Well, so much for the “one post per week” idea; it’s been an entire month. As we used to say in the Navy, “No excuse, sir.” I don’t actually need one. It’s my blog; I can post whenever I doggone well please. If you think I’m not doing it properly, that’s your problem. Deal with it.
All of which is offered with my tongue in cheek and brings me to the topic. The full quotation is, “What you think of me is none of my business.” It comes from some book or other which I have long since forgotten, and as I recall it’s original meaning was that we should quit worrying about what other people think of us. There was a lot of stuff about discarding the worry regarding other people’s opinions.
I took a slightly different message from it, though.
All my life I not only wanted people to like and approve of me, I wanted it to a degree that caused me to try to become who I thought they would like and approve of. I was not me, I was an actor; acting not one role, but many roles. I acted a different role in each environment and all of it was, of course, massively dishonest.
It worked at times and failed at times; some people liked me and others did not. But it was not the real me that they liked or disliked, it was the role that I was playing that formed their opinion. Part of me knew that and, needless to say, I lived in a vast gulf of loneliness.
Honesty precludes role playing and today it seems that most people who know me think rather well of me. I don’t ask, because I don’t really live my life based an any need for approval, so it isn't something that registers with me. What I do know is that, whether you like me or not, it’s now the real me that you like or dislike, and not some role that I’m playing.
So whatever your opinion is, I earned it and I can deal with it.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Enjoying Life
I'm a bit rushed these days, but I'm trying to maintain a post per week here. Many doctor appointments, as health has suffered another setback. Not only do I have little strokes happening once more, but a scan shows some little bleeding in my brain. The combination of blood clots forming one place and bleeding in another makes treatment options something of a challenge.
Life is full of challenges. Somebody told me that getting old sucks, but it beats the alternative. I disagree. Getting old does not suck. Even with all of the challenges that it presents, I love being old. I get a kick out of being an "old guy." I worked hard to get here and I'm enjoying every single day of it.
I look in the mirror and I'm not surprised by what I see. I see an old guy. I see a guy that looks a lot like my father. Well, that's pretty natural, and I could do worse. The older he got, the more he enjoyed life. Me too.
Life is full of challenges. Somebody told me that getting old sucks, but it beats the alternative. I disagree. Getting old does not suck. Even with all of the challenges that it presents, I love being old. I get a kick out of being an "old guy." I worked hard to get here and I'm enjoying every single day of it.
I look in the mirror and I'm not surprised by what I see. I see an old guy. I see a guy that looks a lot like my father. Well, that's pretty natural, and I could do worse. The older he got, the more he enjoyed life. Me too.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Purpose of Relationship
When entering into a relationship, I would suggest that we should ask ourselves a question, “What is the purpose of this relationship? What role is it going to play in my life?” If the answer has to do with meeting needs or creating our own happiness, then some second thoughts about relationship might be in order.
Picture yourself at the center of a set of concentric circles. Let each circle represent a level of your “community;” of that which “is” but is not “self.” What constitutes each circle will vary for each of us, but for most the inner one is the spouse or significant other. The next might be the birth family, or a support group. The next the community and then, working outward, the city, the nation, the environment… Surrounding everything is that “power greater than myself” which guides and provides the strength for daily life.
In the process, then, of “turning outward from self, toward others and toward God” my sense of self embraces all of that diagram so that I am no longer the center of it; all of it is part of me, all of it connects me to God and is part of my guidance and strength.
What role, then, does that relationship fulfill, sitting there as it does as the inner circle in my diagram? Or, if I have already made that happy turn, what role is that relationship going to play when I place there into my life?
If I am focused on what the relationship is doing for me, then wants and needs become confused, my view becomes clouded by unmet expectations and the role of that relationship in my life becomes an inward one and it is blocking me from the rest of my diagram. In my focus on the relationship’s contribution to my happiness or perceived needs I am creating an environment in which the relationship actually makes me smaller.
As I mentioned earlier in the approach to profession, when I see the relationship as an opportunity to contribute to something larger than myself, then its role is an outward one in my life and that relationship becomes a bridge to a larger me and a bridge to God. And in the process my needs get met and my happiness is abundantly increased; not by the relationship alone or by my efforts, but by the relationship and by the larger environment to which the relationship connects me.
Picture yourself at the center of a set of concentric circles. Let each circle represent a level of your “community;” of that which “is” but is not “self.” What constitutes each circle will vary for each of us, but for most the inner one is the spouse or significant other. The next might be the birth family, or a support group. The next the community and then, working outward, the city, the nation, the environment… Surrounding everything is that “power greater than myself” which guides and provides the strength for daily life.
In the process, then, of “turning outward from self, toward others and toward God” my sense of self embraces all of that diagram so that I am no longer the center of it; all of it is part of me, all of it connects me to God and is part of my guidance and strength.
What role, then, does that relationship fulfill, sitting there as it does as the inner circle in my diagram? Or, if I have already made that happy turn, what role is that relationship going to play when I place there into my life?
If I am focused on what the relationship is doing for me, then wants and needs become confused, my view becomes clouded by unmet expectations and the role of that relationship in my life becomes an inward one and it is blocking me from the rest of my diagram. In my focus on the relationship’s contribution to my happiness or perceived needs I am creating an environment in which the relationship actually makes me smaller.
As I mentioned earlier in the approach to profession, when I see the relationship as an opportunity to contribute to something larger than myself, then its role is an outward one in my life and that relationship becomes a bridge to a larger me and a bridge to God. And in the process my needs get met and my happiness is abundantly increased; not by the relationship alone or by my efforts, but by the relationship and by the larger environment to which the relationship connects me.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Unmet Expectations
There is a saying that the benefit derived from an endeavor will be proportional to the amount of energy or effort that one puts into the endeavor. That saying is applied to life itself, to relationships, to business enterprises, to learning opportunities… You name it.
