Running Yellow Lights

Last week I heard this great line: “Running yellow lights is not accepting life on life’s terms.” It’s so funny—and perfectly true.

It got me thinking about all the ways that Twelve-step recovery is trying, trying, trying to teach us how to live life as it is—and on its terms –both to limit our own pain, and the pain

we inflict on others.

Think about our sayings and slogans: One Day at a Time, Be Here Now and 

“Look down at your feet and stay where they are”.

I think about all the kinds of discomfort that I struggle with, and how much it’s almost always because I want to be somewhere other than right here where I am. Yesterday I had to walk several blocks from my office to another business location and I realized that the whole time I was walking that I wanted to be a block ahead of where I was. Even though it was a beautiful day I wanted to be there rather than here.

And, of course as soon as I got there, I wanted the next there not the here. I heard my mind doing this—and I realized it’s a constant state of mind. 

And its not just when I am walking. It’s also when I’m driving: When I stop at an intersection I want to be on the other side of it, not on this side. When I read a book I want to know what going to happen instead of enjoying what the writer is showing me now. When I am listening to a CD I want to be on the next track or the next disc—not this one. No matter the form or place or idea, I want to be there. But when I get there I’m not really there at all; I’m still longing for the next there. 

I do this with things too. I can long for a pair of new boots or handbag or coat, but shockingly soon after I get it, I’m thinking about some other thing that I imagine I’ll like a lot. That thing will be the next right thing. It’s just another way of trying to get there instead of fully experiencing being here.

As active addicts we were all about grasping and craving and clinging, and now in recovery we have softened our behavior and changed our medium. But still. When I drive through an intersection and think, “Here I go,” or when I want to be over there and not here, or when I want a different dress or purse or necklace--I’m not living life on life’s terms.

Maybe, just maybe, I could let that next yellow light be my clear signal.

On New Year's Day

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
     to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something
     unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
     that it is made by passing through
     some stages of instability—
     and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
     your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
     let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
     as though you could be today what time
     (that is to say, grace and circumstances
     acting on your own good will)
     will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
     gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
     that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
     in suspense and incomplete.

—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ

April is Poetry Month: Ithaca

You have heard this poem or excerpts from it. It was one of Jacqueline Kennedy's favorite poems and it was read at her funeral. A few years ago I re-read it and it hit me that this is also a poem for people in recovery. It is about a journey and it is about the treasure of living life on life's terms. Please enjoy "Ithaca" by Constantine Cavafy.

Ithaca

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)

Beginner's Mind --Patience and Humility --Click!

I’m learning to use my new computer. Not just new but my first Apple. She is so pretty and slim and graceful and she’s making me crazy. (Has to be a girl right? Everyone keeps telling me how intuitive she is.) I know that day will come, but today I am reminding myself of “beginners mind” and “being teachable”. I knew that I would have to let go of old habits and give up my right hand reaching for the phantom mouse, and I knew I’d have to play and experiment, but I forgot that it would also feel frustrating and awkward. A lot like being in a new relationship—minus the good sex.

I already see my control issues, my insistence on having things my way and oh, the perfectionism! I want to know how to use it already. (I want to be loved now—today). But I don’t and can’t until I play, experiment and oh yeah, go to school. So I went for some tutoring in Apple Land tonight.

So a new commitment to my newest relationship: to be gentle and kind and to laugh and to trust that intuition will prevail and that my sweet new Apple and I will bond.

Longer is Harder

One of the hardest things in long-term recovery is when you can’t quite get to where you really want to be. I’m talking about beliefs and behaviors. Finding myself saying or doing something that isn’t in line with who I want to be and who I know I could be or who I probably will be. Soon, I hope.

When I do something now that I don’t like it seems harder to accept because there is no one to blame. Blame is so over. I have too much program in my head and in my being that even when I want to blame or try to blame I get it. I know. But there is also no fallback position in later recovery like, “I won’t do that after I have a year of sobriety” or “After I work the steps then I won’t be like that anymore.” Nope. There is just me, my head and patience.

The good news is being able to visualize and imagine what a new behavior would look like, what my changed belief might sound like and how much more peaceful my life would be. But this too is humility. Patience. Progress. Not perfection.

Whack-a-Mole Ego

Just when I think I have it right it pops up again. The past few weeks in my new job my mantra has been, “Keep my ego out of it.” I’m paying attention to how many times in a day I need to be important or special or noticed or smart or good—yes, even good. Sometimes I talk to myself like a little puppy, “OK, ego down, ego down.” Oh my, the training required.

And then just as I am thinking, “My, aren’t I good at this no-ego, humble thing, it hits me: That’s ego too. I catch it here and it pops up there, I get that ego moment to soften and notice another place where little ego is waving its hand like a third grader who has the answer.

Ah, I think good intention and gentleness are required here. My ego is a little puppy, third-grader, hoping the teacher, and mommy and the person with the treats will see Me! Me! Me!

Uncomfortable Feelings

Today I’m remembering something that my first sponsor used to say to me when I would tell her how hard it was to go through my day with all kinds of uncomfortable feelings coursing through me.

She’d say, “Yes, those are very uncomfortable feelings, and they are simply that:

Feelings, and uncomfortable.

No Crystal Ball

My meditation book this morning quotes from Psalm 119: 105: “Your word is like a lamp for my feet and a light for my path.”

It hit me: A light for one step at a time, not a crystal ball to show the entire future.

Dang! I would so much prefer the crystal ball or one of those bright sweeping spotlights that show everything. But the promise is a lamp.

It reminds me of the advice to writers from Robert Frost. He said: It’s very hard to drive in fog when you can only see as far as your headlights. But in fact you can drive a very long way and you can get home if you simply proceed to drive looking at only the road your headlights reveal.

Writing too.

Life too.

The Marshmellow Test

In this week’s New Yorker is an article about Stanford Child Development research that looks at the ability to delay gratification. Children ages 4 and 5 were invited into a room and shown a tray with candy treats including a marshmallow. Asked to choose a treat the children were told that they could have one or if they could wait a few minutes they could have two. The researcher leaves the room but a camera follows the children’s actions.

Some children pop the marshmallow right into their mouth. Some stare at it and sit on their hands until the man returns but others cover their eyes or play under the desk until the researcher reenters and they can have the two treats.

At first researchers thought they were looking at desire but then realized that all the children wanted the treat. But some were able to wait. They could hold on or hold out so that they could have more by delaying gratification. The key the researchers discovered was whether these tots could manage their thinking. The ones who stared at the marshmallow typically could not resist but those who covered their eyes or hid under the table, or sang songs to themselves were able to wait—and benefit from the waiting.

The discovery was that some kids understood how to distract themselves so that they could delay gratification.

We talk about alcoholics as being unable to delay desire and its true, but again we see the wisdom of AA in the ways that we—adults yes, but not unlike the little kids—can be taught to not stare at the rink, to shift our focus, to distract our selves from our desires. We learn to “think through the drink” and to “change people places and things”.

I love imagining my constant desires—for shoes, food, comfort, whatever as the marshmallow test. Can I cover my eyes? Sing a song? Distract myself by calling another alcoholic? So that I can wait to enjoy my treat!