AA began before Dr. Bob's Last Relapse

Yesterday I blogged about my thoughts about when AA began and how I am of the opinion that it began the day Bill Wilson almost drank again after having stayed sober for about 6 months. Instead of drinking that day, he decided to try to find another drunk to help get and stay sober. Because of that decision, I think AA came about. Because of that decision, he eventually went over to a stranger's house and sat at the man's table to try and help that man, Dr. Bob Smith, find a solution to his problem. The same problem that Bill had: alcoholism.

At that kitchen table, two men shared their stories and began to talk about the solution that was only in it's earliest infancy. The solution centered around staying sober one day at a time and helping another alcoholic get and stay sober.

But in yesterday's blog, I didn't talk about the most important reason I have for considering the date of that kitchen table encounter between Bill and Dr. Bob as the beginning of Alcoholics Anonymous. And that's because subsequent to that meeting, Dr. Bob, co-founder of AA, found it necessary to take another drink. Subsequent to that first meeting with Bill, Dr. Bob made a trip to Atlantic City for some sort of convention and during that trip he began drinking again. And he showed back up in Akron some days later drunk as a skunk and humiliated.

But there again was Bill, reaching out a hand to help a suffering alcoholic. Apparently, that drunk was Dr. Bob's most successful drunk ever because it led him to begin a new day with the hope that he could stay sober one more day. Strangely, from our perspective 74 years later, because Dr. Bob was scheduled to perform surgery the afternoon he returned from Atlantic City, he was shaking so badly from the withdrawal from alcohol, that Bill decided to give his co-founder a glass of beer to sooth his nerves and hands enough that he could perform that surgery with steady hands (and beer breath---I don't think they had Tic Tacs back then).

But the first thing these two guys did was set out on a path of action: no study of the Big Book or working of 12 Steps for them (since neither existed at that time). Nope, their program of action was the same that Bill latched on to in the lobby of the hotel just a few days prior: they had to find another drunk to help.

I personally feel it's important to acknowledge that one of our co-founders saw it necessary to drink again and that he survived that drink and went on to live out his remaining years sober and, critically important to that sobriety, helping thousands of other drunks get and stay sober. Dr. Bob is something of the Patron Saint of those who drink again after getting sober the first time. So those of you who feel overwhelmed with shame and guilt over having relapsed, take heart: you are not alone and, in fact, you're in some really great company.

Take care!

Mike L.

AA's Beginning at a Kitchen Table

Over the last week or so, several people have asserted in meetings that June 10th was AA's 74th Birthday. And this has been irritating me no end. First of all, AA's not a human being, so it doesn't have a "birth" day --- it has an Anniversary. Second of all, and more importantly, while most people consider June 10, 1935 as the day AA began, that's not necessarily the case. While June 10, 1935 is the day that Dr. Bob got sober and stayed sober, that doesn't necessarily make it the beginning date of AA. In fact, there have been at least two people who would argue that AA began somewhat earlier than June 10, 1935. And while those two people differ in terms of what day AA actually began, they both agree that AA began at a kitchen table.

The first guy that I'm talking about is Ebby Thatcher. He believed that Alcoholics Anonymous had its real beginning when he went to visit his drunk friend Bill Wilson to share with him his new found sobriety. A sobriety that Ebby had found through the Oxford Groups. Ebby reached out to another drunk because reaching out to others was somehow a part of his staying sober. When he and Bill sat down at the Wilson's kitchen table, Bill noticed that something had changed with his formerly drunk friend Ebby and he eventually was devastated to learn that Ebby's solution to his drinking problems was to "get religion." Bill's devastation came because if religion was the solution, then he was doomed. Ebby would have difficulty actually staying sober over the remaining years of his life and it's reported that he held on to a resentment toward both Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob because they were elevated to the status as "C0-Founders" of AA and Ebby was left behind without such distinction or honor.

The second guy that I referred to above is me. While I don't think I'm the only one who believes that there's a beginning to AA that does not fall on June 10, 1935, I'm the only one talking about this right now. In my mind, the beginning of AA came about some weeks before Dr. Bob's getting sober on June 10, 1935: the real beginning occurred before Dr. Bob's last relapse, when he and Bill Wilson met and talked for several hours sitting at the Smith's kitchen table in Akron, Ohio. That meeting was, in my less than humble opinion, the real beginning of Alcoholics Anonymous.

