Nobody was listening, for they were all saying, “Open it, Pooh,” “What is it, Pooh?” “I know what it is,” “No, you don’t,” and other helpful remarks of this sort. And of course Pooh was opening it as quickly as ever he could, but without cutting the string, because you never know when a bit of string might be Useful. At last it was undone. AA Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Man, I never thought that I would end this volume of the New Day Chronicles with the Pooh Bear. I had visions of edgier posts, just nailing the arguments for sobriety, cutting through all the BS, and letting people know that my worst day sober has been better than my best day drunk. But Pooh is a Smart Bear – I’ve learned a lot from him.

I’m not entirely sure when or if I’ll be back – writing this blog has been very therapeutic for me, but it’s time for me to move on.  I have never kept a journal, and have seen the value of writing things down as they bother me or as I am inspired. If you’ve followed this from the beginning, you will notice that my posts have gotten longer (and possibly a bit more hopeful) as I’ve gone deeper into the Steps and into my recovery.

I went through significant periods in my life where I didn’t think anybody was listening, especially towards the end of my drinking. And just like Pooh in the quote above, some of the remarks just were not all that helpful: “Stop drinking, Harry”, “What are you doing to yourself Harry?”, “I know what the problem is”, “No you don’t”, and other “helpful” remarks of this sort.

And I was opening too, starting to open to the possibility that I had a problem with alcohol, but I couldn’t cut the strings to the past, to the blame game. “I got dumped!” “Of course I’m having another drink – I deserve one! – look how she treated me!” And at the last, it all became unravelled. At last it was undone. I had hit my bottom.

In recovery, they say you can have many more bottoms. I guess I’ve been lucky – for me they’ve been bumps on the road – usually a sign that I’m procrastinating with a step or some action that I need to be taking.

I saw an old friend yesterday – he got sober about six months before I did, and he’s going through changes of his own. One thing he and I fully agree upon: Bill and Dr. Bob’s Program of Action had a Goal: 

We perceive that only through utter defeat are we able to take our first steps toward liberation and strength. Our admissions of personal powerlessness finally turn out to be firm bedrock upon which happy and purposeful lives may be built. Page 21, Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions

From Step One we can see that the bedrock of our recovery is in admitting that we are totally powerless over alcohol – and that our Goal is to be building a “happy and purposeful” life. In basic goal-setting, it is paramount that one writes down one’s goals – an unwritten goal is rarely achievable.

I’m happy – happier than I’ve ever been in my life. And my life keeps bringing me new purpose. I have new “leaps of faith” all the time, bringing me to a closer understanding of myself and the higher power that I still don’t understand but I know understands me.

And I need to go in some new directions in my life. Today, I found courage where courage was lacking. It’s amazing how much fear I had over telling someone that their drinking was unacceptable – funny how big a fear it was and how little courage it actually took. It was frakking brutal, but absolutely necessary – she has our disease. And now, all I can do is stand back and hope – hope that she finds her bottom and gets better, and someday leads a happy and purposeful life again.

Because of AA, I find serenity, courage and wisdom when I least expect it. And I can be grateful that I’m an alcoholic, one who has admitted my allergic disease, because I can now proceed to have that “happy and purposeful” life – one that I would never have known unless things happened exactly as they did. Everything that happened in my past has brought me to this moment – everything.

You know that Christopher Robin understands his Bear when he decides to give him a party for risking his life to save their friend Piglet from the flood. Christopher Robin understood the Power of Gratitude when he got all the animals together to celebrate Winnie the Pooh’s bravery. Christopher Robin didn’t just talk about his gratitude – he showed it by giving Pooh a new pencil case (including, of course that wonderful HB pencil!). Pooh’s reaction to Chrisopher Robin’s maturity was predictable, as was Eeyore’s:

“Oh!” said Pooh.
“Oh, Pooh!” said everybody else except Eeyore.
“Thank-you,” growled Pooh.
But Eeyore was saying to himself, “This writing business. Pencils and what-not. Over-rated, if you ask me. Silly stuff. Nothing in it.”

I guess that from some perspectives, it might seem as though this writing business is silly stuff with nothing in it. But it wasn’t for me. It helped keep me sober when I most needed it.

Later on, when they had all said “Good-bye” and “Thank-you” to Christopher Robin, Pooh and Piglet walked home thoughtfully together in the golden evening, and for a long time they were silent.

 ”Goodbye” and “Thank-you” is a good note to leave this on, for now. See you in the Rooms or beyond the sunset.

Harry

P.S. The New Day Meeting continues as normal – it’s just the blog that stops here, for now.

“Tracks,” said Piglet. “Paw-marks.” He gave a little squeak of excitement.
“Oh, Pooh! Do you think it’s a–a–a Woozle?”
“It may be,” said Pooh. “Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t. You never can tell with paw-marks.” A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Okay, I’ve got questions! And not just the two that I had when I walked into my first AA Meeting (that’s an Alcoholics Anonymous Meeting, not a Book Study Meeting for AA Milne). I had asked “How does this work?” and was told “I don’t know. Just try not to drink and come back to another meeting”. I had asked “How often should I come?” and was asked in return “How often did you drink?”

 

Why is it that we leave footprints behind us when we go forward on a new path? How often have I heard “One Step forward, Two Steps back”? Where does the path lead if this is a spiritual journey and not a spiritual destination? Am I walking in circles? And why did my sponsor fall down his stairs and break his ankle a couple of years ago – I thought that he was an expert on the Steps!?

 

***sigh*** I know, I know – acceptance is the answer to all my questions/problems:

 

And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing or situation — some fact of my life — unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.  BB, Pg. 417

 

I’m not sure about Woozles, but I know I was woozie when I first got sober. And I couldn’t accept much. And I couldn’t handle much drama, although there was plenty to go around.

 

When Piglet and Pooh took their walk down the path, they were probably watching where they stepped (animals being what they are…), and didn’t have much perspective on where they were going. As they walked around the tree that Christopher Robin was sitting in, they were more and more spooked by all the paw-prints they found – the unexplainable, the mysterious Woozles – that’s what must have left the paw-prints! And the more they walked around the same tree (going in circles, don’t you know), the more paw prints they found! And the more Woozles they thought that they were hunting! And the fear grew – what if Woozles were hostile? And just how many of them were there?

 

As Walt Kelly’s Pogo once stated (I know, I’m mixing books again): “We Have Met the Enemy And He Is Us!”

 

But I digress: Piglet had a good idea – avoid the Woozles and do something else – anything else!  This is Piglet’s version of Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow:

 

“I think,” said Piglet, when he had licked the tip of his nose too, and found that it brought very little comfort, “I think that I have just remembered something. I have just remembered something that I forgot to do yesterday and sha’n't be able to do to-morrow. So I suppose I really ought to go back and do it now.”

 

Avoidance may just be a common characteristic of alcoholics and bears and piglets. I didn’t want to look at myself in the mirror, much less watch myself slide down that slippery slope towards oblivion. And I certainly avoided the truth – that absolutely no one else was the enemy – I was. Those were my own footprints I was following, and it was a very dark path.

 

Until one day when someone with a different perspective, who could see the forest for the trees, suggested that I think about what I was doing, and try something different, one day at a time.

 

“Silly old Bear,” he said, “what were you doing? First you went round the spinney twice by yourself, and then Piglet ran after you and you went round again together, and then you were just going round a fourth time”
“Wait a moment,” said Winnie-the-Pooh, holding up his paw.
He sat down and thought, in the most thoughtful way he could think. Then he fitted his paw into one of the Tracks . . . and then he scratched his nose twice, and stood up.
“Yes,” said Winnie-the-Pooh.
“I see now,” said Winnie-the-Pooh.
“I have been Foolish and Deluded,” said he, “and I am a Bear of No Brain at All.”
“You’re the Best Bear in All the World,” said Christopher Robin soothingly.
“Am I?” said Pooh hopefully. And then he brightened up suddenly.

 

All I felt when I first got sober was that I was Foolish and Deluded. All my willpower was for naught. I felt stupid, ashamed, weak – a Bear of No Brain indeed.

 

And then somebody believed in me. And then a whole bunch of somebodies believed in me. And then I came to believe that everything was going to be okay. And no matter what has happened or happens or will happen, I don’t need to drink today.

 

Somebody told me today that they saw peace and serenity in my eyes, and they wanted that too. I didn’t feel a lot of peace and serenity this afternoon when I was racing to the scene of a seven-car pile-up which included my daughter’s car, but when I could take my heart out of my mouth after I found out that she was going to be okay, I was able to just be me and do what little I could - not be a crazed worried maniac – just me. And I didn’t need to drink or smoke.

 

And I talked to the right person on the telephone. And felt immediately better – amazing what a calming effect just the few right words can have on a troubled soul.

 

I may not be the Best Bear in all the world, but it’s progress, right? (said hopefully). Things look suddenly brighter. Happy New Year, everybody.

 

Harry

You DO know that Winnie-the-Pooh discovered the North Pole, don’t you?

“Pooh’s found the North Pole,” said Christopher Robin. “Isn’t that lovely?”
Pooh looked modestly down.
“Is that it?” said Eeyore.
“Yes,” said Christopher Robin.
“Is that what we were looking for?”
“Yes,” said Pooh.
“Oh!” said Eeyore. “Well, anyhow–it didn’t rain,” he said.
They stuck the pole in the ground, and Christopher Robin tied a message on to it:

NorTH PoLE
DICSovERED By
PooH
PooH FouND IT

I don’t know whether or not you’ve found what you’re looking for in these messages. I don’t know if you’ve found the peace and serenity and grace so freely given by the members of Alcoholics Anonymous. I don’t know if you’ve discovered Courage and Wisdom along the Way as the Steps get done.

