This is a repeat performance, but I think it bears repeating! Just Follow Rudolph!

Just Follow Rudolph!


I have to give full credit for these thoughts to Reverend Leo Booth, who is a colleague, friend and inspiration in some of my more whimsical moments of healing, as well as one of those who manages to remind me that spirituality is at the heart of everything we do!

Yesterday, Pere Leo was working with our folks at the Residential Center and inspired them all with his interpretation of "Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer." I am taking the liberty to share it in the Christmas Spirit. So, here is my interpretation of his interpretation one of the world's favorite Christmas myths (that he reminded me was probably a Polar version of "The Ugly Duckling" and others!)

We all went to school with Dasher (the Athlete/Cheerleader) and Dancer (the Track Star/Ballet Dancer), Prancer (the "Too Good Ones" who never talked to us) and Vixen (need I say more?) , Comet (the one we never could measure up to) and Cupid (our true "first love" -- the one we never even made eye contact with), Donder (the one who would tolerate us and talk to us in class, but never sit near us on the bus) and Blitzen (the one who tortured us with taunts and pokes that hurt more in our hearts than on our arms and legs). We WERE Rudolph. We were a little bit different. Sure, they let us INTO the Reindeer games...as the water carrier or time keeper. If we were really lucky (meaning they were desperate), we got to play right field. If we told the same joke they told, nobody laughed. If we had the right answer, they convinced us it was wrong.

Many of us grew up to be different in other ways. Maybe we had a secret life. We saw ourselves as waaay too fat or waaaay too skinny and never did understand what others saw. What we saw in the mirror never matched. We starved or had surgery after surgery. We walled ourselves up in our room or on the other side of town using drugs or on the internet or shopping.

Perhaps, we found that a few drinks made us "different" or more like them. They laughed at our jokes. They let us stumble into the parties. Yet, we were still different. We didn't stop. We gave them MORE stories at which to laugh. We heard about dancing on the tables and barfing in the fountain. We made it OK because we were AT the party and, after all, we didn't remember it any way.

As the years passed, though, we still ended up on the sidelines. They ended up calling us more and different names -- "Drunk" "Druggie." "Addict." "Annie Rexic." "Pervert." The list goes on. If we were lucky, we hid in the back of the crowd and tried to stay "like" the others, even though our hidden, painful lives became more and more hidden and painful.

Then, one Special Eve, in the midst of our fog, many times lost in the woods of our secret, painful lives, a Messenger comes to call.
"Rudolph, with your Nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

Perhaps, this messenger isn't exactly Santa Clause. It may be a brick wall...literally. The one the car runs into or the back wall of the jail. It may be Homeland Security knocking on the door in SWAT gear. It may be our family circling the living room with letters written in hand for our intervention. It may be the cameras and crew of "Intervention" filming our lives without us figuring out that it is about our disease and us going to treatment. It may be THAT headache or the one time the money ran out or the one time the purging didn't work or whatever. Regardless, the Messenger is that thing, person, event in our lives that invites us to wake up, find our inner calling and move to the front of the herd.

Recovery isn't an easy journey. Embracing our very "defect" as the gift that makes us who we are and using it to bring gifts to others is the heart of why there's a "We" in the whole Recovery process. The cartoon doesn't show how very, very difficult it must have been for Rudolph to walk to the front of the line, past all those "Superstars" that had laughed at him, put him down, shamed him, and invited him to feel so worthless and useless for all those years. He looks so cute and innocent and happy in the images. Could he possibly trust that he would not be criticized, jeered, taunted and laughed at again. Shouldn't he watch to make sure there were no reindeer pellets in the midst of the confetti and ticker tape in the parade? How could he just forget all those years and all those times he looked in the mirror and ONLY saw that HUGE, RED, FLASHING nose? Isn't that all they saw? What about the huge burden of leading the very crew that had thrown him under the bus so very many times? That need to do it perfectly must have been immense! Surely, he would mess it up like he had done with every high fly to right field! Would Santa forget and hail, "On, Dasher and Dancer....(You know the rest)!" and forget to mention Rudolph. (If Santa is a parent, like I am, he'll forget at least one or mess up and call "...Blonder and Ditzen..." or something else at least once a Christmas Eve!).

