling the need to convince them they’re wrong or feeling my own beliefs threatened.
In other words, I am free to be me and others are free to be themselves. It is the strength I gain from letting others be themselves that gives me the confidence to be myself.
One thing I disagree with is those who refer to God as a ‘him’. I know that for many people, the image of a God-The-Father is a deeply held perspective. To them, He is their true Father, the highest authority in their life. They must obey Him, follow His word, do as He says to do, etc. I suppose, for the record, I need to say that I don‘t like referring to God as a woman either. If I were to call God a woman, I’d be making exactly the same mistake. I’d be attributing human characteristics to something that I don't think of as merely human.
For some, the image of a male God, a God-The-Father, is offensive. I think most often of women who were raped, molested, or abused by their own fathers. To a lesser extent, some reject the idea of an authority figure who hands down instructions from on high. I tend to fall into this category; I’m not fond of authority figures in general. I tend to believe we are all equal and that no one person is better than another for any reason. This includes: wealth, power, spiritual advanced-ness, and so on. I feel very strongly that a lot of the problems in the world stem from the idea of rankism--that “I am better than you because [reason]”.
My higher power is not male. My higher power isn’t even really both male and female. The God I believe in doesn’t exist up in Heaven. The God I believe in is in me, in you, in the trees, the sky, the chair, the carpet, and the air circling around us and through our lungs. We are in God and God is in us. My higher power is a God that is everywhere, always, in all things.
I still feel that one of the most amazing and powerful aspects of the 12-step program is that it doesn’t simply allow for but in fact encourages us to discover a God of our own understanding. That’s just plain genius, in my opinion. And, ironically enough, in learning the history of Alcoholics Anonymous, I’ve discovered that it was the atheist members in the early days that insisted on that language.
My higher power is an Infinite All. It works for me. What someone else believes is of little consequence. I have a higher power working in my life. I enjoy sharing with others about what each of our relationships with our higher power is like. I’ve no need to force anyone else to believe as I do. If it works for you to have a God with a penis, then fine. As long as it works for you, that’s the point: to allow ourselves to be guided by a loving higher power. Our relationship with that higher power is going to be as individualized as we are.
For those who don’t read this blog often enough to know, I am what some would describe as a hippie commie pinko liberal. Fortunately, my political beliefs have been tempered by a strong spiritual practice and I no longer go around telling others what morons they are for believing differently than I do. I’ve even managed to ascend to the wizened level of someone who can accept others’ beliefs and allow myself discourse and debate about ideas I hold precious. I can even do it with those who feel the opposite as I do, all without feeling the need to convince them they’re wrong or feeling my own beliefs threatened.
In other words, I am free to be me and others are free to be themselves. It is the strength I gain from letting others be themselves that gives me the confidence to be myself.
One thing I disagree with is those who refer to God as a ‘him’. I know that for many people, the image of a God-The-Father is a deeply held perspective. To them, He is their true Father, the highest authority in their life. They must obey Him, follow His word, do as He says to do, etc. I suppose, for the record, I need to say that I don‘t like referring to God as a woman either. If I were to call God a woman, I’d be making exactly the same mistake. I’d be attributing human characteristics to something that I don't think of as merely human.
For some, the image of a male God, a God-The-Father, is offensive. I think most often of women who were raped, molested, or abused by their own fathers. To a lesser extent, some reject the idea of an authority figure who hands down instructions from on high. I tend to fall into this category; I’m not fond of authority figures in general. I tend to believe we are all equal and that no one person is better than another for any reason. This includes: wealth, power, spiritual advanced-ness, and so on. I feel very strongly that a lot of the problems in the world stem from the idea of rankism--that “I am better than you because [reason]”.
My higher power is not male. My higher power isn’t even really both male and female. The God I believe in doesn’t exist up in Heaven. The God I believe in is in me, in you, in the trees, the sky, the chair, the carpet, and the air circling around us and through our lungs. We are in God and God is in us. My higher power is a God that is everywhere, always, in all things.