But this I do know – that if Pooh can find IT, so can you. My Christmas wish for you is that you get IT, that you find what you’re looking for, and that you find it within. Thank you for your support and your best wishes in this amazing year.

But don’t tell Pooh where the Honey is – otherwise, that sailboat is going to be riding a little low in the water. Oh, what the heck – grow fat along with me – the best is yet to be.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Harry

It’s Time for Tales of Tails, and Tails of Tales.

But to start at the Beginning of a Story is usually the Best Way, so let’s look First at a “Tale of Two Cities”:

Book the First — Recalled to Life — Chapter I – The Period

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way–in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.          Charles Dickens “A Tale of Two Cities”

Echoes of John Barleycorn (John Barleycorn must die)! Dickens  nails the contrasts for me – “best of times, worst of times… spring of hope, winter of despair”, as did Jack London in John Barleycorn -  “I am. I was. I am not. I never am. I am never less his friend than when he is with me and when I seem most his friend. He is the king of liars. He is the frankest truthsayer.

Alcohol was my best friend and my worst enemy. It gave me hope and caused me to live in despair. It gave me a sense of ease and comfort that totally destroyed my peace of mind. I was not an alcoholic and then I became one by admitting that I was an alcoholic. And so on.

There aren’t a lot of contradictions in Pooh’s world – he was a pretty simple Bear. And therein lie the tales of Eeyore’s lost and numb tail.

 THE Old Grey Donkey, Eeyore, stood by himself in a thistly corner of the forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, “Why?” and sometimes he thought, “Wherefore?” and sometimes he thought, “Inasmuch as which?”–and sometimes he didn’t quite know what he was thinking about…

“And how are you?” said Winnie-the-Pooh.
Eeyore shook his head from side to side. “Not very how,” he said. “I don’t seem to have felt at all how for a long time.”
“Dear, dear,” said Pooh, “I’m sorry about that. Let’s have a look at you.” So Eeyore stood there, gazing sadly at the ground, and Winnie-the-Pooh walked all round him once. “Why, what’s happened to your tail?” he said in surprise.
“What has happened to it?” said Eeyore.
“It isn’t there!”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, either a tail is there or it isn’t there You can’t make a mistake about it. And yours isn’t there!”
“Then what is?”
“Nothing.”

“Let’s have a look,” said Eeyore, and he turned slowly round to the place where his tail had been a little while ago, and then, finding that he couldn’t catch it up, he turned round the other way, until he came back to where he was at first, and then he put his head down and looked between his front legs, and at last he said, with a long, sad sigh, “I believe you’re right”
“Of course I’m right,” said Pooh
“That accounts for a Good Deal,” said Eeyore gloomily. “It explains Everything. No Wonder.”

Oh, dear, that Eeyore sounds an awful lot like me when I was drinking. I didn’t lose my tail (never had one in the first place!), but I did lose a marriage, a home, my self-respect, and very nearly my sanity. And in a very Eeyorish way, I groaned about everything, blamed it all on others, and was reluctant to ask for help.

Pooh, simple and wise Bear that he is, figured out that Owl was using Eeyore’s tail for a bell-pull, and had Christopher Robin tack it back on. But Pooh isn’t finished with tails yet, because when he and Christopher Robin go on their Expotition to the North Pole, Eeyore loses all feeling in his tail:

Eeyore took his tail out of the water, and swished it from side to side. “As I expected,” he said. “Lost all feeling. Numbed it. That’s what it’s done. Numbed it. Well, as long as nobody minds, I suppose it’s all right.”
“Poor old Eeyore! I’ll dry it for you,” said Christopher Robin, and he took out his handkerchief and rubbed it up.
“Thank you, Christopher Robin. You’re the only one who seems to understand about tails. They don’t think–that’s what’s the matter with some of these others. They’ve no imagination. A tail isn’t a tail to them, it’s just a Little Bit Extra at the back.”
“Never mind, Eeyore,” said Christopher Robin, rubbing his hardest. “Is that better?”
“It’s feeling more like a tail perhaps. It Belongs again, if you know what I mean.”

Hmmm. It wasn’t my tail that I numbed with my drinking – it was my feelings. I didn’t seem to belong anywhere, but when I finally arrived in the rooms of AA, I felt that these were the only people who understood me. I belonged again, if you know what I mean.

When Piglet was in trouble and surrounded by water, Christopher Robin had a hard time believing the Wisdom he was hearing from this friend the Bear:

And then this Bear, Pooh Bear, Winnie-the-Pooh, F.O.P. (Friend of Piglet’s), R.C. (Rabbit’s Companion), P.D. (Pole Discoverer), E.C. and T.F. (Eeyore’s Comforter and Tail-finder)–in fact, Pooh himself–said something so clever that Christopher Robin could only look at him with mouth open and eyes staring, wondering if this was really the Bear of Very Little Brain whom he had know and loved so long.
“We might go in your umbrella,” said Pooh. “?”
“We might go in your umbrella,” said Pooh? “??”
“We might go in your umbrella,” said Pooh. “!!!!!!”
For suddenly Christopher Robin saw that they might. He opened his umbrella and put it point downwards in the water. It floated but wobbled. Pooh got in. He was just beginning to say that it was all right now, when he found that it wasn’t, so after a short drink, which he didn’t really want, he waded back to Christopher Robin. Then they both got in together, and it wobbled no longer.
“I shall call this boat The Brain of Pooh,” said Christopher Robin, and The Brain of Pooh set sail forthwith in a south-westerly direction, revolving gracefully.

See, Pooh knew that it was a “WE” program all along, just like the program of AA. I had short drinks, which I didn’t really want, just like Pooh, but when I got into the program together with other alcoholics, I wobbled no longer, and set sail for a better life. (I’m still wondering if this passage is where the term “S**T-for-Brains” comes from…)

In the poem Ulysses, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, comes the end of my tale for this eve:

 … Come, my friends,
     ’Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
     Push off, and sitting well in order smite
     The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
     To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
     Of all the western stars, until I die.
     It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
     It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
     And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

It’s never too late to be Recalled to Life, to seek a New World, to find our Tail again. I want to sail beyond that sunset with those whom I love, and I don’t care about the “May Be’s”. For me, for today, I’m just grateful to be sober and sailing in the right direction.

Harry

“Well, good-bye, if you’re sure you won’t have any more.”
“Is there any more?” asked Pooh quickly.
Rabbit took the covers off the dishes, and said, “No, there wasn’t.”
“I thought not,” said Pooh, nodding to himself. “Well, good-bye. I must be going on.”  A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Alcoholism has often been called the “disease of more”. I don’t know about you, but I would often be anxious to leave a party, unless there was more, of course. More beer, more punch, more wine, more rye or rum or scotch or vodka, more drambuie or grand marnier – it didn’t really matter. If there was more, I would stay.

Until it was too late. Until I would dig myself into a hole just like Pooh, and not be able to get out. I found myself in some very Tight Places in the last months and days of my drinking. And just like Pooh, I wanted to climb out of the hole I was in.

So he started to climb out of the hole. He pulled with his front paws, and pushed with his back paws, and in a little while his nose was out in the open again . . . and then his ears . . . and then his front paws . . . and then his shoulders . . . and then–

“Oh, help!” said Pooh. “I’d better go back.”
“Oh, bother!” said Pooh. “I shall have to go on.”
“I can’t do either!” said Pooh. “Oh, help and bother!”

 And just like the Silly Old Bear, I got stuck, but couldn’t admit it, and lied about my drinking problem and “Why Things Were The Way They Were”. And In Spite Of the fact that people wanted to be helpful and give me a hand, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t hurting enough.

Now, by this time Rabbit wanted to go for a walk too, and finding the front door full, he went out by the back door, and came round to Pooh, and looked at him.
“Hallo, are you stuck?” he asked.  “N-no,” said Pooh carelessly. “Just resting and thinking and humming to myself.”
“Here, give us a paw.” Pooh Bear stretched out a paw, and Rabbit pulled and pulled and pulled….
“0w!” cried Pooh. “You’re hurting!”

And just like Edward Bear, once I had to admit the fact that I was stuck, I still wanted to blame Everyone and Everything.

“The fact is,” said Rabbit, “you’re stuck.”
“It all comes,” said Pooh crossly, “of not having front doors big enough.”
“It all comes,” said Rabbit sternly, “of eating too much. I thought at the time,” said Rabbit, “only I didn’t like to say anything,” said Rabbit, “that one of us was eating too much,” said Rabbit, “and I knew it wasn’t me,” he said.

Just like Winnie the Pooh (or was it Pooh the Winnie?), once people told me that there was a solution, I couldn’t imagine how I could find the time.

“You mean I’d never get out?” said Pooh.
“I mean,” said Rabbit, “that having got so far, it seems a pity to waste it.”
Christopher Robin nodded.
“Then there’s only one thing to be done,” he said. “We shall have to wait for you to get thin again.”
“How long does getting thin take?” asked Pooh anxiously.
“About a week, I should think.”
“But I can’t stay here for a week!”
“You can stay here all right, silly old Bear. It’s getting you out which is so difficult.”
“We’ll read to you,” said Rabbit cheerfully.

