The Turning Point--JF's weblog

RECOVERY

2012-01-17T15:14:00.000-08:00

Steps on the grounds of a leading A& D treatment center on English Mountain in the Smokies.

A great reminder to all of us in recovery that in in order to climb out of our addition we must use these steps daily.

.

Imperfect Spirituality

2012-01-10T05:04:00.000-08:00

I'm giving a workshop presentation in a few weeks. The emphasis will be on Imperfect Spirituality or Spirituality of Imperfection; the premise that it's through our flaws that we grow spiritually. It's a spiritual journey taken step by step on human feet.

By embracing and living through our flaws ("character defects and shortcomings") we become whole. Granted wholeness is not a destination, it's a process, a one-day-at-a-time journey into wholeness. As Yogi Berra said, "it's not over till it's over."

It's a journey not undertaken alone although we alone can not do it alone. We need others. Bill Wilson and Bob Wilson started it all with their first meeting. Bill would later identify that meeting in Akron in 1935 as the critical link in AA and is quoted as saying "I came to the realization that "I needed him and he needed me."

I also know that embarking on and continuing on this journey requires the grace of my Higher Power. It wasn't until I pleaded with God to help me that I picked up the phone and called for help. I had no idea that I was taken the first step on a spiritual journey: hell I was hopeless and helpless on the brink of losing everything and I just wanted to save my ass.

Why that day of all days did I call for help, when there were many times before that I should have called? I have come to understand that it was the grace of God working in and for me. I also understand that although the grace of God is paramount I need another human being, another flawed person(s) to identify with.

The freedom and the courage to embark and continue on this High-way of sobriety comes from not only identifying with another alcoholic but that it's "through forgiving him/her I can forgive my self. It's the old adage, "if he can do it, I can do it."

Approaching fifty years I can share with you that there were many days my feet of clay wanted (wants) to run away. To escape the pain of facing "life on life's terms" but it's the grace/love of my Higher Power and the support/love of others that soothes that pain, shores me up and turns me around.

Thanks to all of you

Jim

What Will It Be......or not?

2011-11-28T11:38:00.000-08:00

Good friends, friends who know our warts and still love us to pieces.

Friends, closer than family, who

I suspect know us better than ourselves

after all they’ve got a ring side seat to all our antics; only thing missing is the popcorn

Why am I concerned with what they think or for that matter what I think?

God knows, and yet continues to include me in Creation.

Am I a critical and unique link in the whole scheme of things or just a metaphor.

Are my worst mistakes my best contributions or is it those times

when I scored myself a perfect ten?

How much and in what way does my laughter and

my tears contribute one iota to anything..

Am I part of the spit that keeps everything together?

Or am I a particle of tension keeping everything from colliding.

What is it?

Am I this or that or…am I this and that?

My bumbling speech? My misspoken and mistaken word?

My gravity dragging actions?

Is it in spite of them or because of them?

Is it my experiences stacked high with age or is it my ignorance of tomorrow?

After three quarters of a century under my belt are

the few remaining years to contain my main event?

Will I recognize it or will it be like so many others in the past

just another day at the office?

Will I participate or sit idly by?

Will I sit on my comfortable old ass or get up and take the risk?

God what ever is your will use my love hungry heart, my memory filled mind and my love –to-tell-a-story tongue as instruments of Your love and Your peace.

Jim

God's Network

2011-11-15T06:30:00.000-08:00

Attended a truly joyful “Old Timers,” dinner and meeting last night. Everybody with over twenty-five years of sobriety was counted as an old timer. I have forty-nine and was the oldest in the room. Our town’s oldest, a wonderful woman and an icon with 56 years couldn’t make it.

Seemed overcrowded with alki(s). As I looked over the crowd I thought, “ damn there are a lot of old guys and gals here; a hundred of us. What a diverse and strange group. We all looked anonymous, couldn’t pick us out in a crowd unless you were one of us.”

Wish I could have taken pictures. People, standing around hugging, laughing, talking while juggling and eating off paper plates with a plastic fork in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. If you’re counting it would appear that they needed three hands. That’s what was so weird about it. It came off without any major food spills. Guess that happens when the love in the room overcome gravity.

Asked to speak (oldest) I threw away what I planned on saying and attempted to make out a list of all the wonderful loving mentors God had placed in my life over the fifty years (I had an up and down year prior to my sobriety date.) The list went on and on until I stopped, remembering the chairperson had asked me to keep it short.

Looking out over the audience as I took the podium I remember David C. and David G.. The bond between us was formed in sharing our strength and love with each other in our grief at “losing sons” the same year (2005). Since we worked together (I’m sure God had arranged it and really strange circumstances brought us together) we were a daily support to each other and we needed it. I paid tribute to a lot of my sponsors, finished the talk in the appointed time without mentioning either David and left the podium.

The next day I answered my cell. It was David C. on the line. He was in Charlotte NC, alone, attending a conference but was bubbling over. He had been reading my book “Joyous & Free In Spite of Myself.” He was beside himself with identifying with my story, the issues and the voices. He had also met a young man, new to the program, at the AA meeting the night before. He said, “you were there with us. We were one, the three of us. It was truly a “bonus” meeting.”

However what he was excited about was what he called the most amazing part of the evening and the frosting on the cake. Later and alone after his “bonus meeting” he checked his phone. Much to his surprise he heard my voice, apparently I was at the podium and he was hearing my “talk”. Evidently as I walked up to the stage I had mistakenly hit a redial or something instead of the silence button.

Jim

God's Artwork & Bush's Beans

2011-10-28T06:51:00.000-07:00

Been having a high ole time here in the Smokies. Here on business really: a three- day board meeting.

To break the tedium of the meetings we got into our cars and went to Bush’s Beans, home (home, factory, restaurant, museum and country store) of the famous Bush Beans and their dog Mike for lunch. Of course they had cute little doggie pillows and a bunch of hand crafted “pick’n” instruments make with “guitar strings” on a slat of hand-fashioned mountain wood screwed into a Bush’s bean can.

They also had the customary ole-timey items “for sale” and clerks dressed in their frontier 19the century calico dresses and head gear.

If this wasn’t exciting enough we topped it all off going to Clint’s home spun country and antique choked (over done, they must have made midnight raid on a Cracker Barrel) BBQ restaurant for dinner.

The restaurant was bedecked with a life sized picture of the patron saint of Gatlinburg and the Smokies, Ms. Dolly Parton with her piled high blond hair and famous tooters. Of course Clint a grinn’n ear to ear was in the picture with Dolly. Both with the look of kindred country spirits.

Side note on Clint. Clint was rotund and white bearded like a classic Santa Clause. Mr. C worn a droopy mountain hat and overalls in the evenings but not while operating his rug cleaning business during the day.

A man of many homespun talents he also had his own gospel singing band that performed nightly in his picnic- benched tourist-filled BBQ emporium. Well perhaps not nightly due to his faithfulness in attending services at his church in the valley.

On the way home after all the excitement I was happy not to encounter a stray deer intent on tangling with my windshield nor a black bear homesteading in the middle of my pitch-dark narrow switch-back mountain roadway.

I’m just grateful I’m snug in my room and will be returning to my home turf tomorrow filled up to my eyebrows in country-mountain culture and charm.

May God forgive me if you think I’m making fun or unintentionally hurting anyone’s feelings. My only point is that a Chicago area bred and raised guy like myself probable can’t appreciate good gospel music and deep fried or BBQ food.

God is so generous up here with His beauty.

Jim

SLAVES TO A DIFFERENT MASTER

2011-10-16T14:39:00.000-07:00

Yes, Charleston does have a Slave Mart, granted today it’s a museum even if some of Charleston’s vendors would like to deny it ever existed, Believe its because there is no money in it for them.

We found it just a couple of blocks away where the lady with the babble decorated glasses adamantly declared that we were just out to besmirch South Carolina’s famous seaport’s good name.

My thoughts went right away to the enslaved poor and illiterate who populate our land of the free and the brave today.

No, we don’t shackle them in irons; we’ve gotten so much more civilized. We shackle them to living hand to mouth or worse beg to mouth with lack of opportunity, lack of money, lack of education, lack of political power and a host of other ball and chains.

It’s amazing how after all these years the scars from the beatings and irons are still visible on the psyche of so many, yet so many can't figure out why, after all they're free now and we did pass the bill of rights. I guess they figure its no different than the etchings of approval and the landmarks of the landed gentry is on the backs of their decedents.

But I digress. What caught my eye was the AA unity symbol (the circle within the triangle) carved into the façade of the building above the larger of the two windows on the second floor.

Poetic in that freedom from the slavery to our addictions has been and always is right above us.

Really Grateful. Joyous and Free.

Jim

CHARLESTON, NC

2011-10-16T13:25:00.000-07:00

Can’t get there without crossing water as one of the natives said. Couple of big bridges, lot of smaller ones and causeways, even drawbridges.

Ran the Cooper suspension bridge

Don/t know whether you’re crossing river, bay, creek or marsh at night. Length height and smell are tell tale signs, marshes are dank and muddy and a little fishy at low tide.

The food is great. In fact one could spend the whole week long vacation burping from one “must go to” seafood, bib and shell bucket eatery to another.

We sat at a table with several little brass medallions nailed to the surface with little brass nails. Each had the name of some celebrity.

I had a bit of lark envisioning John McLain sitting at this same table Hootie and the Goldfish; I’m sure it had been on different occasions.

I sat in the Hulk Hogan seat and got my picture taken with my arm on a mermaids shoulder

The older and squeaker the dining rooms floors, the more “Charleston’s Finest” awards clutter the walls.

Speaking of walls I believe every spring or other tourist season there must be a contest to determine on which restaurant/bistro walls thereon are hung the most celebrate pics. The older and more funky the better.

Went to the “Slave Market”. Asked one Charleston store owner at the “Charleston Market ” where the SM was. Peering over her babble decorated chain secured reading glasses and out from behind her array of Charleston souvenir shot glasses she very promptly corrected us that Charleston did not, yes she repeated it “Charleston does not have a Slave Market!

Since she was so adamant we were wrong we were determined to find it tomorrow.

Gotta get out of here. Go for a run on the beach; fly a kite and kayaking yet this pm.

Doggone sobriety is great! Joyous and Free.

Jim

WHAT WILL IT BE?

2011-10-13T05:49:00.001-07:00

Good friends, friends who know your warts and still love you to pieces.

Friends, closer than family, who

I suspect know us better than ourselves

after all

They’ve got a ring side seat; only thing missing is the popcorn

Why am I concerned with what they think or for that matter what I think?

God knows, and yet continues to include me in Creation.

I’m a critical and unique link or just a metaphor.

Are my worst mistakes my best contributions or is it those times when I scored myself a perfect ten?

How much and in what way does my laughter and my tears contribute one iota to anything..

Am I part of the spit that keeps everything together?

Or am I a particle of tension keeping everything from colliding.

What is it?

Am I this or that or…am I this and that?

My bumbling speech? My misspelled and mistaken word?

My gravity dragging actions?

Is it in spite of them or because of them?

Is it my experiences stacked high with age or is it my ignorance of tomorrow?

After three quarters of a century under my belt are the few remaining years to contain my main event?

Will I recognize it or will it be like so many others in the past just another day at the office?

Will I participate or sit idly by?

Will I sit on my comfortable old ass or get up and take the risk?

God what ever is your will use my love hungry heart, my memory filled mind and my love –to-tell-a-story tongue as instruments of Your love and Your peace.

JIM

Fellow Spiritual Travelers

2011-09-30T15:12:00.000-07:00

Stopped by and visited with a new friend of mine. Interesting guy. Lost his wife a year ago. Writes poetry almost daily since losing her a year ago; his grief still runs deep.

Since then it's amazing on how he changed. He knows it. No hostility, no anger just a calmness, a peace, "a new me." He says nothing upsets him, acceptance has set in. As he pats his chest he says "she lives on here." Yet he acknowledges "its more than a circumstantial change, it's deeper and broader than that, I'm a new me. Totally different."

His poetry, like his new and exciting "new me" and his relationship with his Higher Power is bursting at the seams. He admits to a "spiritual awakening," his words not mine. We agree that when we first met we could feel the energy, the spiritual energy, that energy that goes beyond words and explanations, we were and are one.

One, because in God we are one. God has always been there we are the johnny-come-latelies who have discover this truth. I experienced it when I entered my first AA meetings. An old friend in the program always insisted that "upon entering a AA meeting or encountering a fellow alcoholic on the street there was a electricity, a recognition of a fellow spiritual traveler."

My new friend and I talked for quite a while in his place of business; he ignored the ringing phone. We were talking about his new found love of writing poetry. I shared with him my own passion.

We agreed poetry brings out or manifests the feminine in us. We also agreed that the male is incomplete until he discovers and integrates the feminine within. We have come to the realization that it sometimes take a jolt, a traumatic experience to jar lose the masculine grip. To make known the masculine's vulnerable self. To deflate the masculine ego and let the feminine heart do the "thinking."

Since the feminine is linked to the heart, it follows that the metaphor,creativity, caring, compassion, suffering and love are also present; that's poetry.

Higher Power

2011-09-26T06:23:00.000-07:00

Got up this morning wanting to post a note. Lot on my mind to share.

Instead during prayer and meditation time got out of my mind and followed my heart into the following.

Knowing You

If You are everywhere

Then why are You so hard to find?

If You’re the very breathe I catch

Then why can’t I hold You longer?

Some say You’re within

A light brighter than the sun

Then why can mere skin bar the sight of You?

Some say You’re in nature

In majestic mountains and towering trees

Then why can mere distraction

Blot You from sight?

If You’re everywhere

Why do I have to seek You?

If I can’t see You

Why do I look and look?

Why explain Yourself

If You’re who I know You to be,

You’re a mystery and

This mere mortal would

never understand.

This knowing You....

I know.

It’s experiencing You

That overshadows

Mere knowledge of You.

Jim

Book Launch--Joyous & Free

2011-09-10T06:21:00.000-07:00

I'm back again. The last time I came back I thought I would be able to settle back into a routine of posting and dabbling with prose and poetry. I was wrong, the preparation for the book launch was mild and less time consuming than the actual launch.

This summer has been one hell of roller coaster ride. In future posts I'll share with you my summer adventures of book signings,conventions and speaking engagements.
These occasions have been a source of true joy. I have met and made friends with hundreds of wonderful folks and with this I am a wealthy man.

In this post I want to thank all those I met and for their overwhelming acceptance of Joyous & Free .

Thank you all for your more than generous postings on and for the many emails comments that I have published in the 2nd Edition due out this week.

Thanks again for your participation in Joyous & Free exceeding all expectations.

I will continue to post.

James Frederick

Last Resort

2011-06-08T05:28:00.001-07:00

Finding myself at a turning point, my belief in a Higher Power and my life in tatters, friends suggested, to mend my ways, I reached out, prayed as they advised. ”God if there is a God help me” and put Him to the test. Later I had to buy my first used car. Once more I listened to my friends, prayed and did a test drive.

LAST RESORT
I was desperate,
why else would I turn
to you?
They said
you were reliable,
could be trusted.

Wavering,
I opened the door.
Stepped in.
Got behind the wheel.
Turned the key.
Shifted out of reverse
into forward.

To me, you were
just another used car.
I kicked your tires,
tested your steering
on open road
and congested streets.

I found you
to be like no other.
No rattles, no shakes.
Balanced and aligned
your timing perfect,
you purred in cruise
and when pedal to metal
you roared.

With a fresh belief,
trusting your handling,
experiencing your power,
I bought You,

bumper to bumper.

Jim

Journey and Destination

2011-06-08T04:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes we're blessed with the awareness that we're experiencing some precious and wonderful moments. We are conscious of an infinite moment. Trapped in linear time and space the beauty of the moment passes however it's not lost but is capture by all our senses for all time.

This pass week we were gifted with a flood of these moments attending a week-long Dream Conference between the awesome delight of crossing and recrossing the Smokies and the Appalachians. We could have taken the interstates and been there within hours. We opted for the "scenic route", 118 curves in 11 miles at one stretch. We choose the clear air, waterfalls, white water, trees and more trees, embracing shear cliffs and slow traffic (mostly under 40mph)to the intimidating broad-sided diesel belching 18 wheelers.