I have no argument with that saying, except that it rather encourages a focus on the benefit to be derived. It sort of fosters a “what’s in this for me” way of thinking, albeit counterbalanced by a sense of responsibility to produce the effort required to garner the desired benefit.
Still, there is the “Prayer of Saint Francis” approach to life that leads to a peacefulness of a life free of unmet expectations. When one is focused not on the benefit to be derived from an endeavor, but rather on the reward of being able to contribute to that endeavor, then the endeavor itself becomes the reward, not by what it contributes to me, but simply by its existence. As such it cannot “let me down” because I am not measuring its delivery, I am but recognizing its being. I derive my reward simply by being a part of that endeavor.
Certainly when I practice my profession I derive from that an income which is my sustenance, the payment which provides for my needs. That is a reasonable and necessary expectation, and few professions fail to provide for that. What a profession may fail to provide is for “wants” which masquerade as “needs;” a better car, a new house, more or fancier clothing.
When I focus on the practice of my profession in terms of what I can contribute to it then my needs will be met and I will be at peace. When I focus on what my profession is giving to me I am at great risk of confusing wants and needs, of creating expectations that remain unmet and disrupting my sense of peace.
And the only thing that changed was the direction of my focus.
I have no argument with that saying, except that it rather encourages a focus on the benefit to be derived. It sort of fosters a “what’s in this for me” way of thinking, albeit counterbalanced by a sense of responsibility to produce the effort required to garner the desired benefit.
Still, there is the “Prayer of Saint Francis” approach to life that leads to a peacefulness of a life free of unmet expectations. When one is focused not on the benefit to be derived from an endeavor, but rather on the reward of being able to contribute to that endeavor, then the endeavor itself becomes the reward, not by what it contributes to me, but simply by its existence. As such it cannot “let me down” because I am not measuring its delivery, I am but recognizing its being. I derive my reward simply by being a part of that endeavor.
Certainly when I practice my profession I derive from that an income which is my sustenance, the payment which provides for my needs. That is a reasonable and necessary expectation, and few professions fail to provide for that. What a profession may fail to provide is for “wants” which masquerade as “needs;” a better car, a new house, more or fancier clothing.
When I focus on the practice of my profession in terms of what I can contribute to it then my needs will be met and I will be at peace. When I focus on what my profession is giving to me I am at great risk of confusing wants and needs, of creating expectations that remain unmet and disrupting my sense of peace.
And the only thing that changed was the direction of my focus.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The Freedom of Being Wrong
"When two people hold diametrically opposite points of view, the truth does not necessarily lie somewhere in between. It is possible that one of them is simply wrong."
Being able to be wrong is a freedom greatly to be sought. There is huge relief in being able to let go, admit fault, make amends and move on. Being right all the time is hard work, really hard work, and being right in an indefensible position is utterly exhausting.
Some of the most rewarding apologies I have made, though, have been ones that I have made when I did not even think that I was wrong; apologies made because the relationship needed for me to make them. The situation was that the relationship was being damaged and I could repair it with an apology, and it was time to “man up” and remember that a relationship is bigger than self.
If you have not experienced that I cannot describe it, but doing that expands one’s sense of self, and cements one’s place in the relationship in way that is far more rewarding than being right.
Being able to be wrong is a freedom greatly to be sought. There is huge relief in being able to let go, admit fault, make amends and move on. Being right all the time is hard work, really hard work, and being right in an indefensible position is utterly exhausting.
Some of the most rewarding apologies I have made, though, have been ones that I have made when I did not even think that I was wrong; apologies made because the relationship needed for me to make them. The situation was that the relationship was being damaged and I could repair it with an apology, and it was time to “man up” and remember that a relationship is bigger than self.
If you have not experienced that I cannot describe it, but doing that expands one’s sense of self, and cements one’s place in the relationship in way that is far more rewarding than being right.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Thinking Globally
I’m sort of on a kick of the “thinking outside of self” thing lately. It has so many ramifications for expanding my life and reducing the impact of the vicissitudes that life tends to bring along. Those things are just life happening, but it is altogether too easy to take them personally. To ask “Why is this happening to me?”
When I get wet in a rainstorm, it is not because it is raining inside of me. It is raining globally and the rain is falling on me. The rain is not happening to me, it is merely happening, and I am feeling the effect of that global event. I’m not alone, either, others are getting rained on as well.
I cannot make it stop raining, or alter the nature of the rain, but I can mitigate the effect of that rain by carrying an umbrella.
Some things are easy to perceive as global events, others less so. When I can perceive my emphysema, cardiac arrhythmias and Parkinson’s Disease as nothing more, nor less, than life happening, as global events of which I am feeling the effects, along with many others, then the “goodness” or “badness” of those things lies not in the things themselves, but in the nature and degree of their effect on my life. That effect, in significant measure, is within my power to determine.
My spiritual condition is my umbrella. Who I am does not depend on how my body feels or how well it functions. (Actually quite well, all things considered.) Who I am is both more and less central than that; it is the inner me that reaches out, and in reaching out becomes much more than self.
When I get wet in a rainstorm, it is not because it is raining inside of me. It is raining globally and the rain is falling on me. The rain is not happening to me, it is merely happening, and I am feeling the effect of that global event. I’m not alone, either, others are getting rained on as well.
I cannot make it stop raining, or alter the nature of the rain, but I can mitigate the effect of that rain by carrying an umbrella.
Some things are easy to perceive as global events, others less so. When I can perceive my emphysema, cardiac arrhythmias and Parkinson’s Disease as nothing more, nor less, than life happening, as global events of which I am feeling the effects, along with many others, then the “goodness” or “badness” of those things lies not in the things themselves, but in the nature and degree of their effect on my life. That effect, in significant measure, is within my power to determine.
My spiritual condition is my umbrella. Who I am does not depend on how my body feels or how well it functions. (Actually quite well, all things considered.) Who I am is both more and less central than that; it is the inner me that reaches out, and in reaching out becomes much more than self.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Expanding One's Horizon
In “Rain, Rain Go Away” I spoke of getting out of myself and turning outward toward others. When I do that the sense of who I am, the experience of self, does not go away. I do not get lost in that process at all.