I still feel that one of the most amazing and powerful aspects of the 12-step program is that it doesn’t simply allow for but in fact encourages us to discover a God of our own understanding. That’s just plain genius, in my opinion. And, ironically enough, in learning the history of Alcoholics Anonymous, I’ve discovered that it was the atheist members in the early days that insisted on that language.
My higher power is an Infinite All. It works for me. What someone else believes is of little consequence. I have a higher power working in my life. I enjoy sharing with others about what each of our relationships with our higher power is like. I’ve no need to force anyone else to believe as I do. If it works for you to have a God with a penis, then fine. As long as it works for you, that’s the point: to allow ourselves to be guided by a loving higher power. Our relationship with that higher power is going to be as individualized as we are.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
“Lil’ Pink Cloud”
My sister likes this comic strip called ‘Mutts’. It’s about a pet dog and cat. I’ve seen it and I admit, it is pretty darn cute. One of the recurring themes in it is the cat’s favorite toy--a little pink sock. Maybe readers of the strip will know the history of why the sock is special or where it comes from. I don’t, but I’ve certainly seen a cat go crazy about a special sock. Way too cute. Anyway, whenever the cat plays with it, it sings this song about “Lil’ Pink Sock”. The cat is happy, filled with deep purpose, totally consumed and content with its sock.
It reminds me a little of a saying we have in Recovery about being on a “Pink Cloud”. It’s the phrase we use to describe how it feels to be new in Recovery, on fire for the program, and jazzed beyond words for how it feels to be living clean and sober for the first time. It's kind of like being in love.
I don’t remember too much of my pink cloud. I won’t pretend that I didn’t have one, it’s just that in those early days, I was still detoxing. The world was still much of a haze to me until all the stuff had finally worked its way out of my system. I do remember being quick to point out others’ faults and having the amazing ability to tell when someone else was an addict/alcoholic. Which is to say, I thought everyone was one and needed to work a 12-step program. Ah, hubris. Thank God for other people in the program who were there to teach me not to take others’ inventory. Thank God for the patience of those in my life who were patient with me until I’d calmed down into a more balanced perspective.
The pink cloud isn’t dangerous, per se, but it can be. Until we have worked through the steps, we still haven’t been restored to sanity. We don’t have enough experience dealing with life on life’s terms, with a sober perspective, to have good judgment yet. We are looking at the world through rose colored glasses. The disease is still in us, shaping our thoughts. We've only just begun to practice the principles of the program. But a little Recovery can set us on fire to the point that we think we know everything--or even just a few little things--for certain.
I’ve heard newcomers share about the excitement they feel, how great it is to be sober, how grateful they are for the program and all it has done for them. Which cracks me up. It’s awesome to hear someone talk about how on fire they are for Recovery, but when they talk about how they’re so on fire for it that they’re in it for life, I have to make sure I don’t laugh. Because if someone is talking about how they’re in it for life, they’re totally missing the point. This is a one day at a time program. Period. We don’t try to stay sober for life; we don’t try to work the program ‘til the end of our days.
We work the program on a daily basis. The program teaches us how to be in the moment, how to live in the now. It teaches us, too, that it’s not our place to proselytize. It’s not our job to determine what’s right for anyone else--just for ourselves. The Big Book of AA is very clear on this. We have not found ‘the’ way, only ‘a’ way. Our approach to others who suffer from the disease is not to say to them, “hey, you need to work the program!” It’s to say, “you know, I tried this thing and it worked for me. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to talk to you about it.”
The pink cloud doesn’t last (nothing does--‘this, too, shall pass’). Coming down from the pink cloud can be every bit as rough as coming down from a high, or having a wretched hangover. That’s when the real difficulty comes; that’s when we truly need the program. The newness fades, and we start putting the teachings of the program into practice. That’s when we find ourselves tested. We learn that we must reaffirm our commitment to the sober lifestyle on a daily basis.