Of course, I wasn’t thinking in terms of weeks, or even months or years. I didn’t see how I could possibly spend an hour every day on the solution to all of my problems. And then things changed. People READ to me, cheerfully and without hesitation. And I started to read the Big Book and the Twelve and Twelve and the Tao of Pooh and the Dark Night of Recovery and the Spirituality of Imperfection and Drop the Rock and whatever else came my way.

And eventually I lost some ego (and about 25 pounds) and got out of myself and the hole I was in.

Just like the Bear, I still stumble into trouble some days. I hurt someone’s feelings recently and felt really helpless to Do Something About It. I apologized for my part in it, but I can”t read other people’s minds. I should have known better, and it really helped me for them to say “everything happens for a reason”. I honestly don’t know what that reason might be, but then that other saying comes back – “What will be, will be”.

I don’t know what will be. All I know is that I’m no longer stuck in a hole because my friends showed me a way to get out. And I’m so very grateful for my friends. Every one of them. Including a Silly Old Bear.

Harry

 

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?”
“What’s for breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”
“I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully.
“It’s the same thing,” he said.

From the Tao of Pooh, by Benjamin Hoff

Ahhh, the wisdom of the Pooh Bear. I knew I’d end up here eventually… Winnie the Pooh and Piglet and Tigger and Owl and I go way back – back to When We Were Very Young.  Christopher Robin was a lucky guy to grow up with such friends – and in all their adventures, it always seemed that there was a lesson to learn.

I have a hard time learning my lessons sometimes – my alcoholic tendencies towards defiance and defeatism always put big obstacles in my path. My drinking day after day after day led me to a point where I over-reacted to everything, not only making mountains out of molehills, but expecting the worst and usually getting it.

A lot of that vanished when I started doing the steps in earnest, but it still sometimes creeps in to my thoughts – a friend cautioned me recently to never trouble trouble until trouble troubles you – wisdom definitely worthy of dwelling in the House at Pooh Corner. Mind you, that same friend seems to be able to practice unconditional acceptance and yet keep healthy boundaries – it’s such a humbling and calming thing to be told “What will be, will be…”

I’ve so often heard that an expectation is a resentment waiting for a place to happen. As alcoholics, we must rid ourselves of our resentments or we will drink again. Guaranteed. And in Step Eight, we are given a golden opportunity to make a list of those we had harmed, and get ready to make amends – and oddly enough, a lot of those people on that same list are also on my resentment list from my Step Four.

Step Four is essential:

If we have been thorough about our personal inventory, we have written down a lot.  We have listed and analyzed our resentments.  We have begun to comprehend their futility and their fatality.  We have commenced to see their terrible destructiveness.  We have begun to learn tolerance, patience and good will toward all men, even our enemies, for we look on them as sick people.  We have listed the people we have hurt by our conduct, and are willing to straighten out the past if we can.  Pg. 70 of the Big Book

Step Eight is also essential:

Now we need more action, without which we find that “Faith without works is dead.” Let’s look at Steps Eight and Nine.  We have a list of all persons we have harmed and to whom we are willing to make amends.  We made it when we took inventory.  We subjected ourselves to a drastic self-appraisal.  Now we go out to our fellows and repair the damage done in the past.  We attempt to sweep away the debris which has accumulated out of our effort to live on self-will and run the show ourselves. If we haven’t the will to do this, we ask until it comes. Remember it was agreed at the beginning we would go to any lengths for victory over alcohol.  Pg. 70 of the Big Book

I’m told that if I clean up my side of the street that none of the rest matters. And indeed, with some of the amends I’ve already made, once I make the amends, whether or not I am forgiven, any resentments I may have had with that person just melted away.

I’m really not so great at making a list of all the things I want to accomplish in a day. Ahhh – to live with no expectations of the day – other than to simply know that “something is going to happen exciting today”.

Or to put it another way, the Pooh Way: “What’s for breakfast?” It’s all the same. Que Sera Sera.

Harry

I once heard a friend say that the words she needed to hear before she would admit that she needed help with her alcohol problem was when a friend said to her “you’re better than that”.

Of course, the friend of my friend probably wasn’t an alcoholic. And let’s face it, no matter how good I was, no matter how much willpower I had, no matter what my education or my background or how much I had in my bank account, I couldn’t stop on my own. Alcohol reduced me to the lowest common denominator – and my response probably would have been my ego talking in reverse - “Better than what?” I probably would have said, and kept on drinking.

But it doesn’t matter. For her, that’s what she needed to hear. And she got sober. And stayed sober.

I have another friend who once told a newcomer “You’re not going to make it!” because of his attitude and ego. A year later, after celebrating his first anniversary, the newcomer came up to my friend and said that it was what he needed to hear, because he was challenged and was actually able to use his defiance to stay sober. Defiance isn’t necessarily a good thing in the face of being told that we have no control over other people, places and things, and that we need to surrender in order to win.

But it doesn’t matter. For him, that’s what he needed to hear. And he got sober. And stayed sober.

For me, I got what I needed to hear when I asked: “How does this work?”, and was told “I don’t know – just keep on coming back”; and “How often should I come?” and was asked back “How often did you drink?”. And I got sober. And stayed sober.

What it all comes down to is that every alcoholic who has entered recovery hears what he or she needs to hear, hits bottom and reaches out. Or doesn’t, and keeps on sliding down that slippery slope – there’s always another bottom until the final one – and this is a fatal disease.

Nobody deserves this disease. Nobody.

I never thought I was better than anybody else. But I always thought I deserved better than the life I was living while I was drinking. Even after I stopped drinking, there were times that I felt I deserved better than what life was putting in front of me. And the screwiest part of it all was when good things started to happen to me in sobriety, I didn’t feel worthy – I didn’t know if I deserved to be happy!

Step Three tells us that we are the fortunate ones:

Therefore, we who are alcoholics can consider ourselves fortunate indeed. Each of us has had his own near-fatal encounter with the juggernaut of self-will, and has suffered enough under its weight to be willing to look for something better. So it is by circumstance rather than by any virtue that we have been driven to A.A., have admitted defeat, have acquired the rudiments of faith, and now want to make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to a Higher Power. 12&12, Pgs. 37-38

“…being willing to look for something better” – why? Because I had suffered enough. Those around me had suffered enough. We all deserved better.

“…by circumstance rather than by any virtue” – how? Not because I was better than anybody else – but because I was in the right place at the right time and heard what I needed to hear. 

Grace is often called the “undeserved gift”. I struggle with that sometimes. For me, everybody deserves better – for me, to make that leap of faith required for the Third Step requires that I believe that there is a better way to live, a better way to love, that I can become deserving of “finding the grace to go on living to better effect”.

Over the last 24 hours, I’ve heard many of the words that I needed to hear. Some of that will sink in, some of it won’t. But I have a funny feeling that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be at this moment. And that things are going to continue to get better.

Harry

Did you know that the word “coffee” is only mentioned on one page in the Big Book?

I’ve often felt that AA members should pool all of their savings and purchase shares in Tim Horton’s, Starbucks, Second Cup, and Bridgehead. Really – have you seen some of these places before or after a AA meeting?  Hell, we probably spend enough money at these places to form our own Coffee Index Mutual Fund, and all retire off the proceeds.

I remember how important it was when I stumbled into my first AA meeting for someone to put a cup of coffee into my hands. Swill though it was, it was hot, and it didn’t have booze in it. Mind you, it was also full, and with my shakey hands… well, you get the picture. When I bring a newcomer a cup of coffee these days, I try to remember to leave the cup only half full.

What is it they say about the optimist, the pessimist and the alcoholic? The optimist proudly declares that the glass is half full, the  pessimist loudly complains that the glass is half empty, and the alcoholic says “Are you guys gonna drink that?”

Of course, I had to be different – towards the end of my drinking, my attitude was more along the lines of “Who the hell needs a glass?” ***Sigh*** – from boxless thinking to glassless drinking – that’s where I was headed.

I’m still grateful for bad coffee on a cold night, although I am starting to learn to moderate my caffeine addiction and enjoy better coffee when I can.  And speaking of other addictions, I’m 26 days since my last cigarette – I was going to give up drinking and smoking the same day, but somebody said not to do that to my body. It’s too bad that it had to take me over 5 years to get to this point, but I have no regrets – the universe is unfolding the way it should…

Someone told me that chocolate was sinful recently, but hey, we’re not saints, right? I’ll deal with my addictive behaviours one at a time, one day at a time. In the meantime, I mean to enjoy life too. I’m just glad that no one around me sits in judgement – my friends and family have all been supportive, and never intolerant. Thank heavens, because the last thing this alcoholic needs is to be told not to do something:

Here is a case in point: One of our friends is a heavy smoker and coffee drinker.  There was no doubt he over-indulged.  Seeing this, and meaning to be helpful, his wife commenced to admonish him about it.  He admitted he was overdosing these things, but frankly said that he was not ready to stop.  His wife is one of those persons who really feels there is something rather sinful about these commodities, so she nagged, and her intolerance finally threw him into a fit of anger.  He got drunk. 

Of course our friend was wrong—dead wrong.  He had to painfully admit that and mend his spiritual fences. Though he is now a most effective member of Alcoholics Anonymous, he still smokes and drinks coffee, but neither his wife nor anyone else stands in judgment.  She sees she was wrong to make a burning issue out of such a matter when his more serious ailments were being rapidly cured. Big Book, Pg. 135

I don’t know about my “serious ailments… being rapidly cured”, but I do know that I feel better to be waking up to an espresso or latte than to a “scotch and coffee”, or that first cigarette of the day.  And just like the fact that since I came into AA, I’ve never said that I’ll never drink again, now I don’t have to say that I’ll never smoke again. I just know that I don’t need to today.

