And Became Willing to Make Amends

Several days ago, I really screwed up.  I received two text messages from my son's recently ex-girlfriend.  Over the last three years she'd become a real part of our family and her decision to break up with my son hit all of us hard.  As my wife and daughters banded around my son, I suppose we all pretty much disconnected from his ex-girlfriend.  When I received these text messages, something got triggered in me and I was angry.  Instead of pausing when agitated, I responded with a long text message that contained one sentence that was technically not completely true.  And even had it been completely true, it was not kind.  And it certainly wasn't necessary.

The comment hurt her.  And rather than strike back at me, she struck out at my son.  That hurt my son.  He and I talked the day following, and I admitted to my stupidity and told him I was sorry.  I asked him what I could do to make things right and at the time we decided that anything I might do in terms of reaching out to her would only cause more harm.  I tried to let it go.

Over the last couple of days I've felt a growing sense of depression and unease.  The other night my wife sensed something was amiss with me and she asked me the dreaded "What's wrong?" question.  It's dreaded for two reasons: (1) I usually don't know what's wrong and (2) I know by the very fact that she's asking that there is something wrong and she really really wants to know what "it" is.   But the truth is, I don't know what's wrong.  So I get stuck and then we go through a "dance" for some period where she tries to get me to talk about something I don't know....  For some reason, that night the dance was short and sweet.  No harsh words or threats.  I think we were both feeling tired.  We are getting to old for that dance anymore.

The next day on the way to work I was going through my routine of reciting various things that I've memorized over the years.  Many of the things that I recite have become something of an inventory process for me.  One of those inventory type passages is a poem by Rumi called "The Guest House."  I've included that poem in a fairly recent post, so I won't put it here again.  What happened yesterday morning though was that while I was reciting this poem, I became aware of the saddness and depression that I had been feeling the last couple of days.  And I decided to take Rumi's advice and "welcome them at the door laughing" -- "Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond."  I then repeated that same closing line again, except I changed it to "Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from within."

I then listened to my guide from within and realized that all this saddness and depression is related to the harm I had caused this young woman by judging her and questioning her decisions.  In addition, these same feelings were expressions of grief over having lost someone who had come close to being another daughter to me and a member of my family.  I hurt.

I knew that I was not yet done with making my amends with her.  And I realized that I had become "willing" to make an amends.  An 8th step process was complete.  My 9th step task now is to determine, with my son's help I believe, how best I can make such an amends without causing even more harm.

The saddness and depression lifted yesterday with this coming to greater awareness of myself.  What a gift this recovery process has become for me.
 
Take care!
 
Mike L.

Willingness: Not an Action

Willingness is not an action.  It's a state of mind that precedes certain types of actions that are called "intentional acts".  Willingness does not precede some action that is accidental.  Willingness can also precede non-action.  For example, I can be willing to make a particular amends but choose not to make that amends because I realize that it might very well harm that person (or someone else) more than help them.

The amount of willingness that is required to perform a particular action will increase in proportion to the level of unwillingness that I have toward doing the contemplated action.  This imbalance is probably the reason behind my not finishing my 4th/5th step process until I was almost two years sober.  I have no regrets about that, it's just they way it happened....and it worked.  This imbalance, with the amount of unwillingness being far greater than the amount of willingness, also was behind my inability to get sober back when I was able to stop drinking for significant periods of time, even though I had strong reasons to suspect that I, like my father before me, was an alcoholic.  The willingness "to stop forever" was never there for me because I could hold on to the belief, supported by the facts it seemed, that I could stop...if I really wanted to.  My "problem" was that I never really wanted to stop!  That is, until the day came when I simply couldn't stop. 

And when the day came that I really, really wanted to stop: I couldn't.  My willingness was far exceeding my unwillingness I believe ---- but was keeping me stuck was the firmly held belief, also supported by the facts as I understood them, that I could not "not drink".  I couldn't imagine me "not drinking" for any significant period of time.  It seemed impossible to me.  So, in a growing state of desperation and despair, I continued to drink for the next ten months.  At the beginning, most of me wanted not to get caught drinking: I didn't want to get caught because then other people would begin expecting me to do what I knew to be impossible: stop drinking!  But at then end, probably for the last month or so, I gradually began to sense a growing hope that someone would catch me in my deceit and confront me on my actions. 

And then the night came when my son almost caught me: he came out of a meeting and walked over to the car where I was waiting to pick him up and take him home.  He asked me if he could go get something to eat with his friends and I told him that it was OK with me....   He started to walk away and then I think he was confronted with something he didn't really want to do either: confront his father after smelling alcohol on his breath just then.  I can't imagine that the prospect of confronting your dad, with only 5 months and 10 days clean time and a history of screwups, relapses and run-ins with the police: and accusing him of drinking...how that would be something done lightly.  My son became willing though and his willingness saved my life.

He walked back to my car and asked if he could ask me a question.  I said yes.  So he asked, "Have you been drinking?".  My life came to a standstill.  I wanted to tell him the truth so badly!  I knew that he wouldn't get mad at me, yell at me or condemn me.  I'd seen him handle other situations like this with his friend's dads who'd been doing what I'd been doing (except for the not-getting caught part): he was always kind and gentle.  He accepted them as fellow addicts and asked them if they wanted help.  No strings attached.  No expectations.

But I couldn't tell him the truth.  What kept me from doing that was the idea, "if I tell him that I've been drinking, he'll then begin expecting me to stop!"  ---- and I can't fucking stop!!!  That's impossible.  Looking back, it seemed like I had a lot of willingness/desire at that time: but it was blocked by the certainty of the desired action being impossible. 

What happened then was I did lie to my son.  I answered, "No, I haven't been drinking."  I said it as defenselessly as I could.   My lying skills have always one of my strong points: he accepted what I said without question.  He just said that he had to ask because he smelled alcohol around my car and he couldn't not ask me this question.  He then let it go and went to have something to eat with his friends.

Me?  I sat there all alone.  Alone.  Isolated.  In my own personal hell.  I'd missed my golden opportunity to escape that hell and I was doomed.  After about an hour later, my son returned and we headed home.  We had our usual back and forth conversation that would follow me asking him "How did the meeting go?".  Just like always, he'd tell me stories without betraying confidences.  I'd listen --- feeling a growing sense of shame for my inability to face this problem with the kind of courage and persistence that my 15 year old son and these other young people were demonstrating on a daily basis.  We got home and I just walked by my wife and said that I was going to bed: I was very very tired.  It was a Friday and I'd had a very long week.  If only she knew how true that was.

I went right to sleep and then next thing I knew it was 6am the next morning and I was completely awake.  The first thought that came to my head was "I just can't stop drinking!"  It was the same thought that I had been waking up to for the last ten months, if not the last 30 years.  Then, a millisecond later, I had a second thought and that was, "Not being able to stop drinking is called "alcoholisim" and alcoholism is just a disease and I just happen to have it!"  Wow!  I just have a disease!  My body is different than those who are non-alcoholics!  In an instant, it seemed like my whole past life flashed before me and I understood everything that I had done over the years in terms of drinking and not being able to stop.  But this morning, another though followed and replaced the "hopelessness" that I had always felt in regards to the idea of "stopping" and that idea was I could do what my son had been doing: instead of "trying to stop" I could do what he had been doing, "trying to stay sober/clean one day at a time!".  In an instant my whole worldview changed.

What then happened, not that I knew it at the time, is that I became willing to try and stay sober one day at a time.  I stopped trying to stop.  As someone later told me, "I stopped stopping!".  Willingness only became effective for me after I came to a complete state of hopelessness: another state of mind.  Hopelessness is the state of mind that precedes giving up on something you want to do, but something you believe to be impossible.  I reached a state of hopelessness in terms of my belief that I could continue to drink and not be an alcoholic.  Once I was convinced to my core of the hopelessness of that, then all it took was a very small amount of willingness to try and stay sober one day, to try and do what my son had been doing successfully for over 5 months.  With willingness, I then took my first step.

Take care!

Mike L.

Another Drinking Dream...

Three days before completing my 8th year of sobriety this last Tuesday, I had a drinking dream.  It was the first one in several years.  During my first five years, I had one about every year.  Like clockwork orange, as it were.  All of the drinking dreams are consistent in several respects: the drinking dream never includes me actually drinking.  They all begin with me being somewhere by myself.  I look down to my right hand and there's a half empty glass of alcohol (usually Scotch...).  I see it and I know immediately where the other half is: in me.  As I'm realizing that I've relapsed, but before it sinks in, someone walks into the room: usually my wife, sometimes my son, sometimes my daughters.  And they see me and know that I've been drinking.  And then I wake up from the dream in a cold sweat, feeling as though I actually had drank.  As though I actually had relapsed. 

In the first four dreams, I would have a hard time convincing myself that I had not actually relapsed.  Even though I would know that it was a dream and not "real" --- my emotional state was stuck in a parallel universe where I had actually relapsed and I was tremendously upset that I drank.  I was ashamed.  I was guilty.  I was afraid.  Afraid of what?  Ultimately, I realized that all of these feelings were centered on the fact that I knew I was going to have to go back into the rooms of AA and raise my hand as being in my first 30 days.  As being in my first meeting since my last drink.

Why was I afraid of that?  I was afraid of that because I thought that people would judge me in various ways.  They wouldn't do it out loud, but they would say things to themselves or maybe to others in private conversations: Ol' Mike tried to do AA "his" way -- and he drank.  Maybe he'll be willing to take direction now and do it the way the book says to do it!   Maybe he'll get down on his knees and do a real 3rd step!  Maybe he'll join in with the prayers before and after the meeting and not separate himself from the group like he did: never praying with us. 

It took five of those dreams before I realized that the fear was that everyone would think/know that Mike was full of bullshit.  When I realized that, I laughed!  Shit, I don't need to drink to prove that fact!  So I began telling people about my drinking dreams and my related fears: and I let them know what they already knew, that I was full of bullshit, I didn't know shit, that I struggled like everyone else with figuring out how best to do this sobriety and living thing.  What happened is I made peace with my drinking dreams and I stopped fearing or dreading them. 

Then I didn't have another drinking dream for three years.  I did have an "almost drinking" dream in those three years: you know a dream where you are contemplating taking a drink, looking at the glass, tasting it before you've actually drank?  In that dream, before I did drink I became aware of the fact that I really didn't want to drink again.  And I woke up.  Weird.

But this last Sunday night, I actually had another drinking dream.  Similar to the first five in that I wasn't aware of actually taking the first or subsequent drinks: I was only aware that I had drank.  I was standing in front of a TV, holding a half empty bottle of wine in my right hand and a half empty glass of wine in my left hand---knowing where the other halves were.  And then I realized that I'd drank three days before completing 8 years of sobriety.  Fuck!  So close!  Why did I do that?!? 

But unlike the other dreams, I didn't wake up at that point.  What happened in this dream is I was then aware of myself being in a noon meeting up in Sacramento.  I was sitting in a chair as the meeting was beginning.  I saw all my close AA friends there in the room and I felt at home.  And when they asked if there was anyone in their first 30 days of sobriety, I saw myself raise my hand and say, "My name is Mike and I'm an alcoholic."  I was home and I was OK.

And then I woke up.  Sober.  Still three days from completing 8 years of sobriety.  And not afraid of raising my hand if I ever were to drink and make it back into the rooms of AA.  I've never really feared taking another drink: I've only feared that I would drink and then be too proud/stubborn/ashamed/fearful to come back into the rooms of AA and tell the truth.  My name is Mike.  And I am an alcoholic.

I am tremendously grateful this night for all those who I have seen come back into these rooms after having relapsed.  They've helped me understand that we always welcome back those who've fallen down and that we don't shoot our wounded.

Take care!

Mike L.

The Amends Process: Consequences, Not Promises

I'm pretty sure I've written this before, but I'll repeat just for clarity: I don't like calling The Promises "The Promises".  Makes it sounds like God is a arcade dealer who will hand me a prize if I knock over all the bowling pins.  So I prefer calling them "The Consequences."  These sorts of things seem to happen when you go through this process, not just the 9th step itself, but all of the steps preceeding and following the 9th step.  They are quite natural consequences to the process: assuming we are painstaking (pains taking, not pains avoiding) in the process.  I realized that ever more powerfully today as I've been able to be available to my son recently as he's going through a very rough spot in his life.  And that's a consequence.  Not a promise.

To place the recent events in context: when I got sober almost 8 years ago, I had gotten to the point where I was truly disconnected from every human being who meant something to me in my life, especially my wife of 20 years and my three children, ages 14, 16 and 19.  True, we were still technically a "family" -- I was married and I was a father -- but it seemed to be more of a technical qualification than one borne out by having actual and meaningful relationships with any one of those people.  Looking back with sober eyes, I see that I really wasn't there for them because I'd found another solution that replaced the need for other people: alcohol.  When I woke up sober on 10/21/01, the obsession left me and I accepted that I had a disease and that I needed to do what my son had done in order to deal with this disease and get my life back.  And I had no idea what that would entail or how long it would take.  I just had an inkling that it would work based on what had happened with my son: he was 5 months and 10 days clean when I woke up sober.

Contrary to contemporary AA wisdom, I very quickly began working on making my amends with my family, especially my wife.   Contemporary AA wisdom seems to stress doing the steps "in order" --- but that's not really doing it by the book you see.  Check out the 12x12, the chapter on the 9th step, and you'll discover that it acknowledges and even tacitly encourages the newcomer to begin the amends process early on in their recovery---true, there are some well chosen caveats to that effort to keep these amends efforts from causing additional injury/harm to that which we've already caused in the past.  But it seems to say that this need to try and repair or heal some of the damage that we've done in our relationships with others is a normal human need and that we needn't avoid doing what we can toward reconciliation even though we may not have even contemplated doing some of the earlier steps.

Two of these early efforts at mending involved my using the words, "I'm sorry...." and looking back, I think those were the only amends I ever made which included the phrase, "I'm sorry...".   In my first couple of months, there were several discussions with my wife where I would attempt to repair the damage of my actions and words with "I'm sorry..." and I truly meant that when I said it --- but it never seemed to have any positive impact on my wife.  It did have negative impacts in that much of what I was saying "sorry" for were things that hurt her deeply and challenged her capacity to trust, to forgive, to tolerate, to understand or to have compassion toward... me.

The other "I'm sorry" occurred around Christmas time, two months sober.  My oldest daughter had returned home from a year abroad studying.  Being away in Ireland, she'd missed being here when her younger brother had gotten clean and sober.  And she'd missed the last ten months of my drinking in secret and the last two months of my sobriety.  She returned home with a huge bag of resentment slung invisibly over her shoulder:  my son had, in her view, destroyed her childhood; her father had, in her view, never really been there for her.

One afternoon, my wife, daughter and I were sitting in the living room.  I was minding my own business, as I recall, probably reading a book.  They were chatting back and forth, watching TV.  Eventually their "chat" turned into a full fledged argument and at some point, my daughter said something extremely rude and somewhat vulgar to her month.  I stupidly stepped in to the fray and told my daughter, "Katie, you can't talk to your mother like that!".  She looked directly at me and snapped, "We weren't talking to you." and she paused as her resentments surfaced from the dark deep hole within and then she added, "And you never have been there for me.  Ever."  I don't remember the context of the whole discussion/argument or why that last comment was relevant to what was going on, but regardless, they struck me to my core.  And I started crying.   All I had every really wanted to be was a good father.  And it was clear as mud that I'd failed miserably in doing that.

My wife then came to my defense and jumped down Katie's throat, disputing the truth of Katie's hate-filled words to her father.  "That's not true!  Your dad has always been there for you.  He coached your basketball team, he's been to all of your plays, he's worked hard to provide home and shelter to you!"  I interrupted her though and held up my hand, "Nancy, stop.  Katie's right.  I haven't really been there for her in many many ways during her life.  I wasn't there for her emotionally because I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn't let anyone close to me and I couldn't get close to anyone, including all of you."  I was crying through all of that.  Barely able to talk.  At the end, I just looked at Katie and told her that I was sorry for not being there for her when she was growing up.  And that I was trying to deal with my problems, not just the drinking, but the living problems.  I was trying.   Katie didn't really say anything, but the moment was over.  I'd begun the amends process with my oldest daughter. 

That process took a long time.  Years.  It didn't involve any more "I'm sorry" statements from me.  It did involve my being there for my daughter.  Most recently, I was there for her when she got married.  I stayed out of most of the planning details (I'm not stupid!) but I did everything I was asked to do, without complaint.  Willingly.  Excitedly.  Gratefully.  I was available to her and her fiance when they struggled with the inevitable ups and downs of relationship and growing up.  I shared my experience and my hope.  Our house gradually became a home again.  Arguments and blowups gradually faded away; laughter, joking and compassion returned.  She asked me to dance with her at her wedding and asked me to protect her from anyone else from dancing with her (other than her husband) -- she hates dancing as much as her father! -- and I was there with her on the dance floor.  Being dad.  When we were done, my son and wife came dancing up next to us.  Nancy asked Katie if she wanted to switch partners and she said OK.  I then moved over to dance with my son, my wife awkwardly and laughing from her deepest self, began dancing with her daughter.  Being mom.   Being family.  Again. 

As the wedding reception was coming to a close, I saw my youngest daughter dancing, glowing with what can only be described as pure joy and happiness.  Rachel had lived through my son and my "dark years" and had survived and flourished.   She has a compassion and kindness and sensitivity that exceeds that of any saint that I've ever read about---and none of that would have been there were it not for both the "dark years" and the recovery accomplished by my son and me.  And so, I got up and went on to the dreaded dance floor one more time: and danced.  I even did my best at doing my daughter's "signature move" -- which is indescribable in written word and barely capturable on camera.  Someone did try their best though and that blurry image of me and Rae, still resides on my daughter's cell phone and shared with anyone and everyone as one of the most glorious moments in my life.

These consequences are truly beyond my wildest imagination or hope.  There is no justice in them.  That's why when someone asks me "how's life treating you?" my response is always: "Unfairly!  If it were treating me fairly, I'd be dead."   I think I'm ready for November to come now.  I'm ready for Gratitude.

Take care!

Mike L.

Does a Relapse Always Require a 1st Step Redo?

I've recently been working with a couple of guys who've been struggling with relapse and it's gotten me to rethink the issue of the necessity of reworking a 1st step after a relapse. While I think there's much wisdom behind the conventional wisdom suggesting that a person take a harder look at the 1st Step after a relapse, assuming they'd taken a gander at it before the relapse, I wonder if it's not possible that some people get stuck in the 1st Step and fail to stay sober because of their not moving forward to the 2nd Step.

In both cases that I'm dealing with, I believe both men have a good understanding of the basic tenets of the 1st Step, but for some reason they've both had problems translating that mental understanding into their heart of hearts.  Or maybe it's something as trivial as having the -ISM in alcoholism: incredibly short-term memory.  Regardless, I'm thinking that either or both of these guys might want to move on to the 2nd step and begin asking for help from something or someone greater than they are, as well as begin considering what alcoholic insanity is for them.

For me, it was helpful early on to begin asking others for help.  It seemed to happen quite naturally for me as soon as I walked into my first meeting.  I had a sense, I suppose from watching my son get clean as a result of going into these 12 step rooms, that I would find help within these rooms myself...if only I would ask.  If only I would accept the help so frequently offered to me.  For me, the 2nd step didn't really need to get to the thornier question of whether there was a God or not, or if there was a God, what that God was/wasn't like.  For me, the powerlessness found and accepted in the 1st step only called for me to accept help from all sorts of sources outside and even within myself.