Recovery is a journey. It’s a path that one walks, a path full of discovery. It is the path of the full range of human emotions and experiences. We can feel the highest highs, the deepest lows, and get through all of it without getting loaded. When the pink cloud fades, we discover that it is damn hard. And then it gets worse. Then it gets a little better. Then it gets a whole lot worse. Eventually, we start the slow climb of getting better. And if we stay on the path, we will keep climbing.
It reminds me a little of a saying we have in Recovery about being on a “Pink Cloud”. It’s the phrase we use to describe how it feels to be new in Recovery, on fire for the program, and jazzed beyond words for how it feels to be living clean and sober for the first time. It's kind of like being in love.
I don’t remember too much of my pink cloud. I won’t pretend that I didn’t have one, it’s just that in those early days, I was still detoxing. The world was still much of a haze to me until all the stuff had finally worked its way out of my system. I do remember being quick to point out others’ faults and having the amazing ability to tell when someone else was an addict/alcoholic. Which is to say, I thought everyone was one and needed to work a 12-step program. Ah, hubris. Thank God for other people in the program who were there to teach me not to take others’ inventory. Thank God for the patience of those in my life who were patient with me until I’d calmed down into a more balanced perspective.
The pink cloud isn’t dangerous, per se, but it can be. Until we have worked through the steps, we still haven’t been restored to sanity. We don’t have enough experience dealing with life on life’s terms, with a sober perspective, to have good judgment yet. We are looking at the world through rose colored glasses. The disease is still in us, shaping our thoughts. We've only just begun to practice the principles of the program. But a little Recovery can set us on fire to the point that we think we know everything--or even just a few little things--for certain.
I’ve heard newcomers share about the excitement they feel, how great it is to be sober, how grateful they are for the program and all it has done for them. Which cracks me up. It’s awesome to hear someone talk about how on fire they are for Recovery, but when they talk about how they’re so on fire for it that they’re in it for life, I have to make sure I don’t laugh. Because if someone is talking about how they’re in it for life, they’re totally missing the point. This is a one day at a time program. Period. We don’t try to stay sober for life; we don’t try to work the program ‘til the end of our days.
We work the program on a daily basis. The program teaches us how to be in the moment, how to live in the now. It teaches us, too, that it’s not our place to proselytize. It’s not our job to determine what’s right for anyone else--just for ourselves. The Big Book of AA is very clear on this. We have not found ‘the’ way, only ‘a’ way. Our approach to others who suffer from the disease is not to say to them, “hey, you need to work the program!” It’s to say, “you know, I tried this thing and it worked for me. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to talk to you about it.”
The pink cloud doesn’t last (nothing does--‘this, too, shall pass’). Coming down from the pink cloud can be every bit as rough as coming down from a high, or having a wretched hangover. That’s when the real difficulty comes; that’s when we truly need the program. The newness fades, and we start putting the teachings of the program into practice. That’s when we find ourselves tested. We learn that we must reaffirm our commitment to the sober lifestyle on a daily basis.
Recovery is a journey. It’s a path that one walks, a path full of discovery. It is the path of the full range of human emotions and experiences. We can feel the highest highs, the deepest lows, and get through all of it without getting loaded. When the pink cloud fades, we discover that it is damn hard. And then it gets worse. Then it gets a little better. Then it gets a whole lot worse. Eventually, we start the slow climb of getting better. And if we stay on the path, we will keep climbing.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
"Powerless vs. Powerful"
A friend of mine has a great quote on their facebook page. It’s been around a while, and I’ve seen it before. It talks about how our deepest fear isn't that we aren’t good enough, but that we are in fact powerful beyond our wildest dreams. I’ve seen different versions of this. My friend’s talks about how each of us has a light that shines with infinite brightness and how it doesn't do us or the world around us any good to hide our brilliance. And when we embrace the fullness of our beings, we inspire others to do the same.
At a recent book study meeting, we went over Step Seven. I talked about being right-sized before God and how, for me, that has meant not only giving up my character defects, but also embracing my strengths. For me, these two things don’t just go hand in hand, but are one and the same. My greatest defect is still my own sense of low self-worth.
