You Have to Learn Their Language--Nelson Mandela on Robben Island

Last week I was a guest on the island of Nantucket, in Massachusetts. I was participating in a program called The Nantucket Project (TNP) which brings together people of differing backgrounds and points of view and creates a “container” of sorts—physical, emotional and spiritual—in which people can talk about their commonalities rather than differences.

Many of us are trying to attempt this kind of communication now—all of us who are fed up with the anger and blame and harsh judgments that we witness and experience on social media.

The Nantucket Project (TNP) is like a high-end version of Quaker meeting, or maybe, more familiar, it is like what those of us in recovery understand from conversations in our fellowship.

Several times during my four days on Nantucket I sensed that TNP was replicating the deep conversations that people in recovery have the luxury of experiencing regularly, because our traditions and guidelines help us to care about each other through our differences. And it is a gift.

One of the speakers I heard on Nantucket last week was Ndabe Mandela, the grandson of Nelson Mandela. Ndabe was a boy when he came to live with his grandfather and he began to learn the ways—both fierce and compassionate—of being in the world and being a man.

Ndabe Mandela told the audience the story of Nelson Mandela’s time as a prisoner on Robben Island. Mandela was there for 27 years in isolation--cold, hungry, aching and aging. He knew that he would be there a long time—expecting to end his life imprisoned—and had every reason and expectation to be hateful and hated.

But what Nelson Mandela did was to become fluent in the Afrikaans language, the language that his guards and captors spoke. He taught himself to speak and read and write Afrikaans, and it happened that, over time, the guards—many of them less literate than Mandela—would come to him to have him read them their letters from home and have his help in writing back to their families.

As you can imagine, when you are reading another person’s correspondence and helping them sort out their family situations, it is a very intimate experience. You quickly find your shared humanity as you discuss another person’s children or in-laws or marriage or money. Mandela quickly cared for his captors and they in turn, for him.

This was an enormous frustration for the prison managers who wanted Mandela to suffer and to feel isolation. The detail of guards surrounding Mandela had to be changed every three months because they would—each time—begin to care for the old man, and when they cared they would start to bring a little extra food, or extra blanket etc.

And so, his conditions, which were intended to be quite harsh, kept improving much to the consternation of the wardens.

What was so striking to me about this story was that change came about because Nelson Mandela learned the language of his captors.

Relationships were forever changed because he made the effort to change toward them without an expectation of them changing toward him.

The take away is this:

Wherever we have conflict in our lives, wherever we are insisting on our rightness, that is when we have to learn the other person’s language and they (any “they”) do not have to learn ours.

Do You Remember to Surrender?

I bet that you, like me, have had one of those experiences where you worry and sweat and fuss over some situation (or person) in your life and then you go to a meeting or talk to a sponsor or a recovery friend and you remember that you could have surrendered sooner. It’s that old, “I could have had a V-8!” experience.

So how do you remember to turn things over? And how can you remember that you have a Higher Power: God, Goodness, Grace, or the Group that you can rely on. I often think that having a 12-step bumper sticker on the back of the car is a terrific service to others. The driver behind you gets a jolt of remembering his/her commitment to recovery—but what about you?

Yes, in early recovery you may have (I did) piled your desk with recovery slogans and pamphlets, and little recovery mottos etc. But maybe you’d like to be a little bit more discreet now? That’s smart actually—we are maturing and no longer broadcasting our membershipJ

I love a great reminder tool a good friend taught me. I noticed that she had frog figurines and some frog

pictures in her car, desk calendar, kitchen etc. I thought it was just one of those “collector” things until she explained that her frogs were her reminders to Fully Rely On God. Yeah, F.R.O.G.

Cute? Yeah. Corny? Maybe. Discreet? Definitely. And does it work? Oh yes it does. So I have learned to keep a few frogs where I can see them. And yes—it works even if your HP is not a “God”—you still get the good reminder to take a breath, surrender and turn things over.

Recently I was buying some kid’s toys and I saw a bright green, plush Beanie Baby frog. My first reaction was “that’s cute but a bit cornball” but when I put him on my desk he immediately dropped (flopped) into a yoga pose so I knew this frog would be a perfect reminder to fully rely on my higher power, and to “move a muscle change a thought.”

And yes, he is also very playful and that’s another good reminder for my usual busy, important, serious girl self.

Step Three--Into the Abyss

In Step Three we turn our lives over to something that is bigger than us--something that we don’t control. For some of us that might be a pretty traditional god—an anthropomorphized “He”, and for others the Higher Power is an “it” or an idea. The central idea of the Third Step is that we surrender to this bigger being or concept, we remove our hands and we take a leap of faith.

Over the years when taking the Third Step has again become hard for me, and for me Step Three is always an “again” process, I will get out my copy of the movie “Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade” starring Harrison Ford and I cue it up to watch the final twenty minutes of the film.