The 2nd step has become much more one where I have come to understand the insanity of much of my life, both drinking and non-drinking.  The insanity that I have discovered in the 2nd step has to do with an awareness, gradual to be sure, that I spend much energy trying to be someone I'm not.  In terms of my drinking career, much energy was spent over 30 years or so trying not to be an alcoholic "like my father" --- well, trying that AND trying to drink "like" a non-alcoholic.  That was my alcoholic insanity.

The 2nd step has given me much freedom in my life: freedom to be who I am.  Who "that" is is always going to be somewhat mysterious and unknown, but I have developed a greater comfort in the knowledge that I am perfectly OK who I am, even if I'm not all that sure who that is.  It's beyond a simple "I'm OK, You're OK" --- much more to the truth of the matter, it's a "I'm not OK, You're not OK and THAT's OK!"

I know that all have their own path and I'm not one to know what another person's path is or will be.  I will raise this issue with these guys though and let them chew on it for awhile.  A 1st step is never really something that's completed and done with, so if they want, they can continue being with the 1st step as they continue moving on through the next steps....whether that be 2 or 3 or 10, 11 or 12.  I'm not a big stickler on doing the steps in order to be honest....  Whatever will work, I'm for.

Take care!

Mike L.

Are There Really Defects of Character?

I've always had somewhat of a problem with the concept of "defects of character" which is something I'd never heard of until getting sober almost 8 years ago. My problem with this concept is probably due to how "defects" were handled in my law school days. I suppose I still analyze "character defects" with lawyer-like eyes. As an aside: I decided shortly before completing law school that I didn't want to become a lawyer: if I were to do that, I'd surely become an alcoholic!! Anyway, I still think a little lawyerly (in no small part because I currently work for lawyers) to my wife's chagrine.
Anyway, here's how my "anal"yzing (thank you, wife) goes: When Ford built the infamous Pinto and the Pinto was later determined to have a defective gas tank, Ford became liable for such manufacturer's defects. Builders of products are expected to do their work with a level of care sufficient to protect the public.

If then, "defects of character" are like manufacturing defects, I then went on to wonder then if the creator/manufacturer of us humans should be subject to the same expectation and liability that we hold to other manufacturers like Ford, Chrysler, etc.? If indeed we are capable of having so-called defects of character, can't we legitimately blame our creator? Can we sue God?

A silly line of logic/reasoning, I know. Regardless, I've always been more ta little hesitant to buy-in to the popular AA rhetoric about the root of our drinking problem being some sort of defect of character (e.g., selfishness and/or self-centeredness). Nor do I buy the idea that somehow, if we're going to be able to stay sober, we're going to have to get rid of such defects of character and thereby reach some state of "happy-joy-freedom-ness." Aren't these the character flaws the very targets of the 6th and 7th Steps, if not all of the steps? No, not for me.

I've been convinced since very early in my own recovery that the root of my so-called drinking problem is physiological in nature. My body processes alcohol and other drugs differently than those who are not alcoholics. That progressive drinking problem sure did impact my physical, emotional, social and spiritual development or maturity; but, any immaturity in my physical, emotional, social and/or spiritual self is/was not the cause of my alcoholism. I personally don't believe that the root of my problem is spiritual, emotional or social.

How then did I work a 6th step? It was pounded into my head by my sponsors that "I was perfect, just the way I was and that I didn't need to change anything." The solution to the problem of alcoholism was not to stop being an alcoholic or having God remove my alcoholism. The solution was waking up to the fact that I was an alcoholic and accepting that truth at my innermost core. The alcoholism wasn't taken away, it's still here, alive and well. What's changed is something in me: in this recovery process, I'm understanding more the truth about who I am, why I've done what I've done in the past and what I can do to do better in the future.

In the first step, I came to a deep acceptance of who I am as alcoholic and that's becoming ever more clear to me as I continue down this path. In the second step, I came to understand that there was a path before me which would allow me to be the best Mike that I can be and that I don't need alcohol or other outside substances in order to be OK with myself. In the third step, I submitted my resignation as God and Controller of My Universe and began a process of letting go of my choke hold on life as it is.

In the fourth step, I took the time to reminisce about the past through the eyes of understanding and list out all those events of my life for which I still held a strong sense of shame or guilt. Guilt for the wrongs I'd done; Shame for who I was. The fifth step kept me from getting mired in this remembrance of the past and helped me achieve a sense of freedom and lightness by the mere sharing of these secrets with others. I discovered my humanness. That I was a human BEing, not a human WASing.

In the sixth step, what then was I entirely ready to have taken away? Well, first of all, I don't believe that anything was taken away by someone external to me, God or anyone else. What I experienced was that I came to a point when I realized that the only thing holding on to my past was me and that this behavior was causing me needless pain and keeping me from being the best Mike that I can be. When I realize that (this is an ongoing process for me...) truth in terms of any one particular "defect" or "flaw", I let go and move on. The defect or flaw has served its purpose and I can let it die a natural death. What died in my first step was not the disease (or defect/flaw) of alcoholism, but the false idea that being alcoholic was wrong or was my fault. It was neither wrong or my fault. It just was the way I was, the way I still am. Accepting that truth didn't make the disease go away, it allowed me to be perfectly at peace with this aspect of who Mike is.

The same happens with other aspects of who I am, what I suppose people are referring to when they talk about "defects of character." I suppose I don't like the phrase "defects of character" because it seems to convey that there's something wrong with me. And the only thing wrong with me is the fact that I haven't yet discovered the truth about me in terms of any particular "defect" or incompleteness about me. Once I discover that truth, what was once a "defect" or flaw, becomes awareness and truth. It becomes perfectly ok. Defects of character are like coins, they all have two sides as it were: a positive and a negative side. We tend to be more aware of the negative side, because that's the easiest for us to see and the easiest for others to see AND point out to us!

If I were to sue God in court for any sort of claim that this creation called Mike was defective in any way, I think that God's response to the judge would simply be that "I'm not done with Mike yet!" I am not a manufactured being, I'm a being in the process of creation. God's not done with me yet. My suit would be thrown out as being premature. As things stand now, my sponsors were right (again!) --- I'm perfect just the way I am, right now and right here. And I'm not done becoming yet!

I like what David Richo said in Shadow Dance, "An acorn is not a defect, only a not-yet!"

Take care!

Mike L.

Good and Wicked

Since I've been doing this "shadow work" all sorts of strange things have been happening to me. 

Vivid dreams.  Waking up from one such dream Saturday morning--a dream which ended with the thought, "Everything's true!" --waking up fully conscious and awake and feeling as though I was surrounded in white light, within and without.  The light would begin to fade, but then when I would focus back on the thought "Everything's true!" and apply that to some person or event or circumstance: the light would return.  A deep sense that everything was "just perfect the way it was" -- including me.  It seemed to be with me on and off the remainder of that day.  Now when I write about it, it doesn't seem real or powerful anymore.

Driving around for several days and noticing everytime I accelerated or slowed down that something would roll forward or backward in the side pocket of the passenger door of my car.  Not doing anything about it for several days, just noticing the sound, being a little annoyed about it but not annoyed enough to reach over and find out what it was or to secure it.  Then one day on the way to work, I heard the noise one more time and I looked over toward the noise and noticed that it was being caused by a loose CD in the side pocket.  I couldn't tell which CD it was because it the label of the CD was facing away from me.  I then reached over to grab it and looked at it and it was the soundtrack to the musical play, "Wicked". 

While I love this musical and have seen it on stage multiple times, I don't think I ever heard the words so vividly as I did that morning when I decided to forgo my usual recitation of various "stuff" on my way to work and to listen to this CD one more time.  Within moments, I realized that this musical captured or synthesized all the shadow work I had done to date and brought it to a new level or depth.  I was fixated on the musical the entire commute to Sacramento and before I knew it I was at work.  Every word and lyric resonated with me and what has been going on in the last several weeks.