I do believe very strongly in this idea that we all have the light of our higher power shining through us. It is the brightness of our true being--our spiritual selves. One of the things I love so much about Christian Gnosticism is they had the same concept. We are all spiritual beings experiencing reality as humans. “The kingdom of God is within you and all around you,” to quote the Gospel of Thomas. God (or whatever word you choose to talk about your higher power) is not something separate from us, nor us from it. God is a part of us and we are a part of God.
We have free will. We can choose to live our lives in any way we wish. To me, that’s the ultimate proof of God’s love for us. We can chose to live in the world on our own, doing it our way. For those of us with this disease, well, as the old saying goes, “That way lay madness.” We’ve learned too well that living life according to our own will can have disastrous consequences. Orienting ourselves with the power greater than ourselves, that’s when our spiritual energy flows. Instead of discord, there is harmony. Instead of chaos, there is peace and serenity.
Personally, I don’t always enjoy being reminded that I’m a child of God and deserve all the best. I spent many, many years considering myself the lowest of the low. I had some serious indoctrination when I was growing up that it’s bad to think good things about myself. And I’m not just talking about the religious influence, either. A lot of it came from being teased so much by other kids, from being different and not being able to relate. Giving up the idea that I’m not worth the air I breathe is still a struggle for me. Thanks to the program, it’s light-years better than it was, of course, but I won’t sit here and act like it’s not still an issue.
My sponsor is a big believer in balance, and that is what works best for me. Stay away from indulging the ego, keep trying to live according to God’s will and not my own. But also remember that I am a child of the Infinite All, that I am loved, precious, distinct and unique, with a value no one else shares. There is no other me in the world, and if I don’t let the light of my soul shine, it won’t be seen.
I am still powerless over my addiction; I still have the spiritual malady. I cannot be cured of the disease, but I can align myself with my higher power. I have the choice to live by spiritual principles and allow the brightness of my true self to shine. As do we all.
At a recent book study meeting, we went over Step Seven. I talked about being right-sized before God and how, for me, that has meant not only giving up my character defects, but also embracing my strengths. For me, these two things don’t just go hand in hand, but are one and the same. My greatest defect is still my own sense of low self-worth.
I do believe very strongly in this idea that we all have the light of our higher power shining through us. It is the brightness of our true being--our spiritual selves. One of the things I love so much about Christian Gnosticism is they had the same concept. We are all spiritual beings experiencing reality as humans. “The kingdom of God is within you and all around you,” to quote the Gospel of Thomas. God (or whatever word you choose to talk about your higher power) is not something separate from us, nor us from it. God is a part of us and we are a part of God.
We have free will. We can choose to live our lives in any way we wish. To me, that’s the ultimate proof of God’s love for us. We can chose to live in the world on our own, doing it our way. For those of us with this disease, well, as the old saying goes, “That way lay madness.” We’ve learned too well that living life according to our own will can have disastrous consequences. Orienting ourselves with the power greater than ourselves, that’s when our spiritual energy flows. Instead of discord, there is harmony. Instead of chaos, there is peace and serenity.
Personally, I don’t always enjoy being reminded that I’m a child of God and deserve all the best. I spent many, many years considering myself the lowest of the low. I had some serious indoctrination when I was growing up that it’s bad to think good things about myself. And I’m not just talking about the religious influence, either. A lot of it came from being teased so much by other kids, from being different and not being able to relate. Giving up the idea that I’m not worth the air I breathe is still a struggle for me. Thanks to the program, it’s light-years better than it was, of course, but I won’t sit here and act like it’s not still an issue.
My sponsor is a big believer in balance, and that is what works best for me. Stay away from indulging the ego, keep trying to live according to God’s will and not my own. But also remember that I am a child of the Infinite All, that I am loved, precious, distinct and unique, with a value no one else shares. There is no other me in the world, and if I don’t let the light of my soul shine, it won’t be seen.