I served in the Navy. When one is standing on the deck of a ship the horizon is seven miles away. As you climb up into the superstructure of the ship the horizon recedes farther and farther into the distance; the amount of the universe that is within the scope of your vision expands. At the top of the periscope sheers the horizon is twenty-two miles away and the area of your visible world has gone from 38 square miles to 380. You are no less aware of the ship beneath you, you are just more aware of the ocean upon which that ship rides.
That’s what getting out of one’s self is like. As my journey continued my sense of who I am grew to embrace an ever wider scope of my community; of everything, everyone, who “is” but is not “me.”
“No man is an island” indeed.
The needs of that community are no longer in conflict with my needs, even when those needs differ, because that community is part of me. When I put aside my wants for the good of my community I do not feel any sense of loss, for I am serving the needs of something of which I am a part. I can do that with a very real sense of peace.
Climb up and expand your world. Yes, there are some storm clouds on that expanding horizon, but there are some exciting new worlds to explore, too.
I served in the Navy. When one is standing on the deck of a ship the horizon is seven miles away. As you climb up into the superstructure of the ship the horizon recedes farther and farther into the distance; the amount of the universe that is within the scope of your vision expands. At the top of the periscope sheers the horizon is twenty-two miles away and the area of your visible world has gone from 38 square miles to 380. You are no less aware of the ship beneath you, you are just more aware of the ocean upon which that ship rides.
That’s what getting out of one’s self is like. As my journey continued my sense of who I am grew to embrace an ever wider scope of my community; of everything, everyone, who “is” but is not “me.”
“No man is an island” indeed.
The needs of that community are no longer in conflict with my needs, even when those needs differ, because that community is part of me. When I put aside my wants for the good of my community I do not feel any sense of loss, for I am serving the needs of something of which I am a part. I can do that with a very real sense of peace.
Climb up and expand your world. Yes, there are some storm clouds on that expanding horizon, but there are some exciting new worlds to explore, too.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Important Words
In a segment regarding objections to President Obama's speech at Notre Dame, Keith Olbermann asked Dr. Whelan about the motives of the bishops who were voicing objection to the event."I think we have to be careful to pass judgement on the individuals who have spoken out," was the way he began his response.
A kind and thoughtful man, willing to listen to the words of another, not judgementally but with an open mind even in the midst of political discourse. Would that the arena of public debate contained more such men.
Words to live by in all aspects of daily life. "Be careful to pass judgement."
Friday, May 08, 2009
Rain, Rain Go Away
Rain is a bad thing if you are having a parade or a picnic; it’s a good thing if you are a farmer. Reality is that rain is just rain; intrinsically neutral. The “good” and “bad” are value judgements that we apply to rain, and we apply those labels based on how rain affects us. The value, then, is on how the rain touches our self interest, not on the rain itself.
When I can look at life without looking through the lens of self interest then I am freed of the need to judge things as being good or bad.
Getting out of myself is central to what this journey is all about. Turning outward from self, toward others and toward a larger world. Being able to see things as being neither more nor less than life happening.
Discarding the need for judgement is a tangible and very real freedom. It simplifies my life. It leads me to see things differently. It helps me to accept things and to integrate those things into my life. It helps me to integrate my life into the greater sphere of life as a whole. Everything is life happening and that includes me; all part of life, all flowing in the same direction.
I am not going to try to convince you that the severe emphysema which I experience today is a good thing, nor the heart problem, nor the Parkinson’s Disease. These things are just “things,” though, they are life happening. They are not happening “to me.” They are happening globally and I am experiencing them; as are many other people. I am not alone.
The degree to which these things are “good” or “bad” is in part the degree to which they affect me and that, in significant measure, is something which is within my power to determine. To the degree which I can make that determination I will do so. As to those things which I cannot change, I will bear and be strengthened by them, because I can choose to do that.
In a larger sense the degree to which these things are “good” or “bad” is the degree to which they touch upon my self interest and when my vision is not clouded by the lens of self interest, then the terms simply have no meaning and I am freed from the need to even make that judgement.
And that, dear friends, is a truly liberating experience.
When I can look at life without looking through the lens of self interest then I am freed of the need to judge things as being good or bad.
Getting out of myself is central to what this journey is all about. Turning outward from self, toward others and toward a larger world. Being able to see things as being neither more nor less than life happening.
Discarding the need for judgement is a tangible and very real freedom. It simplifies my life. It leads me to see things differently. It helps me to accept things and to integrate those things into my life. It helps me to integrate my life into the greater sphere of life as a whole. Everything is life happening and that includes me; all part of life, all flowing in the same direction.
I am not going to try to convince you that the severe emphysema which I experience today is a good thing, nor the heart problem, nor the Parkinson’s Disease. These things are just “things,” though, they are life happening. They are not happening “to me.” They are happening globally and I am experiencing them; as are many other people. I am not alone.
The degree to which these things are “good” or “bad” is in part the degree to which they affect me and that, in significant measure, is something which is within my power to determine. To the degree which I can make that determination I will do so. As to those things which I cannot change, I will bear and be strengthened by them, because I can choose to do that.
In a larger sense the degree to which these things are “good” or “bad” is the degree to which they touch upon my self interest and when my vision is not clouded by the lens of self interest, then the terms simply have no meaning and I am freed from the need to even make that judgement.
And that, dear friends, is a truly liberating experience.
I'm Back
I'm not really sure why I have not been active on this blog for such a long while. It's not that I'm not thinking on subjects related to the journey, since I still meditate in a formal sense at least once daily, and informally throughout the day as much as ever. I guess, I have just sort of gotten caught up in other writing efforts and let this one slide. I'm going to try to be more attentive to writing thoughts on the Journey, although it still will not be particularly frequent.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Celebrating Sobriety
Twenty-five years today, one quarter of a century, 9131 days.