Regardless, like Santa, Recovery is a call for us to step to the front, be ourselves and let the gifts that are within us shine. The pain of our past, the struggle of Recovery, and the reality that life is neither fair, nor easy, are all part of the Message. Rudolph didn't have to make the toys, check the list, pack the sleigh, feed the other reindeer, map out the route and figure out the weather. He just had to let that silly red nose shine and be the littlest reindeer at the front of the team, leading the way. (He also did not get to look over his shoulder and make sure that the other reindeer were eating his dust and their "crow." That was the job of the Messenger!)

It's hard work keeping our red noses polished, our eyes on the road ahead, staying balanced in our brief landings on rooftops and mountaintops, and just getting through the nights. On top of that, like Rudolph, we never know if all the gifts go where we think they should. We just let our light shine, do our job and move on. We never really know if all the joy we hope for comes to fruition. However, the reality is that the Messenger knows the List, having checked it twice without our ever seeing it, and just calls us to do our job with our silly red noses.

If we are painstaking in keeping our noses clean, we get to play in ALL the reindeer games and more. Life becomes a joy-filled journey, free of the burdens and baggage that we collected in all those years, when we believed our own fairy tales about how defective we were. The fear that pierced us when the Messenger called us no longer plagues us and sends us running. We are called upon over and over to just be ourselves. Things we never imagined can become real!

Whether the Messenger is one of painful reality or one that would have angels sing in the night or little oil lamps burn for eight days or any of the other wonderful traditions that carry us through this time of year into the light, may the light of a little red nose burn brightly in your mirror and challenge you to move to the front of the Team and be precisely what you were created for!

Just Follow Rudolph!

Thanks, Father Leo and Happy Holidays!

Recovery is a Wellspring of Resilience

(That's not really a bumper sticker like I usually make them, but it is a title that, as a bumper sticker would certainly bring about questions. To Marty and Janis - Thanks for the support and patience....I think! ;-) )

Recently, I had the privilege of attending the inaugural meeting of the Canadian Federation of Physicians Health Programs in Vancouver, BC. I have “borrowed” a phrase that was used repeatedly during that conference for my title. In its best practice, Recovery is a “wellspring of resilience.” I strongly agree and have experienced that. However, the Conference this week challenged me to look deeper into this concept.

How do I define “resilience”? Often, especially in the first years of Recovery, resilience seems to be relegated to the capacity to return to some magical baseline when the realities of life, addiction and Recovery knock us down. This is both true and dangerous. For one early in Recovery, the satisfaction found in NOT losing ground is, indeed, not only a major source of serenity but also one of the earliest evidences of “The Promises.” These moments of connecting with a sense of success are both useful and essential mile markers to note, claim and collect. They must not be lost. However, they are only the groundwork of building the foundation of recovery.

I believe that a key word here is “wellspring.” Taken to its fullest extent, Recovery is a source of unlimited, unrestricted growth, renewal and serenity, even in times of chaos and struggle. This requires that our entire perspective on Recovery have a paradigm of health and wellness. In order to do this, I am learning over and over that we have to reframe the entire course of our journey.

First, we have to begin to see the powerless and unmanageability as opportunity, invitation and, in essence, gift. While it is easy to celebrate the escape from the prison of addiction, many times, the pain, grief and loss of moving through the first five of the Twelve Steps cast a dark shadow on those years and events. In addition, the arduous task of turning the tide of the chaos, damage and devastation. Many times, we rely on the Serenity Prayer as though it was a magical incantation that would send out a host of sparkles to convert life into a colorful place of comfort and peace. Not so! It is only a reminder to pause in the struggle, assess the battles into which we pour our energy and know that our true empowerment comes from Acceptance. In reality, it is very difficult to find a gift in the process of wading out of the middle of the swamp in which we seem to have landed. The concept of a Wellspring of Resilience requires that we see the journey through the muck and mud of the swamp of unmanageability as an escape to a better place. That is precisely when we need to view “The Promises” as somewhat of a “postcard” from the mythical land to which we are headed, not the result that is expected to arrive in a moment.

Second, when we accept that Life itself is not a static, stale event, but an ongoing process, we can see the invitation to move through whatever current circumstances Recovery leads into our laps as a part of the process. If we can make this next shift, we can begin to see both Life and Recovery as a journey. Not only does this allow us to shift out of trying to “pass” the twelve tasks with some mystical “good grade,” but to see the Twelve Steps as a fluid process along which we flow back and forth, repeating components of each step each day. Thus, Life becomes a journey, filled with twists, turns, valleys, mountains, deserts, swamps, oceans, and plains. All of them are filled with unique forms of beauty, danger, serenity, and excitement. Our task is to keep moving on the journey, following the Higher Stars before us, within us and around us.

Finally, if we remain in contact with our Spiritual Center, having a sense of being guided along this journey, we develop a new understanding of “The Promises.” This understanding is not one that we “learn,” but one that we “come to know.” It’s a strange sense and experience, very difficult to explain. Much like height, maturity, gray hair and wrinkles, this “knowing” just seems to show up one day. We don’t see it coming and can’t force it to happen. It just comes. If we focus on the journey, the excitement, exhilaration, loss and healing and growth around us, we are able to be present on our journey and see that it is truly an Adventure. Doing so does not make the difficult times any easier. What it does is allows us to tap into that “Source” or Wellspring of Resilience that allows us not only to continue on the Adventurous Journey, but to rise above it. In doing so, we become guides and supports for others, almost inadvertently. (I believe that spontaneous, soaring experience is something reserved for the last of the Twelve Steps – Service. Yet, while the spontaneous experience “arrives” in the Twelfth Step, Service throughout Recovery is a key part of the foundation of sound recovery!)

What a wonderful Promise – if we just keep doing what is in front of us and be of service, the Source will be there! However, the concept of a Wellspring of Resilience is also an active process. Much like a spring of water, the wellspring of Recovery requires constant revisiting and attention. Without water, we dehydrate and die. In fact, without daily water (which we rarely drink in adequate amounts – recommended at ½ ounce per pound per day), our performance declines and our function is compromised. This has been tested in many venues. We would do well to pay attention to this as a concept in Recovery. We must constantly support and replenish our mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, vocational, and relational health, wellbeing and resilience.

The Wellspring of Resilience that is Recovery is available to us all every day. However, we must go to it, partake of it, and pause to allow it to nourish us, fill us and guide us. Here’s the catch – it lies deep within us, all around us, and, in most cases, can only be accessed through those who guide us.

Here’s hoping your journey is challenging, wonderful, and all that is promised!

(Half-fast apology - the first version of this went out as a comment in the Sante Center for Healing Quarterly Newsletter. Due to deadlines, it was imperfect - You're welcome, Marty - and I noticed some changes I wanted to make. So...here they are, in this format!)

Recovery is A Wellspring of Resilience

AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!

That's all I have to say. I have at least 4 posts started and not "perfectly" edited ....a.k.a. - finished. Somehow, this grandfatherly brain runs out of gas before my creative spirit can conquer them. I WILL write. I WILL! I WILL! I WILL!

Thanks for patience!

A Word From Me

I have this problem....so many of the thoughts that I have in my head just refuse to jump onto this blog. I hope the folks that keep showing up as little red dots on the map won't give up and stop coming back. (I never know, since there are no comments!!!) I write bits and pieces and Life seems to keep getting in the way of the rest of the words getting on the cyberpaper. Keep coming back and I'll promise to keep thinking and keep adding as I can. There are so very many bumper sticker lessons out there! I learn one from the gifts in my life virtually every day. I'm hoping that this pseudo apology will encourage you and me to keep this going!

Thanks!

Not a Bumper Sticker, but some Thoughts....

June 28 marks the 40th Anniversary of the Riots at the Stonewall Inn in New York City. Many people have no idea what this is. Just like many people may have no idea what the Suffragettes were or what the March across the Bridge in Selma, Alabama was about. (Ask Senator John Lewis about that one. He was there and has a skull fracture to show for it.) Each of these represent two things, in my view - moments when a marginalized people stepped out of the margin, marring the neatness of history and moments when the course of history was changed forever.

According to Wikipedia, that modern day icon of wisdom, "Suffragette is a term originally coined by the Daily Mail newspaper as a derogatory label for the more radical and militant members of the late-19th and early-20th century movement for women's suffrage..." It was coined in the United Kingdom and migrated to the United States. Yes, there were "radical and militant" women who actually once wanted the right to vote! Can you imagine that? How preposterous!

The march in Selma, occurred on Sunday, March 7, 1965, known as "Bloody Sunday." It was a march to protest the prohibition of the African American right to vote. Mary Stanton wrote in , FROM SELMA TO SORROW: The Life and Death of Viola Liuzzo (University of Georgia Press, 2000), "The marches drastically shifted public opinion about the Civil Rights movement as a whole. The images of Alabama law enforcement beating the nonviolent protesters were shown all over the country and the world by the cameras of television networks and newspapers. The visuals of such brutality being carried out by the state of Alabama helped shift the image of the segregationist movement from one of a movement trying to preserve the social order of the South to a system of state endorsed terrorism against those non-whites."

Here's an adaptation of the Stonewall story from "GLBTQ Social Sciences" Web Page:

Friday, June 27, 1969 found the world mourning the death of gay icon Judy Garland. In the early morning hours of June 28, police officers raided the Stonewall Inn, a small bar located on Christopher Street in New York City's Greenwich Village. Although mafia-run, the Stonewall, like other predominantly gay bars in the city, got raided by the police periodically. Typically, the more "deviant" patrons (that is, drag queens and butch lesbians, especially if they were "colored") would be arrested and taken away in a paddy wagon, while white, male customers looked on or quietly disappeared. The raid began in time-honored fashion, as plainclothes and uniformed police officers entered the bar, arrested the employees, and began ejecting the customers one by one onto the street. But for some reason, the crowd that had gathered outside the Stonewall, a crowd that began to cheer each time a patron emerged from the bar, soon changed its mood. Perhaps it was Judy Garland's death, or the summer heat, or the fact that police had been especially busy that summer raiding bars and patrons had become angry and frustrated. Or possibly it was the sight of several drag queens being forced into a paddy wagon. Whatever it was, the on-lookers lost their patience.

As to who threw the first punch, accounts are contradictory. Some say it was a drag queen who initially defied the police, while others claim it was a butch lesbian. The crowd, now several hundred people, erupted and began pelting the officers with coins, which represented the payoffs gay bars had to make to the police to stay in business, then moved to stones and bottles. The police, surprised by and unused to such resistance from patrons of gay bars, beat those they could reach with nightsticks, but eventually were forced to take refuge by locking themselves inside the Stonewall Inn.

This single event brought a population that has been documented for thousands of years, remained hidden, "closeted" and oppressed, into the mainstream, in essence, likely short-circuiting the AIDS epidemic and thrusting medical research into a new century. (Think where we might have been if nobody had ever heard of gay rights twenty years ago, when HIV became an epidemic and had not been forced from the recesses of the shadows into the streets, media and limelight. Thank heavens for those drag queens and that crowd!)

In March, I visited New York City for the first time. Since I had worked all week, I had Saturday afternoon off and had an opportunity to "see the city" with a friend, who also happened to be in town. We planned a trip down to Greenwich Village and to the Hudson, to get a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty and the river where the plane landed. We would eat dinner and visit Rockefeller Plaza, walk through Times Square, and end with a walk in lower Central Park.

Yep, that's the Hudson and the Statue of Liberty in the haze in the background!

As we walked back from the Hudson River (where Picture 1 was taken, showing the Statue of Liberty in the haze in the background!), Marc suggested that we cross the street and walk over to the Stonewall Inn. It seemed only fitting. Hence, Picture 2.

The Stonewall Inn -- Remarkably unremarkable to have changed history, isn't it?

So, why am I writing about this momentous occasion. Well, yes, I do support the cause of the GLBT movement. Yes, I do believe this was a monumental occasion. However, I think the more important point is the reminder that, once again, it was the troublemakers, the odd, the marginalized that brought about change, revolution and the freedoms that we all take for granted today.

I firmly believe my mother would have been a Suffragette. It was women like her who wrestled the right to vote from affluent, educated Caucasian men. After all, she had the wherewithall to obtain two unrelated Masters Degrees in 1942, to have the absolute audacity to not only continue teaching in an academic institution after she married, but also to return after she had each of her 4 children (which, BTW, she insisted on nursing when she was rather aggressively told by the medical experts that her babies would not grow up normal without being fed formula! Tell that to our 97 years of higher education!) It was the marchers in Selma who began the movement that wrestled the right to vote, live, marry, and be human from a Caucasian majority. Today, my family is about as "conspicuous" as they come! We are not only multi-racial, but multicultural, mutlilingual and multi-just-about-everything-else! When I was in grade school (and I'm NOT THAT old), my extended family would have had to eat in separate dining rooms, use separate restrooms and water fountains, and may have even been arrested! I have godchildren who would have been considered illegitimate because their parents could not have legally been married an any state in the union!