Today I didn’t drink or smoke – I did have some chocolate, however. So sue me – I ain’t a saint yet…

Harry

My daughter asked if I could keep a secret recently – hah! Of course I can! I used to be an expert at hiding my drinking – or so I thought…

The fibs, the excuses, the half-truths, and the bald-faced lies about where I had been or what I had been doing got worse towards the end of my drinking. It got so bad that I didn’t even know what the truth even was anymore.

But then my poker-face started to drop – my “tell” was a nervous twitch while I obsessed over where my next drink was going to come from. And finally, I could bluff no longer and had to admit that I had a problem with alcohol. The simple truth was that I was an alcoholic,  and I didn’t know what to do.

But even after coming to AA, I was still in denial about how my drinking had affected others, and I was stunned one day when another of my daughters admitted that she used to hear me get up in the morning and open the freezer door to ever so quietly (!) grab my bottle of scotch to pour it in my coffee. And then she would cry herself back to sleep. She knew I was hurting. And she didn’t know what to do.

I came to AA, and I admitted the simplest truth possible – that I was an alcoholic and I didn’t know what to do. And eventually I started to do the steps and got honest with myself.

But it wasn’t enough – eventually I had to get honest with my higher power and another human being. Step Five was an essential step in my recovery:

The best reason first: If we skip this vital step, we may not overcome drinking.  Time after time newcomers have tried to keep to themselves certain facts about their lives. Trying to avoid this humbling experience, they have turned to easier methods.  Almost invariably they got drunk.  Having persevered with the rest of the program, they wondered why they fell.  We think the reason is that they never completed their housecleaning.  They took inventory all right, but hung on to some of the worst items in stock.  They only thought they had lost their egoism and fear; they only thought they had humbled themselves.  But they had not learned enough of humility, fearlessness and honesty, in the sense we find it necessary, until they told someone else all their life story. Big Book, Pgs. 72-73 

And now Steps 8 and 9 are beckoning with all of their requirements for honesty as well. Being rigorous about my faults and defects and past behaviours isn’t going to be easy, but if I am going to make the proper amends, then it’s absolutely necessary.

So, sorry dear daughter – I’m really not that good at hiding. And honestly, this is one secret I just want to share with the whole wide world – I’m going to be a grandfather for the very first time in the next few months!!!

I now have more incentive than ever to stay sober – to know my grandchildren as my father and grandfather never did know theirs.  And soon, I’ll have reason to be saying “Shhhh!” again to people, so that they don’t wake the baby…

I didn’t even know that I deserved to be this happy  – I think it’s about time for a dance.

Harry

Ever felt different? Ever felt like you didn’t belong? Out of your element, apart, oddball, not quite right, abnormal, or just downright strange?

Virtually every alcoholic I’ve ever met has admitted to feeling this way at one time or another, or all the time as they were growing up. I remember feeling this overwhelming need to fit in, to be accepted, In Spite Of the fact that other kids were different than me.

I was tall and awkward as a teenager. I played sports but didn’t watch them on TV. I didn’t smoke. Drinking didn’t appeal to me until long after most kids my age seemed to be regularly imbibing. I was almost painfully shy.

At least I wasn’t from Mars.

In Robert Heinlein’s classic science fiction novel “Stranger in a Strange Land”, Valentine Michael Smith was born on Mars of colonist parents, was raised by Martians after the original colony died, and was brought back to Earth, where he must learn what it means to be human.

Heinlein challenged many of the social mores of the 1950’s – religion, politics, money, monogamy, humour – it was a radical book that made a lot of people really think about the issues of the day. Smith asked a lot of questions, and through his learning about the human condition, he came to understand just how different he really was.

Smith’s mind, body, and spirit were different, but he learned to adapt, and when he finally “grokked” things rightly, he changed. He even started his own brand of spirituality where people started to say to each other “Thou art God” – something that seemed to Smith to be just basic logic – god dwells in all of us, after all.

I couldn’t believe it when I walked into AA – I didn’t have to be “terminally unique” – here, amongst a strange bunch of drunks in their strange church basements, reading their strange Steps and Traditions, was where I belonged. A bunch of strangers held out their hands, offered me help, and I got better.

I have seen people come into these rooms, feeling apart, alone, abandoned – for one reason or another, they changed – sometimes the change is gradual, sometimes dramatic, as related by Dr. Silkworth:

“What is the solution? Perhaps I can best answer this by relating one of my experiences.

About one year prior to this experience a man was brought in to be treated for chronic alcoholism.  He had but partially recovered from a gastric hemorrhage and seemed to a case of pathological mental deterioration.  He has lost everything worthwhile in life and was only living, one might say, to drink.  He frankly admitted and believed that for him there was no hope.  Following the elimination of alcohol, there was found to be no permanent brain injury.  He accepted the plan outlined in this book.  One year later he called to see me, and I experienced a very strange sensation.  I knew the man by name, and partly recognized his features, but there all resemblance ended.  From a trembling, despairing, nervous wreck, had emerged a man brimming over with self-reliance and contentment.  I talked with him for some time, but was not able to bring myself to feel that I had known him before.  To me he was a stranger…” Big Book, pg. xxix

I’ve seen people change, and today, they’re no longer strangers, but friends. I like that. I even grok it.

Harry

Why, oh why, does Charlie Brown continue to try to kick that football when he just KNOWS that Lucy is going to snatch it away at the last possible moment?

Maybe he thinks that just ONCE she won’t. Just ONCE, she’ll hold the football, he’ll kick it cleanly, and it will fly over the goalposts for the winning field goal. Just ONCE, things are going to go his way for a change.

But things never do. Time after time, our poor Charlie ends up flat on his back, bemoaning the state of the world, and wondering why he trusted her again. I don’t even want to think about how warped Lucy is, that she has this compulsion to dash his dreams again and again and again.

Time after time, I tried to kick the habit of drinking every day. Time after time, I would actually pour out the remains of my bottle and swear that I would never drink again. Time after time, I would be back at the liquor store within 24 hours. Time after time, I ended up flat on my back, bemoaning the state of the world, and wondering how I could trust anyone, let alone myself, ever again.

I wasn’t very good at relationships, either while drinking, or in early sobriety. You might say I had a few trust issues, and sure enough, that football got yanked away time and time again. It was almost as if I could trust to the fact that I was going to be let down or be betrayed or be told that I wasn’t good enough.

Then came my “year of abandonment” – it was actually over a period of about eighteen months, but I’m allowed a little literary exaggeration – my mother died, I got dumped, my last daughter moved out of the house, and I found out what empty nesting was really all about.

But it was all good – my mother saw me sober and I was able to make my amends with her; I was in a relationship which ended because I asked for respect for some healthy boundaries and was told that I was asking too much – it simply wasn’t the right relationship;  and my daughters – well, they’re growing up and my respect and love for them has never been stronger. And I really learned to live on my own.

Thank god for my meetings and service involvement through all of that  - staying close to the program became very important to me – I had no idea what other Trouble was brewing, but I knew that staying near to my friends and my sponsor and my meetings would see me through virtually anything.

As Bill W. said, towards the end of his own story:

We commenced to make many fast friends and a fellowship has grown up among us of which it is a wonderful thing to feel a part.  The joy of living we really have, even under pressure and difficulty.  I have seen hundreds of families set their feet in the path that really goes somewhere; have seen the most impossible domestic situations righted; feuds and bitterness of all sorts wiped out.  I have seen men come out of asylums and resume a vital place in the lives of their families and communities.  Business and professional men have regained their standing.  There is scarcely any form of trouble and misery which has not been overcome among us.   Big Book, Pg. 15

Dr. Bob’s prescription for a happy sober life was: 1. Trust God; 2. Clean House; 3. Help Others. I can’t think of a simpler, more effective way to face any trouble which may be in my way.

Trust issues melt away when replaced by a general faith that if I continue to do the right thing that everything will work out. I’m probably happier today than at any other time in my life, and I have to say that the prescription works.

I never prayed to the Great Pumpkin like Linus did, but I have actually kicked a few field goals in my life. And I think I’m even ready to ask someone to hold the football for me – as long as it’s not Lucy….

Harry

Once upon a time, there was a robot. He lived by Asimov’s three laws of robotics:

1. “A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.”  Isaac Asimov, “Runaround”, 1942

That robot was me in the last days of my drinking: blithely (not the happy definition of blithely - more the one that goes “Without care, concern, or consideration”) going through the motions; unfeeling; cold; trying to do things perfectly (and messing up all the time); trying to please everyone (and pleasing no one); getting no pleasure out of life, and indeed, towards the end, no pleasure out of drinking.

Okay, I wasn’t that great about the third law – driving drunk is not a good way to protect your own existence. And let’s see, I sure didn’t like taking orders given to me by human beings, so the second law didn’t get followed often.  As far as injuring human beings and inaction, I was pretty good at all that too, so the first law is out too… crap, I guess I wasn’t that perfect about the laws.

When I came into the rooms of AA, I was told that there are no rules – just keep coming back, they said. When I spoke out of turn, or said the wrong thing, or offended somebody else’s sensibilities, “Keep coming back”, they said.

I always thought that I had to do the right thing all the time, I had to do it perfectly, and I had to do it on time and under budget. It was in AA that when I goofed up, they reminded me that it was “progress, not perfection”, and to just “keep coming back”.

It was in AA that I learned that not only was it OKAY not to be perfect, but it was actually BETTER. Think about it – the most interesting stories we hear are from those who struggle with the imperfections of life, and their efforts to live a happy and purposeful life anyway, in spite of living in an imperfect world.

