humility

Guest post: Grace, compassion and the stink of the soul — part one

Last Sunday, I chaired a local AA meeting. Compassion and grace were chosen as the topics. Faced with seventy souls, some of whom were actually listening, I let loose my truth. Heads nodded, faces contorted, uncomfortable grunts plunked into the air like a chunk of cheese was being coughed up. Judgement of all kinds was exercised.

Among the truths and experiences described was the ability for active alcoholics being able to find each other at large gatherings. I am of the opinion that, in a group of 100 people, where only two substance abusers are in attendance, they will be attracted to each other like magnets. Somehow we know each other—hidden in plain sight, we seem to be able to sniff each other out.

In this context, during the meeting, I discussed the stench that an alcoholic’s pores emit the day after a binge. Teeth can be brushed, a shower can be taken, extensive grooming can have taken place, but still the stench emanates from every pore and fills the room.

Given the fact that alcoholism is as much about a mind compromised by a disease as it is about the substance, it occurred to me spontaneously, during the meeting, that the attraction of alcoholics to one another is based on our ability to smell the stench of a toxic disease leaving the pores of a peer’s soul.

How does this relate to grace and compassion? Read part two next week.

This has been a guest post by Michael D.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

I Am Responsible

I do a lot of driving. 40,000 miles a year or so. So I get to watch a lot of things on the road. One of the things that I see is a lot of trash. Our trash. I know it is our trash, because I see us throwing it out of our car windows.

Why does anyone think that it is ok to do that?

And it isn’t just in cars, either. I walk my dog a lot, too. Not 40,000 miles a year, but a lot of miles. And the cigarette smokers on my street don’t seem to mind leaving their cigarette butts on the street.

I don’t care whether something is biodegradable or not. Here is my rule of thumb- if I won’t throw it on my kitchen floor, I won’t throw it on the street.

What’s so difficult to understand about that?

I am reading a lot right now about the Bill of Rights. People are complaining about Their Rights. I don’t hear people talking so much about their responsibilities.

So let me talk about my responsibilities.

I am a husband. I married my best friend. When we got married, my wife and I took a set of vows. Those vows included statements like “til death do us part”, and “in sickness and in health”. I learned that she meant those vows when she took them. She still means them.

So do I.

I read someplace that the sign of a really good marriage is when both partners feel like they got the better end of the deal. Trust me, I got the better end of the deal. If you know both of us, you know that to be true.

That means if she asks me to do something, I do it. We try to divide all of the chores and tasks. She takes care of food shopping and bills, so I take care of the cars and trash. It’s mundane stuff, but we take care of it, so that we can take care of each other, and ourselves.

My hope is that we get to spend the rest of our lives together, hopefully in good health. It means forever. And it also means a lot of Golden Rule stuff at home.

I am a father of two beautiful young women. Very expensive, but very beautiful.

I made a couple of promises when they were born. Something along the lines of “God, if you just get us through this delivery safe and sound, I promise I will take care of this little urchin the best that I can, for as long as I can”.

So my end of the bargain is that I think I am supposed to take care of these little urchins. That means I deal with iPhones dropped in the toilet, and iPhones dropped off of third story ledges. It means volleyball tuition and college tuition. It means that one bathroom looks like a cosmetics factory. It means 6000 diapers apiece, and all the Father-Daughter Dances I can attend.

It means that if either of them is so motivated to have a dog that they create a Powerpoint presentation entitled “Why We Should Have A Dog”, then……

I have a dog. Although it would be more accurate to say that our dog has a family. That means hundreds of night-time walks in the snow and the cold, when I don’t want to go outside. It means cleaning up dog poop, and licenses, and vaccinations, and all of the responsibilities I would want someone else to take care of, if I was him. It means baths and brushing and toys and playtime and all of the stuff he needs us to do.

I am a family member. That means that I am supposed to participate in my family. I am supposed to show up, anytime, anywhere that I am asked. It means weddings, Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, Communions and Baptisms, Passovers and Christmas Eve’s (it’s complicated). It means birthday parties and wakes and funerals and all of the stuff that goes on with people that I love and care about.

It means that not only do I show up….it means that I try to show up with a smile.

And maybe even shave.

I am an employee. I have a job. A company pays me to work. That means that I am supposed to work. If possible, I am supposed to do such good work, that my company thinks that they got the better end of the deal.

I should show up every day. Every day. No “calling out sick”.

I should remember how insanely lucky I am to have this gig, or any gig at all. I am insanely lucky that I get paid to do interesting, important work, with interesting and incredibly intelligent people. There are some days I can’t believe that anyone pays me to do this. I need to act that way every day.

I work with other people. Really nice people, by the way. That means I am supposed to work well with them. I should try to treat them with dignity and respect, the same way that they treat me.

