More finding God...

I realized after reading some comments on yesterday's article, I had substantially missed the point of my own experience.

I had left a meeting in the mountains to make a couple of phone calls and was struck by how gorgeous the aspen were on a hillside. The late evening light was making the deep golds and the reds on the crown of the hill just brilliant. My Blackberry was just not up to the task.

I was realizing how this was going to just be one of those vistas I will have to carry in my mind instead of share via pic when I noticed the cranberry tree standing next to me.

The spiritual moment was just moving past me so quickly...

Anyway, I'm so grateful that God can be available as soon as I drop my expectation of where he (she, it, etc.) is supposed to be.

It's lovely how that works...

Crabapples(? )

Found these lovely berries against the Colorado high altitude blue sky.

God is where you look for him...

Transitions...

I had a sponsee in the past that taught me to "...pay attention to the transitions...". The context was "in life" but I've learned that it's applicable to all facets of my awareness.

I'm aware that, in our culture and society, we've diminished many of the celebrations that we (humankind) used to celebrate major milestones and transitions in our lives. For example:

1. At our local university, less than 1/3 of the graduating class participate in commencement ceremonies
2. In most relationships (my current one included), most couples think of living together as a matter of convenience or economically driven rather than having a marriage to demarcate a commitment and change in their lives
3. We have become so nomadic in our lives that a "house warming" or other notification of moving into a community (or out of a community) is the exception rather than the norm
4. Seasonal demarcations (e.g. solstice, equinox, etc.) and holidays are not universally accepted and some that generally are (e.g. Christmas, birthdays) are sometimes hijacked by commercial interests (I'm not saying here that commercialization is a bad thing but it diverts the focus from the transition that the event is about)
   

I could go on but it just seems, as a culture, we just presume we drift from one thing to another and it should just "not be any real big deal". In fact, locally, folks that hold to the old traditions of celebrating milestones fully are seen as sort of weird.

I do the same thing - I presume that I should be able to just move, change jobs, change relationships, watch the seasons come and go, health come and go, see new life, see death, etc. - without it affecting me in any way. It's not that the neutrality that I aspire to is bad or wrong - it's that I go way past neutral to where I expect to remain asleep - numb - to changes. Small or major.

So, I think I'm supposed to "notice" the transitions. I'm supposed to tell the truth about them.

There is a sadness that I feel in the fall - death - discomfort - different types of work. Change.

I don't think I need to follow that into the quagmire of depression. But I do try to be honest about it.

In my work, I move between several (sometimes a couple dozen or more) different tasks in a day. My day works out better if I notice the completion of each task, thank God, then notice and fully give myself to the next task.

At odds with this (for me) is the whole myth (for me) of multi-tasking. I've always believed that I was really good at multi-tasking. I've often been praised for it. However, I've noticed that my life works much better, and I get more done, if I completely give myself to one task at a time.

It's an old idea that has died slowly - but, I've tried to appreciate and notice that transition as well.

Rosie...

I was asked to give a guest lead on the 12th step at a meeting the other night. It wasn't my best share (I was tired) but I got through it in about 15 minutes and, before the chair could open up the meeting, Rosie called from the back of the room. She just yelled "help!".

She was drunk, belligerant, bad attitude: "AA doesn't work", "you people" this and "you people" that. It happens.

She was fairly brief. Interrupted the next few people as they tried to share and then she left the room (2-3 folks followed her out). Not all that unique in an AA meeting. I had heard of Rosie but had not seen her in a meeting and didn't notice her when I came in (come to think of it, she might have come in after I'd started).

What caused me to think about writing an article, though, was that I got 3 different phone calls yesterday about "what should I do about Rosie?" I'm really not that wise counsel in the program that people generally call. One call was from a sponsee and the other 2 were from folks who were just calling around working out what to do with "the situation".

Rosie's life is a mess and she's actively working to burn the rest of it down. Suicide slowly.

All 3 calls basically led to the same place (for me). Help if you're able and you're heart tells you to. We all see all sorts of stories. I'm not one who believes the alcoholic has to ask for help themselves. I was lucky enough to do that but I've met dozens of folks in our program who basically were intervened with or had other experiences. One of my favorites is the guy who was beat to crap, hospitalized even, by his sponsor during his last drunk. Not my style or experience, but it worked for him. The sponsor stayed sober too...

Anyway, there may be nothing less lovely than an alcoholic in their cups.

But Rosie is a loved child of a caring God. She can find him. She never has to have that pain again.

Now, if we could just find the injection that would place that sure and certain thought in her head an soul.

...if only...

Soundtracks...

I've had the theme from Mad Men running through my head for most of the last 2-3 days. I'd already decided I was going to blog about it.

I love the show - it meets 2 of my criteria: it's a period piece and it is pretty much politically incorrect.