I am still powerless over my addiction; I still have the spiritual malady. I cannot be cured of the disease, but I can align myself with my higher power. I have the choice to live by spiritual principles and allow the brightness of my true self to shine. As do we all.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
"Different Truths"
Yesterday, I was listening to a radio show. The guest was talking about different kinds of truths. One thing she said really struck me. I don't remember exactly how she put it, so I won't try to quote her, but she was saying that for artists the truth is more squirrelly. For some people the truth is clear-cut, simple, crystal clear. For artistic types (yes, I include myself in this group) it's more malleable. It reminded me of a line from one of my favorite movies, 'V For Vendetta'--artists tell lies to express the truth while politicians tell lies to cover it up.
Something I've learned in my life is that there isn't 'one' truth. What we consider to be 'true' depends so much on our own perspective. As a writer, I express in this blog the truths I discover in my life on a day to day basis. Undoubtedly, there are any number of people who disagree with me on any given point. We all have our own perspective on life; we all see the world in different ways. Sometimes this difference is small, sometimes enormous. But I tend to keep this idea in mind, that what is true for me might not be true for others. I'm not out to beat anyone over the head with what I think is right. The thoughts I write here are what I think, and if they are helpful to others, if other people enjoy reading them and find wisdom in these words, that is enough for me.
In my music, the idea of truth doesn't come up so much. Lately, my music has been instrumental--no words--but there is an emotional truth that I attempt to express. It's a different kind of truth, one of feeling instead of knowledge. I'm not a painter, but it seems to me that the visual artists have lots of choice when it comes to expressing truth. They can paint a picture of something real, or from something imaginary in their mind. They can paint a realistic portrait of someone who doesn't exist, or they can paint a distorted image of something real. I have written some fiction. Short stories, a couple novels. And it's in those times where the whole 'truth' idea gets twisted up in a fascinating way.
If you think about it for a moment, a fictional story is nothing more than a pack of lies. It's a story totally made up. Now, the author may draw from their own experiences to populate the pages of their work, but it's still exactly what it claims to be--a work of fiction. And yet, from those fictional words and sentences can emerge amazing truths. Truths about who we are, what it means to be human, about the world around us, and on and on. I've known many people who've cried at the death of a beloved character. Movies and TV can do the same thing to us. We are moved on intellectual and emotional levels by the 'truth' of what we've read or seen.
In the program, our path to discovering truth begins with Honesty. I remember, when still active in my addiction, one of the few times I went dry. I only made it a few days. Without the numbing effects of my substances, I was faced with several overwhelming truths I did not want to look at. I was miserable. I hated life. I hated the world. I didn't want to be with my wife. I hated myself. One of the reasons I was always loaded was specifically so I didn't have to face those truths. I didn't know how to deal with any of them. It was a relief to go back to the abyss of being numb.
I'm not going to say that it's comfortable bliss to fold myself up into truth and honesty. Sometimes it feels great. Sometimes it hurts like hell. I will say, though, that it does beat the alternative. There are no lasting truths to be found in being loaded all the time. As I've said before, the deep insights I had when getting high, I'm pretty sure now that I was just high. And in any event, I don't remember any of them.
When we work the steps, we start applying spiritual principles to our lives and truths are revealed to us. The first is that we have the disease. We admit to our deepest selves a fundamental truth about ourselves. We take more steps and learn more principles. We learn hope and faith and courage, and we learn more about the truth of who we are, how we have treated others and let them treat us. We practice integrity, willingness, love, justice, and forgiveness, and we learn that it is possible for people to change. We keep working the program and we discover the truth of how it feels to be free.
Something I've learned in my life is that there isn't 'one' truth. What we consider to be 'true' depends so much on our own perspective. As a writer, I express in this blog the truths I discover in my life on a day to day basis. Undoubtedly, there are any number of people who disagree with me on any given point. We all have our own perspective on life; we all see the world in different ways. Sometimes this difference is small, sometimes enormous. But I tend to keep this idea in mind, that what is true for me might not be true for others. I'm not out to beat anyone over the head with what I think is right. The thoughts I write here are what I think, and if they are helpful to others, if other people enjoy reading them and find wisdom in these words, that is enough for me.