You may remember this film and how near the end of the movie, when Harrison Ford as “Indiana Jones” is nearly at the place of the Holy Grail he faces a wide crevasse that is impossible to jump across. The cave of the Holy Grail is on the other side of this wide, precipitous gulf and Jones has to get across to save Sean Connery, who plays Ford’s father.

Ford/Indiana stands on the edge of the great crevasse and he looks completely stricken. He looks across, and then he looks down. To step out into this vast nothingness is certain death.

And then—and this is the part that I love--he says, “Oh shit” and then he steps into pure emptiness. As Ford prepares to drop through space the invisible bridge appears under his foot.

Step Three is always inspiring after the bridge appears. But it is also typically an “Oh shit” moment just before that happens.

I need lots of reminders about the Third Step and surrender. It’s one of the reasons that I still go to meetings. I need repetition. There are some recovery insights that seem so brilliant and obvious that I’m sure, “I’ll never forget that!” Those turn out to be the very things that I have to hear –and experience--again and again.

One of the ways that I remind myself is with a little card I keep on my desk that says, “I made a Decision—not a feeling—to turn my will and my life over to God.” That helps me to remember that I don’t have to feel good when I surrender. If a good feeling is meant to be it will appear like Indiana Jones’ bridge—after I step into the void. 

Surrender, Diane

We never really do it once. Though, when I was younger in recovery I so wanted that to be true, and I hung on every word of the old-timers who said they took the Third Step once and from then on it was all…

Well, it was all what? Many of those old timers were smoking and overeating and grouchy. But not all. There were also those people in AA and in Alanon who did have some kind of continual peace or perspective that left them more or less sane. I still want that.

I raised my hand today in my home group and asked for the topic of “Real Surrender” by which I mean the kind that comes from deep, deep down. Often that’s the kind that comes when I body slam into the wall of my own insistence and control. Over the years it has helped me to remind myself, “Surrender when you see the wall coming.” We do not always have to hit the wall first.

I’m feeling it now cause I’m heading out for a week of writing. Insecure writing. Shaky writing. Writing I care deeply about. Writing that has my heart all tied up in it. And yes, writing for which I have a certain outcome in mind. Ugh. Let go, let go, let go. But still.

So here’s my practice and it comes from Julia Cameron --who is no relation except in the ancient Celtic underground—She says in her wonderful classic, “The Artist’s Way”: “You take care of the quantity and God will take care of the quality.” And then, though she doesn’t actually say it, “That’s that.”

Surrender the Person

I’ve always included teachings from The Course in Miracles as part of my recovery. “The Course” was one of my baby steps toward healing even before I discovered the 12 step rooms. I’ve especially liked some teachings from Marianne Williamson.

Recently I picked up one of her books and read this guidance on getting through the emotions surrounding a difficult person or situation. Marianne suggests this prayer:

“Dear God, I am (scared, sad, mad, hurt, ___) about (name the situation). I place everything that happened, all of these people, and ALL of my feelings about it, in your hands. Please help me to see this differently. Amen”

Repeat as needed.

That prayer is not far from the two-week prayer we know from the story, “Freedom from Bondage” in the Big Book, but I like having the fill-in-the-blank formula. It comes in handy when I am really steamed or if I know I have lost all perspective. I think I’m going to keep Williamson’s prayer on a card in my wallet right next to my emergency contact info.

Come to think of it, that is my emergency contact info.

Prayer and More Prayer

Yesterday I had this observation: One of the women that I sponsor is struggling and I thought, “She needs more prayer.” Things are not going her way, and she’s mad. I thought, “OK, how do I explain to her that it’s going to be a lot easier to surrender sooner rather than later.” Then I thought, “OK Diane, can you take your own advice?”

Note to me: More prayer.

It seems so obvious, but now I also know why the “Twelve and Twelve” says, “We should not be lax on this matter of prayer”. It is like that old juice commercial that reminds, “I could have had a V-8”. So often after struggling, musing, wondering and making myself miserable trying to control something, I think, “I could have prayed-or maybe-- prayed sooner.

Put prayer first.

Yesterday I had a cranky day. Not quite relaxed, not quite working, slightly bored even though there was plenty to do; it was just an off day. When I did my 10^th step at night I realized that I’d skipped my morning prayer time, and from there my day was just unsettled. Note to me: Put prayer first.

Gratitude and Compassion.

I read this ages ago, and I keep a sticky note in my planner that says, “Pray for a grateful heart and a compassionate heart”. It’s a great piece of guidance and an all-purpose solution to things that bother me. Gratitude shifts my attitude. Gratitude reminds me of the good. Gratitude shows me that there is growth, change and recovery in my life when my feelings try to convince me otherwise.