I should ask about their families, and their dogs and cats. I should ask about their vacations, and their holidays, and their traditions.

I am a taxpayer. You may not like what I have to say here.

I pay a lot of taxes. My wife and I make a lot of money, so we pay a lot of taxes. More than six figures a year. By the end of our working lives, we will pay millions of dollars in taxes.

And I would be glad to pay even more.

You know why I would be glad to pay more? Because I live in a time and a place where a poor kid from Philadelphia can receive a great education (both the kind you get in school, and the kind you get at the kitchen table), and grow up to be incredibly lucky. I am safe and well fed and educated and gainfully employed.

I use public roads, public water, public sewer, public electricity, public telephone systems, public gas works. I am the beneficiary of a lot of infrastructure that is freely, or inexpensively, available to me.

My children attend(ed) public schools. Great schools. The best schools in the nation. The real estate taxes that we pay to support those schools is a bargain. If you doubled my real estate taxes to pay for these schools, I would not complain. It’s a bargain.

In a time and a place where it is fashionable to complain about high taxes, let me be provocative.

I’m willing to pay more.

I am a citizen. That means that I should participate. I vote, every time. I try to stay informed. When I know someone who is running for office, I support them. I read. I communicate with like-minded citizens.

The people in my community who hold elected office do so out of their love for their community. Some of the jobs are totally volunteer. I applaud them for that. Our lives are better for their service.

I have the opportunity to leave this country 5-10 times a year, for work and for pleasure. Every time I leave, I learn a little bit more how lucky I am to live here. I may complain a lot- but I am lucky to be here.

I am a homeowner and a community member. That means that I should take care of my home, and my community. My lawn should be mowed, my snow should be shoveled. My trash should go into the special trash cans that we are supposed to use. I apply for permits for the work that I am supposed to apply for.

When someone organizes something in our community, I try to participate. That means candy on Halloween, and putting up luminaries on Christmas Eve.

I am a member of several service organizations. That means that I should help. When someone reaches out for help, I do my best to do what is needed. That involves attending meetings, and taking notes, and making telephone calls, and serving meals, and donating money.

These are organizations that helped me, helped my profession and my community, and helped people I know. It is the least that I can do to repay the favor.

I have a body. That means that I should try to take care of it. That means eating right, and lots of exercise, and plenty of rest. I’m a vegetarian, and I exercise rigorously at least 4 times a week. No less than 6 hours of sleep a night, and a couple of times a week I need 8 hours of sleep. I don’t apologize for that.

I need to take care of my body if I am going to be responsible for all of the other responsibilities I have.

We have an expression in our culture, “What’s In It For Me?” In short, “WIIFM”. I’ve used it.

As I grow older, I’ve started asking a different question: What Is Expected Of Me? Or “WIEOM”.

It’s the difference between the Bill of Rights and The Bill of Responsibilities.

It’s the difference between selfishness and selflessness.

What is expected of me? A couple of quotes provide good answers. In Luke 12:48: “For unto whoever much is given, of him shall be much required.” Much has been given to me, and I think it is time that much should be required of me. As someone I know used to say, “I am reporting for duty!”

I have a responsibility to provide for my family, my community, my country and my workplace. I am grateful for that responsibility. I know people who don’t have those responsibilities, and they wish that they did.

What is expected of me?

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

Who are you?

Who Are You?

Where Are You?

How Are You?

Those words were printed on the inner liner notes of the Grateful Dead’s 1971 album of the same name.

They added a mailing address, and asked their fans, known as DeadHeads, to write to them. The Grateful Dead opened a line of communication with those three questions. No band had ever tried to do that before. It was revolutionary.

Thousands of DeadHeads responded. The Grateful Dead took those names, and created a mailing list. The band used that list for 50 years as a way of staying in touch with its fans.

Please allow me to ask you the same three questions:

Who Are You?

Where Are You?

How Are You?

And in addition, I have a few more questions for you:

Do you like what we are doing here at The Recovering Urchin?

What should I be writing about?

What can I do to help support your recovery?

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

I attended a meeting today where people were talking about humility. In the book 12 Steps and 12 Traditions, in the chapter on Step Seven, the author (Bill W.) writes about humility, and provides a good definition: “the basic ingredient of humility, a desire to seek and do God’s will”….I would like to say that I always have the desire to seek and do God’s will, but sometimes I find myself thinking much more about seeking and doing my will.

Humility is one of those things that I struggle with. I know that I am struggling with it when I say something snarky like “Do you have any idea who I am?!”

I am lucky enough to live in a prosperous place. I am blessed. I know that, most of the time. But every once in a while, I see someone driving a status symbol car, or I drive by a status symbol mansion, and I think “what is wrong with me?”