I’m actually at something of a loss for anything to say about it. I sort of quit “celebrating birthdays” some years ago, as sobriety is for me just a natural state of being that seems timeless any more. It’s who I am.
It’s not that I’m not grateful. I’m more grateful now than ever, not because my life is so good but rather because there are “bumps” in my life, some rather bad ones involving health issues, and they are not discoloring my life or causing me to live in fear as they certainly would be doing without the discipline of sobriety.
There are a number of meanings for the word “discipline.” I’m using two here; “a branch of knowledge or teaching,” a state which I have reached following years of practicing a “training expected to produce a specific character or pattern of behavior, especially training that produces spiritual and mental improvement.”
Okay, I’ll admit I changed that second definition just slightly, but…
If I was strolling on the beach and found a lamp buried in the sand, picked it up and rubbed it, and a genie appeared who told me I could change anything I wanted to about my life, I would tell it to go back in the lamp.
I am at peace with life today. My life is precisely the way it is supposed to be at this moment in time. As strange as I seems, I would not even change the fact that I have Parkinson’s Disease.
Acceptance is not a cafeteria or, as Joe Kelley once said, “You can’t be a little bit pregnant.” I either accept life or I don’t. As soon as I begin to feel that one thing could be better, that acceptance and the peace that stems from it is harmed.
And, to no small degree the destination is shaped by the journey. Part of where I am today has been shaped by hearing the doctor tell me I had that disease, by coming to terms with it, by learning to live with it. Take that away and I would not be in this place. Who knows, the place that I would be in might be okay, might even be better, but it would not be where I am right now, and where I am right now is exactly where I am supposed to be.
I don’t know why, and I don’t need to.
I came to this program with many great questions about life, important questions for which I wanted, demanded, answers. I did not get those answers, but something better happened.
The questions went away.
I’m actually at something of a loss for anything to say about it. I sort of quit “celebrating birthdays” some years ago, as sobriety is for me just a natural state of being that seems timeless any more. It’s who I am.
It’s not that I’m not grateful. I’m more grateful now than ever, not because my life is so good but rather because there are “bumps” in my life, some rather bad ones involving health issues, and they are not discoloring my life or causing me to live in fear as they certainly would be doing without the discipline of sobriety.
There are a number of meanings for the word “discipline.” I’m using two here; “a branch of knowledge or teaching,” a state which I have reached following years of practicing a “training expected to produce a specific character or pattern of behavior, especially training that produces spiritual and mental improvement.”
Okay, I’ll admit I changed that second definition just slightly, but…
If I was strolling on the beach and found a lamp buried in the sand, picked it up and rubbed it, and a genie appeared who told me I could change anything I wanted to about my life, I would tell it to go back in the lamp.
I am at peace with life today. My life is precisely the way it is supposed to be at this moment in time. As strange as I seems, I would not even change the fact that I have Parkinson’s Disease.
Acceptance is not a cafeteria or, as Joe Kelley once said, “You can’t be a little bit pregnant.” I either accept life or I don’t. As soon as I begin to feel that one thing could be better, that acceptance and the peace that stems from it is harmed.
And, to no small degree the destination is shaped by the journey. Part of where I am today has been shaped by hearing the doctor tell me I had that disease, by coming to terms with it, by learning to live with it. Take that away and I would not be in this place. Who knows, the place that I would be in might be okay, might even be better, but it would not be where I am right now, and where I am right now is exactly where I am supposed to be.
I don’t know why, and I don’t need to.
I came to this program with many great questions about life, important questions for which I wanted, demanded, answers. I did not get those answers, but something better happened.
The questions went away.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Not Talking to God
The eleventh step suggests that we seek "through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God" and that is, perhaps, not as obvious a thing as it seems. The second part of that step mentions knowing God’s will for us.
Hearing all this stuff in the early days, I once asked Joe Kelly how I could know what God’s will was for me and he just smiled and replied, "When you want to know, you’ll know." I asked if God would tell me and he shook his head and repeated what he had said, adding "You won’t be in any doubt."
It was a bit frustrating to me at the time because I felt that he was being deliberately obscure and I didn’t understand what he was getting at.
Sometimes I’m a little slow, but I get there eventually.
Prayer and meditation are different things to different people. Each of us has to explore and find the way that works for us. I cannot tell another person how they should perform this daily discipline. I can only share what works for me, and that is best summed up in three short stories.
There is a line from the bible that has always seemed to me to have great power, and when I say always I mean since long before I stopped drinking. Long before I had any real conscious contact with God this line impacted me whenever I heard it. I don’t know where it is in the bible and I don’t really care. I use that line today as a nexus for meditation. It goes,
Be still and know that I am God.
When I lived in Tucson there was a column in the daily paper written by a Benedictine monk. I read that column exactly once the whole time I lived there, and I don’t remember what it was actually about or why I read it the one time I did, but in it I was given this,
Prayer is not something I do, but rather prayer is something that God causes to happen within me when I am still.
Then there is a story about a reporter and Mother Teresa that I like. The reporter asked Mother Teresa how often she prayed.
"I always pray," she replied, "I’m never not praying."
The reporter asked her what she said when she prayed.
"I don’t say anything when I pray," she replied. "I just listen."
The reporter asked, if she was just listening, what did God say.
"God doesn’t say anything either." she replied. "God listens too."
The reporter, baffled, didn’t even know what to ask next.
"If I need to explain that," Mother Teresa said, seeing the reporter's confusion, "you won’t understand the explanation."
She sounds like Joe Kelly.
We are told that prayer has great power, and I do not doubt that. But for me prayer alone does not establish an ongoing conscious contact with God until I add stillness, until I stop talking and listen. The more carefully I listen, the more I realize that listening is all I really need to do.
Mother Teresa and Joe Kelly planted that seed.
There is a joke about God saying something to the effect of "It must be 7AM, here come all those alcoholics with their 24-hour books."
I am not mocking the practice of daily morning meditation, nor do I mock any method or usage of that discipline. Quite the opposite. I start each day with a period of formal meditation whenever I reasonably can. There are times that a "fast start" for a doctor’s appointment, to catch a plane or something similar mitigates against my usual morning discipline, and when that happens it does not by any means ruin, or even disturb my day.
Morning session or not, I meditate throughout the day as frequently as opportunity presents, at length when possible, sometimes only a minute or so, taking myself away from the noise of my surrounding and being still, being entirely focused on listening. Allowing God to create prayer within me.
More important, for me, is to use the meditation to create an art of listening that I can maintain as a constant state of my being. So that I can be, like Mother Teresa, never not praying. Always listening.
Hearing all this stuff in the early days, I once asked Joe Kelly how I could know what God’s will was for me and he just smiled and replied, "When you want to know, you’ll know." I asked if God would tell me and he shook his head and repeated what he had said, adding "You won’t be in any doubt."
It was a bit frustrating to me at the time because I felt that he was being deliberately obscure and I didn’t understand what he was getting at.
Sometimes I’m a little slow, but I get there eventually.
Prayer and meditation are different things to different people. Each of us has to explore and find the way that works for us. I cannot tell another person how they should perform this daily discipline. I can only share what works for me, and that is best summed up in three short stories.
There is a line from the bible that has always seemed to me to have great power, and when I say always I mean since long before I stopped drinking. Long before I had any real conscious contact with God this line impacted me whenever I heard it. I don’t know where it is in the bible and I don’t really care. I use that line today as a nexus for meditation. It goes,Be still and know that I am God.
When I lived in Tucson there was a column in the daily paper written by a Benedictine monk. I read that column exactly once the whole time I lived there, and I don’t remember what it was actually about or why I read it the one time I did, but in it I was given this,Prayer is not something I do, but rather prayer is something that God causes to happen within me when I am still.
Then there is a story about a reporter and Mother Teresa that I like. The reporter asked Mother Teresa how often she prayed."I always pray," she replied, "I’m never not praying."
The reporter asked her what she said when she prayed.
"I don’t say anything when I pray," she replied. "I just listen."
The reporter asked, if she was just listening, what did God say.
"God doesn’t say anything either." she replied. "God listens too."
The reporter, baffled, didn’t even know what to ask next.
"If I need to explain that," Mother Teresa said, seeing the reporter's confusion, "you won’t understand the explanation."
She sounds like Joe Kelly.
We are told that prayer has great power, and I do not doubt that. But for me prayer alone does not establish an ongoing conscious contact with God until I add stillness, until I stop talking and listen. The more carefully I listen, the more I realize that listening is all I really need to do.
Mother Teresa and Joe Kelly planted that seed.
There is a joke about God saying something to the effect of "It must be 7AM, here come all those alcoholics with their 24-hour books."
I am not mocking the practice of daily morning meditation, nor do I mock any method or usage of that discipline. Quite the opposite. I start each day with a period of formal meditation whenever I reasonably can. There are times that a "fast start" for a doctor’s appointment, to catch a plane or something similar mitigates against my usual morning discipline, and when that happens it does not by any means ruin, or even disturb my day.
Morning session or not, I meditate throughout the day as frequently as opportunity presents, at length when possible, sometimes only a minute or so, taking myself away from the noise of my surrounding and being still, being entirely focused on listening. Allowing God to create prayer within me.
More important, for me, is to use the meditation to create an art of listening that I can maintain as a constant state of my being. So that I can be, like Mother Teresa, never not praying. Always listening.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Expectations Exceeded
"If I do not ask God for things, if I rather ask for direction and strength and I focus on what I am putting into life rather than on what I am getting out of it, then God gives to me things that are better than anything I would have thought to ask for."
That was given to me by a man named John C. many years ago, and I have to tell you it has proven to be absolutely consistent with my experience.
When I started on this journey into sobriety I didn’t know what to expect. What it has given me has not only exceeded whatever expectations I might have had, it has given me things I would never have thought to want, would never have known were desirable.
When I was a kid I always wanted an electric train, and one Christmas my dad gave me a locomotive kit. Not the electric train I wanted, but a kit to be built. I was actually disappointed that I couldn’t put it on the track and run it but it helped when he said he would help me build the kit.
Fifty years later, though no longer active in model railroading, I still have that locomotive that my dad helped me with, the first model that I ever built. It is a treasure that I will not part with. And I still have a passion for building models: trains, cars, ships, planes…
Dad knew me, you see. He heard what I said, but he knew what would really work for me and he provided it. It turned out to be a better gift than what I had asked for.
If we focus on our wants we often live lives of frustration and disappointment. When we "take charge" and get what we want, we may have gotten in the way of God providing us with something that would have served us better. When we let go God tends to provide us with what really works for us rather than what we think we want.
"..God gives to me things that are better than anything I would have thought to ask for."
That was given to me by a man named John C. many years ago, and I have to tell you it has proven to be absolutely consistent with my experience.
When I started on this journey into sobriety I didn’t know what to expect. What it has given me has not only exceeded whatever expectations I might have had, it has given me things I would never have thought to want, would never have known were desirable.
When I was a kid I always wanted an electric train, and one Christmas my dad gave me a locomotive kit. Not the electric train I wanted, but a kit to be built. I was actually disappointed that I couldn’t put it on the track and run it but it helped when he said he would help me build the kit.
Fifty years later, though no longer active in model railroading, I still have that locomotive that my dad helped me with, the first model that I ever built. It is a treasure that I will not part with. And I still have a passion for building models: trains, cars, ships, planes…
Dad knew me, you see. He heard what I said, but he knew what would really work for me and he provided it. It turned out to be a better gift than what I had asked for.
If we focus on our wants we often live lives of frustration and disappointment. When we "take charge" and get what we want, we may have gotten in the way of God providing us with something that would have served us better. When we let go God tends to provide us with what really works for us rather than what we think we want.
"..God gives to me things that are better than anything I would have thought to ask for."
Saturday, October 21, 2006
On Becoming Fearless
Arianna Huffington has a book out with the same title as this post. It’s about going through life consumed by fear and overcoming that issue, learning to live confidently. I haven’t read it yet, but I plan to because that is a subject dear to my heart.
Ever since I can remember I was pretty much consumed by fear. I’m not talking about the pulse pounding, heart in your throat, “Oh shit we’re all going to die” kind of fear. Actually, in those situations I’ve always done okay. I’m talking about the “I don’t think I can do this,” or “they aren’t going to like me,” or “they’re going to find out I’m a fake” or (perhaps the most corrosive) “she doesn’t really love me and is going to leave” kind of fear.
Pretty much everything I thought or did was driven by this pervasive, destructive fear, and the result was not pretty. It turned me inward and created a self-centered, arrogant, angry person. The fear of being alone caused a grasping attempt at control that created the very loneliness that I feared. It was an endless downward spiral of alcohol-fueled self destruction. At the root of it was the relentless fear that ate at me every waking moment.
I embarked on the solution more than twenty years ago when I began the journey into sobriety. Faith and fear cannot coexist, and in the spiritual environment in which I learned to live sober they understood my fear and showed me the steps to shed the fear and replace it with faith and trust.
Several years ago I experienced the first of several health issues when I had a series of strokes. Small ones, but cause for concern because the doctors could not figure out what was causing them. They still don’t know. Then my heart experienced severe arrhythmia’s, caused by emphysema that I’ve had for more than twenty years. That has been partially, but only partially, corrected by a surgery. Then I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.
Thanks to excellent foresight and hard work on my wife’s part, I have excellent health insurance. All of these conditions are being controlled very nicely at this point, and the doctors tell us that the Parkinson’s is not the dread disease that it once was. But clearly the future is likely to hold challenges. We would be kidding ourselves to think otherwise.
What has been missing throughout this adventure, and remains missing today, is any element of fear. Is that weird, or what? All those years of living fearfully without reason and now, with health issues that actually are a threat, and I am living fearlessly. It’s not like I’ve dealt with any fear, it simply has not arisen.
Now, it may be that I have simply lost my mind. I’m not the one to provide any kind of authoritative evaluation of that. When you lose your mind you don’t miss it because you don’t have anything to miss it with. But my wife says I’m pretty much together at this point (she makes allowance for the fact that I served in submarines, and we are all a little bit “off”), so we’ll rule out the lost mind hypothesis.
There are, I believe, two things that contribute to my lack of fear today. I don’t yet know how Arianna Huffington does it, but here’s my formula.
The first is that whatever my health conditions may do to me in the future is just that, in the future, and through the disciplines I have learned in the journey into sobriety I have become quite good at living in the present. I make whatever preparations for tomorrow that are within my power, and then I let go and live in today. That is more easily said than done, but I’ve been practicing it for a couple of dozen years and by the time I really needed it I had gotten quite good at actually doing it.
The other, and more important, reason is that I have a sure and certain knowledge that there is a power greater than myself that will provide the guidance and strength to see me through whatever may happen. That knowledge came to me through the same mechanisms that led me to sobriety and taught me to live one day at a time. It did not happen all at once, no “burning bush” moment, but by the time I really needed that knowledge it was there.
The side effects of sobriety. Nothing ever happens by chance.
Ever since I can remember I was pretty much consumed by fear. I’m not talking about the pulse pounding, heart in your throat, “Oh shit we’re all going to die” kind of fear. Actually, in those situations I’ve always done okay. I’m talking about the “I don’t think I can do this,” or “they aren’t going to like me,” or “they’re going to find out I’m a fake” or (perhaps the most corrosive) “she doesn’t really love me and is going to leave” kind of fear.
Pretty much everything I thought or did was driven by this pervasive, destructive fear, and the result was not pretty. It turned me inward and created a self-centered, arrogant, angry person. The fear of being alone caused a grasping attempt at control that created the very loneliness that I feared. It was an endless downward spiral of alcohol-fueled self destruction. At the root of it was the relentless fear that ate at me every waking moment.
I embarked on the solution more than twenty years ago when I began the journey into sobriety. Faith and fear cannot coexist, and in the spiritual environment in which I learned to live sober they understood my fear and showed me the steps to shed the fear and replace it with faith and trust.
Several years ago I experienced the first of several health issues when I had a series of strokes. Small ones, but cause for concern because the doctors could not figure out what was causing them. They still don’t know. Then my heart experienced severe arrhythmia’s, caused by emphysema that I’ve had for more than twenty years. That has been partially, but only partially, corrected by a surgery. Then I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.
Thanks to excellent foresight and hard work on my wife’s part, I have excellent health insurance. All of these conditions are being controlled very nicely at this point, and the doctors tell us that the Parkinson’s is not the dread disease that it once was. But clearly the future is likely to hold challenges. We would be kidding ourselves to think otherwise.
What has been missing throughout this adventure, and remains missing today, is any element of fear. Is that weird, or what? All those years of living fearfully without reason and now, with health issues that actually are a threat, and I am living fearlessly. It’s not like I’ve dealt with any fear, it simply has not arisen.
Now, it may be that I have simply lost my mind. I’m not the one to provide any kind of authoritative evaluation of that. When you lose your mind you don’t miss it because you don’t have anything to miss it with. But my wife says I’m pretty much together at this point (she makes allowance for the fact that I served in submarines, and we are all a little bit “off”), so we’ll rule out the lost mind hypothesis.
There are, I believe, two things that contribute to my lack of fear today. I don’t yet know how Arianna Huffington does it, but here’s my formula.
The first is that whatever my health conditions may do to me in the future is just that, in the future, and through the disciplines I have learned in the journey into sobriety I have become quite good at living in the present. I make whatever preparations for tomorrow that are within my power, and then I let go and live in today. That is more easily said than done, but I’ve been practicing it for a couple of dozen years and by the time I really needed it I had gotten quite good at actually doing it.