At the conference we met old and new friends. With the "old" we shared the laughs and the tears of the past year. With the "new" we relived the excitement and expectations of "first- timers". We sang, ate, prayed and shared dreams in our lake-side wilderness retreat.Laughter was the music of the week. Even the ducks waddled up on shore to add their "quakling" voices.

The frosting on the cake, being a first time author, for me was the announcement from the podium to the approximately 200 assembled that my book and ebook (Kindle) "Joyful & Free" was now available that day on Amazon.

Needless to say I was overwhelmed with gratitude to my life-time mate and all the wonderful people who who have helped me over the years to have such a week.

Who says we have to die to experience heaven.

Jim

Joyous & Free In Spite of Myself

2011-05-26T08:10:00.000-07:00

Back again after a couple of months of blood, sweat and tears (I exaggerate, actually I enjoyed it) getting my new book ready for launching.

The title says it all. IN SPITE OF MYSELF I completed everything required (felt more like demanded of me) and the printers proof arrived yesterday for approval. With our approval I am told it is ready and available to all on Amazon.

The book takes the reader along on a trip through the first five years of his sobriety. It is the author's journey of mind, body and spirit that is accompanied by a running dialogue(conflict) between his ears (mind talk) over how to stay sober, change and turn his life around. The battle wages between his old way of addictive thinking and acting out to a new and uncharted sober way of thinking and living.

Happy to see all but a couple of my favorites are still up and running. Missed you all

Jim

Handling Change

2011-02-27T09:07:00.000-08:00

Love life now that I no longer feel the drive to travel life's highway in the control lane. Yesterday had been planned a couple of weeks in advance. We would drive up to Nashville and spend the weekend with our children, and their children.

The main reason(s) for the planned weekend was the celebration of not one but five birthdays, an anniversary and family get-together delayed by an unusually cold and nasty winter.

It would be an eventful couple of days sitting in the stands watching one our great grand daughters perform in dance competition and witness our one great grandson compete in basketball. The frosting on the cake would be the cake all of us together.

On Friday I scheduled having new tires mounted on the car for the trip to Mobile and Mardi Gras the following Friday. Needed to get it done this Friday cause after the Nashville trip, I had to travel cross state Monday night to attended a board meeting (2 days).

Proud of myself because I had masterfully maneuvered appointments and commitment's around and had leaned on my mechanic to squeeze the tire thing into my schedule. I was in the cat-bird seat. God I was good!

Saturday morning I was still patting myself on the back when 10 miles out of town and cruising the interstate at 75 I was flagged down by a passing car. The driver slowed, kept abreast of me while frantically pointing to something wrong one of my tires. At first I was bewildered, no way they're not 24hrs old so I shook him off until he sped up to reveal he had his blinker on.

Quick witted as I am I figured it out. I pulled over to the shoulder, got out and discovered one of my tires was flat. Right, so after my wife suggested I call 911, say the Serenity Prayer I called Tennessee's excellent emergency road service. Within twenty minutes my "donut" spare was mounted. Nothing I could do about fixing the new tire today, my mechanic was closed with no home phone.

To sum this up my wife and I stopped for coffee, notified Nashville about change in plans for the day. Having accepted our powerlessness over our situation and deciding on our first move the rest of the day just fell into place filled with being in the right places, at the right time with people who needed us in their lives that day.

Scare myself when I accept change and interruption in MY plans so easily. All I can say is that Serenity Prayer is a real winner and I can't compete only cooperate with that Higher Power.

Jim

Conscious Contact

2011-02-25T06:20:00.000-08:00

Reading Transcending The Levels of Consciousness, D. Hawkins, the other day I came across a passage that hooked me. As usual I twisted it into words I can relate to. The parenthesises are mine.

Mystical union(conscience contact with God) is a state of grace that is unconjured (not conjured by our prayer, meditation or any effort on our part)by work or practice, though it usually follows upon them.

In Step Ten of 12 Step recovery it is suggested that we seek this conscience contact through prayer and meditation. The step also gives promise that if we do so we will recognize the implication of this conscious contact in our daily life.

Over time I came to believe ( to be convinced)that this conscience contact with God is evidenced by the recognition that all is grace and synchronicity, so that, no matter how chaotic or puzzling life becomes, my destiny is being beautifully fulfilled.

As the days and years tumble on I wonder why I wasted so much time struggling with worry or fear for the future, beating my self up, concerned that I wouldn't be up for coping with life's situations lacking the faith in my Higher Power.

When asked, I'll tell you my life until I was in my late twenties was one of chaos and lacking direction; that my life changed when I sobered up and turned my will and my life over to Good Orderly Direction.

I have to admit my ego kinda hedged the "turned my life over" proclamation with,"yah but, remember buster some of the credit belongs to me. If it wasn't for me planning your next moves and practicing every day on the maintenance of your spiritual condition some of the glitter would come off your new life."

I came to realize that my struggle with worry and fear was the product of my battle with life to retain control of it. The more I practiced letting go and letting GOD take care of the future the more peace and serenity I experience in my life. I must add my Higher Power doesn't send me advanced travel plans for my journey; no, just daily road signs (people,especially people, places and things) as to which routes and turns I should take next.

If I stay in the present, heed His direction and listen to the people in my life that I love (and visa-versa)my life as seen in my rear-view mirror makes sense. I can trust it. I'm where I'm suppose to be, going where I suppose to be. And to me that's down right awesome.

Conscious Contact With Higher Power

2011-02-25T03:23:00.000-08:00

Language of the Heart

2011-02-20T05:16:00.000-08:00

As usual, while the rest of the household was still caught up in the bed sheets I got up and went through my morning routine of spiritual reading, meditation and prayer. Then with the birds singing with joy because of our (after a loooong unseasonably cold winter) springlike reprieve I went after the paper at the local newsstand.

The women was cheerful, it was contagious although she agreed with me that,"I have to get up a couple hours early in order to get myself together." To that I added, "know what you mean,I unfold rather than wake up."

Having shared my Sunday morning meanderings with you I'd like to share this-morning's spiritual reading,a poem by Rumi the much quoted 13th century Persian Sufi. I apologize to Rumi for mangling his beautiful words with my own translation.
Here is what I heard.

Speak from the heart, never the mind.
Your honesty and courage will set an example for others,
and by listening to you,
they will be inspired to reveal their own heart.
This "heart speaking" is a spiritual practice.
It means, tell the truth and live within
your own boundaries and dimensions
without ever bragging about things
you won't be able to to live up to
or deliver to others.
Heart speaking will bring you a gift
whenever you practice it.
You will do the next right thing.
The heart knows but cannot tell;
The mind doesn't know but can tell.
Stretch yourself to speak from the heart
and bypass the the mind---
you will see miracles
boomerang back into your life.

As my sponsor always cautioned me,"Speak and act as if you are the only Big
Book (AA) someone might read."
Or as Bill W. referred to the message of AA. Its "the language of the heart."

Jim

Celebrations s s s

2011-02-10T14:48:00.000-08:00

Birthdays, anniversaries, celebrations. February is the merry month for us. It all starts out on Feb 4 and continues daily through Valentine day. Of the 7 birthdays and 2 anniversaries celebrated 5 stand out for my wife and I; our belly-button and recovery birthdays and our wedding anniversary.

The best part of the occasions are the handshakes, the hugs, the kisses, the phone calls, texts and emails.

I look forward to the cards (e & snail) especially the silly musical cards. I wear out the hinge and trip mechanism before I put them down. Usually there are no store-bought gifts. Have everything,don't need anything although I must admit I appreciate the debit gift cards to the restaurants. They're one gift that keeps on giving since my wife and I can then celebrate again on our date night.

Among those at the top of the list goes the handshakes and hugs, these are the priceless expressions of love and joy, given and received freely and generously. These are the gifts that directly validate that someone like myself could possibly grow out of his lonely self centered relationship with himself into someone capable of receiving and giving love.

I've saved the top of birthday list for something priceless; my 3+yr old great granddaughter singing over the phone "Happy Birthday Grandpa, happy birthday to you" in a voice as pure and sweet as any angel. It brought tears.

The top spot on the anniversary list goes of course to the former homecoming beauty, my loving soul mate and tennis partner for all the thousands of days we've been together. She didn't have to sing anything, just hug me.

Of course there is a special place in my heart for all the love and support from my friends in recovery who helped make all the celebrations possible.

Jim

Surprise!! He walks, he talks, he's alive and ....

2011-01-21T13:24:00.000-08:00

Forgot my password, forgot my username. Had to go to blogger.com in order to access my blog. It was great to see Mike L."s comment about guys/gals who stop blogging without much explanation followed by much silence.

For the record I have attended a number of (too many)funerals (tennis friends, old and recent work friends, recovery friends) the last few months.Happy to report that I'm one of the last standing in the available, pallbearer category, although the black jacket is getting a little worn.

I have made more than enough trips to hospitals and doctor offices for myself and for my wife to qualify for a huge medical deduction for tax yr 2010. The great news outside my cancer all the trips were "maintenance" on worn out parts. Our bodies have long passed the warranty limit so we have been charged for both labor and replacement/disposal of the worn out parts. All of this being said physically, mentally and spiritually we are in great shape, a priority, playing tennis at least 3x a week, Y, Yoga and running?.

Due to the slump (I am a product of the depression and have faith that this too will pass ) in the economy and her subsequent loss of an excellent position we were graced with the return of our eldest daughter(50's)to our fireside these last several months here in Tennessee. It was costly for both of us but we truly were blessed with a second chance to heal old wounds and to develop a new and exciting relationship. As of the first of the month she is back practicing her profession in "her" California.

For those who know the importance of meetings, sponsorship, and daily practice I want to assure you that I have not skipped a beat. My wife and I are blessed with a great bunch of loving friends. We needed them even more so given the opportunities to grow, I and she needed all the help we could get and give.

As Board Chair of a new treatment facility (much time and energy) here in Tennessee I have been busy. I continue to write short stories,poetry and getting my finished memoir ready for publication. Had to learn the ins and outs of ebooks and print-on- demand.

Finally we had to remortgage the home and revamp our financial portfolio which took a lot of energy, paperwork,emails, faxes, 'overnights' and over 90 days to accomplish. We certainly contributed to Fed Ex's bottom line.

God willing and the creek doesn't rise I've a 49th sober birthday and my wife a 50th in Alanon coming up the beginning of Feb. Guess who was the hard head, no, she doesn't let me forget it.
Thank God The Will for and in my life has been doing for me that which I could not have done for myself.

Thanks for not giving up on me Mike. Good to hear from you again. You made my day, I needed that. Thanks also to all the rest of you who were concerned and especially thankful for sharing your experience, hope and strength with your continued blogging. Hopefully I'll keep on keeping on.

Grateful
Jim

Life happens while making other plans

2010-07-30T04:17:00.000-07:00

Been attending to a number of life's little surprises.
Just a note before I run around to all your sites,catch up
leave a comment then get back to posting.

Missed you all

Jim

Keep It Simple

2010-07-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

Missed you all.
This past several days have had been marked by life events (physical, financial, family), each requiring full attention. What can I say I’ve been busy.

In the midst of all the goings-on I picked up an old book, The Tao Of Pooh (Hoff). Just the ticket as I needed something simple and light hearted. The TOP is based on the Pooh children stories and its characters. Wanted something that would call my mind out to play.

I know, you would probable suggest that I pray, meditate, read the “literature” reach out to someone else (sponsee or sponsor), go to meeting, turn it over to HP. All of them time proven and excellent ways of getting out of myself and into HP’s will.

I did all of the above, however I also believe that if I do some or all of the above my HP will then present me with the opportunity to take action (or not) to adjust my attitude. To wake me up or present me with the insight to trust in my HP, to turn it over, then pray for the direction to do the next “right” thing.

That “opportunity” this time came in the form of the “Tao Of Pooh” silly as it may seem. My HP has a sense of humor, evidence in that He has put up with me.

In the TOP it is explained that in Toaism (The Way) the most important principle is the
Uncarved Block. “That the things in their original simplicity contain their own natural power, power that is easily spoiled and lost when that simplicity is changed.

Eureka! Who would have guessed? I saw it as the “Steps”!
The principles which have motivated me, for over four and a half decades, to show up daily, in my sweats, for practicing living “life on life’s terms.” In their simplicity they contain the power. The power to face all or any of life’s opportunities.

Of course to my sophisticated (right) and ego-driven mind I hear myself saying, “It can’t possible work, that’s too damn simple." I have to spoil them, Complicate them.

So my mantra has always been….Keep It Simple Stupid…knowing that by suiting up and showing up willing to practice
I will find the way to peace of mind and serenity in the simple steps I take today.

Jim

True to Self.....Others

2010-06-30T05:46:00.000-07:00

What can I say?
Whatever my message.
I should be the sole author...

yet my vision
of myself is not clear.
I have blind spots.
At times I spotlight
my accomplishments
unaware of my fabrications
while quick to cast a dismissive eye
at my pratfalls.

I need others, others holding,
square into my public face,
a magnifying mirror.
Others that can project
their likes and dislikes into me
so that I can paint
a clearer portrait from within.

Even then I will turn around
and project into others
my likes and dislikes,
my bright spots
and dark spots,
especially those
that bring my blood to a boil.

As true to myself and to you
as I would like to be,
at best I end up putting
make-up on my warts and blemishes
while highlighter on my good side.

So I guess I’m wrong
I’m not the sole author
of my story.
I need your insight
and editing.

Thank God….. and you
that see me,
through and through,
love me….anyway.

Jim

Attitude. Life

2010-06-28T05:29:00.000-07:00

Me and life. What can I say?

Well Jim for starters.

Life is an inner attitude...

Change it!

Keep is simple and forthright…

Turn yourself and your problems
over to God…then

do the next right thing*..

Leave them in His hands…then

do the next right thing.

Trust Him … everything will (His) turn out right,

While you’re busy doing the next right thing.

*right thing. The task in front of me, this minute…this day. Usually the thing
I don’t want to do, even nothing.

Thanks for listening to me talk to myself into “letting go.”

My attitude has changed. Relieved. Surprise, surprise. Worry,fear have settled down. Imagine that.

Gotta run, things I can do and you’ve given me the Twelve tools to do them with..

Thanks

Jim

I am Responsible whenever.....

2010-06-26T06:14:00.000-07:00

I answered my cell. What’s up big guy?

Got a phone call, a friend (Jake) needs help. Relapsed. Been drinking. Wasted.
Crying to go to detox.

What’s the problem?

Right now he’s the problem, nobody wants him. You’ve been around awhile, think you might know him. He’s called several places, no insurance, say they can’t admit him for several days, maybe weeks. He’s been to treatment before, they know him. To them he’s a pain in the a**.

Big guy was right. After a few questions I did recognize Jake as one of my first clients in a treatment center, different city twenty years ago. I could also understand everybody’s reluctance to accept him. Jake hasn’t put more than a few months of sobriety together at a time.

Been told to play hard-a** with him. People I’ve talked to say he’s hopeless. Don’t be soft with him, he doesn’t really want it. Maybe he doesn’t want it, but I can’t bring myself to drop him cold; he did call for help.

Right. For me that’s the key. Don’t play God. We can’t judge whether he wants it or not, whether this time will be the time or not. I would suggest that we do whatever we can for the guy and let God do the sorting out.
Knowing his history I’ll make some phone calls, if we can’t get the help he needs we always have ER or…. You call him back let him know we’ll help him.

**

I called. Made arrangements. We could pick him up. Big guy called back. Jake would not answer his phone.
Jake hadn’t told Big guy where he was, his estranged wife didn’t know either. Big guy would keep trying.

God only knows.

Jim

Happy Birthday Mike--flash 55 friday

2010-06-25T06:53:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday Mike
Senselessly at twenty six
Thirty-eight calibers
tattooed your future.
You and doctors labored
hours at eternity’s door
surviving for twenty years
with missing and impaired
body parts. Without legs,
half a man physically,
twice a man spiritually.
After years of operations,
Not enough pain relievers
Body depleted
ER death, forty-six.
Finally freed.

Jim, Mike's dad

Today Well Lived

2010-06-18T09:42:00.001-07:00

My friend greeted me with, how’s life treating you?

Great, better than I deserve.

How can you say that?

Why not?

Well, for starters, you say every bone and muscle in your body aches.
Face it, you don’t have much mileage left on that old bod.

Right, but it’s a good ache because
yesterday morning after “quiet time”,
I had a board meeting (rehab center, text and phone) before breakfast,
took call from friend , made calls, arranged rehab
for her son, a 20 y/o meth, opiates and alcohol addict,
then drove cross town to play tennis till noon,
drove back home grabbed a shower, a bite and a half hour nap.

Drove half way across town to Y with wife
did Yoga for an hour and a half.
We had lunch then, drove further down town
To a weekly 2 hour meditation and spiritual growth group

Drove back home, collected my laptop,
Drove twenty miles to monthly poetry group (writer friends),
reviewed two poems (drafts) ready for publisher.

Returned home (wife and daughters) in time to catch 2nd quarter
of LA, Celtics playoff, made popcorn, caught The Daily Show.
Did personal inventory, prayed and hugged with wife,
then zonked off to sleep.

I tell you all this and say life is good today because
I have come to believe in the Sanskrit Proverb

Look to this day...for,
…today well lived,
Makes every yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.

Look well, therefore to this day.

I might add with a good mix of “family, friends, self and Higher Power.

Hope

2010-06-15T13:52:00.000-07:00

At quiet time this am we read the following by William Styron. It hit the mark for me, wanted to share it with you.

The poetic and profound writing is in its original form except for one word. For my own reading I chose in the second line to insert addiction and depression.” I also changed the format for my own ease of reading and remembering it.

For those who have dwelt
in depression's dark wood,
And known its inexplicable agony,
their return from the abyss
is not unlike the ascent
of the poet,
trudging upward and upward
out of hell’s black depths
and at last emerging
into what he saw
as “the shining world”.
There, whoever
has been restored to health
has almost always been restored
to the capacity for serenity and joy,
and this may be indemnity
enough for having endured
the despair beyond despair.

From Prayers for Healing. Edited by Maggie Oman

Jim

Daily Check In

2010-06-14T06:32:00.000-07:00

Been a hard day, I was getting in bed when the phone rang.

AA?
No….well yeah…..who’s this?
This is Angie, bartender at Schuyler Tap…..
drunk in here asked me to call you.
What’s his name?
Don’t know. An out-of-towner….drunk when he came in….
gave him a drink to shut him up.
What does he want?
Wants you to come and get him.
Oh crap….just getting in bed…got to get up early…work.
You're not coming? I’m calling police.
Wait…be there in about 15 minutes.
Good…. but I’m throwing his sorry a** out of here…
he’ll be waiting for you on the curb.

*
He was on the curb like a sack of garbage, head in hands, just like the bartender said he would be….between sobs he mumbled.

From Wisconsin….been sober little over twelve years….good job
….wife, kids…. lost it all …..
It’s okay…. I’ve called other AAs….we’ll be with you tonight.
*
As I helped him onto the cot at the Starlight, a $1.00 a night flop house on the strip he grabbed my arm and pleaded with me.

Jim, it’s all in the first thing you do when you wake up…..
Please, please check in with your Higher Power every morning….
ask for help...it all started when I didn’t….didn’t take long….
stopped doing everything else …. it all came crashing down.
Thanks….see you in the morning.

Priceless note from 6.13.64.
.
Jim

Spiritual Growth and Dreams

2010-06-12T04:58:00.000-07:00

Spiritum contra spiritus
Higher Power opposes alcoholism

So wrote Dr. Jung to Bill Wilson. It was this message, Higher Power Overcomes Alcoholism, that Rowland Hazard, who had been Jung's patient in 1930, who carried it to Bill Wilson via Ebby Thatcher, November 26, 1934. It has been acknowledged that the message was the start of Alcoholics Anonymous. Bill's last drink was December 11th, 1934. Bill's spiritual experience occurred the evening of the 14th.

Just a little history, but wanted to tie in Jung’s connection with the foundation of AA and how his studies, work and his own spiritual journey are significant in honoring how our dreams can be used to guide us in our spiritual growth.

We just spent a glorious week with two-hundred other spiritual-path travelers. We went to workshops, ate meals, prayed, played, and laughed together while learning a great deal about the meanings of our dreams in our lives with a special emphasis on our spiritual growth.

Although the conference was held in an Episcopal Conference Center the travelers were made up of a full assortment of folks who professed affiliation with various established faiths. Unlike AA conferences and retreats we were required to open our minds to honor many diverse understandings of God. Note: I started out in sobriety praying “God if there is a God…”.

The six of us in recovery (two to forty-eight yrs) were tightly bound to the principals according to Bill & Bob and loosely affiliated with the established faiths. My wife and I were numbered among the eclectics (diverse and free).

To be in such a stimulating crowd was exciting. Exciting to learn how others in and out of recovery came to know the God of their understanding. All of us attending listen to our dreams, acknowledging that they have enhanced our relationships with our Higher Power, ourselves and others. The interesting part is how they relate to how to cope with life on a daily basis.

I believe dreams are a great way to improve our conscious contact with our HP. They come to us in our sleep when our “thinking mind” is shut down, allowing the unconscious to speak to us. I put into quotation marks our “thinking mind” because it’s so often said “my best thinking got me here”.

This is not buga-buga, my wife’s term for weird and far out, nor are our dreams to be treated like cheap parlor games. The sub-title of the conference refers to “Dreams, God’s Forgotten Language.”

Supported scientifically as well by documented events in history dreams have been pivotal in helping great men change history; from Gilgamesh to Joseph, Patton, Lincoln and even Paul McCartney with the tune for “Yesterday”.

Jim

BP to Lady Gulf Friday 55

2010-06-11T05:50:00.000-07:00

No! Don’t screw with me.
Oh, c’mon trust me
You sure it’s safe?
Believe me it is.
Nothing will happen.
Promise?
Promise
Don’t worry…. using a
casing…….won’t leak,
fail-proof…been tested.
No problem.
Don’t lie to me.
Don’t worry…it’s safe.
C’mon just this once.
Always be there for me?
Like oil on water.

Sanity and Serenity Restored

2010-06-05T12:14:00.000-07:00

Sorry I did a cop-out on you'al for the last several days.
My wife and I took a trip over and through the Smokies.It was downright beautiful and restorative;embracing canyons between evergreen forest and gurgling white water streams.
We had been there many times before and knew it was just what we needed to restore sanity and serenity into our lives.
Once over to the eastern side of the mountains we attended a Dream workshop at a conference center for the week.
The conference was attended by over 200 great loving people all bent on their own spiritual quests. As it has been every year we have attended, there were a few of us in 12 step recovery. Meetings, meals and hanging out with them was the frosting on the cake.
Back now I'll resume posting and hope you will come a-visiting me. I missed you all and will be coming around.

Jim

Life On A Daily Basis

2010-05-22T05:49:00.000-07:00

As of late I’ve occasionally been having trouble with my sleeping and dreaming. Oh I’ve been dreaming but when I awake I can’t remember them. One goes with the other. My mind is engaged before I awake.

My mind wakes me between 4 and 5am. My mind has been up ahead of me making my body uncomfortable and impatiently waiting for me to wake up. It sole intent is to nag me out of bed to wrestle with a full litany of problems to solve.

I can hear it now.
“How in the hell can you sleep when I have so many things to resolve?
If our life depended on you we would have been wiped out long ago.
C’mon kid get your sorry ass out of bed. I’m dying here.”

As I make it down the hall to the kitchen and a cup of coffee I take cover in a conversation with my HP, and the Serenity Prayer.

My mind is persistent but I shove back. “No damn it. I don’t want to go there. Any discussion with you about your oldest daughter’s year long drought of unemployment, inadequate insurance and what’s going to happen to her is useless.”

While I’m at it, were not going discuss my youngest daughter’s dilemma. I realize she is 51 and also no longer able to manage the most elementary tasks of daily living. I know my wife and I can’t handle the day-in and day-out care for her. You’re right we don’t have the foggiest idea what the solution is for her.

I’m starting to get totally hooked. My mind has forced its foot into the door. If the Serenity Prayer and 24HAD reading doesn’t click in I’m dead. I’ll be taken captive with “What ifs, why nots, could bees and ought to bees.”

I'm also aware the twin demons of guilt and shame are warming up in the wings to raise their ugly heads. They always attack with teeth bared and sharp tongues. “Why can’t you do more and what is it about you that you’re not able to do more?”

After several more “God grant me(s)… and “turning my life over to my HP” the mind talk drifts off to the shallow end of the pool. Peace is restored.

I'm grateful. I have all I need or could possibly want today, thanks to you all.

Jim

Nosey----Flash Friday

2010-05-21T04:55:00.000-07:00

What are you thinking?
Why do you ask? You nosey?
Nosey?
What’s wrong with that?
What about you?
You nosey?
Me, why do you say that?
How would I know?
Don’t know?
Me, really? Nosey?
Who else?
Yes, why not?
Rather just talk?
What’s to talk about?
Don’t know?
Sex life?
See what I mean?

Jim

Thanks

2010-05-15T07:10:00.000-07:00

On this day, May 13 in the margin of my 24HAD book I had written two notes; great reminders.

The one in the left hand margin read BR 1964. All of the letters were crude heavy block and slanted backward.

The other at the top of the page read Psych Test Chicago 1977. All the letters were finer lighter print and slanted forward.

The backward slanted letters; pessimistic downers.
On the BR 64 date I felt like I was licking the bottom of the barrel. Every material thing was taken from us, home, cars, trucks even the washer and dryer. My ego as well as my mind were also in the mix someplace.

The forward slanted letters; optimistic, uppers.
On the PTC 77 date I was sitting in a Psychologist office taking a four hour Psych test for a great job that would prove to not only provide a good living but a good retirement.

In addition to the obvious it’s also ironic that on the 64 date a Psych test would have judged me a good candidate for the funny farm.

What would you note? Me? On this date 2010 I have noted in larger happier print. THANKS HP for both 64 & 77!

Started this the 13th
Have a good day

Jim

That Thing With Your Fingers--55 Friday

2010-05-14T06:07:00.000-07:00

What are you doing?
What?
That thing with your fingers.

Doesn’t it strike you as odd?
No.
Others do it.

Could be doing something else.
I am
No you’re not.
Yes I am.

What?
Talking to myself.
You listen?
Not always.

Why then?
Others read it.
Why?
Cause it’s Friday.
And
Might get a chuckle.

Jim

Service & Fellowship

2010-05-12T16:32:00.000-07:00

Had a dream the night before last wherein I dreamed not of LIl' Abner but of Shmoon((plural of Shmoo). Lots of them running around happy as larks.

Me, I was busy collecting bronze coins and placing them in a tin box. Next to the tin box was another "box" overflowing with play things.

The Shmoo the creation of Al Capp first appeared in the comic strip Lil’Abner in August 1948.

The Shmoo believed that the only way to happiness was to bring happiness to others.

The Shmoo was a lovable animal. They existed to delight people.

Lil’ Abner discovered Shmoon when he ventured into the forbidden Valley of the Shmoon, against the frantic protestations of Ol' Man Mose.

Shmoos," he warned, "is the greatest menace to hoomanity th' world has evah known."

"Thass becuz they is so bad, huh?" asked Li'l Abner.

"No, stupid," answered Mose, hurling one of life's profoundest paradoxes at Lil' Abner. "It's because they're so good!"

Seen at first as a boon to humankind, they were ultimately hunted down and exterminated to preserve the status quo.

Thought extinct after the 1948 adventure, one Shmoo always seemed to escape to form a new colony.

As my dream it holds special meaning, hope the same is true for you Shmoon also.

Jim

Promises, True Love

2010-05-10T15:33:00.000-07:00

Hi everybody. Before this gets to sound like a Christmas card letter I want to post a belated Mother’s Day acknowledgment of the mothers in our family.

I want to honor the women in my family. They have been the heart and the backbone of three generations of mending the wounds of alcoholism in themselves, their spouses and their children.

From great grandmother to grandmother to mothers they have mothered their families with a love that is tough though true, compassionate and nurturing. They have been the wind under our wings.
They have been instrumental in intervening on an old family tradition. We are blessed.

I am especially blessed with such a wife, who lived through nine years of my drinking and was instrumental in my making the first call. When asked how she put up with my behavior she would reply. “With Jim I have five children; I’m counting on the other four growing up.”

. **
What a week! Actually it started in Nashville the prior weekend with all the rain and flooding and ended in Nashville with grand-parents day at great grandson/ daughter’s school and mother’s day celebrations on this past weekend.

The bad news.
Nashville really got it. Disaster? Sounds a little heavy until you visit the city. Water rationing, church parking lots full of Red Cross Emergency Disaster Equipment and the homes and buildings destroyed. Perhaps the saddest was the home owners carting their water soaked ruined furnishings and personal things out to the curb for disposal.

The good news.
Each of the children’s households although touched in some way by all the water, nothing was serious.
The great grands had parts in the “Fifties Revue” musical put on by all the students K thru Fourth Grade for grand-parents day. It was hilarious.
With everyone intact we spent the rest of the weekend grateful for sobriety.
Thank you God, AA, Alanon and all the rest of you for it all.
What’s that answer when asked, how am I doing?
“Better than I deserve.”

Jim

This New Way of Life.

2010-05-09T05:08:00.000-07:00

Read this poem by John O’Donohue in quiet time yesterday. I think it speaks to all of us whether we are new or have many years in this new way of life.

It certainly says it all for me. “…and for this I am grateful.”

Now is the time to free the heart,
Let all intentions and worries stop,
Free the joy inside the self,
Awaken to the wonder of your life.

Open your eyes and see the friends
Whose hearts recognize your face as kin,
Those whose kindness watchful and near,
Encourages you to live everything here.

See the gifts the years have given,
Things your effort could never earn,
The health to enjoy who you want to be
And the mind to mirror mystery.

Jim

God Like a Used Car

2010-05-06T06:06:00.000-07:00

I was at a turning point in my life; I was about to lose everything. I had to admit I was alcoholic, that my life was unmanageable. Out of options I sought help. The man I talked to suggested that I join them in AA and reach out to the God of my understanding for help.

I was no longer convinced there was a God. He suggested that I pray. ”God if there is a God help me.” "Try it, put Him to the test. It doesn't matter what you believe,it'll work." So I did, God did, I became convinced.

Later when I did lose everything including the cars I had to settle on buying my first used car. I put the purchasing of the car to test.

I was desperate,
You were a last resort.
Why else would I
turn to you?
They said
You were reliable
could be trusted.
You would help.

Not fully convinced
I closed my eyes,
threw caution to the wind,
opened the door
stepped in.
Behind the wheel
I turned the key,
shifted gears
and drove off.

To me, you were
just another used car
I tested you,
kicked your tires
tested your handling
on open road and
down congested streets.

I found you to be like no other
No rattles, no shakes
unswerving, balanced and
aligned.
Your timing perfect,
you purred
like a kitten in cruise
and roared
like a lion with petal to the metal.

Devoid of faith
I bought You
bumper to bumper
simply by trusting
others and
praying,
If this is the
One let it be the One.

Need a used car?
Come, take a test drive.
Trust us,
you’ll find the One for you.

JIm

Texting - What Next, Sky Diving?

2010-05-01T07:03:00.000-07:00

Shamed into it other day, both my wife and I.
It all started weeks before as a result of our bitching about being the last to hear any news from our daughters and granddaughters. All Blackberry-ed up.
We stood our ground. I stated the argument against, my wife chimed in.
“No, we do email, have latest phones, I’ve started a blog, you’ve caved and joined Facebook. Not going to add another hazard to our highways”
“No, there’s a limit. Why do we have to text?”
” I remember when we only had a party-line when I was growing up.”
“Right and we kids could only stay on the line for 2 minutes or less and had to ask permission from mom or dad.”
If we stayed on longer we would hear from the other room.
“Your two minutes are up. Off. Say goodbye.”
The clincher came as a result of not hearing any news from the hospital about a friend of ours. His wife, a black-belt Blackberry wielder had kept all our other friends up to date texting, one text fit all, as she sat and waited outside the operating room.
When my wife finally reached her, my wife apologized noting that she had called several times but “You were probably too busy to return my calls.”
Tired and drained from the ordeal with the hospital and her husband’s operation she blurted out to my wife.
“when are you two going to hook up to the new millennium? I’ve texted everybody.
Get with it.”
“All right, all right all ready, we get it.”
Stop laughing.
A couple hours later, smug smiles on our faces we thanked the sales rep (as we would a pilot when deplaning) for helping us take another giant step (for us) into cellular space.