When Bill Wilson made his business trip to Akron, Ohio he was about 6 months sober. His sobriety program included, among other things, the key ingredient of trying to help other alcoholics recover from their shared disease. The business deal fell through and in a moment of despair Bill found himself standing in the lobby of his hotel not knowing what to do: everything he'd worked for had failed, not only his business ventures, but also every attempt he'd made to help other alcoholics. None, other than him, had been able to stay sober. Standing there in complete despair, he looked at the door leading into the bar and he heard the voices and laughter and the tinkling of glasses. He thought about going in for just a soda -- maybe that would help bring him out of this doldrums. But for some reason, he had a second thought and that was the thought that eventually brought about the beginning of AA: "I need to find a drunk!". He knew that if he was to stay sober that day, he had to find another drunk to try and help.

That's when he say a sign in the lobby that listed various churches and phone numbers. He called several and eventually got hold of a woman who answered his call: He explained to her that he was an alcoholic and that he had been sober six months. He explained that he needed to find another drunk to help in order that he could stay sober. While she was not an alcoholic, this woman was part of a group of people (the Oxford Group again...) who included one member who seemed to fit Bill's requirements and that drunk was Dr. Bob Smith. The woman called Dr. Bob and he agreed to come over to her house and sit down with Bill for fifteen minutes---but no longer.

Bill went over to the woman's house and sat down with Dr. Bob at their kitchen table (not sure if that's factually true, but for now, humor me...) and they talked and listened to one another for hours. For both men, they identified with each other and their struggles with alcohol. They also identified with the inability to stop drinking and staying stopped. And Dr. Bob was taken with Bill's idea that the secret to staying sober was trying to help other alcoholics get and stay sober. Even though Dr. Bob drank again, on a business trip of his own, I still consider the date of these two men sitting down at the Smith's kitchen table as the real beginning of Alcoholics Anonymous. In fact, I think that the fact that Dr. Bob drank again after this encounter with Bill Wilson is actually the most important argument for treating this kitchen date as AA's Anniversary! You see, the secret that they'd discovered---helping another alcoholic in order to stay sober---actually worked! Bill stayed sober. And eventually, Dr. Bob did too! And because the two of them committed themselves to this new AA adventure (ok, I know that they made this commitment on June 10, 1935!) this weird organization called AA came about and continues to this day.

I realize that in an organization's development, there are all sorts of various milestones and key events that lead to the organization's coming about and all are important in the overall process. But for me, lone wolf that I am, the key event in the coming about of AA was most clearly the day these two men sat down and shared their stories with one another. Had that not happened, it's not at all clear that AA as we know it would have come about. And if AA hadn't come about, I'm not at all sure I'd be sober today. Although, who knows: there are many kitchen tables out there and many struggling alcoholics. Who's to say that two other people---maybe even a woman!---wouldn't eventually have done the same thing that Bill and Bob did.

Take care! And Happy Anniversary fellow AAers, whatever day you want to celebrate it.

Mike L.

The Object of Our Focus

In several recent meetings, people have been talking about their struggles with getting rid of defects of character. It's coming not so much from those new in the process, but from those with quite a few years. I've never been a big fan of this whole issue of defects of characters and I've written about that before, so won't repeat it here. What I haven't talked about though, is how I approach those things in me that I don't particularly like or which seem to cause me and/or others harm or hurt.

My approach, like most things AA, is not really original. I first learned about this technique by reading Dr. Paul O's story in the Big Book (Acceptance is the Answer) and seeing how he dealt with these defects in himself and in others by not focusing on them, but rather, focusing on what's good in others and in himself. He described this as his "magnifying mind" --- whatever he focused on got bigger. If he focused on his wife's weaknesses, it was the weaknesses that would grow and multiply. If, on the other hand though, he focused on the good qualities in his wife, those qualities seemed to magically grow. In fact, they grew so much that they seemed to annihilate the negative traits that used to occupy all his waking moments. He found the same thing to be true in terms of how he looked at himself: if he focused on the negative, the negative grew. If he focused on the positive, the positive grew.

I also learned about this different approach to living from Dr. Earle (also an author of one of the stories in the Big Book, Physician Heal Thyself). He too was not a big fan of the defect of character bandwagon in AA and didn't spend much time at all talking about such rubbish. He encouraged newcomers to not rush into the 4th/5th step process --- to hold off on that until at least a year of being sober. He felt that most of us were sufficiently convinced of how horrible we were as human beings that we didn't need to devote excessive energy in early recovery on giving more strength to such self-loathing and self-hatred. Of course, if someone had something really bothering them and weighing them down, he'd always make himself available to talk that stuff out so that it didn't drag us down into a dark hole---but for the most part, he suggested that people focus on healing their bodies, getting connected with others in recovery and getting settled in the "not drinking" part of the program.

In my own early recovery, I bought into the popular AA logic in terms of expending much energy trying to change myself and my surroundings and relationships. Tried to repair years of damage in a single bound only to cause even more harm and hurt. Eventually, I was convinced that that was not working and worse than not working, it was causing more harm. I became willing to try another way and that's when I started trying to develop the new habits of being kind toward myself and others, trying not to tear myself and others down by judgments and condemnation, trying to find compassion for myself and others.

Eventually, I started seeing that each of my so-called "defects" were like coins: they all had at least two sides. The side that I had always seen as the bad, negative and painful side. But they also had another side to them which seemed to balance things out for me: the other side was the good and the whole. Alcoholism is the best example of one of the coins: the negative side was easy (too easy) for me to see and document. But the positive side put things in balance: were I not an alcoholic, I would not have all that I have in my life right now: my recovery, my relationship with my son, my wife and other children. None of those relationships would be as deep and real as they are were it not for the fact that I am an alcoholic in recovery. And I wouldn't be an alcoholic in recovery if I had not been an alcoholic in my disease. Both sides of that coin are absolutely necessary, and therefore, good.

So in the end, I've come to see so-called defects of character not as cancerous growths requiring surgical removal. I see them more as leaves on the tree of my life: each and every one has a reason and a purpose. And each and everyone one of them will eventually serve it's purpose and will eventually fall to the ground. I don't need to rip them off: they will fall when it's their time.

My life goes though cycles of growth, hibernation, death and rebirth. Everything is perfect. Everything has been perfect. Everything will be perfect. Just the way it is.

Take care!

Mike L.

Alcoholic's Greatest Problem and Greatest Solution: The Ego

As I've mentioned in other recent blogs, two of my friends in AA have recently relapsed and while both are sober again each seem to be having their own struggles with the fact that they relapsed and with coming back into the rooms of AA and raising their hands, disclosing that they are once again in their 1st 30 days of sobriety.

I remember once listening to an old, now deceased, circuit speaker named Chuck Chamberlain. In his pitch, he said that the greatest problem and the greatest solution for the alcoholic was the Ego. Then he laughed and asked, "What's the Ego? Well, the best definition I've ever heard for ego is "The conscious feeling of being separate from. Separate from what? Separate from other people, separate from things, separate from God, separate from ourselves." When he wrote his book, which seems to be a verbatim transcription of his standard pitch, he included a drawing of this ego: it was a little stick figure (representing "me") standing alone and outside a big circle. Inside the circle were the words, "God, Other People, Things, Ourself".

I was immediately taken with this view of a person's total isolation and loneliness. Totally disconnected from anyone and anything. Alone. That was me toward the end of my drinking. Isolated and Alone. I couldn't let anyone "in" or within touching distance because I simply couldn't accept myself for who I had become: a drunk just like my dad.

Chuck C. refers to this isolated and lonely existence as the result of an unhealthy Ego. This sort of ego is one that separates us from others and from ourselves. For the alcoholic, it spells death because it's an existence that's provides the disease of alcoholism full reign over our body and choices. I understood immediately why Chuck characterized this as the alcoholic's greatest problem.

What was never clear to me though is what Chuck meant by his comment that the ego was also the source of the alcoholic's ultimate solution. It didn't seem to make sense and I listened to his tape multiple times trying to find out where he explained this strange and perplexing concept. I also bought his book and couldn't find any answers. So, I've made up my own.

The way I understand this healthy ego is by considering several concepts used in AA for a long time now: the deflation of the ego or ego deflation, and getting right-sized. Some people seem to take the approach that the ego is bad and must be demolished or annihilated. What little psychology I've had tells me that the ego is a essential component of being human. The unhealthy ego, it seems, is the sense of self that extends beyond who I really am and is used to keep others from getting close to or hurting "me". The healthy ego though, is more right-sized in some way and is not used to keep others away as it is to keep a healthy boundary between me and others. It accepts that human be-ing means getting close to others, touching, hurt, pain, love. It permits connection without loss of self.

A healthy ego does not cringe when someone gives them a compliment or expresses admiration. A healthy ego does not need to put others down in order to make themselves feel better or superior. A healthy ego can accomplish a moral inventory without over-exaggerating the good or the bad. In fact, the healthy ego doesn't have much use for such distinctions between good and bad. Whatever is, is. We see things clearly and try to find ways to do better in the future.

For the alcoholic, the healthy ego is one that accepts the truth of addiction and all its ramifications. It looks back to past actions when we were drinking and sees things for what they are. It sees the compulsion and the obsession underneath the behavior. It sees the craving, the need for more and more and more. It understands the need for abstinence. It understands the permanent and progressive nature of this disease and what will happen should I put alcohol or other mind-altering drugs in my body.

The healthy ego also has the ability to feel compassion toward others who share this disease, both when they are drinking and when they are striving to get and remain sober. The healthy ego has the ability to empathize with other alcoholics, to identify and connect with another person's struggles, confusion and fears. They can say with total honesty and compassion, "I understand. I've been there. Here, let me help you. There is a solution. Let's find it. You don't have to do this alone."

Take care!

Mike L.

Relapse and Raising One's Hand Again

I've had two experiences dealing with friends relapsing this weekend, one was a sponsee who had worked hard and well to achieve 18 or 19 days before he drank today and the other was a guy who I'd known for awhile at one of my meetings--I'm not sure how much time he actually had as he rarely talked in meetings and I only knew him in passing--but he began drinking a few days ago and called me Saturday morning asking for help.

My sponsee called me tonight after he'd had a few beers---not enough to be really drunk, but enough to begin feeling a horrible on rush of shame over what he'd done. For some reason, he called me before taking his next drink or before going out to buy more alcohol. I took that as something of a miracle---the more expected/normal thing for someone to do after relapsing would be to go ahead and give themselves the go ahead and get really fucked up because they'd already broken the "first drink" barrier. But he called me instead.

The other guy had been drinking for two days and by 10am Saturday, he was already quite well on his way for a third day of drinking. Again, the miracle: he began reaching out to people he knew and had phone numbers for. When I took his call, I was at my daughter's house begin a long day of planting flowers and getting her house ready for a family party next weekend for my other daughter (the recent graduate). Not something I could walk away from. But when he called, I walked off to the side of the house and talked to him for about 10-15 minutes. He was at home and it appeared to be a safe place. His wife was on the way there to be with him as was someone else from AA who was taking off from work to be with him. I asked him to try to help them find all of his alcohol (or anything else) and get it removed from the house. I suggested that he avoid beating himself up for what he'd done, try to not put more alcohol in his body and once he'd sobered up enough, to get himself to a meeting. That's when he told me that he was terrified to raise his hand. He was embarrassed and felt he had let us down. He didn't think he could raise his hand again.

That was the same fear that was going through my sponsee: he was fearing tomorrow's noon meeting and raising his hand. He'd been feeling so good the last two weeks! He'd not been able to string 1 or 2 days before this recent run of almost three weeks. He was so close to being able to "not have to raise his hand anymore!".

I'm not sure either one of these guys understood what I tried to share with them: either because they were still somewhat drunk or because I think this is a hard concept for even sober alcoholics to understand:

I'm not most afraid of drinking again. I suspect that that may very well happen to me at some point in my life, maybe even multiple times. Who knows. I certainly don't want that to happen. I can't even imagine how it would happen. But I know that it could happen. And while I'm afraid of that happening, there's one thing that scares the shit out of me far more than the possibility of me drinking again: and that's that were I to drink again, I fear that I would be too ashamed to come back into a meeting of AA and raise my hand as a newcomer---or more accurately---as someone in my first meeting after my last drink. That's what I fear most.