You see, I came to awareness in that time - at least the tail end of it. The first few times I flew, free cigarettes were passed out with the steak and lobster dinners. Their imaginative genius dealing with issues in the context of the day, racism, sexism, Vietnam, cigarettes - all of it seems to just sort of fit right.

But, that didn't give them the right to put their theme music in my head.

Then, I heard a piece on NPR from Andrei Codrescu today that was all about the way music infiltrates our consciousness.

Of course.

An allergy...

I love in the doctor's opinion when Dr. Silkworth uses the metaphor of an "allergy" to describe the phenomenon of craving that is associated with alcoholism. As the text between the short letter and the long letter in the chapter "The Doctor's Opinion" explains:

"The doctor's theory that we have an allergy to alcohol interests us. As laymen, our opinion as to its soundness may, of course, mean little. But as ex-problem drinkers, we can say that his explanation makes good sense. It explains many things for which we cannot otherwise account." BB - p. XXVI in the 4th edition

I love cantaloupe. I used to live for the time when Colorado's best cantaloupe (Rocky Ford) would come into season. About 23+ years ago, I kept getting sores on the inside of my mouth. Through a summer of noticing when the sores came back, I noticed that it corresponded to when I ate cantaloupe.

I tried cutting back (just a slice or 2) - the d--- sores came back. I really love cantaloupe but I really hated the sores. I tried just one occasionally - got sores. Gave it up completely one summer, tried one piece the next summer - got sores. Eventually, I even figured out that I could get them from a fruit cocktail - even if I didn't eat the cantaloupe pieces, the cantaloupe juice would be enough to cause sores.

I'm hear to tell you, spiritual giant that I am, I'm nearly 22 years abstinent from cantaloupe.

Writing this, I can still salivate thinking of how much I really loved that stuff - but, I've not had any consequences - no sores - for 22 years and counting.

As I was starting out with a new friend the other day and we started into the doctor's opinion in the book, I got to trot out my allergy as an explanation for why I've not experienced the phenomenon of craving for over 25 years.

Being alive and new...

I was asked to give 2 - 10 minute talks at an AA workshop this afternoon and, I tried, but the first one was 20 minutes. So sue me. I didn't see anyone get drunk over it but it still felt intimidating and frustrating.

The second talk was only about 5 minutes so I figure I got to give some back.

The high points of my day were several conversations around and about this beloved fellowship.

The last one, after coffee after my home group meeting tonight, was with a DCM of our local Spanish language district. This district is the fastest growing part of AA in our Area (Area 10 - Colorado). He has been a good friend for 7 years. We've watched him catch on to our program and seen the results in him of a spiritual transformation.

The spanish folks have a huge propensity to sit around and argue about what they should be doing.

A few weeks ago, at a district meeting they decided they had to do something different or they were all going to get into trouble.

...so, today, they decided to go from bed to bed in one of our local community detoxes (where a lot of Hispanics land) and pass out meeting cards and talk with the patients "just like Bill and Bob".

I still am choked up thinking about it.

Sleep...

I can think of few things I would rather do in life than sleep.

I know. For years I've presumed that I'm just not real creative or that I must be low on hormones or something - but, my choice of recreation at any hour on any day is probably laying down with a good book (or even a mediocre book) and drifting off to dreamland.

I used to consider myself a night owl - I would seldom be in bed before midnight. Often, I would work around the clock for days on end on an important effort before some big deal deadline.

Now, I really believe that any truly civilized culture would insist on a siesta in the flow of every day. And, my requisite waking hour (usually around 5am) would still put me in bed, ideally, before 9 every night.

I just really believe that many of the world's problems and the younger generations behavioral challenges could be explained as symptoms of sleep deprivation. We ought to have a mandatory minimum daily sleep quota. Tack it on to the Health Care Reform bill. Heck, toss the bill and just pass the Sleep rule...

Yet, when I'm living as a bachelor for a few days, I can't seem to drag myself to bed. I can't catch up on sleep and I can't make myself complete a day or go to bed either.

Sure, I've got some things to worry about - a sponsee that's drinking, relationship strife, impending financial ruination, family in turmoil, projects that are months behind schedule, friends in pain - but, what's so important to interrupt sleep over?

Nothing, I guess...

Swimming...

I don't swim.

I wish I could come up with a short, easy explanation for this fact but, well there isn't one.

When I was a very young child, I remember the public pools were closed at least one summer due to the polio scare. After they re-opened, I was summarily enrolled in the requisite summer swimming classes. I know my mother had all the best intentions. I had all the best intentions. However, when it came time to show up for classes, well, it just seemed like I couldn't get there. Those younger might not appreciate that, in a small town in northeastern Colorado, it was just de rigueur for a mom to enroll their kid and expect them to show up in the pool (in my small defense, it was about 2 miles on my bike...) and learn something.