In the “Spirituality of Imperfection”, the authors tell their “story of spirituality – both the ancient tale and its modern-day detailing in Alcoholics Anonymous – through myths, parable, and especially stories.” And it’s the stories that give me hope and inspiration; it’s the stories that send me a message that it’s the struggle to overcome imperfection that makes us human; it’s the stories that tell of unrealized perfection that tell me of the human condition.

“For once upon a time, people told stories. In the midst of sorrow, and the presence of joy, both mourners and celebrants told stories. But especially in times of trouble, when “a miracle” was needed and the limits of human ability were reached, people turned to storytelling as a way of exploring the fundamental mysteries: “Who are we? Why are we? How are we to live?”  Kurtz & Ketcham, “The Spirituality of Imperfection“,  pg. 7. 

When the limits of human ability were reached, and perfection was not actually attainable, those most basic spiritual questions Who, Why and How are explored through our stories; those most basic spiritual questions which perhaps never get answered, but reach the nadir of their significance in the asking.

Step Six asks another question:

Many will at once ask, “How can we accept the entire implication of Step Six? Why – that is perfection!” This sounds like a hard question, but practically speaking, it isn’t. Only Step One, where we made the 100 percent admission we were powerless over alcohol, can be practiced with absolute perfection. The remaining eleven Steps state perfect ideals. They are goals toward which we look, and the measuring sticks by which we estimate our progress. Seen in this light, Step Six is still difficult, but not at all impossible. The only urgent thing is that we make a beginning, and keep trying. Pg. 68 12&12

And so, all I do these days is ask the questions, keep searching, and watch for the answers to be presented to me. It’s one hell of a lot easier to be humble (and much less robotic) by not having to live up to someone else’s ideals all the time, and much as I hate country music, this is the perfect moment to sign off with:

“Oh Lord it’s hard to be humble when you’re perfect in every way…”  Mac Davis

I’m glad I don’t have to be perfect. I just need to try my best to be better.

Peace,

Harry

“If at first you don’t succeed, give up.”

Homer Simpson

Oh boy, I may be stretching this a little, this connection between Homer Simpson and the Beatles, but over the weekend, I found an old copy of the Beatles’ “Abbey Road”.  I recently was able to purchase a turntable capable of plugging in to a laptop and playing old LP’s, and since then have been able to enjoy a number of trips down a musical memory lane. It’s interesting just how many of the old Beatle’s songs I can actually remember all the words to.

I’m not a big TV fan, but occasionally have been known to sit down and roll my eyes at some of the Simpson’s antics. The beer-swilling Homer has bugged me for years, with such memorable quotes as “Son, when you participate in sporting events, it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how drunk you get” and  ”When will I learn? The answer to life’s problems aren’t at the bottom of a bottle, they’re on TV!”. He never seems to learn his lesson in spite of various disasters which constantly befall Homer and his family.

But I think that he got it right on with the quote attributed to him above “If at first you don’t succeed, give up”. It may have been used in a sarcastic manner, as Homer often does, but it nails the essence of stopping drinking, except perhaps it should be changed to “If at LAST you don’t succeed, give up”.

Because that’s the way it was for me at the end - I felt that I had missed my last chance for happiness. I had tried everything to make my life more manageable, I wasn’t succeeding at stopping drinking by myself, and as a last resort I called AA. I just gave up and asked for help.

I had done Step One before I had ever entered the doors of AA.  While a Higher Power came later, it was in reading Step One over and over again, that I realized there was a real Power in words, and that there were actually Promises in Step One, promises which would come true if I just surrendered. These are the Promises that I saw in Step One:

- “able to take our first steps toward liberation and strength.” p.21,12 Steps &12 Traditions
- “firm bedrock upon which happy and purposeful lives may be built.” p.21
- “Proved beyond doubt by an immense experience,” p.21
- “our whole Society has sprung and flowered.” p.22
- “But a few did, and when these laid hold of A.A. principles with all the fervor with which the drowning seize life preservers, they almost invariably got well.” p.22
- “potential alcoholics… They were spared that last ten or fifteen years of literal hell the rest of us had gone through.” p.23
- “This attitude brought immediate and practical results.” p.23
- “Then, and only then, do we become as open-minded to conviction and as willing to listen as the dying can be. We stand ready to do anything which will lift the merciless obsession from us.” p.24
 
I suppose there are more in step one. The “Who” questions on pg. 24 were also promises to me – they left me saying “I do! I do!” They promised me hope. And the steps were the way to to get there…

More than anything, I wanted that “happy and purposeful” life again, in the sunshine of the spirit, which brings me finally back to Abbey Road, and the first song on the flip side, by George Harrison, ”Here comes the Sun”:

Here comes the sun (du dn du du)
Here comes the sun, And I say, It’s alright

Little darling, It’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, It seems like years since it’s been here…

Little darling, The smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, It seems like years since it’s been here…

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes (four times)

Little darling, I see the ice is slowly melting
Little darling, It seems like years since it’s been clear

Here comes the sun (du dn du du)
Here comes the sun
It’s alright

 

It was a grey November day today, but because I spent it in the company of two wonderful friends, talking about spirituality and sponsors and sponsees and the steps, and about leading happy and purposeful lives, it seemed like we spent the day in the sun.

I wish I’d been ready for this program years ago. Then I wouldn’t be slapping my forehead like Homer and saying “D’OH” for wasting all that time….

Harry

It’s true – I used to fear faith, amongst the other 99 fears – anytime I was around someone who was preachy or liked to talk just a little too much about their religion, I immediately got uncomfortable and defensive. They weren’t going to convert me!

I remember trying to be more positive when people would ask me how I was – instead of replying “not bad”, I would respond “I’m fine!”. Of course, when they would ask if I knew what F.I.N.E. meant, I would always fall for it: F.I.N.E. = F**ckedup, Insecure, Neurotic & Emotional. And truth to tell, without alcohol and without a bare beginning on sobriety, I was exactly that.

Full of fear about the curve-balls that life kept throwing at me (getting dumped early in sobriety – ooo, there’s an acronym for you: R.E.L.A.T.I.O.N.S.H.I.P. = Really Exciting Love Affair Turns Into Outrageous Nightmare Sobriety Hangs In Peril; financial ups and downs; the death of a parent), I felt like I was striking out. Of course, then I got told what F.E.A.R. meant:

FEAR = Failure Expected And Received
FEAR = False Evidence Appearing Real
FEAR = Forgetting Everything’s All Right.
FEAR = F**k Everything and Run!
FEAR = Face Everything and Recover!

When I actually faced my fears, they melted away.

As I came to believe that a higher power of my own understanding could relieve me from my insanity, I began to have faith. Faith that AA really worked for those that worked it. Faith in myself that I could make it one more day. Faith in others that they were telling me the truth when they said that there was a better way to live. Faith that even though I still struggle to believe, that something up there seems to believe in me.

Yesterday morning, I heard a new acronym: F.A.I.T.H. can stand for Feeling As If There’s Hope. Hope was what I needed when I first came through the doors, and Hope is what I still need today when facing any of my fears. As I was told in doing my Sixth Step – “Act As If” – sometimes it helps.

The F.A.I.T.H. acronyms are not bad

…I mean they’re just fine

…actually they’re all really positive:

FAITH = Finding Answers In The Heart
FAITH = Fear Ain’t In This House
FAITH = Facing An Inner Truth Heals
FAITH = For Answers I Trust Him
FAITH = Forsaking All I Trust Her (who says god’s a man?)

Tonight we talked about the final pages of Step Twelve, about when Fear turns into Faith:

This all meant, of course, that we were still far off balance. When a job still looked like a mere means of getting money rather than an opportunity for service, when the acquisition of money for financial independence looked more important than a right dependence upon God, we were still the victims of unreasonable fears. And these were fears which would make a serene and useful existence, at any financial level, quite impossible.

But as time passed we found that with the help of A.A.’s  Twelve Steps we could lose those fears, no matter what our material prospects were. We could cheerfully perform humble labor without worrying about tomorrow. If our circumstances happened to be good, we no longer dreaded a change for the worse, for we had learned that these troubles could be turned into great values. It did not matter too much what our material condition was, but it did matter what our spiritual condition was. Money gradually became our servant and not our master. It became a means of exchanging love and service with those about us. When, with God’s help, we calmly accepted our lot, then we found we could live at peace with ourselves and show others who still suffered the same fears that they could get over them, too. We found that freedom from fear was more important than freedom from want. 12&12 Pgs. 121-122

FFF – Freedom From Fear. I so much prefer that to Fear Fine Faith. There’s literally hundreds of sobriety acronyms out there, but I’ll leave you with just these two:

SOBER = Son Of A Bitch, Everything’s Real
SOBER = Spirituality Over Booze Equals Recovery

I’m grateful to be S.O.B.E.R. one more day.

Harry

I tend to hide behind my words. I can write up a storm when it comes to describing my feelings, but sometimes my scribblings don’t seem to come even close to the depths of what I feel.

And heaven help me face-to-face when I try to tell someone of the fairer sex how I feel. Words somehow abandon me, escape me, trip me up and confound me.

Alcohol used to be the great social lubricator, allowing me to be less shy and more vocal, and yet at the same time, I used it to mask my feelings, to drown them beneath a wave of tidal proportions.