Jim

Trauma Like A Tick

2010-04-30T04:59:00.000-07:00

Out of the blue,
most times unseen.
Catches you off guard.
Shocks you.
Buries deep into your skin
with a vise like grip.
First reaction, crush it.
Don’t panic.
Acknowledge it.
Don’t rebuff it.
Accept it, it may be diseased.
With help
grasp firmly at head
pull firmly and steadily
until the tick lets go.

Jim

Conscious Contact With God

2010-04-28T16:29:00.000-07:00

At 12:30 we gathered. A couple of us had stopped in, (half-hour and cup of coffee) to the 12-noon AA meeting at a downtown church before walking down the hall to the Centering Prayer Group. The group meets every Wednesday (12:30) and has about fifteen regulars, half of which are in recovery.

We sit in a semi-circle, business men/women, professionals, teachers, therapists, phys-ed instructor, and us, the usual spectrum of alcoholics. Since we begin the session by saying a few words about why we are here rather than who we are we can only guess as to who we are and what we do. Really doesn't matter, we all definitely feel as one spiritually.

Our routine is a spiritual reading, half hour of silent contemplative prayer, twenty minutes of playing a DVD by a spiritual leader followed by twenty minutes of comments. These spiritual readings and DVDs are generally lightly laced with religious jargon as the group is attended by folks from different religious persuasions.

It is not surprising that the comments afterward are generally dominated by the alcoholics since the purpose of the Contemplative prayer, like meditation or contemplation is to improve our conscious contact with God as we understand God.

Think about it; the AA program is a spiritual program. It is suggested that we seek through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious (personal) contact with God. We (AAs) in the group feel right at home talking about spirituality and God in our personal lives. We keep it simple and also know about witnessing endless spiritual experiences in others.

I love the 11th Step because of the hope that it instills that it is possible to have a conscious contact with the God of our understanding if we just seek it and the 12th Step because of its promise of a spiritual awakening as a result of practicing the Twelve Steps in our lives.

There is also the promise that there is a God, no matter how we understand God, that is big enough to have a personal relationship with each and every one of us if we simply make the choice to accept and maintain it daily.

One of the women in the group has started an 11th Step meeting in our home group across town as a result of this group.

jim

Jekyll and Hyde

2010-04-24T04:39:00.000-07:00

At last poetry group meeting it was suggested that we write about our entry into high school. After all these years its still vivid. It took me sixteen years to seek help with the Jekyll and Hyde thing. Still working on it without the alcohol.
A note on the poem :
Our town had IC railroad tracks that split the moneyed side from the poor and working class. One saying on the rich side was "the air even smells different across the tracks."
Not true.
Even though there were a lot of us Frenchmen we bathed more than once a week and didn't pee in the streets.

Across The Tracks

Not here ....
Not this nerdy
barely thirteen year old.
Didn’t belong.
Not this shy French
West side kid.
They think me different,
knew it the first day.

Not here ....
East of the tracks.
not in this co-ed class.
seated next to rich Phyllis,
her jet black hair,
perky cashmere and all.
Not this altar boy, this
Catholic all-boy-
school transfer.

Not here ....
in this elite
high school,
with its polished floors,
uppity kids,
teachers aloof and snooty.
Never make it

Not here ....
dressed in surplus army fatigues
from the wrong
side of the tracks.
Six dozen steel ribbons,
Of Illinois Central tracks,
Dividing city into
“right” and “other” side.

Not here ....
Out of place.
What to do?
Get accepted?
Die?

Here ....
Show them
Go out for football,
quiet your trembling nerd,
unleash the alpha dog.
Make varsity,
play hard, party hard.
Make big-boy buddies,
seniors, returning
hairy-chested WWII vets.

Here ....
Show them.
Jekyll into Hyde.
Make them notice,
screw the studies,
chug-a-lug with the best,
date the cheer leader.
Live it up.
They thought me different,
I'll be different.

Jim

Fear of Failure

2010-04-21T13:42:00.000-07:00

The other day I received a notice of a poetry reading at a local coffee shop.
I thought I would read a couple of my poems but…
You would have thought I was planning on scaling Mt. Everest rather than just traveling across town to stand up before a hand full of amateur poets. The argument between my ears took on legs. It reminded me of old thinking and of making mountains out of mole hills.
Called in my HP and was able to shut the arguments down.
I did go, I did read and lived to write this piece.

There…..
barely see it
there shrouded in the
mist., feel it, hear it calling,
know it’s there, your
next summit
and bliss.
Yah…..
love to go but,
too far, too high, too many
twists and turns, take too long,
path not marked, never been there.
What if I get lost, run out of
rations, get stranded, break
a leg? Where will I
take cover?
What if…….
there’s nothing
there. What will I do?
People will think me foolish,
call me a dreamer. Forget it! There’ll
be predators, boulders, rivers,
ravines blocking
the way.
Nah……..
Too chancy,
not worth the risk,
wouldn’t make it anyway.
Waste of time. Better to settle
on familiar ground.
Be practical. Stay
the rutted
way.
Aw…no
no...No! I’ll do it. What the hell.
C’mon, shut down the chatter between your ears,
admit you’re scared, grab God’s hand, get off your butt and go do it.
In spite of your fear.

Jim

My Love ---Flash Friday

2010-04-15T14:40:00.000-07:00

Detroit—Wayne State, football scholarship, 1951
Street Cars clanging up,down Woodward, Gratiot Avenues
First date Snows of Kilimanjaro, Pizza afterward,
fell in love with homecoming queen nominee.
Mid-semester, draft board requested participation in Korean War.
Proposed, flew to Fort Lauderdale, married, children, grandchildren,
great-grandchildren
What a life! Love still growing!
Always my homecoming queen.

Jim

Procrastination -- Change

2010-04-15T12:24:00.000-07:00

Another push to put the finishing (yeah, right!)touches to my manuscript. Makes about the umpteenth time, but who's counting. I'm even looking at a couple of covers; one serious, the other with a touch of humor. So far everybody goes with the humorous one. I agree. As to the book itself we all agree it's almost there. Not camera ready but close. However the OCDs and critics in the crowd probable will want changes made to the text and the covers will end up looking completely different.

I’ve got to remember its progress rather than perfection, I wish they would too and give it up already. Who’s they? Actually it’s as much I as they. They come in many different voices and guises. See I/they have done it again. I/they have me arguing with myself about placing the blame. It's a ploy to justify my procrastination (resistance to change). Well I/they have succeeded, wily little bastards.

Okay,okay, now that I’ve caught myself, I will own it and move on. Others can do be critical, they can give their opinions and suggestions. I need them, they're vital. It's a love/hate affair. I can't get along without them and its hard for me to agree with them. Left to my own devices I would never agree to changes or improve.

This little ole posting started out about changes and criticism about my writing it's plain that it's a statement about my life in general. Oh well, back to the drawing board. I can't turn my back on my constant companions, change (resistance to)and procrastination, for a moment.
Thank God I can start over daily or as many times in a given day that I want. Enough already, get on to making the changes.NOW!

Jim

Balance

2010-04-14T06:01:00.000-07:00

Went to Writers Guild last night. Quarterly board meeting with monthly membership meeting following. Had a speaker, a writer with more than 40 years experience and sixteen books published. Quite an unusual man. Published his first book, one story at age nine. It was a children's book complete with illustrations. He had the newspaper clipping to prove it.

His has been an exhausting career with most often two of more "projects" on the grill at the same time. He was quite entertaining with enough tips on writing to fill a book. No,it's one book he hasn't attempted preferring to travel when and where ever to perform in person.

I sat there wondering how he has kept up the pace over the years. Where did he get all the time? I didn't have to ask;he clarified it for me. He explained that his whole life is his writing, then he gave us one of those "don't try this in your home" ... if you aren't single bits.

I was relieved. As much as I would love to have more time to write I am grateful and happy that my life is such that I must fit writing into my life not my life into my writing.

Jim

Inner & Outer 55 Flash Friday

2010-04-08T15:19:00.000-07:00

Morning
tennis.
warmed up
played:
backhands
forehands
overheads
volleys
serves
faults
aces.
lobbed
passed down the line
out of breath
changed over
drank water
mindless chatter
match over, exhausted.
Afternoon
Yoga.
breath control
stretch
child's pose
cobra
plank
half lotus
twist
downward dog
cat
warrior
sun salutation
shoulder stand
tree
deep breathing
silence
savasana,refreshed.

HALT

2010-04-05T05:45:00.000-07:00

It has been a couple of weeks of physical and emotional intensity. Been aware of HALT and took measures to stay balanced with meetings, meditations, sponsors, sleep and eating right.
However the ole bod feels like its been "rode hard and put up wet". Ok it's an old saying from horse and buggy days but the one that most apply says it for me. My sleep has been interrupted by protesting bones and muscles.
Which led me to this poem.

PAINLESS
When awakened
I embraced a bliss,
a calm untold,
for behold
not a hint of pain
in torso, limb or soul.

Yes, I did question
am I awake and sane?
I hugged the bedclothes-
a fluffy cloud
devoid of pain.

At seventy and seven
truly amazed
to be in comfort, oh so real.
At first the truth to tell
I half expected-
that final peal.

If this is it,
do not disturb, please
use no ploy.
Just lay here, wallow in
all this comfort
peace and joy.

With breaths of air
now slow,
a mind a grinning,
a body a humming
my soul did glow.

Squelching
a spoiling thought
that appeared.
I lay silent and
enjoyed the pleasure of
this respite from toil and fear.

In life’s frantic race
I can attest
rarely since a babe
such a bliss have I embraced.
jamesfrederickm 4.10

My Hero , My Son Mike

2010-03-31T16:46:00.000-07:00

Thursday was the 5th anniversary of our son Mike's death.It doesn't seem like five years ago. No, nor does it seem like yesterday or ever. When asked how many children we have I still answer 4, 3 daughters and a son who lives in Tampa. I can't always bring myself to clarify that he is deceased.

Mike did it all; from alcohol to cocaine.He could charm the skin off a snake.There were always girls earlier, women later who wanted to pickup the pieces for him. When he was in his cups he could be devilish. When sober little kids, puppy dogs and his many friends would follow him anywhere.

For the last twenty years of his life he was a paraplegic living in the Tampa area. In the community he lived in, he was known and loved by all the merchants and his neighbors. In a Persian restaurant they put up a memorial in the dining room with picture and memorabilia
Mike never met a stranger. Condo owners would let him use their pools for his daily swim. He worked part time in a mom and pop insurance agency. They treated him like a mom and a pop in our absence.

The last twenty years,wheelchair bound, were spent in and out of the emergency rooms (mend this)and long extended stays (replace that) in University Hospital. Despite damaged spine and seriously damage to liver, main artery, lungs, arm, shoulder Mike insisted in living independently and "to the hilt". Having survived the operations all the docs agreed Mike was a short timer.

In between hospital stays and morphine drips he would make attempts at getting clean. I can't recall how many treatment centers he went to. Over the years whenever I(we) would go down to help him recoup after the hospital stays we would go to AA meetings together. His pain never took an off day and the need for some relief.

Toward the end (last few years) we became really close. He and I pushed down any and all the walls(almost all alcohol and drug related) that had distorted our relationship. We embraced and loved each other as purely father and son.

The last time I particularly remember. Having spent over a month in the hospital, I help him home. Still too weak I stayed the week to relieve the home nurse from having to help into the tub and for his daily toilet ritual. On one of the days with him in my arms like a baby (fragile and underweight), his head on my shoulder he whispered, "dad I love you".

Yah.... I miss him but I am sustained by the gift of his breath of love in my ear.

Mike was 25 y/o when shot several times/paralyzed
The drunk jealous shooter was also 25 y/o. He was imprisoned 8 yrs.
Died after another imprisonment and
several attempts at sobriety.
All over a girl who later dumped both of them.
Jim

Wiser

2010-03-28T16:59:00.000-07:00

Thank God it's not how many times we stumble
but how many times we pick ourselves up
and start all over again.

Exhausted
I’ve run the path,
rarely stopping.
Escaping, pursuing
most times not knowing
what or where.

I’ve ziged I’ve-zaged
to a fancy here,
a dead end there.
Many times
to find the path again
I’ve retraced my steps
and made amends.

Back on the straight
and narrow
pleased yet humbled
I’ve prided myself to be
if not a whole lot smarter
a tad bit wiser.

However tied to ego,
my inflamed I
will have its way
despite for guidance
I thought I prayed.
My plan?
Never again to stray,
yet stray again,
many times I have.

As farther up and down
life’s path I stumbled
I learned this lesson well.
I need not stray,
if before I wander off
I’d pray.
God take my hand,
Lead, I’ll follow.
james frederick m 3.10

The Crawfish Feast

2010-03-27T05:44:00.000-07:00

What can I say? It was one of those evenings! A fun night. Had all the ingredients in one place. Three other couples we love. Laughter,place packed to capacity, loud conversations, shouting over a Cajun band playing in the background. An old family pub atmosphere.

The pub, beer only, the brain child of a ruddy faced, constantly smiling, bearded baseball capped Cajun from Louisiana. Old rusty licenses plates tacked to the wall glaring back inviting patrons to travel back down memory lane or better yet let your imagination run wild. Several hundred dollar bills covered with scribbled messages by happy customers wall papered the bar's walls.

When we pulled up into the parking lot, there was no doubt that we had the right place, we had spotted it at once. At curb side the owner was standing before two ten gallon steaming pots with mounds of grayish-black craw-fish awaiting dipping and a new red coat. Propane fired burners, pots and morsels of honor all sat, tailgate down, on the bed of his canary-yellow restored Camino.

Seated inside we were instructed by our waitress that the craw-fish weren't on the menu, they were special;just on weekends during March. The individual servings came in one or three pound tray orders. The tray included the craw-fish, boiled red potatoes,corn on the cob and sausage all boiled in a hot Cajun sauce. We all ordered the three pounder. No beer for us, water would do nicely, thank you.

The laughter got deafening as we all dug into twisting the heads off then sucking the meat out of the tail. Louisiana-Cajun style of eating them as told by the Cajun in our party. Fingers were dripping in grease, faces smeared with red-hot drippings as the shells, claws and other craw-fish parts overflowed in the "off-fall" buckets on the table.

We went through several rolls of paper towels.

On leaving the hugs went all around. We all felt the deepest appreciation that in all of our pasts this wonderful loving evening would have most likely have ended in just one more horror story.

Jim

Choices --55 Friday

2010-03-26T07:01:00.000-07:00

Mind racing. Can't write.
Resisting , can't let go.
Choices, choices.
Maybe it's the pen, slow pen-fast pen? No.
Black ink-blue ink?
Tight jeans, loose shorts.
Can't be the writer! Hell no!
Broad tip--fine tip? Blank paper--lined paper?
Sh*t-head! Give it up.
Get unstuck,
Let go. Get out of the way.

Jim

The Foundation -- The First Five Years

2010-03-25T12:48:00.000-07:00

Spoke at my own birthday this past month. Spoke for forty eight minutes. Know so, the group recorded it(tape minutes). Coincidence,one minute for each of my years of sobriety. Had notes to keep me from wandering, repeating myself and to cover any of my brain farts.

Identified for a few minutes , short version, then plunged right into the early days in the program. Never got out of the first five years. My growing up years. The years of developing a structure for the relationships with my Higher Power, with myself and with others.

The years of laying the foundation essential for my house of recovery. The formidable years with help from my HP and friends: meetings and 12 step calls; taking inventories and making amends; working my way through the legal, financial, relationship, employment, mental, spiritual, physical maze, and daily practice, practice, practice in living a life sober.

After the meeting I was approached by a newcomer who asked. "With all your years why did you keep returning time and again to the first five years?

Why? because they were the foundation years. The years of reconstruction, no scratch that, not "re" but new construction. They were the years of tearing down the old crumbling foundation and very carefully brick by brick laying a new foundation under the guidance of the Master Craftsman and the sponsor-ship of His hand picked journeymen.

I continue to hone the tools I was taught to use in the construction of that foundation. Some have been adapted to present technology I treasure them because they have served me in the best of times, in the worst of time and everything in between. They have weathered the test of time even when I have been at my weakest.

You all, present AAs included, have given me the gift-for-all-time and the realization that the gift will keep on giving if I assume the responsibility of daily doing my rounds of maintenance.

I wrote this and saved as draft last month. Not fresh, but I didn't find an expiration date on it.

Have a good one.

Jim

Sunny days are here again"

2010-03-24T12:36:00.000-07:00

Sun is shining ---beautiful beautiful beautiful!!!!! Suppose to rain tomorrow and you know what? Let it. I'm living in today and going to enjoy it to the hilt...gratefully.

After last week's teaser, just one day of sunshine and 60 degrees and this past weekend of freezing weather and snow it looks like Spring is going to settle in.

Went to Centering Prayer (meditation) at noon. There are now eight out the fourteen in the group that are in the program. The room was charged with spirituality. The saying "where two or more of you are gathered..." was alive and real.

After not posting anything for a few days I wanted to stop in and share my joy. This is short because I'm out of here and into all that beauty outside.

Hope you all are having a great day.

Jim

Burnt Out Ole Flame --55 Friday

2010-03-19T06:50:00.000-07:00

I sat there a burnt out hopeless and helpless old flame dying to be lit. Alone I failed so then in desperation I prayed that some greater power would strike the match.
I'm aflame now and glowing brightly thanks to the hand of God and all you matches, wicks, waxes, oxygens that sustain me today.

Jim

Joy and the Hum Drum

2010-03-16T08:31:00.000-07:00

After such an exhilarating weekend, despite the rain, cold and gray skies, it was back to normal. Well, maybe so, if you define normal as back to the ho-hum tasks of maintaining the house, paying bills, doing taxes, doing the dirty laundry and cleaning out the car from the weekend.

Normal wouldn't be normal though without something household breaking down. No disappointment here. The faucets in the kitchen sink and the dishwasher just stopped doing what faucets do or are suppose to do.

Not to be brought down, not even to normal I went to the noon meeting, always a upper. During the meeting I got to thinking about the title of yesterday's post (Joy & Tennis) and a poem I had written a while back.

My Joy is always present, in the normal as well as the extraordinary, the loud and the quiet, I only have to be still and tap into it. It all starts with gratitude for great friends, my (our) Higher Power, you all and a loving family. A thing of beauty.

Joy

A thing of beauty
divinely signed embraces
the human with
a blessing for all time.

The voice quivers.
A sigh of awe escapes.
Body and soul quickens
to the thrill inbound.
For in our dull tapestry of life
the brightest hue is found.

Deep into the marrow
every bone shivers under skin
as by a gentle touch
we're stroked within.

Hearts sing, souls soar
in divine harmony
here on this soil
and in that garden
beyond our toil.

Such happiness
this timeless moment.
Simple and pure
our vision cleared
for heart to see
the grandeur of
Divine love for human secure.

In moments brief
yet eternally dear
their brilliance crowned
in love and harmony
the soul clicks its heels
and bounds with joy.
james frederick m

Have a loving day.

Jim

Joy and Winning Tennis

2010-03-15T06:24:00.000-07:00

I was going to apologize about gloating over our triumph over the weekend. Well screw it! We Won! It's party time.

We beat the other four states: Louisiana, Arkansas, Georgia and South Carolina despite rain delays, alternate courts, flip-flopping schedules and Birmingham traffic. Serenity Prayer paid off big again. We made a clean sweep of all the matches.

Winning over South Carolina (winners the last five years) was like Boston beating New York! We got our T shirts and trophies but really the best part is---we've got bragging rights for one year!

It looks so pretty I just have to post it.
Southeastern Regional Champions-Super Seniors, 70+. (Tennessee)

No Disney World for us. We're sore, bushed and heading for the hot-tubs and liniment for the few days .........with the biggest doggone grins on our faces.

Must acknowledge the One who has made this all possible for us, me especially.
Thank you dear God.

Jim

P.S.
One more shot of gratitude and joy. Our eldest daughter, in from San Diego greeted me at the door when I got home.

God Help Me

2010-03-13T07:11:00.000-08:00

Evening started out terrible. At dinner, group talk ended up in political ranting. Of eight diners I was the only one with opposing ideology. When it turned ugly and they wanted me to join into the fray I backed off. No way, I learned long ago I don't have to go to every fight I'm invited to.

I had an escape plan for situations like this. Before leaving home I had called Central Office in Birmingham. On Map Quest I pulled up directions from the hotel to a meeting. Only fifteen miles away but out in the boonies. Great.

With an hour to spare I took off for the 8pm meeting. Just go out the entrance to the hotel and hang a left then fifteen miles later on the same road, no turns I would be there. A no brainer. Right. No! I got lost, it was pitch dark and no posted addresses on the fields and woods I passed.

Finally I called on my directional finder, GHM, (GOD Help Me). As I crested the hill and on my right I spotted a convenience store. The only only one in miles. I pulled off the side road and came in from the back. Man at front door was talking to a store clerk having a cigarette

I jumped out of the car, saw the address above the door and inquired "is this 16000 east Hwy 280? I'm looking for the 11000s. "

Before the clerk could answer the guy stopped me. "you looking for 11580?"

"Yah, yah 11580."

"We're lost too. Going to the same meeting."

We'hugged. The clerk stood there with her mouth open. The guy and his buddy, a couple of bikers were from Houston. Me, a broken down tennis player from Chattanooga. Both lost in the middle of Alabama nowhere, going to the same meeting.

The story doesn't end there. After getting lost together, we ran into a County Sheriff who directed us to the meeting in an old trailer behind a country church.

My GHM, (directional finder) has and will always, always get me to where I'm suppose to be going. If I call and follow up.

Jim

Super Senior Tennis, 70+ , 55 Flash Friday

2010-03-10T19:51:00.000-08:00

Heading for Alabama this weekend. The courts of Pelham beckon. Our strings are well strung, our legs a little less so. But we're coming to play, Seniors all, from the Seven Southeastern States. Who'll be the winner. That's a no-brainer. If we can suit up, last three days of tourney play, we're all winners.

JF

Promises

2010-03-08T04:28:00.000-08:00

They say the the next best thing to having either a boat or a pickup truck is to have a friend that has one. Our friends have both. Not just any boat, its a thirty-five (guess )footer decked out better than my house.

On the lake yesterday three of us couples laughed, hugged and grinned our way through just about a perfect afternoon. If we would have had enough room on deck we would have been doing a jig.

For the first time, since-can't-remember-when the sun was brilliant, the sky bright blue and cloudless. The temp was a Spring time perfect of sixty-one, the wind just strong enough to wash the last of winter off our faces. Yes!!!!!

God was His magnificent Self

We topped this off with a hearty meal of fried oysters and BBQ ribs afterward at the marina. . Talk about silly BBQ sauce dripping grins.

The real kicker was the friends, not any kind of friends but those special friends who have cried and laughed each other out of the pits of A&D hell.

All these ingredients together put a new meaning on "it doesn't get any better than this!"

Since it's Oscar time Ta-Da:
The afternoon was made possible through the grace of a Higher Power and a supporting cast of thousands in the Fellowship who have always been there for us.

Thank You

JF

Facing Fear-The Rest of the Story

2010-03-06T04:35:00.000-08:00

Hey, hey hey!
No return of the Cancer bug!!!!!!
Thanks for your prayers.

Been eight years as of Feb 28 from first diagnosis.
At that time they put me on female hormones. Took the shots just long enough to tweak my interest in "pumps". What really scared me was when traveling in Knoxville and lost I stopped and asked for directions. Relieved when they did radiation.

This past Monday my PSA numbers (blood test) indicated that the little monsters had awaken and were eating away somewhere in this Frenchman. The doctor ordered further tests.
On Thursday I went to the lab and took CT and Bone Scan tests. On Friday (yesterday) I went back to my doctor for results. The Scans indicated "all's well."

Yesterday before seeing my doctor I wrote about Harry Potter and his dance with fear. I think you see why I needed to do that post. I thought and feared the C monsters were in my "closet" licking their chops. Just waiting to devour me.

Between Monday and yesterday I dug into my private stock of "magic" you all have given me. I repeatedly prayed for the right attitude and turned it over to my HP. I put a lot of miles on the Serenity Prayer. I went to meetings, talked about it with friends, meditated and hugged my wife a lot.

The scans opened up my "closet" for the world (brought into the light of day) to see my innards from head to toe. I thought they were awesome and funny looking. My imagined monsters were changed into the everyman normal pouches and squiggles all keep in place by the skeleton in my closet.

love you all

JF

Facing Fear

2010-03-05T06:41:00.000-08:00

Harry Potter
Haven't read any of the books but caught a snippet of the TV adaptation the other night. Two scenes, back to back, were great metaphors for me in facing my fears.

The class professor instructed Harry and his school chums to stand in front of this huge cabinet. Each student was to conjure up his/her worst fear. When they did so the imagined fear would throw open the door and leap out. The fears took on the appearance of huge monsters and deadly snakes. Each time the student(s) was petrified with shear fright.

Then the professor would ask the student to imagine in their mind the most ridiculous funny outfit then dress the monster in it. Immediately the monster was seen in a clown outfit/painted face or in some outlandish dress. In disbelief the student and his chums would immediately break out in laughter and dismiss the "monstrous fear" as completely ridiculous.

My greatest fears can be reduced to the ridiculous with the same mind that conjured up the fear.

The other scene was of the monster-bird. His body was that of a horse with wings. His head was that of an enormous bird. His beak could crush Harry or one of his chums in a single closing.
Harry was instructed by the professor to approach the monster and hand-feed him.

At first Harry was reluctant, obviously afraid to take the risk even though the professsor assured Harry that if his intentions were pure the monster would not harm him.

Harry proceeded to do so and the winged monster bird not only did not harm Harry, but placed Harry on his back and took off. Monster and boy soared high into the sky giving Harry the thrill of his life. The view of the mountains and sky were awesome. He had flown where no one else had.

If I take the risk and face my greatest fears there is no limit to how high I can soar.

JF

Everything But Roadkill

2010-03-05T05:45:00.000-08:00

First attempt at 55 Flash Friday

Busy week
Up, down the highway
Chattanooga to Nashville
Not once, twice.
Seven hundred miles
Once business
Once pleasure
Mountains, rivers, dams
Evergreens, gray forests
Snow, rain, sunshine,
Day, night.
Trucks, cars, RVs, SUVs, with
without TVs.
Cars stalled, flagged, semi flipped,
wheels flaying sky
Irritated drivers cursing delay
Country music , jazz, rock,
roll on.

JF

Opryland

2010-03-02T15:05:00.000-08:00

I attended another Alcohol/Drug convention at Opryland in Nashville. Nashville, the Music City, the home of Country Music. Actually you couldn't forget it while you're there. This is a place where every waiter and waitress in every eatery are aspiring writers, musicians and singers.

Enough of the commercial and getting back to Opryland. In a word it is huge, all in the Southern motif and customs. Especially the way it is laid out, even security when asked for directions calls in another employee to help them. The southern part comes in when they give directions. They never refer to the "street" by name. They will tell you to go that-a-way till you come to the this corner or that then take a left an go on down till you see the big fountain then ......you get the drift.

Mix in a few hundred alcoholics/addicts and each one had a bigger and more dramatic story about how they got lost, couldn't find their rooms, pasted up a gillion bars until finally their higher power guided them down this one unused corridor. There they ran into the only person in the hotel complex who knew how to get them to safety.

I exaggerate, but not much.
Wrote this to get back on stream with my posting. Its been a busy week with lot of travel time, but I've been in excellent company from all over the States.

JF

Loving and Loveable

2010-02-21T11:11:00.001-08:00

Coming out of the noon meeting yesterday an old friend (MF) in the program asked me to lunch. along with several others. I declined their invite since they had selected a eatery across town and I had an appointment at two. No way to go back and forth.

I was surprised when he turned to them and said. "I'm not going with y'all, I'm going across the street with Jim for a hamburger."

MF is a much decorated Vietnam veteran (helicopter gunner) who came by his sobriety the hard way. Besides fighting his way out of the jungles in Asia, the web of addiction to heroin and alcohol he has also had to fight through a post traumatic mental jungle as a result of those wars.

As we sat down with our sandwiches I noticed his eyes beginning to well up with tears. Not touching his hamburger he began to pour out his grief. "The bastard killed her. She was beautiful, a golden retriever. The bastard didn't have the guts to confront me let alone kill my girl himself. No he knew how he could really hurt me. We've been together eleven years. She knew me. But most important, she really loved me. She put up with me through good and bad."

"Yah, even though we both were sometimes a pain in the ass to each other, we loved and trusted each other. We were always there for each other."

The tears, his grief, his depth of love, I hugged him. This "hard ass real dope addict/alcoholic" was/is what this new way of life is all about. It's not just taking the booze and the dope addiction away its about "Changing someone unlovable and unloving into someone lovable and loving."

P.S. You've probably already guessed, MF is one of those special people who would and does go to any lenght to help another alcoholic/addict.

MF's dog was killed in a senseless drive-by shooting paid for by a resentful doper/alcoholic.

JF

New Pair of Eyes

2010-02-19T14:56:00.001-08:00

Went to team-tennis practice this am. We're practicing for the Southeast Regional Tournament, Birmingham in March. We enter the tourney as the Tennessee State champs in the 75 y/o class.
Sounds great, it is but at our age it quite literally means that we were the last team standing.

Other than "hitting" Monday this was the first time playing for two hours. The eyes are taking some getting use to. I had cataract surgery during January. It takes a month to heal. I can now see the ball again. It appears to be smaller with a distinct form, no halo around it.

I'm afraid my best shots are gone. By that I mean the lucky ones I put back. My best shots were those I couldn't see with my old eyes; the ball in the sun or it clearing the net. Have to rely mostly on skill now and won't have any excuses.

Reminds me of when I began this new life. I no longer could cover my "shots" with bulls**t and lame excuses. Had to belly up to the bar and admit I was responsible for my mistakes, poor judgement or poor execution.

It also made me note how I had become "comfortable" and had made so many adjustments for my lack of vision. I was willing to go on squinting and missing so much in life forever. Kept denying I needed the operation. Wouldn't admit it but fear entered and I dug in my heels. I blamed it on "I'm not that bad, I don't have the time, or...and " Must admit I needed to be and was intervened on.

Now that I've put the new lids to the test I'm reminded that I'll never be too young/old to take the leap of faith or go to any length to improve my (in)sight.
No, no matter how much I fear the operation.

JF

Willingness to Take Action

2010-02-17T07:09:00.000-08:00

"If one thing changes every thing changes..."

That a cue for me. To be willing to get off my butt and do.... Knowing full well from experience that obstacles have become manageable, mountains have been reduced to mole hills, calls have been made and old destructive behavior can be changed.

In a group I'm in, one of the men shared that he added another line to the Serenity Prayer, not that it needed improving but he needed to consciously pray for the willingness to take action. To be willing to take the risk, willing to put in the time, willing to forgive, to be compassionate or to make that amend.

So now he has all of us tacking on the the phrase.

"God grant me the serenity...the courage...the wisdom
...and the willingness to take action.

JF

"Hero's Journey"

2010-02-16T05:50:00.000-08:00

Cold, when is it going to end? Can't wait for Spring to to poke its green sprouts up through the earth. Its crazy that its colder in Atlanta than here. Still doesn't make any difference I pray for the sun to return.

I know I should be grateful, instead of praying for the sun I should be praying that I will "accept the things I can not change." I am, but I'm still cold.

Went to the monthly meeting of the Joseph Campbell Roundtable last night. Always interesting, new faces and new ideas every time. Campbell, now dead lives on in all his writings about myth and the "hero's journey." He sticks to the hero who faces his fears head on, slays dragons, fights his way through adversity, rescues damsels and in the end find his true self.

The speaker last night took us on his journey. A journey that took him through self imposed homelessness on the island of Hawaii (excellent choice), , books on philosophy, psychology, self help etc, etc. for several years until he found his bliss.

Before returning home in Chattanooga he found his bliss by finding the Higher Power and letting go of his ego. He went on about praying and meditating to get a clearer awareness of the will of his HP and then getting out of himself and giving of himself to others. By putting all of what he had prayed for and learned into action.

Sound familiar, why not, that's what recovery is all about, following our bliss. However if I don't put what I've learned into action it don't count. I've got to walk the walk.

P.S. As I listened to him I must confess I was a bit envious of his gaining all that experience in Hawaii. Then I realized before coming to the program what a waste Hawaii would have been since I carried my own personal hell with me wherever I went.

JF

True Self

2010-02-15T08:13:00.000-08:00

Did some Proprioceptive Writing this morning, candle and all. I say a little prayer before I start, as I always do. Liked the one phrase.

"Give me freedom to grow so that I may become my true self.
...the fulfillment of the seed which you planted in me at my making."

It hit home, it got me reflecting and writing upon where my focus should be in order to cooperate with His plan.

I wrote that what ever it was, I needed to hone my skills. I needed to practice, practice. practice. To be ready for the master craftsman to pick me up and use me. But most importantly to embrace and accept my skills. To look inside, to suck it up, not let my pride shame me into being afraid of failure or inadequacy. Even worse to believe myself to being so unique that I had to hold back.

Whatever I have today is the accumulation of all the steps we have taken together in my journey to date. I am the product of all my yesterdays. I can be of help. Mine is a unique help regardless of how long I have been on the journey. If I have been faithful to living one day at a time and praying for His will, not mine then I can not deny nor can I be a coward nor too proud and hold back.

The new comer as well as the old timer has his/her role to play. Our Master Craftsman has a purpose for each one of His/Her's unique tools.

I have to remember I may be the only Big Book someone can read.

Love ya

Jim

It's A God Thing

2010-01-30T06:21:00.000-08:00

If only we knew what the Master Weaver is up to in designing our lives. Yesterday I presented a seven year chip to a special friend, SC. in the program.

Unknown to us our intertwining paths began over thirty years ago. He was just a high-schooler growing up in California, while I had just accepted a new job and was moving my family from Ohio into Tennessee.

After a several months of searching for a new home we were fortunate to drive by a house as the contractor was taking lifting a "for sale" sign out of his pickup. We pulled in and he put down the sign. We walked through the house, loved it and immediately started negotiations. We moved in the first of August,1977.

Soon afterward while attending our new church my wife and I met a young couple. At church they had their two beautiful young daughters. As our lives changed we grew apart.

Now fast forward to 2002 and twenty five years later. This was the year that I met SC while at an AA meeting here in Tennessee. Later SC began counseling with me to repair the "unmanageable" circumstances in his life caused by his addiction. SC progressed well, growing spiritually and going on to "graduate school" while fully engaged in his "practice".

As his history became known to me, I was delighted and surprised to learn that after his move here to Tennessee he met and married one of "those beautiful daughters" and that they now had children of their own.

A few weeks ago SC by chance discovered that his friend wanted to sell his house. SC also wanted to move into a larger house. They immediately started negotiations with all parties coming to agreement. To both SC's and my delight on February 8, SC will be moving into the house next door.

Thank You for Your Will and the many gifts It brings into our lives.

JF

Fellowship

2010-01-28T16:36:00.000-08:00

Going through old files and came across this poem written in the sixties.
The poem is kinda crude but then again so was I. Brings back memories of the first couple of years in sobriety. We had it all, we had just what we needed; God, the program and each other.
I love it.

In each of you I see a friend.
One whose friendship knows no end.
Just for today I will try to be,
to others what you are to me.

You stopped and turned and took my hand
and steadied me till I could stand.
Then let go my fingers one by one
till I could stand alone.

You did not say to me do this
be thus but quite simply
walk with us

I tried and when I lifted up
my eyes could see
that same vision which had made you free

We'll walk together now
a pleasant band
that waits for me
if I should fill my hand

with trembling fingers of someone
whose spirit must also break or bend
and teach them softly
what it means to have and be a friend.

so just for today I will let others see
what each of you had done for me.

Spiritual Awakening & Patience

2010-01-26T07:56:00.000-08:00

In A Path With Heart, Jack Koenfield, writes about the Eight Qualities of Mature Spirituality Of the eight patience stands out as the most most difficult to achieve in my quest for a spiritual awakening.

Early on in recovery I was told by the group. "Be patient, the promise of a spiritual awakening is based on a result of certain steps, its a journey, a process, you'll get it, it takes time. Don't expect it to happen by a simple palm slap on the forehead in a evangelical moment."

They went on. "Sorry there are no short cuts. You're not special. You will have to take all the necessary Steps to get there. The awakening will enfold without you being fully conscious of it. Others will see it in you before you become aware of it. Besides if you got it with the snap of your fingers you wouldn't appreciate it."

That was all well and good but I wanted to feel good and experience peace and relief as a constant in my life not just for a few moments at a time. I wanted it right now and to be there whenever I wanted it. I wanted to be able to "think" it into my life, not have it dependent on any "action" on my part.

Not getting my childish way I had to begin to get in touch with all my shortcomings and defects of character. Then commit to giving them up; to unlearn the old ways by learning (practicing) the new ways. I was told that the only way to enter into a new way of life was to face the consequences and secret underlying issues of my old life.

It would "take what it takes" or more specifically in "God's good time, not mine." In my case the journey took the better part of five years. One great thing is that once on the path the "steps" are paved with spiritual experiences.

The following story from the play Zorba the Greek, Zorba tells of his own lesson in patience and I believe it to be a fitting metaphor for patience in recovery.

I remembered one morning when I discovered a cocoon in the bark of a tree just as the butterfly was making a hole in its case and preparing to come out. I waited awhile but it was too long appearing and I was impatient.

I bent over it and breathed on it to warm it. I warmed it as quickly as I could and the miracle began to happen before my eyes, faster than life. The case opened. the butterfly slowly crawling out, and I shall never forget my horror when I say how its wings were folded back and crumpled; the wretched butterfly tried with its whole trembling body to unfold them.

Bending over it, I tried to help it with my breath. In vain. It needed to be hatched out patiently and the unfolding of the wings needed to be a gradual process in the sun. Now it was too late. My breath had forced the butterfly to appear, all crumpled, before its time. It struggled desperately and, a few seconds later, died in the palm of my hand.

JF

Fear

2010-01-23T14:29:00.000-08:00

Up at 4:30a the other morning. Thank God the weather had changed from teens to near forty. The order from the doctor said. "no food or drink after midnight." It's almost inhuman to wake up an start the day without coffee. Had to hurry to be at the surgery center by 6:00a.

Now I'm old enough to know that they always have you arrive early. Having to retain some control I it was impossible for me to do anything other than arrive at exactly 6; actually it was 6:01 when I signed in. Even though I "just had to"arrive at the ordered time I brought a book to serve as my security blanket; one I knew I wouldn't be able to finish in a day of waiting.

As the little hand on the clock approached eight and the big hand the 12 I began to lose it. I could only sooth my fright of needles and IVs for so long. I no longer could focus on my reading and even the Serenity prayer began to show wear and tare . Meditation in the pass has always worked but to close my eyes and attempt to meditate would only allow my mind to conjure up all kinds of scary thoughts and fears.

Finally my name came up. I was ushered into the "prep room". The "prep' was not pretty. The nurse could not find any plump veins to, as they say "stick me" . Three nurses and several "near sticks" later this grown man, nearly in tears finally sighed relief. The ensuing "op" was a piece of cake, since I had no choice but let them put me "under."

The crazy thing about the surgery is that I absolutely did not feel any pain nor any other sensation. Yet all the while I could hear what they were saying. For the op to be successful they needed me responsive to cooperate with their directions.

For the next twenty four hours I had to wear a "patch", it was clear plastic but with all the tape and "goop" in my eye everything appeared to be hazy as if in a fog. The following day the doctor removed the patch and my vision (abet in still a bit of a haze) was better than before the operation. With each passing twenty-four hours I can see now farther and clearer. A miracle.

In retrospect the eye operation was like so many other things in my life that I have to face to grow and get healthier. I commit to an "operation", taking a leap of faith, knowing that I will reach a new and healthier plateau. I get impatient with the process and God's timing. My fear of how it will hurt; having to give up control ; to surrender to a higher power and follow directions is almost unbearable.

But I can always fall back on having talked to friends I could trust tell me. "I was scared not only of the pain but what if something went wrong or the operation didn't work. I need not have worried the worst pain I felt was the fear of the unknown and my own fear of pain ....and I did that to myself. You can trust me I've been there, I don't know how it works but I can now see things that I never could see before."
I also continue to keep on praying.

JF

Balance vrs Juggling Priorities

2010-01-21T07:57:00.000-08:00

I've been wanting to post these last few days but life kept getting in the way. I'm on a timetable about cleaning up sections of my book and attending to other priorities so I've had to rearrange some of my priorities.

Back in the eighties I looked eagerly ahead to early retirement from industry. I wanted to completely change careers. I felt I had survived, not without scars, all of the pitfalls in chasing financial and ego security. I yearned for something else, something more fulfilling so two years before that gold watch date I began studying for a certification in relapse prevention counseling.

Under Terrance Gorski, founder of CENAPS, the center for relapse prevention training and certification I attained certification. According to Terry relapse begins to occur long before the alcoholic takes the first drink. Actually the drink is the event at the end of a relapse. Our relapses begin with our stinking thinking followed by self destructive behavior the leads us further and further down the spiral into that point of no return; drink, act out destructively or suicide. The important thing is be aware of our personal relapse warning signs in order to catch our relapsing early or before the event happens.

I've said all that to point out that I learned that striving to maintain balance in my live was a key factor in preventing relapse in my life. I also know that as a addict/alcoholic the hardest thing for me to do is maintain an equilibrium. My first tenancy even to this date is to approach things addictively to the neglect of others and other things in my life. Especially those things that boost my ego such as blogging.

Whenever I catch myself in that addictive web I have to reevaluate my life based on the HALT criteria of hungry, angry, lonely and tired and then do an honest evaluation of my daily schedule.

P.S. No matter that I've counseled many professionally and sponsored many in the program, being the addictive person that I am I have to practice not falling off my balance bar daily. Thankfully over the years when I have lost my balance I've been able to reach out for help before falling all the way down the spiral. I'm also thankful that I only have to maintain that balance one day at a time no matter how much I learn or how long I live.

JF

Gaggle in My Head

2010-01-16T12:37:00.000-08:00

In our clubroom there is a blackboard listing the up and coming birthdays for the month. My birth-date will be added to the list in a couple of weeks. The thought of another year got me to thinking.

New Years Day and my first day of continuous sobriety both mark a new beginning. A beginning and a promise of new adventures, disappointments, grief, happiness; you know the whole basket of life's goodies and badies and inbetweens. I know there really are no stand alone goodies or badies .......just life in technicolor.

I also thought of early recovery when my mind was loaded down with a crazy gaggle of voices. They screamed at me during the first few months to continue acting out insanely. I was/am thankful that beneath the ranting voices there were new-to-me barely audible voices of encouragement to behave differently.

I pleaded with my sponsors to tell me how to get free;to be able to shut down the "ranting" voices once and for all. The cold water in my face was their reply, "No way, those voices will always be with you, waiting in the swamp end of your little head. You'll be okay you'll develop the tools to keep them quiet and send them back when they surface. Your life in recovery will be a process not an event."

I realized that there would be no instant gratification here; that the day I took my last drink, that was an event; the event that marked the start of my journey. The days and years between the dates would be a well-traveled path into sobriety/spiritual growth; I also would be given the grace to walk it one day at a time.

I'm grateful its a process and that I don't have to be held accountable for perfection. Only yesterday when reviewing a strategy for publishing my book with my agent the crazy gaggle of voices began to emerge out of the swamp. I was being bombarded by them with snide remarks like: "not good enough"; "nobody will read it"; publisher will laugh" or "who the hell do you think you are?" as well as other loving bits of encouragement.

Over the course of my sobriety I've developed a go-to plan when in trouble. I went immediately to my Higher Power then to my basic spiritual first aid kit. I love that kit because I can depend on it to put my demons in their place and to get back on the high road sober/sane for another day.

To me the most encouraging of words by the the crafters of the 12 Steps remain: "...God could and would if He were sought." ("money in the bank") and "...we are not saints...progress (no matter how long it takes) rather than perfection."

JF

The Quotes Have It

2010-01-13T05:36:00.000-08:00

We've all heard the quote. "You can't solve a problem with the same mind that created the problem... "

That's why they advise us to avoid thinking in early recovery because we also admit, "my best thinking got me here." Here being to that place where our lives are unmanageable and we can't for the life-of-it figure out how we're going to get out of the mess we've created.

The saying " it'll takes a few (3-5) years to get your head out of hock" ties in to the fact that we not only have to learn the steps to take into our new way of life; we have to unlearn the old destructive addictive ways. We have to change our thinking but "we can't think our way into right living, we have to act our way into right thinking."

In the old way, the addictive way we broke all the rules. Another often heard saying. "Hey man, rules are for losers...I got my own." Of course that is the ego talking, either from a deflated or an inflated position. The ego needs to have the answers, it has to be able to figure it out, no matter how shitty the logic.

Cutting to the chase the new way is the spiritual way which leads me to another quote, this one out of the Big Book. ..."we will intuitively know what to do..." We don't have to figure it out, we just have to pray, meditate, seek counsel if necessary and "do the next thing." We just have to turn our will over to our Higher Power and listen to the guidance from those (sponsors, etc) who are further up the path in recovery.

I''ll end with one last quote from Shadow Dance by David Richo. "Nothing is to be taken literally in the spiritual world. All is a metaphor for the transition from the ego to Self, the personal journey to the transpersonal Source." The transition out of my will to my Higher Power's Will occurs through the practice of the Eleventh Step to my personal "conscious contact with God."

JF

Asking for Help

2010-01-12T04:36:00.000-08:00

Woke up this morning feeling like a new man. The weather forecast called for a warming trend, always great for me because it can't get hot enough for me. That's why I moved from Illinois via Michigan and Ohio to Tennessee. I always felt like I was born in the wrong temperature zone.

When I'm out running in mid-day in 100 degree sunshine the neighbors all think I'm out of my gourd. I need heat and sunlight for all the "parts"to function, to move, to smile and to feel optimistic. Cold and dark have the opposite effect on me.

I've said all that to come to the point. When I'm "into my damped down days" I "pull back and isolate". Since I have become an expert on pulling back and isolating I can do so without others, and most importantly myself, nailing me on it.

My first warning sign of relapsing into isolation is my neglecting to update a current weekly schedule. It generally starts out with: "cutting back" or "putting off till later"meditation and prayer time; I'll catch a meeting tomorrow; I'll call him later; its too cold to run, exercise or go to the "Y"." In other words putting all the core things for my sobriety on the back burner or canceling them all together.

Cheating on the core activities"action" in my life contaminates the whole of my life. My life feels like I'm running in slow motion without any purpose. I neglect my relationships, my life is backed up in things not done and things to do. My life takes on all the trappings of being unmanageable and when it becomes overwhelming I'm in deep do-do.

The insidious part of it all is that it's so evident. Being the master of denial and rationalization and procrastination that I am I can bullshit myself into believing I'm handling everything as best I can. I'm on top of it and yes I'll start doing it differently tomorrow.

Thank God I can start today, this very minute, by surrendering and yes, lordy-lordy the hardest thing to do, asking for help.

And to make out and follow through with a balanced recovery schedule.

JF

No Lifetime Guarantee

2010-01-09T12:22:00.001-08:00

Well here it is the ninth of January and I haven't posted anything since New Years day. Been off the radar, either going to/from or waiting in doctors offices for testing and probing. Looking back over the past five plus months it's hard to believe two people in such great health could rack up two surgeries, several lab visits and over a dozen doctor visits.

I'm sure that I was suppose to learn something from all the visits. Could it have been patience and faith. Patience in that I could look at the the waiting as an opportunity to catch up on my reading and writing. Faith to believe that the doctor was really in.

All the visits/surgeries were due to "parts" wearing out, obsolete or becoming less than efficient due to aging. They don't all come with a life-time guarantee. The comment from the several different doctors we visited was. "Not to worry you're in excellent condition, you'll probably live to celebrate your 100th." God that sounds old.

As it is now as soon as I get my "new" set of eyes, (Cataract surgery), the set God created me with were always clouding up on me, especially in the sunlight. I finally got the message in December when I whiffed a couple of forehands playing tennis.

Gratitude for: insurance; the promise of "improved" eyesight; no pain; the wonder of a "new pair of eyes" in just a few weeks and a wife who has patiently "nursed" me through it.

I did miss was the posting and especially your comments.

love you
JF

Happy New Year.

2010-01-01T12:33:00.000-08:00

Last night my wife and I went to two New Year's Eve Parties.
The first was a mix of long time friends in the program just a couple of miles away. After the making the rounds, sampling the food , hugging and shaking hands wishing everybody a Happy New Year. We made an early exit quickly passing through the "guys room" and the bowl game of the day.

Hitting the interstate and no traffic we made our way to the second party of the night. It took forty five minutes and unfamiliar back roads to reach our destination. This party had "partying people, half of which were in their thirties. No, there was no booze, only one couple, family friends of the host, were drinking. It's just that there was a lot of energy and game playing ignited by the younger crowd.

It all was capped off with fireworks at Midnight. Again we had to leave early, but had not missed any of the fun.

At both parties were old and new friends, no regrets the next morning just warm feelings of sharing the beginning of another year with friends we love and who love us.

To all of you I wish the same for the coming year.

Wanted to post this to as we

JF

APORIA

2009-12-31T07:26:00.000-08:00

This Yuletide I received a number of books as gifts. But the best present of all was Aporia that I received by Royal Mail from my English friend and exciting author, Sarah Turton, aka Selchie.

My taste in books ranges all over the map: from the contemporary to the historical; fiction to non-fiction; political to farce; tearjerker to humorous and comical and especially the spiritual that stir the imagination and creativity. I love to be invited to see the world, "purple shaggy cows and all"through a different pair of eyes. Aporia is all of these, it's a feast and I'm only half way through.

Thank you Sarah

JF

Wings Of Life

2009-12-28T04:18:00.000-08:00

Found this poem in my archives the other day and decided to dust it off. Certainly I'm the product of all my yesterdays and the early years, one through twenty eight, were the "fill dirt" necessary in preparation for the foundation of building my new way of life. It clearly was the "what it was like" however I found myself writing a poem that represents the "what happened and what I'm like now."

By late twenties,
my life in tatters,
ego wings shorn bare
by the constant hacking of
addiction's cold blade...
a slithering caterpillar
I became,
heaving and scuffling across
life's stony ground....then..

in early thirties,
crawled into bondage,
a humbled hostage,
mired in a casing
crafted from the soiled fabric
of my past.

Time did pass and
in late thirties
released from murky darkness
tasting freedom's light,
by God's good grace
was gifted wings
set free
at long last took flight.

In my forties and fifties
letting complacency slip in
the light flickered and dimmed.
No longer did I see clearly.
Caterpillar, cocoon and butterfly
all but disappeared..but lo and behold
in their stead across my sight
two intimidating birds
took flight.

A hawk, dauntless and bold
circled high in the sunlit sky
keenest of eye, deadliest beak,
flight swift and sure.
Then in the blink of an eye
I saw yet another bird.
An owl, crafty old hunter,
head horned, eyes fierce,
moonlight drenched, so wise,
so focused and cunning.
So now twice feathered
flexing sharp talons and
hunting wings
my mind darted this and that
stalking my fortune.

Then in my sixties and beyond
when I pause I hear
the voice within my soul declare.
Yes, at times you've been
caterpillar, cocoon, butterfly,
hawk, owl and ..more.
But now..now
aglow in life's twilight
on wings tempered
by all these
I see a peaceful old bird
soaring in the wind.
james frederick m

JF

Christmas Leftovers

2009-12-25T09:40:00.000-08:00

Merry Second Day of Christmas.
I started this post yesterday early in the am before family arrived. But as all well laid plans of mice and men I didn't get to complete and post until now, Saturday evening. Since I stated this yesterday I won't start over from scratch. Hope you're not sick of holiday leftovers because you're getting some now.

Ta-Da!

Merry Christmas and Blessings to all of you on this and all your days.
I've been busy the last couple of days enjoying friends and family. Although not Episcopalians we went to Episcopal Services last night; our closest friends were there. All and all ti was an hour and a half of wondrous music, song and celebration. Add in the candles lining the main aisle and surrounding the altar, the Poinsettias, priest , choir , nativity scene and friends it took me back to the magnificent Catholic Midnight-Mass of my youth .

I grew up in a little town just south of Chicago. The town was primarily a French-Catholic community. Our parish like the Italian, Polish, Jewish, Greek and Irish parishes the church and schools were the center of each parish. The sermons as well everyday communication within the various families was in the mother-tongue. The teachers in our schools for all the grades were French Nuns from Quebec.

Having given you a little background, if you may, join me for the frosting on those midnight Christmas cakes; the crisp winter air on the two block walk with family to Mass. Snow piled high on each side of the walk, the mystery and enchantment of the deep dark winter night, the Latin mass, God as baby and the Virgin birth. The thrill of not having any answers nor having any need for the answers to what the evening contained.

It was the awe and the mystery that was the cherry on top of the icing for this little boy. As a boy my imagination was like the freshly fallen snow untouched for that enchanting time before the thaw and dirt covered slush of age.

Today by walking the walk with you hand-in-hand through the years on my over four and a half decade spiritual journey I have been given the grace of reconnecting with the awe and mystery of this, the God of my understanding. Just like the little boy of my youth I don't have the answers and the beauty of it I don't have to have any answers.

Thank God for I'm still in awe of the mystery of how an alcoholic who is incapable of giving or receiving love can become lovable and loving.

JF

The Gate Of The Year

2009-12-21T05:38:00.000-08:00

Yesterday my wife and I finished off the last of our Christmas and year end/start greeting cards. Inserted in each card is a short letter bringing our friends and relatives up to date of the blessings we have received during the year.

The following is a short version of the letter.

Our blessings have been many but the most significant ones in our lives are:

Our special friends in AA and other groups of old friends who have seen each other through the bitter and better in our lives. To realize how loving their help and support has been we have been in recovery 47 years.

We have a belief in a Higher Power and the means to grow spiritually through AA, Alanon, Recovering Couples Anonymous, spiritual growth group and weekly contemplative prayer groups.

We are in good health. Both of us are active in sports, tennis and other. Even so our Medicare cards show signs of age related wear and tare.

We have been together for 56 years; fantastic since there were times when we didn't think it would last 5 or 6 more days (hours/minutes).

I have found writing, poetry and blogging with coaching and support from Cyn (she is an ex professional writer and teacher).

We try to give back what we have received (never catch up): me, in volunteer board participation, chemical dependency treatment and writer guild; Cyn by continuing to see clients in office each week and we in our recovery groups.

Family is the icing on our cake, they are what makes it all worthwhile. In our lives we have children, grand-children, great-grandchildren. All except our oldest in San Diego are within a an two hour drive from us.

I have shared in this post with all of you our blessings because there was a time in our lives when we were lost and wouldn't have given you two cents for it. It was only through your help, a compassionate Higher Power and in spite of ourselves that the promises have come true.

We ended the letter with this quote by Louise Haskins from King George's 1939 address to his people.

The Gate of the Year
"I said to the man who stood at the Gate of the Year, "Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown. And he replied," Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be better than light and safer than the known way."

Merry Christmas from Tennessee, 2009, we wish everyone a peaceful, blessed and healthy new year.

JF

The Newcomer

2009-12-19T10:19:00.000-08:00

My thought for today. Hey I had one! So I thought I better write it down.

My friend and I look forward to each day because we share common blessings. We agree that most days we're like kids on Christmas morning. Okay everyday is not Christmas but we still get gifts and we act like kids tearing the everyday wrappings off.

Now and then we receive a special gift. They most often bear no resemblance to a gift. The gifts we're talking about and cherish the most are usually the one's clothed in shame or/and guilt, loneliness or/and fear, that try to hide their nakedness and denial with a tattered ego. These gifts are the newcomer.. and especially the newcomer within us. We call the newcomers, gifts, for that is what they are to us. Gifts.

We agree that it's our Higher Power's way of presenting to us the very person or the shadow of ourselves' we need in order to learn something new; The timing is always right and it's always valuable. He nails it every time. We never need to exchange it. It's always a perfect fit or just what we need.

We also agree that the best of them all: are the gifts that are attending their first meetings:that call on us late at night; when we would rather not be bothered; we think they would be better off if some one else carried the message to them or they are most troublesome, demanding a lot of our energy and time . This last category of gifts are really special......they usually are the gifts that truly keep-on-giving.

Keep them coming God, I mean the newcomer, both in the flesh and in the shadow. It's the way we can become the person You created us to be.

JF

God, You pick em up.....

2009-12-18T02:09:00.000-08:00

Where I live it's all hills so from the moment I leave my front door I have to begin the first of a number of climbs. Of the five miles, half the run is uphill. Over the years the strain on body has gotten more difficult, so as my legs have lost their youthful spring I have come to focus more and more on the mantra.
God , You pick em up, I'll lay them down.

It's my favorite mantra next to, Not my will but Yours be done and the Serenity Prayer. The three prayers are the core of my life; they are the "truth" of my daily existence. On a daily basis I pray all three: in traffic; in relationships; for coping with any number of global and personal happenings; for doing the things I don't want to do. The things in my life can be big , small, aggravating, pleasurable or even mundane.

For the most part the Serenity Prayer and Turning My Will Over serve me well. However it's the times when everything looks uphill and I've just about run out of steam that I find myself also praying to God to pick them up. The times I speak of are when I am at the end of my rope and have allowed HALT (Hungry, Angry, Lonely and Tired) into my life.

The common denominator for me is the assurance that like breathing, God's breath enters my lungs, my part is to exhale.

The picture is Roger Bannister, he broke the four minute mile, the quote or prayer is sometimes attributed to him

JF

Put A Cork In It.

2009-12-11T14:51:00.000-08:00

This has been some kind of a week. Lot of unexpected but necessary changes to my daily schedule. Talked to a friend of mine and his wife. We all agreed it's a bit of a bitch playing the back nine of our lives. Yet we are all very grateful. We're all still very active, with tennis, the Y, family, friends, writing and living each day to its fullest in spite of being interrupted by visits to doctors and hospitals.

Yes we're all healthy in mind body and spirit. No doubt about it, we are. However the various body parts if not failing are showing wear and tear. No complaints (okay. hardly any), it's a given something has got to hurt if you've come this far around the course. It's not the amount of doctor's appointments nor how they probe and prescribe. No, the glitch is the time spent filling out the forms and subjected to the blasting TV in the waiting room.

Sounds like we're complaining. Not really. We feel so damn grateful that we can access such good health care. That we have Medicare and that we can afford the secondary coverage so that we don't have to go without food and other essentials or sell the house to pay the bills.

Now that I've got that off my chest it reminds me of the story of the guy on the airplane.

From the moment he sat in his seat he complained about: the line through security; then the wait for the flight seating; the wait of fifteen minutes on the tarmac for take-off and now he was bitching about the lousy few minutes he had to wait for Internet connection so he could make his call to his business partner 3000 miles away.

As the volume of his irritation increased he became unbearably loud and obnoxious. The man sitting next to him had had enough so he turned to him saying.

Put a cork in it.... Here you are sitting in a chair 30,000 feet in the air, traveling over 500miles an hour, and you're bitching about the few minutes you have to wait to call and talk to your partner 3000miles away?

I need (no, cross that out) I choose to daily "put a cork in it", and be grateful to God that I have the best "coverage" ,( that no one can take away from me), except me, for the disease that can destroy and/or kill me.

JF

Something to Learn Everyday

2009-12-05T08:05:00.000-08:00

Woke up to a beautiful morning. Should say special. Everything is laced in over an inch of fresh fluffy snow. Actually I can savor the beauty ( it's in the thirties now) knowing it all will be melted by mid morning with the temperature in the fifties.

Having lived in most of the Midwestern states until the late seventies I moved here to the south to escape the over-my-head snow drifts, the cold and the dirty, slushy thaws.

A couple of years after moving here the area received a 12 inch plus snowfall with the temperature below freezing for several days afterwords. With all traffic at a standstill (no plows down here) and most industries, all schools closed there was nothing else to do but sit back and enjoy it.

Ha, except for all the neighborhood kids. They were out with makeshift cardboard and plastic bag sleds as we have plenty of hills here in southeast Tennessee. Seeing this I put on my "mothballed northern thermal underwear, gloves, etc" and pulled the three man toboggan down from the garage attic.

From my driveway there is a quarter of a mile downhill straightaway with no traffic.... perfect! The moment the kids saw the toboggan I was their hero. They knew immediately that it was a sled of sorts even though they had never seen a toboggan before. They inspected it like the invention of the century and asked me what it was. I said, "toboggan."

They all laughed; thought I was kidding. "Nah, what is it really called mister?" I repeated, "toboggan," then I caught on. Here in southeast Tennessee they call a winter cap a toboggan.
Having cleared that up they proceeded to wear me out pulling the toboggan back up that hill all day with only a short break for lunch.

I learned something that day from those kids. One man's (kid's) cap may be another man's sled, but that's OK. No matter what you call it, we can agree to put aside our differences, learn from each other and have a ball doing it.

Sorry, but I guess great memories never grow old.

JF

Hallowed Place

2009-12-02T14:52:00.000-08:00

Hi all
In life's madness it's great to have your own special place,
safe with peace and joy knowing you're special
to your Higher Power.
Here's mine.

Canyon Run

It all started with an easy stretch,
my first steps slow,
legs and torso not quite awake.
Then as if on queue I quickened the pace
from straightaway to climb
as muscles and joints did what they do.

With jog giving birth to sprint,
I settled into a rhythmic stride
through prickly forest, with coyotes,
snakes, ass and deer
haunting my heels.
Exposed, alone, my meager guile
and swiftness put to the test
I felt a humbled guest with
no more than flimsy threads
hiding my nakedness.

The path wound back and forth
over and across the winding creek.
Under foot earth and scrub
all crackling dry,
stones at times sharp,
at times slick and round
the only water flowing,
rivulets from my brow.

Upward, upward with shortened stride
each breath straining
to grasp the thinner air.
My soul at one with rock and sand
carried my body the final way.
Muscles straining through the pain,
at last just steps around the bend
the summit and a sight.

Lying in the waking light
a vista so beautiful
all breath escaped when stunned
by nature's feral show,
for far out beyond my limited scope
spread a royal multi-hued banquet.
An experience beyond belief
as though God had created
a glorious feast just for me.

He did....
for heart, body and soul overflowed.
So downward I flew,
at times playful, brimming with joy
knowing I carried
a treasure secure in my heart.

How many times
as my hair has turned
from brown to gray
have I with savoring gait
run through that canyon
to that mystical height
to set heart, body and soul right.

Sabino Canyon Run
Tucson Az.
Sunrise 1979
JF

Wind Beneath Our Wings

2009-12-01T08:17:00.000-08:00

Hi all

Here I sit, it's 4:45am, the room is dark except for the vigilant nightlights and the hum of the air exchanger. I'm sitting upright on a cot that the considerate nursing staff set up for me. My wife is sleeping with only her head exposed but I can follow the tubes from under the sheets to the IV stand and all the other flickering life sustaining and monitoring machines. The red LED numbers and messages calm or increase our concern.