The fear that I might drink is a real fear because I don't really know for sure what will happen as a result of that first drink. I suspect all sorts of bad stuff, but I don't know for sure. The fear that I would be too ashamed to come back into AA and begin the process again: that's a more dreaded fear because I do know the result of that: all sorts of bad stuff and no real hope of getting sober or staying alive.

For me, I've found it worthwhile to work through both of these fears so that they are not so frightful. I've accepted that alcoholics, even recovering ones who work good programs, will sometimes drink. I'm not shocked when that happens. I'm actually more shocked that it doesn't happen more often!

I've also come to the awareness that the night on October 23, 2001, when I walked into my first meeting after my last drink and raised my hand and said, "My name is Mike and I'm an alcoholic." that that was the best night of my entire life. And now, seven and a half wonderful years later, that same night is still the best night of my entire life. Were it not for that night, nothing that followed could have happened and nothing that came before it could have come to provide the foundation for so much growth and healing.

So, were I ever to drink again, I'd pray and hope that I would be able to get a second chance to raise my hand and give this life of sobriety another shot.

I hope my two friends come to understand this strange fact of recovery. I suspect their life may depend on it.

Take care!

Mike L.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine died...

A few weeks ago, a close friend of mine died of cardio/renal failure. He'd been a Jesuit priest for many years and was loved and respected by many people, particularly for his ability to listen and to love.

By the time I learned how sick he was, he'd already lost conscious contact with this world and it was too late for me to talk with him about some things that I'd always wanted to share with him, but never seemed to find the right time to do that. When I attended his vigil this last Sunday night and then again at the funeral mass on Monday morning, I was holding on to a rather painful burden coming from my not having taken the time to reach out to Frank before he died. For a variety of reasons, I'd always sensed that he had some sort of struggle related to alcohol and I always felt that I was listening and watching for the right time to reach out to him to help him if I could. It appears that I waited too long.

But as a result of watching another priest, Fr. John, perform most all of the responsibilities in terms of leading the community in the various rites Catholics have for going through all the various aspects of grieving a loved one's death, as well as celebrating one's life, I think I have been able to process this whole burden in a much healthier way. Part of my doing that though was drafting a letter to Fr. John and using that letter to bring some sort of closure to my relationship with this wonderful man, Fr. Frank. A man that I didn't really know, but that I loved nonetheless. And a man that loved me, even though he really didn't know me.

I haven't sent this letter yet, but wanted to post a draft here.

Fr. John-


I'm sure you don't remember me, but I'm a former member to St P. parish and friend of Fr. Frank Houdek. Frank had been a close part of our family for many years.

I attended both the vigil (you kindly asked my wife, Nancy, to read one of the readings) and the funeral mass on Monday.

I can't tell you how touched and moved by both ceremonies and, in particular, your kindness and compassion expressed in countless words and actions. Thank you.


The main reason for this communication though is to try and bring some closure to my relationship with Frank. Something you said on Monday at the funeral mass struck me to the core. It hit me where I was most troubled and pained since hearing of Frank's turn for the worse: a time when I realised I'd simply waited too long to have a heart to heart, face to face conversation with this man I now know "I didn't know---but that I loved."

I've known Frank for many years---we met sometime around the time when he joined St. P's staff and as a result of his friendship with a friend of Nancy's. What connected Frank and me at first was our Jesuit past (I joined the California province in 1976 but left after about 3 1/2 years). Not long after leaving the Jesuits, Nancy and I fell in love and were married (at St P's) in 1980.

More than our Jesuit connection though, I was was always drawn to the kindness and love that I saw in Frank---it exemplified the best of what I cherished in the Jesuit tradition and way of life. It mirrored the best that I had seen in a few Jesuit mentors I had come close to in my short time with them. It came out from Frank most often when Frank talked with me about my young son Pat.