In my music, the idea of truth doesn't come up so much. Lately, my music has been instrumental--no words--but there is an emotional truth that I attempt to express. It's a different kind of truth, one of feeling instead of knowledge. I'm not a painter, but it seems to me that the visual artists have lots of choice when it comes to expressing truth. They can paint a picture of something real, or from something imaginary in their mind. They can paint a realistic portrait of someone who doesn't exist, or they can paint a distorted image of something real. I have written some fiction. Short stories, a couple novels. And it's in those times where the whole 'truth' idea gets twisted up in a fascinating way.
If you think about it for a moment, a fictional story is nothing more than a pack of lies. It's a story totally made up. Now, the author may draw from their own experiences to populate the pages of their work, but it's still exactly what it claims to be--a work of fiction. And yet, from those fictional words and sentences can emerge amazing truths. Truths about who we are, what it means to be human, about the world around us, and on and on. I've known many people who've cried at the death of a beloved character. Movies and TV can do the same thing to us. We are moved on intellectual and emotional levels by the 'truth' of what we've read or seen.
In the program, our path to discovering truth begins with Honesty. I remember, when still active in my addiction, one of the few times I went dry. I only made it a few days. Without the numbing effects of my substances, I was faced with several overwhelming truths I did not want to look at. I was miserable. I hated life. I hated the world. I didn't want to be with my wife. I hated myself. One of the reasons I was always loaded was specifically so I didn't have to face those truths. I didn't know how to deal with any of them. It was a relief to go back to the abyss of being numb.
I'm not going to say that it's comfortable bliss to fold myself up into truth and honesty. Sometimes it feels great. Sometimes it hurts like hell. I will say, though, that it does beat the alternative. There are no lasting truths to be found in being loaded all the time. As I've said before, the deep insights I had when getting high, I'm pretty sure now that I was just high. And in any event, I don't remember any of them.
When we work the steps, we start applying spiritual principles to our lives and truths are revealed to us. The first is that we have the disease. We admit to our deepest selves a fundamental truth about ourselves. We take more steps and learn more principles. We learn hope and faith and courage, and we learn more about the truth of who we are, how we have treated others and let them treat us. We practice integrity, willingness, love, justice, and forgiveness, and we learn that it is possible for people to change. We keep working the program and we discover the truth of how it feels to be free.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
"Thoughts And Action"
Happy new year, all, and welcome to 2011. It's kind of crazy to me, seeing those numbers clock over. It makes me think of that joke about how if this is the future, where's my flying car? I'm down in Pacific Grove this weekend, getting ready to play piano for church services this morning. It's a rainy weekend, not just here, but for much of California. I'm staying at my friend's house, which is a short walk from the beach. I even took a moment last night to go down there and say hello to the ocean. There wasn't a car or another person in sight, just the inky blackness of the water, crested by pale waves. I thought of how nice the silence was, then chuckled at how, with the constant crashing ocean tides, it wasn't really silent at all.
Being the only human around is a good thing for me, from time to time, and something I don't get to enjoy very often. I'm someone who really needs time alone with his thoughts, time to examine what's happening on the inside. If I don't, the inner chatter doesn't stop, it just increases. Moments like the one from last night are a little like clearing off a cluttered desk. I sit down at a spot I sit at often, but instead of just doing the paperwork I normally do, instead of just getting done what needs done, I take the time to actually sort through things. I can see scraps left over I don't need anymore, finally give my attention to details I've been putting off, and throw out old unneeded and unwanted junk.
I'm reading a great book right now--"Fire In The Belly" by Sam Keen. It's about men and masculinity, both today and throughout history. The author has a great sense of humor and seems to me to have a wonderful grasp of the real. His book is well-researched and thoughtful, and it's been awhile since I've so many times recognized the 'truth' of someone's writing while reading. For any man who's ever wondered about what it means to be a man, I highly recommend it. For any woman, too, for that matter. From almost the first moment I started reading, I found myself liking the author, feeling that he understood not just me as a man, but knew the questions I asked inside, knew what drove me, understood my search inside. I've said to others that--if I still drank--this would be a guy I'd love to sit down and have a beer with.