Far more importantly, I want us all to pause for a moment and ask what just may be in the air. Once again, a growing number of issues are being raised by a marginalized population. They center on the right to live, love, work, and be treated like human beings. These are not questions about sex any more than Suffrage and Civil Rights were about sex, corporate takeovers, destroying any institutions, or contaminating any aspcts of humanity. I remember the arguments in my eighth and ninth grade class that allowing "blacks" to marry "whites" would lead to a "gray" race and the ruination our future. It hasn't happened. Nor, has the 49 to 52% failure rate of marriage significantly changed in states that allow same sex civil unions (or whatever they choose to call them). The earth has not opened up and swallowed America because we have a President who is not Caucasian in ancestry.

Stonewall, Selma and Suffragettes remind us that we are all human. We live on a planet that has abundant resources, space, and creativity. While we cannot all have everything, but we can all have enough. Until we learn that the way to access this abundance is NOT to take something away from another, but to give freely and to find ways to creatively spread around what we do have.

Is it such an unreal vision of the future that, one day, our history books may not be earmarked by our conflicts, wars and fights, but by our successes. That we may not record milestones in terms of deaths, but lives saved. That we may not record geographic boundaries in terms of who destroyed whom to get to the top of the heap, but how many lives were enhanced and enlightened, how many mouths were fed and how many heads received shelter. That power may be defined not in terms of money, weapons, and potential for destruction, but in terms of how far arms are outstretched. That Peace may not be defined as the absence of war, but the persistence of a world filled with satiated appetites, warm slumber, dry shelter, and safe drink in time of thirst.

Am I a dreamer? I hope so. Then, I can walk in the margins with other greats: Like those radical militant women who got my daughters, nieces, great nieces and granddaughters the right to vote without even thinking about it. Like those irrational marchers, who crossed that bridge, facing loaded weapons and gave people of all colors, including mine, the right to vote, live, learn, work and love to their potential. Like those drag queens (reportedly mostly of color!) and butch lesbians, who brought an entire ten or more percent of our population out of the margin. Like a small movement you haven't even heard of that is trying to save hundreds of children from dying in orphanages in Ethiopia and other African countries while thousands of affluent Americans custom order babies from overpopulated countries, such as China, because they have the right skin color.

It's uncomfortable here in the margins. It's not popular. However, if we look at history, the "mainstream" has brought about very few changes. True change comes from the margins and the marginalized. From people who forgot to hear that they couldn't do something or other. Like these: John Stuart Mill, Emily Davison, Alice Paul, Lucy Burns, Sylvia Pankhurst, Julia Ward Howe, James Bevel, Amelia, Sam and Bruce Boynton, John Lewis, Bayard Ruston, Martin Luther King, A group of unnamed Drag Queens, Richard Berkowitz, and the list goes on. (Google some of them. You'll learn some things you didn't know!) These are the people who began to change history. What if all that dreamers likeme dream could be true?

Remember, they once said that electricity would never replace gas, the west would never be settled, slaves would never be free, women would never vote, blacks would never have rights, we'd never go to the moon, Maman would never have a cell phone, and well, you hear the rest every day! Maybe, they never consulted the Drag Queens!

There's NOTHING Holy about Holidays!

Did you ever notice that all holidays seem to have something weird about them? You know the kind of weird that just ain't right? Let's face it, a bunny delivering chocolate bunnies (do you bite the head off first?), candy and EGGS!? A fat little elf plopping down chimneys in the middle of the night (or, if you're in Germany, sneaking around dumping candy in children's shoes in the middle of the night)? Ghosts, goblins and witches, not to mention adorable little things, collecting candy in pumpkins? Green Beer and shamrocks? A cherub in a diaper with a bow and arrow on the lose in the name of Love? Really! What makes sense about any of these so-called Holi-days. (Oh, just so I don't discriminate, do ya really PLAY with a dreidel?!?)

Now, let's get real. What is it that we most associate with Holidays?......That's it, FAMILY GATHERINGS! You now those, the collections of people that we may or may not try to avoid all year long only to dress up in our very best clothes to spend a blissful day with! Yes, those people! I once had a friend whose uncle described their extended family gathering as "a large collection of people who require massive amounts of alcohol, street drugs and medication to function with civility on three days a year without involving the police or firearms." While not all families are like that, the reality is that many are somewhere on THAT end of the spectrum.

Try as they may, families, especially those laced with addiction, are not famous for working with each other in large numbers for significant periods of time (like double-digit numbers of minutes!). Why we use the excuse of holidays for these episodes of torture, I'm not quite sure. the truth is in the Bumper Sticker:

There's NOTHING Holy about Holidays!

However, I do think there is a message in the perceived absurdity. It's for the children. If we didn't have these seemingly petty rituals and things with which to occupy the adults, the kids would have to sit around and watch the grown ups figure out how to interact with each other. Can you imagine if nothing happened after Christmas or Easter Dinner but the conversations between Grandma, Aunt Mimi, and Aunt Lulu? Or, what if the whole afternoon entertainment was left to those three, Uncle Bob, Gramps, and Cousin Charlie? You know who these people are. Can you imagine the fiasco, brawls, arguments or boredom that would ensue if those people or whomever they represent in your world were all that held the family's attention at family gatherings? What if that was all we had to look forward to?

Let's look at it this way: at least Easter dinner/lunch has the deadline of the egg hunt or the candy fest or the first kid to puke from the candy. At Christmas, either we have to get home before the elf gets stuck in the chimney or nobody slept on the Eve and the little ones are so cranky they WANT us to go home! yo can finish the list of so-called holi-days from there.

If we didn't have the innocence of children to keep us all from becoming familiocidal, holidays might be limited to well-policed public gatherings for mandatory rituals to avoid eternal damnation! Otherwise, it could just be too dangerous to get together.

The good news about healing and recovery is that my family is learning to tell each other that we've enjoyed about as much as we can stand of ourselves and that's OK. We love to be together and we love to plan the next gathering, in part, because it means that we're all going to our own castles where we make our own rules and have our own say-so. We don't have to wait until somebody leaves to talk about them because we have better things to do -- we talk about them to their face and enjoy the laugh. If we're mad about something, we save that for after the gathering and really have it out one-on-one until the problem is solved as much as loved ones can solve problems. Then, unless it will throw the Earth off its axis, we let it go (well, most of the time). The purpose of gatherings is to enjoy each other, cook together, eat, entertain the children, do the silly rituals we all love and laugh. Isn't that far more holy? Then, again, we don't do that only on Hallmark days. We do it whenever we want and for whatever reason we want. We may change the menu for Holidays, based on what the commercials say, and the recreation may change, but our gatherings .....they are all about the same. I like it that way. Come to think of it, the Bumper Sticker is right...

There's NOTHING Holy about Holidays!!

PS - There is no Gravity -- Life just sucks!

Now, that doesn't sound like a very good start for the first blogging in 3 months, but please bear with me, it really might not turn out that way! Just for the record, in the last 2 months, I've been through preparing for Board Re-Certification, Winter, Mardi Gras in my hometown, Studying for the first time in 10 years, a 7 day whirlwind tour of marketing and education through the northeast, along with my first stroll down Broadway (BTW, you MUST see "Wicked: The Musical") the birth of my 5th grandchild and life in general. So, if I'm remiss and behind, to quote Steve Martin on SNL, "EXCUUUUUUUUUUUSE me!"

This week, I appeared on Facebook at the urging of several colleagues and family members. To my pleasure and surprise, I heard from many, many friends and a couple of very old special memories. One in particular taught me a new lesson: The definition of serenity. I got a hit on Facebook from a name I recommended. Let's call him Matt, for convenience. I recognized the name immediately, since his last name was NOT a typical Cajun name and one that stood out. What jarred my memory even more was the memory of a very gentle, kind giant of a man who came into treatment hurting and longing for some way of stopping the pain. He took everything his counselors and the rest of the treatment team had to heart and ran with it. I look back and think that this was just 3 years into my career in Addiction Medicine and less than 5 years in my own journey in healing. If I had been my supervisor today, I probably would have told one of my peers after a supervision session that I still had not a clue what I was doing, I was just trying to stay between the guardrails! Anyway, once I acknowledged Matt on Facebook, he filled me in on the last 19.98 years. Yes, almost 20 years. He talked of how grateful he was and how much he appreciated the meetings he'd been directed to and the wisdom he'd been given and all that jazz. He mentioned the peace he'd found, many of the losses he had and how much he knew he still had to work on his Recovery every time he turned around. He mentioned the gifts of the Program and Dr. Bob and Bill W. and all those who had guided him along the way. He spoke with deep gratefulness of how supportive his family was and how, when all else failed, his Beagles listened and never thought about using, drinking or acting out in any way! He seemed to laugh at some of the irony of my "ranch" in Texas and how I had a herd of struggling addicts to move along, admonishing them to pay attention. Then, he did the most amazing thing. Without knowing it, he plastered a bumper sticker right there on the page:

PS -- There is no Gravity -- Life Just Sucks! (and it's all Good!)

Acutally, here's his quote (with some confidentiality modifications!): "Oh, and a post script: [My medicall illness] has attacked ...and moved me up to a Stage 6. I'm on the Transplant list @ ... Low platelet count prevents me from [the next level of medical treatment], but other things are coming along. Can't dwell on it, life goes on. Besides, I got a bonus of 20 years that I would have had (let alone, remember)! It's all good." My only thought was, "Holy Crap! He just gave me all this wonderful stuff and put the 'reality' in the PS!"

As I reflected, I've seen this before. In particular, I think of a man I'll call Buck. He wrote from a county prison where he was being warehoused. He told me of how he was taking advantage of the time to read, write, take long walks around a gym track, listen to music on his CD player, and visit the library in the County Jail. He spoke of how reading the "Classics" had helped him with his loneliness and how sharing the Big Book of AA with others had helped keep him grounded in staying sober in spirit. He included articles about the brain he'd copied from Time Magazine. He went on for 3 pages before he wrote something like this: "Oh, yeah, they've had to increase the Vitamin C to 10,ooo mg a day to counter the chemotherapy. My colon cancer was Stage IV, but they think they were able to get it all. I have to wait another two weeks before they can start the radiation treatment. Once that is done, I can go back to the Prison." He went back to some more statements of gratitude and encouragement for those of us who were still working with those who were "in denial."

These kind of things remind me that peace comes from deep within. Both of these men reminded me that they had something I forget to seek many days. They did not look for what was painful, lacking or in short supply in their lives. Heaven knows they had enough to worry, complain, or fret about. However, something in their spiritual anchor allowed them to move that to the Post Script and to be clear that they were focused on what was true about themselves, about life and about Recovery. If you read the body of their letters, you heard about a life that was full, content and wonderful. In both cases (as with other times I've been given this kind of gift), I smiled as I was moved to tears of gratitude. In both cases, no, in all cases, I am stunned when the reality of their lives hits me, taking my breath away. I am left in awe, not particularly because they deal with life threatening illnesses, but because they face life threatening illnesses in the post-script!

That is the harsh reality - Life sucks. I can't minimize that. One of the lessons they did NOT teach me in medical school was that every single one of my patients will eventually die. With any luck, very few will be on my watch! With really good luck, most will outlive me, since I treat a population that is, by and large, much younger than I am! Regardless, every single human being will expire, transition, or go kaput! Every single day, each and every one of us will face some sort of disappointment! With luck, it will be that Starbucks is out of Carmel Cinnamon Dulce Fat-free Sugar-Free Peroxide-Free Three Squirt for our Venti Triple Soy Extra Hot Latte!!! On most days, it will be far more than that. On some days, the disappointment will feel too much to bear and the next day will be worse. THAT SUCKS! I can't change that. If I'm really, really lucky, though, I can be in a serene enough place to surrender to the trust that this Universe is loving, creating and generous enough to guide me through it to the other side. I can hold on to the notion that it is the fact of the frost that MAKES the peaches make fruit, but only if there are at least 29 days of frost every winter. I don't have to try to feel peachy warm when I'm at risk of frostbite. I just have to stay warm, get out of the cold when I can and remember that Spring will come, if I don't march northward!

Woody Allen said some variation of this: "Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon." I think there's some wisdom here. It's just the truth. Life has all those things. We can choose to focus on them, or we can see the sunrise, hear the laughter, find the joy and notice that some sucky force keeps our feet on the ground and allows us not to float aimlessly into the ethers!


PS -- There is no Gravity -- Life Just Sucks! (and it's all Good!)

Make me an Instrument of THY Peace

Think for a moment on some banners, not just Bumper Stickers from President Obama's Inaugural Address:

"For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this earth. And because we have tasted the bitter swill of Civil War and Segregation and emerged from that Dark Chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass. That the lines of Tribes shall soon dissolve. That as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of Peace....To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict or blame their society's ills on the West, know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy...We will extend a hand, if you are willing to unclench your fist....To those nations, like ours, that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to the suffering outside our borders, nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect...America, in the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave the icy currents and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that, when we were tested, we refused to let this journey end; that we did not turn back, nor did we falter and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's Grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of Freedom and delivered it safely to future generations."