Pat has always been a most loving and sensitive child, but at a very young age he began confronting some dark personal demons and ultimately began using drugs and other things to escape from the intolerable pains associated with just living. His drug use started when he was about 9 years old (then a student at St P's...). His life and our family became an ever increasing living hell over the next 5-6 years. The hell extended beyond our family in various ways and certainly into St. P's School and parish community. No one, including Pat, my wife or myself, had any real clue that drugs had become the primary solution for Pat and his problems with life. That awareness only started to surface in each of us as the drugs stopped being a solution and became an all encompassing problem all in themselves.

Before we became aware of Pat's problem, we all did and said many things that displayed anger, fear, resentment, frustration, despair and hopelessness. Looking back, it's clear to me that all these words and actions were based in a flickering love and an overwhelming fear. All were based in ignorance about the dis-ease of addiction. Ultimately, through the kindness and wisdom of many strangers, including Frank's, Pat began a process of recovery that included almost as many failures as successes. Pat celebrated 8 years clean on May 10, 2009. In a few weeks, he'll turn 24 years old. Quite a miracle story.

Back to Frank: all during Pat's "dark years" Frank was always a source of kindness and love to me and each member of my family. Never did I see Frank without him asking me, "How's Pat doing?" No judgment. No frustration toward Pat. Just love. Then when Pat got clean just before his 16th birthday, Frank became Pat's most ardent cheerleader. He and Pat became close --- connected --- although I know little of the extent of their friendship.

Back to me and why I'm writing you now: when Pat began his recovery process in January 2001, I began to hit my own "bottom" in terms of my own drug (alcohol) use. Until that time in my life, I'd always been able to "prove" to myself and others, that I wasn't an alcoholic like my dad. He couldn't stop (he died of alcoholism about the time Pat began using drugs). I could!

In fact, I repeatedly "stopped" drinking hundreds of times between the ages of 18 and 48. But always, as soon as I became convinced that I was "stopped" and therefore not an alcoholic, I would start drinking again. The cycle of stopping and starting continued until the day Pat completed an intake interview with a counselor at a local hospital's "adolescent chemical dependency program" -- Pat had voluntarily agreed to begin that program at the suggestion of one of those "strangers" who'd miraculously crossed our path and the perfect moment in time.

But after the counselor had met with Pat for about an hour, he asked my wife and I to join them in his office. He informed us that Pat qualified for their program, but that before he admitted him into this outpatient program, my wife and I needed to agree to a couple of conditions: (1) we needed to remove all alcohol and drugs from our home (my wife and I both answered "Yes!" to this request, although I must admit that she said it a little faster than I did! -- you see, she's not an alcoholic. I had to think something to myself before saying Yes out loud and that was "Well, I guess I can drink somewhere else!") and (2) we need to stop all use of alcohol or any other drug while Pat was in this treatment program which was going to last somewhere around 6 months.

Well, that was my personal and dark bottom: that was the first time in my life when I knew without question that I couldn't stop drinking. And I couldn't tell them that I couldn't stop drinking! because if I told them that truth, they'd naturally start expecting me to stop! Well! I just realized for the first time in my life that I couldn't stop! And when I realized I couldn't stop: I realized it to my core. I simply couldn't go one day without some amount of alcohol in me to relieve the stress and pain that filled my life.

What's happened since is that I eventually woke up one morning and realized, once again, that I couldn't stop drinking. But that morning, October 20, 2001, I then became aware of the fact that the inability to stop drinking was called "alcoholism" and that I just happened to have this disease. All of a sudden, everything I had done up to that point, especially in terms of my drinking, became perfectly clear. It all made sense. What used to only bring feelings of shame and guilt, now brought only compassion and understanding.

I've been actively involved in AA for the last seven and a half years. I never broadcast to those outside of the program that I was a recovering alcoholic: it's really a personal matter for me. But whenever I sensed that someone was struggling with issues related to alcohol or other drugs, I would never hesitate to reach out to them by telling them my own story with this issue. It took me five years before I shared my story with Frank. We were sitting in our backyard for some family celebration and late in the afternoon Frank and I found ourselves sitting alone at one of the tables. He asked me how Pat was doing in his recovery and we talked about that for a little while, but then I felt the time was right to disclose my own recovery with this friend of mine. I did that in part because he was a close friend, but to be honest, I also did it because I had some sense that Frank himself had struggled with this perplexing and subtle disease over the years. And I thought that if I told him my story, he might feel comfortable sharing his with me.