A couple of posts ago I painted a scene, true to life, of our family thanksgiving. I was eager to share our (thanks to each and every one of you)health, happiness and the fruits of 12 step life. Life goes on. Things, people and everything changes, no exceptions, that's Life. Change is inescapable and inevitable.

My wife had surgery yesterday morning, CT's and all indicated possibly cancer. I'm happy, relieved, grateful, thankful (un-express-able) to announce all is well, no cancer, she should be back playing tennis in about five weeks. Knowing her, she'll be back before then.

Change is do-able now as you all help us to get our (me especially) exaggerated egos out of the way. That you support and get us safely through our fears, out arrogance and our need to control. iThis support and sharing over the last several hours through the phone calls, cards, prayers been so essential and have humbled us the most.

I've said all that to share this. Early this am I went down to the hospital cafeteria to have breakfast. I sat with a man I recognised from the surgical waiting room the day before. He like me had stayed round the clock at our wives bedside. He looked beat with his head bowed as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

After sharing the status of our wives, He immediately spewed out the details of his wife's surgery and most importantly his anguish of not hearing from nor having visits from his church friends, nor his minister. To add to his anxiety he was an out-of-towner from a small tight knit community.

As we talked I said a silent prayer of thanks to my HP for how different the last 24 had been for us: for the gift over the years of so many friends and that we are not ever alone. You truly are "the wind beneath our wings".

Willingness To Take Action

2009-12-01T05:19:00.000-08:00

I read the prayer for the day (24HAD book) a few days ago. "I pray that I may have eyes to see..." After my meditation it was a fitting prayer. I had meditated on a reading from the book, Shadow Dance. The passage urged us to " face our fears and to acknowledge and expose the shadow,(shortcomings and defects) within ourselves.

I'm happy that this insight is only parceled out to me as my HP deems me ready. I could not handle in one big gulp the full truth. Thankful that it is a process, granted to me one day at a time, throughout a life time. Sometimes it comes in big doses and at others in tiny spoonfuls.

In order to bring about this "face off" I have to reach in to the Serenity Prayer and pray for "...the courage to change the things I can." This courage,(faith in my Higher Power), to look into soul and receive in-sight. Insight into my true self, the person God intended,(created) me to be.
I need to put the words into action. Get off the bench and into the practice.

It's reassuring that I don't have to depend simply on my own weakness. That my HP is my strength is available, all I have to do is reach out and claim it. Bottom line my part entails reaching out to my HP and then to follow up with my friend Alan's tag to the Serenity Prayer; "and the willingness to take action."

JF

Thankfulness

2009-11-28T06:13:00.000-08:00

Ah, that's what I love about this new way of life that y'all are helping me live. Y'all have help me to swing through the high wire gamut of emotions with the help of a spiritual safety net. Since that grace-filled day in '61 I've been lifted to life's mountain top and then dropped into hellish bottomless moments; neither has killed me. I've come to believe through experience what I was told early on. "What doesn't kill me will only make me stronger."

My life now is a life in full color. The necessary splats of dark and the light mixed together by the master- mixer to produce, in His good time, a harmonious pattern. Neither labeled good nor bad. Both have been essential to form a dynamic tension. A tension necessary for my growth. I have to admit it's better than a "two-by-four" up the side of the head.

Sometimes in the tension's pain I've been heard to lash out and snarl "enough already, back off, I don't want to grow anymore." Its at times like this that I hear your "nagging but loving" voices chime in with, "Hey Jimbo, serenity and peace is not the absent of conflict but the ability to cope with it." In other words, live with it and learn from it.

I write this as we come off turkey day. As the our children and grand children, now parents gathered the conversation ebbed and flowed on family, health, new adventures started, old completed and the new antics of the under nine great grand children.

The subjects ranged from tearful laughter to tearful grief. It was wonderful as we all felt that peace and happiness that surpasses all understanding. Over the years we have been akin to a family that has suffered shipwreck and the pain of the survival process together.

Our gifts today are that we are all healthy, together and can share equally in the gift of sobriety, not to mention the love and playfulness of our children and our grandchildren.

JF

Promises Do Come True

2009-11-23T08:06:00.000-08:00

After yesterday's post this post goes to the lighter end of my emotions and feelings.

A week ago I spent the day at the Aquarium with great grandmother (wife,ageless), granddaughter (mommy, 30's), great granddaughter (GGD,5), and great grandson (9).

One of the top moments(days) of my life started at the Otter exhibit. Petite blond haired, blue eyed GGD grabbed my hand. With me in tow she pulled me into her magical world..hers and the otters. We dove, flipped onto our backs, brushed noses,zoomed from one end to the other of the otter world like daredevils foolishly skimming boulders and thick vegetation.

The magic continued as we were carried through the penguins frigid setting into the tropical air of the butterfly garden. I challenge you to find anything more innocent and beautiful than a five year old blond blue eyed bundle of awe whispering to an attentive butterfly perched on her index finger.

Then out into the street to a horse and carriage ride. Passing strangers tossing smiles to the waving giggling little girl.

All of this capped off by a satisfied double-dip strawberry ice cream smeared face.

If you don't believe me ask a certain giggling little girl if Sobriety isn't the greatest.
God is great.

JF

The Rest Of The Story

2009-11-21T05:40:00.000-08:00

Yesterday started out with a nicely defined schedule. Slept later than intended. wiped out from tennis, hot tub and little sleep the night before. By nine my laid back schedule would be tossed.

After "quiet time" and coffee I went to our local paper's website. Only do this about 3 to 4 times a year. Clicked the obit tag by mistake. Scanned the names. As I scrolled a familiar name peeked over the bottom of the page. I pulled up the entire obit. Couldn't believe it, hadn't seen the young man for over ten years. Had to rush get to the funeral home in time.

His father was a friend of mine. His son 47 y/o died in Texas. Alone. Parents, children and the rest of the family lives here in Tennessee. The obit was short, compact, it listed: next of kin; military service; Union membership; along with age and local schools attended. It added favorite activities and sports to round out his character.

When I mentioned "familiar" above I was referring not only to the name but to how similar the obits for my son and for for both (yes two) sons of another friend who was sitting next to me at the service and at the cemetery.

I think you know where I'm going with this. All the obits failed to mention the "rest of the story." The history of alcoholism in the family, the jails, accidents, broken relationships and overall destruction in their shortened lives.

My pew-sharing friend's boys were murdered on the same night in the same apartment a few years ago. One was in college and the other a father with a young daughter. The police were unable to establish a motive. They were in their twenties.

The young man today had been wounded while a marine in Beirut. He had broken his back in a fall in Texas a few years ago. He fell while entering a building through a third story window. From his wheelchair he called a few days ago. He was incoherent and had been drinking. Later the same morning the family received the call that he had died.

My son was shot and paralyzed in 1984. He lived through a constant hell of hospitals, morphine and brief periods of sobriety until his death in 2005. He died alone in a Tampa emergency room.

Yes all three of us cried and hugged. Me and my pew-friend held hands during the eulogy. We grieved not only because our sons had experienced the violence of alcoholism or as fathers: we grieved the deeper grief; that for a another alcoholic.

My wife had a dream a week after our son's funeral. Mike was running in the surf laughing, waving his hands and shouting "Look mom I'm free!I'm free!"

I like to think of this ending as truly "the rest of the story".

JF

Just For Today

2009-11-19T18:32:00.000-08:00

Daily Leaven

He's at it again
that wise ole' baker
kneading the dough
wheat along with chaff
firing my daily loafs.
Some light, some dark
some marbled through and through.

While I sleep, in my pantry
He'll stack my daily ration
so when I awake I'll find my
four and twenty rounds,
no more no less, He's exact.
Some half, some fully baked,
some sweet, some vile.
Some a mix of
both smile and frown.

Would be a shame if
these rounds of the day
were miserly hoarded,
not shared by me,
in tight-lipped
fear of future pains
or memories of a wasteful past.

In gratefulness to
my wise ole' Baker,
I will not gorge, starve,
waste of hoard.
I'll sate my appetite
while I enjoy
the bounty of my daily
four and twenty rounds.
JF

The Voices --Benign and malign

2009-11-17T15:51:00.000-08:00

As Bill W. wrote "...we have two authorities which are far more effective, One is benign, the other is malign."
At the noon meeting today we discussed the two within us. They manifest themselves within as the addictive self and the recovering self. The other is ego driven, wanting to keep us in our addiction. To not only remain sick but to kill us in the end. The benign One wants us in recovery, wants us to heal. To become healthy and to live.
In the early days of my recovery I was almost driven out of my mind from the constant jabbing in my head for my soul. The benign and the malign seemed to be poles apart, all black and white, all or nothing. Had a real problem making out which one was which. I thought "Man, Jim, you are crazy. Don't let anyone know that you're having all these conversations. They'll lace you into a straight jacket and take you across the river to the funny farm."
When I could no longer stand it I reached out to my sponsor. He explained "Jim you've came in with a drinking problem which you no longer have; you now have a living problem. The confusion and the hassle between your ears comes from not knowing how to live life without a drink in your hand."
"Your in-head arguments are between the drinking guy and the sober guy. The old drinker, when confronted with a life situation will automatically want to run, kill himself, flip out or drink. The new sober-self will stand there dumbfounded at first, then run around in circles trying to find an alternative solution to the situation.
"Since you're a novice at sober thinking I suggest you keep it simple. Accept that your first reaction is probable wrong (old alcoholic thinking); stop;call on your Higher Power and simply do the opposite (to the initial reaction). Just doing it this way your batting average for doing the right thing is bound to improve."
"As you add days to your sobriety the next level of coping will be to accept the voices, the arguments and their contradictory rantings as too powerful for you to control; call on your Higher Power; invoke the Serenity Prayer and if the situation demands, call your sponsor for his opinion."
Over the years the voices have become more sophisticated and shrewd and less annoying and obvious. However they are still lurking in the deep end of my mind pool waiting for me to become complacent. I have to remember that the addict in me wants to kill me. Thank God the same simple tools that were given to me in the first days of sobriety are as powerful and effective on each given day as they were then.

JF

Relapse

2009-11-16T06:49:00.000-08:00

Bunch of things swirling around in my head. But like most days I don't know where to start. Oh well that's probably the problem. I should sit back, get out of my head and into my heart.
I love writing especially since I had to start from scratch a few years back; didn't know an adverb from an asterisk. Well not quite that bad. Thank God I only had to to dictate or write notes to an "executive assistant" for most of my letter writing life. To my credit I knew my limitations, I always saw to it that they were very well paid.
Since those first bubbling days I have won a award for my writing and have been published, all of which have fanned my ego and kept me returning to the book I am in the process of writing.
Almost from the first days of my epiphany in the early sixties I have been concerned by relapse and especially the folks who relapse repeatedly. In so many cases they don't ever get into sustained recovery. Why? The most popular and common answer is " they don't want it bad enough." Hearing this only drives them deeper into their shame and conviction that they are really broken and will never get it. Yes wanting it is a key factor, but not the only factor. If "they" don't want it bad enough then why in the hell do some keep knocking themselves out trying to get it.
In the first years of my sobriety two of my best relapsing buddies put shotguns into their mouth (Paul) or stomach(Don) and pulled the triggers. Paul died, Don ended up in the hospital one floor down from me. I was in for a dental operation. I visited him only for a few minutes. His stomach was so shattered and blasted open that they had to repair and do reconstruction bits at a time; it took weeks.
It was during this visit that I first got "the tap" on my shoulder to to do what I could for the relapser. With a few exceptions I have always sponsored the relapser. In the last nineteen years after retiring from my day job I got certified to professionally counsel the relapser. I found out that in addition to relating as another addict I could identify and address their core issues. Core emotional and mental issues planted in deep seated shame.
So why do I want to improve my writing? I believe with my years of experience both personally and professionally I can carry a message of hope, God willing, whether to one person or to many folks who relapse.
I am writing, a memoir , it's a compilation of stories I share about my first five years of sobriety. Most important the tome lies open the constant battle of my addictive self and my recovering self "between my ears." Yes five years as it takes time, for some longer, some shorter; its a process that can't be rushed. They were the "foundation years" for my new residence in sobriety.

JF

God's Will

2009-11-15T06:05:00.000-08:00

As usual I picked up my 24 Hr a Day and began my quiet time. I've had my 24hr book since the first year of sobriety. Over the years I have made notes of the events of that date, sometimes adding attitude feelings etc. It's like a family bible with births, deaths, firings, promotions graduations.
On today's date the margins were cluttered with such happenings. Over the range of events and years I entertained feelings and attitudes that ranged from loneliness, depression, anger, fear to joy, gratitude and immense love. All recorded.
The difference in feelings and attitudes were directly dependent on me. When I pout and react like a spoiled brat my ego has been bruised. I want the answer and I want it now, I want to control the situation and the outcome. I god.
However in those times that I experienced love, joy, gratitude, and peace of mind I had let go of the situation, event, person whatever and let God. I didn't need the answer, I did not have to understand the reasons nor see the outcome; just make (and continue to daily make)"...the decision to turn my will over...." like in the following poem.

The Weaver
My life
is but a weaving
between my Lord
and me.
I cannot choose
the colors
he worketh
steadily.
Oft times
he weaveth sorrow
and I
in foolish pride
forget he sees
the upper
and I the underside.
Not until
the loom is silent
and the suttles
cease to fly
shall God
unroll the canvas
and explain
the reason why.
The dark threads
are as needful
in the weaver's
skillful hand
as the threads
of gold and silver
in the pattern
he has planned.
Author Unknown
JF

Turning Points

2009-11-14T06:06:00.000-08:00

Patience and persistence. I'm back after being away for a couple of weeks. Lot of stuff in my life changed. Couldn't muster the time to post. As in the past it was a time to back off. Get back to the simple things. Take an inventory. Share with others. Pray and meditate. Then take action. It's time to return to writing and sharing.
As I was looking for a kick-start I thumbed through my "book" file and ran across this little piece I wrote and discarded a number of months ago. It's a little something on my last day of drinking and the first days without. Somehow it seemed appropriate although nowhere as desperate at this time as a starting point.

The Waterfall
The last frightful months of my drinking sped by with all the unchecked craziness of a rampaging torrent. Carried along under the influence of my alcoholic monster everything in my havoc-ridding path had been mindlessly crushed and discarded with all the other debris of my life. Steeped in denial I had been unaware of the fiercely stoked pace by which I was racing toward my inevitable fall.
Having fought the current I was exhausted an unable to break its selfish unbridled fury. It overflowed all the banks and dikes of my life. In desperation I had tried to divert its destructive course, but had to give up. Resentfully I conceded I was powerless and no longer able to resist its overpowering hold on me . As I reviewed the tattered remnants of my life I was forced to accept the insanity of my efforts.
I was boxed in; time and options seemed nonexistent. There was no way to escape the inevitable. The course and the outcome were out of my hands. Looking ahead scared the hell out of me. If the shear terror of being swept over the fall didn't kill me, then either the sudden impact or the whirlpool below would do the job.
I surrendered! I admitted I was addicted to my polluted and turbulent course. I had tried again and again, always promising, "This time will be different." It never was. I always failed miserably. I conceded I didn't have the power to harness of change its fury. In the past I was constantly on the verge of ending up like a drawing rat. On my runaway voyage I was occasionally dumped onto the shore, safe and sound: only to insanely jump back in foolishly thinking I could master it.
This time was different; I admitted I was whipped. I let go and accepted the consequences of the baptismal waterfall. My only chance of being saved now was to hook up to something bigger than myself and pray that it would guide me away from the rocks and through the swirling water below.
As I crested the fall, reality hit my cerebral hold-button freezing my life in a single collage of shameful scenes. Crushed by the ugliness of the past and stunned with fear for the future I became aware there was no turning back. I prayed the moment would never click away. I didn't want to go forward nor did I want to go back. Only whining thoughts escaped my momentary lapse.
Why me? God why me?
Why did it have to come to this?
Do I really have to go through this?
There's got to be another way.

Alright, alright. You've stripped me.
I'm nothing.
Nobody wants me.
I don't want me.

They say You'll take me.
So take me.
I surrender.

I awoke downstream alive, disoriented yet intact except for the damages incurred while immersed in the current of my drinking. Scared, my only thought was.

What the hell do I do now?