A compassionate heart softens me. Compassion helps me to see that other people- (even people who I think are bad or wrong)—are mostly broken or troubled. And often they are broken or troubled I ways that I am too, or that I have been. Having a compassionate heart slows me down. I am more inclined to practice “restraint of tongue and pen” when I have a compassionate heart.

But to get there: More prayer.

Years ago I thought that people who had years of recovery must be doing all the right things, all the time. But I don’t, we don’t. But we do have a couple of things that come with time. One is good recovery habits. So I pray each morning and I do a 10th step at night that closes with a prayer. If I skip either one I feel crummy; it’s kind of like not brushing my teeth. So even if I’m rushed or even not feeling very sincere I’ll get on my knees and read the Third Step Prayer. I say the words out loud. Even if done without complete sincerity, it helps.

The other thing people with long recovery have are stories. We have our own stories yes, but even better; we have other people’s stories too. If you go to meetings for years you accumulate stories. So when times are hard I can lean into someone else’s story. I can recall what they said about the time they prayed; the time they yelled at God, the time a prayer was answered in a miraculous way; the time they let go of what they wanted and got something better instead. 

And each time the reminder to me is this: Prayer and more prayer.

Taking My Own Advice

Here is the hard part: Taking my own advice. Last night I spoke at a women's wellness event and with sincerity I spoke about stopping the mental to-do list, and the self-shaming, and the craziness of trying to balance your life.

And this morning I wake up obsessed with the many things that are undone, that "should" be different, the people who are not happy or who might be happier if I only did....(fill in the blank). I open the morning paper and I read the obituaries--(I have read them all of my life--they are the best mini memoirs), and I see people close to my age. I think again, "Whose life is this?" and "What do I really want?"

But it's hard to take my own advice. It's hard to let go. It's hard to detach. And it's hard to live with other people unhappy with me. But it's much harder to live unhappy with myself.

This is why, after many years of recovery, I still need three meetings a week, a sponsor, the "other" program, and women who really do live the way that I am trying to. I need lots of examples and reminders. And on days like this I need hourly contact with a Higher Power to whom I can surrender my life.

Who's in Charge of My Life?

I overheard this at a meeting last week. It made me think.

"If God is your co-pilot slide over."

Surrender the Person

Here is a useful prayer for the post-Thanksgiving week. I learned this from Marianne Williamson who writes about practical applications of The Course in Miracles. One of my favorite quotes from  Williamson is a perfect reminder of our Step Three: “What is placed on the alter is altered.”

Here’s the format of her surrender prayer:

“Dear God, I am (mad, sad, upset, hurt about…) this person (name names). I place everything that happened, all that I fear might happen, this person, all of these people, and all of my feelings about this in your hands. Please help me to see if differently. Amen.”

Repeat as often as needed.

It’s not a prayer for magic or a prayer to make anyone right or wrong. It’s spiritual first-aid, “Take this.” And it is a prayer that I will be changed and that my perspective be altered.

Beach Surrender

We went to the beach this weekend. I go alone in the morning to pray, writing the names of each person on the edge of the shore and watching to see the water come up and take the prayer away.

This weekend I wrote the names of all of our family members his and mine, spouses and kids, siblings also. I wrote his name and my name and I wrote my workplace too. I live in the gap between wanting to make a complete surrender, making that surrender for an instant or a moment and then, seeing, even as I walk aback to my car fear returns and my wish to control something or someone is already back in my head.

Surrender is such an imperfect process but I do think it is a process. I really do wonder about people who say they have done it and it’s done. Do they really never worry again? Worry means I still think I can affect an outcome. Curiosity might be the antithesis of worry. Being able after surrender, to wonder: “I wonder how God is going to play this one out?”

These are the things I surrender and later worry: His health, our relationship, his family, having time together, my health, money, my job, my stepdaughter, my granddaughter, his sons, my ex-husband, his ex-wife.

Maybe this worry of mine too is something I need to surrender.

Over and over I surrender and return to these things.

The ocean’s rhythm is familiar; in and out, in and out, washing, soothing, wearing me down.

Surrender

This morning, once again, I read in my daily meditation book about surrender. And I think, yes, that’s it. Surrender. On another page in another book I read that one becomes a true servant of God by, yes, surrendering. And I think, yes, I do that. And then right there for that tiny hair’s breadth moment I think, I don’t really surrender do I? I say the words. I may even have the intention. But do I put it all—yes all—in God’s hands and then go live my life? Well, no. So I tried again this time naming the things, people, relationships, concerns, worries that I want help with or that scare me. And I say out loud, “I am turning these over to you; I do not know what is right. Help me.”

Now it is the end of this day and it has been a decent day. A better day. Will all the things I listed turn out fine? Will he love me and she like me and they not blame me and enough money come to support the small nonprofit where I work? I don’t know. But I like surrender better than not surrendering. That’s a start.