He was clearly touched as he listened to me tell him what I have essentially just told you. He shared that over the years of his priestly life, he'd had quite a few brother Jesuits and priests come to him with their own struggles with alcoholism and how he'd tried to help them. He made only a slight reference to his own personal struggles with this issue, but our quiet time alone came to an end and we never again talked together at this level.

When Frank's recent illness became known to me, I knew that I had waited too long. His illness was such that he was losing consciousness of who people were and where he was. It seemed wrong for me to try and barge into this difficult transition time with my own need to unburden my soul.

At the memorial a few weeks ago, you ended your homily with a wonderful story about an elderly couple who had been married for many years. Toward the end, the husband began suffering from severe dementia and was hospitalized. As the wife went to visit him, she would suffer greatly because this husband of hers would not be able to remember who she was or remember her name. One day, toward the end, she was standing beside his bed holding his hand and she knew once again that this was a day where he did not know who was standing there holding his hand. She broke down and said to him, "You don't know who I am, do you?". The husband then looked into her eyes with tremendous compassion and replied, "No, I don't know you, but I love you."

That story cut into my core. It gave me a truth beyond my own understanding in terms of what had happened between me and my friend Frank. I didn't know him, but I love him. He didn't know me, but he loved me.

John, this long winded story is my way of saying thanks to you for your service and compassion toward Frank and all who loved him. Most especially, thanks for telling this story. Someone once said that the shortest distance between me and the Truth is the Story.

Take care!

Mike L.

Serenity: Highly Overrated

I often hear people in meetings and elsewhere talking as though they crave Serenity as some sort of drug. I certainly hear this craving when others are praying the Serenity Prayer in meetings (as you know, I don't participate in this practice of communal prayer in AA meetings....but don't me get me started!): Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change... And I hear it when some people begin advocating rigorous efforts at prayer and meditation: do it and you will find serenity!

I personally believe Serenity to be highly overrated. Looking back over what I remember of the last 55 years, I can't remember one important or substantial thing that I have learned from a moment of serenity, no matter how long that moment. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero.

Instead, I see that I've learned most important insights into life by means of pain, sorrow, grief, anxiety, depression, anger, shame, fear, jealousy, discomfort and so-called character defects. That's an abbreviated list to be sure. But in this list of mine, you will not find the blessed experience of Serenity.

I think we are confused when we think that we need serenity in order to do anything, including the ability to accept the things we cannot change. Personally, I've never found the ability to accept something that I cannot change as a result or consequence of first experiencing a sense of serenity and/or peace. Rather, I tried as best I could to change something that I thought needed to be changed...and tried and tried and tried to change it...all to no avail. And if you know me, you'll know that I didn't give up then. I tried and tried and tried again and again and again.

The clearest and most obvious example of this doomed attempt to change something that I could not change was my long term attempt to "not be an alcoholic like my father." Every single time when my alcoholism would pop out like a jack-in-the-box into my life, I would reel back in shame and humiliation and then devote Herculean amounts of energy to push that fact back down and cover the lid on it. By God, I was not going to become an alcoholic!

Did God or anyone else grant me serenity before I finally accepted what I could not change (the fact that I was indeedy an alcoholic!)? No. No way. What happened is that I ran out of energy and willpower. I finally gave up the fight. I fully accepted who I was: alcoholic. When I did that, everything in my life, past and present, all came together into a comprehensible whole. Everything made sense. Every drink, every drunk, every shame-filled aspect of my diseased life.

I think that's what people call an experience of serenity.

And it happened to me that morning of October 20, 2001. And it's happened many times since. Not for long periods. Just brief moments when things all seem to be what they are without any desire or longing on my part for them to be anything other than what they are.

I said that serenity was overrated. I didn't say that serenity didn't exist or that it wasn't an amazing experience. It does and it is. But if I begin the day "seeking it" I never find it. It's not the prerequisite to my being able to accept what I cannot change: it's the consequence of my full and unreserved acceptance of that which I cannot change: Me. The mysterious ever changing Me.

Take care!

Mike L.