The other, and more important, reason is that I have a sure and certain knowledge that there is a power greater than myself that will provide the guidance and strength to see me through whatever may happen. That knowledge came to me through the same mechanisms that led me to sobriety and taught me to live one day at a time. It did not happen all at once, no “burning bush” moment, but by the time I really needed that knowledge it was there.
The side effects of sobriety. Nothing ever happens by chance.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Sharing the Road
Sometimes a minor life experience can be a major lesson in living life.
When I worked in North County part of my drive to work was a two-lane, winding road, about ten miles, where it was mostly double yellow line – no passing. Every so often there was a sort of turn-out where one could move aside and let another car past, and it was my habit to do that whenever someone who was driving faster than I was caught up with me.
Some drivers went slower than I did and they usually made use of those turnouts to let me by. We all cohabited on that road quite comfortably. Well, there was an occasional speeder and once in a while a wreck, but…
One afternoon on my way home I caught up with a guy driving a jeep and followed along awaiting an opportunity to pass. He seemed to feel that I was following too closely and started tapping his brakes and giving me gestures to tell me that I was “number one,” all of which I thought was rather silly. I didn’t think I was all that close, maybe two car lengths at 25 mph, and I wanted to be close enough that I would be able to use a passing opportunity when it arose.
When we got to one of the turn-outs he didn’t use it, forcing me to continue following him. He also continued to make gestures, waving and making “pushing” signs, tapping his brakes, flipping me off, etc. The more frantically he attempted to get me to move away from him, and the more turnouts we passed without him allowing me to pass, the more amused I became.
Do I need to tell you I did not increase my distance?
By the time we got to the end of that road he was practically foaming at the mouth and I was actually laughing out loud. There had been numerous opportunities for him to get me “off of his tail” by allowing me to pass, but he had failed utterly in his efforts to “do it his way.”
In addition to my amusement I was grateful for the moment, for I realized it had solidified for me an important lesson.
If I try to secure my comfort zone by controlling the behavior of others I am doomed to a life of frustration, anger and disappointment. When I simply “share the road” with others, life is really good.
That seems too simple to be valid, but it really does work. It not only works, it is an absolute monster of a stress reliever. It’s effective in the workplace, in social settings, and even in dealing within a homeowners association (where it’s often really essential in order to maintain any shred of sanity).
It works in my marriage too, although it does require that we sometimes work together on how that “road share” is going to be accomplished. It is important for me to remember that we are talking together about how we are going to share the road, and that me telling my wife what I need from her is only one small part of the discussion, that it's not about me getting her to change her behavior to make me comfortable.
Sharing the road. It’s not just for cars.
When I worked in North County part of my drive to work was a two-lane, winding road, about ten miles, where it was mostly double yellow line – no passing. Every so often there was a sort of turn-out where one could move aside and let another car past, and it was my habit to do that whenever someone who was driving faster than I was caught up with me.
Some drivers went slower than I did and they usually made use of those turnouts to let me by. We all cohabited on that road quite comfortably. Well, there was an occasional speeder and once in a while a wreck, but…
One afternoon on my way home I caught up with a guy driving a jeep and followed along awaiting an opportunity to pass. He seemed to feel that I was following too closely and started tapping his brakes and giving me gestures to tell me that I was “number one,” all of which I thought was rather silly. I didn’t think I was all that close, maybe two car lengths at 25 mph, and I wanted to be close enough that I would be able to use a passing opportunity when it arose.
When we got to one of the turn-outs he didn’t use it, forcing me to continue following him. He also continued to make gestures, waving and making “pushing” signs, tapping his brakes, flipping me off, etc. The more frantically he attempted to get me to move away from him, and the more turnouts we passed without him allowing me to pass, the more amused I became.
Do I need to tell you I did not increase my distance?
By the time we got to the end of that road he was practically foaming at the mouth and I was actually laughing out loud. There had been numerous opportunities for him to get me “off of his tail” by allowing me to pass, but he had failed utterly in his efforts to “do it his way.”
In addition to my amusement I was grateful for the moment, for I realized it had solidified for me an important lesson.
If I try to secure my comfort zone by controlling the behavior of others I am doomed to a life of frustration, anger and disappointment. When I simply “share the road” with others, life is really good.
That seems too simple to be valid, but it really does work. It not only works, it is an absolute monster of a stress reliever. It’s effective in the workplace, in social settings, and even in dealing within a homeowners association (where it’s often really essential in order to maintain any shred of sanity).
It works in my marriage too, although it does require that we sometimes work together on how that “road share” is going to be accomplished. It is important for me to remember that we are talking together about how we are going to share the road, and that me telling my wife what I need from her is only one small part of the discussion, that it's not about me getting her to change her behavior to make me comfortable.
Sharing the road. It’s not just for cars.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
The Power of Faith
Joe said to me once, “Believing in God is easy. I can do that with the thinking part of my mind. Trusting God is harder, because trusting God requires faith.” I asked him how I could get that faith and he smiled. “I would suggest,” he said, “that you ask God to give you that gift.”
You see, faith is not something that we can do for ourselves. We cannot think ourselves into it, create it with discipline, or have it by wearing the team shirt. Faith comes by being in the company of those who have faith and allowing that faith to flow into us through them.
That company might be a twelve-step group, or a church or whatever. The source of faith is ultimately God and the people through whom we receive it are but the instruments.
And faith has great power.
I was channel surfing one night many years ago and don’t know why I stopped to watch this preacher, I never watch that sort of thing on television. This guy had a kind of cheerful expression, though, and looked like he was enjoying himself.
He was talking about faith and asked, “What is faith?” Answering himself he went on “Webster,” he said “defines faith as ‘belief without proof’.” He then got a puzzled look and allowed as how that didn’t tell him much about faith. “What role does faith play in my life?” he went on, “What does it do for me?”