Wicked, if you don't know, is the prequel to the Wizard of Oz: where the Wizard of Oz begins, the story of Wicked begins and ends.   

The Wizard of Oz begins with the tornado dumping (albeit in a dream...) Dorothy and her house on to and killing the so-called Wicked Witch of the West.  Dorothy is then welcomed to Oz by the so-called Good Witch of the North, Glenda) and pointed down the Yellow Brick Road toward Oz and the so-called Wonderful Wizard. 

Wicked begins with that same tragic ending to this supposed wicked witch, Elfaba, and the same seemingly kind act of the goodly Glenda....  As all the munchkins were celebrating the death of the Wicked Witch, one of them asked the Good Witch Glenda, "Didn't you know her?".  Didn't Glenda know the Wicked Witch? 

Glenda then becomes the storyteller and rewinds back in time to when Elfaba and Glenda (then Galinda) met as roommates in college.  Without going into the story more, let me just say that when I listened to the musical again the other morning, I was transfixed by the "ultimate truth" of this fanciful story and how it enlightened my own journey seeking "to become" good.  For years, seeing that "good" as something exterior, to be learned and/or faked.  Good being a state which others determined and defined.  Good being out of my reach.  Leaving me isolated and alone.

I listened to the CD multiple times in the last week and I can only say that I've come to understand this as a perfect metaphor for my own journey to this point, that I am Good, that I am Wicked...that I am "me" and that I am Unlimited.  I must admit though, that much of the week was spent yelling "Liar!" to much of what Glenda and others were saying about what it means to be "good" or "wicked".   They never listened, not even once.  But, gradually, I have begun to listen...

Take care!

Mike L.

A Different Perspective on Turning Things Over

Until recently, when I heard other members talk about the concept of turning things over I'd always interpreted them to be saying that they were giving something (i.e., some problem) over to their Higher Power, you know, God.  This morning as I was driving to work and beginning to go through my various prayers and other recitations, I discovered another way at seeing this turning over process.

I was reciting a poem by Rumi called "The Guest House" -- a really beautiful poem that I found in one of Jack Kornfield's books several years ago.  I have recited this poem to myself many many times over the last two years, but only this morning did I see it differently.  I saw it as a most insightful, beautiful and powerful description of what I've been doing recently in terms of "shadow work."

“The Guest House” by Rumi

This being human is a guest house,
every morning, a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness:
some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all,
even if they are a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house empty of all its furniture.

Still treat each guest honorably;
they may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice:
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

This poem seems to capture the essence of shadow work: The Guest House is my highest Self and these guests are not so much outsiders coming in, but insiders coming out into the open as unexpected visitors.  My past (and present...) strategy of avoiding and destroying these unwanted visitors was/is the very building process of my Shadow self.  This new strategy of "welcome" toward Shadow self will, so my little voice tells me and which I believe, transform this shack of a self into a home, filled with light and shadows, laughter and tears, and room for all.

The only change I am going to make to this poem now (which will now make this "my poem") is the last word.  My new ending will be "Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from within."

How does this relate to the concept of turning over?  Well, once I'd meditated on this poem in the light of my shadow work, I remembered this concept of turning over and as I was mulling it over I remember my father teaching me about a gardening technique called "turning over":  at a certain time of year (I think it was this time of year if I'm not mistaken..) after the plants had finished producing all their flowers and/or fruit, it was important to "turn over" the ground of the garden.  This turning over process involved taking a shovel or pitch fork and digging up the earth and turning it over so that the bottom most soil was now on top and the soil that was on top was now on the bottom.  Once this was done, the remaining work would be done by Nature: the dry leaves and depleted soil would now be underneath the surface and there in the dark (shadow) the dead leaves would be transformed into new and rich soil.  And there would come a time, in it's proper season, for the turning over process to be repeated.  Again.  And Again.  And Again.

And this is how I'm feeling now with this new Shadow work adventure.  It's a turning over process within me.  There's nothing really to be afraid of.  I just need to turn the soil.  Nature will do all of the real work, the real healing.

Take care!

Mike L.