So, she'd enroll me, I'd show up for a few classes and would be completely unteachable and unable to grasp even the most basic instruction. I'd feel bad. Then I'd find it easy to get distracted on the way to the pool. Every day. Almost every class. The only thing worse than not showing up for class was showing up for class with everyone else able to do what I couldn't. For 4-5 sets of classes over 4-5 summers. It's embarrassing to write this even now.

Fast forward to high school. Several of us are out at a local private reservoir and there is a diving raft about 30-50 yards off the beach. Being who we were, they took the keg out there and the party pretty much moved from the beach out to the raft.

I'd had a few beers before the keg left shore and I watched as everyone swam out to the raft. I watched closely. It was easy. Besides, I'd had lessons. So, I jumped in the water and started swimming toward the raft. A little better than 1/2 way out, I was going down for the 3rd time when my best friend dove out from the raft and did a classic life saving maneuver.

As he and the other guys hauled me out onto the raft, I was a lovely picture puking beer and water and gasping and wheezing. After laying out for a while, I was able to resume drinking and we all had an adventure to laugh and talk about.

Came time to leave and I again watched and saw how easy it was to swim. I'd learned my lesson. I'd had several more beers. I dove in and after going down the 4th time the same friend again saved my life and drug me to shore.

So, for years, I've just known that I don't swim. When I get into water, I sink and drown.

With notable exceptions...

We own a swimming pool (a terrible idea in Colorado) and I had to be able to jump in the pool and get to the side without drowning or I would be afraid every time I cleaned it. I still only get in it about 2-3 times a summer but the grand kids have loved it and it gives me something to either focus my meditation around or hone my skills at focused resentments, depending on how well I am any given day.

On our honeymoon trip to Hawaii in 1989, my wife and I were turned on to snorkeling. I discovered that what I've never learned about swimming could be pretty well compensated for in salt water with mask, snorkel and fins. I loved it.

We caught the SCUBA bug and, one more time, I attempted to learn to swim to pass the open water certification. That adventure ("adult" swim lessons, getting certified) deserves its own article but, for now, suffice to say that I got through the swimming test by cheating. Up until 7 years ago when we ran out of money for that sort of endeavor, we'd logged a couple of hundred dives.

Which gets us to now.

I have a former sponsee/friend who's trying to help me do some exercise to help get me into some sort of shape (another article possibility...). We were at the gym the other day when, out of the blue, he said he'd like to teach me to swim. It's been anything but lovely but I'm once again seeing if I can now be humble enough to learn something about swimming that I could not grasp when I was 6.

The other day, he was trying to teach me the frog kick. I was once again feeling the frustration of a 6 year old kid as I watched my infinitesimal progress on the wall of the pool. I decided I really needed to focus so I bowed my head and very clearly followed the movements as I visualized my friends ample instruction in my mind. It was a victory! I was in fact willing and able to learn this!

As I looked to my left, I realized that my minute of highly focused frog kick netted me about -3 feet - I was going backwards...

So far, they've managed to replace the water in the pool that I've swallowed trying to get the breathing right and I've not given up after 4 lessons. But, it's not that I'm not looking for things to distract me and drop this one more time...

Ain't life exciting?

Spent

I love my mom. I love my son.

My mother lives in a local senior housing apartment. She is happier now than I've ever known her to be at any other time of her life. As she will point out to you, if you visit with her long enough, her biggest disappointment in life is that her son doesn't visit with her often enough or stay long enough when he visits.

I try to get over there at least once a week and we spend a few hours having lunch and doing errands she accumulates through the week. I know she loves me and means well but, for those of you that have mothers, you know that there are "buttons" that are painful and, well, it can be tedious. I know that she might outlive us all but what I'm way clear about at this point in our lives is that I need to enjoy her the best I can and all that I can for today.

God has repaired our lives together in a mystical way so that I can be truly useful to her today. When making amends to her some years ago, she allowed that she just wanted me "to be happy" - so, I try to show up, once a week ,and be happy.

Friday, she will turn 88. So today we went to a small local mountain town and ate Indian food that she had a taste for and then did a short drive in the mountains.

Perfect.

My son lives in downtown Denver. We get together every week for dinner together. It's just about 2 hours of time together but since he's an hour away, it involves a good part of a Wednesday evening. I do this, in part, because of amends owed to him. As the tornado that was raging through his life up until he was about 13 years old, it's a small price I've paid for the past ~10 years.

When anyone asks my about my son, I've learned to answer "he's fine" and change the subject. If someone I don't know persists, I ask them what they know about mental illness. After that, the trajectory of the conversation will go one way or another.

So, we get together. He rants about this, that and the other thing. Threatens, yells, blusters, threatens some more...

We have dinner, an ice cream cone and then I drop him off at his apartment.

I tell him I love him and that I'm proud of him. He says the same to me.

Perfect.