He took out a bible in which he had marked passages and turned to one of them. He named the book, chapter and verse and then quoted,
“Faith makes us certain of realities we do not see.”
That powerful statement has been a guide for me from that day to this, and I have quoted it often.
The guidance and direction that God offers to me on a daily basis, the strength to live my life, are realities. They are not figures of speech. They are not metaphors that are written in books to make me feel good. I cannot see them or touch them but they are realities, and it is faith that makes me certain of them.
Certain not only in the sense that I know they are there now, but certain in the sense that I know I can rely on them, I can trust that they will be there tomorrow.
Certainty that says that with guidance and strength from God as my constant companions I can live my life free from fear.
That is the power that faith has.
You see, faith is not something that we can do for ourselves. We cannot think ourselves into it, create it with discipline, or have it by wearing the team shirt. Faith comes by being in the company of those who have faith and allowing that faith to flow into us through them.
That company might be a twelve-step group, or a church or whatever. The source of faith is ultimately God and the people through whom we receive it are but the instruments.
And faith has great power.
I was channel surfing one night many years ago and don’t know why I stopped to watch this preacher, I never watch that sort of thing on television. This guy had a kind of cheerful expression, though, and looked like he was enjoying himself.
He was talking about faith and asked, “What is faith?” Answering himself he went on “Webster,” he said “defines faith as ‘belief without proof’.” He then got a puzzled look and allowed as how that didn’t tell him much about faith. “What role does faith play in my life?” he went on, “What does it do for me?”
He took out a bible in which he had marked passages and turned to one of them. He named the book, chapter and verse and then quoted,
“Faith makes us certain of realities we do not see.”
That powerful statement has been a guide for me from that day to this, and I have quoted it often.
The guidance and direction that God offers to me on a daily basis, the strength to live my life, are realities. They are not figures of speech. They are not metaphors that are written in books to make me feel good. I cannot see them or touch them but they are realities, and it is faith that makes me certain of them.
Certain not only in the sense that I know they are there now, but certain in the sense that I know I can rely on them, I can trust that they will be there tomorrow.
Certainty that says that with guidance and strength from God as my constant companions I can live my life free from fear.
That is the power that faith has.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Introducing Myself
As implied by the text below my profile, I have been sober a bit over twenty-four years. That's not a big deal, it just means that I haven't taken a drink and I haven't died. I've done it one day at a time just like everybody else. In the early years the "taking a drink" part was a close call a few times, and the past few years the "dying" part has been a little too close for comfort once or twice with emphysema, heart problems, strokes and a couple other issues.
But I'm still here, giving joy to some people and headaches to others. Some people are glad about that, some disappointed, but few are ambivalent. I'm not the kind of guy about whom people tend to be ambivalent. One friend told me the reason I'm not dead yet is that I'm not bad enough to go to Hell, but God doesn't want me in Heaven stirring the place up with a stick.
I have been known, you see, to voice opinions on this and that. I have also learned, these past two dozen years, that mine is not the only opinion, and that my opinion may very well be wrong. But, as another friend told me, "You sometimes tick people off, Bill, but you tend to make them think."
That, however, is for another time and another place; giving voice to opinion is not really my purpose here. Some opinions may creep in, but my purpose here is to share the joy that I have experienced in the spiritual growth that has been, for me, the process of recovery from alcoholism.
Someone asked me once about the "spiritual part" of the program of recovery, but for me there is no "spiritual part." My take is that recovery is a process of spiritual growth, and the closer one becomes to God and his fellow man the farther away one moves from alcohol. Recovery is not about drinking or not drinking, it's about learning to live. It's about shedding an old life and embracing a new one. It's about becoming a different person. Joe once told me "I don't want you to learn how to deal with your alcohol problem, I want you to become a person who doesn't have an alcohol problem." If you don't understand the difference, perhaps we can shed some light on that as we travel on this journey together.
I'll say this once. The program of recovery in which I gained sobriety is Alcoholics Anonymous, and I sincerely believe that I would not be sober without that body and its members. That said, this blog is not about AA and I do not speak with any authority for or about that organization. I will not say whether or not I am still a member of AA, and you will not see any references in this blog to meetings of that organization or any other.
Welcome. I don't know where we're going, but we're on our way.
But I'm still here, giving joy to some people and headaches to others. Some people are glad about that, some disappointed, but few are ambivalent. I'm not the kind of guy about whom people tend to be ambivalent. One friend told me the reason I'm not dead yet is that I'm not bad enough to go to Hell, but God doesn't want me in Heaven stirring the place up with a stick.
I have been known, you see, to voice opinions on this and that. I have also learned, these past two dozen years, that mine is not the only opinion, and that my opinion may very well be wrong. But, as another friend told me, "You sometimes tick people off, Bill, but you tend to make them think."
That, however, is for another time and another place; giving voice to opinion is not really my purpose here. Some opinions may creep in, but my purpose here is to share the joy that I have experienced in the spiritual growth that has been, for me, the process of recovery from alcoholism.
Someone asked me once about the "spiritual part" of the program of recovery, but for me there is no "spiritual part." My take is that recovery is a process of spiritual growth, and the closer one becomes to God and his fellow man the farther away one moves from alcohol. Recovery is not about drinking or not drinking, it's about learning to live. It's about shedding an old life and embracing a new one. It's about becoming a different person. Joe once told me "I don't want you to learn how to deal with your alcohol problem, I want you to become a person who doesn't have an alcohol problem." If you don't understand the difference, perhaps we can shed some light on that as we travel on this journey together.
I'll say this once. The program of recovery in which I gained sobriety is Alcoholics Anonymous, and I sincerely believe that I would not be sober without that body and its members. That said, this blog is not about AA and I do not speak with any authority for or about that organization. I will not say whether or not I am still a member of AA, and you will not see any references in this blog to meetings of that organization or any other.
Welcome. I don't know where we're going, but we're on our way.
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