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I caught a really interesting Daily Reflections reading the other day. Here it is:
OVERCOMING LONELINESS
November 17
Almost without exception, alcoholics are tortured by loneliness. Even before our drinking got bad and people began to cut us off, nearly all of us suffered the feeling that we didn't quite belong.
AS BILL SEES IT, p. 90
The agonies and the void that I often felt inside occur less and less frequently in my life today. I have learned to cope with solitude. It is only when I am alone and calm that I am able to communicate with God, for He cannot reach me when I am in turmoil. It is good to maintain contact with God at all times, but it is absolutely essential that, when everything seems to go wrong, I maintain that contact through prayer and meditation.
Again, that is the Nov. 17 reading. I found about 10 different parts of that reading that spoke to me but I am going to focus on one line: It is only when I am alone and calm that I am able to communicate with God, for He cannot reach me when I am in turmoil.
The second part of the sentence really grabbed my attention—the idea that when I am in turmoil, I cannot connect with my Higher Power.
Throw out the God stuff in that sentence for a second. As I have mentioned many times on this newsletter, I only have ever had a vague understanding of what my Higher Power is. I don’t have a church. I don’t have a God with a painting on the wall anywhere. And my God doesn’t have a religious text that I read every day.
It’s all much squishier and hard to explain. But a lot of it boils down to a few simple concepts. One is that I believe there are lots of things bigger than me—the sun, the universe, gravity, the ocean, and on and on. So I am not a higher power, and as long as I remember that I am okay.
The other big thing is that I haven’t closed the door on anything. I have met people who have had bad experiences with religion and really bristle at the God stuff. I get it. I feel that way sometimes. I just always try to make sure I am open for anything in the spiritual zone.
So my higher power is a lot about spiritual principles and paying attention to what the universe is telling me—I often find what I need when I listen for my higher power to speak to me through other sober people. It’s remarkable how much calling three sober men with strong principles and a strong program can feel like God spoke to me.
Back to that second half of the sentence I highlighted: “For he cannot reach me when I am in turmoil.” That word really struck me—turmoil. I no longer drink and do drugs, but I certainly can get addicted to stuff. That includes food and caffeine, but it also includes grudges, gossip and anger. It sounds weird to say I can get addicted to anger, but it’s true. Anger can be exciting. It can give you a sense of a purpose. On a boring day, sometimes a good white-hot boiling beef with someone can be riveting.
When I think about the word turmoil in that sentence, it really makes sense to me that if I am in turmoil—even if it’s just a snippy email or text message while you’re at the grocery store—I cannot possibly process things the way I want. I can’t be quiet and listen for the words I need to use or the email that I need to type. It’s all me. Go. Go. Go.
That’s when I want to argue and defend and do all sorts of turmoil behaviors, and my brain is good at cranking out lots of stuff to keep the turmoil tornado going.
It’s interesting that this reading’s title was “Overcoming Loneliness,” because the answer to turmoil for me isn’t as simple as just sitting in a quiet room. That certainly helps most of the time. But I find myself occasionally taking deep breaths and trying to clear my mind… but I end up just sitting by myself and whipping myself into a frenzy.
So that’s why the best answer to quietly defeating turmoil is to get to a meeting. I end up getting my turmoil valve shut down for an hour, which clears out space for the better, healthier stuff to come back into my brain. I was a little bit grumpy and argumentative and frustrated over the weekend and I got to a meeting. The meeting went around in a circle and I was the first person who got called on. I had 50 things that I wanted to say, but I felt like the most valuable action might be for me to pass and just listen.
I did it, and the meeting went very well and helped enormously.
To be totally honest, though, we got done a little early and the chairperson asked if anybody who passed would want to share. Did I then share those 50 things I wanted to say? Yes, I very much did.
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:
A newcomer climbed up to the top of a mountain with the idea that if he could get close enough to the heavens, he could talk with his Higher Power. Scanning the sky, he called out, "God, what does a million years mean to you?"
To his surprise, a booming voice answered, "A minute."
The astonished newcomer bravely continued, "What does a million dollars mean to you?"
God answered, "A penny."
Now confident, the new AA asked, "May I have a penny?"
After a short pause, God replied, "In a minute."
(Credit: AA Grapevine, July 2005, from Chuck B.)
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