The truth is that there is nothing wrong with me. A Ferrari or a mansion won’t make me any better of a person than I already am, and not having those possessions doesn’t make me any worse, either.

But for some reason, I notice status symbols more than most of my friends. When I get on an airplane (a frequent occurrence in my life), I notice who gets to turn left and go into business class. Then I spend some time feeling “less than”. I forget that I am lucky enough to be on that plane, healthy enough to walk onto that plane, and free to go wherever I want, whenever I want. So who cares if I have to sit in the back of the plane?

My sponsor used to say “compare self to self”. He meant that I should try not to compare myself to other people, because I will always find a way to make myself feel less than I should.

Early in my sobriety, he shared the following prayer with me:

“I am no more than I am

I am no less than I am

I am the I am that I am

And AA teaches me to be

the I am that I am”

I pray today to be the best I am that I can be.

With Love,

The Recovering Urchin

I Don’t Know

Once a month I get a haircut. The woman who cuts my hair (let’s call her “G”) likes to say “you know nothing”.

(In the interest of full disclosure, G is married to my sponsor, and is in recovery herself). She shares with me something that her sponsor shared with her- “you know nothing!”. I thought that was so harsh the first time I heard it. It turns out that she was right.

When I am in the moment, I convince myself that I know what is best for me. But my experience teaches me otherwise. I’ll give you an example. I was interviewing for a job about a year ago. I thought I was the best candidate, but I didn’t get the job. I was devastated.

A couple of months ago, that company was on CNN, for some really bad stuff. I’m glad I didn’t get the job.

Last year, I was certain that I wanted that job. Now I’m delighted that I didn’t get it.

Sometimes I don’t know what is best for me.

As G likes to say, I know nothing.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

I Need Help

I heard someone say at a meeting that three of the most spiritual things she had learned
were:

I need help
I was wrong
I don’t know

I certainly need help. I need help staying sober. I have had that demonstrated to me again and again. At the end of my active alcoholism, I tried to quit drinking, once and for all (I mean it this time!) four different times. Four different times I stopped temporarily.

The first time I stopped, I lasted about a week. The last time I stopped, I couldn’t make it through 24 hours. When I was finally introduced to Alcoholics Anonymous, a gentleman shared his story, and explained to me what worked for him (the Twelve Steps). He also explained to me that he attended AA meetings frequently, and that meeting attendance helped him to stay sober.

I listened to him, I followed his advice, and I haven’t had a drink or a drug since that date. That was May 2, 1990.

Frequent attendance at AA meetings helps me to stay sober. I need the experience, strength and hope that I find at every AA meeting.

I need help with more than only the “not drinking”. I need help and direction in how I live my life. I wrote an essay entitled “Role Models”. I have four role models, and they show me how to live through their actions. They show me how to be the best father, husband, son, employee, and member of AA that I can be. They show me because they are the best parents, spouses, employees, and sober people that I know.

They truly are role models.

When I was young, I remember saying “I can do it myself”. That may have been an acceptable strategy when I was a toddler, but it doesn’t work for me anymore. I have no problem asking for help with car maintenace, lawn mowing, income tax preparation, or medical advice. But for some reason, I sometimes think it is a good idea to “go it alone” on really important things. In the book Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, there is a passage that states “It is worth noting that people of very high spiritual development almost always insist on checking with friends or spiritual advisers the guidance they feel they have received from God”.

If people of very high spiritual development can ask for help, why can’t I?

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

I Was Wrong

I recently heard someone say at a meeting “I reserve the right to be wrong”. On the same day, I saw a bumper sticker that said “Don’t believe everything that you think”.

In recovery, I have learned how to make mistakes, and how to admit that I am wrong. One of my favorite bits of wisdom is the part of Step 10 that says “…and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it”.

I don’t fight well. When I get into a heated disagreement at home (it happens sometimes), I retreat and stop communicating with anyone. I isolate, and refuse to talk. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes a day or more.

I am wrong when I do this. I know it.

We have a thing that we do in my home. We try to make peace with a symbolic gesture. Remember ET in the movie of the same name? Remember when he sticks his finger out? We do the same thing, and we say “Peace?” Extending our finger out and saying “Peace?” is our symbolic peace offering.

I know that probably sounds weird, but it works.

One of my challenges in “making peace” is that I convince myself that I am right. I justify my actions by convincing myself how right I am. My sponsor asks me “would you rather be right, or would you rather be happy?”

As I write this, I would rather be happy. But when I get in that weird space, sometimes I convince myself that I would rather be right.

Being wrong is one of the greatest gifts I have received in recovery. Being wrong allows me to change direction, and try something else. Being wrong allows me to apologize, and take responsibility for my actions. Being wrong allows me to make peace with those I have harmed.

I used to think that being wrong was one of the worst things that I could admit. Now I think that it is one of the best things I can admit.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin