Hiker, Writer, Traveler, Recovering Person
I’m also a sober guy trying to make sense of the world. Click below for random observations on spirituality and recovery.
A while back I had a funny story that I’ve shared in meetings here and there.
I had recently broken up with Woman A. At the same time I first met her, I had met Woman B, and I had a crush on her. A knew this … hell, B knew this. I asked her out when we first met, and she said no. Then I dated A, and B was still around sometimes as a chum. (Still with me?) So then A and I broke up, and I met C, whom I also wanted to date. We had been on a date or two when the following happened.
I’m out at the coast the last few nights, on a working retreat.
In theory, this meant putting my head down and writing a big chunk of the Peaceful Places book. But do these things ever go like we plan? I spent three nights here, and maybe four hours on that book. So one of the passengers on my internal bus is yelling that this whole thing has been a failure. He’s also bitching that I haven’t taken a proper walk on the beach.
But watch how that internal game goes: set up a “right” way to do things, then don’t do them, then call it (and yourself) a failure. What the hell is that?
How about “My friends Betsy and Mike, who own a super cool motel, invited me out for a few days, in exchange for some work, and it’s nice to get away for a while?” I got a lot of stuff done, including some on the book, and now I’m headed back.
How about “Thank you, Universe, for this opportunity”?
And how about “I don’t know what the ‘right’ way to do this is, so I’m just trying to be true to myself and do what feels right”?
Some of the stuff I got done, like financial planning and asking for help where it’s needed, was very helpful. And the book will get written. And I have this new website. And it’s too damned windy and cold to walk on the beach.
But mainly I had a nice little retreat, got some things done, saw my friend Betsy and her two lovely daughters, and got to help them out, too.
So thank you, Universe!
Check out:
Driving home after a pleasant evening with an attractive woman. Ought to be a happy time, or so it seems. And yet there’s regret. Just can’t seem to get out of my head and tell her I like her, that I am attracted to her, that I’d like to kiss her. Same old thing. Determined leaving home, frustrated coming back.
My experience with the Third Step started with a decision to take the advice of my sponsor and the people in the group. They were in touch with a higher power than I was, since they were sober and I wasn’t. So in those days it was a matter of going to meetings, sharing, hanging out afterwards, going to social events, getting a sponsor, working the steps, and so on — in short, following the suggestions of the program. Continue reading “Thoughts on the Third Step”
Written to a sponsee:
“The reason you can’t let go of your behaviors and resentments is that they serve a purpose and give you apparent, short-term relief, coupled with a type and level of pain that you are used to, can manage to some extent, and which you have begun to think of as your birthright. Or birthwrong. In the long term you know this isn’t working, but in the short term you have no idea how you can change from a familiar pain to something unknown. That’s where faith comes in; it can act as the bridge beyond all the “yeah-buts” that your mind puts up in defense of the ego — which, ironically, is the source of all your pain.
I say this because it’s true of every human being, not you in particular. Maybe not the Dalai Lama or Jesus.”
Wait, is that right? Can I miss something I don’t want?
Try this: I am in a great relationship. And there are a lot of attractive women in the world. I miss chasing them. And I don’t want to chase them. I want the one I’ve got. Hell, I didn’t even chase them when I wasn’t single. Continue reading “Missing Something I Don’t Want”
I love how Caroline Casey talks about composting and insists on positive talk, like “have your back” rather than “hold your feet to the fire.”
I am occasionally exposed to the smell of weed, and often to the sight and smell of booze. And usually there’s a little voice in my head that says, “Let’s get some of that!”
One of my big struggles in early recovery was I kept hanging out with people who used. Now it seems silly, but at the time they were my friends, the only people I really knew. And I used around them because I was so worried about being accepted by them.