It may be a bit sappy to ponder these words today and I'm sure I'm one of millions that is doing so, but, it is all about me and my thoughts anyway!

Today is a significant day in many ways. As I listened to President Obama's message and chuckled through the humorous, but powerfully spiritual benediction, I had to think about how many messages were there for those of us who struggle in Recovery journeys. I will give President Bush credit for one perspective that is true for today -- history will hold the final answer. My hope is that today will truly be a time for stepping past the walls that divide and beginning to dissolve them. I sincerely hope that this is not a time for a shifting of lines of division and of power, but a time for the "lines of Tribe" to truly pass away. I do remember when people of color had a smaller sparsely furnished waiting room in my uncle's medical office while the far fewer white patients had leather couches and several times the space. I remember segregation and the first time a black kid came to my school. Now, my family is multiracial and I've lost count of how many tongues in the multilingual nature. The differences are less and less each year. And my heart is bigger for it.

I hope that the message that all of us take from this Inaugural Address is that we must move forward and we must begin to change our perspective. This is a universe of abundance and plenty. One of the most difficult challenges of Recovery is moving from the sense of deprivation to the sense of "Eternal Enough" that comes from tapping into the Abundance that is around us. The Principle of Service tells us that the more we give our Serenity away, the more we have. The more we do for others, the more peace and energy and Recovery we have for ourselves. These are age-old Principles that have always worked and always been true.

"The Promises" talk about being "happy, joyous and free." President Obama spoke of delivering the "great gift of freedom" to the future. Think of the joy we could all have in seeing the ecstasy in the eyes of a world that has enough. The true Freedom that could come from knowing that we all can have a share in this magnificent world around us and that, together, we never have to do without. We can never hoard enough to counteract the sense of emptiness that comes from entitlement and deprivation. Yet, when we share from a sense of abundance and all have enough, we all have a joyous fullness that never ends. What an amazing paradox!

Never Pass Up an Opportunity to Shut Up

This one is universal and has many therapeutic applications, one of which does not apply to the silence over the last month or so! I could blame it on holiday re-entry followed by the full moon or something, but I think I'll just say distraction by overwhelm is my only excuse.

We've all had those moments when our head was shouting at our mouth to stop talking. No, we really didn't mean that the dress made you look fat. No, we weren't laughing at you. The list goes on. There are very few comments, save those that would move people out of Harm's way, that can't wait a minute or until tomorrow! That's an important lesson.

Sam pointed out an important corollary to this one:

Never, never distrust your gut instinct!
It's a hard contradiction, but an important one. Many of us learn growing up to lie about the truth. Janet Woititz in her book "Adult Children of Alcoholics" says that one of the rules of Adult Children is that they will lie when it would be easier to tell the truth. In Recovery, one of our greatest tasks becomes learning our own truth and standing firmly on it. Learning to say "No"w when that is our truth and need is essential to believing in ourselves and beginning to change the negative core beliefs into positive, self-supporting ones. Learning to tell the truth about ourselves, even when it is painful, is also essential to the serenity that comes with this Process.

We all have that "Inner Voice" that guides us in decision making. Unfortunately, over the years, we may have been taught by parents, peers, addictions and other things that we could not trust that inner voice. That Voice is the thing that tells innocent little children that they can laugh their wonderful belly laugh when something is funny to them and to nobody else. It tells them it's okay to cry when things hurt or when they lose their first helium balloon. It tells us we are in love for the first time and that our heart is broken when it doesn't work out. In truth, sometimes, it tells us to go ahead and have one more binge, knowing that the setup is in place for us to get caught, have a consequence or whatever it takes to get us into Recovery. This whole thing of Trust is difficult. Listing to our Gut Instinct and Intuition is also difficult, mainly because we need our Brain or Mind, that great distorter of all things to listen and act. That's why these two bumper stickers need to be very close together. (It's a good thing Life has a very large bumper!) [By the way, there's a third that goes with it and it will take a whole blog -- "The Opposite is Equally True."]

Never Pass Up an Opportunity to Shut UP
Never, Never Distrust Your Gut Instinct