When I first discovered anger in sobriety, it disturbed me. When I felt abandoned, I thought I was the loneliest person on earth. When I felt envy, regret, anxiety, sadness, grief, joy, acceptance, fear, and elation, I tasted these emotions and often put them aside for later examination.

In the past, I was variously accused of being stoic, incommunicative, not capable of feeling (that one hurt!), and not able to reach true intimacy. I often dismissed these comments as coming from drama-queens, and therefore not true.

Without alcohol, I need the steps to deal with my emotional reactions. Yesterday afternoon, I felt the shadows of some old resentments come over me. Re-Feeling resentments is what I do as an alcoholic, but I needed to let them go fast, otherwise I build up my walls again.

In the Big Book of AA, Step Four reminds us:

It is plain that a life which includes deep resentment leads only to futility and unhappiness.  To the precise extent that we permit these, do we squander the hours that might have been worth while.  But with the alcoholic, whose hope is the maintenance and growth of a spiritual experience, this business of resentment is infinitely grave.  We found that it is fatal.  For when harboring such feeling we shut ourselves off from the sunlight of the Spirit.  The insanity of alcohol returns and we drink again.  And with us, to drink is to die.  Big Book, Pg. 66

Been there, done that already. I don’t need to squander my hours anymore. I said a quick prayer and let it go.

On Friday I was elated, excited, happy to be with a wonderful friend, and happy to be me. Twenty four hours later, surrounded by drinking and a fair number of loud but not-totally-obnoxious-yet people, I found myself wanting to leave early. With smoke in my hair from the bonfire, all I could think about was going for a swim in the river and clearing my head of smoke and insanity.

Luckily, the water was too cold, sanity prevailed, and I returned to town.

Aaack – my words are still failing me – maybe I need that swim…

Harry

Okay, I have to rant a little… why, oh, why do some people exercise their mouths so often? I understand why newcomers share about their confusion and some of the bad stuff that is so fresh in their memories. I understand why people with more recovery under their belts have to share about some of life’s difficulties, but at least they usually temper their language with words like “acceptance” and “this too shall pass”.

But BLOODY HELL, I’m getting frustrated listening to some who never have a positive word to say, who whine about their awful state in life, who complain about their fear, bitch about everything under the sun, moan about the state of the world, and gossip about everyone.

I just want to scream at them “WELL DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!”. Follow some of the suggestions in this program – get a sponsor who has a sponsor, actually DO the steps and stop talking about them, and have a psychic change!

I’m not talking about newcomers here – I’m talking about people who have years of sobriety and are just so damn negative, you want to just shoot them to put them out of their misery.

Arrrgh – I know that when somebody else is bothering me, that it’s usually about something inside myself. I don’t want to drink today, I try to stay positive when I share, and the promises are coming true for me – I guess that what I want for them is all the good things that are happening for me.

When I first arrived at AA, I didn’t like the oldtimers who would say in their grandiose way “sit down, shut up, and listen”. For me, sharing was important, and if the quality of my sharing was poor at first, it’s gotten better as I’ve grown in my program.

Maybe I need to learn to meditate on this. From Step 11:

As we have seen, self-searching is the means by which we bring new vision, action, and grace to bear upon the dark and negative side of our natures. It is a step in the development of that kind of humility that makes it possible for us to receive God’s help. Yet it is only a step. We will want to go further.

We will want the good that is in us all, even in the worst of us, to flower and to grow. Most certainly we shall need bracing air and an abundance of food. But first of all we shall want sunlight; nothing much can grow in the dark. Meditation is our step out into the sun. How, then, shall we meditate? 12&12 Pg. 98

As I understand meditation, it involves a lot of sitting around in semi-darkness, repeating in my head a key phrase like “Om mani padme hum”, saying nothing, and seeking to think of nothing. It takes practice.

Okay, rant is over. Next time somebody else’s negativity is bothering me, I’m going to just close my eyes and try to go to my “happy place”. Well, either that, or I’ll just point to the new sign I plan on putting up at a few meetings…

Thank you for the overwhelming response to this site – it’s been exactly one month, and we’ve had a thousand visits. Keep coming back – the best is yet to come.

And thank you for helping me to stay sober.

Harry

I think it’s only fitting to start off today’s post with a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr., seeing as how our neighbours to the south have elected a new President:

“Normal fear protects us; abnormal fear paralyses us. Normal fear motivates us to improve our individual and collective welfare; abnormal fear constantly poisons and distorts our inner lives. Our problem is not to be rid of fear but, rather to harness and master it.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

Do YOU know what’s normal? I’m not sure I do. For years when I drank, the normal thing was to have a drink as soon as I got home from work. It seemed normal to drink at lunch. It was definitely a normal thing to drink when I was anxious or agitated.

My sense of “ease and comfort” that I got from drinking eventually went away, and I crossed that line from normal drinking to abnormal drinking. 

What became abnormal was the frequency and severity of my drinking. And the timing of it – who the heck other than an alcoholic wakes up at 3:00 in the morning and has to have a drink to get back to sleep, and then puts it in his coffee in the morning to wake up? Guess it should’a been a clue…

Alcohol magnified all of my normal fears into abnormal ones – to the point where I was paralyzed, poisoned and distorted. As the Doctor’s Opinion states, I thought that this was a normal life:

Men and women drink essentially because they like the effect produced by alcohol.  The sensation is so elusive that, while they admit it is injurious, they cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false.  To them, their alcoholic life seems the only normal one.  They are restless, irritable and discontented, unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by taking a few drinks—drinks which they see others taking with impunity.  After they have succumbed to the desire again, as so many do, and the phenomenon of craving develops, they pass through the well-known stages of a spree, emerging remorseful, with a firm resolution not to drink again.  This is repeated over and over, and unless this person can experience an entire psychic change there is very little hope of his recovery. Big Book, Pg. xxvi-xxvii 

The Problem and the Solution are nicely summed up in that one simple paragraph. It is the Program of Action outlined in the steps that has allowed me to live a fairly normal life again, without those abnormal fears.

But I can never be a normal drinker again. Nor do I want to be. Besides, who wants to be normal?

Harry

Who the heck is John Barleycorn anyway? And why does Bill mention him in the very first step in the 12&12? And why does he have to die?

John Barleycorn was the personification of alcohol, and can be traced to an old English folksong in 1568. Many versions of the song exist, Robbie Burns wrote his famous poem, and as late as 1970, a British band named Traffic recorded the song “John Barleycorn Must Die”.

And then of course, there is the marvelous book by Jack London, published in 1913, before the prohibition years. He had three more years to live before he died an alcoholic death at the age of 40. Listen to the way he describes John: 

“When the women get the ballot, they will vote for prohibition,” I said. “It is the wives, and sisters, and mothers, and they only, who will drive the nails into the coffin of John Barleycorn—-”

“But I thought you were a friend to John Barleycorn,” Charmian interpolated.

“I am. I was. I am not. I never am. I am never less his friend than when he is with me and when I seem most his friend. He is the king of liars. He is the frankest truthsayer. He is the august companion with whom one walks with the gods. He is also in league with the Noseless One. His way leads to truth naked, and to death. He gives clear vision, and muddy dreams. He is the enemy of life, and the teacher of wisdom beyond life’s wisdom. He is a red-handed killer, and he slays youth.” John Barleycorn, by Jack London, 1913

Jack London was in a full flight of denial, an obvious alcoholic who wrote so convincingly about the problems alcohol brought to him, but who felt strongly that he wasn’t really an alcoholic, and that he had put it behind him. And he died three years later… of alcoholism.

“An august companion with whom one walks with the gods… a red-handed killer” who slays youth. Sounds to me like a pretty screwed up guy, this John Barleycorn, but an apt description of what alcohol first did for me, and then did to me.

See, I loved what alcohol did for me – it made me less shy, it gave me the strength to cope, and while I never had a “spiritual experience” while experiencing spirits, I sure existed on a different plane of existence. At least until it all came crashing down and alcohol stopped working for me.

It’s actually a good thing that AA started after the prohibition years. On the one hand, when I got to AA, it was suggested that I don’t drink and go to meetings. On the other hand, AA actually tells me to go back to drinking if I don’t think I’m an alcoholic.

From Step One:

To the doubters we could say, “Perhaps you’re not an alcoholic after all. Why don’t you try some more controlled drinking, bearing in mind meanwhile what we have told you about alcoholism?” This attitude brought immediate and practical results. It was then discovered that when one alcoholic had planted in the mind of another the true nature of his malady, that person could never be the same again. Following every spree, he would say to himself, “Maybe those A.A.’s were right . . .” After a few such experiences, often years before the onset of extreme difficulties, he would return to us convinced. He had hit bottom as truly as any of us. John Barleycorn himself had become our best advocate. 12&12 Pgs. 23-24

One of my dearest friends did exactly this, and returned months later absolutely convinced by Master Barleycorn that the bottom had finally come. Controlled drinking wasn’t an option any more. The seed had been planted, and my friend’s drinking had been ruined.

But John Barleycorn was started from a seed as well, and while they buried him and chopped him up, he was reborn again and again: 

John Barleycorn by Robert Burns, 1872

“There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and plough’d him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show’rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris’d them all…”

I’ve been told that the obsession to drink can return when I least expect it. But I don’t want any more “sore surprises” in my life, so next time I see that little beggar John Barleycorn, he better damn well be wearing body armor, ’cause I’m gonna kick his ass all the way to hell and back…

I’m just grateful to be sober one more day.

Harry

Okay, I’ve made my escape from the Land of Oz, so I’m allowed to cuss now…

About a year ago, some of the members of my home group were getting really agitated about the amount of swearing going on in discussion groups as well as from speakers, so we altered the scripts to say, in addition to No Cross-talk, “No Profanity – swearing is offensive to others”.