He talks about so many subjects, so many different ways men have defined themselves and how they have found meaning in that old question of just what does it mean to be a man. One of them is the idea of a man as someone who looks inward, who examines himself. He takes the time to think about himself, who he is and why he does what he does. This part really spoke to me; that's a big part of my own manhood. I'm not materially successful; I'm flat-out terrible at sports (with one or two exceptions). But I have found great strength and courage from leading the examined life.
Men aren't necessarily supposed to be thinking creatures. Some of us have great difficulty in working the program because it asks us to do some major introspection. My sponsor likes to say (and I agree) that working the fourth step and taking the fifth is what really separates the men from the boys in Recovery. Sure, you're willing to admit you're powerless, ask for help and turn your life over to a higher power, but are you willing to look with a cold eye at your own shit? Are you willing to say, "yeah, there's some parts of me, who I am and how I live, that probably need to change"? Are you man enough to go on to the eighth and ninth steps, to admit the times you were wrong and try to make it up to those you've harmed?
All of the above requires thinking. Acting without thinking? That's the old way. Thinking without acting? Also no good anymore. Thinking, and then taking action--that's what it's like now. Not always, not every moment, but more often than not. To me, that's a big part of what it means to be a man: thoughtful action.
Being the only human around is a good thing for me, from time to time, and something I don't get to enjoy very often. I'm someone who really needs time alone with his thoughts, time to examine what's happening on the inside. If I don't, the inner chatter doesn't stop, it just increases. Moments like the one from last night are a little like clearing off a cluttered desk. I sit down at a spot I sit at often, but instead of just doing the paperwork I normally do, instead of just getting done what needs done, I take the time to actually sort through things. I can see scraps left over I don't need anymore, finally give my attention to details I've been putting off, and throw out old unneeded and unwanted junk.
I'm reading a great book right now--"Fire In The Belly" by Sam Keen. It's about men and masculinity, both today and throughout history. The author has a great sense of humor and seems to me to have a wonderful grasp of the real. His book is well-researched and thoughtful, and it's been awhile since I've so many times recognized the 'truth' of someone's writing while reading. For any man who's ever wondered about what it means to be a man, I highly recommend it. For any woman, too, for that matter. From almost the first moment I started reading, I found myself liking the author, feeling that he understood not just me as a man, but knew the questions I asked inside, knew what drove me, understood my search inside. I've said to others that--if I still drank--this would be a guy I'd love to sit down and have a beer with.
He talks about so many subjects, so many different ways men have defined themselves and how they have found meaning in that old question of just what does it mean to be a man. One of them is the idea of a man as someone who looks inward, who examines himself. He takes the time to think about himself, who he is and why he does what he does. This part really spoke to me; that's a big part of my own manhood. I'm not materially successful; I'm flat-out terrible at sports (with one or two exceptions). But I have found great strength and courage from leading the examined life.
Men aren't necessarily supposed to be thinking creatures. Some of us have great difficulty in working the program because it asks us to do some major introspection. My sponsor likes to say (and I agree) that working the fourth step and taking the fifth is what really separates the men from the boys in Recovery. Sure, you're willing to admit you're powerless, ask for help and turn your life over to a higher power, but are you willing to look with a cold eye at your own shit? Are you willing to say, "yeah, there's some parts of me, who I am and how I live, that probably need to change"? Are you man enough to go on to the eighth and ninth steps, to admit the times you were wrong and try to make it up to those you've harmed?
All of the above requires thinking. Acting without thinking? That's the old way. Thinking without acting? Also no good anymore. Thinking, and then taking action--that's what it's like now. Not always, not every moment, but more often than not. To me, that's a big part of what it means to be a man: thoughtful action.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)