I had to laugh a few weeks later, when one of our group’s prime offenders chaired the beginners’ group and read that line as “No Profanity – swearing is offensive to some…”. He still does it, but that’s okay – sometimes when I chair, I suggest “No damn swearing…”

When newcomers are sharing some pretty raw emotions, you tend to hear a liberal dose of the F**K word – and I’m not offended – it’s better that they get it out somehow, rather than keeping all that rage inside.

But from those who have a bit of emotional sobriety under their belts, I tend to hear the word less – it’s simply not what we’re about anymore – somebody told me that gutter language promotes gutter thinking, and I tend to agree.

What still scares the S**T out of me, however, is when somebody comes back after a relapse, and tells me that one day they just said “F**K IT ANYWAY!”, and picked up a drink. Months, sometimes years of sobriety under their belts, and it just comes down to those three simple words.

When I am suffering from an excess of negative emotions – anger, fear, or envy, I have no serenity. When I allow myself to be with people who are negative all the time, I’m not in a good place. When I place myself in situations where I will get frustrated, I’m not at peace. And those are the days when I want to wear that special button:

I don’t want those emotional hangovers anymore. I need my emotional sobriety. From Step Ten:

When a drunk has a terrific hangover because he drank heavily yesterday, he cannot live well today. But there is another kind of hangover which we all experience whether we are drinking or not. That is the emotional hangover, the direct result of yesterday’s and sometimes today’s excesses of negative emotion – anger, fear, jealousy, and the like. If we would live serenely today and tomorrow, we certainly need to eliminate these hangovers. This doesn’t mean we need to wander morbidly around in the past. It requires an admission and correction of errors now. Our inventory enables us to settle with the past. When this is done, we are really able to leave it behind us. When our inventory is carefully taken, and we have made peace with ourselves, the conviction follows that tomorrow’s challenges can be met as they come. 12&12 Pgs. 88-89

In taking my inventory today, I just realized that my biggest problem is that I haven’t done my laundry for a while. When my ex-wife started back to work and we had to divide up the household chores a little more evenly, somehow I ended up having to do all the laundry for myself and my ex and my three daughters. I SO remember the frustration in keeping things sorted, ending up with pink underwear, not giving the right clothes back to the right person, and all the challenges that entailed. I solved all that by volunteering to do all the grocery shopping and cooking for the family instead, which of course brought on its own frustrations…

My biggest problem isn’t that I can’t stay sober today. No, my biggest problem these days boils down to one thing: where the F**K are my pants?

Aaaah, there’s no place like Oz, but I think I need a vacation from there for a while – it’s been a fun trip down the Yellow Brick Road, but I’m starting to dream about winged monkeys, and I’m just itching to screech out “I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!” to my last resentment (except for the fact that they would think that I’m still insane…

There’s lots more in the Wizard of Oz stories – altogether there were 14 Oz Books written by L. Frank Baum, with a fantastic cast of characters such as Tip, Jack Pumpkinhead, Ozma, Tik-Tok, the Patchwork Girl, Cap’n Bill and Trot, and a host of others. After Baum’s death, other writers took up residence in the Oz world through another 26 books.

But this alcoholic mind can only take so much of Oz at a time – while there were some wonderful moments and wonderful lessons to be applied to my AA program, Oz was also a pretty scary place.

From Chapter 11 – A Vision for You:

The less people tolerated us, the more we withdrew from society, from life itself.  As we became subjects of King Alcohol, shivering denizens of his mad realm, the chilling vapor that is loneliness settled down.  It thickened, ever becoming blacker.  Some of us sought out sordid places, hoping to find understanding companionship and approval.  Momentarily we did—then would come oblivion and the awful awakening to face the hideous Four Horsemen—Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration, Despair. Unhappy drinkers who read this page will understand! Big Book, Pg. 151

I’ll probably return to Oz eventually – I still have to take the moral inventories of the Wizard and the Witches, visit the Poppy Fields and the Fighting Trees,  and spend some time with my old friend the Guardian of the Gates.

What was fascinating to me was that all of the protagonists of the Wonderful Wizard wanted something – the Scarecrow his brains, the Tin Woodman his heart, the Cowardly Lion his courage, and Dorothy the power to go home again. In every case, they already had it within themselves, but had no idea how to realize their dreams.

It was only by trudging the road of happy destiny – oops- the Yellow Brick Road, and taking action along their journey, that they found courage and heart and the ability to think clearly – they found the Power Within – and it had been there all along.

From the script of the 1939 MGM movie:

DOROTHY  Oh, will you help me?  Can you help me?

GLINDA  You don’t need to be helped any longer. You’ve always had the power to go back to Kansas.

DOROTHY  I have?

SCARECROW  Then why didn’t you tell her before?

GLINDA  Because she wouldn’t have believed me. She had to learn it for herself.

TIN MAN  What have you learned, Dorothy?

DOROTHY  Well, I — I think that it — that it wasn’t enough just to want to see Uncle Henry and Auntie Em — and it’s that — if I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own  backyard.  Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with!  Is that right?

GLINDA  That’s all it is!

SCARECROW  But that’s so easy! I should have thought of it for you.

TIN MAN  I should have felt it in my heart.

GLINDA  No.  She had to find it out for herself.

And that was the crux of the matter, and my ongoing recovery from alcoholism – I had to find out for myself – nobody could have told me exactly how to get to where I am today. Don’t drink and go to meetings – fine – but there’s so much more to sobriety! And so much more to pick up along the journey -guidance and help from friends, and the ability to share common experience, strength and hope along the way, and coming to believe in a power greater than myself of my own understanding.

It wasn’t enough to just want to be sober. It wasn’t enough to just talk the talk. It’s the journey, not the destination. I had to walk the walk to get there, and when I did, it was there all along – right within my own heart.

Some of you out there may never have met the Scarecrow or the Lion, and the Tin Woodman may be a mystery to you:

Still you may say: “But I will not have the benefit of contact with you who wrote this book.” We cannot be sure. God will determine that, so you must remember that your real reliance is always upon Him.  He will show you how to create the fellowship you crave.

Our book is meant to be suggestive only.  We realize we know only a little.  God will constantly disclose more to you and to us.  Ask Him in your morning meditation what you can do each day for the man who is still sick.  The answers will come, if your own house is in order.  But obviously you cannot transmit something you haven’t got. See to it that your relationship with Him is right, and great events will come to pass for you and countless others.  This is the Great Fact for us. 

Abandon yourself to God as you understand God.  Admit your faults to Him and to your fellows.  Clear away the wreckage of your past.  Give freely of what you find and join us.  We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit, and you will surely meet some of us as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny.

May God bless you and keep you—until then. Big Book, Pg. 164

So if it just so happens that one new day, you meet a straw man, a tin man, and a big pussycat during your travels on the road, don’t run screaming for the closest mental hospital. Just ask them what you can do for them, and if they happen to still be looking for heart and courage and wisdom, you’ll know where to take them – to your home group.

After all, home is where the heart is: ”there’s no place like home“!

Harry

Something about my previous post tweaked a memory – here’s the line: “My change of heart allowed me to see again, through a new pair of glasses.”

Now I didn’t really need to even wear reading glasses until a few years ago – I always figured that my blurry vision had something to do with my having had one too many…

But I can see things now with an astonishing clarity – where other people are coming from, why they sometimes say the things that they do, why they aren’t ready for a relationship, where they are in their program and in their re-integration back into real life, and I can accept things that I would have had trouble with before.

What I still struggle with sometimes is the fact that I see myself in a strange mirror – you’ve probably heard the saying “I’m not what I what I ought to be, I’m not what I want to be, I’m not what I’m going to be, but Thank You God, I’m not what I used to be.” And sometimes I’m not sure what I see looking back at me from the mirror. I know I’ve changed, but sometimes it takes others to tell me how I’ve changed, because I often just don’t see it.

So many good things are happening in my life, I almost feel that I don’t deserve them. I know it’s just some of the Promises coming true for me, but am I ready to accept them? I’m not wearing rose-coloured glasses any more, but my perception of myself is still coloured by my past.

Dorothy was shocked to learn the truth from the Wizard of Oz:

“But isn’t everything here green?” asked Dorothy.

“No more than in any other city,” replied Oz; “but when you wear green spectacles, why of course everything you see looks green to you. The Emerald City was built a great many years ago, for I was a young man when the balloon brought me here, and I am a very old man now. But my people have worn green glasses on their eyes so long that most of them think it really is an Emerald City, and it certainly is a beautiful place, abounding in jewels and precious metals, and every good thing that is needed to make one happy. I have been good to the people, and they like me; but ever since this Palace was built, I have shut myself up and would not see any of them.                The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum

I remember wanting people to see me in a certain light, and feeling that I was a failure because I couldn’t stop drinking. I remember that isolating and not wanting to see anyone so that I could wallow in my misery. Hell, I even remember feeling (and looking!) pretty green when I had a bad hangover! 

It’s been said many times that alcoholism is a disease of perception, and so it was for me in doing my Step Five – full of fear that I now had to admit my shortcomings to another human being, I delayed for a whole month after completing my Step Four. I simply couldn’t see that freedom was just around the corner:

When we decide who is to hear our story, we waste not time.  We have a written inventory and we are prepared for a long talk.  We explain to our partner what we are about to do and why we have to do it.  He should realize that we are engaged upon a life-and-death errand.  Most people approached in this way will be glad to help; they will be honored by our confidence. 

 We pocket our pride and go to it, illuminating every twist of character, every dark cranny of the past.  Once we have taken this step, withholding nothing, we are delighted.  We can look the world in the eye.  We can be alone at perfect peace and ease.  Our fears fall from us. We begin to feel the nearness of our Creator.  We may have had certain spiritual beliefs, but now we begin to have a spiritual experience.  The feeling that the drink problem has disappeared will often come strongly.  We feel we are on the Broad Highway, walking hand in hand with the Spirit of the Universe. Big Book, Pg. 75

I can look the world in the eye again, and needn’t feel yellow from cowardice, purple from frustration, or be green with envy. So it’s okay to accept those good things that are happening to me. All I needed was that new pair of glasses – oh, and that change of heart.

Harry

The Tin Woodman wasn’t always made of tin. Once he was a real man, determined to marry his true love. His Munchkin girlfriend had conditions, however – he had to earn enough money to build a better house for her. (Conditional love – been there, lost the t-shirt!)

ISO – (In Spite Of) knowing better, the Woodman went to work to satisfy those conditions. The Wicked Witch of the East cast a spell on his ax, and at first he chopped off his left leg. The tinsmith made him a new one, but as soon as he started back to work, the enchanted ax slipped again and cut off his right leg. The tinsmith made him a new one. His arms got chopped off – the tinsmith made him new ones. His head got chopped off – the tinsmith made him a new head. And then the final blow – the enchanted ax slipped again and cut straight through his body – the tinsmith happened along and made him a new torso, and so the Tin Woodman lost his heart, and felt that he could never love again, because “no one can love who has not a heart”.

Hmmm, this is sounding suspiciously like the Jaywalker story from the Big Book:

You may think our illustration is too ridiculous.  But is it? We, who have been through the wringer, have to admit if we substituted alcoholism for jay-walking (substitute here jay-walking for cutting down trees with an enchanted ax), the illustration would fit exactly.  However intelligent we may have been in other respects, where alcohol has been involved, we have been strangely insane.  It’s strong language—but isn’t it true? Big Book. P. 38

It also sounds like the definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. 

I was sick at heart when I arrived at AA’s door – I felt heartless for keeping on drinking, even though it was hurting me and those around me. In Spite Of trying to stop drinking many times, I couldn’t succeed.

The heart had gone out of me – I didn’t think I deserved love or happiness:

More than most people, the alcoholic leads a double life. He is very much the actor.  To the outer world he presents his stage character.  This is the one he likes his fellows to see.  He wants to enjoy a certain reputation, but knows in his heart he doesn’t deserve it. Big Book, P. 73

I had pretty low self-esteem at that point – I felt just about the worst I had ever felt.

I heard a speaker on a tape last night who said that he hoped that all the newcomers in the room were feeling about the worst that they had ever felt – was he heartless? Not at all – he was simply hoping that if they had truly hit their bottom, then they might have a chance.

So I guess that I had a chance when I first came in. I stayed long enough to get sober from alcohol. But I wanted more, and so I kept on coming back. Members taught me to speak from the heart instead of from my head, and I started down a path of better emotional sobriety.

And then a senior member told me that I had to do a thorough 4th Step before I could be in a successful relationship. Eeek! She was so right – how could I possibly love someone else when I wasn’t sure that I loved myself? So full of fear, of self-loathing, of blame and disappointment – until I faced all that and let it go, I still wasn’t worthy.

Now I was at the point where if I wanted a heart, I was basically being told that I had to earn it – shades of the Tin Woodman asking Oz for his heart:

“I am a Woodman, and made of tin. Therefore I have no heart, and cannot love. I pray you to give me a heart that I may be as other men are.”
“Why should I do this?” demanded the Beast.
“Because I ask it, and you alone can grant my request,” answered the Woodman.
Oz gave a low growl at this, but said, gruffly: “If you indeed desire a heart, you must earn it.”

Honesty, Openness, and Willingness – the HOW of the AA program. I became honest with myself, stayed open to new ideas, and was willing to work the steps.

And somewhere along the way, I had a change of heart – a spiritual awakening, if you will. Something was at work here. Bill W. felt it, even though he was three sheets to the wind sitting across the kitchen table from Ebby, who was miraculously two months sober: 

Here was something at work in a human heart which had done the impossible.  My ideas about miracles were drastically revised right then. Never mind the musty past; here sat a miracle directly across the kitchen table…

My friend suggested what then seemed a novel idea.  He said, “Why don’t you choose your own conception of God?” That statement hit me hard.  It melted the icy intellectual mountain in whose shadow I had lived and shivered many years.  I stood in the sunlight at last. Big Book, Pgs. 11 & 12

I’m still not sure that I even know what my “own conception of God” really is, or even what I believe, but I know that Something up there seems to believe in me.

My change of heart allowed me to see again, through a new pair of glasses. I felt a love for my three daughters that had always been there simply keep on growing bigger. I felt a love in the rooms that I hadn’t seen before. And I wanted more, so I kept on coming back.

I’ve had love die before. I’ve had it end. And they say that when one door closes, another one opens. I happen to have the same opinion as the Tin Woodman:

“How about my heart?” asked the Tin Woodman.
“Why, as for that,” answered Oz, “I think you are wrong to want a heart. It makes most people unhappy. If you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart.”
“That must be a matter of opinion,” said the Tin Woodman. “For my part, I will bear all the unhappiness without a murmur, if you will give me the heart.”

I’m still not sure that I know what love is, unless it has something to do with butterflies in the stomach, my heart pounding in my ears, and the total inability to converse like a rational human being. And the time recently when I felt like that, I felt like a seventeen year old boy, foolishly asking a girl to the prom.

And that’s okay, because at least I know I have a heart again. At least I know that I am capable of love. And so much more. Sure beats the heck out of standing there and rusting in the forest:

“And I should not have had my lovely heart,” said the Tin Woodman. “I might have stood and rusted in the forest till the end of the world.”

Harry

“Do you think Oz could give me courage?” asked the Cowardly Lion.

“Just as easily as he could give me brains,” said the Scarecrow.

“Or give me a heart,” said the Tin Woodman.

“Or send me back to Kansas,” said Dorothy.

“Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll go with you,” said the Lion, “for my life is simply unbearable without a bit of courage.”  The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum

 

Life was simply unbearable without a bit of courage… and so it was for me – dealing with feelings of rejection and abandonment, I found my “bit of courage” – the liquid kind, the golden elixir of bravery – courage in a bottle. Booze gave me the ability to face my day, whatever it brought… at least until it stopped working.

And once I found the courage to call AA and to face my problems, I was filled with even more fear – for how the hell was I going to go through life without a drink to calm me down, without John Barleycorn to prop me up and face the coming maelstrom of change? Because I have heard so often “Change we must”. 

The Cowardly Lion was afraid of everything – he probably had more than the standard “hundred forms of fear” – and it took Dorothy’s tap on the nose to get him to admit it.

And several times in his journey along the Yellow Brick Road, the Lion took action – sometimes to protect his friends, sometimes to help them – such as the time they faced a great ditch that they had to pass, but saw no way around it:

“I am terribly afraid of falling, myself,” said the Cowardly Lion, “but I suppose there is nothing to do but try it. So get on my back and we will make the attempt.” 

 

So it was for me – I was terribly afraid of falling (off the wagon, not into a ditch). And eventually I found the courage to try things – practicing utmost honesty, learning patience, listening instead of debating. I made the attempt to do the steps.

More than once I was almost overcome by the fear, and found that it was when I had had enough of the fear and pain, that it gave me the impetus for change. When I backed up a step, found my footing and then made that “leap of faith”, I actually ended up on the other side of that ditch. Change!

I feared handing my will over – and I found the courage to let go of a rope forty feet in the air. Change!

I feared looking at myself to do a moral inventory – and with encouragement from my sponsor and others, I found the courage to talk about it with another human being. Change!

I feared getting ready to have my defects of character removed (what if some of those defects made me who I am?), and with help from others who had read “Drop the Rock“, I found the courage to change!

And now I find even more fear in making my amends – what if people don’t accept my amends? I hate confrontations – what if people argue and blame me and get angry and don’t forgive me? I’ve made four distinct amends already – and not one of them has turned out badly. So why am I so full of fear about making the rest of them?

Perhaps the answer lies within. And perhaps it’s because I haven’t found the courage to ask for courage from my HP – “Grant me the courage to change the things I can“. The lion asked the Wizard for his courage:

“But how about my courage?” asked the Lion anxiously.

“You have plenty of courage, I am sure,” answered Oz. “All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The True courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty.”

 

From Step 9:

As soon as we begin to feel confident in our new way of life and have begun, by our behavior and example, to convince those about us that we are indeed changing for the better, it is usually safe to talk in complete frankness with those who have been seriously affected, even those who may be only a little or not at all aware of what we have done to them. The only exceptions we will make will be cases where our disclosure would cause actual harm. These conversations can begin in a casual or natural way. But if no such opportunity presents itself, at some point we will want to summon all our courage, head straight for the person concerned, and lay our cards on the table. We needn’t wallow in excessive remorse before those we have harmed, but amends at this level should always be forthright and generous.  12&12 Pgs. 85-86

All that I need is to ask for courage, and I find out that I already had plenty of it inside – I just have to summon it and be rigorously honest – “Ain’t it the truth?”

Cowardly Lion: Read what my medal says: “Courage”. Ain’t it the truth? Ain’t it the truth?

Harry